I've resolved to be a better writer.
This isn't one of those vapid New Year's resolutions like: lose weight, gain friends, or lose weight-gaining friends. This is valid. Each New Year I inevitably reminisce over the previous year, then wonder how to improve myself. Perhaps I should draw more or maybe I should ask the men in the ominous white van lingering outside my house if they could turn their radio off—that steady beeping is really annoying. I've reflected on why and how I'll accomplish my goal.
But alright, I'll admit wanting to be a better writer is pretty generic. I always want to write better, so that's nothing new. Last year I actually made progress. I got my first job and an internship with some website. Now I have money to buy gumballs and the impressive clout of an unpaid intern! What's unique about my goal is I know how I'll get better—I'll develop my voice by experimenting and taking risks.
Last year I wrote like a freelance writer.
Rather than having fun with my writing, I was more interested in explaining topics quickly and efficiently. I got the job done. I was informative, but impersonal and cautious. I want to develop my voice as a writer; I want to be unique and not just dependable. Last year I found outlets to write, this year I'll take advantage of those outlets like a four-year-old with a fork.
So why am I telling you this, dear friend I tricked into reading this article? I want to update people about my life, I want to distract myself from the periodic beeps punctuating my every waking action, and I think I owe the generous people who read my content, who like it and share it, a promise: this year will be better.
Here are the specific reasons I think I can become a better writer.
I slack off. The reason I've pulled so many all-nighters is because I'm such a master slacker that I can write everything last minute—no, last second. Actually I'm usually late by most clocks. I'm told this is a problem. But because I recognize that, I can address it. I'll pulverize my procrastination problem by writing earlier and more energetically.
Usually I choose topics I want to understand better, but that perspective diminishes me. I'm often not writing for you, I'm just doing research and bundling it into an article. It's as cold and utilitarian as Putin's love life. This one's trickier, but essentially I recognize this isn't a blog and that I'm writing for you, dear reader. My duty's to my fellow millennials, to the vacuous hipsters sucking away at the technological marrow of society. I love you guys!
Writers should write for themselves. Despite my self-deprecation and satire, I do legitimately like some of my work and I enjoyed writing it too. The problem is that while scrounging for ideas, I stumbled upon an easy template to exploit. I assumed the same tone as those last-minute articles. This year—no, from now on—I'll imbue my work with the passion and zeal of a bored white man rambling on the internet.





















