Questions I’ll Pretend You Asked and Answers, in Case You’re Wondering
Q: Why do you write?
Because it’s how I survive the absurdity of life without going numb. Silence doesn’t suit me.
Q: Who are you writing for?
People who think fast, feel deeply, and don’t need everything resolved by the final paragraph.
People who are bored with the obvious.
People who want to feel a little less alone in how they think.
I write to reach the three people in the back who are quietly thinking, I thought I was the only one who noticed that.
Q: Are you always this intense?
No. Sometimes I sleep.
Q: Do you ever write anything lighthearted?
You’re looking at it.
Happiness rarely leaves breadcrumbs.
Tension is more honest.
Complexity is more generous.
Also, joy doesn’t need an essay. It’s loud enough without me.
Q: Why can’t I comment on your posts?
Because I’ve met the internet.
Also, this is a TED-style presentation. Writing is my part of the conversation. Yours doesn’t need to happen in the margins.
Q: Will you ever enable comments?
No. This is not a forum. I don’t need applause, and I don’t need correction.
If something moves you, you’ll remember it. If it doesn’t, the scroll wheel still works.
Q: Why isn’t there a subscribe button?
Because if you want to come back, you will.
Q: What’s your posting schedule?
Most Saturdays.
Unless I’m busy living a life worth writing about.
Q: Can I repost or share your work?
Yes. Just don’t crop my name off it, rewrite it in Canva, or slap it on an image of a sunset.
Q: Will you respond if I message you?
If it’s sincere, possibly.
If it’s flattering, probably not.
If it’s a pitch, definitely not.
If it’s weird but interesting, there’s a chance.