Pippa Hillebrand

An audacious title, for a very ordinary post.

But that is the thing about writing. It is audacious. You are putting down on paper, indelibly (kind of), a set of thoughts, opinions, feelings, or facts. If you choose to write educational or factual pieces, you need to be very clear on the truth of those facts. If you choose to write fiction, you can get away with a lot more, but you still have to maintain a level of internal consistency.

Writing is not just about the content. It is also about the style. There are rules in place which govern the flow and readability of the work you have put together. Teachers spend twelve or more years trying hammer those grammatical rules into us at school, but most of the time we ignore them entirely. Those of us who have done a lot of reading may have absorbed them naturally. Others may find that knowing the rules helps them to communicate clearly. I consider it a bit like fine art, if all you have is technique, with no emotion or narrative, then whilst it is still better than anything I could achieve myself, it feels hollow. When you loosen the technique – using what feels right in the moment – you are able to capture your emotion into the piece, and whilst it may be technically inferior, in every other way it will outshine your other works.

Writing, poetry in particular, requires that sentiment. A good writer has read many different styles, and melded them together to form their own. We should not all follow the strict structure of a Shakespearian sonnet, but nor should every poet try to emulate e. e. cummings. Our teachers may know that, I’m not sure they ever explain to us why the appreciation of poetry is important. Nor why we should care about the difference between couplets and Capulets.

But this isn’t supposed to be a rant about how teachers of the arts don’t always understand what it is their students are hearing in their lessons. I wanted to write about writing because writing is something I do quite a lot of. Not all of my writing shows up as a blog post. There are many journals filled with bad writing (in the technical sense) in which I work through my thoughts. I spend time writing notes on conversations, or writing code. I write poetry and fiction. I write technical designs and problem statements. If reading is like consuming good food, or lying in the sun, writing is like spending time baking, or introducing someone to your favourite walking trails.

Approaching Writing

In my experience, people consider writing to be intimidating. Much like speaking in public, or doing anything new. So having a set approach to how you start writing may be helpful. It won’t always be the same. I approach a blog post very differently to a design document, and differently again to a poem. Admittedly poetry is more often written on my phone, in my notes app, because it is short form, and in the moment. Where a blog post requires that I have some thoughts and opinions I want to share. It may sit as a draft for several days (or weeks) until I am able to settle the matter in my mind. In general though, I will sit down (in the morning if I can), set a time box for an hour, maybe an hour and a half, put on some classical music, and write. I keep lists of topics, and I frequently pick something that is top of mind instead of something which is on that list. Then I write. It is why these posts get a bit rambly, I don’t always know exactly where they are going before I write them. I usually have some key points I want to cover, but stuff sneaks in, and I flow with it.

Poetry is like music – an overflow of emotion expressed through words and sounds in such a way that another person might share that feeling. It tells a story in a short form, not always a complete story. Frequently just enough of a snippet to provide the emotion, without the context. Poetry is different from lyrics for songs. Lyrics may be assisted by the underlying music, or even exist only to form a medium on which the music is expressed. A counter point on a beat, or a sigh in a melody. Good poetry lets the reader (or listener) feel what the author felt, without the deep examination we do in literature classes.

Deeply technical writing is an entirely different beast. We move out of the realm of opinion and emotion, and into the realm of fact. Narrative flow is still helpful in expressing the underlying concepts, but there is no room for guess work or conjecture. Facts must be checked. Data must be gathered. Opinions may be formed, but they must also be countered where possible. Often these pieces will have a specific desired outcome. Perhaps a new system or feature. Perhaps a new approach to working on something. Perhaps a new set of tests or best practises. The language can very easily become formal and strict – if you read through the RFCs regarding standards and protocols in internet communication, you will see certain keywords used very deliberately. In order to achieve these goals, the document needs to provide the reader with sufficient context to come to an agreement with the author.

Some of my favourite technical documents to write have come from a place of deep disagreement between people I highly respect. If these two people have strong differences in opinion on how something should be done, then to listen to them both, collate their ideas in an unbiased manner, perhaps add in a few of my own, and present it to both of them as a unified solution is a wonderful thing. These differences in opinion, and disagreements will highlight the shortcomings of a proposal beautifully. Something which we prefer not to do when looking at our own ideas. If we can take those different options, and find one which satisfies both parties, we can rest assured that it is a solution which surpasses either one individually. You cannot do that without deep research, looking through literature, finding facts, calculating costs, and even at times building proof of concept models.

You cannot just sit and allow such a document to flow. Not in the way of an opinion piece or a work of fiction. You must have a structure to guide the result. A set of questions to answer. An ideal outcome. You may go through multiple drafts, include multiple different ways that won’t work. Some people suggest that asking an LLM to look over your writing as a second opinion may help you find things you have missed (I wouldn’t know, I haven’t tried it). One thing I do hold to, is that the act of writing these pieces is as important as, if not more important than, the impact of the piece once written.

It’s not just me

I came to the idea of writing about writing, after reading about writing. There are two super important pieces in this article from Stedi which tie into what I have said above. The whole thing is worth a read, but if you must focus on a small part, look at how they discuss roadblocks, and emphasise written communication. The quote from Paul Graham really sticks with me. In particular this piece:

If writing down your ideas always makes them more precise and more complete, then no one who hasn’t written about a topic has fully formed ideas about it.

Words make ideas concrete. They do not make those ideas infallible, but they make them more complete. They take time to settle and cure, and then it takes a lot of work to break through them. Yes, this could be dangerous if the original words are wrong. They are still valuable.

Writing is not a fast process. Nor should it be. Rushing means you miss things. Taking the time to slow down and think deeply is important. The words I am living by this year coming out again. Slow down. Be deliberate. Think deeply. Choose wisely. Don’t rush into the first and most obvious solution, go broad first, and come back to that solution once you are certain that the other options are inferior. Challenge your biases. Growth happens slowly, give it time.