An Argument for Craftsmanship

Over the past half-decade or so, there have been a number of new podcast and video recording softwares that offer a unique and novel workflow.

They transcribe what’s said and present it as an editable document. If you delete a word, the software will remove that word from the audio and video track. They note where the pauses and silences are in your conversation, and allow you to take them out just by hitting backspace.

It’s a neat concept, one that significantly lowers the barrier to production for folks who don’t have any audio or video editing skills.

But if you listen to or watch something that’s been edited this way, it can seem a little jagged.

The gaps where words were removed are noticeable. The video might focus on someone who isn’t speaking. The subtitles might not be arranged particularly well.

None of these are major issues, especially if you know you’re delivering value to your audience. Even published books will have the occasional typo.

And, perfection is the enemy of progress - make something as good as you can, and then release it.

But there’s a difference between “as good as you can” and “good enough” - and “good enough” is often just exporting what the software generates for you, without making an attempt to improve on it.

Treating material as the result, instead of being curious and wanting to learn about the process to get that result.

Anyone can put together a podcast with these platforms - but what does that teach them about audio quality, equalization, or waveform matching?

Anyone can generate an image - but what does that teach them about composition, lighting, or contrast?

For some, the result might be enough.

But the only thing being learned is how to get that result in that one specific way.

A way with no space to learn, or develop skills to help you create something without it.

A way with no room for intentionality, heart or soul.

You may get what you want (or close enough to it), but you rob yourself of the joy of the creative act.

Because even if no one ever sees it, the time and effort and care you put into making something has meaning - and it matters.