Social media has transformed the way we share ideas. With just a few keystrokes, anyone can comment on national issues, spark debate, or provide valuable insights that inform public opinion and even research. Platforms now teem with endless discussions—political, professional, and personal. Yet, ironically, those who contribute frequently are often dismissed with a casual jab: “You write too much.” But let’s be honest—what people mean is that you talk too much, only this time, in text.
This label isn’t usually worn as a badge of honour. It often carries a subtle note of contempt. Some say it proudly: “I don’t post much on social media.” But these same people scroll endlessly through their feeds, silently relying on others to keep them informed and entertained. There’s something contradictory—almost hypocritical—about scorning those who provide the very content they consume.
A writer once observed that many people are more comfortable being over-readers than being seen as over-posters. This observation cuts deep: it exposes how people often prefer the safety of the sidelines to the vulnerability of expression. They rely on the voices of others, but shrink from raising their own.
Let’s set the record straight—writing too much is not the same as talking too much. They differ in nature, purpose, and effect.
Talking too much, especially in situations where silence might be golden, can be seen as intrusive or even thoughtless. We’ve all met people who speak endlessly, driven more by compulsion than clarity. While some admire the constant buzz of extroverts, it’s almost universally agreed that speaking without purpose—repeating, exaggerating, and interrupting—often leads to miscommunication, boredom, or worse, misinformation. And because speaking often requires immediate responses, it tends to bypass reflection. The result? Shallow thoughts dressed in a confident tone.
Writing, on the other hand, demands thought. Even in casual chats, there’s a moment—however brief—when the mind edits, considers, and composes. That pause invites clarity. It nurtures emotional balance and precision. Writing allows us to refine our ideas, weigh our emotions, and communicate with deliberate impact.
One of the hallmarks of great leadership is the ability to make wise, spontaneous decisions—judgments not bound by routine or precedent. This kind of mental agility is nurtured not by idle chatter but by deep thinking. And deep thinking finds its perfect companion in writing.
Unlike talk, which vanishes into air, writing leaves a trace. It’s accountable. It invites critique. And because of that, it pushes us to be better. As Professor Farooq Kperogi once joked on Facebook:
> “The best proofreading tip I have ever discovered? Post your writing publicly. Let the whole world see it. Then bam, you spot a typo the size of Mount Everest. Works every time. Nothing sharpens you like public humiliation.”
His point is as hilarious as it is profound. The fear of public error can be a powerful teacher. Many writers admit they’ve grown stronger through exposure, not silence. Mistakes become stepping stones. Judgment refines skill. And courage—yes, courage—is what separates the writer from the reader.
Personally, I used to believe that substance trumped style. That as long as my thoughts were clear, grammar could be forgiven. And while there’s some truth in that, I’ve come to appreciate how form also shapes meaning. Especially for those of us juggling full-time jobs but still driven to share insights, the focus should remain on expression—on being understood—not perfection.
Communication is a two-way street. While the writer bears the burden of clarity, the reader also carries the responsibility of comprehension. Minor errors shouldn’t eclipse the message. What matters is connection—did the words spark thought, ignite debate, or move someone to act?
Engaging in group chats, debates, and online conversations is more than a pastime—it’s a mental gym. These platforms hone imagination, sharpen reasoning, and refine emotional intelligence. No one dashes off even a casual sentence without, at some level, crafting it. That act of writing builds thinkers.
It’s no coincidence that many of the most respected writers and intellectuals are introverts. They don’t speak loudly or often, but when they write, the world listens. Think of Prof. Farooq Kperogi, Gimba Kakanda, Mohammed Haruna, Mahmud Jega, Chimamanda Adichie, and Chinua Achebe. Their voices ring with power—not because they dominate conversation, but because they master reflection. Their quiet lives create the space for loud thoughts.
I’m reminded of Dr. Abdullahi Ndagi Sule Sarki, known as Amana Nupe, who has authored over 1,000 deeply researched works. Humble and reserved, he embodies how silence can birth brilliance. Or Dr. Ibraheem Dooba, who has published ten acclaimed books—another testament to the power of discipline, not dominance. These are individuals who share their thoughts not because they seek praise, but because they believe in the value of public discourse.
People who write don’t claim to know more—they simply dare to be wrong in public. They open themselves to scrutiny, critique, and correction. That risk makes them stronger. In fact, it forces them to seek facts, to verify claims, and to think clearly—because the penalty for carelessness is exposure.
And let’s not forget the unsung heroes—the group admins like Sa’adu Nupechi and Ede Moses—who keep conversations alive with news, reflections, and commentary, often without recognition or reward. Their dedication keeps communities informed, inspired, and connected.
Research backs this up. Studies show that debate and discourse are essential for intellectual development. Engaging in dialogue enhances critical thinking (Kuhn, 2010), promotes deeper understanding (Habermas, 1984), and encourages empathy through exposure to diverse views (Bakhtin, 1981). Constructing arguments, responding to opposition, and refining one’s stance are all part of this vital process (Toulmin, 1958). It’s not just conversation—it’s growth.
In the end, writing too much is not a flaw. It’s a craft. It’s courage. It’s a commitment to clarity in a noisy world. And those who dare to write—frequently, passionately, publicly—are not over-talkers. They are thinkers, builders, and makers of meaning.
Mohammed can be reached at bagudumohammed15197@gmail.com and 07034943575
