The Second Resistance

What happens once the excitement of starting something fades away?

I’ve published 14 newsletters since September.

Built the habit, proved I could do it, turned Signal & Story from idea to reality. The momentum exists. The rhythm is there.

But somewhere around Week 8, I noticed something had changed. The excitement that carried me through the first month was fading. It wasn’t completely gone, but just felt different.

In the War of Art, Stephen Pressfield wrote about “Resistance” — an invisible, toxic force that stops us from starting new projects and living the life we know we deserve.

However, there’s another kind of resistance that nobody talks about. I call it the “Second Resistance”. It shows up after you’ve started. After the novelty wears off. After you’ve proven to yourself, you can “do the thing,” and now it’s all about “just doing it.”

This is what 14 weeks of maintaining this newsletter is actually like, as well as some ideas I’ve wrestled with on the concept of resistance.

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1. For me, the first resistance of starting something new is a lot harder than the resistance of maintaining it. That might be different for most people, but I’ve noticed I don’t struggle with momentum as much as I do with the initial push. And now that Signal & Story exists, continuing is so much easier than launching ever was.

2. I was deathly sick during Christmas week when I published “The Rules You Never Chose.” Could’ve skipped it, and honestly should have. But while doing the dishes on Monday evening, I knew the idea had legs. So I told myself: block out two hours, get everything down, and see what happens.

3. I will admit it took longer than two hours, and by my judgment, wasn’t the best thing I’ve ever written. Regardless, I published and reminded myself that since I’ve rebuilt a platform and connection with my audience, if I have something I want to say, I would do myself an injustice by not saying it.

   That’s been the filter that’s helped me work through many weeks.

4. The first seven newsletters were easy because I had all these ideas I’d been holding onto for months, like starting my YouTube channel after fifteen years of waiting, writing creator stories for Act Two, my startup role, and of course, building Signal & Story itself. The observations were already there. All I had to do was write them down and hit publish.

   Lately, however, it’s been different. Instead of “mining for content ideas”, I’m observing the moments in my day and asking myself: if only one person on the other side of the world were to read this, would they find this helpful or interesting?

   That’s harder work, but it’s teaching me to see patterns I wouldn’t have noticed before.

5. Week 1: I couldn’t wait to hit publish. Late-night writing sessions. Finally, doing the thing I’d avoided for so long.

   Week 14: Same action, different emotions. The candle’s lit, headphones on, a new page on Obsidian staring back at me. The rush now comes from the work and not the excitement of starting something new.

6. I switched my publish day from Sunday to Monday and didn’t hold it against myself. The past version of myself would’ve seen this as a failure to stick to the plan and added it to the list of reasons I should give the entire project up. But now I see it as listening to what actually works. The ritual of writing and publishing matters more than any specific publishing day.

7. Signal & Story is my safe space to let it all out. Once a week I get to consolidate my thinking, distill ideas down to their essence, and get it in front of people who might actually care. That’s a privilege in itself, and the feeling of getting an idea into words is still the best part.

   It’s rewarding because it’s a core part of what I do. Watching my skill build through this project is often what’s kept me going.

8. The Rule of One: write to one person, focus on one emotion, and have one clear idea. When I sit down to write, I’m not thinking about 650 subscribers. I’m only thinking about one person who needs to read this. Who is that person? What do I want them to feel? And what’s the idea that I’m trying to describe?

   Everything else falls into place once that’s answered.

9. I actively churn subscribers every week. In fact, I even wrote a piece about it titled “On Growth”. It’d be easy to hide that number and focus on all the wins. But I did the opposite. I have that number on my profile now, almost like a badge of honor.

   Being honest about your struggle builds a deeper connection with your audience than pretending everything’s perfect. Plus, it’s far less exhausting than performing.

10. I changed my mindset from “how can I make this perfect?” to “how can I make this simple?”

    Perfect is boring. You lose the idea trying to achieve it. Simplicity cuts right through. You don’t have to hide behind complex words and deep research. Simplicity is clarity. It gives ideas breathing space and makes it easy for anyone to connect with.

    What’s the simplest thing I can write? That’s the question I keep front and center at all times.

11. Ideas still hit me at the most random, unexpected hours of the day. By doing the things I normally do on a day-to-day basis, I’m exposed to an abundance of interesting and impactful ideas. I’ve already won just by having the platform to write about them, but if one person reaches out after reading, that makes the victory even more special.

12. Writing doesn’t give you feedback like medicine does. In medicine, the patient either gets better or doesn’t. The cause and effect is often linear, and you know within days if you did your job right. In writing, you could try to “make it” online for years or stay unpublished for decades. Then, suddenly, one piece changes everything, or maybe nothing continues to happen for years. The feedback loop is either broken, delayed, or simply doesn’t exist. Once I stopped waiting for proof Signal & Story works, it helped me immensely to focus on the writing and enjoy the process.

13. Trust me, sometimes I can get lazy and many times wish I didn’t have to go through all the effort to hit publish. That’s maintenance fatigue in full effect, and it’s important to call it out. It’s when you’re not naturally pulled to do the work anymore. When the self-talk becomes more negative: “What’s the point? There’s no proof. Why should I keep going?”

    But at that point, I ask myself: what are you going to do about it? Will you give in or will you actually do what you committed to? That question pulls me forward more than any form of motivation ever could.

14. When maintenance gets hard, I go back to my “why”. Why did I start Signal & Story? It’s because I wanted a platform to express my ideas, build an audience, and document what I’m learning. That deeper purpose hasn’t changed.

    Then I look at the actual actions involved in creating a newsletter: brainstorming ideas, research, writing, editing, visuals, platform work. I ask myself: what actions are draining me? Can I simplify them? Delegate them? Make them easier? Most times, I just need the ritual itself — my computer in front of me, a few notes with rough ideas, and writing straight from the heart. That’s the setup that works.

15. It’s totally fine to quit if your purpose changed. Experimentation holds much more value than we realize. If you’ve tried, taken different approaches and still can’t stick with something you started, that’s okay too. Ship it, see what happens, quit if it’s not working, and learn either way. There’s nothing wrong with changing your plans and going in a different direction.

16. Fourteen weeks in, I still don’t know if Signal & Story will work. I don’t know if I’ll have thousands of subscribers, a paid tier, or make this more than just another newsletter. But I’m showing up every week. Saying what needs to be said and getting better at the craft. And right now, that’s enough.

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These are the raw observations from doing something that started as an escape and is now my creative responsibility. The second resistance doesn’t announce itself the way the initial resistance does. It’s subtle. Almost reasonable. “You’ve done enough. Take a break. Try something new.”

So if you’ve felt like you’ve overcome the biggest hurdle with starting something new but lost the thrill along the way, remind yourself that it’s completely normal. You don’t have to have it all figured out.

Keep it simple, always.

Talk soon,

Pranav

P.S. This entire piece was an experiment to maintain my writing excitement. The idea of second resistance was complex, and writing it like my previous editions wasn’t working. So I tried the list format instead of a linear essay. If this format and concept resonated, I’d love to hear from you.

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