Writing a book in 365 days – 308

Day 308

Writing exercise

By the time I learned what she was saying, it was too late.

It was difficult to remember when the first signs of our relationship, if it could be called that, had started to disintegrate.

Thinking about it, there was no clear point, just a series of random events that most people would simply write off as ‘well, it just wasn’t going to work’.

Which was odd because until that indefinable moment in time, it had.

Perhaps it was the impossible odds.

Perhaps it was the way we met.

Perhaps the randomness wasn’t random at all.

Because when you switched perspectives and took the view that the whole thing had been a set-up from start to finish, it all made sense.

In a very disturbing way.

The insistent knocking on my door was not the best start to the day.  It had been a late night, and little too much to eat and drink and in a semi intoxicated state, it was hard to resist the temptation of letting Marianne stay.

Protocol dictated that it could not happen.

It was a long story, but having the secrets I had, even with the impregnable safe, no one was allowed to stay beyond a certain hour of the night.

Any other night when I didn’t have classified documents, not a problem.

I groaned, rolled over, and then it started again.

I climbed out and shook off the drowsiness, and headed for the door.  A look at the screen showed it was Marianne back, and agitated.

It was a state I’d never seen her in before.

Warning bells on the back of my head were going off.  Training told me that this could be a problem and that she had been compromised simply by being associated with me.

Some people knew who I really was, what my work was, and if that was the case, this was a level one problem

I put the code into my phone and sent it.

Just in case.

Then I opened the door.  “Marianne.”

“Phillip.  I need to see you?”

“You saw me last night and early this morning.  I’m neither up nor presentable.”

“Seriously?”

“We have had this discussion.  There are times when I am on call and I cannot have other people in the place.”

I had given her the standards spiel on the nature of my work and the confidentiality that surrounded it, and she had always understood.

Except this was beginning to be one of those instances of her subtly changing.

“Confidential information.  Yes.  But you are not in conversation with anyone.”

“I could be at any minute.  I can’t be seen shooing you out.  I would be severely reprimanded, even fired if it came to that.  Can it wait another hour or two?  I’m sorry.  I have to follow protocol.”

“Even at the possible expense of your relationships with others?”

I’d explained this too.  There was no choice, no matter what I felt.  I’d made a commitment.

“At this point in time, unfortunately, yes.”

I didn’t want to go down this path, but it seemed like the culmination of drifting apart.

She shrugged.  “I’m sorry then.”

I felt rather than heard a movement behind me, and then nothing. 

When I woke head hurt. 

Very badly.

While the details were fuzzy, I knew I had been hit from behind, that Marianne had diverted my attention while an accomplice had gained entry to my flat from the rear.

It was the building’s one weak spot.

Now I was in a dark space, smelling of damp and age, and I was lying on a bed of stacked newspapers, unbound.  Neither did I have a gag, so it was somewhere no one would ever hear me yell for help.

It didn’t stop me, but all there was in response was an echo.

If my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, then they could be working or not.  There was always light coming from somewhere, but not right at the moment.

That being the case, I had no idea how big the room was or whether anyone else was in it with me.  Or who it was that had put me, other than one unassailable fact; Marianne had helped them.

One fact of what could be many that I had overlooked, something that all people in the first throes of a relationship tended to do, unless of course you were suspicious of everyone and everything.

I should have been, but I naively wanted to believe in her.  Echoing in my head were those fateful words, If it’s too good to be true, it generally isn’t.

I cast my mind back to when I first met Marianne and realised it was too good to be true.  The chances of us being in the same place at the same time…

And then, cursing myself for being a creature of habit, for ignoring basic rules, and I had only myself to blame.

Was anything we had real?

“I’m sorry.” 

Marianne’s words ran over and over in my head.

Why would she say that?  It was certainly in a contrite tone, like she had meant it, which was odd if she was part of the kidnap team.

I opened my eyes and found that there was a crack in the ceiling where light was trying to get through, and that it was turning the inky blackness into an opaque blur.

There were no distinguishable objects, but it whiled away the time trying to identify them.  A sofa, a table, a chair, and what looked like a person, though it could be a mannequin.

It could be anything.

Until it moved slightly, or was that just my imagination?

Until there was a groan, and the figure rolled sideways and looked up. 

Marianne.

Perhaps it was wrong.

“I’m sorry.  I tried to warn you.  You obviously didn’t get the subtext.”

Of course, it had been in the back of my mind, amongst all the other jumbled and mixed messages I’d received and ignored.  She had tried to warn me in some peculiar manner that took too long for me to understand.

“Not that clever, I’m afraid.  It’s the bane of people who are clever in their field of study and totally stupid when it comes to people.”

“Maybe, maybe not.  Did you send the level one protocol?”

Who was she?  How did she know about that?

“Yes.  Pounding on the door like that, and ignoring my request…”

“Good.  It won’t be long now.”

“What?”

“Rest.  No more talking.”

Who was this person?  How did she know so much about me and or anything to do with me?  I thought everything about me and the project I was working on was top secret.

I had questions, but she seemed insistent.

I dozed off, waking to the sound of three explosions, or perhaps something else.  There were muffled voices overhead, indistinct.

Marianne had moved slightly, hearing them too.

Them silence.

A few minutes later, there was the sound of a key in a lock, then the careful turning of the door know, followed by two people covered head to foot bursting in and ready to shoot anything that moved.

One checked the room now flooded in light, then said, “Clear.”

Two paramedics came in, one to me, the other to Marianne.  She had been bound, the ties were cut, and she was dragged to her feet, and the first two in the room took her away.  I managed to sit up and answer a few questions.  Fuzzy but not disoriented.  There had been time for the drugs to wear off.

Then my boss came in, a scowl on her face, but then she always had a scowl.

The paramedic reported, “Drugged but no physical harm.”

“Good.  Give us the room.”

He nodded, packed the kit bag and left.

She glared at me.  “Caught the people trying to crack your safe.  Caught the kidnappers.  Still haven’t got who organised it, but he or she knows we’re onto them now.”

“You knew?”

“We had an inkling, nothing positive until Marianne was approached.”

“She is one of your people?”

“Someone we could trust, yes.  Left to your own devices, you would have been a prime honey trap target.  And it was a two birds with one stone operation.  You get a girlfriend, and we find who’s been leaking information in the department.  Getting a branch of a foreign intelligence group was a bonus.”

I felt like I was the biggest prize idiot on the planet.

She must have seen my look of bitter disappointment.

“Don’t worry.  She likes you, Phillip, though I can’t imagine why.  I’ve assigned her as your bodyguard for the duration of the project.  Just a heads up, she is an excellent shot, and our top agent in field interrogations.  I would try not to piss her off.  You’re lucky I’m not sending you back to training.  Now, off you go.”

She was waiting for me at the front door.

“Don’t look so downcast.  You could have got my sister.  I’m the nice one.”

