Writing
I love talking. I hate writing.
Everyone always says - “just write how you talk.” But that’s hard. Talking is way different than writing.
When I talk, you can hear the tone of my voice. I can share a half-baked idea1 and make it better through conversation. There is an expectation that I might change my mind if someone else makes a better point. When that happens, I can say “I like that point. Forget what I said earlier. Let’s go with that.”2 When I talk, I feel confident in my ability to say what I actually mean and change it when I’m wrong.
I don’t feel this security when I’m writing. I am intimidated by the clear and crisp writing of many people I admire. I am nervous that my good points will sound trite and my dumb points will be forever memorialized as dumb. I am afraid that my writing will make me sound stupid.
Historically, this feeling has resulted in me simply not writing. Or only doing so when I have to. When my kids say they are not good at something, I always respond with “How do we get better at things?”. It’s become such a common refrain that they now roll their eyes and groan when they give me back the answer, “Praaaactice.” But the repetition represents how strongly I believe this. In fact, if I could choose only one thing to instill in our children, it would not be curiosity. It would not even be kindness. It would be agency. I want them to know they are the captains of their own ships. This is why I ask them how they get better at things. This is why I tell them to practice. I want them to have the confidence and happiness that comes from the belief that you can solve your own problems.
In my experience as a parent3 and someone who has parents, nothing makes a kid happier than using one of their parents’ go-to lines against them. So with my kids’ voices ringing in my head, “How do we get better at things, Daddy?”, there is only one thing to do now that we have established that I am no good at writing. That’s right. Praaaactice.
So this is an attempt to do that. With that in mind, I have an ask for you: Let’s please make this a conversation. If you think I’m wrong, tell me. I promise I will want to make it better. And if by some miracle I have clearly communicated the point and we actually disagree, maybe we can stop this writing business and move this over to a 1:1 conversation :)
1 If I end up writing anything more, I will write a full post on this called “Irresponsible Analysis”. I love Irresponsible Analysis from smart people. I am capitalizing Irresponsible Analysis because I think of it as a defined term. More to come. Or not.
2 This is a Doug Leone special in partner meetings. Incredibly powerful behavior from a leader.
3 An investment banking analyst might say that my wife and I have 50 years of combined parenting experience (our kids are 9, 9, and 7). This is absurd. If you are a founder reading this, I implore you not to do this kind of math on your team slide. Please.