Imagine this.
You’re out and about, doing a few errands, when suddenly, a brilliant idea for your next article/short story/poem/essay/thinkpiece/novel/uncategorizable work of genius hits you.
You’re breathless with delight and quickly scribble down a reminder to yourself — this one is not going to get away. People are going to LOVE reading this.
You are filled with enthusiasm, accidentally shoplifting a few groceries as you daydream about your subheadings and the exact angle you’ll take in the conclusion.
So far, so good.
However, as you come out of the shop, you run into a good friend, someone you admire and enjoy while also being secretly scared they might be a tiny bit better than you.
Great articles come in all shapes and sizes, from transient internet lists to verbose, lengthy musings in the London Review of Books.
Truly engaging articles, however, don’t happen by accident.
The mark of a great piece of engaging content (for our purposes here, at least) is not how long it is, how fancy the language is, how qualified the author is, or how technical the subject matter is. It’s how the reader feels while (and after) they read it.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that non-fiction is worthy reading, teaching us useful facts and making us more knowledgeable, and therefore more awesome.
Fiction, on the other hand, is good only for escapism, for relaxing from the trials of our more taxing reading, and for recharging our batteries, perhaps. Lesser mortals may indulge in fiction, but the truly driven will pave their road to success with the noble volumes of non-fiction.
Right?
Wrong.
The joys of being a digital nomad aren’t always all they’re cracked up to be.
Just as many people post pictures on Facebook that try and project an ideal life (no one really stops to take photos during horrible arguments, despairing money moments, or bedridden existential crises, do they?), so too do we often hold an ideal image of what working life outside of the nine-to-five will look like.