While winding through the Italian countryside, with the blue sky and the white Alps facing us through the windshield, I told M, I’m going to write a book. Then, two days later back in New York, as I tried to process my cousin's tragic death, I remembered how he was the first person in my family to tell me that I should be a writer. I told my sister, and my other cousin, that I want to write a book, or a thousand words a day at least until I get to something book length.

That was over two weeks ago, and I’ve netted about three hundred words since then. This morning, I woke up feeling pretty foolish. Then I imagined myself, a hundred thousand words in, and looking at the mile of writing behind me with dread and not joy. I know the process will be hard, so I am demanding to know up front that it’s going to be good.

ummm, that's not going to work!

If you don’t trust, it won’t matter how much punishment you’re threatened with, or how bad you feel about it. Once I asked a journalism professor about which of his students did well in school. He said, the ones who work. One student of his told him once, “I need my ass kicked to get work done.” By the end of the semester, the student hadn’t produced any good work. He just got his ass kicked.

So in the end, the only engine that leads to discipline comes from inside the heart. For that, the heart has to be large, and strong, and full of good things. These good things, like joy, or beauty, or the love of others, fill us up so that we can be supple and fresh even while facing a little worldly deprivation. Then we can see discipline for what it is, which is simply love of our best selves.

anywayyyyyz, back to one thousand words.