The Worth of Writing
Iāve never identified with being a creative. I canāt draw. Iām afraid of color (hence the black and white, monospace site). Typography is a bit of a mystery. The āgridā reminds me more of graphs from Algebra 2 than it does of layout and spacing. Perhaps most importantly, people rarely call me creative.
More than Iād like to admit, Iām influenced by the community and opinions floating around me. Some days I like to blame my DNA. Homo sapiens evolved to be tribal and cooperative ā itās their damn fault I find it hard to ignore others. Other days I like to blame Big Tech and society. Something along the lines of āDown with social media! Youāre making us jump like monkeys and compete for likes and re-tweets!ā
On my most honest days, though, I recognize that itās a problem inside me. Itās a problem with the story Iāve been telling myself and my emotions related to the narrative that, āIām not creative or good enough to do something like this. I should just stick to math.ā
In high school, I want to say this narrative was driven by impostor syndrome. I was surrounded by people smarter, more creative, and more proactive. I looked up and thought, āwhy try and play their game.ā Why write when you know 20 people who write more than enough (and in higher quality) for the people you want to reach?
The achievement I saw around me reminded me that Iāve already lost before even trying. I should just use my time somewhere else, somewhere I have a better shot at winning.
Now Iām a university student, the illusion Iāve given myself is that I donāt have enough time. Thereās too much work I have to do that my side project needs to wait. What I write isnāt good enough to provide value to others, and more importantly, it doesnāt pay.
There are adult concerns and adult actions I need to take. Writing āfor funā is a childās game I canāt afford to play right now.
I hope itās clear why these veins of thought are so toxic. What might not be so obvious is why theyāre fictional.
High school Tommy was probably right. There were (and are) writers much more prolific and much more honed in their craft. If he wrote, it probably wouldnāt get read and it probably wouldnāt bring joy to a lot of people.
College Tommy (and Iām quite familiar with him) is also probably right. He has a degree that he wants to get and that requires him to spend time doing work. Food isnāt free either. Even if he can avoid rent by living with his parents doesnāt change the fact that he needs to help pay some bills.
These are unavoidable realities of life. And although Iām talking in the personal and at the individual level, Iām hoping that youāre starting to see narratives in your life that are like mine. Stories that are similar, if not quite the same.
The part that I got wrong in high school, and that Iām getting wrong now, is how Iām evaluating the āworthā of writing and publishing it to show to others. Writing has inherent value in all shapes and forms, many of which are not obvious and rewarded by the communities and systems around us.
Even if my writing isnāt widely-read or well-received doesnāt make that act of writing any less valuable. And just because itās not tangible in dollars or claps on Medium doesnāt make my writing worthless.
Writing helps me think better. Writing helps me feel better. Writing archives my present self so one day I can look back and see how much Iāve grown.
I canāt put a dollar amount to any of this, but I get the feeling that writing is probably worth doing.