The issue doesn't lie in the technical aspects; rather, the real challenge is not in knowing how to write, but in understanding how to create.
Friends often ask me: How do you write? How do you learn to write? The more I answer, the more I realize my mistake: The inability to write stems not from 'how to write,' but rather "how to create.”
Writing is just one form of creation; podcasts, videos, and photos are all creations.
Before discussing writing, one must first embark on the journey of creation.
Without creation, one cannot grasp the experience of bringing something into existence from nothing.
Creation is a process, regardless of the outcome. I must create something, and only after that can we discuss how to improve it and learn the necessary techniques. If you've consumed a bunch of tutorials and books and still haven't written anything, the problem lies in the previous step: Do you know how to create?
Creation is a process of finding direction. When you're idly distracted, something is diverting your attention. The direction of this distraction is the thread of creation.
To figure this out, your brain will have a lot of messy thoughts and consume a lot of information. Just making sense of that particularly messy, prickly thing in your mind is already very difficult. There's no talk of having a "great idea" to realize.
Sometimes, the audience may over-romanticize something they like too much. They think, "This is so profound; only enlightenment could produce this." But that's not reality. So, if you observe excellent creators, you'll find they have something in common: they are struggling with themselves.
Because creation is a process of playing hide and seek with oneself. That curious, expressive thing is there, but you don't yet know what it looks like. So as a creator, you want to figure out its specific appearance.
Thus, from another perspective, creation is not about seeking approval for your work, but about achieving peace of mind that allows you to sleep at night. Not bringing out what you want to write or shoot makes you annoying. Technique isn't the most important here because what we need is to not feel uncomfortable.
And when you have something, even if nobody else recognizes it, it's still your anchor. Because you have something tangible that you created. Creation is only related to what you care about, what's true, and what's tangible.
Back to the original question, why can't we write anything? This isn't a question about writing; it's about creation. Because you haven't discovered a truly captivating direction—something you're willing to pursue at all costs—you haven't begun to write.
So, how do you begin to write? It goes beyond learning more techniques or meditating at your desk; it involves experiencing the world, living, reading those timeless stories, facing the challenges common to humanity, and personally feeling joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness...
Until the thing that attracts you suddenly flashes by and then flickers in the distance. At that moment, you'll tell yourself:
"It's time, I'm starting."
And after that, it's a question of writing.