Writing, as a concept, was invented to convey.
From carvings on cave walls to ancient languages on tablets to ink on parchments and photons coming out of your screen — the primary purpose was record-keeping.
Something would happen. That thing would yield helpful information. And that information would be the thing you record; that’s writing.
I find it hilarious to think of a caveman having a “Wall-Carving Block.”
And the reason a pre-historic human wouldn’t have writer’s block is that they very clearly had something to write about.
To have something to write about, we need to stop writing and do something instead.
Let’s all agree right now that writing about “nothing” sucks; this isn’t Seinfeld.
Doing something is the easiest way to learn that thing, and writing about something you’ve learned is the easiest way to write.
A full-time blogger is a hilarious title if we assume a full-time blogger sits at their desk all day writing.
Whether fiction or non-fiction, great writers draw from the relationships, experiences, and learnings they get from the real world.
When you type at your desk, you’re drawing on a box that has a finite amount of stuff in it. When you eventually take everything out, it’s empty. You then commit a mortal sin and use the same stuff dozens of times.
And that’s why writers on the internet love writing about writing — it’s all they’re doing.
The irony isn’t lost on me, don’t you worry.
I haven’t written a lot recently. I’ve been quite busy doing things instead (I’ll send out an email about that soon).
I can do and write; I can consume and convey, but I can’t just publish content without any input. Otherwise, I’m just regurgitating.
I become a content creator, creating content about how I’m creating content — then you better bet I’m selling content about creating this content on Twitter.
The Ponzi scheme of content is 100-follower creators buying from 1000-follower creators, who buy from 10,000-follower creators, and so on.
