Why Your Ideas Are Always Better In Your Head (Than When You Write It Down)

We’ve all been there – that exhilarating moment when a brilliant idea hits. It’s going to be the next big story, a blockbuster movie, or a groundbreaking business that will make you rich. However, as many of us have experienced, there’s often a gap between the ideas in our heads and the written words in front of us. Why? 

It’s the Language

When you have an idea in your head, it seems clear and well-thought-out because you naturally understand it. But when you try to explain it in words, you realize that it’s not as clear as you thought. Writing needs a level of precision and organization that thinking alone doesn’t.

Language has its limits, and not all ideas can be expressed perfectly in words. Especially with abstract or complex concepts, finding the right words can be tricky.

That’s why in writing we often hear the advice to write evocatively. This means that we need engage our senses by only using words. 

In your head, you can see the full moon beautifully. But on paper, simply writing “a beautiful moon” doesn’t capture the scene. You need to write something like: Fireflies danced in a mesmerizing ballet, creating a spectacle of ethereal lights against the backdrop of the silent, moonlit meadow.

Your thoughts are dynamic and can change rapidly. However, when you write something down, it’s only a static representation of your thoughts at a particular moment. Unlike the real-time editing and refinement possible in your mind, the act of communicating your ideas through words will never capture this aspect effectively.

For example, have you ever listened to someone telling you a long-winded story, maybe about their dream? By their tone, they are really into it but it doesn’t go anywhere. It’s just a series of events without a climax. That’s the trouble with words. In our heads, all the events flow seamlessly together without wasted time or energy. But as thought transforms into sentences, words, and syllables, the effort the listener expends to hold attention adds up. 

When it comes down to it, words are just symbols. Symbols that may mean different things to different people. Therefore, to get your idea fully into someone’s head will require something closer to telepathy — a near-impossible feat. Nobody can fully see the idea in your head no matter how great of a storyteller you become. 

But we can’t blame it all on language. A part of the reason why our ideas are often better in our heads is that we haven’t fully flushed out the concept yet.

The Idea is Unfinished

In your mind, you may explore multiple facets of an idea, but when you write it down, you may find it difficult to capture all the nuances and details. You’ve got all these dots on a page, but you can’t connect them. 

Writing often requires a more linear and structured presentation, forcing you to organize your thoughts in a logical manner. The act of arranging information helps clarify the relationships between settings, characters, and events, making it easier to comprehend the overall story. In this way, you see holes and inconsistencies. 

Have you ever heard of the concept that the best way to learn something is to teach it? It’s the same. The best way to understand something is to communicate it. 

You believe your idea can be fully formed in the process of translation, but rarely it is. 

Simply put… 

You’re Not as Brilliant As You Think

There is a cognitive bias known as the positivity bias, which leads individuals to focus more on positive aspects and overlook potential flaws in their ideas. When an idea is in your head, it might seem brilliant because it exists in an idealized form. It’s safe in your head. 

However, when writing, the fear of judgment or criticism creeps in. This fear can impact your ability to express yourself freely and can lead to a sense that the written expression falls short. Now that it is out there then it can be attacked and broken apart. This is commonly what happens in a writing workshop, where ideas are put to the communal test. 

Overcoming this challenge often requires practice, revision, and recognizing that writing is iterative. It’s normal for the first draft to be less satisfying than the idea in your head. But through editing and refining, you can bridge the gap between your thoughts and the words on the page, making your ideas clearer and more compelling.

The first draft is a stage where writers explore their ideas, characters, and plots for the first time without the pressure of perfection. It’s a phase of discovery and experimentation, which may result in writing that feels unpolished — because it is. 

It’s only an illusion that the idea is better in your head than on paper. Don’t let it trick you. Your idea is not as good as you think, and your idea is not as bad as you think. Until you bring it out into the physical world, there is no way to examine it properly. 

So don’t be afraid to bring your idea into the real world and put it to the test. Let’s see where it breaks. You shouldn’t waste your life counting fool’s gold, saving up your great ideas like a miser, because they won’t be as great as you’ve thought. Instead, take your best ideas and take your worst ideas — whichever ones inspire you to take action — and run with them, expand on them, go off on tangents, just keep creating knowing that whatever you’ve made is better than an idea. And some day, with enough practice and luck, you’d be able to connect all the dots that you’ve made. A creation that matches your imagination.  

