Why I write about writing

As a full-time UX writer and content designer—an experienced junior, as I’d call myself—I split my work schedule between tackling daily projects and continuously studying to grow my skills.

And since one of my goals is to build a fulfilling life outside of work, finding time to document my content design experiences often gets pushed to the bottom of the queue.

But I do enjoy putting my writing out there, especially on LinkedIn. Over the last six years or so, it’s helped me reflect on lessons learned—not to mention the brilliant people I’ve met along the way.

A few months ago, I came across a couple of exchanges that reminded me:

1. why writing about our UX work is so important;
2. how to take a healthy approach to writing in public.

The first quote is from Chelsea Larsson. In her short essay Go off and show off, she writes:

Not acknowledging your work is a recipe for burnout. It hurts to give something your all and get zero pats on the back. It also hurts the world. Success is the currency of success. When you hide yourself, you risk your work staying hidden too.

Sometimes I wonder how many incredible people are out there, doing incredible work.

They must be very busy, I tell myself.

So busy, they may never find the time to write about their projects or give the rest of us a glimpse into their thought process.

What a pity.

Referring to Larsson’s quote above, Kristina Halvorson commented:

Write about it. Talk about it. Now is the time to be brave. Content design MUST build a substantive (read: detailed and nerdy) body of work online in order to be seen, heard, and valued — that’s YOU.

I love the idea of leaving a digital legacy through writing.

Looking back a few years from now, I want to be able to go through my blog—starting from the earliest, clumsiest posts—and hopefully see that I’ve evolved.

• How many times have I changed my mind?
• How have my work experiences shaped the UX writing professional I am today?

I want to smile at how naive and clueless I was in the beginning. I want to cringe at some of my newbie takes. By the way, cringing at your old stuff can be good—it means you’re growing.

But all this will only be possible if I try to carve out some time to write, even when I feel uninspired.

And what about the times when self-doubt kicks in?

In The Informed Life podcast, Scott Jenson describes one attitude that’s helped push me through the overthinking and insecurity loops writers so often face:

When in doubt, produce something that people can point at, right? […] I think what we’re trying to do is to move towards concrete artifacts.

They don’t have to be the answer, but they can be an answer that then gives people vocabulary. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my writing that seems to help, it’s when you provide structure and vocabulary. It doesn’t mean it’s the answer, but it gives people tools to talk about better ones. And so that’s where I’m at right now. Banging the rocks together, trying to see where sparks are, and finding like-minded people to produce some things.

What you put out there won’t be the ultimate solution to the world’s problems. It doesn’t have to be.

That might sound obvious, but it’s a liberating truth that perfectionists like me need to hear over and over again.

It doesn’t need to be THE answer—but it can put things into perspective, help you take a step forward or connect you with like-minded thinkers and creators who find your work inspiring.

I don’t think there’s anything special about my contributions. It’s really just one writer’s journey, and it’s as valid as anyone else’s input. It’s the unique combination of my experiences and what I decided to do with them.

Your ideas deserve to be visible so that others can find them, critique them and build on them.

So to summarize, I’m here to:

• document my career journey as a content designer and share what I learn as I go;
• meet (UX) writers from all walks of life and learn from their stories;
• help others however I can.