If I am being honest about these pieces I write, these little blog posts, here is what I would say:
I feel like I go back and forth between feeling like this might (eventually) be one of the most important (career) things I ever do – to feeling like I am completely wasting my time.
It’s glimmers of decent thought surrounded by a word-salad of noise, writing 1,000 posts to find two good ones.
Honestly, writing can be a mess of an event sometimes.
Who cares. Keep going.
Joan Didion knows what I am talking about…
I am not sure what more I could tell you about these pieces. I could tell you that I liked doing some of them more than others, but that all of them were hard for me to do, and took more time than perhaps they were worth; that there is always a point in the writing of a piece when I sit in a room literally papered with false starts and cannot put one word after another and imagine that I have suffered a small stroke, leaving me apparently undamaged but actually aphasic.
-Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem