Writing for fun, writing as a millennial, the case for FAFO
As a millennial and a Tumblr gal back in the 00s and 10s, I started to feel like I was existing on Substack in a sea of people who are getting younger and younger than me and, if I am very candid, having less and less in common with me. It’s comforting to know that there are so many of us who refused to disappear when blogging dissolved or turned into the shitshow that is Twitter.
I write the same way I did when I was in my twenties, which probably contributes to why I feel like an old ugly duckling on here. The cynicism has never left me, my general anger at the state of the world has only compounded, and I probably will say things that will offend some people. But I’ve never cared about that. I’m not interested in reading about beauty trends, living a soft life, being a thought daughter, or how to become intelligent and well-read. I do what I want (while wearing winged eyeliner), and I already am intelligent and well-read. I don’t understand why many other people can’t get there on their own too.
I don’t care for censorship and trigger warnings, either (probably why the kids think we’re so inappropriate). I don’t believe in walking on eggshells because you want to appeal to everyone and then making sure you only make content that everyone will like. We’ve all walked different paths and have seen the world through different eyes – blogging is for everyone and, for me, the point is to be real. Why would I want to read a carefully curated piece of work that serves to be the same as… everything else? Some people have been able to live a nice, easy life; others have seen the horrors and want to share with the class
I want to read about what people are thinking, I want to read about personal experiences and all the little things that make their lives (and writing) different from everyone else’s. I want it to be accidentally adorned with their own personal flair and I don’t want it to be so censored. Thoughts can be ugly when they’re not censored, and it seems we’re scared of that.
Writing as a job and why I didn’t do it – for the love of writing
I poked fun at the state of the world and I tore apart the things I didn’t agree with, with a sharp pen and little grace. At the time, I was passionate about everyone having a voice, no matter how small – my readership was moderate but mighty, and I cared more about that than traipsing all the way to Shoreditch five days a week to be a copywriter. I saw my future and it involved slowly hating writing as it became less an art – or expression – and more tedious work.
I’m not saying I staunchly rejected the job offer just because of that. In hindsight, I probably should have taken it at least temporarily, but I had a bad feeling about doing it. Butterfly effect and all that (or burnt toast theory, whatever).
Spoiler: I didn’t go on to become a bestselling author or the best copywriter in the world. I did some writing jobs here and there and I let the praise and money make me feel good, but I didn’t really apply for writing jobs again. I didn’t want that to be my day-to-day.
I thought about how, throughout sixth form, I spent days and nights reading literary theory and philosophy for fun (I wasn’t studying them); by the end of uni, I had hidden my anthologies so far away that the light couldn’t get to them and remind me they existed.
Unprotecting your peace – for better writing
It’s people-watching, helping an elderly man cross the road, saying good morning to the dog-walkers in the park, banter with the person ahead of you in the queue. Something stupidly small will happen, like the teenager working at Cineworld gleefully telling us about the last film he watched while we’re waiting, popcorn in hand, to get to the showing we’re late for – and I will think this is what life is all about. It’s real human connection and actually living the one life we have in a way that isn’t carefully structured.
I will say I think we wrote differently as millennials because we didn’t have the internet as it is today; we formed original thoughts and – most importantly – we actually went out and lived life rather than talking about living it. We also cared more about friendships, I think – inconvenience is the price we pay for community and all of that. I can’t imagine saying ‘I can’t take you to your appointment because no means no and you need to respect that. I’m protecting my peace’.
Social media used to be a genuinely fun way to connect with friends and express ourselves, and has grown rapidly into a fiendish thing that serves to homogenise human thought. It was something we had when we weren’t busy, rather than a part of us we took everywhere (either on our phones or in our minds, wondering how we can make content out of everything). We weren’t all filming in public and we didn’t believe that doomscrolling in bed is self-care.
We were spending real time with our friends/family, taking risks without fear of being ridiculed on the internet, getting ourselves into situations and having stories to tell. Some that probably shouldn’t be told. We were absolutely not protecting our peace; being a homebody and following the rules wasn’t the norm, we just did stuff with whomever wanted to do it with us.
We didn’t wait for a thousand people to give us a curriculum on how to live life. We read reviews in magazines we’d bought and long form posts on blogs we subscribed to, we relied on word-of-mouth, and we learnt how to research the things we wanted to know more about because we didn’t have thousands of 30-second videos at our disposal.
I think that’s what is missing.
Instead of using their brain cells for a little bit of work, people are ‘commenting to stay on personal curriculum-tok’ and being spoon fed in every facet of their life. Nobody researches things themselves because they’re scared to get things wrong and waste time – fuck around and find out seems to be a thing of the past. I don’t blame those who have never known the joy of pre-social media life, but I’d like to see more people rebelling against it.
Sit with yourself and think about a problem before you search it on TikTok, use Google more and AI less, read a non-fiction book (NOT self-help) or watch a documentary. Anything but follow what a middle class pilates princess with a chihuahua tells you to do. Or Claude.
I say bring back fucking around and finding out. It’s so much easier to follow the blueprint of someone else’s life and pretend it works for you, but how fun would it be to start figuring it out on your own?
Now Playing: Lust for Life – Iggy Pop
Originally posted on Substack. Subscribe to receive free updates via email.