Val Thinks has a simple mission: to make you stop and think every week. Each issue is bite-sized, taking no more than five minutes to read.1 But every single newsletter that lands in your inbox—no matter how short—still requires the careful making of myriad decisions.
Which topic to write about? What’s my angle? What’s the point I’m trying to make? What question do I want my reader to think about? Then onto the details: How to begin my first sentence? What word to use here? How much humour to sprinkle in? Is this point a parenthesis or a footnote?
The longer I’ve been in the newsletter game, the easier answering these questions has become. Some decisions now get made so quickly I don’t even realise I’ve asked the question.
But one in particular never got easier. In fact, it seems to have become more intractable each time I’ve asked it:
What can I say that’s true to what I think, but will not unnecessarily offend the people I care about?
My newsletter is a collection of my thoughts on life. Inevitably, some of them will offend. I don’t want to carelessly harm, but I also definitely don’t want to censor myself just to avoid potentially hurting someone.
Hence the unforgiving question.
Consumed by worry…
How true to my thoughts can I be? This question plagues me every time I put forth a contrarian opinion or reference a real person in my life. I agonise over the littlest decisions—how to phrase this, which adjective to use—and revise endlessly.
Even after countless edits, I’m never completely satisfied with how a piece sounds when I’m afraid I might be offending someone, like friends with kids or—the trickiest of all—my parents. The question “Have I gone too far?” consumes me until long after my post has reached the inboxes of the very people I suspect I have offended.
Weeks later, I will still obsess over every interaction, and wonder when the potentially hurt do something out of the ordinary—are they mad? Sometimes it takes months for my relationship with that person to normalise, for me to conclude I haven’t crossed the line that can’t be crossed.
All this, and maybe the person didn’t even blink when reading the offending sentence in the first place.
But I do it anyways
Despite being consumed by worry each time I write a potentially offending piece, I still go ahead with it, every single time.
Because I want this newsletter to be a place of truth—not with a capital T, but mine and yours and everyone’s in between. I want this newsletter to be a place where you can be true to yourself, your thoughts, your feelings.
The least I can do is be true to mine.
If I hold an unpopular opinion, or feel the need to mention real people in my life to best illustrate a point, I’ll do it. The worry cripples me, but I’ll stubbornly limp along.
The fashionable thing to say would be that I don’t care what people think, that I refuse to be imprisoned by other people’s opinions.
But I do care what people think. I am imprisoned by other people’s opinions.
To say that I don’t care would be a bare-faced lie. But I push through, no matter how uncomfortable or scary. Because I believe in the mission of this newsletter. Because I want to create a space where everyone can come together and truthfully share their thoughts on life—however unpopular they may be.
What do you think?
Do I care what you think about my writing? Absolutely. But what I care about even more is whether I’ve succeeded in making you stop and think today:
Do you care what people think?
Be it at work or in your personal life, do you care? Do you ever find yourself consumed by worry? Are you, like me, at risk of offending on a regular basis? Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I care about hearing from you. If you want, share this with someone who should ask themselves this question.
Until next Friday… Stay thoughtful,
Val
Photo by Ahtziri Lagarde on Unsplash
And hopefully much longer to digest.