A month ago I quit my job. A week ago I started trying to figure out exactly how much freelance content marketing work I need to complete to replace the very nice income that I nonchalantly abandoned.
The answer, it turns out, is rather a lot.
Being me, I made schedules and plans and calculations, only to realize that I am missing a vital variable: I have no idea how much I can actually write.
There has never been a situation when I was given such free reign to put words to page (or screen … or whatever).
No, there’s no need to stop for a meeting or because a coworker needs you to edit their email or because your cube mate wants to chat.
Stop when you have to/want to/need to.
Um…when is that, exactly?
I’m looking for the ceiling, and I don’t know if I’ve ever even glimpsed it before. Last year, when I launched a brand new content hub, I wrote about five pieces per week for three months without burning out.
When I was working in an office, that was my ceiling. Actually, that was probably well beyond the ceiling once I was managing people and projects and process.
But now I’m just managing myself (which, to be fair, can be rather a lot on some days), and the ceiling has receded into the distance.
It’s 9:34am on a Tuesday right now. I’m two pieces in for the week, and I didn’t write all yesterday afternoon due to meetings and appointments. The third piece is in draft on my other monitor. And I’m writing a blog post for the hell of it.
This week’s goal is 7.
7 unique articles, of at least 1,000 words. That’s over 7,000 words. For those who aren’t math-in-your-head types, that’s 364,000 words in a year. It’s basically an article a day.
I’m gonna hit it no problem.
But here’s the rub: what happens when I hit the ceiling? Is it like in the Charlie and the Chocolate factory movie — does it have a big fan that’s going to cut me into hundreds of little pieces?
If I find the ceiling, is that it?
Are there only so many words in head? What happens if they run out?
One way to find out, I suppose.
Onward to the ceiling.