Your Writing Is Missing the Most Important Thing: You
Why point of view matters more than perfect structure
10X Writer #51
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The Day I Realized My Writing Was Just... Fine
I was proud of that post.
It had a neat little hook. It taught something useful. The formatting was clean.
And when I hit publish, I expected a response.
Some likes. Maybe a few replies. A client DM if I got lucky.
Instead?
Silence.
For three days, I checked the stats obsessively. Refreshed LinkedIn like a slot machine. Told myself I didn't care about engagement while simultaneously wondering if the algorithm was broken. Maybe people were seeing it but just... busy?
The truth was uglier: Nobody cared enough to respond.
Not rejection. Just indifference. The digital equivalent of talking to someone who's nodding politely while planning their grocery list.
Which, in some ways, felt worse than being wrong.
The strange part?
There was nothing wrong with the writing.
It was clear. Structured. Even a little clever in places.
So why did it disappear into the void?
That question ate at me for weeks. Then it hit me while scrolling through my feed, reading post after post that felt... familiar. Interchangeable.
It wasn't the post that was the problem.
It was me.
Or rather, the complete absence of me.
That post didn't carry a point of view. It could've been generated by ChatGPT if you fed it "write about productivity tips."
There was no friction. No moment that made someone stop scrolling and think, "Wait, what did they just say?"
It wasn't wrong. It just wasn't mine.
And here's the uncomfortable truth I had to face: I was hiding behind "providing value." Using it as an excuse to never say anything that might make someone disagree with me.
Since then, I've used a brutal test before I hit publish:
If someone else posted this under their name, would I feel like they stole something from me?
If the answer is no, I'm still playing it safe.
But here's where most advice on finding your voice goes sideways.
People say: "Just be authentic. Just be bold. Just write what you think."
And most writers interpret that as: "Have hot takes. Be controversial. Pick fights."
That's not what voice really is.
Voice isn't something you choose. It's something you risk.
You don't need manufactured controversy. You don't need to cosplay as an opinion columnist.
You just need to stop writing like you're afraid someone might disagree with you.
Here's what I mean:
Most "authentic" LinkedIn posts are just a performance of vulnerability. Someone sharing a "failure story" that's actually a humble-brag wrapped in lesson-learned packaging.
Writing courses teach you to sound like every other writing course graduate. Same frameworks. Same "value-driven" voice. Same careful neutrality.
The advice to "provide value" has turned most of us into content vending machines, dispensing tips without any real perspective on why those tips matter.
These aren't hot takes. They're just... true. At least from where I sit.
And saying them out loud cost me something. I've had writing coaches unfollow me. Had someone tell me I was "cynical" and "unhelpful to the community."
Good.
Because the alternative is writing posts that could be authored by anyone with access to the same Google search.
Your writing doesn't need more polish.
It needs more stakes.
Stop writing like you're trying to get everyone to nod along. Start writing like you have something to lose.
Because when you do, something interesting happens: the people who disagree will ignore you (just like they did before), but the people who resonate will actually remember what you said.
Most of you won't do this, though.
Because having a real point of view means some people won't like you.
And that's scarier than being ignored.
But here's what I've learned: being ignored while playing it safe feels worse than being disagreed with while telling the truth.
At least when people disagree with you, you know they were paying attention.