Finding the "spark" again

It's your emotions, stupid!

I never considered myself a serious writer. I had felt that taking something seriously meant being super buttoned-up. Extra professional. Extra disciplined. Extra diligent. A goody two-shoes writer who might get rewarded by the system with goody two-shoes readers (if they’re lucky, at least).

For a long time, I emotionally withheld myself from writing long-form. Any little I published would escape from my mind into lengthy tweet threads or “notes” for my digital garden. I wasn’t writing to anyone. Not my friends, not my family, not my mentors.

It felt heavy to think about writing long form. Cumbersome. Each word I clawed from my inner mind, and while they’d slosh and flail on the cutting board, gasping to be put back, I would severe the connection, and arrange them into a dish.

Now to be fair, it’s a completely doable process. Just not an enlivening one.

Writing is joyful for me. I love every aspect of it. The word-craft, the research and readings, the conversations that bloomed from finding out something new and sharing it with others. Even the time spent wrestling with half-ideas and concepts was a playful struggle. However, my fear with taking writing seriously was that the drive to excel would also drive away the joy of my freewheeling spirit. What good is a book that you had to read for school compared to a book you picked up for fun and enjoyed because you wanted it?

A part of it honestly came down to: “I’m good at writing. I can get better at writing. But can I be reliably good at writing and communicating effectively?” The normal worries of a creative reared their ugly heads. What if it’s trash? (Nobody’s reading it anyway). What if I run out of ideas? (Remix your old ones, new people haven’t seen it and nobody’s remembered them anyway). What if I lose my spark? (there are a million things you can try–try a few to start).

So as I withdrew from writing publicly, my emotions sealed me into a cocoon. A bubble universe, entirely contained. And the longer I spent in the cocoon the more guilt I felt about not writing. In all the disarray of my emotions, I lost sight of what it was I wanted. I wanted this. I want my words to reach you. I want my essays to travel. I want to be invited into homes around the world, as a respected guest, welcomed like an old friend. I want to feel like I’m really great at what I do. I want to be among the best. So what does it take to be one of the best? What can I do to keep showing up?

The problem with many people who are possessed by ambition it seems, is that they don’t often take the steps to translating the ambition into reality. What needs to be true for this outcome to pass? How can I optimize for the win condition? Ambition is unwieldy to hold. It’s such a strong motivator but without concreteness, it’ll drive you insane. For me, to be the best means showing up repeatedly. It means beating the Resistance I feel when I don’t feel particularly writerly some days. It means trudging through the times when it’s hard with the same discipline as when it’s easy. There is no attachment to outcomes. I simply perform my duties. It doesn’t have to be some holy or noble thing. It’s simply something born of joy and continued by discipline.

I was talking to MM a few weeks ago and she said something I found reassuring. She told me that my interests are my interests and I can pursue them as I see fit. Yes, I can be creative. Sure, it won’t result in an immediate turnaround but the things that can grow from it are wonderful and worth cultivating. It was apparent to her that many of the great things in my life came from an almost stubborn persistence to do what I felt was the way forward. I have that decisiveness in me, and the confidence. I just ought to channel it more.

The question became: who am I writing this for? I’m writing for creatives at every stage of the process. I’m writing for generalists and nerds who are delighted by curious things. I write for people who just want to read something that feels like a comfort, like a friend checking in. I write to be a voice of warmth and provide a little joy with each dispatch.

These words are for the curious, creative, and quietly ambitious. For the discerning professionals, designers, writers, marketers, developers, and artists. This is soul nourishing comfort food. A cup of coffee by the window with a view. I’m here to remind you to stay connected with your mission, your joy, and love of craft.

I’m activating a paid tier to this newsletter for those who want to be part of a closer circle. It’s like the quiet room in a library or a backroom of a café where the conversation continues a little longer and ideas can stretch further. Paid subscribers will get access to members-only curated resources and links, behind-the-scenes process notes, and a space for thoughtful discussion. I’d love to see you there.

Cheers,
Eashan