Unfortunately, I’ve fallen for the trap in which I think my writing is boring. That I need to be completely informed about a topic while also being incredibly interested and talented in writing about it as possible. I’m realizing that that’s my perfectionism. That my writing has been lacking in recent years because it’s so hard to start anything and care about it and share it with the world. As I write this now, I wonder where I’m going with this (argument), and where I’m going with this (website). What’s the point of writing ideas out online versus in my journal where only I may see these things? That’s a hard question I don’t think I know the answer to.
It seems like AI is destroying everything it touches, and it’s come for writing. Nobel Laureates are using AI for their writing. I don’t get it. I don’t want to get it. I hate it. So I have been journaling by hand, and that’s really all. I’ve not been writing poetry, fiction, or non-fiction to a degree that I would like to be. Nor am I reading anything to the degree I wish to be. I’m falling into the traps of technology. Not solely this perfectionism I’m talking about, but the idea of anything I write being lost in the ether, unseen, unread, uncared for by the masses. But then I think about AI–I think about all these stupid posts I’m reading on LinkedIn about it (because that’s the only social media I have right now because I don’t want to get addicted to instagram again, and also I like the puzzle games it has) and I keep writing useless comments on the bottom of random posts talking about AI in writing. How I will never and have never used AI purposefully, and why I find it useless and damaging to writing as an art form (and all the other reasons like the cognitive creep of it, the environmental impact of it, etc.). Some things I have said about it include reasons why I don’t use it. And those reasons why have been incredibly motivating and help me realize why I like writing.
I want my writing to be read, I want to share my work with people around the world. I like to think that I have good ideas. There’s a narcissism to every writer in this way. People will want to read our work. Of course. And if they don’t, well, what’s the purpose of writing it? I find myself getting stuck in that thought loop regularly, without thinking of writing as an art but a form of production. I produce for you to consume. But I wouldn’t say that about painting. Or my journaling. Or many other styles of art. Even art styles that are meant to be perceived by small crowds of people–like zines–art in these forms can more easily be said to be done for art’s sake. But writing–I have a purpose in mind for my pieces when I write them, so if I don’t share my writing, the purpose feels lost. But then WHY DO I JOURNAL?
I’ve been journaling since my freshman year of high school. I’ve been journaling since before I came out even to myself as gay. Before I knew the word queer or non-binary or neurodivergent. I don’t quite know why I started journaling, I’ll have to go back and read them to see if there are hints, but I know why I journal now. Or why I journal about some specific things now at least. I journal regularly to figure out my belief system. My personal philosophy. What about me has been floating around my head for years and yearns to be known more concretely by myself. Sometimes this philosophizing comes out when I’m high, sure, but other times I get bored or I’m reading something and I suddenly have an opinion I want to share with myself.
So why can’t I write in a blog format about things such as this? Just write what comes to mind, off the page and on the computer screen. It’s as simple. But it feels less real this way too. It feels performative. Why then should I not fall to the complete opposite end of the spectrum, or do a real 360, and never write for the public eye. If my writing is an art and I want it to avoid the traps of production and performance, why then perform at all? Why produce for other eyes beyond my own. I don’t think I know the answer to that. Sure, it may spark joy, or it may cause one to think, but is that worth it? Does that corrupt my writing with a purpose beyond my own? My purpose is fulfilled when I finish writing a piece. Fully edited and cared for. If I wrote like that just for myself, then I’ve grown and created and resisted the urges of constant consumption which capitalism forces us to endure. But when I upload that piece…
Does anyone have a reason they share their art with others? Why do you do it? Why do you do art in the first place? I don’t want the purpose of my art to be about being good. I don’t want the purpose of my art to be about production. Or consumption.
This is a first draft so I’ve not thought critically about it. And I hesitate to even look back at it at all for fear that I will delete it and never share. Perhaps the real reason I want to write here is to communicate. Writing as communication. Not art. Not production. That feels more right. I want to hear your thoughts.