I just shook my head.  Why hadn’t I taken that six-month assignment in Antarctica?

©  Charles Heath  2025

Writing a book in 365 days – 308

Day 308

Writing exercise

By the time I learned what she was saying, it was too late.

It was difficult to remember when the first signs of our relationship, if it could be called that, had started to disintegrate.

Thinking about it, there was no clear point, just a series of random events that most people would simply write off as ‘well, it just wasn’t going to work’.

Which was odd because until that indefinable moment in time, it had.

Perhaps it was the impossible odds.

Perhaps it was the way we met.

Perhaps the randomness wasn’t random at all.

Because when you switched perspectives and took the view that the whole thing had been a set-up from start to finish, it all made sense.

In a very disturbing way.

The insistent knocking on my door was not the best start to the day.  It had been a late night, and little too much to eat and drink and in a semi intoxicated state, it was hard to resist the temptation of letting Marianne stay.

Protocol dictated that it could not happen.

It was a long story, but having the secrets I had, even with the impregnable safe, no one was allowed to stay beyond a certain hour of the night.

Any other night when I didn’t have classified documents, not a problem.

I groaned, rolled over, and then it started again.

I climbed out and shook off the drowsiness, and headed for the door.  A look at the screen showed it was Marianne back, and agitated.

It was a state I’d never seen her in before.

Warning bells on the back of my head were going off.  Training told me that this could be a problem and that she had been compromised simply by being associated with me.

Some people knew who I really was, what my work was, and if that was the case, this was a level one problem

I put the code into my phone and sent it.

Just in case.

Then I opened the door.  “Marianne.”

“Phillip.  I need to see you?”

“You saw me last night and early this morning.  I’m neither up nor presentable.”

“Seriously?”

“We have had this discussion.  There are times when I am on call and I cannot have other people in the place.”

I had given her the standards spiel on the nature of my work and the confidentiality that surrounded it, and she had always understood.

Except this was beginning to be one of those instances of her subtly changing.

“Confidential information.  Yes.  But you are not in conversation with anyone.”

“I could be at any minute.  I can’t be seen shooing you out.  I would be severely reprimanded, even fired if it came to that.  Can it wait another hour or two?  I’m sorry.  I have to follow protocol.”

“Even at the possible expense of your relationships with others?”

I’d explained this too.  There was no choice, no matter what I felt.  I’d made a commitment.

“At this point in time, unfortunately, yes.”

I didn’t want to go down this path, but it seemed like the culmination of drifting apart.

She shrugged.  “I’m sorry then.”

I felt rather than heard a movement behind me, and then nothing. 

When I woke head hurt. 

Very badly.

While the details were fuzzy, I knew I had been hit from behind, that Marianne had diverted my attention while an accomplice had gained entry to my flat from the rear.

It was the building’s one weak spot.

Now I was in a dark space, smelling of damp and age, and I was lying on a bed of stacked newspapers, unbound.  Neither did I have a gag, so it was somewhere no one would ever hear me yell for help.

It didn’t stop me, but all there was in response was an echo.

If my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, then they could be working or not.  There was always light coming from somewhere, but not right at the moment.

That being the case, I had no idea how big the room was or whether anyone else was in it with me.  Or who it was that had put me, other than one unassailable fact; Marianne had helped them.

One fact of what could be many that I had overlooked, something that all people in the first throes of a relationship tended to do, unless of course you were suspicious of everyone and everything.

I should have been, but I naively wanted to believe in her.  Echoing in my head were those fateful words, If it’s too good to be true, it generally isn’t.

I cast my mind back to when I first met Marianne and realised it was too good to be true.  The chances of us being in the same place at the same time…

And then, cursing myself for being a creature of habit, for ignoring basic rules, and I had only myself to blame.

Was anything we had real?

“I’m sorry.” 

Marianne’s words ran over and over in my head.

Why would she say that?  It was certainly in a contrite tone, like she had meant it, which was odd if she was part of the kidnap team.

I opened my eyes and found that there was a crack in the ceiling where light was trying to get through, and that it was turning the inky blackness into an opaque blur.

There were no distinguishable objects, but it whiled away the time trying to identify them.  A sofa, a table, a chair, and what looked like a person, though it could be a mannequin.

It could be anything.

Until it moved slightly, or was that just my imagination?

Until there was a groan, and the figure rolled sideways and looked up. 

Marianne.

Perhaps it was wrong.

“I’m sorry.  I tried to warn you.  You obviously didn’t get the subtext.”

Of course, it had been in the back of my mind, amongst all the other jumbled and mixed messages I’d received and ignored.  She had tried to warn me in some peculiar manner that took too long for me to understand.

“Not that clever, I’m afraid.  It’s the bane of people who are clever in their field of study and totally stupid when it comes to people.”

“Maybe, maybe not.  Did you send the level one protocol?”

Who was she?  How did she know about that?

“Yes.  Pounding on the door like that, and ignoring my request…”

“Good.  It won’t be long now.”

“What?”

“Rest.  No more talking.”

Who was this person?  How did she know so much about me and or anything to do with me?  I thought everything about me and the project I was working on was top secret.

I had questions, but she seemed insistent.

I dozed off, waking to the sound of three explosions, or perhaps something else.  There were muffled voices overhead, indistinct.

Marianne had moved slightly, hearing them too.

Them silence.

A few minutes later, there was the sound of a key in a lock, then the careful turning of the door know, followed by two people covered head to foot bursting in and ready to shoot anything that moved.

One checked the room now flooded in light, then said, “Clear.”

Two paramedics came in, one to me, the other to Marianne.  She had been bound, the ties were cut, and she was dragged to her feet, and the first two in the room took her away.  I managed to sit up and answer a few questions.  Fuzzy but not disoriented.  There had been time for the drugs to wear off.

Then my boss came in, a scowl on her face, but then she always had a scowl.

The paramedic reported, “Drugged but no physical harm.”

“Good.  Give us the room.”

He nodded, packed the kit bag and left.

She glared at me.  “Caught the people trying to crack your safe.  Caught the kidnappers.  Still haven’t got who organised it, but he or she knows we’re onto them now.”

“You knew?”

“We had an inkling, nothing positive until Marianne was approached.”

“She is one of your people?”

“Someone we could trust, yes.  Left to your own devices, you would have been a prime honey trap target.  And it was a two birds with one stone operation.  You get a girlfriend, and we find who’s been leaking information in the department.  Getting a branch of a foreign intelligence group was a bonus.”

I felt like I was the biggest prize idiot on the planet.

She must have seen my look of bitter disappointment.

“Don’t worry.  She likes you, Phillip, though I can’t imagine why.  I’ve assigned her as your bodyguard for the duration of the project.  Just a heads up, she is an excellent shot, and our top agent in field interrogations.  I would try not to piss her off.  You’re lucky I’m not sending you back to training.  Now, off you go.”

