I hate writing essays.
I’m good at them (or so I believe). And to an extent, sometimes they’re even fun.
That is, until I realize that writing like the way I’d like to talk is a very good way to devolve into a confusing mess of bizarrely punctuated run-on sentences.
Then it comes to the part I hate – writing in a way that’s meant to be readable.
Call me an elitist, but I don’t like the writing style which pervades most blogs – simple to the point of being a bullet-point checklist minus the dots, as conversational as a PowerPoint, and by my pompous wordiness do I hate 5 Steps to literally anything. What is with the internet and making everything a 5 Step process?
So, I guess I don’t really hate writing essays. I’m not fond of hearing the sound of my own voice, even on a screen, wary of conceit as the past few days have led me to be (more on that in another post, coming soon), but at heart I do like composing speeches.
I just don’t like making them readable.
Truth be told, I just hate lists.
From the City on a Hill 