At most digital media companies, reporters aren't really allowed to press publish. There's a thorough editorial process, the digital equivalent of a conveyor belt. Everyone in order has to press a few buttons to move it along. The editor needs to approve it, probably looking for grammatical or stylistic issues. Perhaps another editor needs to take a look. Then a social media person needs to craft the perfect post to ensure virality, that it will get the most eyeballs. Only then does it go back to the editor or off to another senior editor who will hit publish.
Depending on the story this can be fast or slow. The subject matter I wrote about usually fell into the slow category—probably in part thanks to some spelling errors and maybe a misplaced paragraph or two.
I wasn't a trained journalist by any means; I just loved to write. So I didn't really understand the big deal of publishing a few errors here or there. I also had no concept of finishing a draft and then giving myself an editor before finalizing a piece. The words went from brain → keyboard → publishing.
When I started publishing a newsletter in 2019, one of my favorite things to do was to hit publish. It was one of the most thrilling things I could do, an incomparable high. For someone who was deeply invested in their own ego, seeing the views and likes roll in was intoxicating.
Now, the thought of hitting publish gives me borderline crippling anxiety. It's so pronounced that my brain now comes up with excuses to avoid it. "What if it's not good enough? This part can use some more tweaking." "What if everyone hates this and someone quote-tweets it and dunks on me. Or worse, what if no one reads it?"
When people ask me if and when I'll get back to writing, I tell them that I never really stopped.
I still write practically every day. I just don't hit publish.
For a while I'd tell myself that there was no incentive for me. Why bother publishing? For the first time in my adult life I was writing for myself and enjoying it.
More recently something changed. Part of it could be that I think I've been writing some pretty good stuff (I've done a lot of ego work but I'm not a saint.) I'm having to do more cold outreach for work, and I'm getting caught up in my head about it. The other day it took me a whole day to send out 5 LinkedIn messages. I spent the entire time overanalyzing the copy or finding reasons why they wouldn't respond.
Falling out of practice with something is fine if you don't really need it. But I'm realizing that extroversion is a skill that needs to be nurtured and developed, rather than an innate characteristic. I wasn't a particularly extroverted kid, that came in high school and college. It's much more of a learned behavior for me.
For me, publishing is a small but important habit to build back up. The bigger problem isn't in publishing, or putting yourself out there, or whatever else you're worried about. It's letting your skills, and yourself, atrophy into something unrecognizable.