Practice practicality.

So let's get practical.
It's Sunday morning. I don't feel like writing right now. What do I do with this feeling?
When I didn't feel like running in the morning, I'd recognize this feeling as related to how starting to run felt and knew it would change after a mile. I knew that if I just made it through the first mile, it would be OK. This isn't true about writing. Yes, I'm writing now and it's sort of OK, but at any moment, I could hit a wall (as we runners say). It's true that starting, sometimes, is enough but not always. The metaphor breaks down because with running, starting almost always was enough.
Let's try another metaphor: meditation. The way to think about it is that you just sit and follow the instructions for the given time period and you get what you get. Translated into writing would be: You just write stuff for some fixed parameter--number of words, or period of time and not worry about content so much. The "morning pages" version requires three pages of continual, hand written output. But in the end, the pages are to be tossed. Not so with a blog post.
Blog posts are to be exhibited for all to see (and if you are a part of that 'all,' thank you for reading.) And they potentially go through an editing process. And the writing isn't continual because content is considered. There's some attempt at coherence.
I seem to remember that there are writers who "write in the morning" and sometimes produce raw material and at other times produce something they eventually discard. At the moment, I can't remember who any of these writers are, except that they are well known (or were) and thus were asked for their "process."
The search for metaphors is, in this post, an attempt to answer the question, "What do I do when I don't want to be writing?" The first metaphor, running, answers with, "You will be rewarded after the first mile." The second metaphor, meditation, answers with "There is no goal, so you can't fail." This is just one part of it. There is also the belief that there is a reward to having a "meditation practice." There is some kind of gain that is not immediately visible. But there is also the expectation that it will, eventually become visible. When that "eventually" will arrive remains unspoken. Expecting a reward in an unspecified future gives the meditator hope. We hear of other meditators reporting the benefits they have experienced to bolster this hope. Some can actually demonstrate gains which they attribute to their meditation practice (though there's no proof that the gains were caused by the practice and the cause and effect relationship could even be the reverse.) In addition, the doer is told to expect it to be difficult and thus not to fall victim to despair. The hope serves as the immediate motivation when you want to stop, like the "make it through the first mile" is the hope for the runner--but that is one which people actually get to experience regularly.
The third metaphor, morning pages, is a lot like the second. You accept on faith and the reports and attributed successes of others that it's good for you.
These are skeptical times. You could even call them paranoid times, though paranoia doesn't mean that "they" aren't also actually out to get you. Promotion and self-promotion are everywhere. People give advice because they enjoy the role of advice giver and so are rewarded for claiming their point of view. Others are consciously out to rip you off (and no doubt some are unconsciously out to do so.)
I know of no one else doing this post-a-day-ish thing. I suspect there are others out there who have done so and I could possibly dig them up with a little googling. I also suspect that some of their blogs would read embarrassingly awful. They may or may not agree with my assessment of the quality of their output. They may not care what I think. Some writers and performers have said they never read reviews of their work.
The appeal of Florence Foster Jenkins' story is that we know she is bad and yet we are rooting for her, somehow. She is not without narcissism but we don't feel threatened by it. We laugh at her, but we don't turn on her. She spends her life in a fantasy world, but perhaps we all do and thus empathize with her without actually having to confront our own delusions.