I studied writing in college like a lot of mentally ill people major in psychology – to figure out what the hell was wrong with me. I’d been told my whole life that I was a good writer; it was pretty much literally the only thing people identified that I was good at. Yet I hated it, and avoided writing, so that every writing assignment was the pattern familiar to many, of procrastinating to the last possible second and pulling an all-nighter to write the paper. I even procrastinated on sitting down to write this post. 

We are awash with writing. It was obvious from the first civilizations that did it that this was a good way to share information, and that sharing information was incredibly powerful. We weren’t limited any more to what the elders in our groups remembered from their grandparents about what to eat and how to make food grow. Writing caught on like wildfire, because it made us smarter. It was a way of capturing the memories and experiences of people who came before, so we didn’t have to invent everything from scratch. New information could be shared. We were able to advance because our brains were multiplied by writing. 

Writing wasn’t available to everyone for a long time. There were millenia where only a select few could read and write, and only a handful of books were available. With printing and libraries, more and more people had access to written information. We got smarter still, and the information available to us exploded. People resumed scientific inquiry, and were able to share their results with people who were interested – they were able access a thousand peoples’ lifetime of work building knowledge. 

And now even geography and language don’t limit what we can share with our writing. People from across the globe can have instantaneous access to the writings of anyone about anything. What will this change about how our intelligence multiplies? We have barely begun to find out. Our collective memory has expanded from a few thousand handwritten volumes 2,000 years ago to half a billion books’ worth today. 

We have a permanent written record of how we long for connection, how we spew vitriol on people even only slightly different from us, how easily we are deceived, how passionately we share ideas. We share our whole selves online, and future civilizations will have access to a comprehensive history of who we were in 2021. Our memories and experiences are captured in unheard of detail.

In a world of limitless written information, but limited attention, how do we decide what to pay attention to? Whose words are impactful enough to be worth our time? The choices we make about what’s worth reading reflect a truly baffling set of priorities, including seeking one weird trick to melt belly fat and the 5 articles of clothing the cast of “The Bachelorette” can’t live without. But what do we choose to pay attention to in this world where everyone can write, everyone does write, and everyone finds things to read every day?

It’s a bizarre proposition to put my most shameful moments and deepest self-doubts on this permanent, vast platform. Any of us can put anything we want on here, and here I am, armor stripped off, for friends, co-workers, and family alike to see. I’m writing wondering if there are people out there who think like I do – or, is it arrogant to say, want to think like I do? How do I get people to read this instead of TMZ? Maybe it’s enough that it’s part of the permanent record that a bougie middle-aged former addict liked to think about nature and meditation. 

So I’ve gotten over my personal aversion to writing. It’s a precondition to making a contribution that shows that a few things are still true: that lay people still think about the natural world, and the human condition, and how to be better tomorrow than we are today. I’m glad you don’t have to be especially qualified to do this, because I don’t have credentials. Now that there’s no gatekeeper, I don’t even have to be special to contribute to the entire collected memory of all the writing of the past and present. If you read it and write back, you’ll be part of it too.