I remember the good times of LiveJournal and autonomous blogs¹. I met people without saying “hello” to them. I read their thoughts, encountered oddities and stupidities that gradually revealed the author’s personality. They were my friends!

Then came marketing. Marketers taught how to write better - this was the beginning of the end. Blogs became like plastic “Barbie houses”. There is no need to be afraid that artificial intelligence will replace writers, because the writer has already been replaced by a marketer.

Instead of creating a place to express (or find) themselves, authors turn their blog into a glamour magazine, “business media”, or a verified dry document. They try to find a better voice and correct mistakes, but in the end they lose both their voice and the opportunity to make mistakes (because we must make mistakes in order to grow).

Notes are not a work of art - they are ore.

Yes, you need to learn to write well — good text helps to structure thoughts. But the “editor-in-chief”² cutting up the text in pursuit of points is extreme. Read the “editorial”³ texts — dry, documentary, with an artificial note of soul.

I was surprised to notice that I find it interesting to reread the drafts of my notes (notes that I did not publish for some reason). This is ore — black, dirty, but with value inside. Or without value, but this remains to be seen. There are real emotions there, because they are still very fresh; thoughts that lead to a dead end or to the top of the mountain.

“Ore” is needed for production. News, thoughts, links. For example, I’m working on a podcast right now and have to process a lot of that ore. Of course, you can rebroadcast it as is, but then I won’t be in it. I want to be a source, not a channel - that’s very important!

To have the courage to publish a draft as soon as possible, you need to work with the garage door open.

Here’s what Andy Matuschak⁴ writes about public work:

There’s a scientific glassblowing studio north of us; I walk past it on the sidewalk often. By simply existing, and having a nice sign that faces the street, they are doing a small public service every day. We are here, working.

In the same light industrial complex as the Murray Street Media Lab, there’s a woodworking shop, and the man who runs it always keeps his door propped open. Simple as that. What a delight, every damn day, to ride my bike past that door and peek inside and see all his tools, the boards stacked up for whatever commission he’s undertaking. I am here, working.

For me, Andy’s evergreen notes is a great example of public service.

I don’t know where my thoughts will take me. I just create a new text file in Obsidian and start writing - whole thoughts or fragments, links and feelings can go in there. Tomorrow, I or someone else will find a gem in this ore. Or not.

Suddenly, I realized the beauty of the concept of “breadcrumbs.” You might have heard it used in the context of navigating interfaces¹. But I thought of breadcrumbs in the context of documentation. We leave things along the way so that we can remember who we are and why we are here.

I thought asking myself questions would help me write, but it turns out they hinder me. The frameworks we put ourselves in were not invented by us and not specifically for us. Yes, we are all Homo sapiens¹ — we can be classified and have instructions written for us. But instructions on how to do morning exercises or count in a column are one thing, and how to think and create is another — we have different intellectual abilities, interests, and our moods often change. There are many variables, and the best rule that will work is no rules (frameworks). Write.

In childhood, many different events happened - everything was new, everything was for the first time, everything was interesting. But the older we get, the more “flat” and monotonous life feels. It seems that now there is little surprise, but a lot of routine. You may well remember the moment you met a peer on that cozy winter evening in the schoolyard twenty-five years ago, but you don’t remember the topic of an interesting conversation with a friend two months ago or the delight of yesterday’s sunset.

People strive to diversify their lives, to make it brighter and richer, but if you turn around and look back, everyone will see a dark, calm river. Life flows, but we do not remember its moments.

Looking at childhood, we understand that we have become better. Growth and development are noticeable in the comparison of the current and previous moments (retrospective).

Here’s what I wrote about this in my regular note 2024-05-19:

In general, the question of coercion and motivation is open. Is it necessary to do this or am I thus preventing myself from maturing and being reborn, renewed? Without renewal I am degrading. A child cannot refuse to grow and mature. But as we age, if we do not observe progress in retrospect, we do not develop. I wanted to write that time is not worth it and you need to keep up, but is an oak tree or a leaf trying to keep up? Are they generally afraid of being late?

But I will focus on this. The point is not to compare something to look smart. Today, from every “iron” you can hear a call to become even more intelligent, well-read, analytical, and comparing. Nope! You need to be human and just try to live the moments more carefully, not lose the precious “beads” of life, but carefully collect them and string them on a fishing line, enjoying life, observing and drawing conclusions about yourself and the world around you.

What to do? Start documenting your life!

Notes help to record emotions and feelings of the moment. In the future, it will be much easier for me to dig up a note to remind myself and others of that very moment.

Even if only for yourself. Of course, I don’t think that the reader will immediately shed tears after reading my quote from an article from a year ago. No! First of all, I want to make myself cry or laugh. This old note becomes part of a new product (note, article, book, podcast, film) and brings a piece of that energy here. This can be compared to the torch that I brought to light a new fire.

I’ve checked this many times. If something comes to mind, write it down right now. Then it will be a different you with different thoughts and energy. And to force yourself means to no longer be real.

This is how Pyotr Rukavina maintains his blog:

I generally write in real time: an idea occurs to me, and the idea takes on a life of its own, gets “called to be written about,” and I try to carve out the time to do so right away. I don’t find the process of writing onerous; generally words flow out of me, and while I will go back and edit the words, finessing the meaning, correcting errors, what emerges is generally fairly close to what I wrote down in the first place.

I write a lot of posts via email, a capability that has allowed me to take my writing out of “sitting in front of a laptop” and, really, anywhere I’m struck. Writing on a tiny iPhone SE isn’t the best and most natural environment (though voice-to-text helps), but the benefit of being able to “strike while the iron is hot” outweighs the fussiness of the tool. These days perhaps half of what I write is on the phone.

Write, rewrite, delete, write again. This practice is beneficial in itself. You don’t write for the sake of good text now – text is just a tool. You write to focus on your thoughts.

Final editing on the one hand is useful because… helps to structure thoughts, on the other hand, when editing we lose the whole “broth”. It is necessary to look at texts not only as the delivery of value in the form of clear and crystallized thoughts, but as a space in which the reader is born his own.

Where else is there such space in media? Podcasting is the closest thing to this because it creates a space in which you and the listener spend time thinking. It won’t work with video (or it’s very difficult) because… the authors still need to fight every second for the viewer’s attention.