Writing for Organizers: Start Thinking Out Loud

Some family issues mean instead of the usual Friday “TV Solves Our Organizing Problems,” this week we have a double header of Writing for Organizers. Hope that you’re staying well, with as much calm and clarity as you can find. - H

If you’re anything like me, it takes you forever to write words. Any words.

And if you’re like I am, whenever you have to write for work, you agonize, I mean agonize, about every one of those words.

You delete apostrophes.

You ask your higher-ups to “check the tone “.

You ask someone else to “take a look at it.” 

You demand everyone you’re organizing with do a two hour collaborative messaging workshop.

If you’re lucky, you finally, finally, finish the words, whatever you’re writing. You send it to the fancy higher power media outlet — this is it. These words are finally going to finally change the narrative. The agonizing part was worth it.

And then. 

You wait. And you wait. And you wait. 

If you’re lucky, that submission is going through the exact same process that you yourself just put it through with a bunch of people, undoubtedly a lot of older white people, since that’s who tends to be on the board of mainstream media outlets.

They’re deciding if your words fit their agenda, messaging, brand, all of which, even with the most dedicated power mapping, you have very little chance of grokking the totality of.

If you’re not lucky, your email sits in spam, unchecked by even the most diligent intern, for hours, days, months, years after your campaign is over and even your oldest unentered sign up sheets have crumbled into dust.

Please stop doing this. 

Please. I’m begging you.

Because here’s the thing: your agonizing writing, every single refined and “signed off on” sentence?

They’re fine. 

I mean, sometimes they’re great.

But it takes a lot of freaking energy.

WAY too much energy.

And sometimes, the thing you need to put energy into more than anything is a freaking Op Ed from the stogiest most irrelevant group of old white editorial board men.

But not always.

And sometimes? 

You’ve spent hours throwing out words absolutely 100% integral to figuring out not just what YOU want to say, but what everyone wants to say about your campaign.

You’re throwing out valuable, meaningful thoughts you could be sharing with your base — because you’re afraid they’re not perfect.

And I’m not saying that you shouldn’t be intentional and strategic about what you share on social media.

But I think most organizations, organizers, and political minded people on the left far underestimate the power of their most imperfect thoughts.

And that’s because of fear.

The power of sharing your thoughts, however imperfectly, as you try to figure them out, in partnership with whoever else is online, also trying to figure that out? 

Well, it’s… powerful.

It’s a lot more powerful, not to mention more efficient, then agonizing over a collective Op Ed for days on end.

And it takes less energy trying to find the exact right combination of commas that makes you, your ED, the Editorial Director at the New York Times, the intern at the New York Times, and the guy who actually experienced whatever you’re writing about happy at the same time.

But you know what? 

Writing out loud takes guts.

It takes integrity. 

It takes emotional maturity.

For years, I tried to get organizers and tenets to tweet more, to “shape the online discussion “about whatever we were talking about. I didn’t realize what wasn’t working until I actually started tweeting myself.

And I’m not talking about tweeting like “sharing talking points someone else wrote from the organizational account “or “holding a Townhall power hour #Justice“.

Or any kind of tweet that begins with BREAKING. 

I’m talking about analysis. Thoughts, stories, reflections, things that I came up with, from my brain.

When I started doing that? I was terrified.

Because when you share your ideas, thoughts, and perspective with people in public, as you figure it out? 

You’re going to get things wrong. 

You’re going to fail. 

And sometimes, even if you’re not wrong, you don’t fail, people are going to be upset about what you say.

I’m not talking about trolls, or or even people that you haven’t talked to in years from middle school who voted for Trump and you follow on Facebook for some reason.

I’m talking about reasonable people who you might even admire, who have a different perspective from you. They might not like what you say.

That to me, is what people are actually afraid of when they say that they don’t want to tweet, or do any imperfect, non-committee reviewed writing.

And that, to me, is the real benefit of writing an op ed that 400 people are going to weigh in on before it sees the light of day.

You never actually have to say anything controversial yourself.

—

So — start thinking — not just when you’re writing a painstaking op Ed, but all the time. Out loud.

Preferably, in public.