She was waiting for me at the front door.

“Don’t look so downcast.  You could have got my sister.  I’m the nice one.”

I just shook my head.  Why hadn’t I taken that six-month assignment in Antarctica?

©  Charles Heath  2025

Writing a book in 365 days – 307

Day 307

What can be explained is not poetry

The Unexplainable Truth: Why Yeats Said ‘What Can Be Explained Is Not Poetry’

W.B. Yeats, the towering figure of Irish literature and a Nobel laureate, often seemed to speak in riddles that contained profound universal truths. One such truth, delivered not from a stage but in a quiet moment with his son, Michael, cuts directly to the soul of creativity:

“What can be explained is not poetry.”

This deceptively simple statement is not merely a critique of literary analysis; it is a philosophy of art, a defence of mystery, and a guide for how we must approach the most cherished parts of our existence.

If poetry is built from words—the very tools of explanation—how can the final product simultaneously resist understanding? The answer lies in the fundamental difference between information and resonance.


1. The Reductionist Trap: Explanation as Destruction

When Yeats dismisses explanation, he is pushing back against the modern impulse to dissect, categorise, and summarise. Explanation seeks clarity, certainty, and a definitive endpoint. It wants to give you the meaning in a neat bullet point.

But for the poet, this act of definition is fatal.

Think of a poem like Yeats’s own “The Second Coming.” If you were asked to explain it, you might say: “It is about the breakdown of societal order, historical cycles, and the fear of a looming, savage future.” This is factually correct. But by the time you have finished this explanation, the poem itself—the terrifying rhythm, the shocking image of the “blood-dimmed tide,” the sheer visceral dread of the “rough beast, its hour come round at last”—has completely evaporated.

The Elements That Resist Explanation:

  • Rhythm and Sound: Poetry operates on the level of music. You can explain the notes on a score, but you cannot explain the feeling of the music’s vibration in your chest.
  • Ambiguity: A great poem holds multiple, often contradictory, truths simultaneously. Explanation forces a choice, killing the rich tension that gives the poem its power.
  • The Ineffable: Poetry deals in the realm of the subconscious, the spiritual, and the deeply felt human condition—areas that words can only point toward, never fully capture.

As the great poet Archibald MacLeish wrote, “A poem should not mean / But be.” If you can swap a poem for a paragraph of summarised meaning without losing anything vital, it was never truly poetry to begin with.


2. The Domain of True Art: Mystery and Aura

If explanation is the enemy, what elevates language into poetry? It is the successful creation of Aura—that inexplicable shimmer of authenticity and power surrounding a work of art.

Poetry, painting, and music—when successful—establish an immediate, emotional connection that bypasses the logical mind. They don’t give us facts; they provide us with an experience of being human.

A true poem resonates because it touches a nerve we didn’t know existed. It uses familiar words in unfamiliar arrangements that create a shock of recognition: Ah, yes, I have felt that thing, though I lacked the words for it.

This resonance cannot be taught, explained, or quantified. It is a mystery that the poet labors to create, and a mystery the reader must consent to receive. The poem’s job is to compel you to stop asking why and simply start feeling.

Art as a Sacred Language

For Yeats, an artist and a mystic, poetry was a sacred endeavour that tapped into universal symbols and mythic memory. This is why his poems are so dense with swans, spirals, gyres, and masks. These are not symbols to be easily decoded; they are portals meant to shift the reader’s consciousness.

To demand an explanation of a spiritual experience is to completely misunderstand the nature of the sacred. Yeats viewed poetry in the same light.


3. Beyond the Poem: Embracing the Unexplained Life

Yeats’s dictum is not just a lesson for the classroom; it is a profound commentary on how we live. The things we value most highly in life are often the things that defy bullet points and clear definitions.

If we can fully explain something, we often lose our sense of wonder for it. The minute we treat life as a logical equation, we forfeit the magic.

Love, Grief, and Beauty

Consider the deepest human experiences:

  1. Love: Can you truly explain why you love a particular person? You can list their qualities (kindness, intelligence), but those are merely the ingredients. The love itself—the specific, irrational, overwhelming devotion—is the chemical reaction that cannot be explained. If it could, it would be a transaction, not love.
  2. Beauty: Why is a specific sunset breathtaking? You can explain the atmospheric condition, the refraction of light, and the Rayleigh scattering effect. But none of that science touches the awe you feel when watching the sky turn orange.
  3. Grief: Grief is not a set of stages to be rationally completed; it is a primal force that washes over you. No explanation can contain the depth of loss.

These are the poetic aspects of life. They are what make living rich, maddening, and profoundly meaningful. They require us to accept ambiguity and to tolerate the fact that the most important truths lie just beyond the reach of language.


The Call to Wonder

Yeats’s quiet lesson to his son remains a powerful challenge to us today: In an age where every phenomenon is instantly broken down by algorithms and summarised in 280 characters, are we losing our capacity for wonder?

If we insist on explaining everything, we risk reducing the rich tapestry of existence to a dry instruction manual.

True poetry—in literature and in life—requires us to put down the defining pencil, step away from the summary, and simply stand in the presence of the powerful, beautiful, bewildering thing that is.

The challenge of the reader, the lover, and the appreciative human being is to honour the mystery that remains when all the explanations have failed.

What truths in your life have you accepted as unexplainable? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

Writing a book in 365 days – 307

Day 307

What can be explained is not poetry

The Unexplainable Truth: Why Yeats Said ‘What Can Be Explained Is Not Poetry’

W.B. Yeats, the towering figure of Irish literature and a Nobel laureate, often seemed to speak in riddles that contained profound universal truths. One such truth, delivered not from a stage but in a quiet moment with his son, Michael, cuts directly to the soul of creativity:

“What can be explained is not poetry.”

This deceptively simple statement is not merely a critique of literary analysis; it is a philosophy of art, a defence of mystery, and a guide for how we must approach the most cherished parts of our existence.

If poetry is built from words—the very tools of explanation—how can the final product simultaneously resist understanding? The answer lies in the fundamental difference between information and resonance.


1. The Reductionist Trap: Explanation as Destruction

When Yeats dismisses explanation, he is pushing back against the modern impulse to dissect, categorise, and summarise. Explanation seeks clarity, certainty, and a definitive endpoint. It wants to give you the meaning in a neat bullet point.

But for the poet, this act of definition is fatal.

Think of a poem like Yeats’s own “The Second Coming.” If you were asked to explain it, you might say: “It is about the breakdown of societal order, historical cycles, and the fear of a looming, savage future.” This is factually correct. But by the time you have finished this explanation, the poem itself—the terrifying rhythm, the shocking image of the “blood-dimmed tide,” the sheer visceral dread of the “rough beast, its hour come round at last”—has completely evaporated.

