No, I won’t take your writing advice.

I recently read some modern advice about writing blogs. We were told to get to the point as fast as possible. Well, sure, but at what cost?

This eager writing advice was shared, alongside a barrage of other online articles just like it: Cut out all the fluff. Stop lingering. What is your bottom line? Don’t bother with poetics. Definitely do not share a personal connection, nor a cheeky anecdote. Just say it! 

It seems that no one wants to “waste their time,” much less be pulled into a spiral of extended thought.

Apparently, readers have better things to do these days, like studying TikTok, driving 80 miles per hour, or reflecting on the wild exaggerations of narcissists, five-point steps to flaying your ex, as well as glaring at the shocking images of random violence, and look, there’s a pretty dress.

I don’t intend to subscribe to anyone’s shallow impatience, dear writing advisor. This conditioned inability to focus disables our deeper thoughts.

No. I’m not going to take your snappy, edgy writing advice.

You see, I won’t tolerate pushy readers. I cannot fathom the surface nature of their tiny zippy minds. They demand small, willful soundbites over soulful wisdom. Why are we shoving everyone along to get no where as fast as possible? Did you not ever read Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 ? To make it quick: It doesn’t end well. But the consummate readers were the last ones standing.

If you need to look up consummate, it will require more time. Nonetheless, I am not going to stop using the best word because you don’t want to learn it.

I will take as long as I need to combat this ever-increasing spin of the earth, where the observers and curious wanderers are flung off into isolated space. I will go without an audience contentedly before I let your inane speed determine mine.

I will meander back here with the contemplatives, far behind you, but living full and breathing deep, taking my sweet, sweet time with the reward of tranquility, holding my ground, while I still can.