When the idea for the Literary Happiness Project came to me, it was filled with so much energy that my mind was spinning. That’s how all ideas should come: swiftly and with some life to them. I’ve heard the advice over and over again, if it’s not a hell yes, it’s a no. And this idea was a h-e-double-hockey-sticks yes.
But all that excitement and energy was just the beginning. I quickly realized I needed a framework, so I brainstormed all the ideas I had about happiness, literature, and what might fit into the writing and reading project I envisioned. I narrowed them down to twelve (one for each month), then realized it might do me good to give myself some guidelines, especially as the year wears on and my enthusiasm wanes.
The thing is, I’ve done these long-term projects before. I read fifty-two books in fifty-two weeks. I took 365(ish) photos in a year—one year in digital, one year in film. I wrote a hundred Instagram posts for the 100 Days Project.
I know what happens when the initial excitement wears off and you find yourself in the messy middle with nothing to hold onto. I know it happens in any project, no matter how long.
But a year is a long time.
One way I hope to evade the lows of this project is through the monthly themes and monthly goals. A new theme each month gives me twelve fresh starts. New goals give me something new to focus on. And, even though a month is long enough to end up slogging along, my intention is to not get too bogged down. If one month something isn’t working, I can let it go the next month. Easy peasy.
Still, I came up with some guidelines, not because I need more mantras swimming around in my head but because I know I’ll need them to keep me on track.
Make others happy. Share and be generous. This is a no brainer. This project is focused on happiness—how to create a happy writing and reading life, and how to feel happier in general. So, of course, I want to focus on sharing that happiness with others.
Act now and don’t delay. Last year, my biggest struggle was in action. As in, I was not in action. I’ve done some reading about non-linear time management, and the biggest takeaway is to act now. Do the thing you’re thinking about now. Don’t delay and procrastinate. Worrying about the future is robbing your of this current moment.
Enjoy the process. This one is tied deeply to one of my mantras for the year: Enjoy it. But enjoying it, whatever it is, is not quite as specific as enjoying the process. This project is a process. Writing is a process. Digging through the rubble of my life to carve out a book is a process. Better enjoy it.
Be yourself. This one hard and easy. I need to stay in my own lane and be Lindsay. I need to write, read, and create like myself—not compare what I’m doing to others.
Stay open and stay flexible. I’ve made a plan but don’t expect things to go exactly according to it. Knowing that, I can still get very rigid and dig down into the shoulds instead of accepting what is. I want to leave room to change and adapt if things aren’t working (or if something’s working exceptionally well).
Share the good and the bad (no hiding). This is the thing I was most guilty of last year: hiding. We hide because we feel ashamed. We feel ashamed because we think we’re not good enough. We convince ourselves that we’re the only ones going through this. And I’m the worst of the worst. So, I’m being intentional about not hiding, and I’m going to be as honest as I can be throughout this year.
Try something new. Self-explanatory.
There’s a big part of me that hesitates to add another component to this project with these rules, but I think they’ll be essential down the road. If nothing else, I hope they remind me why I’m doing this–not just to write a book or share a bunch on social media, but to change my life.
I want to be happier–to write happier and read happier and carry happiness throughout my days.
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