My Simple Writing Framework Gives Me An Unfair Advantage.
If you're ordinary like me, use these simple strategies that helped me get over 5million views and 60,000 readers.

First-world wifi issues mean’t this post is a day late, but it will be worth the read. My last post on writing struck a chord with so many people that I’ve done a little more of a deep dive into my process. I will write more of these, acutely aware that a lot of my readers also write. I hope you enjoy it —if you find value in this, please give it a share.
My followers across Medium and Substack have gone from 5,000 to 60,000 in 5 months.
At first, I thought the numbers increasing were Uncle Tony Subblemine's (Medium CEO) way of apologising for slashing my earnings.
The Medium algorithm changed last year, and it was a rude awakening.
I switched to Substack because it was like someone had turned the taps off, and suddenly, I had to find a way to replace the $3,000 a month that disappeared into the abyss.
I felt as filthy as a back alley trash can patching up my resume and on the brink of hitting send to about 12 soul-sucking desk jobs.
Maybe it was the flashbacks to my old, anxiety-inducing job—a place where dreams went to die—that kept me from following through.
It's like an old buddy used to say to me:
"Jay, every problem brings an opportunity to grow".
Once I quit blaming the platforms I was writing on for not telling me how or what to write or how to go viral—I started to look internally.
I spent days tearing my hair out, surrounded by scraps of paper. Then it hit me—the answers are in my own experiences. I jotted down everything that fires me up: fitness, Crypto, writing, technology, modern finance—stuff I know inside out.
When I started writing about experiences I had, instead of only trending topics like some dollar tree journalist, I naturally started writing more in the first person, and my language changed from "Hey guys, here's how you" to "Here's how I."
The difference is enormous.
It, for whatever reason, tickled the algorithm's ball sack but, more importantly, added a personal touch with readers here and in my weekly newsletter.
Daylight began to appear between me and my former self.
Start with this one thing.
It's a framework.
To grow, I needed to sit down and write, but procrastination comas had my progress by the gonads. I'd slip into them often like a man with no purpose, and it was all down to not having a framework.
When I faced a blank page intending to write, I was doomed to fail due to the lack of direction and too much room for interpretation. This blank slate forced me to make too many decisions, leaving me as docile as a sedated zoo animal.
It stopped me dead in my tracks.
Then, the lack of words on the page became demotivating because the finish line was this distant, unreachable promise.
If, by a miracle, an idea came into my head without a pre-planned framework, my stories would grow legs that confused readers and left me wondering, what the heck was I thinking when I wrote that?
Think of your framework as a puzzle. There are 4 to 7 pieces, and the puzzle starts at the top of your page with a headline that speaks to a problem your reader is having.
It's my job to ensure all the pieces fit using the top-down framework below and prevent me from feeling like a lost hiker.
Puzzle Piece 1 - Headline
Puzzle Piece 2 - Subheadline
Puzzle Piece 3 - First section
Puzzle Piece 4 - Second section
Puzzle Piece 5 - Third section
Puzzle Piece 6 - Final Thoughts.
Here's the thing: Don't stress about making the puzzle perfect.
Unlike assembling a real puzzle, the beauty of writing is that you can bridge the gaps and make everything fit without leaving any disjointed white spaces.
Malcolm Gladwell calls it the "Imperfect Puzzle." He says too many people try to be neat or feel they need to complete something.
"People think being neat and tidy is the goal of a narrative. I don't. It's fine for narratives to be messy. I'm more for the idea that you work through a problem imperfectly or even fail at the task you have set out to do. If the failure is interesting, I am fine with it."
Have this one process as your cornerstone.
I write about 3 to 5 headlines most days around topics I'm interested in and that I know my readers enjoy based on data around views and engagement.
I write the headline, then three or four subheadlines and a final thoughts section, just like the framework I described above. Then, I insert bullet points for what I can write in each.
This way, when tackling my blog, I can attack each section independently so it feels less intimidating.
I follow the PAS strategy in each section (Problem, Amplify, Solution).
I open the loop with a problem, amplify it with a story that includes some friction or adversity, and then close the loop for the reader with a solution.
