The Perks and Perils of Writing Solo
Three positives, and one abiding worry, in the newsletter life
On the latest episode of Abbott Elementary, the character who best embodies fears I have about my own conduct in the world has a learning moment.
Jacob is a try-hard—one of two in the show—with the added “cringe” component of always performing solidarity with other demographic struggles in a way that still manages to centre him, and how “woke” he is, in every related conversation.
It’s good to have phobias. For some, it’s clowns. For others, balloons.
For me, it’s Jacob.
In this episode, “Alex”, Jacob breaks a few core teaching rules by talking about a student’s grade publicly and disparagingly, in the middle of a conversation about software now used by educators to detect AI-generated material. But even though that huge red flag never gets addressed, Jacob does then endure a public shaming himself, when he discovers that two of his colleagues have been using generative AI to write responses to his emails on all manner of ponderous topic.
Ego wounded by their fake replies, Jacob is all in a huff until the school janitor’s newsletter becomes too much work for him—leading him to use AI to generate a reply, in turn. When the janitor catches him out, the following exchange ensues:
Melissa: What the hell, Jacob? You gave us a hard time for using it, but then you go and do the same thing to Mr. Johnson?
Jacob: I’m sorry, I’ve been completely underwater this week.
Melissa: Mr. Johnson is single-handedly responsible for keeping most of the toilets in this joint running some of the time. Yet he still found the time to put his heart and soul into that newsletter.
Jacob: Wait, so you authentically respond to his newsletter, but not mine?
Barbara: He sends one email per quarter and it is usually filled with delightful anecdotes and musings.
Melissa: You send ten emails a day, and you know what? I rarely feel like I’m learning a thing about you.
Jacob: Oh, and you feel like you learn something about Mr. Johnson from that newsletter? I think we all know he likes to clean!
Mr. Johnson: Actually it’s about more than spring cleaning, and explores its origins in the Iranian culture. I learned a lot about the Iranian people since their problematic depiction in 300. … And you would’ve known that if you’d read my newsletter, you ignorant fool.
This exchange perfectly embodies the lie behind Jacob’s character: for all that he wants to be seen as enlightened, he’s still centrally class-climbing, so his dismissal of Mr. Johnson’s contributions comes as easily as breathing. Even though both men are using the same medium with the same reach, Jacob can’t help but act like his work is more worthy of everyone’s time and thoughtful replies than others.
Nightmare fuel. I sure as heck hope I don’t ever act like Jacob.
And yet, when I send out a run of longer, heavier emails, as has been the case for the last few weeks, I do worry. Sometimes it feels extremely important to be thorough, and to offer anecdotal “on-ramps” to difficult subject matter. If I’m going to talk about topics that affect real people, I should do so carefully, no?
Except that there’s no gun to my head when writing these pieces. I might feel an intense moral pressure to say something, but that’s a “me” problem at the end of the day. I choose to write longer, intricate, more demanding work on many occasions. And… I could choose otherwise! Problem (and stress levels) solved, if I did.
It’s also ridiculous to think that, just because I’m writing at length on a frequent basis about Matters of Great Importance, everyone will have time to read such tomes. It’s similarly misguided (and bordering on elitist) to think that heft alone lends value to a work. Sometimes the best writing is brief, and doesn’t need as much research. Excellent writing can simply present an idea in its general form, without anxiously trying to anticipate every counterpoint, and invite readers to fill in the blanks.
And I’m working on that, I promise. In the future, I do hope that my Monday to Wednesday posts will be shorter reads more consistently. One key thought, well-expressed, each morning: on media, on our “tough times”, and on historical precedent.
But for today’s Thorough Thursday, in lieu of another giant slog after two hefty reads already this week, I have three shorter reflections on the perks of going “solo”, via this newsletter, in contrast to writing with a more formal media organization.
(And no, please don’t ever feel like you have to reply—with AI-generated comments, or otherwise. I simply hope that these posts in your inboxes and media feeds find you well, whether or not there’s time or interest in your life for what I’m writing here.)
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