Essay

On Writing in Public

February 15, 2025 · meta , writing

Most writing advice tells you to polish before you publish. Draft, revise, revise again. Only show the world your best work.

I’ve come to believe the opposite. Or at least, a different approach.

Writing in public—publishing drafts, half-formed ideas, essays that might be wrong—has taught me more than years of private journaling. Here’s why.

The Perfection Trap

When you write only for yourself, you can afford to be vague. You know what you mean. The reader is you, and you’re forgiving. So you write “something about productivity” and move on. The thought never gets sharp.

When you write for an audience, even a small one, you’re forced to clarify. You have to explain. You have to make the argument coherent enough that someone else could follow it. That pressure is useful.

But if you wait until the idea is perfect, you never publish. Perfection is a moving target. The essay never feels “ready.” So it sits in a folder, and the world never sees it.

The Benefit of Being Wrong

I’ve published essays I later disagreed with. That’s not embarrassing. It’s evidence of growth.

Writing in public creates a record. You can look back and see what you thought two years ago. You can trace how your views shifted. That’s valuable. It’s also humbling. It reminds you that your current opinions might be wrong too.

The Feedback Loop

The best part of writing in public is the feedback. Not always praise—sometimes pushback. Someone points out a flaw in your argument. Someone suggests a source you missed. The conversation continues.

Private writing is a monologue. Public writing, even when it feels like shouting into the void, is an invitation. You’re saying: here’s what I think. What do you think?

A Small Practice

I try to publish something regularly. Not every day—that would be noise. But often enough to stay in the habit. Short thoughts, long essays, drafts. The goal isn’t to impress. It’s to think clearly, in public, and to learn from the process.

If you’re waiting for the perfect moment to start: it won’t come. Write anyway. Publish anyway. The work will improve as you go.