The alchemy and the promise

Photo by Ryul Davidson

There are pros and cons to publishing every week. Like exercising, doing it regularly makes it much easier to do it again the next time. But a week isn’t a lot of time to come up with and explore a topic. For this day and age and attention spans, maybe that’s OK, but without fail, as soon as I hit publish, I think of some section I could have expanded or a different angle altogether. It’s as if this information is sealed in an envelope that I can only read after I’ve shared my work.

I’m starting to understand that this is a pro wrapped in a con, that this is the alchemy and the promise of writing. When something’s in a drafts folder, it’s safe. It’s just an idea, and no one has to know about it unless I tell them. Once any of us hits send or share, though, Schrodinger’s cat is alive, and the work crystallizes in ways you couldn’t comprehend when it was only an idea. You suddenly see how someone else might interpret it another way or how you could have taken it a third way and part of you wishes you could have it back.

Say you could hit undo and rewind. You’d also have to return the knowledge that only comes from seeing something through another’s eyes. You’d venture nothing and gain nothing. You’d go back to be believing that if you only had more time, you could make it perfect. But the secret ingredient isn’t time. It’s people.

Given enough time, it might never be finished. Given enough feedback, it might still never be finished, but you’ll have what you need to get it there. It might turn out to be your life’s work, this tinkering, and if you’re lucky, you’ll revise and share and revise and share.