I have always loved to write. When I was about 4-years-old, I first discovered this love. I spent hours typing gibberish on a manual typewriter. It was effortless free expression. What I wrote was unintelligible but profound, and it would change the world. I was sure of it.
Then I grew up. Writing became more mechanical. Cerebral. As an adult, I began to guard my heart. I didn’t want to show ignorance—to appear foolish.
For years, I wrote technical posts on safe topics. I analyzed but did not reveal messy personal details.
Now, I’m moving back towards that typewriter. Banging out some thoughts. Hoping the simple things I have to say, mistakes and all, will help someone.
Writing this way feels effortless by comparison.
Could your art be easier to produce if you didn’t try as hard? Be yourself, not someone else. Do it your way. It’s easier.