Have you ever read a blog post here and thought: Meh?
Some articles I write are ideas I've been working on for over a year. I think about them often, then add them to my little note app. Sometimes I'm driving and think of something clever, so I dictate it to my notes app while the kids are fighting in the background. Then, in the middle of the night, I take time away from sleep and start putting the ideas together. All because I challenged myself to publish every other day for an entire year. I do all this, hit the publish button, and... well, and then nothing.
OK, not just nothing. Worse than nothing.
A week later, I come back to revisit the article and discover a typo in the very first sentence. I read the entire thing, and it doesn't even make sense. What point was I trying to make? Why did I use that word? Why does it make me want to fall asleep? Why do I do this to myself? For God's sake, I wrote an entire book!
When I read some older articles, I'm just as disappointed. Why didn't I add a counterpoint to balance the whole thing? I hope nobody I know ever reads this. It's weird how I get this feeling when reading my own writing. But I can assure you that when I'm writing, I'm pretty excited about it. I enjoy writing on my blog. These are my words, this is my work, this is how I express the ideas in my mind. For example, I had a blast reading, discovering and writing about timekeeping in the Star Wars universe. But, I had to re-edit it a few dozen times after publishing it.
In fact, I like the process so much that I decided maybe I needed to do more. I should also make recordings of these articles, maybe a podcast-style discussion. That would be amazing. Of course, now that I've started and committed to three recordings a week for all of 2025, listening to any episode is dreadful. My voice cracks, I regret the background music, and some episodes are just painful to listen to. Did I use too much noise canceling? I sound like a robot! Why can't I say the word "perspective"?
Again, the process of turning an article into a script is fun. I went from using my phone as a recording device to a proper microphone. I went from using the microphone backwards (trust me, it's confusing) to finally understanding the settings. I try different recording areas and experiment with different sound presets. The process is fun.
The result is frustrating to me. But for some people, those few who send me encouraging emails, who somehow enjoy the content, who challenge my ideas, this ends up being for them. They make it all worth it.
This doubt I have every time I look at things I make, every time I spot the mistakes, according to Ira Glass, these are the result of "the gap."
In an old video titled "The Gap", he explains that we go into any creative endeavor because we have taste. Good taste. But whatever we create ends up being a disappointment because it doesn't live up to that taste. This is normal. The only way forward is to keep creating and keep improving. The more we do it, the narrower that gap becomes.
Yes, I might be frustrated with everything I make today, but what I wrote yesterday is a whole lot better than what I did 10 years ago. The creative expressions, the art, they are all improving. But so is the taste. Eventually, I'll be satisfied with my work, or at least accept it. This disappointment isn't the end of it all; it just means there's still room for improvement.
You might find yourself in a similar situation. One where you feel like everything you do sucks, and everyone else is better than you. It's not them, it's you. You just happen to have good taste, and you are trying to live up to it. Keep working, keep improving, it's the only way to narrow that gap. Once you close it, you might just look back and enjoy the fruit of your labor.

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