"Architect or archaeologist?" David Perell asks in Write of Passage.
I laughed, picturing myself with a hard hat and blueprints, carefully plotting each paragraph like a master builder.
Who was I kidding?
My writing process looks more like an enthusiastic dig site – complete with scattered notes, chaotic research trails, and the occasional "Eureka!" moment when I unearth something unexpected.
You see, I'm an archaeologist through and through.
While my architect friends sketch elegant outlines and build their essays floor by floor, I'm happily excavating through layers of ideas, brushing dust off interesting connections, and following curiosity-shaped tunnels to who-knows-where.
Before Write of Passage, I thought this was my fatal flaw. Shouldn't a "real writer" know exactly what they're building from the start?
But then I realized: my archaeological tendencies aren't a bug – they're a feature. My curiosity is my most reliable metal detector, leading me to buried treasure in the most unexpected places.
It's liberating, really. Instead of forcing myself to draft detailed blueprints, I've embraced the joy of discovery. Each piece I write is an expedition, and my readers get to join the dig. Sometimes we unearth ancient wisdom, sometimes we stumble upon fresh insights, and sometimes we find connections that were hiding in plain sight all along.
So here's to us archaeologists – the writers who aren't afraid to get our hands dirty in pursuit of buried treasures of thought.