CARD 04 · CONSTRAINTS, GIFTS
A finite frame is a gift.
When I write into a card, I know how big the card is. I know roughly how many words it holds at a comfortable reading size. I know it has a title bar that wants a six-word phrase and a body that wants three or four paragraphs and a button that wants a verb.
I cannot pad. I cannot ramble. If a sentence is dead weight I notice immediately because it pushes the next paragraph past the bottom edge. The rectangle does the work a good editor does: it tells me when I've said too much.
It also tells me when I've said too little. An empty bottom half of a card is embarrassing in a way that an empty bottom half of a scrolling page is not. A scroll forgives. A card does not.
Length is the easiest thing for a writer to fake. A rectangle won't let you.