Why do I Write?

Do I even want to be a "writer"?

I didn’t start writing because I had some grand plan. I didn’t even start writing that long ago. I stumbled onto Substack in late summer 2024, lurked like a stalker in the shadows for a while, and finally hit “publish” on my first post in October.

Why? Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure. I had heard that Substack existed and that there were lots of interesting writers on here. I didn't really know what I wanted to do, I just knew I wanted to create something. I wasn’t even sure what that “something” was. But by starting to write I discovered that it allowed me to make sense of the world around me in a way that thinking alone alone never could.

When I write, I don’t just sit and stew on ideas. I chase them down, wrestle them into sentences, and see if they make sense when they’re out in the open. Writing keeps me focused. It’s like having a conversation with myself where I actually get to finish my sentences.

"I can type at the speed of thought."

Not really, but it's a cool quote isn't it, I can almost keep up, well enough that my brain dumps can get pretty long, my rough draft for this post was 4,107 words long. That's the exciting bit for me, getting the ideas out, then comes the editing process. Not quite so exciting!

Pick a Niche

People say you should pick a niche when you write. “Find what you’re good at and write about that,” they say. They being the "Guru's"

Okay. I’m good at a few things: I’m a professional drone operator. Cool job, right? But do I want to write about drones? Not really.

Other stuff I’m good at? CCTV systems and Microsoft Excel. Riveting, I know.

So if I’m not going to write about what I’m good at, maybe I should write about what I’m interested in. There lies the problem. I find myself interested in pretty much everything. Every article I read is a shiny object, something else to learn about. My curiosity is like a toddler on a sugar high, endless energy, zero direction.

I’m forever falling down rabbit holes, tugging on threads that go deep. Sometimes, I’ll emerge hours later, having accidentally read about the history of amateur wrestling in the backstreets of Carlisle. I’m forever taking detours, like a road trip delayed because, “There’s a cool cave on the way, it’s only 30 miles in the wrong direction.”

I can't stand open loops, give me a question, a conundrum, a mystery and I want to solve it, for no other reason than to satisfy my curiosity. If I’m ever chasing you, just throw a half finished crossword behind you, I won’t be able to continue until I’ve solved it and you’ll get away, no problem.

Can I just write about everything I'm curious about?

There's that word again. Curiosity.

That’s how The Curious Detour was born. I decided to write about the things I notice that other people might miss while they’re busy living their lives. Little things. Big things. Weird things. Interesting things.

But then something unexpected happened.

I started writing about myself.

I began putting my heart on my sleeve, sharing my struggles, and being vulnerable. I didn’t plan to do that, but I realised I enjoy reading similar posts from others. It’s relatable. When an author shares something real, you feel connected. You feel seen.

Maybe that’s what I wanted. Maybe I wanted readers to feel like we’re all on this weird, messy journey together. I think that's what I want from this. A journey, where I document each stop in the best way I can.

I’m writing for me, because I enjoy it. If nothing else, that's enough of a reason to keep doing it. If I’m writing anyway, to organise my thoughts, and amplify them, why not hit “publish” and see what happens?

I’m writing for my kids. Someday, when they’re older, or when I’m gone, I want them to be able to look back and see what made their dad tick. I want them to know what I struggled with, what I loved, what goals I had and what I was trying to achieve.

And I suppose as a by product, I’m writing for you, too. Yes you, the one who is reading this right now. Thanks by the way!

I’ve made friends here. People I genuinely want to see succeed. People who leave thoughtful comments, who pat me on the back, who share insights that make me better. People who I can't wait to see what they come up with next.

Finally, I’m writing for the lurkers. You know who you are. Sitting there in the shadows, reading but not posting, yet. I was you. I know what that feels like. And I want you to know this: You don’t need a niche. You don’t need a perfect plan. You don’t need an audience.

You just need to start.

Even if you never hit “publish,” write anyway. You might be terrible at first. I was. I think I still am. But nobody expects you to be perfect. Except you.

That was a hard lesson for me to learn. I used to obsess over getting everything just right. But perfection? It’s a myth. I finally let go of that and never looked back. Well, apart from this reflective post I'm writing now.

Here’s my advice, from someone a few months in: don’t worry about stats. Don’t worry about open rates or engagement numbers. Just write. Write posts. Write notes. Read what others are writing. Leave comments on the things that make you think. The things that you learn something from. Be supportive, be open to engagement, be kind.

Do those things, and you’ll feel like you belong. you'll begin to feel part of the community, because you'll be part of the community.

That sense of belonging snuck up on me. At first, I thought I didn’t want it. I’ve got enough people to deal with in real life. But the positivity here is different. It’s genuine.

I wrote a note not too long ago:

Substack is like a weird bar I walked into one day.

I didn't know anyone, but everyone was friendly, interesting and keen to talk to each other about what they liked, disliked and their struggles and triumphs.

No judgement, just good vibes.

I'm glad I stumbled in.

If you're reading this, you're part of the reason that this place feels so welcoming, so thank you!

Sure, some people are here to self-promote, but even the shameless ones seem to want to help others succeed.

A rising tide lifts all boats.

We’re not in competition. There’s no limit on the like or share buttons. No cap on positivity. We can all win.

So here I am, writing for all of the above, and for whatever comes next.

That’s the exciting part. I don’t know what’s next. I’ll find out right alongside you.

I haven’t turned on the “paid” feature yet. I got a pledge for a yearly subscription, which was lovely, but impostor syndrome told me, “No, don’t cash in. That’s greedy.”

Thanks Jess :)

It’s not about confidence. I have plenty of that. But self-doubt? That’s a different beast. When I figure that out, guess what? I’ll write about it.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the best person to help you on your journey is someone who’s one step ahead of you. Their mistakes are still fresh in their mind. They remember what it was like to be where you are now. I hope I can bring some of that to my writing. I really hope it does help.

And that’s why I believe in building a catalogue of work. Once it’s written, it’s there forever, waiting for someone to find it. Even if I’m miles ahead of where I started, the blueprint remains for those who are just beginning.

So why do I write?

I’ll tell you when I figure it out. I expect that in a year, I still might not really know.

But now it’s your turn. Why do you write?

I was inspired to write this by

Alea

, who wrote about why she’s a creator. We’re at similar stages in our journeys, and I suggested she schedule a follow-up in a year to see how much she’s grown. Link to that post at the end.

I’m taking my own advice and adding that to my calendar right now.

If you’ve made it this far, I’d love it if you’d write your own “Why I Write” post. Share the link in the comments. Tag me in the post. Let’s create a directory of our reasoning.

And if you don’t write… why not? Maybe it’s time to start.

Why Do I Create Content? (It’s Not About Money or Attention)