Blogging As Cerebral Housecleaning

I used to think that first someone has crisp, well-articulated ideas, and then they blog about them.  However, I'm starting to think the process works the other way around.  Allow me to explain.

Original-Content Blogging Is Not What I Expected
Blogging your own professional & original content, I have discovered, is rather terrifying.   And to my great surprise, I'm learning a lot.  I had not expected it to turn out this way.

I had thought that I'd opine upon all matters, great and small -- and, well, just bless the world with the benefit of my profound insights.  (</sarcasm>)  Said another way, my blogs would be nothing more than a reflection of what I already knew.   I certainly did not expect to research any blog topic -- in general, I'd say that if you need to research a topic to blog upon it, then you don't know it well enough in the first place.

The Ugly Truth:  My Raw Thoughts Are A Mess
But once I started to write out some of my thoughts, I discovered they were terribly ill-formed.  I will have a dozen opinions on a rather general topic, that refuse to congeal into a centralized point.  Sometimes my opinions obliquely contradict one another.  Obvious counter-arguments often stand out, all over the place.  And often I can hardly find anecdotal evidence for my opinions, much less formal, data-driven evidence. 

The net result:  If I publish my thoughts in their raw state, I'd be practically begging for someone to tear me to shreds.  In fact, I'd deserve it.

The Blogging Stakes Are High
This is why blogging original content can be terrifying.  I might write a dozen seemingly-sensible posts, but any one of them might contain a fatal flaw -- which someone might point out (in the comment section), at any time.  Meanwhile, the internet being what it is, if/when someone does, they will likely make their points forcefully and embarrassingly.

Untold others might read it, agree with the poster, and laugh at me.  It reminds me of the scene from Back To The Future, where George McFly explains to his son why he won't let anybody read his stories:  "Well, what if they didn't like them, what if they told me I was no good? I just don't think I could take that kind of rejection."

Blogging and public speaking share the same risk:  Embarrassment in front of your peers.  Any credibility I might have earned,  <poof> gone in a heartbeat. 

Cleaning Out My (Cerebral) Utility Drawer
To protect myself from asserting ridiculous opinions, blogging forces me to dump out my ideas into notepad, and sift through them.  This is the cognitive equivalent of dumping out my kitchen's utility drawer's contents onto the table:  A bunch of must-have items (scissors, tape, etc) mixed in with lots of junk (expired coupons, one-off screws, and miscellaneous plastic crap).    Some items are obviously valuable, others are clearly not (where I marvel at how they made it this far), but most fall in the middle.

The process requires judgment and painful decision-making.  Most items are kind of useful, in just the right circumstances they might add value.  However, each thing must "sing for its supper," where its estimated value must be greater than its storage costs. 

In the case of the utility drawer, questions include whether I save four almost-empty rolls of Scotch tape, and whether those assorted AAA batteries are still any good.    In the case of a blog, it's identifying the deeply-held, empirically-evident assertions (must-haves) from the indulgent fact-devoid opinions (junk).  But in both cases, it's mostly the tedious work of sorting out all the stuff in the middle.

The Output Isn't Always Perfect...
Every time I'm done cleaning out the utility drawer, I wince a little.  Painful decisions were made, and it's unclear whether rules were applied consistently.  Perhaps I should have pared down the contents a bit more, or a bit less.  Some items go to the trash with a hint of regret, while others remain in the drawer under a cloud of suspicion.  

Writing is no different.  Not every part of every argument is rock-solid. There are additional details I could have added, arguments I could have made, and likely rebuttals I could have addressed.    Conversely, I could have removed anecdotes and pared down detail, to keep the article shorter and more to-the-point.  On both sides, there is regret.

In the case of the Utility drawer, I always leave it in a better state than I found it.  Sadly, I wish I could say that the same for my blog, but I cannot.  Similarly, sometimes I start an article hell-bent upon proving a point, and by the time it's fully-written, I've been so steeped in counter-arguments that I'm not sure whether I believe the original point myself.  Quite a few blog posts have been trashed for exactly this reason -- which is especially painful.

...But The Mental Benefits Make It Worthwhile
Nevertheless, when I'm done (even when I abandon the blog post altogether) my brain feels more organized.   More often than not, the issue feels crisper and more well-understood.  Usually I have a strong opinion, but not always -- sometimes I end up with deep sympathy for varying perspectives.

This doesn't mean that I'm always correct in my final understanding.  But I'm always a bit clearer-headed than when I started -- and if so, then the blogging effort was a success, no matter what else happens.

I can then enjoy a moment of satisfaction, before spotting a typo in the third paragraph and hastily logging back in to fix it.