I write like I read

I just finished a delightful read on Substack. I’m consistently in awe at the volumes of good writing that’s just waiting to be read out there. It will take no less than a miracle to find these pieces.

For as many templatized, SEO-optimized, value-because-it-monetized pieces out there – I think there might just be as many raw and diverse reads waiting for us. I’m holding out for a wishful sequence, the right scroll and click down yellow-brick feeds to connect us. I am hopeful, nonetheless.

To me, writing is hard. Writers 1) think lots of thoughts 2) select a choice of words to share those thoughts 3) optional: try to make it pretty.

Doing any one of these things is a difficult practice but combining them all into one action can sometimes feel impossible (hey, writer’s block). My struggle with writing recently added another step: 4) fret over imaginary readers/audience.

That’s right, it’s a whole bunch of I think -> they [may] think -> I think.

Through practice though, I’ve started to experience writing more like I experience reading. In the quiet activity of these pursuits - they are limitless, exploratory in purpose, curfew-less. See? Another made up word. Blocking out the noise of imaginary or real audiences alike, I realized the benefit was almost always intrinsic, realized by the practitioner alone.

You can’t really know what a person’s read or all that they’ve written. They can tweet about it, share lists on Goodreads but at best it’s a general projection. Much of the benefit of reading is captured solely by you, the person choosing what to read, when and for what reason. Writing has become like this to me. I am likely the only one to benefit from this senseless verbiage, but I think it’s worth it.