Why I show up everyday. The peddle, podium, creators and us.
If you are interested in why I started this newsletter and what I learned from it so far, this essay is for you.
If you are interested in why I started this newsletter and what I learned from it so far, this essay is for you.
A story of a writing boy
In a wooden library of an elementary school, a boy buried himself in the jungle of book. He started writing at around 7 years old. After reading the first book of Eragon, he decided to have his own story. He wrote every day, singing the tale of dragons and their riders, flying through the sky and solving various issues within an empire. In hindsight, the story was an imitation; the boy had almost copied and pasted the original Eragon story into his writing.
In junior high school, unlike the friendly environment of his elementary school, children had become more aggressive and sought someone on whom to unleash their anger. His classmates would steal his notebook and loudly read it on stage, in front of the entire class, laughing about how bad his writing was. Although it was a traumatic event, he didn't stop writing.
He left his small town and went to one of the biggest cities in Taiwan. In this new school, he finally met many people who loved to read. But he didn't desperately seek out kindred spirits; over the years of being bullied, writing had become a very private thing for him. Most of the time, he hid behind a veil, writing quietly.
It wasn't until university that the ambition of being seen and read was finally ignited. But the journey was far more troubling than he had imagined. He couldn't finish any story, and even his short stories remained superficial. Moreover, he discovered he wasn't good at creating plots.
He didn't excel at story writing, and his public writing didn't match his expectations. His close friends always praised his skill and encouraged him to write more, but in general, they all thought his essays were not engaging to read.
The transformation came late, at age 27—almost 20 years after he started writing—when he came across Larry McEnerney's famous lecture. One idea struck him hard, so hard that he stopped writing for quite a while. The professor's words stabbed into his core: "You should not use your writing for yourself to think."
Yes, the boy had always used writing as a tool for thinking, a way where his chain of thought had formed. At first glance, this advice might seem strange. Isn't writing a way to cultivate and clarify ideas? But for McEnerney, that wasn't enough.
Writing is not convey your idea to your reader, is changing their idea ... Anything you write have a function helping your reader to understand something they want to understand it well.
Using writing to think will make you deviate from this goal. Readers become confused by your thinking process and lose interest when the underlying message loses focus. If you're famous, readers might indulge your meandering thoughts, but for those just starting out, maintaining reader engagement is challenging.
The boy begin to question the foundation of his writing.
Why I start to write this newsletter
That was about half a year after watching Larry McEnerney's video. I understood the underlying problem and wrote something based on his suggestions, but I still couldn't find my unique voice. I put long-used methods aside and stepped into an unknown realm. Although there were some hints ahead, the road was still shrouded in mist. I sensed I was close to something transformative—so close, yet unable to grasp it.
Around that time, I began reading "10x is Easier than 2x". In the book I learned one thing.
I couldn't continue my previous approach and hope for recognition. To achieve a 10x result, I needed to fundamentally change my method. I couldn't blindly write something serving my mood, inconsistently and lack of a community. I need to write with a vision. And it needs to be somewhere unique, something that only belongs to me, not just the narrative, the tone, the rhyme, everything that comes together as a whole. A new style.
I began examining my life: what I had written before, my passions, and the vision I wanted for my future. These were challenging questions. The first thing I discovered was my love for consistency. For a long time, I've preferred long-form novels over short ones, enjoyed unconventional three-act movies, and found joy in writing lengthy essays and long stories. This was my strength—the ability to endure the tedious creative process that few can bear. Sitting at my desk not just for four hours, but every single day, writing consistently. This is what I am good at.
I'm also skilled at connecting seemingly unrelated things. I read widely across fiction, self-help, business, philosophy, and science. Over the years, I've questioned whether my broad interests were a weakness—spread too wide and not deep enough. This uncertainty troubled me until I read David Epstein's "Range". He shared stories of people building unique and useful insights by connecting disparate dots. The concept literally exploded my mind with joy. I could finally view my nature as a gift rather than a curse. I realized that having a broad range of interests and continually seeking connections is a valuable way to navigate an increasingly complex world.
Even so, I was still lacking a clear vision of what I wanted my life to look like in ten years. This began to take shape with a significant personal transformation in late 2023. I started diving into social media, seeking connections rather than just information. This was a massive shift for me—a formerly shy person who struggled with social interactions. Inspired by my partner, I began cultivating the ability to form casual connections, discovering the beauty of meaningful interactions and how conversations can benefit both parties.
I started to imagine: What if I could connect with people worldwide and find interconnected dots that relate to my work?
This is when my vision began to unfold. Blending ambition, the pursuit of 10x results, consistency, and uniqueness, I decided to create a monthly newsletter. It would span 10 years, containing exactly 120 letters—no more, no less. The newsletter would explore connections across various fields, centered around creativity. I envision myself in ten years: having started companies, engaging with diverse creators, forming deep connections, and writing essays that breathe fresh air into this community.