The Elements That Resist Explanation:

  • Rhythm and Sound: Poetry operates on the level of music. You can explain the notes on a score, but you cannot explain the feeling of the music’s vibration in your chest.
  • Ambiguity: A great poem holds multiple, often contradictory, truths simultaneously. Explanation forces a choice, killing the rich tension that gives the poem its power.
  • The Ineffable: Poetry deals in the realm of the subconscious, the spiritual, and the deeply felt human condition—areas that words can only point toward, never fully capture.

As the great poet Archibald MacLeish wrote, “A poem should not mean / But be.” If you can swap a poem for a paragraph of summarised meaning without losing anything vital, it was never truly poetry to begin with.


2. The Domain of True Art: Mystery and Aura

If explanation is the enemy, what elevates language into poetry? It is the successful creation of Aura—that inexplicable shimmer of authenticity and power surrounding a work of art.

Poetry, painting, and music—when successful—establish an immediate, emotional connection that bypasses the logical mind. They don’t give us facts; they provide us with an experience of being human.

A true poem resonates because it touches a nerve we didn’t know existed. It uses familiar words in unfamiliar arrangements that create a shock of recognition: Ah, yes, I have felt that thing, though I lacked the words for it.

This resonance cannot be taught, explained, or quantified. It is a mystery that the poet labors to create, and a mystery the reader must consent to receive. The poem’s job is to compel you to stop asking why and simply start feeling.

Art as a Sacred Language

For Yeats, an artist and a mystic, poetry was a sacred endeavour that tapped into universal symbols and mythic memory. This is why his poems are so dense with swans, spirals, gyres, and masks. These are not symbols to be easily decoded; they are portals meant to shift the reader’s consciousness.

To demand an explanation of a spiritual experience is to completely misunderstand the nature of the sacred. Yeats viewed poetry in the same light.


3. Beyond the Poem: Embracing the Unexplained Life

Yeats’s dictum is not just a lesson for the classroom; it is a profound commentary on how we live. The things we value most highly in life are often the things that defy bullet points and clear definitions.

If we can fully explain something, we often lose our sense of wonder for it. The minute we treat life as a logical equation, we forfeit the magic.

Love, Grief, and Beauty

Consider the deepest human experiences:

  1. Love: Can you truly explain why you love a particular person? You can list their qualities (kindness, intelligence), but those are merely the ingredients. The love itself—the specific, irrational, overwhelming devotion—is the chemical reaction that cannot be explained. If it could, it would be a transaction, not love.
  2. Beauty: Why is a specific sunset breathtaking? You can explain the atmospheric condition, the refraction of light, and the Rayleigh scattering effect. But none of that science touches the awe you feel when watching the sky turn orange.
  3. Grief: Grief is not a set of stages to be rationally completed; it is a primal force that washes over you. No explanation can contain the depth of loss.

These are the poetic aspects of life. They are what make living rich, maddening, and profoundly meaningful. They require us to accept ambiguity and to tolerate the fact that the most important truths lie just beyond the reach of language.


The Call to Wonder

Yeats’s quiet lesson to his son remains a powerful challenge to us today: In an age where every phenomenon is instantly broken down by algorithms and summarised in 280 characters, are we losing our capacity for wonder?

If we insist on explaining everything, we risk reducing the rich tapestry of existence to a dry instruction manual.

True poetry—in literature and in life—requires us to put down the defining pencil, step away from the summary, and simply stand in the presence of the powerful, beautiful, bewildering thing that is.

The challenge of the reader, the lover, and the appreciative human being is to honour the mystery that remains when all the explanations have failed.

What truths in your life have you accepted as unexplainable? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

Writing a book in 365 days – My Story 46

More about my story – And more on the subject of Beta readers!

The Beta Reader Gauntlet: Navigating Feedback That Feels Like a Punch to the Gut

Here’s the thing.

Every writer knows this quiet dread, this cold sweat moment that hits long before the manuscript is even finished: What if the beta readers find a fundamental flaw in the story? What if the very foundations you’ve painstakingly laid turn out to be cracked, crumbling, or just plain wonky?

It’s a terrifying thought, but let’s be honest with ourselves: it’s a very real possibility.

The Unseen Chaos of Creation

When you’re deep in the trenches of writing, especially over an extended period, the process itself can create inconsistencies. We’ve all been there:

  • Disjointed Aspects: Plot threads we thought we’d tied up suddenly unravel, or new ones appear from nowhere, leaving logical gaps.
  • Character Trait Drift: Isabel started as a shy introvert, but by chapter 15, she’s leading the charge and cracking jokes. Did she have an arc, or did we just forget her initial persona?
  • Name Changes & Forgotten Details: That minor character, Officer Jenkins, who mysteriously became Sergeant Miller a few chapters later. Or the key plot point about a missing locket, which was actually a ring earlier in the draft.
  • Lost Flow: Life happens. We write in bursts, in fragments, around jobs and families. The initial spark, the driving rhythm of the narrative, can get fragmented, leaving jarring transitions or a meandering pace.

These internal shifts, often invisible to our own eyes because we’re so close to the material, are precisely what beta readers are designed to unearth. And boy, can that unearthing feel brutal.

The Character Conundrum: Loved vs. Loathed

Then there’s the beloved protagonist. You’ve poured your heart and soul into them. They’re complex, relatable, flawed – everything a great character should be. You send your manuscript out, excited for feedback, only to get this:

“I absolutely adore Elara! She’s so resilient and genuine.” …followed by… “Honestly, Elara was pretty annoying. I found her whiny and self-absorbed.”

Is there something wrong with your character? Is the conflicting feedback a sign of a fundamental flaw, or simply a matter of taste? This is where the true beta reader dilemma kicks in.

It’s tempting to panic, to immediately question everything you thought you knew about your protagonist. But before you rewrite their entire personality, let’s unpack this.

The Truth About Character Reception: No character, no matter how perfectly crafted, will be universally loved. Some of the most iconic characters in literature and film are divisive for a reason – their complexity sparks strong opinions. The goal isn’t universal adoration; it’s usually about creating a character who resonates meaningfully with your intended audience, or who effectively serves their role in the story.

Ask Deeper Questions:

  • Why did they find them annoying/likable? Is the “annoying” feedback due to genuine inconsistency or a lack of motivation for their actions? Or is it because the character embodies traits that simply rub that particular reader the wrong way (which might be the point of the character)?
  • Does the character achieve their intended purpose? If your character is meant to be a bit abrasive at first, but grows, then initial annoyance might not be a flaw. If they’re meant to be inspiring, and everyone finds them annoying, that’s a problem.
  • Is there a pattern? If one person finds them annoying and ten others love them, perhaps it’s an outlier opinion. If six out of ten find them annoying, it’s time to investigate further.

The Million-Dollar Question: At What Point Do You Consider Changes?

This is the ultimate balancing act of the beta reader process. You can’t implement every single suggestion, or your story will become a disjointed Frankenstein’s monster. But you also can’t dismiss everything.

