To me, there's something romantic and aspirational about writing, or moreover, being a writer.
The act of writing is difficult and drudgerous.
Being a writer is status; mastery of narrative and deliberate communication.

Like most ambitions, you want the end result, and like most end results, the path to get there is fraught with tedious, fruitless work and and a distinct absence of guarantees.
And it's immediately obvious that wanting to be a writer and not wanting to write seems disingenuous or misguided.

It's not that I don't want to write, but that as I've lamented already, writing is hard. I've always been quite comfortable talking to think.
Often, when I've start talking I've ended up resolving the original concern without any input from the other person, because for me, talking is thinking.
But being a talker, a yapper, pushes the burden of carrying all those words and thoughts onto the other party. It's a bit indolent.

Talking is quantity of shots taken with little regard for on-target percentage.
Writing is only shots on-target.

Talking is machine gunning.
Writing is sniping.

Talking is a flood, a blanket.
Writing is precise, surgical.

But here I am. Trying to write.
On a little hand carved boat in the ever expanding ocean of the internet, I'm going to put a note or two in a bottle.

Not shouting into the abyss, but rather tossing in a letter.