Some days I write angry. The benefit is words come fast and easy. The downside is too many words come too easy. I tend to overwrite when venting.
Yesterday’s post was like that. I sat down and it just came out. I re-read it (something – along with proofing and editing – I almost never do) and was a bit embarrassed by how wordy it was. When angry, I can string adjectives together the way my grandfather could string together curses.
Sometimes I think maybe I should be a more mature writer. Maybe I should take the time to write well, and ensure things look right before hitting publish. Then I come back to why I’m writing. It’s for me. That’s it. I write because the habit of daily doing so makes me better than if I don’t.
On occasions when I write for third party publications I take a bit more time. I even proof and edit (well, I usually ask someone else to). But my daily posts are just for me to get done and out the door. Writing is not my vocation (I sometimes ponder what that would be like) so I’m not accountable to anyone for quality. I’m accountable to myself for creating value every day, and cranking out what’s on my mind does just that.
I do love the art of writing. I enjoy all kinds. Stories, marketing copy, curt emails, short blog posts, long-form articles, poems, songs, and Tweets. But the art is different from the act. For me, the act has to come first. The art will suffocate the act if I let it. I’ll be stuck with beautiful ideas and no execution. So I focus daily on the act of writing, and only occasionally on the art.
Maybe in a different phase in life when priorities and goals shift, I’ll focus more on the art. Not today.