I write like I read

I just finished a delightful read on Substack. I’m consistently in awe at the volumes of good, really 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 the yellow-brick feed 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, 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? That’s not even a real word! Blocking out the noise of imaginary or real audiences alike, I realized the benefit was always primarily intrinsic. To be realized by the practitioner alone.

You can’t really know all that one has read or all that they have written. They can tweet about it, share reading 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 whatever reason. Writing has become like this to me. I am likely the only one to benefit from this senseless verbiage, but it’s worth it.