I Found the Key to Authentic Writing in a Beaten Up Table
Wisdom on creating a style that no one can replicate
I spent the afternoon yesterday living the dream.
Playing golf? Going to a top restaurant? Driving around in my rare edition Lamborghini that happens to look like a Ford Focus? The answer is more enthralling than all of those combined.
Sanding a table.
I even got to whip out my electric sander which I haven’t used for a little while. Glorious stuff. Now, to most people, this sounds like a gruelling, arduous task. Why would I be sanding a table? Surely if I wanted to get a good-looking table I’d just head on down to IKEA and swoop up the latest trend, right?
Well unfortunately IKEA doesn’t have this table.
So, why this table? Why not the jazzy green IKEA unit with cool revolving shelves for maximum space optimisation?
This table belonged to my father-in-law who sadly passed away in January. He was 55. It came out of nowhere. I entered 2023 with an insatiable energy to conquer my dreams of the year. 3 days in, I was experiencing a pain that I still can’t process into words. He was one of Life’s good ones. Kind, courteous, hard-working. He worked in the trades and had helped my girlfriend and I start our renovations on our house when we moved to Portugal 3 years prior. I called him my father-in-law even though my girlfriend and I aren’t yet married. Now, I’ll never get the chance to ask him for that special permission. I was and still am heartbroken.
This was the console table on which he had pictures of my girlfriend and her brother. When it came time to clean out his apartment, my girlfriend paused.
“I want to keep this.”
She had the idea of bringing the table up to date with a fresh lick of paint, but not just to be used as a side table. We wanted to use it as a small shrine to her Dad. We thought we could keep a few photos of him in the way he did of her. A couple of candles to be lit when the occasion calls for it.
No IKEA table would suffice.
I think IKEA is actually a perfect metaphor for template writing online.
I have no problem with IKEA. I’ve built my walk-in wardrobe using their stock. My kitchen chairs are from there. I make a point of going there every once in a while just to eat those annoyingly good meatballs of which you can never quite shake the taste.
However, imagine you built your entire house out of IKEA furniture. You would have a pristine replica of something straight from a catalogue. Something that someone else can swoop in and replicate down to the exact detail. This is what you’re in danger of doing if you follow templates to write.
You become imitable and replaceable.
Yes, of course, borrow a template here and there because they work for a reason. It would be dumb to ignore what is working. But you also should make sure you don’t become another showroom for a catalogue.
Tell that story about the time you struck up a conversation with the elderly gentleman waiting for his train.
Tell the world about some advice you saw from one of your favourite writers and you actually disagree with it.
Tell the tale of when you got lost on the road to Paris and had to ask some locals for directions, who ended up becoming lifelong friends.
These are things that no one can replicate. Your unique outlook. Your way of viewing the world. The importance you place on certain elements. The experiences that you throw yourself into willingly in spite of uncertainty and fear. It’s when you allow this side of yourself to be unleashed that you start to create a magnetism around you. One that people keep coming back to, like a rush from a drug. Your energy is infectious, irreplaceable, and inimitable. All because you choose not to follow the herd. You choose authentic stories over quick dopamine fixes. You choose curiosity over compliance.
Sometimes, a beat-up corner table is worth more than any pristine factory piece.
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