In the final part of the blog, I loop back to the beginning, address the headline and my opening statement, and summarise my thoughts about what I've said.
Try it.
Find a way to get through the first draft quickly.
There are days when I stare at the screen for hours.
Then I talk myself into going for a walk, and before I know it, it's the afternoon, and there's still a blank page.
It speaks to a harsh reality: While I love writing, there are days when it's hard to do. I have to tap into that primal teeth-clenching side of myself just to get something down.
There's one undeniable truth about writing, and that speed cures all.
Whatever happens, I complete my first rough draft as quickly as possible with zero concern for quality or editing.
Getting a completed first draft at speed is my North Star.
If I get stuck, I put a random word there as a place marker and return to it. Going quickly for even just 60 seconds without distractions gets me into a flow state, where ideas come into my head, and it feels like the handbrake is off.
As soon as that first draft is done, I'm dialled in and hunting for another blog to write down on. Some days, I've written three first-draft draft blogs in a day.
I always write and edit on separate days and sleep on something if I'm not 100% certain about it.
Stop sounding like a Wikipedia page.
Or, as Tim Denning says, "If people want a bunch of facts, they could google them."
The single point of difference between my writing that does better and writing that crashes and burns worse than a political campaign really comes down to me putting more effort into making the words sing on the page.
Reading back at my old posts, I realise some were as dry as an old boot, and that's because I was transporting information or, as Uncle Tim says, "a bunch of facts."
The best way to add flavour is to remove filler words. As famous writer Michael Lewis says, "Removing unnecessary language makes your writing sound rambunctious."
What he's saying is that conciseness gives your writing energy. Too often in those early days, I would 'overtry' like some kinda Hemmingway wannabe, and readers could tell.
It's cringeworthy reading it back—It's the brevity that makes it more engaging and flavourful.
My secret weapon? I cut the fluff and let metaphors do the heavy lifting. I spice things up by stripping away adjectives and throwing in idioms and similes like salt in a stew.
The proof is in the pudding throughout this entire blog.
Always tell a story.
Michael Lewis, the famous writer of the "Big Short" and "Money Ball," once said, "If you can't tell a story, you don't have a way to convince people".
So tell a goddam story, even if it's poorly told.
My stories are simple.
I always take my main character on a hero's journey, which starts with them encountering adversity or controversy and then reaching triumph.
When I write about finance topics, I always seek an expert in their field, which is a safety signal for readers. However, to make it sound less dry than a rusty fence, I scour the Internet for gold or, should I say, adversity.
Something about people coming through challenging times makes the reader want to rally behind the main character.
One of my most viral blogs ever was on the late great investor Charlie Munger—who has a very sad yet inspiring back story:
In the early days, Rick Guerin, Charlie and Warren Buffet's lesser-known business partner said, "When Teddy was in bed and slowly dying, Charlie would hold him for a while, then go out walking the streets of Pasadena crying."
Munger recalls that he and his ex-wife would sit in the leukaemia ward with the other parents, watching their children waste away. It was devasting.
Munger reflected on this time in his life — "I lost my first son to Leukemia, a miserable slow death. At the end, he kinda knew it was coming, and I'd been lying to him all along. It was just pure agony."
Sometimes, the main character is me.
If you've followed me for some time, you'll know I shout my weight loss journey from the rooftops.
If it inspires one person each time I post, I'll keep writing about it.
Here's a snippet of my struggle and adversity with weight loss:
"When you get into your mid-30s or early 40s, your metabolism mysteriously throws an anchor overboard and says no way, José.
It's as if every greasy cheeseburger, beer, and Galaxy dairy milk chocolate you devour is more challenging to shift than a tenant who stopped paying the rent.
What's even worse, and a double whammy to your self-esteem, is the guilt tax from eating food you enjoy. It feels f**king awful, and it's a cycle I thought I'd never be able to escape."
Forget about the algorithm.
The algorithm on these platforms is so helter-skelter that I've just said to hell with it.
I'm writing what I want—take it or leave it.
I'll try to make it as interesting as possible, and I'll do that by living the experiences that I write about so readers can relate to them.
