In the extremely unlikely event that I run for public office, I am magnanimously providing here for my opponent’s benefit a convenient one-stop shop for the most embarrassing things I have ever written (prior to 2020). Merry Christmas and you’re welcome.
Whatever you may think of my writing abilities (and temperament) today, the letters below supply ample evidence that I used to be even worse.
I have long struggled with the idea of putting all this on the Internet. Several of these letters, especially the oldest ones, were written to more intimate audiences (i.e., my closest relatives) and occasionally reflect political and other views I no longer espouse (and in some cases am not especially proud of). I am at times tempted to go back and edit some of these for style and redact the most cringeworthy elements. But I choose not to do this because a) I wish to maintain an accurate record of the evolution of my worldview over time, b) Doing so would be a lot of work, and c) They’re (mostly) not that bad.
…and d) I wish to convey to my posterity my fervent belief in the importance of writing — of capturing the seemingly inconsequential and otherwise forgettable happenings of your life. Sentences and paragraphs lend meaning to these little events in ways pictures alone cannot. Photo albums help you remember what you used to look like. Writing, even the most inane musings, creates a photo album of your soul. It will help you remember what you used to think about, experience and feel. And I think you will ultimately find it more interesting and fulfilling to remember what you used to look like on the inside than on the outside. I hope that exposing my warts in this way helps you understand that just as you don’t need to be Ansel Adams to take a selfie, you don’t need to be Ernest Hemingway to write your story.
Just write, kids. Write for the sake of writing. You’ll be happy you did.