The case against starting a personal blog in 2026 writes itself. Nobody reads blogs. Attention has migrated to short-form video and algorithmic feeds. Long-form writing on the open web feels like sending letters by carrier pigeon. And yet.

Why bother

The honest answer is that I write better when I think someone might read it. Not a big audience — just the theoretical possibility of an audience. Notes to myself stay sloppy. Posts, even on a site nobody visits, get a second draft.

There’s also something about ownership. I’ve written things on platforms that no longer exist, or that changed their terms in ways that made staying uncomfortable. A static site on a host I control isn’t going anywhere unless I let it.

The form itself

The blog post is an underrated format. Long enough to actually develop an idea, short enough that you can’t hide behind length. No algorithm to optimize for. No engagement metrics staring back at you. Just the words and whether they say what you meant.

I like that blog posts can be inconclusive. An essay has to arrive somewhere. A post can just be thinking out loud, which is most of what I want to do here.

What I expect to happen

Probably: I post inconsistently for a few months, then either find a rhythm or quietly let it go. Either outcome is fine. The point is to try, not to maintain a perfect publishing schedule. If a post is useful to someone who finds it via search, that’s a bonus.

For now, the cursor is blinking and there are words on the page. That’s enough.