The idea that sharing your goals makes you less likely to achieve them gained popularity after the publication of a study led by German psychologist Peter Gollwitzer in 2009. Gollwitzer's research suggested that when others become aware of our plans—particularly those related to identity—it creates a social reality, which can provide a premature sense of achievement, thereby reducing motivation. Experiments demonstrated that participants pursued plans known by the research group with less intensity than those kept private. The results have been widely interpreted in self-improvement and productivity advice, including starting a business, learning a language, and achieving a healthy body. The recommendation: keep your goals private to succeed.

I aspire to follow the middle way, a principle rooted in Buddhist philosophy, which advocates for a balanced approach that avoids extremes. Keeping an open mind to diverse principles and methods is particularly beneficial in self-improvement. An idea might be effective for an individual under specific circumstances at one point in their life, yet the opposite could be true at another time in a different scenario. I wonder if any single piece of advice remains universally applicable throughout life. Continuous learning and adjustment are the only constants you can rely upon. However, regarding a problem of creativity that had troubled me for over seven years, I found a solution in the popular interpretation of Gollwitzer's research.

The Tokyothèque newsletter is the first self-generated project I have started and sustained for any significant period since 2017. During those years, I could not launch any project meaningfully—a creative impasse. I've always had the artistic impulse to create, and for anyone with this inclination, such a deadlock is a deeply dissatisfying condition. In this state, you know you are not meeting your needs but feel stuck and unable to generate the momentum to do so. It differs subtly from creative block, which is characterised by a lack of inspiration. In contrast, I had numerous ideas in notebooks and detailed plans to realise them across various disciplines and media. I would initiate projects but then allow my ideas to stagnate and fade away.

Each time, I had a cacophony of reasons. I was too tired from my day job to continue working in the evening, experiencing a perceived burnout. There was dissatisfaction with the work and a routine loss of confidence. Sometimes, I felt a sudden emotional disconnect from the work. Other times, I believed somebody had already done my idea, and I had nothing to add. I entered a cycle of negativity: I would think extensively about my ideas, consume inspirational books and videos, and discuss the ideas with people around me. Then, I would overcomplicate the work, devise reasons not to act, and eventually abandon it. Reflecting on it, the emotional arc of this cycle would peak around the moment I decided to talk about the work. Perhaps I was embodying Gollwitzer's thesis.