Since the beginning of the year, I have written on this blog 64 posts. Since December 2023, when I started blogging, 162 (163 if we consider this one as well).
And yet, despite years of blogging, the outcome is far below what I expected.
In one of our recent chats, my father asked me: “Do you think it’s worth it?” I answered “Yes, of course” without hesitation. Still, he may have a point.
But first, let’s look at the possible reasons.
Maybe it is cognitive overload: too much content on the web, too little attention. Everything already feels like too much, so why add one more thing to read.
Maybe people simply read less. The world has moved to vlogs, reels and WhatsApp chats, and long-form writing feels like a slow train in a high-speed world.
Maybe we now assume everything is written by AI, so why bother at all.
Maybe fewer people know about the blog than I think. In fact, most of the people I meet for work had no idea I wrote one until I mentioned it.
Or maybe it is something else I have not figured out yet.
Whatever the reason, I will be honest: it hurts.
And it is not about ego. Well, not that much. It is not even about clients, although the number of clients who came to me through the blog and more in general through my personal website is lower than I expected. It hurts because I can see there is value in what I write, and I would like more people to find it.
I know enough about entrepreneurship to know the rule: things are always going well, even when they are not. But this blog is not a company, so I am not going to pretend I have thousands of views. It would not be true, and the only rule of this blog has always been to be as sincere as I can.
So, could I do things differently? Of course.
Do I know how? Yes.
I could chase clickbait topics.
I could pick a single topic, probably in the legal world, and explore it from every possible angle.
I could move everything to Substack, like most bloggers do.
I could start a newsletter, so people would hear about this blog whether they wanted to or not.
Or, my favourite, I could turn it into a challenge. One of my early inspirations was Neil Pasricha, who wrote one post every weekday for a thousand weekdays with his blog 1000 Awesome Things. Part of me was tempted to beat that record, until I realised this blog was never meant to be a personal challenge, because I have already enough of them in my life. Just a moment of reflection.
Meanwhile, the paradox is that, in some ways, the blog is even working against me. I am losing engagement on LinkedIn, because my posts link somewhere else. You might say: then don’t link. But LinkedIn is where most of my conversations happen, so…
And if this is not enough, some people seem to think I work less because I blog. By the way, nothing could be further from the truth. In terms of “serious” work (although I consider this blog serious too), I can hardly remember a more intense year than 2026.
So, on paper, my father’s question has an easy answer. And yet, when I look at it more closely, there is another side.
First, my mind is clearer. For the most part, I write for myself. Putting a thought on the page is the best way I know to stop it from going round in circles. A managing partner once told me that, sometimes, the best way to avoid burning out is to do the work. It sounds counterintuitive, but it makes sense: if your mind is obsessed with a task and the task does not go away, there is only one thing left to do. Do. That. Damn. Task.
Second, I am creating something that lasts. Another obsession of mine. I could die tomorrow, and this blog would still be here. Post by post, it is a small building with my name on the door. Whether you like that building or not, well, that’s a matter of personal taste….
Third, it feeds my ikigai. I should write a full post about it one day. It roughly means your reason for being, the thing that makes getting up in the morning worth it. Offering people a different perspective is part of mine, and this blog is one of the ways I do it. You know… the pride that comes from getting things done and connecting them to your mission is priceless.
Fourth, I am learning how to write. As obvious as it may seem, you learn to write by writing. You find your own style, you listen to feedback, you notice what lands and what does not. And if you don’t believe it’s necessary, reflect about the fact that writers as different as Stephen King, Ernest Hemingway and Shonda Rhimes all point to the hours spent at the desk. I guess that disagreeing feels a little hard then….
Fifth, it sharpens my storytelling, which I love. Usually people start blogging and then get invited to give talks about it. For me it goes the other way. Most of these posts come from real conversations. Years of them made certain thoughts stick in my mind until they asked to be written down. And once they are on the page, they take on a completely different meaning.
Sixth, writing breeds writing. The more I blog, the more I want to blog. When I started my 101 reflections, I had 147 ideas in the pipeline. Now, at almost 170 posts, I have 250. I suspect that by the time I reach 250, the pipeline will be close to 500. And yes, it’s a “realistic assumption”.
Seventh, it teaches me patience, starting with what I call the podcast lessons. They say 90% of podcasts die after episode three. I am well past that. They also say it takes about a hundred episodes to really get going. So there is still hope. I do not know how many posts it will take to reach 100,000 readers or more, but I am not quitting. At the end of the day, I’m still the gritty one..
Speaking of grit, that brings me to number eight: blogging tests my sense of purpose. One of my favourite bands, Twisted Sister, spent about ten years playing clubs in the New York and New Jersey area, living on very little before they made it big. Ten years of blood, sweat and tears, chasing a record deal while rocking every club, night after night. How many bands would have thrown in the towel by then?
Ninth, it lets me inspire. For the good things I have done, fair enough, but also for my failures, which I have shared generously in these pages. Not surprisingly, people seem to like my failures more than my achievements. Whether they enjoy watching me fall or recognise something of their own story in it, I don’t mind. I still like to inspire. The rest is up to them. (although, if it is the first option, I guess they should ask themselves a few questions.)
Tenth, and my favourite: the link. I love that, in the middle of a conversation, I can simply say: “I wrote about that.” If you have had a conversation with me in the last couple of years, chances are you have heard those words, and probably received a WhatsApp message with a link soon after. Instead of talking for twenty minutes (assuming I have the time, which is not guaranteed, and that you want to hear me, which is even less so), I send a link. If you want to go deeper, you click. If you don’t, that is fine too. I have done the same with videos and lectures, but a post is more specific, and most of the time it travels further.
So, is it really useless?
By the numbers, maybe. By every other measure, I am not so sure.
Especially if I think about the hidden (aka the eleven) reason, probably the most important one. Sometimes it is less a matter of how many people read you, and more a matter of who does, and what stays with them.
So here is my longer answer. And if you made it this far, you are part of the crew, so thank you.
Who knows, one day you might be the one saying: “I was reading his blog before anyone else did.”
