Thursday 13

What Writing Online Has Taught Me

1. Tone is a slippery beast. Even punctuation can steer a reader’s entire interpretation. It's not just about word choice; it’s the undercurrent of mood and intent. Online, it's shaped as much by what you leave unsaid as what you emphasize. White space matters, too.

2. People read with their own story in mind. When I write for this blog, I know I'm not just writing for myself. My words are filtered through however many eyes view it. Every reader brings a unique lens, colored by their past, their mood, their assumptions. What feels universal to me might land as deeply personal to someone else. Or they may not get it at all.

3. Silence is feedback too. A post that gets crickets might still echo in someone’s head. Lack of response doesn’t mean lack of impact. Sometimes quiet is how people process resonance. I know I have read blog posts that I haven't commented on but I have still thought about later.

4. Readers remember how you made them feel, not how clever you were. Cleverness may impress but feeling builds connection. That emotional trace is what lingers. However, I do like to be clever on occasion.

5. Most comments reflect more about the commenter than the content. Engagement is often projection. It can be affirmation, resistance, curiosity, or even loneliness disguised as critique. I comment sometimes just to say, "I was here."

6. “Delete” is underrated as a creative tool. Deletion isn’t failure—it’s refinement. It makes room for clarity, authenticity, and sometimes mercy. Occasionally, a post is just bad and needs to come down.

7. There’s power in a slow, quiet post that doesn’t try to trend. Slowness invites depth. And quiet writing resists the urgency of clickbait culture. Choose intimacy over impact, though I never know how that may land.

8. The internet doesn’t forget, but people do. I try to write about things worth remembering, even if I'm the only one who will remember. The idea of digital permanence can be misleading. Human memory is fallible, selective, and emotional.

9. A typo won’t kill you, but a dishonest tone might. Small errors are forgivable. What readers sense instinctively is whether you’re being real. I try to always be real, but I also know I hold back sometimes.

10. Nostalgia hits harder online. It turns writing into collective memory. When I evoke the past, I am inviting invite others to remember their own.

11. Posting is an act of hope. Every time. Hitting publish is a belief that someone is listening, that words still matter, that connection is possible. I still don't know if anyone will read my posts, but the stats count tells me people do. I am grateful that people find something in my words.

12. The algorithm is not your muse. It does, however, love drama and bullet points. Algorithms reward attention, not integrity. Hopefully my muse brings something deeper, such as truth, curiosity, or joy.

13. Writing for applause is a soul drain. Write for resonance. Resonance isn’t just agreement; it’s that hum beneath the words when someone reads and thinks, “I feel seen.” It’s an emotional echo, a shared vibration between writer and reader, even if they never meet or respond. It means someone else thinks the way I do.

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Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while, and this is my 918th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.