What Writing Taught Me About Thinking

I never understood the point of writing blogs. As a kid, my dad always told me, "You should be writing a blog every week." I tried, but I never felt connected to it. Maybe it was because I didn't have much to say yet. Maybe it's because I did not understand the point of it. Maybe it was because writing felt like something I did to please my parents, not myself.

Back then, words on a screen meant nothing to me. No feeling. No purpose. I never wrote about anything that mattered to me.

But building a startup changed that. Every thought matters because it's the smallest passing ideas that shape the big realization. Any small decision can shape the future.

When this project first started, I never thought that I would come to rely on writing. I started keeping a small blue notebook where I dump every thought about Ryft: conversations with industry leaders, new ideas, internal alignment issues, even random frustrations. Most of it makes no sense when I reread it. But together, it shows how my thinking has evolved. It's like watching my own learning curve unfold in real time.

It is quite strange how writing exposes what you actually think. In your head, no matter how cluttered, thoughts feel clear. You believe you understand your idea, the problem, your product, and your direction. However, as soon as you write it down, you realize how many gaps exist. Writing forces precision. It does not allow you to hide behind a vague idea. You either are able to understand and connect your thoughts, or you aren't.

I began to use writing as a way to slow down. Startups move fast. That fast pace can allow you to lose sight of why you started in the first place. For me, writing has become a pause. It allows me to stop in my tracks and understand my thoughts. It is how I align my thoughts before making decisions.

Sometimes, I look back at my old entries or thoughts, and I find them amusing. There were ideas that I was obsessed with that now seem ridiculous. Problems that felt like the end of the world that turned out to be nothing. That is where the beauty lies, however, the notebook is a sort of time capsule of my mindset. Every page is a reminder of how much I've grown, not just as a founder but as a person.

As much as it is something to fondly look back on, writing is quite humbling. Writing shows you patterns you wouldn't see: How do you lead? How do you handle setbacks? What kinds of problems energize you? Writing is like holding up a mirror, you see not just what you think, but how you think.

I am starting to realize, the more I write, the clearer my thoughts become. My soft pitches have gotten sharper. My vision sounds less like abstract ambition and more like a system of cause and effect. That is what clarity does: It sharpens you.

Maybe that's what my parents were trying to teach me. It's not about publishing or getting an audience. It was about learning to think clearly, to not just be able to articulate but also understand the why.

Now writing has become something I just do. Sometimes it's quite structured, like setting goals for the week or a plan for the future. Most of the time it's just pure chaos, unfinished thoughts, random phrases, ideas that probably make zero sense. I don't need to write for perfection; I write because it helps me think.

When you're building something from scratch, you're constantly surrounded by uncertainty. Writing is how I anchor myself. It's how I turn heavy noise into direction. It's how I step back from every little problem and remind myself what we're building, who we're building for, and why it matters.

As I'm writing this, I am realizing Ryft itself is an extension of that idea: trying to bring clarity where there's confusion. Commission management, sales operations, and incentive structures, all of it tends to be messy, complicated, and manual. We're trying to make it effortless. To make software that configures itself. To eliminate the chaos the same way writing eliminates confusion in my thoughts.

In a way, Ryft started as a sentence I was trying to write clearly. A sentence that turned into a product.

I am not sure if I will ever be at a point where I am writing great blogs every week. My goal has changed. What I care about now is documenting the process, every lesson, every failure, and every realization that comes from slowing down, anchoring myself in the noise, and thinking.

Maybe my parents were right. Everyone should write, not because the world needs to read it, but because you do.