As I explore low-intensity ways to help me restart a daily writing practice (which is not going as swimmingly as I’d like), earlier this year I joined a free, self-paced email workshop that introduces you to the idea of web writing, how to succeed at it, tools to help you develop content, etc. I think it will be very helpful for me when I am able to focus on it, but I have also had a “do not cite the deep magic to me” moment. I was probably already writing online when these guys were children riding bikes around their neighborhoods.

I realize that things evolve and I don’t know all there is to know…but isn’t there some beauty in that too? I feel like the internet is saturated with people trying to tell you who’s right, who’s wrong, the 10 Best Whatevers, the single best exercise to fix your [body part], how to eschew personal responsibility and blame someone else for everything that is wrong with you.

With millions of people on the internet trying to position themselves as an expert or authority on something, aren’t we diluting the definition of the word authority? What if we don’t invite people to “join the conversation” or “smash that like button!”? What if we just authentically shared parts of our lives in an attempt to relate to others–not for the algorithm or the ‘gram?

I am not an expert in any one thing (other than myself, and even that is questionable sometimes). I am more of a generalist. But I think there is a benefit in that too. Maybe this entire post is a self-serving argument for me to have a place at this table even if I am not yelling in your face about how smart I am.

I think I am trying to understand more clearly how/when/where/why we shifted from marveling at how the internet could connect us to just trying to bilk it for every penny, like, or click that we could. Who decided that’s what it’s best used for? Can we take it back?

Adapted from my Substack post on May 03, 2024.