Here’s a framework for deciding when to make changes:

  1. Look for Patterns, Not Just Individual Comments: If multiple beta readers (especially those with diverse reading tastes) highlight the same plot hole, character inconsistency, confusing timeline, or pacing issue, pay attention. This is a flashing red light. A single comment might be an anomaly; a pattern is a problem.
  2. Does It Resonate with Your Gut? Often, when a beta reader points out a flaw, there’s a quiet voice in the back of your head that says, “Yeah, I kind of knew that.” Trust that feeling. If the feedback confirms a nagging doubt you already had, it’s likely a change worth making.
  3. Distinguish Between “Preference” and “Problem”:
    • Preference: “I wish the villain had a different motivation,” or “I prefer faster pacing.” These are subjective. Consider them, but don’t feel obligated to change unless they align with a broader pattern or your own vision.
    • Problem: “I didn’t understand why the character did X, it felt out of character,” or “The plot felt like it stopped completely in the middle section.” These indicate a structural or logical issue that needs addressing.
  4. Consider the Scope:
    • Fundamental Flaws: Issues with plot, character arc, world-building logic, or core themes require significant attention. These are the “punch to the gut” feedbacks that, while painful, are vital to fix. They often require rewriting entire sections.
    • Mid-Level Issues: Pacing problems, confusing descriptions, minor character inconsistencies. These might require trimming, expanding, or clearer exposition.
    • Minor Edits: Typos, grammatical errors, word choices. These are easily fixable during the copyediting stage.
  5. Give Yourself Time: Don’t react immediately. Read all the feedback, then walk away for a few days (or even a week). Let your emotions settle. When you return, you’ll be able to assess the comments more objectively.

The beta reader process is less about them finding flaws and more about them helping you find the strongest version of your story. It’s a crucible, yes, but one that hones your craft and your manuscript. Embrace the chaos, learn from the feedback, and have the courage to make the changes that will truly elevate your narrative. Your stronger story (and thicker skin) will thank you for it.

Writing a book in 365 days – My Story 46

More about my story – And more on the subject of Beta readers!

The Beta Reader Gauntlet: Navigating Feedback That Feels Like a Punch to the Gut

Here’s the thing.

Every writer knows this quiet dread, this cold sweat moment that hits long before the manuscript is even finished: What if the beta readers find a fundamental flaw in the story? What if the very foundations you’ve painstakingly laid turn out to be cracked, crumbling, or just plain wonky?

It’s a terrifying thought, but let’s be honest with ourselves: it’s a very real possibility.

The Unseen Chaos of Creation

When you’re deep in the trenches of writing, especially over an extended period, the process itself can create inconsistencies. We’ve all been there:

  • Disjointed Aspects: Plot threads we thought we’d tied up suddenly unravel, or new ones appear from nowhere, leaving logical gaps.
  • Character Trait Drift: Isabel started as a shy introvert, but by chapter 15, she’s leading the charge and cracking jokes. Did she have an arc, or did we just forget her initial persona?
  • Name Changes & Forgotten Details: That minor character, Officer Jenkins, who mysteriously became Sergeant Miller a few chapters later. Or the key plot point about a missing locket, which was actually a ring earlier in the draft.
  • Lost Flow: Life happens. We write in bursts, in fragments, around jobs and families. The initial spark, the driving rhythm of the narrative, can get fragmented, leaving jarring transitions or a meandering pace.

These internal shifts, often invisible to our own eyes because we’re so close to the material, are precisely what beta readers are designed to unearth. And boy, can that unearthing feel brutal.

The Character Conundrum: Loved vs. Loathed

Then there’s the beloved protagonist. You’ve poured your heart and soul into them. They’re complex, relatable, flawed – everything a great character should be. You send your manuscript out, excited for feedback, only to get this:

“I absolutely adore Elara! She’s so resilient and genuine.” …followed by… “Honestly, Elara was pretty annoying. I found her whiny and self-absorbed.”

Is there something wrong with your character? Is the conflicting feedback a sign of a fundamental flaw, or simply a matter of taste? This is where the true beta reader dilemma kicks in.

It’s tempting to panic, to immediately question everything you thought you knew about your protagonist. But before you rewrite their entire personality, let’s unpack this.

The Truth About Character Reception: No character, no matter how perfectly crafted, will be universally loved. Some of the most iconic characters in literature and film are divisive for a reason – their complexity sparks strong opinions. The goal isn’t universal adoration; it’s usually about creating a character who resonates meaningfully with your intended audience, or who effectively serves their role in the story.

Ask Deeper Questions:

  • Why did they find them annoying/likable? Is the “annoying” feedback due to genuine inconsistency or a lack of motivation for their actions? Or is it because the character embodies traits that simply rub that particular reader the wrong way (which might be the point of the character)?
  • Does the character achieve their intended purpose? If your character is meant to be a bit abrasive at first, but grows, then initial annoyance might not be a flaw. If they’re meant to be inspiring, and everyone finds them annoying, that’s a problem.
  • Is there a pattern? If one person finds them annoying and ten others love them, perhaps it’s an outlier opinion. If six out of ten find them annoying, it’s time to investigate further.

The Million-Dollar Question: At What Point Do You Consider Changes?

This is the ultimate balancing act of the beta reader process. You can’t implement every single suggestion, or your story will become a disjointed Frankenstein’s monster. But you also can’t dismiss everything.

Here’s a framework for deciding when to make changes:

  1. Look for Patterns, Not Just Individual Comments: If multiple beta readers (especially those with diverse reading tastes) highlight the same plot hole, character inconsistency, confusing timeline, or pacing issue, pay attention. This is a flashing red light. A single comment might be an anomaly; a pattern is a problem.
  2. Does It Resonate with Your Gut? Often, when a beta reader points out a flaw, there’s a quiet voice in the back of your head that says, “Yeah, I kind of knew that.” Trust that feeling. If the feedback confirms a nagging doubt you already had, it’s likely a change worth making.
  3. Distinguish Between “Preference” and “Problem”:
    • Preference: “I wish the villain had a different motivation,” or “I prefer faster pacing.” These are subjective. Consider them, but don’t feel obligated to change unless they align with a broader pattern or your own vision.
    • Problem: “I didn’t understand why the character did X, it felt out of character,” or “The plot felt like it stopped completely in the middle section.” These indicate a structural or logical issue that needs addressing.
  4. Consider the Scope:
    • Fundamental Flaws: Issues with plot, character arc, world-building logic, or core themes require significant attention. These are the “punch to the gut” feedbacks that, while painful, are vital to fix. They often require rewriting entire sections.
    • Mid-Level Issues: Pacing problems, confusing descriptions, minor character inconsistencies. These might require trimming, expanding, or clearer exposition.
    • Minor Edits: Typos, grammatical errors, word choices. These are easily fixable during the copyediting stage.
  5. Give Yourself Time: Don’t react immediately. Read all the feedback, then walk away for a few days (or even a week). Let your emotions settle. When you return, you’ll be able to assess the comments more objectively.

