If it's good enough to say once ...
... it's good enough to say again.
I have noticed this trend in LinkedIn and other platforms, among questions asked by newbies, and in my own posts as I wrack my brain for something new to say. Repetition can build or crush.
Like arm curls with weights, repetition can build strength and skill. No one begins any craft or career as an expert. Animal trainers fully understand the value of consistent repetition: apply this cue until the desire action occurs and then reward. Lather, rinse, repeat until the association of command to action is ingrained. We do the same with children, whether it's toilet training or drilling multiplication tables.
Although learning drills have gone out of fashion, it does build a solid foundation of basic knowledge or skill that can withstand the weight of coming years of construction. From "whole language" to other instructional fads, drills imbue the basic knowledge and capability that society deems necessary to function as a citizen.
Like a sledgehammer on rock, however, repetition can also crush, not always in a physical sense. For instance, I participated for several months in an online writers group. Newcomers to the group and to publishing constantly asked the same questions. My patience thinned. My irritation grew. These people expected experts with hard-won knowledge to simply hand it over with a smile. They asked questions that hadn't changed since I embarked upon the journey to publication--long before the internet was available.
What annoyed me the most was that these people couldn't be bothered to do their own research. The attitude of entitlement ("I want to know/do something and it's your obligation to tell/teach me") ruffled my feathers. Requests encompassed everything from topics ("Where can I get story ideas?") to publication venues ("How do I get my work published?"). They asked others to write their books, do their research, and more.
Like that sledgehammer, I found the weight of their entitlement crushing and withdrew from the group. I did my own research, spent time in the library, bought the guides, and put in countless hours of hard work to refine my craft. I expected anyone else to do much the same.
Finally, there's a certain element of repetition that occurs within those who offer advice and insight, to wit: "Learn from my experience." This repetition underscores the commonality of our experience. I find the trends interesting.
A history teacher once mentioned that he believed public service announcements and public mottos didn't necessary reflect a culture's values, but the values absent from a culture that its leaders wished to instill within their people, whether that be courage, a stiff upper lip, or treating employees with decency.
That commonality of experience and among topics of discussion illustrate one thing: little (or nothing) is truly new and unique. Originality arises from the individual, not the experience.
Every word counts.