For more writing ideas and original stories, please sign up for my mailing list. You won’t receive emails from me often, but when you do, they’ll only include my proudest works.

Join my YouTube community for insights on writing, the creative process, and the endurance needed to tackle big projects. Subscribe Now!

I Did My First Sprint Triathlon, Here’s What Went Right and What Went Wrong

In September 2023, I participated in my first sprint-distance triathlon in Vancouver’s Stanley Park. The race comprised a 750m swim starting from Second Beach, followed by a 20k bike ride—two laps around Stanley Park—and concluding with a 5 km run to Burrard Bridge and back to Second Beach.

Before training for this race, I had close to zero experience with all three disciplines. I had swimming lessons when I was a kid, but I was only good enough to save myself from drowning… temporarily. That’s about it. Like many, I came into the sport most nervous about the first leg of the race: the swim. 

However, my cycling history wasn’t much better. I didn’t grow up with a bike; I learned to ride one at the age of 13 while hanging out with schoolmates. My most vivid cycling memories involve biting off more than I can chew—whether it’s renting a bike on vacation and venturing too far up a volcano or commuting too far in the city and finding myself needing to navigate a sketchy, heavy-traffic route home. Naturally, I associate cycling with near-death experiences. But I was really more concerned about the mechanical aspect of the sport. 

Finally, there is the run. I’m not particularly fond of running; I used to jest that the only way to get me to run was by giving me a bus to chase. Running for anything more than a quick sprint didn’t appeal to me, and I certainly didn’t take it seriously. Before registering for the triathlon, I had only participated in one 10k race—that’s the extent of my running experience.

So, that was my background before the triathlon. Not only was I a novice in the sport, but I was essentially a beginner in all three disciplines. I found a certain charm in that. I didn’t have to pick favorites; there was a wealth of learning in each of them, and learn I did. In my rebellious manner, I learned through making mistakes. While, yes, there were errors, there were also some small wins along the way.

Today, I’m going to share three things that went right during my training and race, and three things that went wrong. 

The first thing to go right is that…

I gave myself a lot of time in training

As mentioned, the race took place over Labor Day weekend in September, and I registered for it in March, providing me with a little over 180 days to prepare. It took about a week or two to find my comfort zone on the bike and a couple of months to control my breathing technique in the swim. Not only that, it gave me time to recover from pushing my body like I have never before. The sudden training led to shin splints, sidelining me from hard running for a week in March.

Having enough time on my hands also let me join a few smaller races in between. I did a 10k in April, a 5k in June, and another 10k in August. These races were great for getting used to the mindset of competing with others, which is tough to simulate in regular training. It helped me figure out how I’d respond when someone faster passes me—would I speed up? I wanted to practice the mental side of things too, and that required real-life experience. 

I’d say, if you are starting out. Give yourself as much time as possible. Commit to it early on and just make a year out of it. 

Now let’s talk about something that didn’t go well: 

Going too fast on the swim during choppy water

Everyone told me to go easy on the swim. I heard that advice, and I was planning to follow it. The only issue was, I wasn’t exactly sure how slow I should go, and I didn’t know what might happen if I didn’t follow the advice correctly. Sometimes there’s only one way to find out. 

On race day, the water was unusually choppy. I had practiced swimming the race course three times before the event, and each time, I felt quite comfortable. However, on that particular day, the conditions were wild.

Still, I wasn’t discouraged. When the race began, I joined the group at the starting line and just went for it. The first 200m went well, and I felt great keeping up with everyone. But things changed at the first turn; there was a bottleneck, and a wave hit me, making me swallow a lot of salt water. Despite people swimming around me, I had to keep moving, but getting around the corner was tough with the waves beating on me. I got exhausted and struggled to breathe. This was the result of starting too fast; I didn’t have the energy to recover. 

After making the turn, I was now swimming with the waves hitting me from the side I usually breathe on, my left side. It was a critical moment in the race, and I thought about stopping many times. But I remembered all the hard work to get to this point. Quitting after just a 300m swim wasn’t okay. I had to keep going. It was a struggle, but eventually, I turned back toward the beach, and the waves helped propel me forward. The worst was over, and I made it through.

Now for something that went right… and this is a big one: 

I finished the race

That was the only goal I had going in. Finishing the race. Getting that benchmark time and having a better sense of what needed improving. 

