Notepad and Pen

The Power of Writing a Personal Manifesto

“I don’t chase relevance. I chase resonance.”

—The Quarry and the Flame

I’ve been thinking a lot about manifestos lately.

Not the political kind. Not the manifesto-for-the-brand-deck kind. I’m talking about something messier. Personal. Maybe even a little uncomfortable. It’s the kind of thing you write when you’re tired of editing yourself for the internet and want to say what you mean.

So, yeah—I wrote one. A real one.

It’s called The Quarry and the Flame. Sounds dramatic, I know. But it came from a place that’s about as honest as I get. I’m not trying to be cool. I’m not trying to sell anything. I’m just trying to remember. It’s not the highlight reel stuff either—the quiet moments—the stuff most people scroll past.

I realized I don’t create to impress. I create to document, to bear witness, to say, “Yeah, this happened. This mattered.” even if nobody else cares, even if the only one listening is me.

But here’s the thing: I didn’t know that until I wrote it down. Until I sat with it. Dug it out like a splinter.

That’s funny about writing a manifesto—it makes you answer your bullsh*t. You can’t hide behind a clever bio or half-hearted About Me page. This isn’t branding. It’s confession. Clarification. Maybe even rebellion.

So, now I’m wondering—have you written one?

And I don’t mean a mission statement or a list of things you think people want to hear. I mean something real. Something you’d be embarrassed to read out loud but relieved to have written.

Something that says: Here’s what I believe. Here’s what I’m trying to do. Here’s what I can’t let go of, even if it makes no sense to anyone else.

I get it—it’s easier not to. It’s easier to keep dancing behind the mask and stay in the shallows. But if you ever want to figure out what you’re about, sit down and write it. Even if no one reads it but you.

Who knows? It might explain why you keep picking up the pen, the camera, and the phone. Why do you keep trying?

Or maybe it’ll make you laugh and say, “Wow, I’m a piece of work.”

That’s fine, too.

Thanks for reading. If this stirred something up—or if you’ve written a manifesto of your own—I’d love to hear about it.

What do you believe in enough to write down?

Drop a comment. Or don’t. But at least think about it.

—Jerry