This post addresses a recent writing phenomenon I've observed, hoping to help some people just starting out avoid blind spots. Of course, I don't claim to be particularly skilled, but to avoid criticism, let me put my personal background first:

  • 4 years of online article writing experience Former: TVBS news reporter / Hong Kong 01 finance feature reporter / ETtoday community editor, contributing reporter, columnist / Columnist at T談談, 生鮮時書, and 換日線 / Media advisor at a startup
  • Peak productivity: 13 articles per day / Single article record: 800,000 views
  • 20 publishing house partners
  • Personal brand management

My writing journey is now entering its fourth year, and my WordPress blog is entering its third year. The first few years felt lonely—many people didn't understand, even thought writing was unimportant in this era. Yet I continued writing happily.

Unexpectedly, the trend of encouraging writing has flourished, and increasingly more people are taking it up this year, hoping to use writing as a marketing tool for their personal expertise and polish their brand. Of course, applause and social media engagement can bring quick attention, but sustaining that momentum afterward is what truly matters.

The key question is: do you truly love writing, or are you just treating it as a tool? And what's your purpose for writing?

This post simply addresses a phenomenon I've observed, one that I personally find particularly hard to accept: "organizing information."

Certainly, compiling knowledge from various sources and organizing collected information neatly is the simplest and easiest entry point. But you can't stay in the "organizing information" stage after writing for half a year or a year, can you?

I say this because if you want to attract more sophisticated audiences, you should move toward "sharing experiences"—specifically your own experiences, not others'. Even when recommending books, if you're just summarizing what chapter says what, isn't that basically the same as a book data card? Everyone can find that on Booko anyway!

Another reason is this: unless the information you organize requires digging through 20-year-old historical materials at the National Library, in an age where Google returns hundreds of millions of results in a second, and most people only look at the first page of search results, when so many people are organizing information, how can your article possibly have originality and differentiation?

When you can't break free from your lack of distinction, people who finish your article might clap and like it, but they might forget who the author is afterward. They'll only remember a certain case or theory mentioned in the article, not remember "what you once said".

Most importantly, the information you spend an entire evening organizing—knowledgeable people already know it, or people familiar with that field already understand it. Over time, this way of writing can only attract two types of people: the first are laypeople, the second are newcomers.

Eventually, you might realize you're answering the same questions repeatedly, and your readers never evolve or grow.

I don't know how it is for others, but it's quite painful for me. After all, documenting things is about hoping someone will understand...

I believe writing itself shouldn't just be helping others organize information or highlighting key points—that actually flattens personal voice. I think it should have blood, have flesh, no flowery language; that's what creates resonance, warmth, authenticity.

Because modern online writing isn't literature—no one will spend time savoring it carefully. So don't be so cryptic, and don't worry about being colloquial.

Writing is a conversation—with yourself, with your audience. Record your deepest feelings at this moment, write your emotions and actions truthfully, and only then can your brand keep polishing itself brighter.