Writing: The Art of Talking Without Getting Cut Off

An article by Vikas Dhall yesterday gave me the cue for this article.

Let me tell you, writing is the ultimate power move for anyone who’s ever been mid-sentence in a conversation and thought, “Am I invisible, or did someone just hit the skip button on me?” Because here’s the thing: when you’re writing, there are no interruptions. No one can swoop in with their “Actually, let me add to that,” or their “Yeah, but here’s what I think.” It’s just you, your thoughts, and a blank page that doesn’t talk back. Bliss.

I mean, have you ever tried to explain a complex idea to a group of people? It’s like a verbal relay race where everyone else keeps grabbing the baton before you’ve even finished your lap. But when I write, oh boy, it’s my turn all the way. No raised eyebrows, no unsolicited advice, no one mispronouncing “genre” like it’s their personal vendetta against the French language. Just me and my unfiltered brilliance—or, you know, my mildly coherent ramblings.

The best part? Writing lets you revise your own words before anyone else gets their grubby little eyes on them. In conversations, you can’t hit backspace when you accidentally blurt out, “I’d love to see your wedding photos” to someone who’s clearly divorced. But in writing, I get to edit out all my social blunders before anyone knows they existed. It’s like a magic eraser for my brain’s occasional lapses in common sense.

And don’t get me started on the drama of group discussions. Have you ever noticed that some people seem to treat conversations like an Olympic sport? They’re out here interrupting like there’s a gold medal for Most Words Spoken in Under Ten Seconds. But when you write, there’s no competition. You’re not battling for airtime or shouting over a chorus of “Let me just say this one thing!” Writing is peaceful. It’s zen. It’s your spotlight, uninterrupted by Murad from accounting who always has a counterpoint.

Another thing about writing: you can pause. Take a break. Stare into the abyss of your coffee cup while trying to find a synonym for “interesting” because, apparently, “interesting” isn’t interesting enough. You can’t do that in real-time conversations without someone waving a hand in your face and saying, “Are you okay? You zoned out for a second there.”

Oh, and let’s not overlook the best perk of writing—no one can derail your train of thought. You know when you’re telling a story, and someone interrupts with, “Wait, was it Tuesday or Wednesday?” and suddenly everyone’s debating the timeline instead of listening to your point? Writing is a one-way ticket to destination Let Me Finish My Thought.

Of course, there’s a catch. Writing means your audience can’t physically hear you, which means they might not catch your chef’s kiss delivery or the sarcasm dripping from your words. But honestly, that’s a small price to pay for the uninterrupted joy of saying exactly what you want to say, exactly how you want to say it.

So here I am, basking in the glory of the written word, where no one can cut me off, talk over me, or derail my genius with their unsolicited opinions. Writing is my sanctuary, my soapbox, my space to let my inner monologue run wild without anyone popping in with their “But actually...”

And if anyone dares to interrupt this article, well... good luck trying. My words are already out there, living their best uninterrupted life.