Laying Low

I began 2018 with the desire to “tell myself something true in public every day.” I was pretty solid for a month, but with a new baby in the home, little disruptions can turn into a big deal. While a lot of my friends are dealing with influenza, it only took a common cold to derail my plans. Then throw a few birthdays and holidays into the mix, and it’s “blog? What blog?”

But I haven’t forgotten. In fact, I’ve been eager to get back. Even though it’s a sacrifice to set aside the time, I did find that the discipline improved my thinking. And my writing. (You may quibble with both of these. That’s fine.)

I wanted to share what I’ve observed so far. A lot of this will be obvious, but sometimes we find ourselves in need of just that.

The first thing I noticed is that it’s much more difficult to write when you’re not sure where you’re going. If I have only a vague idea that I want to write on this topic and say such and such a thing, it’s going to be hard to muddle through. You can probably tell which posts were written this way. The most important thing for me is knowing not just what topic but what exactly I mean to say. What’s my thesis? If I know where I’m going, it’s much easier to find myself there without much extra planning.

Second, the more you write, the faster you write. I’ve been trying not to edit as I write, which is a bad habit that has plagued me for years. As a result more errors than usual have found their way into the blog, but I’m actually ok with that. I can always fix those later. For me the better discipline is improving the quality of my communication more generally. (But if I someday find myself naturally typo-free, I won’t mind.)

Third, the more you write, the better you think. Again, this could just be me, but the more I wrote, the more I found myself able to think on my feet in conversation. There are sometimes I’m more awake than others; I’m sure that’s true for everyone. But I had a few experiences where ideas were coming to my mind in conversation faster than I could address them. But instead of stumbling and stuttering, I was able to push them out. It’s a strange experience, but one I would love to continue pursuing.

Fourth, my best writing comes when I’ve been chewing on something all day. Bonus points if I’ve had some great conversations or been exposed to some good communicators.

Fifth, if I don’t have anything on my mind, it’s easy to pick up the Bible and read a few verses. You really don’t have to read long before you find something worth thinking about aloud. I don’t think of the Bible as a safety net for blog content so much as blogging is a great excuse to stay engaged. There’s no excuse; there’s always something worthy to process.

Sixth, multi-part blog posts are a blessing and a curse. I like being able to break things into chunks; it keeps this thing manageable. But there are some times it seems that you could just go on forever. Some subjects can’t be treated very well even in a half dozen posts. What then?

So there you have it. Before I sign off, I want to share one more idea that got me jazzed last week. Listening to the latest Koppelman/Moment interview of Seth Godin was just what I needed to jump back in the saddle. Godin talks about the idea of “wabi-sabi,” which has to do with the beauty of imperfection. Rather than making things “to spec” as industrial and corporate life teach, this principle encourages you to bring your humanity, your incompleteness, your foibles to a project and let those fingerprints remain on your work.

Combine this with a Jon Acuff quote I read the other day, and you have no excuse. Acuff says it’s not laziness that derails our projects; it’s perfectionism. I know this so well. I know I can do better, so I hide what I’ve done. Or I don’t finish or I don’t try to begin with. It’s like a good friend once told me: “you have a problem with letting the perfect get in the way of the good.”

I know these posts won’t always be worth reading. I know if I do manage something decent every now and then, it will likely be followed by something that tanks. But I need to constantly push to let that be ok. It’s tempting to count site traffic as success. But if all I’m doing is “telling myself something true in public every day” then as long as I haven’t strung together a whole post of lies or bad data, I’ve succeeded.

You might say that’s a low bar, and it is. But you have to lower the bar when you’re starting out.