Force is a push or pull exerted on an object. In digital writing, the lack of a strong enough force from the publishing process pushing back against our impulses results in the torrent of vitriol and low-quality ideas we see public on the internet. It is the relative ease of getting approval and feeling seen that so readily rewards us for engaging with this low-effort system, and results in us feeling sad and disconnected despite having more to read and more people to talk to than any other time in our species' history.
I wrote about friction in communication earlier this week and highlighted some examples of real-world attempts to reintroduce it into the our lives. But what I failed to touch on is the personal responsibility we have to introduce friction into our own processes. It's an excuse to wait for somebody else to solve our problems. Taking the time to make personal changes is an easy first step to spread better communication in our circles and communities.
So how does one increase friction in their own process? First, by identifying what tools are crucial to your creative success. For all the non-writers, anything you've heard about the particular toolbelts we wear is true. George R.R. Martin writes Game of Thrones on a DOS word processor. Twain dictated his work later in life And if the rest of these examples are genuine there is no end to the nuanced methods of writers. That isn't to say you should use a pencil and paper, or an outdated operating system. If your preferred method is a Chromebook and Google Docs, all the more power to you. They got me through college. But I do suggest you evaluate the helpful hints and digital editors these tools provide and see if you really need them. Microsoft Word has been disappointing me for nearly half a decade with perturbed grammatical suggestions taking pot shots at my prolix paragraphs. If you use Grammarly, or any other writing assistant, consider uninstalling it. They're hardly accurate, and proofreading your work helps to halt the outsourcing a learning opportunity to a machine.
It'll force you to reread your work more and watch your prose. Writing is like composing music. You must develop a rhythm on which to disperse your information. Regardless of whether you're writing and email or a manifesto, it's the rhythm and scales readers come to identify you by. That's what style is. These tools break your personal style. Making your voice corpocratic and impersonal. You don't need them.
The need to communicate is intrinsic to our entirety. We learn, live, and love for the stories we collect along the way. Through the ease of publishing and passivity of the masses we are all worse off. Curious minds in a vast dead ocean hopping from blog post to article. Each one a rouge wave away from being gone forever. Forcing ourselves to do better. To demand higher quality stories and improving ourselves and our workflows to create them is key to rekindling understanding amongst our peers and enemies, bringing warmth to the cold digital world, and telling good stories.
Beyond all this conjecture I have ideas for how to actually build systems that promote creating with friction, and propagating the right to free expression of everyone in such a way no server outage, DNS crisis, or troubled artist can destroy. You'll hear more about them in future post series.
Have these posts intrigued you enough to examine friction in your own life? If so, how have you introduced friction into your communication?