Yesterday’s post was shorter than my CBN — Current Blogging Norm.
I’ve written short posts before — like Day 28: Losing the investment in the outcome, Day 68: Barriers to Connection, Day 85: You’ll figure it out, and, especially, Day 95: A startlingly brief post (which is, essentially, one line: “We are neither as unimportant or as important as we fear.”) — but not for a while.
Why was yesterday’s post — What I learned at the group therapy conference” — so short? Confidentiality created safety there, so there wasn’t much I could write. Also, before composing that post, I wrote an email where I took some risks, so I had less time and energy to spare.
Don’t get me wrong: I think brief posts are fine. Many of the posts I learn from, in the Blog-o-sphere, are short and sweet. Like this, this, and this, which I read here on WordPress, this morning.
And there are many famous sayings about the advantages of brief communications:
“Brevity is the soul of wit.”
― William Shakespeare, Hamlet
“I have only made this letter longer because I have not had the time to make it shorter.”
(Letter 16, 1657)”
― Blaise Pascal, The Provincial Letters
“It is my ambition to say in ten sentences what others say in a whole book.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche
“The secret of a good sermon is to have a good beginning and a good ending; and to have the two as close together as possible.”
― George Burns
“Be sincere, Be brief, Be seated.”
― Franklin D. Roosevelt
“Like all sweet dreams, it will be brief, but brevity makes sweetness, doesn’t it?”
― Stephen King, 11/22/63
“Writing is 1 percent inspiration, and 99 percent elimination.”
― Louise Brooks
“A novel is just a story that hasn’t yet discovered a way to be brief.”
― George Saunders
(thanks to Goodread, for the quotes and the images)
Here’s the soul of irony: This post can NOT be brief, now that I’ve included so many quotes about brevity.
So what else do I want to write, before this becomes a novel? How can I make the beginning and the ending of this “sermon” as close as possible?
While it may be too late for the latter, here are some final thoughts, for today:
That email I sent yesterday was one where I took some risks. I:
- wrote to somebody I admire,
- was authentic, and
- asked for help.
For me, that might be the very definition of a risky email. I haven’t heard back, as of this writing. Now, I’m waiting, to see if I get a response.
If I don’t, am I still glad I sent the email?
Look what I did, right there, dear readers. I was sincere, brief, and seated.
Thanks to President Roosevelt, to the other admirable advocates of brevity in this post (including A Small Act of Kindness, lead.learn.live, and Find Your Middle Ground), and to you, for reading today.