The beta reader process is less about them finding flaws and more about them helping you find the strongest version of your story. It’s a crucible, yes, but one that hones your craft and your manuscript. Embrace the chaos, learn from the feedback, and have the courage to make the changes that will truly elevate your narrative. Your stronger story (and thicker skin) will thank you for it.

Writing a book in 365 days – 304

Day 304

What is ‘style’

What Is Style, Anyway? A Deep Dive into Its Many Faces

You hear the word “style” thrown around everywhere. “Oh, she has great style!” “That’s not really my style.” “We need to adopt a new brand style.” But have you ever stopped to consider just how multifaceted and powerful this seemingly simple concept truly is?

From the clothes we wear to the way we craft a sentence, style is an invisible force shaping perception, conveying meaning, and defining identity. Let’s peel back the layers and explore the various aspects that make up the rich tapestry of “style.”

1. Your Signature: Personal Style

This is perhaps the most intimate and immediately recognizable form of style. Your personal style is your unique fingerprint on the world – the way you speak, dress, decorate your home, or even how you approach a problem.

In writing, your personal style is your distinctive voice. It’s the rhythm of your prose, your preferred vocabulary, your unique way of structuring sentences, and the characteristic tone you adopt. It’s what makes a reader say, “Ah, I can tell this is by [Your Name]!” early on in a piece. It’s developed over time, shaped by your experiences, personality, and influences, and it’s what makes your work authentically yours. Whether it’s a dry wit, a poignant lyricism, or a straightforward reportage, your personal style is your artistic DNA.

2. The Blueprint: Categorical & Aesthetic Styles

Beyond the individual, style often manifests in broader categories or aesthetic movements. These are frameworks that have evolved over time, often tied to specific historical periods, philosophies, or artistic intentions.

Think about architecture: you immediately picture different elements for Gothic (soaring arches, intricate details, dramatic light) versus Minimalist (clean lines, functional forms, understated elegance).

In literature, these categorical styles define genres and movements:

  • Minimalist Prose: Characterised by sparse language, short sentences, and a focus on showing rather than telling. It strips away excess to convey essential meaning.
  • Gothic Style: Evokes a sense of dread, mystery, and romanticism, often featuring dark settings, supernatural elements, and heightened emotions.
  • Free Verse: A poetic style that disregards traditional meter and rhyme schemes, allowing the poet to create their own rhythm and structure, often mimicking natural speech patterns.
  • Stream of Consciousness: A narrative style that attempts to depict the multitudinous thoughts and feelings that pass through the mind.

These styles provide a common language and a set of shared conventions that allow artists and audiences to connect within a recognised context. They are not rigid cages but rather rich traditions from which to draw inspiration or, indeed, to deliberately diverge.

3. The Adaptable Garment: Contextual & Required Style

Sometimes, style isn’t about personal expression or aesthetic preference; it’s about purpose and audience. This is where contextual and required style comes into play – the practical application of tailoring your approach to fit a specific need.

  • Publisher Guidelines: If you’re submitting a manuscript, adhering to publisher style guides (e.g., APA, MLA, Chicago, or an in-house guide) is non-negotiable. This dictates everything from formatting and citation methods to hyphenation rules and preferred spellings. It ensures consistency, clarity, and professionalism.
  • Audience-Specific Writing: A story written for a children’s magazine will have a vastly different style than an academic paper or a pulp fiction novel. The vocabulary, sentence structure, themes, and overall tone must be carefully calibrated to resonate with the intended readers. You wouldn’t use complex metaphors for toddlers, nor overly simplistic language for a literary journal.
  • Platform & Medium Specifics: Articles for a fast-paced online news site demand punchy headlines and concise paragraphs, while a feature in a glossy print magazine might allow for more expansive prose and evocative imagery. Each medium has its own stylistic conventions that best serve its purpose and audience.
  • Brand Voice: Businesses and organisations develop a “brand style” or “voice” to ensure all their communications are consistent and reflect their identity, whether it’s formal and authoritative or playful and approachable.

This aspect of style is less about artistic freedom and more about effective communication. It’s the mark of a skilled practitioner who understands how to adapt their craft to meet external demands without necessarily sacrificing their core personal style. It’s about being versatile enough to wear many hats.

The Art of Balancing Act

Ultimately, mastering style involves a fascinating dance between these three aspects. How do you maintain your unique personal voice while writing in a minimalist style for a publisher with strict guidelines aimed at a niche audience?

The answer lies in understanding that style is not monolithic but a dynamic interplay. Your personal style forms the foundation; categorical styles offer a palette of expressive tools; and contextual styles provide the framework for effective delivery.

Embrace the journey of discovering your own unique style, explore the vast landscapes of established aesthetics, and cultivate the wisdom to adapt your approach when the situation demands it. For understanding “style” in all its forms, you unlock a powerful key to self-expression, communication, and connection.

Writing a book in 365 days – 304

Day 304

What is ‘style’

What Is Style, Anyway? A Deep Dive into Its Many Faces

You hear the word “style” thrown around everywhere. “Oh, she has great style!” “That’s not really my style.” “We need to adopt a new brand style.” But have you ever stopped to consider just how multifaceted and powerful this seemingly simple concept truly is?

From the clothes we wear to the way we craft a sentence, style is an invisible force shaping perception, conveying meaning, and defining identity. Let’s peel back the layers and explore the various aspects that make up the rich tapestry of “style.”

1. Your Signature: Personal Style

This is perhaps the most intimate and immediately recognizable form of style. Your personal style is your unique fingerprint on the world – the way you speak, dress, decorate your home, or even how you approach a problem.

In writing, your personal style is your distinctive voice. It’s the rhythm of your prose, your preferred vocabulary, your unique way of structuring sentences, and the characteristic tone you adopt. It’s what makes a reader say, “Ah, I can tell this is by [Your Name]!” early on in a piece. It’s developed over time, shaped by your experiences, personality, and influences, and it’s what makes your work authentically yours. Whether it’s a dry wit, a poignant lyricism, or a straightforward reportage, your personal style is your artistic DNA.

2. The Blueprint: Categorical & Aesthetic Styles

Beyond the individual, style often manifests in broader categories or aesthetic movements. These are frameworks that have evolved over time, often tied to specific historical periods, philosophies, or artistic intentions.

Think about architecture: you immediately picture different elements for Gothic (soaring arches, intricate details, dramatic light) versus Minimalist (clean lines, functional forms, understated elegance).

