Why I Write...

…because some truths cannot be spoken in haste.

Over the last few months, a few people have asked, sometimes kindly, sometimes critically, why I spend time writing here on Substack. Some genuinely want to understand; others think it’s a waste of time. So, this is my answer in no particular order.

1. To give a full and clear answer

Whenever I try to explain my ideas in conversation, whether that’s on social media, over instant messages, or in person, I seldom manage to give a full answer. Something always cuts it short. The discussion drifts onto another topic before I can explain what I mean, why I think it, and how I can support it.

There’s also a kind of pressure in those spaces to reply quickly, to keep up with the pace of conversation or the algorithm’s demand for “engagement”. But real answers take time. Thoughtful answers take even longer.

Writing here gives me that time. I can slow down, think properly, and write until I’ve said what I actually mean, without being interrupted halfway through or feeling I have to rush a response. It lets me check that what I’ve written is both clear and understandable, and when needed, I can add the sources or references that support what I’m saying.

2. To give people time to think and engage

It’s connected to the first point. Writing here gives readers the same advantage I get: time. People can read, stop, reread, and think about what’s being said, for as long as they need.

In today’s world, ideas and debates are thrown around at such speed that most people never stop to examine them. Everything becomes about who can make the sharpest comeback, or who can “win” the argument. The goal shifts from finding what’s true to scoring points.

Here, it’s different. You can read at your own pace, take time to digest what’s written, and if you think a response is worth making, you can write one on your own terms. The discussion doesn’t have to happen in real time; it can happen in the space between two thoughtful pieces of writing.

3. To work within my own limitations

I’ve tried debating in person. I’ve tried doing it on social media, and I’ve tried through messaging apps. And in all those settings, I’ve found I can’t produce the quality of argument I expect from myself.

When I write posts or comments on fast-moving platforms, I often have to lean on AI tools just to keep up with the pace of response. But that comes with its own problems: AI can be inaccurate, and even when it isn’t, it can create a distance between me and my own words. That’s not something I want.

I have to recognise where I work best. As Harry Callahan said in Magnum Force, “A man’s got to know his limitations.” This is me doing just that. I know that in writing long-form pieces, where I can take my time, think, and review, I can be far more accurate, thoughtful, and consistent than in a rapid-fire exchange. Long-form writing is simply where I’m strongest.

4. To reach people who genuinely care

One of the things I appreciate most about Substack is that anyone who reads what I write does so entirely by choice. I’m not forcing my words into anyone’s feed or inbox. If someone doesn’t want to engage with my ideas, they don’t have to click. They can leave halfway through if they like, and that’s perfectly fine.

But those who do stay, those who take the time to read what I’ve written, are doing so because they care, or at least because they’re curious. That alone makes a difference.

I also have the freedom to moderate my space. If someone crosses the line, if they’re acting in bad faith, trolling, or just trying to disrupt, I can remove them. I don’t owe anyone a platform in my own house, so to speak.

It’s what I’d call value for value. I write something that I believe has value; you choose whether to give your time and attention in return. If you do, that’s payment enough already. Comments, sharing my work, or even subscribing are all appreciated, but never demanded. I see it as a small example of capitalism at its best: voluntary, honest exchange between people acting by choice.

5. To gain clarity in my own thinking

There’s a saying that the best way to understand an idea is to try to explain it. I’ve found that to be true. Writing forces me to test whether I really understand what I think is true.

Even when few people read, I still gain something from it. When I write, I have to slow down and think carefully about what I actually mean. It forces me to identify gaps, contradictions, or fuzzy thinking that I might otherwise overlook.

Sometimes, writing even reveals lessons I didn’t consciously see until later. For example, in my post A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys, I wrote:

This was the truth Andrew Ryan glimpsed but could not hold: that the real battlefield is not in politics or economics, but in the mind that chooses to think or to evade. He also failed because he did not take morality seriously; otherwise, he would never have allowed Fontaine into Rapture.

At the time, I didn’t fully see the meaning hidden in that last line. Only after rereading it later did I realise what it implied: that Rapture fell because Andrew Ryan lacked a consistent, rational moral code. He loved capitalism and despised collectivism, but that alone wasn’t enough. Without a rational morality to guide him, he allowed in men like Frank Fontaine, men whose ideas and actions would ultimately destroy everything he’d built.

That struck me as a kind of mirror to life itself. If we don’t have a clear, rational moral code in our own minds, we end up letting in, often by accident, the very ideas that lead to our own destruction, whether mental or physical. It’s a lesson I’d heard many times before, but it didn’t fully click until I wrote it down.

That’s another reason I write: sometimes, I discover what I actually think only when I see it on the page in front of me. Writing helps me sort out the noise, identify where I’m right or wrong, and strengthen what I know to be true.

In the end

So that’s why I write here. It’s not about chasing numbers or proving anything to anyone. It’s about thinking clearly, speaking honestly, and doing so in a way that gives both me and my readers time to think.

For now, I’m not asking for anything other than that: a fair reading, a rational engagement, and, hopefully, a thoughtful conversation. Maybe one day, if I reach enough readers, I’ll charge for certain pieces that feel strong enough to stand on their own as something worth paying for.

But for now, I prefer to keep it simple, value for value. If you’ve taken the time to read this, that’s payment enough already. Still, if you want to go a little further, a comment, a share, or a subscription always helps keep things moving.

Either way, thank you for taking the time to read. I appreciate it more than you probably realise.