2025-12-18

I decided today that I am going to increase my daily timer for writing these entries from 20-minute sprints to 25-minute sprints. Honestly, I go over the 20-minute window most days anyway. Realistically, most days I spend about 30-40 minutes on these entries. It’s still a good bit of progress to see the baseline slightly increase as my confidence builds, though. I’ve always enjoyed taking a sort of sportsman’s attitude towards the arts. I mean this in the sense that there is value in training and practice, and having that sort of militant dedication to it is something that I enjoy.

When I played saxophone back in high school, that was the type of dedication I put into practice. Whether it was towards rudiments like scales and long tones or memorizing heads for jazz standards and improvisation, the whole effort made me feel like I was an athlete of sorts. I think that came from the fact that there’s a level of endurance associated with practicing, especially when it came to longer sessions. In the same way that I try to improve my writing by being consistent and showing up every day, I did the same thing with practicing saxophone.

When I first started playing, I would practice for maybe 20 minutes a day. But as I began to further enjoy playing and maintaining a consistent practice schedule, I could practice for extended periods. Then during the summers when I didn’t have to go to school, I could practice upwards of 4 hours a day. It was a rewarding endeavor because after an extended practice session, the leaps and bounds in progress would feel rewarding. I could play sections in pieces at tempos that I previously couldn’t. My sound felt more focused and refined. The melodies I would improvise were more mature. There was always a great level of personal satisfaction from that.

With writing, the progress isn’t always as tangible. Of course, there’s still that component of endurance. It feels good when I write a lot of words in a certain period of time. In many writing circles, there is a huge focus placed on hitting word count targets and writing as much as one possibly can. The problem, though, is that writing more doesn’t always equate to writing better. Of course, the more one writes, the better one generally gets, but this suffers from diminishing returns after a while.

The main problem I’ve seen in amateur writing circles is that there’s a greater emphasis placed on output as opposed to what I consider the more important piece: revision. The best writers are always the best revisers. It is one thing to be able to produce a lot of words, but if they aren’t good words, then there’s not a whole lot of value in that for readers. I’ve said recently that I want my inner critic to take a back seat—which is true—but I also know that once I have a set of words written, I am relentless in my refinement of them. With my writing, I truly feel like a blacksmith smelting my metal over and over again to make the sharpest sword.

I’ve done several critiques and edits of works from other writers before, and I am noticeably relentless in my criticisms. I can write entire essays deeply criticizing someone else’s writing. My edits will make the page look like it’s been ransacked. For me, there is a standard of quality that I am used to and when I see others that don’t meet it, there’s an obligation I feel to rebuke them for their errors and show them just how far they are from true excellence. It’s something that, while seemingly cruel, is utterly necessary to me. So many people want to be a writer, but they don’t have an understanding of what that entails.

For many, there is no dedication to the craft and study of good writing. So many younger writers today aren’t even good readers. It’s a sad thing to see, but it’s something that weirdly enough gives me assurance of my talent. I know that it is absolutely conceited and perhaps even selfish to say something like that and while I try to maintain modesty in other areas of my life, this is the one thing that I’ll be more disagreeable with. This is because I care very deeply about good writing. When something is well-written, it is such a pure and sweet experience reading it. It’s something that many today don’t take in enough and so because of that, I feel emboldened to be a sharp critic not just to others, but myself as well.

My tongue is a blade that I constantly sharpen.

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