In literature, these categorical styles define genres and movements:

  • Minimalist Prose: Characterised by sparse language, short sentences, and a focus on showing rather than telling. It strips away excess to convey essential meaning.
  • Gothic Style: Evokes a sense of dread, mystery, and romanticism, often featuring dark settings, supernatural elements, and heightened emotions.
  • Free Verse: A poetic style that disregards traditional meter and rhyme schemes, allowing the poet to create their own rhythm and structure, often mimicking natural speech patterns.
  • Stream of Consciousness: A narrative style that attempts to depict the multitudinous thoughts and feelings that pass through the mind.

These styles provide a common language and a set of shared conventions that allow artists and audiences to connect within a recognised context. They are not rigid cages but rather rich traditions from which to draw inspiration or, indeed, to deliberately diverge.

3. The Adaptable Garment: Contextual & Required Style

Sometimes, style isn’t about personal expression or aesthetic preference; it’s about purpose and audience. This is where contextual and required style comes into play – the practical application of tailoring your approach to fit a specific need.

  • Publisher Guidelines: If you’re submitting a manuscript, adhering to publisher style guides (e.g., APA, MLA, Chicago, or an in-house guide) is non-negotiable. This dictates everything from formatting and citation methods to hyphenation rules and preferred spellings. It ensures consistency, clarity, and professionalism.
  • Audience-Specific Writing: A story written for a children’s magazine will have a vastly different style than an academic paper or a pulp fiction novel. The vocabulary, sentence structure, themes, and overall tone must be carefully calibrated to resonate with the intended readers. You wouldn’t use complex metaphors for toddlers, nor overly simplistic language for a literary journal.
  • Platform & Medium Specifics: Articles for a fast-paced online news site demand punchy headlines and concise paragraphs, while a feature in a glossy print magazine might allow for more expansive prose and evocative imagery. Each medium has its own stylistic conventions that best serve its purpose and audience.
  • Brand Voice: Businesses and organisations develop a “brand style” or “voice” to ensure all their communications are consistent and reflect their identity, whether it’s formal and authoritative or playful and approachable.

This aspect of style is less about artistic freedom and more about effective communication. It’s the mark of a skilled practitioner who understands how to adapt their craft to meet external demands without necessarily sacrificing their core personal style. It’s about being versatile enough to wear many hats.

The Art of Balancing Act

Ultimately, mastering style involves a fascinating dance between these three aspects. How do you maintain your unique personal voice while writing in a minimalist style for a publisher with strict guidelines aimed at a niche audience?

The answer lies in understanding that style is not monolithic but a dynamic interplay. Your personal style forms the foundation; categorical styles offer a palette of expressive tools; and contextual styles provide the framework for effective delivery.

Embrace the journey of discovering your own unique style, explore the vast landscapes of established aesthetics, and cultivate the wisdom to adapt your approach when the situation demands it. For understanding “style” in all its forms, you unlock a powerful key to self-expression, communication, and connection.

Writing a book in 365 days – 303

Day 303

Writing what we think

The Unfiltered Mind: Should We Always Write What We Think, Right Now?

We’ve all been there: a thought flares up, an emotion surges, an opinion crystallises in our minds, and the immediate urge is to put it into words. Whether it’s a social media post, a blog entry, or even just an email, the impulse to share what’s on our minds at that very moment can be incredibly powerful.

But should we always succumb to this impulse? And should we worry that our opinions might change, making our current unfiltered thoughts seem inconsistent or even naive in the future? Let’s dive into the fascinating tightrope walk between immediate expression and thoughtful deliberation.

The Immediate Appeal: Pros of Writing What’s On Your Mind Right Now

There’s a lot to be said for capturing the raw, unfiltered essence of your current thoughts and feelings:

  1. Authenticity and Relatability: When you write from the heart, in the moment, it often resonates deeply with others. It’s raw, it’s real, and it allows readers to connect with your humanity, vulnerabilities, and genuine excitement or frustration.
  2. Capturing a Fleeting Moment: Our perspectives are dynamic. Writing what’s on your mind right now captures a snapshot of a specific time, place, and emotional state. This can be invaluable for creative writing, journaling, or even historical documentation of your own growth.
  3. Catharsis and Clarity: For the writer, the act of dumping thoughts onto a page can be incredibly therapeutic. It helps process emotions, organise jumbled ideas, and can even lead to unexpected insights. It’s like talking it out, but with the permanence of the written word.
  4. Sparking Genuine Discussion: Unfiltered thoughts, especially when they challenge norms or express strong emotions, often ignite more passionate and honest conversations. They create a starting point that feels lived-in, rather than perfectly curated.
  5. Unleashing Creativity: Sometimes, the best ideas come from letting our minds wander and capturing those initial sparks before they fade. Overthinking can stifle creativity; immediate expression can unleash it.

The Perils of Impulsivity: Cons of Writing What’s On Your Mind Right Now

However, the “publish now, think later” approach comes with its own set of significant risks:

  1. Regret and Irreversibility: Words, once written and especially once published, can be incredibly difficult to retract. A hastily written thought might cause offence, damage a reputation, or simply be something you deeply regret having shared once the initial emotion has passed.
  2. Lack of Nuance and Context: Immediate thoughts are often driven by strong emotions and may lack the necessary context, research, or empathy that a more considered piece would have. This can lead to misinterpretation, oversimplification, or even spreading misinformation.
  3. Inconsistency and Perceived Fickleness: If your opinions are constantly shifting (which is natural!), a steady stream of “in-the-moment” posts might make you appear inconsistent, unreliable, or not fully committed to any particular stance.
  4. Emotional Overload for the Audience: While authenticity is good, a constant stream of highly charged, unfiltered emotions might be overwhelming or even off-putting for your audience. There’s a fine line between relatable vulnerability and incessant venting.
  5. Digital Footprints: Everything you write online leaves a digital footprint. An opinion expressed in a moment of anger or naivete could resurface years later and impact your professional or personal life in unforeseen ways.

Should We Worry About Our Opinions Changing?

This brings us to the crucial question: should the fact that our opinions might change deter us from expressing what we feel at a particular time?

Absolutely not. To worry about opinion change is to worry about growth.

Our opinions are not static monuments; they are living, breathing entities that evolve with new information, experiences, and reflections. To pretend otherwise is to deny our own human capacity for learning and adaptation.

  • Embrace the Journey: Your past opinions are part of your journey. They show where you’ve been, what you’ve learned, and how you’ve grown. There’s power in being able to say, “This is what I believed then, and here’s how my perspective has shifted and why.”
  • Context is Key: The key isn’t to never express a current thought, but to understand the context. If you’re writing a personal blog or journal, documenting your evolving thoughts is a feature, not a bug. If you’re writing a manifesto for a political party, perhaps a more measured and consistent tone is expected.
  • Transparency Builds Trust: Being transparent about your evolving views can actually build trust with your audience. It shows vulnerability and intellectual honesty, demonstrating that you’re open to new ideas and capable of critical self-reflection.

