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Why Write? Because I Care

Edgar Degas, The Dance Class, 1874

At the end of August 2023, my company team's interns (four of them) had just finished their summer internship and were leaving back to their regular lives. As is customary, a card was drafted and all employees were given the time ahead of our farewell party to write something nice. This was a virtual card so I was able to spend some time workshopping what I wanted to write.

I wrote a draft paragraph. I considered the order of their names. I thought about what I actually knew about them. I wrote about how I saw them: how they inspired me in their individual ways, and I wished them well. Then, I rewrote sentences. I added commas, removed commas, changed diction, considered tone (“Am I taking this goodbye note too seriously,” I wondered. “I should be doing actual work, right?”), and after thirty minutes or so I felt that I had struck the appropriate balance for a goodbye paragraph on a card for four interns who likely wouldn't read it. And that's the point. I had so much fun writing this thing that didn't matter at all. How easy—and likely, typical, expected, etc.—would it have been to have written: "Great getting to meet you all. Good luck in your future endeavors and feel free to reach out!" These sorts of messages are normal, but when I reflect on my past actions and feelings, writing's intrinsic value becomes clear. Since I enjoy writing for its own sake, I should honor those feelings.

P, S, T, V:

I really enjoyed getting to know each of you when I was in M. It was only for a short amount of time but it was clear you all have great energy, curiosity, and kindness. I’m glad that you are passionate about different topics spanning our routine existence to society at large and that you want to make the world better. Good luck with everything moving forward. I hope the remaining years of college are full of cherished memories and lifelong friends.

With work, I do it because I need to make money; I need money to pay to live but I don't care intrinsically. It actually worries me because I think to be competitive you should have a single focus. I do care about being competent at my job but I’m not obsessed with being the best.

I had an interview last week where the CEO of this tiny (3 person) startup asked me what my software engineering goals were. The root of his question, I forget the exact wording, was: "How good of a software engineer do you want to be?" He elaborated further, "We're looking for someone who wants to be like John Carmack, someone who revolutionizes the field." I was dumbfounded initially but eventually composed myself and answered honestly that this was definitely not my goal.

After an extended pause, with both of us unsure of what exactly should be said next, he forged ahead, “Well let me know if I’m getting the wrong read on this.” I told him I’ll consider the question a bit more and reach out if I have anything else to add; we thanked each other for the time, and ended the call there.

I was surprised by the question on the call but after some reflection, it succeeded in getting to the point of what they’re looking for: someone who wants to code twelve hours a day, every day; someone who want to be the best at what they do. And what is it that I do? What do I want to be the best at? Even if I will never enter the promised land, what is my personal land of milk and honey?

I'll never be the best who ever lived at anything, but striving to write beautifully and authentically seems like a worthwhile goal—not because it makes sense intellectually, but because emotionally it feels right. It's a goal that scares me and embarrasses me to admit. At the end of the day, though, goals without action hardly matter; there is no secret fast pass: it takes work and putting in the reps. I'm not where I want to be right now but what would be possible 10,000 Substacks later?

In one hundred years, everyone alive on Earth today will be dead. It would be a shame if I let fear stop me from doing something that brings me joy. I don’t necessarily care whether my writing is good or bad. I'm doing this because it is fun for me and because I have to. It also terrifies me because I care so much. When I publish something my heart pounds; I get nervous; I have to go on a walk to calm down. But that’s when I feel most alive.