I throw away a lot of mail. Most of it gets dropped into the little box nailed to the front of my house. The nice enough guy in the light blue uniform means well yet I can’t help but wonder if he, too, knows that most of what he delivers is ultimately trashed. Every so often, though, there is something hidden in the circulars and piles of credit card offers that is worth keeping. Something handwritten, from someone we know personally. 

Rare, but it’s been known to happen. 

I took a HUGE step back from blogging this year because I grew afraid of the noise. It felt like I was adding to it. Every post I read felt like it was there to take up a little piece of the infinite space that was the internet. I feared being lumped in with the rest. 

Inversely, there was a considerable amount of stuff that was out there that felt like it should have been wrapped up in an envelope and sent straight to the person that it was intended for. 

Either stuff that is totally useless or completely exposed. There is no middle ground with the net. 

A few years ago I started emailing groups of people about stuff that I was making. Photos, writing, showings, whatever. A periodic email that went out that hopefully provided some value. Each one had to be carefully designed and the content considered well, lest I’d be wasting their time. 

As I re-approach the idea of producing something every day, I have a very specific question that goes with each thing. 

Would I send this to someone?

Instead of packaging what I want to say into a box and pressing publish and hoping the entirety of the world sees it, what if I dropped it in an email and hit send? What kind of response would it get? Any at all? Would I eventually wind up in spam folders, caught in filters, and eventually told to stop emailing people overall? 

What if we all took this approach? From the blogs we create to the marketing materials we send out, what if we had the question pasted over our computer screens: Who Would I Send This To? 

Perhaps most of us would still hit “publish” anyway because there is a page-view quota to hit, or we just don’t care, or we are the kind of people who think everyone wants to read everything. Or, we could give our writing a little extra effort and start landing quality stuff into inboxes. Stuff that isn’t immediately trashed, stuff that our mailman would be proud to deliver. 

Writing would be great if it weren’t the only thing I knew how to do.

I publish as much as I can, you’ll just have to wait for the rest.


Writing would be great if it weren’t the only thing I knew how to do.

I publish as much as I can, you’ll just have to wait for the rest.


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