As you may know, I schedule my posts. So by the time a post is published and I read it, I’m reading my thoughts anew. Sometimes (enough times), this proves a pleasant surprise. In these cases, my feelings run in the direction of, “hey, I had something to say, and I took the time to say it/write it down. Pat on the back for myself.”. Other times, the surprises weren’t so pleasant.
On a few posts — you probably have your own opinions as to which those are — I’m a little red-faced by what I had chosen to publish. I recognize in their existence that I’m dangerously close to violating my own dictum of writing only when I have something to say. With some posts, I’ve probably crossed that line, and with the rest in the category, if I didn’t, it’s only by a hair.
If I shouldn’t have published these posts, why didn’t I exercise the good judgement of deleting them? Perhaps I was too charitable to myself when I wrote them and so didn’t feel a need. Perhaps I was too harsh on myself when I read them, and so there is no objective need to do so. (In either case, having made the posts public, I feel uncomfortable changing the record of what has transpired and so have left them standing.)
We probably sub-optimally censor ourselves due to the natural fondness to stuff we’ve produced. Taking a wrecking ball to a house that one built is hard; hitting delete on a completed post requires less heavy machinery but may be difficult and too little done as well. Perhaps what I need is a little more perfectionism, a little more antsy anxiety about my wordsmithing. What do you think? Is more anxiety good? Do doctors prescribe anti anti-anxiety pills nowadays?
PS. Wouldn’t it be funny if this turns out of one of the posts that I should’ve deleted? How we’ll laugh . . .
(Photo from Rémi Prévost.)