Many things could have gone wrong and stopped me from finishing. The tough swim was one worry, and my bike falling apart was another. I also had the fear of getting disqualified in my mind.

During the race, there were times when things could go wrong. I saw someone crash on the bike course, which affected me mentally, and the first kilometer of the run was painful, and I had to adjust a lot. The interesting part was figuring out how to balance everything rather than just pushing hard all the way to the finish.

Something that went wrong that I didn’t anticipate or practice was: 

Racking my bike… 

Returning to transition after the cycling portion of the race, I had to put my bike back onto the rack. I had so much trouble getting it on. First off, not that this was a problem, but I noticed that my bike saddle was crocked when I got to the race. I’m not sure how it got damaged. It might have been because of a crash a few weeks before (I’ll get more into that later). 

Anyway, I recall standing there, grappling with my bike, rolling it over my wetsuit and attempting to get it back onto the rack. Not only did I waste 10-20 seconds doing that, but I also expended a considerable amount of energy. To add to the chaos, I entered through the wrong side of the rack. Once I finally managed to rack my bike, scratching up my new shifter in the process, I had to run around to put on my running shoes. My transition 2 was not impressive.

Sticking with another thing that went wrong: 

My bike itself… 

Look, I still think I made a good decision getting the bike I did because I was close to getting an even worse bike. 

I didn’t want to invest in a pricey bike only to discover that I wasn’t fully committed to the sport.

This is a $500 hybrid bike, also the nicest bike I’ve owned so far. I pushed this bike to its limits during training, and a few components began to show wear, with the shifter being the most notable. Approximately a month before the race, every time I hit a bump, the left shifter would unexpectedly drop gears, which became super annoying.

My initial plan was to complete my first two races with this bike and then upgrade to a road bike. I’m honestly relieved that it managed to hold up and get me through the race. Because a week after, I noticed a clunking sound every time I pedaled. It turned out that the freewheel had broken.

I must have pushed it too far during the race itself. 

This little bike had a lot of action in a short amount of time and I’ve paid a lot since to maintain it. But after my first race, I decided to retire it from racing and purchase an entry-level road bike to take over. As for my old one, I use it as a commuter bike and it’s great for that. Despite not everything going perfectly, and a few stressful days, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Something that went right from beginning to end was my pleasure for 

Tracking progress

I got into this sport because it’s not just about fitness and gear; it’s also analytical. I enjoy tracking each workout, noting improvements or areas to work on. Using this data helps me adjust my effort and tweak my plan. Seeing myself get better gradually—swimming, cycling, and running longer and faster over time on a spreadsheet—brings me an abnormal amount of joy.

Second only to enjoying a beautiful summer day outdoors, observing my progress is my favorite aspect. It’s incredibly motivating to reflect on the beginning and recall how challenging it was to swim 200 meters. I vividly remember that version of myself, and it’s astonishing that in less than a year, I’ve gained so much more confidence in the sport. 

Without a doubt, if I hadn’t tracked my progress in some way, it would have been harder to remember where I came from and my commitment would have waned, and I likely would have given up, or at the very least, not signing up for another race.

That’s correct—I’m currently fully invested in triathlon as my recreational pastime. It’s been a welcome counterbalance to the extensive time I spend at a computer. I recommend it to most people with a sedentary job.

If you’re thinking about signing up for a triathlon and haven’t before, just know it’s a commitment. Starting with nothing, I spent at least $2000 getting ready for my first race, but the time I put into training made it worthwhile. It’s become a stress reliever I look forward to, and it broke up my day nicely. 

It can become quite an obsession, but when you’re working on a novel like I am, it’s more pleasant to share that you’re doing a triathlon rather than writing a novel. Both are braggy lines you can boast about, but at least with the triathlon, you don’t have to bore people with the details of your dystopian fantasy.

Well, those are three things that I believe I did well and three things that didn’t go as expected when I signed up for a triathlon. If you’re feeling inactive, going through an existential crisis, or just frustrated with the world, consider giving triathlon a try. Above all, it has been therapeutic, and I think that’s a good thing. 

For more writing ideas and original stories, please sign up for my mailing list. You won’t receive emails from me often, but when you do, they’ll only include my proudest works.

Join my YouTube community for insights on writing, the creative process, and the endurance needed to tackle big projects. Subscribe Now!