Ever since reading the original post, my head’s been caught up on something David Brothers - a man smarter, more attractive and less neurotic than myself, whom you should all be reading in case you’re not - said about writing the other day:
writing isn’t relaxing, exactly, though i think it is fairly calming. it’s more like focusing. it gives me something to focus on, and commit most or all of my brain power to, and in doing so, works out whatever kinks.
(Ignore the lack of upper case letters at the start of the sentences. Things like that are what blogs are for, unless you’re as anal about that kind of thing as I am.)
I think the reason it stays with me is because I half-agree, and half-don’t. I tend to write free-association-wise - as anyone who’s read any of my essays for Comix Experience’s newsletter can probably attest to - and, even though I’m consciously doing so, there’s definitely some element of… unfocusing, I guess, going on there? That’s not necessarily the best way to put it, although it’s perhaps the most accurate. The same thing happens with these blog entries; I start with only a vague idea of where I want to go or what I want to say, and see where I end up. It’s often as much a surprise to me as it is to anyone reading it.
When I’m working, it’s different - my writing there is more focused, but for some reason I tend to separate that from my writing. It’s a job, and I try to work within the expectations and confines of that (I also use this blog as a way to work out the unfocus, if that makes sense; I’m writing this in between work posts, because my attention was wandering and I need to meander to get my head straight). The distinction was made clearer to me recently when I agreed to write an essay for… something (I have no idea if I’m allowed to say yet. Ian?), and I had a moment of “How am I supposed to write this? Am I supposed to be the rambling, personal Graeme or the io9.com work Graeme?” confusion. I suspected that the latter was perhaps what was being looked for - it seemed to be the reason why I’d been asked, for one thing - and yet, I went with the former in the end because it felt more natural and the best way for me to offer something that no-one else in that position had, yet. And because of that, even though the essay was “work,” - and even included tax forms and getting paid and everything! - it seemed less foreboding and worrying (and perhaps less focused, as well).
Don’t get me wrong; I think work writing, and the skills it requires and teaches and hones, is worthwhile and something that I enjoy and think has made me a better writer… but there’s a side of my writing that leads me to disagree with David, and enjoy some writing as something that’s relaxing and unfocused and a discovery for all involved.
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
Content © Graeme McMillan, 2008-2009.
Powered by WordPress
That’s really interesting. I can see the unfocusing as being a kind of benefit. I think I approach the writing differently, like I have an end point (or awesome last line, or interesting observation) to get to, and part of the writing is just getting to that point. Unless I’m reading you wrong, you come at it from the other direction.
Your point about different kinds of writing is very good, too. I have a number of different style guides to follow at work (because why, exactly?), which change on a per-project/per-client basis. Doing a manual, doing a reviewer’s guide, and doing a strategy guide all need a different approach, and heaven help me if I have to do sell-sheet copy, because then I have to remember how to speak marketing and then my whole day is ruined.
Writing for 4l! is more or less what i describe above– I want to talk about how Marian Churchland is a new artist and awesome, I want to talk about how IGN’s latest review is particularly awful, I want to talk about how Brevoort is right, but right in a way that isn’t necessarily good.
The lowercase thing on iamdb: I’m trying to stay focused on the fact that it isn’t 4l!, and it isn’t work, so I don’t have to approach it in the same way. I’m trying to tell stories or mull things over, not explain what’s what. Forcing myself to break out of the rules kinda keeps me in that mindstate. It’ll probably fade after a couple weeks, as I get more comfortable with talking about myself. In other words, suck it, McMillan!
(I do find the focusing thing relaxing, sort of. It’s kinda like nothing else is going on while I’m writing like that, and that’s definitely a good thing.)