My 100-Day Writing Challenge Took 434 Days — Here’s What 50 Articles Taught Me
An interview with myself on writing while navigating grief, marriage, and career change
Fifty articles ago, I wasn’t a writer.
I was a 30-year-old woman who had quit her full-time corporate job. With more confusion than clarity and a terrifying amount of hope.
After months of wrong turns, unfinished courses, careers I tried on that never fully fit… I finally found a strong stepping stone that refused to let me sink. Writing.
So for my 50th article, I thought I’d do something different.
An interview.
Not because I think I’ve “made it.” But because I became someone who had stumbled, paused, restarted, and still kept going. And she deserves it.
Let’s start from the very beginning. Why did you decide to shift career paths?
I always wanted my 30s to be about building my dream life.
Growing up, I couldn’t pursue the Arts. Commerce was my parents’ safer choice for me, and I made peace with it for a long time. But at 29, I put my papers down. No safety net, no clean backup plan. Just this quiet, terrifying belief that I hadn’t yet tried the thing I actually wanted to try. Because…
Life is not meant for surviving. It’s meant for living. There’s a difference.
And I was done surviving.
What scared you the most when you left your steady job?
Honestly, the gap on my resume. I kept imagining future job interviews, trying to explain not one, not two, but three years that I wasn’t on a payroll. There’s no LinkedIn category for “Figuring out years”, right?
What I didn’t know then is that one day, the gap wouldn’t need a defense. It would just become part of the story.
During all that trial and error, the counselling certifications, the digital marketing course, the meeting with your college principal about teaching, did you ever secretly think you were just confused and lost?
Nope.
But I did feel guilty about the financial dependency. I have never been someone who depended on a partner or parents for money. And even with their full, generous support, it made me squirm each day. But I couldn’t go back to the same old path anymore.
And I knew what I liked, so I wasn’t lost. I knew what brought me alive. I just hadn’t found the right pathway to turn it into a career.
Which article felt like a turning point for you?
“My Easy Plan To Lose 10 Kilos Without a Gym or a Strict Diet”
It was the first article to get published in a Medium publication. I still remember how anxious and excited I was after submitting my draft.
I thoroughly read all the submission guidelines, formatted the images and fonts carefully, and followed every rule. So when the editor left a private note with a few corrections, I felt a rush like never before. It genuinely felt like I was publishing a book and my editor was giving me notes. Damn!
I still remember that sense of achievement. That feeling of unlocking a new milestone when the notification said, “Your article is published.”
No looking back after that, ever. Upwards and onwards.
How different was the writer of article one from the writer of article fifty?
Article one was me trying to write. My voice and thoughts kept shaking, and so did my writing.
I remember being unsure about so many things. Worrying about every word, punctuation mark, bolded phrase, or italicized line. I stuffed too many ideas, following the “must add value in every line” logic.
I’d edit once and call it done.
By article fifty, I became the writer. Still a long way to go. But I saw the shift happen. I learned to sit with one idea until I understood its objective and the message it needed to deliver.
I edit obsessively now, a minimum of four rounds, sometimes more.
But the biggest realization is to always have your own voice from the start. It may start shaky, but with practice, it will get stronger and deeper. This is what sets you apart from the rest. The craft and everything else can be learnt. But your voice is your identity.
Was there a mistake you kept making early on that you wish someone had warned you about?
Not editing enough. I was so burnt out from writing, mostly because I had no structure around my time. I’d use every last minute on the draft and then do one rushed proofread before hitting submit. I cringe thinking about it now.
Minimum four to five editing sessions is the set standard. At the very least, three. And they can’t all happen in the same sitting — you need space from your own words to actually see what works and what doesn’t.
Also, having work blocks. I was glued to my screen from ten in the morning to midnight, thinking more hours meant more output. But half that time was bleeding into research spirals. Once I started blocking specific time for research, writing, and editing separately, everything got cleaner. The thinking improved. So did the writing.
You pledged 100 days. It took 434. Let’s talk about that.
We lost my partner’s mother in March.
We bought a new house in May. It needed to be furnished and turned into a home.
We got married in October.
There was no easy way to write around those things, so I didn’t force it. Life didn’t pause for the writing challenge. The writing challenge had to learn to exist alongside life.
Sometimes it was a half-draft, sometimes only two sentences. But I never quit. I also stopped measuring my discipline by whether I showed up fully every single day. As much as I wanted to, it was impossible.
On grief days, a few lines got written. On wedding-planning days, one paragraph was a win. I think that’s what discipline actually is — you may not be able to fully participate every single day, but you show up. Even if you can’t write a single word.
What was it like trying to build a home, a marriage, and a career all at once?
Learnt that time management works when there’s some structure in your routine, when there are very few variable factors involved.
For what I was juggling, the more accurate approach was prioritization in real time.
There were days we’d leave for a house renovation errand at noon, expecting to be home by four, and we’d walk back in at eight. My writing plan was gone. And I had to be okay with that.
What helped was creating categories: home days, wedding-prep days, writing days. On writing days, it was non-negotiable. Everything else waited. On everything-else days, I stopped fighting it.
That’s when the tension between my plans and the universe’s plans became easier to hold with time.
Did you ever envy people with stable careers during all of this?
No envy. Felt competitive sometimes, though. You know where it feels more like inspiration than bitterness.
I’d see someone’s work and think, I want to reach that. But envy implies you want what they have instead of what you’re building. That was never it for me.
Everyone is on their own timing. And I strongly believe comparing is nothing but suffering.
What do people most misunderstand about following their passion?
That it’s supposed to be easier or more fun than a regular job. It isn’t.
Building something around your passion made me realize how deeply demanding it is. It doesn’t let you clock out the way a 9–5 job does. It asks you to push your own limitations.
And most people want success without discomfort. I’m not judging that. I’ve been there too.
If you don’t learn to enjoy challenges, this journey will feel unbearable. On hard days, you’ll quit and slowly let your dreams die. Another reason most people don’t follow their passion is that they have no guidance. No one in their immediate world has done it before.
I didn’t come from a business family. I understood business mostly in theory from my Master’s, but I had barely seen its real-life application up close.
And yet, here I am… trying every day to build a meaningful personal brand from scratch.
Was writing listed on your passion checklist?
No. Interestingly, I discovered it during my digital marketing course.
Content writing reminded me of all the creative writing competitions I used to take part in during college. I’ve always loved stories. Thanks to my grandparents and their adventurous bedtime stories, it all started there. Then one day, it became, “Let’s try writing one.”
And now, I want to tell stories everywhere possible.
What did writing 50 articles actually build in you?
The confidence that I’m not just a storyteller, but a story-writer. There’s a tiny difference.
I’ve always had stories; the problem was the page. I didn’t know how to articulate what was happening in my head with clarity, flow, and structure. Thank you, ADHD.
I could comfortably explain my ideas and theories to the person sitting in front of me. But writing used to limit me. Now, not so much.
Last question. What would you tell yourself from June 2023?
That your voice matters. I know there are a hundred better writers who have already written about the same thing, but I write anyway.
And yes, your first ten articles will be robotic. Your first twenty will have too many ideas crammed into them. Somewhere around your thirtieth, you’ll write sections that finally connect.
And by your fiftieth, you’ll realize it was never just about writing. It was about trusting yourself and your abilities. Learning that consistency can still exist inside an imperfect life.
This is my 50th article, written under the mentorship of Anangsha Alammyan, as part of a 100-day writing challenge that, in my case, took 434 days and taught me everything I needed to know.
If you’re at article one right now, welcome. It gets better. Not easier. Better.
