The Most Important Thing When Writing on note

Good evening, this is Minose, who is, albeit a bit late to the game, flailing about in the face of this stylish modern convenience called note.

I mean, seriously, what is this?
This sleek vibe.
Isn't the UI simple and beautiful, too?

It's a far cry from the personal websites I grew up with—those desolate places where you could read vertically and find nothing but abuse, the black backgrounds that ripped off Samurai Spirits, the pointlessly huge and colorful text, the pointlessly blinking 'Under Construction' signs, and the hellish landscape of mysterious MIDI files blasting at full volume.

Truly clean. Truly smart.

But you know, at the end of the day, even if the box has changed, the contents are still human.
What's happening there is an extremely primitive duel between 'me who wants to write' and 'someone who wants to read'.

So, in the vast ocean that is note, how can you get people to read your work?

This is a serious question, isn't it?
I'm someone who has spent years scattering my writing across sites and blogs that were basically garbage dumps at the edge of the internet.

Speaking from that experience, I honestly think superficial techniques are about as meaningful as peering through the hole in a Umaibo snack.

At first, I thought about it too.
Like, should I make the titles more provocative?
Should I pack it with trending keywords and really double down on that SEO stuff?

But writing that's all calculated like that isn't fun to read, is it?
It just ends with, 'Yeah, yeah, nice try farming PVs.'
For someone like me, whose emotional report card is all ones, that's a nauseatingly boring task.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm not about to say something sweet and pleasant like, 'Just write whatever you want!'

That's just self-satisfaction.
It's no different from graffiti on a bathroom stall.

After piling up 450 articles, sometimes being laughed at, sometimes being ignored, and sometimes touching someone's heart, the answer I've arrived at is something more, well, how should I put it...

It lies in something more visceral, something more human.

What is it?
I have a strong feeling this is going to be a long story, so please, everyone, listen while you sip some coffee or sit on the floor in the corner of your room.

At the end of the day,

the important thing is to be conscious of a one-on-one connection.

I finally realized recently that this might be all there is to it.
Wow, I actually said it. It's embarrassing to write.

But you know, this is for real.

When you try to write for an unspecified number of "readers," your writing inevitably becomes blurry.

It has a hollow ring to it, like shouting through a megaphone at a faceless crowd.
Such a voice is instantly drowned out in the noise-filled ocean of the internet.

Instead, you should write for "that one single person" on the other side of the screen.
Me, and you.
In this closed world about 20 centimeters in radius.

There's no need for unnecessary social niceties, facades, or manners there.
I just hammer the words born from my spinal reflexes directly into your brain.

What have I been doing over the course of 450 articles?
It was not treating the reader like a customer.

Sometimes I provoke, sometimes I self-deprecate, and sometimes I passionately rant about the flavor of some random potato chips.
I think that was all me offering myself as I am, and asking, "What about you?" as a question.

That is precisely why people who read it get the illusion that, "Oh, maybe they are talking to me."

That "illusion" is the greatest engine for getting people to read.

And here is the most crucial part.

Beyond facing each other one-on-one, there is a process required to "drag them into your own world."

I realized this painfully while watching an old friend of mine.

That guy was truly an idiot.

He was the kind of guy who would spend an hour at a late-night family restaurant seriously talking about "how he is hated by ants," or suddenly suggest, "Let's go find fossils in the park sandbox right now."

Normally, you'd just end it with, "What are you talking about?"

But his way of speaking was so desperate and looked so fun that before I knew it, I was replying, "No, the ants just hate your smell!" and we were both digging up the sandbox at 3:00 AM.

I was completely swept up in his pace.

In the end, that kind of pushy guy was the strongest.

Objectively speaking, it was just bizarre behavior and nothing more than a funny story, but for that moment, he invited... no, kidnapped me into the rules of the world he dominated.

I wonder if the same applies to writing.
Instead of presenting neatly arranged correct answers, you forcibly push the reader into the muddy torrent of your own obsessions, trivial fixations, and uncontrollable emotions.

"Huh, what is this story? I don't get it, but I can't look away." If you can make them think that, you win.

Writing is not just a means of conveying information.

It is an invitation to lure you into the labyrinth I call my thoughts.

What I think about, what makes me angry, what makes me laugh.
I want to smear that temperature directly onto your skin.

If you think, 'Huh, this person might be a bit strange,' then I've already won.
Whether it's a sense of discomfort, empathy, or disgust, it doesn't matter.

The moment your emotions are stirred, you've already become a resident of the world I've created.

People often say, 'You should strive for readability,' but to me, that's nothing more than superficial hospitality.

What's truly important is giving the reader a sense that they can no longer turn back as they read on.

I mix poison into the edges of my words, hide my aesthetics, and occasionally interject with nonsensical chatter.
By doing so, I paralyze the reader's defensive instincts, and before they know it, they can only think within the framework of my values.

This is the 'karma' I have polished over the course of 450 updates.

Precisely because a place like note is where everyone is neatly lined up, you need the courage to point at one person and call out, 'Hey, you!' and drag them straight into my messy inner world.
That is the one and only, and strongest, survival strategy to avoid being buried among hundreds or thousands of articles.

Yes, I'm talking about you, who has read this far and has one foot stuck in my world.

…Well, I tried to sound cool saying that, but when I calm down, it's actually pretty intense.
I'm afraid I might be giving off an aura like a deranged person.

But this is my personal theory.
The best conclusion a man who has pointlessly moved his fingers 450 times could reach.

For now, I'll put a period here for today.

Starting tomorrow, I intend to keep writing the most laid-back, most dense, and most hopeless articles that target you alone and invite you into the depths of my world.

So, with that in mind.