A designer who likes to write

I like to write.

But I’m not a writer.

That might not make sense to most, but I know the limits of my talents. Writing isn’t just about the perfect payoff line or a well-crafted book. For me, it’s a way to get ideas out of my head. A tool to document and structure information. A method of processing thought.

There’s so much power in words, but even more in the act of putting them down, no matter how simple. Spoken words can vanish as quickly as they’re heard. Written ones tend to stick, at least for me. Writing cements things in my mind. If I were a student again, I’d likely write down everything I wanted to learn. Not to make notes, but to make sense of things.

Yes, I write a lot. On paper, in phone notes, in articles and posts. I’m always playing with words, trying to find clever turns of phrase or draw something unexpected from an everyday idea. Sometimes they come out as dad jokes or as others have said, Craig-isms.

But writing for me isn’t about producing polished, publishable work. It’s part of how I think. How I solve. How I observe. It’s why creatives like Leonardo da Vinci kept journals, not for output, but for input. I’ve tried journaling, by the way. But the formality of it distracts me. I get too caught up in how it looks or reads, and I lose the flow. So I don’t journal. I just write when it feels right.

That’s why I say: I’m a designer who likes to write.

But I’m not a writer.

A proper writer has something different. A unique skill set. A kind of clarity and discipline I don’t have. Real writers, those who do it for a living, carry a sense of structure, an understanding of grammar, pause, and punctuation. They have taste. They know when to cut and when to linger. They can do it every day. That’s not me.

Sure, I know what good writing looks like. As a creative director, I can direct the copy. I know how it should feel. I can edit, shape, and sense what works. But that doesn’t make me a writer any more than knowing what makes a good building makes me an architect.

So I don’t offer writing as a service. I leave it to those who can do it on repeat, like they’re breathing. The best of them? Like they’re doing breath work.

It’s the same with code. I can code. Probably better than I can write. Definitely better than most. But I couldn’t do it every day. It doesn’t fill me up in the same way. I don’t have the confidence. Maybe that’s imposter syndrome. Or maybe it’s just knowing who I am.

I’m not a writer. I’m not a coder.

I’m a designer.

A designer who likes to write.