I couldn’t do Twitter for the longest time. Years, actually. I couldn’t force myself to be concise enough to finish a thought before running out of characters.
It’s important to me, though, to be concise. Or rather, it’s important for me to know how and when to be concise. Being long-winded has its place, but that place isn’t everywhere.
Some people enjoy books and articles padded by copious amounts of fluff. I don’t, and I cringe when I catch myself in the act of writing a ten-minute keyboard solo(We’re talking the extended version of Light My Fire, here)of a paragraph that could’ve had the same impact with far fewer words used.
Twitter forces me out of my comfort zone, because I like to scoop up words by the bucketful and dump them all over the place. Writers often demonstrate a propensity for using big, flowery words when they aren’t necessary. I’m guilty of this offense myself, at times, and it’s a behavior rooted in insecurity.
Will people think I’m dumb or a bad writer if I don’t use more BIG WORDS?
Well, if you’re trying to impress me with your vast vocabulary, not only have you failed, but you’ve lost my interest and I’ve fallen asleep. You’re trying too hard, and it shows. Tell what needs to be told, and don’t linger.
My goal for this post was to make some kind of profound statement using only 140 characters, but I’ve obviously failed, so let’s try this again: