Written for one reader

After a good dinner in Beirut, a visitor sits down to write about the place, and the first draft is for nobody.

It says the food was delicious, the service attentive, the atmosphere lovely, highly recommended. Every word is true. Not one of them will help anyone decide anything, because it was written to be read by the whole world, and the whole world does not read.

Then a friend in Riyadh messages him. She is flying in next month with her mother, who does not eat spicy food, walks slowly, and has been nervous about the trip. Where should they eat?

His reply is completely different. He tells her to ask for the table by the window downstairs, so there are no steps. He tells her which dishes are mild and which one her mother will probably love because it tastes like home cooking. He tells her the waiter will try to bring too much and it is fine to say no. He tells her to go on a weekday, when it is calmer.

That second piece of writing is better in every way, and the reason is simple. He knew exactly who would read it. He knew what she was worried about and what would make her say yes.

Writing for everyone feels generous. It feels like reaching more people. In practice it reaches nobody in particular, so it moves nobody at all.

The useful question before writing anything is not how many people might see it. It is which one person it is for, and what she needs to hear.