Oh shoot, now I’ve really gone and done it. I’ve signed up, registered and will make have to make myself accountable. 

 Why do I always get gung-ho on an idea only to wake up the next day with that hangover-like feeling of having done something you really wish you hadn’t? Technically I haven’t been hung over for years as alcohol is so drying for the skin, but you get my drift. 

So what have I done that’s so headache inducing and will have me banging my head against the keyboard for the next 30 days? 

The Ultimate Blog Challenge that’s what. Am I mad? Perhaps. Hell, yes I am, and crazy too. The plan is to blog every day for the next 30 days. I’m feeling nauseous already. 

Its stressful enough blogging twice a week – I’ve always aimed for three times but haven’t managed it yet, so why would I try for seven days a week for the next four and half weeks? 

The therapist in my head would say I’m in denial about my own abilities and my dear mentor Jo Parfitt would sigh sadly and point out it’s up to me and I’d so hate to disappoint her. Jo is a woman with too much energy for a mere mortal as is my dear friend over at adventuresinexpatland both of whom are taking the challenge. How can I compare to their energy levels, drive and ability to pluck the perfect word from the air every time they need it? I must be a masochist.  

Certainly I’m a mere mortal with the month ahead full of distractions and life stuff guaranteed to fog the brain and bring on a violent headache. Oh Lord. 

This is a challenge supposed to excite, stimulate and get you writing more productively and faster than you do now. I’m sceptical. If the challenge is for the month of April (I’ve just read the small print and it is) then I’m already three days late, running behind the pack. I have that uncomfortable jittery feeling in my stomach of sitting in front of an exam paper with the dawning, icy realisation I’ve revised for the wrong exam. (It happened once and the recurring nightmares didn’t stop until I was 35). 

Why would any sane person put themselves through this? Ahh, well, sanity may be the issue here. But I’d like to try, make myself accountable and if I do start to write more effectively then what a great trade-off.  

Writing a blog takes me about 1000 words. Don’t know why that should be, (the rules say around 500 but I don’t do rules very well) it just seems the natural amount, twice a week when the wind’s in the right direction and the stars are aligned. So thirty days non stop is – gulp – 30,000 words – half a novel, or a novella. Hells bells. May have to rethink length of blogs. Will definitely have to rethink the length of the blogs. 

I’m checking my calendar in panic. In addition to regular life this month, we have two family birthdays, our wedding anniversary, vacation at Easter, a girls farewell weekend for a dear friend moving to California, (the day before that two farewell lunches and hosting a morning meeting) and a Royal Wedding. 

That’s what’s in the diary now and like everyone else I know it will fill up as the weeks go by. I may need to pencil in mental health days to protect my fragile emotional state. 

Oh, and I forgot an appointment this week with our Dutch and American accountants to find out how much the belastingdienst and IRS will be holding their hands out for. If you’ve read my blog Life’s Certainties; the Dutch and Taxes  you’ll fully appreciate why, for at least three days this week, I’ll by lying in a darkened room.

Breathe. Slowly. Feel your body relax, think beautiful thoughts, imagine yourself swinging in a hammock between two palm trees on a deserted beach, with the gentle gulf-warm water lapping languidly on a white, shimmering, deserted beach. A sighing, wafting breeze dancing in from the Caribbean scented with heat and spices, caressing the palm leaves, making them shiver; rippling softly over your sun drenched skin, warm and sensuous…

 Yeah right. 

Okay dear readers. I’m off to figure out a cunning plan of how the heck I’m going to do this. It will be a journey of self-discovery, finding and defining personal limits and head banging frustration, along, no doubt with several glasses of Albert Hein’s best Pinot Grigot. 

I’m holding myself accountable to you, because without you there would be no point. 

Anyone along for the ride?