There are lots of reasons to write.
Sometimes, you write because you have an important point you want to get across. Blogging allowed all of us to do this, to publish our perspective on the world in a way which hasn’t been possible before.
Sometimes you write because you’re responding to someone. Maybe you’re outraged by someone’s simply ridiculous views on the world. Perhaps you’re trying to pick holes in someone else’s argument. Maybe, you’re just practicing the fine art of snark. Lord knows, there’s a worldwide shortage of snark. The snark, after all, is an endangered species.
Sometimes, you write because you think it might be a career, something you can do to earn a living. And there’s no doubt that if you can make a living at it, writing is a fun occupation. I’ve been lucky enough, at various times of my life, to be paid to write.
But there’s another reason to write, and I think for most people it’s the most important reason of all. Writing helps you understand yourself. It forces you to focus your thoughts and move them from the massively-parallel way that your mind works into a kind of linear order. The process of writing something down turns it from a fleeting thought into something much more concrete.
When you write for this reason, it doesn’t really matter if anyone else reads. What matters is that you have written something that’s more than a single thought.
Over the past few years, mostly because of the emergence into my life of services like Twitter and Facebook, I’ve been neglecting writing to any length other than that of a single though. I’ve become good at paring back what I write to just 140 characters, sometimes less (sometimes much less).
But 140 characters leaves no room for nuance, for anything except the most crystal clear of statements. There’s no room for argument (in the positive, rationalist sense) or for anything other than a single thought, a single witticism.
And I think that I’ve begun to feel this a little in the way that I think. My thinking, which used to be all about focus, has felt… fuzzy. Frayed around the edges. Jumping around like the proverbial Mexican jumping bean. Oooh look! Another tweet has arrived! Must… write… pithy… epigram…
So, rather than carry on in the same way, I’m going to try and break a habit to make a habit: and the habit that I want to get into, like MG Siegler, is to write 500 words a day. I’ve no idea what it will be about. Mostly, I’d guess, technology and publishing, the two things that I spend most of my waking hours thinking about. Probably stuff which lies at the intersection between the two. But some days it might be politics, or the attention span of cats, or how incredible the weather is.
Who knows? But it will be no less than 500 words. Sometimes a little more. But never less. And this post needs to be finished, now.