Being, doing, having

This is part of a series of posts. Come back when I’m finished and I’ll link them together.

(Well, it’s a series of two. And here’s the second one)

But for now

Being, Doing, Having

Being leads to doing leads to having.

Be a writer. Do writing. Do it long enough, and you’ll have a piece of writing as a result. Do it long enough, and you’ll have skilz.

Be. Do. Have.

But doing does not lead to being.

Forcing someone who is not a writer to do writing is a form of abuse. It leads to frustration.

So what do I do once I’m a writer?

What’s the answer?

Here’s something I’ve learned: If I look carefully at what I’m doing, and intend to find answers, I can find answers.

Right now, I am writing.

And looking.

And intending to find answers.

And what I discover is an illusion.

Illusions

After watching myself write, I start to consider that writing might be an illusion. This should not surprise me. Everything is an illusion. I’ve written about this before:

Why should writing be different?

Here’s a test for illusions I learned from Sam Harris’ book “Waking up.” Look carefully. See what changes. If what you were looking at changes radically—or even disappears—then it was an illusion.

As I write, I look more carefully. Before long, I see through the illusion.

I’m not writing.

I’m not writing this sentence.

Even though I’ve decided that I’m a writer, I don’t write.

I sit. I intend. And writing appears.

How writing appears

I’ve written about this before. A lot, like here and here and here and here

Then, after the writing appears, I read what has appeared. And then I judge its quality.

Quality!

That’s what it is.

Find out why, here.