I don’t publish good articles. I don’t share good photographs. I don’t release good podcasts or good radio programs.
At least, I don’t call them good. If others want to comment on their quality, that’s up to them.
Instead, I post commentaries and images and programs I am happy with. I share the items I feel comfortable releasing. Sometimes, within a much larger library of potential selections, they are my favorites.
The longer I publish, the less confident I feel evaluating the quality of my own work. Is it good? I don’t know for sure, but I know I’m happy with most of it.
I’m not trying to insulate myself from criticism with this choice of words. I’m trying to be more accurate.
I started speaking this way about my photography, in particular, when I began posting a “best of” gallery every year in December. Well, the word “best” was in my working title, but I didn’t know if they were the best, so I changed it to favorite.
My analysis of my own creativity has changed over the years too. I feel differently about radio programs I was happy airing five years ago. I’ve learned a lot in those years. I say things in a different way now. I would choose to make other points if I was doing the same show today.
My writing has also changed. I don’t know if it’s better now, I just know I have a different style. I’m still happy with some of the older stuff, but I’m even happier with the new stuff.
This is why I’m uncomfortable with common practices on platforms like LinkedIn, where people regularly categorize and classify their own work. Many make claims about its quality or its ranking within their industries. This is something I try to avoid, only knowing (for sure) I’m satisfied with it at the time of its release.
There are things I do know for sure. I put in the work. I spent hours in the jungle, in the rain, in the mud, in the heat, trying new compositions. I hiked to remote places. My cameras and lenses got wet and sandy, and I even wore out a pair of hiking boots.
I know I was consistent. I wrote hundreds of words a day, thousands of words a week, which I edited, reedited, read, reread, trimmed, and even deleted completely.
And I know I was learning. I made mistakes recording, mistakes in my presentation, volumes and final mixes haven’t always been right. But I looked for advice on how to fix it – and I took that advice.
I don’t know how I will feel about this commentary a few years from now. Will I learn a better way of describing this? Maybe. At the moment, I think what I’ve written might help someone consider how they should feel about their own creativity. So…I’m happy with it.