What I learned so far from writing the first four newsletters
In 2024, I wrote four newsletter:
Appreciation is scarce
Analog Renaissance: Why Novels Are More Important Than Ever in Our Digital Lives
Explorer Mindset - In a world where algorithms decide what we see, how can we rediscover the joy of unexpected discoveries?
It's never too late - The most dangerous creative block isn't lack of talent—it's the myth that you've missed your window.
With these newsletters written, I learned several valuable insights worth sharing.
The structure of writing
Through these four essays, I began to develop a writing structure that pushes me to think deeply before putting pen to paper. The process involves several thinking frameworks, starting with identifying the core message. After selecting the message, I engage with different AI models (primarily Claude) to generate various titles, which helps me uncover underlying narratives worth exploring. Then, I search my story bank for figures or anecdotes that can illustrate the message. Only after thorough preparation do I begin outlining the essay, and I only start writing when I'm satisfied with the outline.
With this structured approach, I found myself less preoccupied with what to write during the actual writing process. As a result, my writing became more readable and navigable, using simple, accessible language without unnecessary ornamentation.
Chinese and English writing
I began serious English writing in 2023, and it truly transformed my perspective on writing. When writing in Chinese, I typically focused more on words, sentences, and metaphors, searching for exceptional word combinations and pushing emotional boundaries.
The result was that my Chinese writing often read like a novel, even in essay form—too ornate for many readers. After taking Professor Larry McEnerney's course, I started experimenting with his methods in my English writing. I now focus on structure, rhythm, and tone, avoiding an ornate style while pouring my entire heart into crafting the message.
The sweet spot of writing
Writing monthly is exactly the sweet spot for me, with several components beautifully converging.
In his book "Flow," Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi discusses a crucial requirement for entering a state of flow: knowing you're performing a task at the edge of your abilities. This is critical not only for focus but also for learning. Standing on this edge keeps you vigilant, while the thrill of potentially falling drives you to feel alive and actively learn new skills to maintain your balance.
For me, a monthly newsletter is no simple task. Beyond my daily work, I need uninterrupted moments to fully immerse myself in writing. I must consistently seek inspiration, connect my learnings, and produce high-quality output. Yet, it drives me toward excellence—each newsletter is a brand new experiment exploring topics I haven't addressed before. I love it.
Another aspect resonates with the book "Slow Productivity." Cal Newport suggests that to persist, one must consider their calling on a longer scale:
Do fewer things: I chose a monthly newsletter over a weekly one.
Work at a Natural Pace: Drawing from writing several long novels, I'm familiar with daily writing and slowly maturing the outcome.
Obsess Over Quality: I will only write 120 newsletters in 10 years. Quality is the single most important aspect of this journey. From topic to narrative, each essay must withstand the test of time.
I truly believe this lifestyle makes me happier.
Looking forward
There are several things I would like to put a mark upon in the year 2025.
Focus on the peddle, not the podium
Part of our motivation is driven by the dopamine rush of success. We tend to keep moving when we see results and feel happy, and many of us abandon our progress when we don't. This year, I want to play a long-term game. I will focus on a single metric: my open rate—not subscriber counts, not views, but purely open rate. The higher it goes, the more confidently I can say my newsletter provides value to someone.
Beyond this metric, I won't abandon my journey even if I feel unrecognized. I will continue writing and stay committed to this path.
Focus on the pedal, not the podium.
About the style and the way of saying
I'm not overly concerned with finding a definitive style. True writing uniqueness emerges from one's own essence. In the coming year, I want to step outside my comfort zone and explore new territories. Although these explorations might seem unrelated to my newsletter, but everything is interconnected. The insights I gather from every corner will eventually weave into my writing.
And gradually, a style will form. I want to remind myself: ten years is a long journey. Don't get stuck in a single style. When you develop a new approach, embrace it, feel it, and then be willing to tear it down.
Creator and creation
I will always remember that people are what truly matter. Creation itself springs from creators, and it's their hard work that shapes the world we live in today. I can't just focus on the creation while leaving the creators in the background. With this mindset, I want to connect with more creators. This newsletter will serve as a bridge, introducing others to remarkable individuals.
I will introduce a recommendation section at the end of each newsletter, highlighting the brilliant creators I encounter. Let's keep this positive cycle moving forward.
End note
In the end, I want to express my deepest gratitude. Thank you for joining me on this ten-year journey, for opening the newsletter each month, for reading my words, and for your unwavering support. I sincerely hope that by reading my essays, you'll find hope, enthusiasm, and a deep love for this wonderful world.
Let's celebrate the new year, gather, and prosper.
Thanks
Thanks Jonathan, Jimmy, Lucy, Shaka for reading the draft of this article. I can not make this far without your help.