I had a different post scheduled for today. I wanted to have a conversation about the importance of taking care of oneself, but what I wrote made me nauseous. I felt ill at ease when I revised and edited it; I felt ill at ease when I tentatively scheduled the post; I felt ill at ease when I scheduled it; and I felt ill at ease on Monday and Tuesday. Thus, I scrapped the post Tuesday evening. It’s gone to the rubbish bin, and there it shall remain until it becomes something worthy of being published.
Will that happen? I don’t know. I think it’s unlikely. The words have reached their end with that particular piece. They have gotten stuck in some corner of banality and self-centeredness and have yet to find a way out; at least, that’s my perspective. My intent had been to use an example of me not taking care of myself to explain why it’s important to do so, but I just couldn’t get the words to rise to where they needed to be. They remained rooted in the original experience and were unable to transcend it, to transform it into something other than a pity party.
That transformation is important to me, and it’s something that fuels much of the creative and professional work I do. If the words I publish on this blog or write for clients are of no use to others or don’t rise above a self-contained and self-limiting audience, I don’t want to share them. I don’t want to write them. I’d rather quit writing than write for an audience of me, myself, and I.
What about you? When do you decide to scrap a post? Also, how do you remember to take care of yourself?
Image: delete08 (CC BY NC 2.0)
Erin, my scrap heap posts never make it out of the draft file because they take too long to get to the point, and I can’t figure out what to cut. They start out well, but then peter out into an exercise in writing and nothing else.
I like Mark Schaefer’s blog post advice – start with the conclusion, then bear it out in the rest of the post. If I exercised his wisdom, more of my posts might see the light of day because I’d present the point up front instead of taking 2,000 words to get there! It’s hard learning a new writing style.
But nausea? There’s an interesting reaction! I’d call that “gut” instinct! 😉
New England Multimedia I don’t know that I could follow Mark’s advice. I don’t like to have a firm conclusion in mind because it negates possibilities. This may be more true when I write poetry, but it reverberates into my other writing. I like to have a sense of where I intend to go with essays or posts but need to be open to how I’m going to get there – if that makes sense.
I usually experience anxiety for one of two reasons: it’s a post that needs to be published but could result in backlash, or it’s one that hasn’t been anything but self-centered twaddle.
Maybe Richard Hugo would be helpful here. He says to cross things out violently and never with slow consideration. 🙂
Erin F. It definitely makes sense! You write the way I do. I have a sense of where I’m going with a post. Then I start writing, just letting it flow and build, until the conclusion and question at the end. But I’m sure Mark’s advice is geared toward capturing the short attention span of the typical information-overloaded blog post reader who doesn’t want to take the time to read a whole blog post before discovering whether or not what you’ve written is relevant to him. Grab ’em at the start with the conclusion, then make your case.
You can always write your blog post with the conclusion at the end, and then rewrite it, putting the conclusion at the beginning. Preaching to myself, here. I’ve yet to try this!
And oh yes…the anxiety over the expected backlash? That gets me every time. I get minor backlash over stuff that surprises me, and I hate it. I’m reading Mark Schaefer’s “Return on Influence,” and the advice of some of my favorites is helping me a bit in that area. I’ve seen all of them take some huge hits publicly, even being called out in blog posts, yet they keep going strong. That’s what makes them favorites!
New England Multimedia I guess I view the writing more as coming full circle. Perhaps it’s a by-product of my academic days. Make a clear thesis statement, build upon it, and summarize, clarify, or apply in the final paragraph.
I know about shortened attention spans, but I tend not to worry about them too much. If a piece is good, it will keep people’s attention or cause them to come back when they have a bit more time. I know; I’m stubborn on this point.