In the early days of writing, I would force myself to tell a story, so I wrote pointless anecdotes that read more like journal entries.
Here's the thing: Before you put pen to paper or finger to keyboard, think to yourself: Is this good for the person on the other side of the screen?
Think, what do they get out of it? And if I were reading this as a stranger on the Internet, would it be good?
You'll be on the right track if you can answer yes to those questions.
Screw the algorithm.
Have a timer on your desk.
Each time I find myself zoned out, sometimes for hours, or down a YouTube K-hole disguised as research, my single strategy to break out of that hamster wheel is to crack out my stopwatch.
It breaks the loop of nothingness.
I set the timer for 15 minutes as a countdown clock, and almost immediately, my brain kicks into action like one of Pavlov's dogs.
I tell myself that once those 15 minutes are up, I'll treat myself to a drink or a walk as a reward.
I often reset it to 15 minutes and keep writing because I've slipped into a flow state.
Then, the productivity starts to feed itself.
Reply to comments for reasons you never knew.
People like to be heard, and I am tremendously grateful to anyone who reads my entire blog and leaves a comment.
Positive or negative.
Engaging with readers at scale creates a feedback loop that reverse-engineers people's thoughts, allowing me to write more tailored content.
Take this post, for instance. It’s not what I usually write about, but my last post with writing tips got 11,000 views, and 200+ people commented on it across multiple platforms.
I know many of my readers are writers, so I use the comments section as a communication death star to speak directly to what people want.
Both positive and negative commentators leave seeds of truth in their words, which are little nuggets of gold to help your writing improve.
I've read every comment on every platform I write on.
And I'll continue to do so.
Good ideas are more important than good writing.
This area is where I made the most improvement.
In those early days, I would spend a week, maybe even two weeks, compiling a blog and channelling my inner Shakespeare, only to be left disappointed with a minimal amount of reads.
Whenever I returned to the drawing board, I always defaulted to trying to improve my writing—a big mistake.
Good writing plays a part in all this, but great ideas sit right above it all. A great idea can survive through average writing, but excellent writing can't penetrate a low-premise idea, ever.
Read that again.
My secret weapon for thrashing out a good idea is where there is conflict. I don't mean to cause drama. I mean a clash of ideas.
You want to combine two ideas into one high-premise headline immediately understood by a broad audience.
Tim Denning, the most followed blogger in the world, says you want to be semi-controversial:
"Notice how I said semi?
You don't need to throw mud at the Donald Duck president or make love to a cow. Just make your writing a tad spicy. The difference is easy to explain.
Overly controversial writing picks a fight with people.
Semi-controversial writing makes a stand on a topic.
This technique works because it ethically grabs attention and doesn't make you look like a $2 an hour Uber driver."
I believe in focusing on high-premise ideas.
A high-premise idea is your entire blog summed up in one concise, universally understood headline.
A great example of this is the film "Jurrasic Park."
In two words, they sell family, fun, adventure and a clash of two behemoths, man and dinosaur.
It's beyond captivating.
Find your big idea.
Groundhog Day—Fight Club
Always close the loop.
Bill Murray in Groundhog Day is the most famous example of a looping narrative. It follows a weather forecaster who lives the same day repeatedly, starting each morning in precisely the same way as the day begins.
Each new day is like watching a new, captivating film.
In "Fight Club" (1999), directed by David Fincher, the movie starts with a tense scene where the narrator, played by Edward Norton, shoves a gun in his mouth.
The film then backtracks to recount the events leading up to that moment, ultimately looping back to the opening scene.
There’s something timeless about this looping back to the beginning that lingers with readers.
Since starting my writing journey, I've amassed nearly 5 million views and almost 60,000 readers across multiple platforms.
I was the kid who didn't have good enough grades to get into college and couldn't breathe when I was near a classroom.
I've found a way to communicate online that strikes a chord with people. It's because of you that I get to do what I do.
This is my simple writing framework—if you use it, you’ll have an unfair advantage.
It worked for me, so why not you?


Very well written,
I had the same problem and you have given me some important guidance.
My next move will be to sign up and be a subscriber.
Sincerely,
Jacques John Grenier,
aka koosto902