#334 Writing isn’t hard
Writing isn’t hard. Writing every day is – until it isn’t anymore.
That’s when writing becomes hard.
Build the habit, then you get a shot at building the skill.
Writing isn’t hard. Writing every day is – until it isn’t anymore.
That’s when writing becomes hard.
Build the habit, then you get a shot at building the skill.
Write, not for the words flowing on the page, but for how writing makes you feel.
Run, not for the personal records, but for how running makes you feel.
Help out friends, not for expecting them to return the favor, but for how helping out friends makes you feel.
Do the right thing, not for any outer reward, but an inner feeling of aligning with who you want to be.
No one is bad at sticking to habits.
Because everyone’s day-to-day life is stitched together with recurring activities anyway, whether you consciously choose to do them or not.
Maybe you brush your teeth every day – and that has become a non-negotiable.
Maybe you wash your hands before every meal – and that has become a non-negotiable.
Maybe you shower every morning right after waking up – and that has become a non-negotiable.
Maybe you write every day – and that has become a non-negotiable.
Maybe you practice yoga three times a week – and that has become a non-negotiable.
Maybe you spend 10 minutes daily catching up with family, friends, acquaintances, or relatives you haven’t seen in a while – and that has become a non-negotiable.
Habits are habits.
And that has an interesting consequence:
If you can do that, you can also do this.
When technology and AI outpace us and we can’t be the best, smartest, fastest, strongest on the planet anymore – will we still care about our economic output?
When results have become irrelevant, what are the things I will still want to do?
Maybe we’ll rediscover value in our actions themselves and the pleasure and pain they make us feel – happy, sad, useful, worthless, brimming with purpose, overflowing with self-hatred…?
Will I still write just because I enjoy writing, even if AI could write a better-researched, more insightful book than I ever could?
Will I still learn a language just because learning a language makes me feel good, even if I could use an instant translation device to talk to anyone in the world?
Will I still spend my days in an office cubicle if that’s a painful prospect?
An era of soul-searching is coming.
“I can only do that when…”
Remove the “only” and the when”.
I can do that.
And so can you.
A memory is what we decide to remember from an experience – and what we decide to delete and forget.
Intuition is the instant hunch we get after we’ve repeatedly created memories from experiences; the moment we don’t need the conscious memory anymore.
A small (or unrepresentative) sample size leads to inaccurate intuition.
If I’m betrayed three times in my life and have created strong memories around that, my intuition whenever meeting anyone else may be that they’ll betray me too. Three bad experiences have shaped, and skewed, my relationship to billions of others.
How to develop accurate intuition?
The more memories we create, the bigger the “sample size” for our intuition to emerge from, and the smaller the weight of “outlier events” (like being betrayed).
The more deliberately we create these memories, the more deliberately we hone intuition.
Create more memories. And create them deliberately.
What do we do when AI can cobble together in seconds essays that take us hours (or days) to write – not even counting years of practice?
Maybe it just raises the bar for us – requiring is to make new work that continues to stand out from AI-generated content.
As things stand, that’s still possible.
But what happens when the bar is set so high that our human brains can’t jump over it anymore, even with a lifetime of practice?