Why nobody reads your writing

If you don’t care about their problems, they don’t care about you

Nobody cares about your writing.

Yes I know, ouch. But deep down, you already knew that.

See what I did there? That was the hook. Blunt. Spiky. Meant to wake you up. It’s basic persuasive writing. Because if I didn’t grab you in those first two lines, you’d be gone already.

Pointing that out is actually the point of this essay; it’s a live demonstration. I’m not only here to talk about persuasive writing. I’m here to do it. Right in front of you. As you read.

Let’s see if I can keep you hooked a little longer.

Why no one cares about your writing (and why it’s the first thing i’m pointing out)

Nobody cares what you find interesting—only what’s relevant to them.

We all go through life solving problems. I’m the same. When I’m on YouTube, I’m not there for entertainment (well, maybe sometimes…), I’m there to figure out how to turn on dark mode in Gmail. Look, we all have our struggles.

I didn’t connect these dots for a long time, though. I figured if I wrote great stuff, people would just get it. They’d be attracted by the sheer genius.

(Feel that? That little ‘oh crap, I do this too’ moment? That’s what I’m going for. If this hits, the persuasion is already starting to work.)

I’d write what fascinated me—ideas I thought were valuable, ones I spent hours polishing.

And then?

Meh results.

People were reading, sure. But no real engagement. Nothing that screamed ‘world impacted’ or ‘value provided’—just polite silence.

It’s because I wasn’t connecting to their problems.

Making people care is your problem (and that’s the whole point of this section)

The most dangerous writing advice?

‘Just write great stuff, and people will find it.’

Sounded too good to be true. So I went for it...

But the more I wrote, the more I started to scratch my head. The creators I was becoming aware of (because they were succeeding) weren’t just writing; they were making people care.

As I studied what actually worked, I found Dan Koe, who cemented what I was already starting to suspect: ‘If you don’t learn how to make people care, they won’t pay attention to you. And that’s not their fault. It’s yours.’

Because persuasive writing felt a little gimmicky innitially, I resisted it for a while. But persuasion isn’t just some marketing hack. It’s about connection.

Eventually, I realized (and finally accepted) that people don’t engage with what’s mildly interesting or ‘kinda good.’ They care about what solves their problems. And if you care about that, they care about you. Obviously…

Making people care starts with persuasion (this part is meant to heighten the emotional stakes)

What’s worse than writing absolute garbage? Sharing something deeply important, only for people to glance at it, shrug, and move on.

I write to make sense of things, help someone else do the same, and… well, feel like I’m doing something that matters.

My worst nightmare? Spending years refining my craft, only to realize nobody gives a shit—not because my ideas were bad, but because I never made them connect.

I want my writing to matter. To someone. Anyone. Not just for them—for me.

(See how I’m drilling into my personal fear here? Trying to connect with yours. Gotta go dark before we get to the good stuff.)

Making people care isn’t a bonus. It’s the lifeline your writing needs. Without it, even your best ideas will die quietly.

This is ultimately why I’ve embraced persuasive writing. Because if I want my writing to mean something, I need to learn how to make people care. So I did what any stubborn creator does—I started figuring it out. Stubbornly.

Experimenting with frameworks, collaborating with other persuasive writers, and yes, I’m still very much climbing the mountain as we speak.

Persuasive writing isn’t a hack. It’s a skill. One I plan to master.

Because if no one cares, none of this matters.

What happens when people do care (and why I’m showing you the proof)

Don’t listen to me. I have 200 subscribers. Not exactly a cult following.

But I can tell you—something shifted when I started diving into this approach.

Instead of people politely ‘liking’ my essays, I started hearing genuinely touching stories. Stuff that actually sounded like real impact to me.

Like people experimenting with tools I’d shared. Or how something I wrote helped them change how they talk and relate to their family. Even the more ‘standard’ responses felt sharper—like people didn’t just read it, they actually understood my point.

This is what I’m going for.

Real connection. You write something. Someone reads it. And it totally lands. They feel seen. Maybe they even solve a problem.

Your ideas spread—not because you tricked an algorithm, but because you connected with real people.

Yes, I’ll admit it: I want an audience. A big one too. Not for the luxury lifestyle or recognition (okay, maybe a little…), but because I want to feel like what I'm doing actually makes a difference.

Nobody cares about your writing.

They could.

But only if you make them.

(Do you feel the full circle? Always bring it back to the beginning.)