The other day, I wrote a blog post for work that used the word “awesome” three times in three paragraphs.
I was grateful for the colleagues who pointed it out, ever so gently, even as I imagine they were gagging onto their keyboards. I was also fully willing to say “Yeah, that was BAD writing.”
But sometimes, I do good writing. Maybe 10% of that writing ever makes it into actual public circulation. After all, it has to be edited, approved, rewritten, and, more often than not, tempered so as not to offend anyone.
Usually, I can accept this as the nature of a job in non-profit marketing. I mean, if I couldn’t accept it, I’d have lost my mind a long time ago.
But once in a great while, I simply lose all ability to accept it, and I fantasize about saying, out loud, that editing the fun or hope or vision from my words kills a little piece of my soul.
Yeah, I know…melodramatic much?
I suspect my colleagues know I feel this way, and because their heads are cooler than mine, they are secure in the belief that my need to fun or hope or vision is trumped by the need to be safe.
Because safety, well, it’s not likely to get you hurt.
But it’s also not likely to get you to the top of the mountain, where the air is clearest and your heart beats faster and anything is possible.
Up there, the right words might just make a difference.