After a multi-year hiatus, I resumed blogging. It’s nice: I really enjoy getting my thoughts out, finding the right words, and eventually getting a message from someone saying that what I wrote resonated with them. It’s fun to practice a skill, and it’s engaging figuring out what I should say, and most importantly - what I shouldn’t. It’s a fun process.

Anywho, I’ve been writing weekly - on schedule - over the past 4 months, and it’s been an interesting experience. I committed to writing weekly over a full year, and I think now that I’m a third of the way through - I’d love to have a brief moment of retrospective.

I’ve been publishing every Monday, consistently.

Now that’s just good for building up a loyal audience: predictability and consistency and all that. And me-in-a-different-phase-of-life would’ve seen that as enough of a reason, but I wouldn’t really say I much care for an audience - or more specifically, I don’t want a large audience.

I must say that I love getting emails from folks who wanted to say something in response to what they’ve read - and there are now a few regulars with whom I communicate through occasional email threads (hey, you should reach out with thoughts - any kind of thoughts). I guess I do like my audience, and a regular cadence facilitates building that connection.

It’s also really nice to have some kind of rules to follow. It helps with regular practice, and it doesn’t just rely on a rare bout of inspiration. There’s something that needs writing, regardless of how inspired I feel. Better, if I’m inspired - I’m more likely to be writing at that moment. It’s a reinforcing cycle of practice and inspiration, and I’ve been enjoying that. I definitely wouldn’t write as frequently without a set cadence.

Finally, there’s a question of quality. Weekly writing exercise lowers the quality bar. Look at what you’re reading today - it might not be great, and I won’t lie and pretend that it took me hours upon hours of meticulous writing to get this piece out of the door. Contrary, 20 minutes, in and out, and there’s not even an editing pass for this one. Sorry, dear reader.

But lowering the quality bar helps. It helps me push something out of the door, regardless of what I think of it, and regardless of how much polish it has. Because sometimes I feel like I have a wonderful piece on my hands - and I might be right (hey, I’m really proud of the lessons in tech-heresy in the AI age, you should give it a read). And sometimes I might have a complete dud that I’ve written, and I might be thinking it’s the best thing since sliced bread. Or even the opposite - a seemingly ordinary piece resonating with a wide audience.

You see, I lied when I said I write weekly. I write twice a week - for this blog, and for another one (which I won’t yet share, as I’m still dialing down my voice for the other blog - but if you care enough, you can shoot me an email and I’ll happily send you the name). A few weeks ago what felt like a “throwaway” article (it was a Sunday night, and I needed to get something out Monday), which recounted what seemed like a boring and mundane topic, has resonated with a wide number of readers, and brought that (secret) blog out of complete obscurity.

What I’m trying to say is that if I wasn’t writing at a specific cadence with self-imposed deadlines, I don’t think I would’ve written pieces people like. And yeah, I just claimed that I don’t much care for a large audience - but I do care that some of you will read this, and maybe think about this a few days down the line when writing yourself, or when talking to a friend about obscure blogs you like to follow.

Then there’s also a question of experimenting with different writing styles. Consistent practice just forces you to experiment with different voices - it’ll just get stale after a while. From time to time, I plan out what I write differently, or even write something like this - which is rambly, and not at all planned out, but there’s whimsy to it, and you know I care about this enough to write this very long sentence instead of booting up Warhammer 40,000: The Rogue Trader, which I’ve been trying to finish for almost half a year in 30 minute increments since my daughter was born.

“There’s something special about every word written by a human because they chose to do this thing instead of anything else. Something moved them, irked them, inspired them, possessed them, and then electricity shot everywhere in their brain and then—crucially—they laid fingers on keys and put that electricity inside the computer. Writing is a costly signal of caring about something.” - 28 slightly rude notes on writing by Adam Mastroianni

Not all is rosy though. There’s the pressure to write, and if I don’t get the two pieces ready by Sunday afternoon, I’m starting to feel stressed. Especially so since my kiddo’s getting just a little bit older, enough to take up lots of attention, and enough for maybe an hour of uninterrupted me-time a day.

Rain or shine, exhausted or not, here I am. But I think it does make what I write feel more impactful to me - but that’s maybe because I’ve been thinking about Adam’s quote about caring, and my limited time makes me realize how much I care. Enough to write, clearly.

In this case, I guess I deeply care that someone knows what it’s like to write something somewhat creative every week. Well, it’s great on Mondays when I hit “publish”, and it gets worse as the week goes on. Here, you didn’t have to read the whole thing - maybe I should’ve put that in TL;DR. Oh, I’m sure it’s fine.

Jokes aside, a regular cadence has been the best way to illustrate to myself how much I care, and how important writing is to me. To think about what I want out of writing, and why do I even write. I care about getting my thoughts out on paper, I care about the craft, and I care about subtle art of connecting with a reader through shared context through an ultimately limited medium.