Thursday, February 10, 2011

There are post-it pads situated strategically throughout my place, each one paired with a pen, and I have my old man to thank for them. These were marketing tchotchkes for a prescription drug, a whole box of which he dropped off before he left the country. That would be a box of tchotchkes, by the way, not drugs. I have another guy for that. The reason I’ve planted post-its around the house is simple. They offer a way to offload stray ideas, curate my thoughts, and continue my day with brain unburdened. Sometimes I’ll note a grocery item I need, but more often than not, it’s a word or two that relates to an e-mail–or blog post!–I need to produce.

I’ve jotted down a single word in the past few days: “writing,” circled once for emphasis. We’re going deep, I know, by writing about writing using writing implements–some real Russian doll shit happening here, with layers upon layers. I’ve actually been mulling over this topic for about a year now, ever since I’ve had to reach for my copywriting hat with increasing regularity. There was a time when I was convinced professional wordsmithing was for me, but you know what? I was wrong.

What I dislike is the act of pulling a series of words out of thin air. The creative process is cumbersome, painful, a constant carving and re-carving of ether. Chances are, too, that if you’re being paid to write something, the subject matter itself isn’t something you’d pursue on your own accord. It’s just a Venn diagram that seldom touches. But what I do like is the utility of writing. Take a simple e-mail, for instance. It’s fascinating how the slightest change in word choice, order, or even tense can yoke your missive to an entirely different purpose. These are rich nuances you’re able to tweak to your heart’s content. Let’s say you’re coming off like a douche in whatever e-mail you’re crafting. Just close with “Thanks!” All set.