Writing for Myself
This piece explores the original intention behind writing, the relationship between self-exploration and feedback from others, and how to stay authentic and consistent in the writing process.
Lately, I've slipped into a state of emptiness. I've lost the desire to write things that sound like they're preaching. A voice in my head keeps asking: Who am I to lecture others? How can I be so sure my reasoning is correct?
So I added a blog section to my personal homepage, dedicated to recording my tinkering experiences — tech guides, tutorials, and the like. These things are products of a world governed by logic: right is right, wrong is wrong, fully verifiable. Unlike the messy, disordered real world, where looking at the same thing from a different angle always yields a plausible explanation, and right and wrong are impossible to distinguish.
I used to comfort myself by saying that writing these somewhat contemplative pieces was an act of self-discovery — using words as a tool to repeatedly examine my own ideas, perhaps eventually arriving at truths that sit a little closer to reality.
But I gradually realized this was just an excuse. Self-exploration was only a small part of the motivation. What I really seemed to want was attention.
The most obvious symptom: after finishing a post, I'd share it across every social platform I use. If lots of people read it, I'd feel energized and eager to write more. If few did, I'd feel a twinge of disappointment.
This clearly treats writing as an outward-facing product, constantly testing whether users will like the latest feature. In product-thinking terms, this is actually a healthy mindset — at least not a terrible one. But it seems to betray my original intention.
Self-exploration and product-building seem to follow opposite logics. Building a product means constantly probing and analyzing user behavior. Self-exploration is more about discovering what you yourself like. Of course, we need sufficient understanding of the world before we can make sound judgments in our exploration, and that understanding does require enough interaction with others.
A thousand readers yield a thousand Hamlets. But the story of Hamlet is singular — what differs is each person's perspective and preferences. Understanding the world means understanding the story of Hamlet. Self-exploration means finding your own preferences and your own angle without too much internal contradiction. The two shouldn't be conflated.
Because I cared about readers' reactions, I kept worrying about word count, format, and other unimportant details. I'd also worry whether people would think I was being melodramatic or crazy. Over-thinking led to writing less and less, until eventually I couldn't even fulfill the basic goal of practicing my writing.
So I'm going to reposition "Subjective World" back to its original purpose: write more to practice the craft, and capture fragments of thought from particular moments. The reason I publish them is to put myself out there — maybe I'll find some kindred spirits.
If someone reads these scattered thoughts from various moments on the internet and uses them to pass definitive judgment on me as a whole person — that kind of narrow thinking, according to my own values, isn't worth worrying about. Obsessing over it would actually make me self-contradictory and inconsistent.
After all that, my hope going forward is simple: when writing here, worry less about what others think. Be spontaneous. Write whatever comes to mind.