Yeah, But

by Dwayne Phillips

This is a practice I recommend for non-fiction writing—especially writing where the writer is attempting to teach good practices.

I have written books and dozens of articles and other things recommending good practices. If you want to accomplish such and such, do this and that and the other thing.

And then I try to toss in the title of this blog post. Yeah, but. Okay, smart guy, if you have all the answers, what about? And there are lots of things I can always list that fit in the what-about category. If I am so smart, why doesn’t my advice work all the time? Why doesn’t my advice work even half the time?

It is at this moment where I try to admit in my writing that my advice, while well meaning and pretty good, flops many times. I don’t have all the answers; I don’t have the answers to many, many questions. No one’s advice has all the answers. There are too many persons involved with too many goals and wishes and dreams and hidden gripes.

I find it worth the time and space on a page to attempt to address the yeah, but statement.

For example, if asking yeah but is such a good practice, why haven’t I asked yeah but about the advice given in this blog post? Well, here it is. Ask yeah, but all the time. Even when the advice is to ask yeah, but. That question fails often. There are occasions when asking it is a waste of time. There are occasions when I should just say it, write it, and do it now!

The building is on fire. Leave now! No debate about yeah, but.

People have spent too much time reading my advice already. No more patience to read my yeah, but section.

Asking yeah, but about a post on yeah, but is too much meta questioning.

There. I cleared the air. I still recommend asking yeah, but…even when the topic is yeah, but.

I trust all this yeah, but hasn’t been too confusing. Yeah, but it is worth it perhaps.