I’ve often wondered why blogging, one of the few genuinely valuable creations of the internet age, sometimes feels like the hardest thing in the world to do. Is it really that we have nothing to say? Everyone living in this world has stories worth telling. Some are lived, some imagined. Sometimes you just have something useful to teach or share. So how does writing end up feeling impossible, and after opening and closing drafts a thousand times we finally give up and settle for a few tweets on the subject? And how come others seem to write so easily about anything at all? Do they know a secret we don’t?

No, there’s no conspiracy. They’re probably working with a mindset we’re not using, maybe without even realizing it. I think the answer to the puzzle is this: they write for their readers, while we write for our competitors. In other words, when you start writing a post, if your assumption is that the reader is someone genuinely interested in and in need of what you’re writing, then writing becomes so much easier compared to writing while constantly worrying that your reader is a rival waiting to pick apart your every word.

This hit me back when I was in the army. The “me” in the base was no different from the “me” outside, but my perspective on the people listening to me was worlds apart. Outside, they were just friends. Inside, my listeners were trainees, soldiers who knew nothing about base life, relying only on rumors and stories from outside. To them, I was like an older brother. It felt like our responsibility as trainers to share words that could ease their stress, or in some cases, even save their lives.

It often happened that in the rare free hours, afternoons or nights, the trainees would push me to talk for hours about what awaited them, things that might help them settle into their new units. Sometimes the conversations drifted far beyond the base into anything we could talk about. The difference between me speaking for hours there and me being quiet with friends outside was that I knew these guys needed the information I had. They weren’t looking to nitpick, and nothing I said would be used against me.

I’m sure that for every month your blog has been online, you’ve got at least a few drafts saved. Go back to them. Start writing again with a fresh perspective. Let it be full of mistakes. Let it have wrong facts and clumsy grammar. Just don’t write with your competitors in mind. Even if you’re at the very peak of success, saying the most correct thing in the world, your rivals will always find something to use against your confidence and spirit.