It’s hard to stick to a pledge to do something every day. Remember your New Year’s resolution? Maybe you swore to go to the gym, write in your journal, or even just (gulp) floss your teeth every day. Every. Single. Day.
How’s that working out for you?
David Michael Chandler, on the other hand, makes good on his promise to post a doodle and a story accompanying the drawing every day on his Tumblr entitled, appropriately enough, The Daily Doodles.
Chandler is an aspiring screenwriter in Los Angeles who explains his reasons for starting this blog on his About page:
Thinking I was becoming a dullard and weakening my overall creative muscles because all I did was focus on my current script, I decided a good mental exercise would be to do a Daily Doodle with a neato story attached to it every ding dong day. I set a time limit because I couldn’t afford to spend TOO long on these dumb Doodles (and I know myself, and I know I would keep tweaking and refining if I don’t got a time limit), and it’s a good way to just make yourself think and work.
Can’t argue with that.
The Daily Doodles features creative gems, such as this post from 1/25/2013 (it’s exactly the kind of depressing short story I personally adore):
“A Different Life”
The whirring of the ceiling fan blends into a silent soothing hum, as Kyle feels himself get lost in the hypnotic blades circling endlessly above.
The cool gentle air brushes his arms and face, but it doesn’t feel real… as if he’s not meant to be here, right now, in this life. An empty sensation creeps over him, one he has felt in the quiet moments of night, and he senses what could only be his soul hovering above his shell of a body.
Could he have had a different life? One without a job, three kids, and an understanding wife? To think of his life now, it doesn’t feel like his own… like he’s just a passenger on a train following tracks laid down long before he got here. He can’t even quite articulate completely what is tingling in the back of his brain, but it’s there.
He can see himself on an airplane, flying somewhere, anywhere, alone… but that doesn’t quite feel real either. It’s just another “this”.
And maybe that version of him on that airplane feels the same. Nothing changes.
Reality sucks back into his consciousness, as he hears his wife and kids playing in the hallway, their existence reminding him that he forgot to go to the grocery store for eggs and cereal.