Writing about writing.

2025 is upon us. It’s the perfect time to start a new habit of writing. 

For my first literary work of the year, let’s take a gander at a moment from a decade ago, back when I was still an idealistic 15 year old boy.

It’s 2016 and I’m in history class. My teacher is handing back the “think piece” we were tasked to write over the 2015 December holidays. He describes some of the interesting pieces of writing my peers submitted - an in-depth analysis of the Arab conflict, some commentary about hegemony and Japanese anime etc. Then he mentions my piece, awkwardly titled “My Perception on the Perception of Time”. It had no references, nor any geopolitical analysis - just 1.2k words worth of ramblings by a Sec 3 boy who felt especially sentimental that holiday. It was the epitome of he didn’t understand the assignment. 

In that moment, my teacher bestowed grace and for whatever reason, chose not to completely rip me apart in front of my peers. He was not outwardly displeased. H even said some non-negative remarks about my overly-reflective piece. For context, he was a mercilessly strict and highly intellectually rigorous teacher. He consistently gave the most fearsome remarks and ever once singled me out during assembly to give me an ultimatum for falling behind on his readings - drop out of my art elective class or his history class. In the rare times he conferred validation, I indulged in it like a shrivelled lizard licking at a dried up faucet in a heat wave.

With that backstory out of the way, I’m not actually that interested in what 15 year old me had to say about his perception of the perception of time. 

This piece isn’t about time. Today, we double down on awkward titling - “Writing about Writing” - to talk about exactly that. 

In this essay, I will write about what I learnt from reading my past writing and what I aim to achieve through writing. 

A piece of writing is like a time capsule.

Like a photograph which captures a moment in time, a piece of writing captures a snapshot of one’s mental state at the time of writing. 

It is especially so when reading a piece of writing that is your own. I feel like I vividly remember what each word had meant when I had used it. Case in point, you and I might both have a general consensus on the meaning of a simple word like “excited”. But in my writing, what exactly I meant by “excited” is privy only to me at that time of writing (and my future self, based on some fallible memory). 

Was there a small part of me that was not actually completely ‘excited’? When would I have chosen to use another word over ‘excited’? Was there anyone I had intended for the writing to be read by who might share a mutual, unique understanding of the word ‘excited’? 

To me, language is a best effort endeavour. I try my best to convey a message, but it’ll be imperfect. (Non-technical) writing, like other forms of art, is left to be interpreted by the reader. What’s amazing to me is that when you read your own writing, you get an opportunity to reinterpret those words based on the new experiences you had. One day, new experiences might alter you beyond recognition of your past self and, like a stranger, those words you personally penned start to ring hollow. And still, the essence of the past self lives on through those unaltered words. 

What I’m trying to say is, I want to write more, to leave plenty of meaningful time capsules for my future self to reopen. 

To write is to be vulnerable.

This piece, and all upcoming posts, are going on the internet. As much as I would like to believe that the act of writing is sufficient catharsis, and that this blog is just the byproduct, I know it’s not the case. I want this blog to look good. I want people to read what I have to say. I want people to pick at my thoughts and have earnest discussion with me. And that’s what makes writing an act of being vulnerable for me.

In general, I’m pretty self critical. It’s not my favourite personality trait. But that’s what made me. Just now, I denounced my writing from a decade ago as “ramblings”. What’s to say the same fate won’t befall what I am writing right now? Stay tuned for another decade to find out. 

At the end of the day, why do I want to go through the hassle of writing public entries instead of a personal diary that will never see the light of day? At this instance, I want to write enough to internalise that I am a writer. There’s a difference between someone who sees themself as a writer, versus someone who sees themself as someone who writes. For all the writing we did in school, if we really felt for each and every word we penned, we’d all be pretty prolific writers. But alas, most of the words written were junk volume. Little to no personal thoughts, no intrinsic investment, nothing but a letter grade on the line. So hopefully these write ups will be different. Writing about writing for the sake of writing. Damn, that’s a crappy, wannabe-deep sentence. 

Mastery in writing is important now more than ever. 

Now, with LLMs, writing in a neutral, matter-of-fact tone is worthless. Sometimes, reading obvious AI-generated drivel irks me. I want to hone my writer’s voice and write compellingly. At this point, I am not writing for any audience in particular. Some close friends might get sent this and that’s about it. I’m writing largely to sharpen my thoughts, each word written like a stroke of 100 grit mesh sandpaper on a bumpy chalkboard wall.

I’m going to do a stocktake about my writing. As of now, I would describe my writing style as pretty long-winded. Since forever, I can’t help but write unnecessarily long sentences and overuse a thesaurus. Like certain interviews that I recently blew, my writing tends to ramble on and on, sometimes leaving the audience disengaged and confused. It is a reflection of my meandering process of writing. I never know what I’m going to write until the words start filling the sheet. And after the meander is complete, I don’t have it in me to cut or rework the hard-earned sentences. 

I like my current process - I just need to figure out how to wrangle the words into a cohesive theme during writing. I intend to do this in a progressive manner. Intentionally try different styles and write meta reflections about the process of writing for each piece. With that in mind, let’s see how my writing develops over this semester. 

Closing Remarks

Look, I’m in my final semester of university, and I’m looking for a tech job. I’m going to be upfront and say that there are going to be pieces I write just to look good to potential employers. For example, I may document some technical endeavours with extra polish that some other writing might not receive. I will tag these pieces for employers to read. On the other hand, there may be other pieces that are a little rough around the edges, but might pertain to topics I feel more strongly about, such as this one. I hope to write an equal number of employment-seeking and personal pieces. Perhaps this blog might still be active long into the future if I find a sustainable way to keep writing. Hate to see it when people’s portfolio websites start collecting dust after the job search is complete. 

So what am I likely to write about? Probably personal endeavours in tech, art and music. I might write about the self-hosted homelab I've been working on, or the chalkboard wall I painted or the music theory I learnt in guitar class. 

Okay, happy new year and have a blessed one y’all. 

reflection

(Meta writing - had no idea where I was going to go with this piece. I chose 3 learning points pretty arbitrarily. There was no reason why it couldn’t have been 4 or 2. It implies that I haven’t yet prioritised what message I actually want to convey, over the form factor of the writing. At this point, I’m just happy that I started writing. I also realised I focus a lot on the details (e.g. syntax within each sentence) and struggle to see the piece as a whole while I write. I get easily satisfied when I write a few pretty lines in succession. It’s pretty similar to how I do art. Compensate a lack of vision and acuity to values with a whole lot of details and patterns. Sometimes, it comes together nicely, but often there are holes in substance that make my work fail to stand out.)