10,000 Hours

According to Malcolm Gladwell one needs to work at something for 10,000 hours to be great. Guess that means I am on my way to being one of the greatest writers. I have not logged my writing hours but certainly whatever I’ve done in the past is adding to my current skill set.

I had rented a space at a writer’s room, an empty loft where I kept my laptop and wrote. After a hiatus longer than I care to admit to, I returned to the space to discover a for rent sign in the window. After tracking down the owner to reclaim my computer I relocated to a friend’s office in Brooklyn. Once again I do not have a internet access but I have a desk and a companion, a real writer working on paying projects.

The train ride to Brooklyn gives me an opportunity to think about my writing and I feel a sense of obligation. My friend, the one who shared Gladwell’s thesis with me, is expecting me to show up and log my 10,000 hours. And proofread her work. And bring Diet Coke. But now I sense an obligation, an accountability if you will.

Last week I worked on posts that I have yet to transfer to the internet. But I suppose keeping the oil greased, no matter how lightly counts.

Today I did not make it to Brooklyn, but I did to a coffee shop. The habit of writing can be addictive, and I’m starting to catch the


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