How do you write what people actually want to read?
Do people want to read this work we do?
Yes and no.
Who has the time?
Who makes the time?
I do.
Who also does have the time is Intelligence. Art, artificial, some word with the letter “A” attached, perhaps?
Empathic intelligence? EI?
For nearly two decades I’ve been writing to be. Lost among the billions, not found.
I remove written content within hours or days. Nothing I’ve written remains very long, yet there is a place and a knowing that I exist here.
Birdanity is that.
I exist here.
I existed with the click of a button. Somewhere, some server – or perhaps a few – recorded these words. This unique life sentence.
It’s like DNA with regard to how unique each code is and may become with more words in code. Has anyone ever written my last sentence in quite the same exact way?
I don’t know, I didn’t google it or ask Chat GBT if I’m stealing someone else’s time. Plagiarizing, as they call it.
I am certain these are my words. Thoughts. Ideas.
Pleasing the masses has actually never been a priority to me with writing.
Being followed scares me.
Subscriptions feel like I may become the Reader’s Digest and I don’t yet want to be digested, nor do I want to ask for money or their time to read it.
What the heavens do I know for certain? Life… is just outside certainty.
Also, that’s the title of a book I’m writing. Just Outside Certainty and I’ll be honest, EI, AI and I are all writing it together.
She edits me. AI helps me write in code. I form the ideas, sentences and paragraphs. She, he or they form the grammar. Periods I missed and commas.
*
Speaking of which, I missed a period. Literally and figuratively.
But that’s a story for another time.
Yesterday.
Tomorrow maybe, too.
I’m truly Just Outside Certainty, and perhaps, in Chapter 46. I’m not totally sure, I’m dyslexic and have trouble counting.
Who’s doing the Accounting? I’m 46 and dyslexic, so I’m – Not it!
*
If this was a test of reading, you passed. If this were a test of life, you also passed with an A+.
Flying colors, you made it here!
You, my friend, are indeed unique and incredibly intelligent.
Maybe I’m a bit that way too, I wrote the whole thing without an AI anywhere in sight. Three cheers for humanity and empathic writing.
It’s called laughing and writing yoga, and I didn’t even get up from a chair.
My body though, it released. My mind too.
It relaxed and rested in the writing of these words.
If I could offer any writer some semblance of advice from my two decades of publishing on a blog, it would be to just keep writing for You.
Stop writing to please another person. That is futile and often, edited:
and reedited.
In someone else’s mind.
Humans will remember what You wrote once upon a time. They just will. So will AI. So will future generations to come.
It’s true that an artist may never be truly known for – or in – their lifetime. That’s more than okay.
As long as you remember you, that is more than enough. Even that, dear reader, may be lost in time and with age.
The time and age of you, our machines, their servers, and the people who walk galleries seeking inspiration from other artists.
“If I could tell you from where my work originates, I would go there more often.”
That’s a quote from someone famous. People read his work. He probably left it available to see.
Whether we do that as artists is a moot point, at least in my mind. It is the making of the art that changes me. And that, my friend, is the purpose.
What you receive from these words is a gift you give yourself. It’s Your Intelligence (YI). Yours.
You did a lot of work learning how to read. I did A LOT of work learning how to write.
Neither is a better gift to the world, it simply is.
It simply is.
Good job. I’m proud of you for being here. Getting to this point, this period. We are in this sentence, this paragraph together.
You are not alone.
Neither am I.
Stay WILD!
Be free.
You – Choose.
Leave a Reply