Finding the Balance: Fleeting Feelings vs. A Set Tone

The true art of writing lies in finding the balance between these two poles:

  • For Fleeting Feelings: Use platforms and formats that allow for ephemerality and personal reflection. Your private journal, a “thoughts-of-the-day” section on a blog, creative writing, or even temporary social media stories are perfect for capturing the moment without the pressure of eternal consistency.
  • For a Set Tone or Attitude: When your writing has a specific purpose – building a brand, advocating for a cause, informing a professional audience, writing a definitive guide – then careful consideration, research, and a consistent tone become paramount. This requires pausing, editing, and often seeking feedback.

The “Pause Button” is Your Friend: Before hitting “send” or “publish,” consider asking yourself:

  1. Is this merely venting, or does it contribute something valuable?
  2. Who is my audience, and how might they interpret this?
  3. Will I still stand by these words in an hour, a day, a month?
  4. Am I presenting this as an immutable truth, or as a current perspective? (Adding disclaimers like “My current thinking on this is…” can be incredibly helpful).

Ultimately, our opinions should change. It’s a sign of a vibrant, engaged mind. The goal isn’t to suppress our immediate thoughts, but to develop the wisdom to know when to share them raw, when to refine them, and when to keep them for personal reflection.

The most compelling writing often comes from those who are brave enough to share their authenticity, but wise enough to wield their words with care.


What are your thoughts on this? Do you lean towards immediate expression or careful deliberation? Share your perspectives in the comments below!

Writing a book in 365 days – 303

Day 303

Writing what we think

The Unfiltered Mind: Should We Always Write What We Think, Right Now?

We’ve all been there: a thought flares up, an emotion surges, an opinion crystallises in our minds, and the immediate urge is to put it into words. Whether it’s a social media post, a blog entry, or even just an email, the impulse to share what’s on our minds at that very moment can be incredibly powerful.

But should we always succumb to this impulse? And should we worry that our opinions might change, making our current unfiltered thoughts seem inconsistent or even naive in the future? Let’s dive into the fascinating tightrope walk between immediate expression and thoughtful deliberation.

The Immediate Appeal: Pros of Writing What’s On Your Mind Right Now

There’s a lot to be said for capturing the raw, unfiltered essence of your current thoughts and feelings:

  1. Authenticity and Relatability: When you write from the heart, in the moment, it often resonates deeply with others. It’s raw, it’s real, and it allows readers to connect with your humanity, vulnerabilities, and genuine excitement or frustration.
  2. Capturing a Fleeting Moment: Our perspectives are dynamic. Writing what’s on your mind right now captures a snapshot of a specific time, place, and emotional state. This can be invaluable for creative writing, journaling, or even historical documentation of your own growth.
  3. Catharsis and Clarity: For the writer, the act of dumping thoughts onto a page can be incredibly therapeutic. It helps process emotions, organise jumbled ideas, and can even lead to unexpected insights. It’s like talking it out, but with the permanence of the written word.
  4. Sparking Genuine Discussion: Unfiltered thoughts, especially when they challenge norms or express strong emotions, often ignite more passionate and honest conversations. They create a starting point that feels lived-in, rather than perfectly curated.
  5. Unleashing Creativity: Sometimes, the best ideas come from letting our minds wander and capturing those initial sparks before they fade. Overthinking can stifle creativity; immediate expression can unleash it.

The Perils of Impulsivity: Cons of Writing What’s On Your Mind Right Now

However, the “publish now, think later” approach comes with its own set of significant risks:

  1. Regret and Irreversibility: Words, once written and especially once published, can be incredibly difficult to retract. A hastily written thought might cause offence, damage a reputation, or simply be something you deeply regret having shared once the initial emotion has passed.
  2. Lack of Nuance and Context: Immediate thoughts are often driven by strong emotions and may lack the necessary context, research, or empathy that a more considered piece would have. This can lead to misinterpretation, oversimplification, or even spreading misinformation.
  3. Inconsistency and Perceived Fickleness: If your opinions are constantly shifting (which is natural!), a steady stream of “in-the-moment” posts might make you appear inconsistent, unreliable, or not fully committed to any particular stance.
  4. Emotional Overload for the Audience: While authenticity is good, a constant stream of highly charged, unfiltered emotions might be overwhelming or even off-putting for your audience. There’s a fine line between relatable vulnerability and incessant venting.
  5. Digital Footprints: Everything you write online leaves a digital footprint. An opinion expressed in a moment of anger or naivete could resurface years later and impact your professional or personal life in unforeseen ways.

Should We Worry About Our Opinions Changing?

This brings us to the crucial question: should the fact that our opinions might change deter us from expressing what we feel at a particular time?

Absolutely not. To worry about opinion change is to worry about growth.

Our opinions are not static monuments; they are living, breathing entities that evolve with new information, experiences, and reflections. To pretend otherwise is to deny our own human capacity for learning and adaptation.

  • Embrace the Journey: Your past opinions are part of your journey. They show where you’ve been, what you’ve learned, and how you’ve grown. There’s power in being able to say, “This is what I believed then, and here’s how my perspective has shifted and why.”
  • Context is Key: The key isn’t to never express a current thought, but to understand the context. If you’re writing a personal blog or journal, documenting your evolving thoughts is a feature, not a bug. If you’re writing a manifesto for a political party, perhaps a more measured and consistent tone is expected.
  • Transparency Builds Trust: Being transparent about your evolving views can actually build trust with your audience. It shows vulnerability and intellectual honesty, demonstrating that you’re open to new ideas and capable of critical self-reflection.

Finding the Balance: Fleeting Feelings vs. A Set Tone

The true art of writing lies in finding the balance between these two poles:

  • For Fleeting Feelings: Use platforms and formats that allow for ephemerality and personal reflection. Your private journal, a “thoughts-of-the-day” section on a blog, creative writing, or even temporary social media stories are perfect for capturing the moment without the pressure of eternal consistency.
  • For a Set Tone or Attitude: When your writing has a specific purpose – building a brand, advocating for a cause, informing a professional audience, writing a definitive guide – then careful consideration, research, and a consistent tone become paramount. This requires pausing, editing, and often seeking feedback.

The “Pause Button” is Your Friend: Before hitting “send” or “publish,” consider asking yourself:

  1. Is this merely venting, or does it contribute something valuable?
  2. Who is my audience, and how might they interpret this?
  3. Will I still stand by these words in an hour, a day, a month?
  4. Am I presenting this as an immutable truth, or as a current perspective? (Adding disclaimers like “My current thinking on this is…” can be incredibly helpful).

Ultimately, our opinions should change. It’s a sign of a vibrant, engaged mind. The goal isn’t to suppress our immediate thoughts, but to develop the wisdom to know when to share them raw, when to refine them, and when to keep them for personal reflection.

The most compelling writing often comes from those who are brave enough to share their authenticity, but wise enough to wield their words with care.


What are your thoughts on this? Do you lean towards immediate expression or careful deliberation? Share your perspectives in the comments below!