Slowness gives the advantage of clairvoyance. Clairvoyance tricks the reader into thinking that the writer pulled a great sentence out of thin air. But behind the trick is a writer who took the time to look behind the curtains.
The slowest writers see what we don’t see. And we don’t see what the slowest writers see because we’re often sticking our head out the window of a speeding car.
Slow writers ask themselves what they think. What are the facts about my subjective experience? How do I feel about this? Is this how I think about this, or is someone else thinking this through me?
Slow writers also ask themselves why they think what they think. They delve into their personal history. They explore alternatives, weigh both sides of an argument, and consult with trusted friends for holes in the narrative.
Slow writers do all this extra work because the first inclination rarely provides a robust explanation.
Slow writers write the quickest.