Sabbatical Over (again)
On Writing Well; On Writing for Myself.
On Wednesday the 23rd, I bade National Review adieu. After wrapping up the wonderful editorial internship, I went on vacation with my family to our treasured retreats in Cooperstown, NY—my mom’s hometown—and Cape May, New Jersey. During the break, I began reading On Writing Well by William Zinsser.
Unsurprisingly, it’s written well. In fact (by “fact” I mean my unqualified opinion), the book is downright entertaining. Although I’m only fifty pages or so in to the book, Zinsser’s declarations are already hitting home with me. One example: “Writing is an act of ego, and you might as well admit it.” Well, I’ve never been accused of having too little ego so, taking a cue from Zinsser, I’m now openly admitting it.
I like to write; I enjoy hearing my voice in my inner ear work through the economic and the artistic, the personal and the universal (these two are often the same), &c.1
If you do too, that’s just dandy—you’re welcome to tag along for the ride. But, to be clear, I’m not writing for you; I’m writing for me. Again, from Zinsser: “You are writing for yourself.” I sure as hell am. Everywhere—here, especially—at all times.
I would prattle on longer (endlessly) but the sushi has arrived and I’m ravenous after working out.
Here’s the deal: I am going to continue writing here about nothing in particular and, if you find my style, tone, and rambling amusing, you’ll continue reading. Otherwise, I’m happy to continue talking to myself.
Oh!
A quote from Rush’s song Anthem: “[i]t was for me, not you, I came to write this song.”
This archaic spelling of “etc.” I have stolen directly from Jay Nordlinger, whom I had the pleasure of befriending and receiving ample correction of my sophomoric comprehension of the English language at NR. Zinsser says that “writing is learned by imitation” (what isn’t?) and imitation is the highest form of flattery—I hope Jay appreciates my learning from and flattering him.