Why bother writing

There’s a moment right before a memory fades — about two weeks after the thing happened — where if you don’t write it down, it’s just gone. Not traumatically, not with any drama. It just slides off the edge of the week and becomes one of those things you vaguely remember happening.

This blog is mostly that: an attempt to catch those moments before the slide.

What I actually write about

The things I end up writing about are never the things I plan to write about. I’ll open a blank document to write something considered and serious about, say, the structure of trust in slow-burn anime, and end up writing three paragraphs about the specific sound a train makes in a station at 7 AM when the platform is almost empty.

Which is to say: I write about texture. The specific qualities of specific moments.

The two-week rule

If something is still on my mind after two weeks, it’s probably worth two paragraphs. If it’s still there after a month, it gets a whole post.

Most things don’t make it past two weeks. That’s fine. The filtering is the point.

“The job of writing isn’t to capture the world — it’s to slow down long enough to see that there was something there to capture.”

What this means for you

If you’re reading this: probably nothing. This is not advice. It’s a note to myself, in public, which is maybe the most honest form of blog post.

But if you find yourself vaguely meaning to write something down and not quite doing it — maybe try the two-week rule. If it’s still there, it deserved to be written.