In my daily writing, I tend to focus on what’s next. (Since I write daily, I’m focused on what’s immediately in front of me – I’ve got to write something again tomorrow!)
It’s how I live in the rest of my work life, too – pride and very occasional reflection on the past, with most of my attention and energy forward facing. I’m always thinking, “What’s next?” and wondering what the next project will look like.
Generally speaking, I think that’s a healthy attitude to take. I like having great music-making and new ideas in front of me, and I like focusing my energy on creating for the future.
Every so often, though, it’s worth taking a look backwards at what you’ve accomplished. I might listen to an old Rockford Aces CD, or peruse a folder of completed arrangements and compositions, or I might just dwell for a few moments in some old photos from past experiences. As the time grows longer since the start of my career, the achievements of yesterday grow ever-larger, and the work starts to look less like many disconnected projects and more like a cohesive career.
The same experience happens with my writing here. At the start, each day felt like a new exploration, unconnected to yesterday. Over time, it’s gotten clearer and clearer what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, who I’m doing it for, and how to do it consistently well.
If you had told me I’d write a half million words this way, 100-200 at a time, I wouldn’t have believed you. But the work keeps accumulating behind you as you face forward, thinking about what’s next. By my count, the bolded word above is the 500,000th word I’ve published over the last years. It’s a milestone for me, and one I’m happy to turn backwards and celebrate.
And then I’ll turn around and look forward, planning what to write tomorrow, and the next day, and the next half million words.