Today was Day 1 of the Joy of Sisyphus. That's my new program for writing this book: lean into the boulder, forget about the top of the hill, and enjoy the shoving. Today I would call a modest success. Very modest: almost no measurable rock movement. But a success: I roughed up my hands, cracked my back, raised my heart rate, and enjoyed the straining. In other words, I wrote some words that weren't very good but I actually enjoyed my time in the company of the book and didn't beat myself up about how hard it all is. And if I don't beat myself up for how hard it is, then it isn't actually that hard, is it? Tomorrow I get to take the day off work, set off cheap fireworks with my son, and think about how hard it wasn't.
But here's something I just realized: I keep not telling you what this book is about. Days ago I promised that that would be my "next post." Obviously trying as hard as I can to stay on the surface of the rock and not think about how big and heavy the damned thing is.