180 years ago, Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote the following:
“Every excess causes a defect; every defect an excess. Every sweet hath it sour; every evil, its good… For everything you have missed, you have gained something else; and for everything you gain you lose something.”
(Emphasis added for obvious reasons.)
When you walk down the street, AirPods jammed in your ears listening to Rogan or Hermozi or Sanchez or Shapiro or any of the others, the gain is obvious. You fill idle time with information.
The question worth asking is: what is the cost?
What introspection is missed? What ideas are hiding in the clouds for you? What secret insights does you mind keep from your conscious? How much attention does it cost you? And how long after that attention is overdrawn do you keep listening, keep pretending to learn, keep pretending to advance?
There is a frenetic need in our society to get ahead. Get ahead in what? Get ahead of whom? Get ahead at what cost?
In dark corners of the internet, you can buy followers. You gain status. At what cost?
There’s the money, of course. The real cost of buying followers, though, is internal. You pay the cost of constant emotional unrest.
What if someone finds out you are dishonest?
Fake followers do not engage. They do not share your work. They do not offer suggestions for improvement. They are not vulnerable, helpful, or real. They have no value, aside from when a gullible person is impressed by big numbers.
Pretend you leverage that fake following for a brand sponsorship or book deal. You gain a money. At what cost?
What happens when the brand wants more impressions? Will you buy more followers? What if the publishing house wants to sell more books? Will you buy them yourselves?
(Aside: If you knew the number of authors who buy their way onto bestseller lists, it would make your toes curl.)
Every piece of great writing also has a cost.
It usually looks something like this:
Write a terrible first draft
Fix the enormous problems in the second draft
Add emotions in the third draft
Proofread in the fourth draft.
This is the cost, no matter your experience.
F. Scott Fitzgerald’s final manuscript — The Last Tycoon — was found covered in self-criticism after the author died. Stephen King’s 32nd novel — 11/22/63 — got a completely different ending by the time it went from first draft to print. George Lucas emerged to applause when he finished a Star Wars prequel screenplay… and then admitted “well, there are many scenes where it just says ‘they fight.’”
Most would-be writers get caught up in the following question:
"Am I capable of publishing great writing?”
The better question is
"Am I willing to pay the cost required for great writing?”
The correct answer is obvious.
The problem is, you have to say “yes” each time.
Brilliant. And I love F Scott and am so interested to learn he had that level of self-criticism. Encouraging.
Genuine, authentic, meaningful writing without AI or fake followers still means something. I hope.