
隨時隨地儲存任何內容
靈感無處不在。除了上傳檔案,YouMind 還讓您透過瀏覽器外掛或 iOS 應用程式捕捉想法、儲存素材。 支援 PDF、網頁、YouTube 影片、播客、音訊錄製、Office 文件等等。
YouMind 是學習與創作交匯的地方。在 YouMind 中,您可以與 AI 智能體一起學習、思考和創作。一切自然流動,與您共同成長。YouMind 是學習與創作交匯的地方。在 YouMind 中,您可以與 AI 智能體一起學習、思考和創作。一切自然流動,與您共同成長。



靈感無處不在。除了上傳檔案,YouMind 還讓您透過瀏覽器外掛或 iOS 應用程式捕捉想法、儲存素材。 支援 PDF、網頁、YouTube 影片、播客、音訊錄製、Office 文件等等。

大多數 AI 工具生成的洞察對每個人都一樣。YouMind 不同。它在您閱讀、觀看或收聽時,從您的高亮、筆記和批註中學習。 透過學習您探索和思考的方式,YouMind 創造出真正反映您自己的洞察。

大多數 AI 工具止步於生成。在 YouMind 中,每個 AI 報告都會開啟為完全可編輯的文件。您可以自由地審閱、改寫和完善您的作品,將快速輸出轉化為持久的創作。

YouMind 中的一切無縫協作。從儲存素材、獲得洞察到持久創作,您可以在一個連貫的空間中學習、思考和創作,無需切換工具。

將零散的想法和素材轉化為有意義的故事可能讓人不知所措。YouMind 幫助您發現隱藏的主題,連接想法,將您的洞察塑造成深思熟慮、有充分支撐、值得驕傲分享的作品。在創作的每個階段,YouMind 都支持着您。
自信地創作。

從大量資料中提煉關鍵洞察需要時間和專注。YouMind 將一切匯聚在一起,將您的發現綜合成清晰、有說服力的報告和簡報。它還幫助您輕鬆地為更廣泛的受眾改編您的作品,從董事會到社交媒體。
有影響力地呈現。

面對無盡的閱讀和密集的文獻可能讓人精疲力竭。YouMind 將複雜的材料轉化為清晰的理解,將繁重的文本轉化為引人入勝的示例、筆記和視覺內容。從研究到寫作,一切都連接在一個專注的工作空間中。
輕鬆地學習。

202X 年是投入內容創作的絕佳年份。 這句話每年十二月都會準時出現,而推廣它的貼文總能獲得大量的讚和分享。 因為年終是設定宏大目標的最佳時機。 內容創作的諷刺之處在於,平台讓入門變得如此容易,以至於每個人都認為「嘿,我完全可以做到」,這讓「默默無聞」成為對自尊的沉重打擊;同時,他們又被 KOL 的故事淹沒,助長了那種揮之不去的錯失恐懼症——「如果你現在不開始,你就會錯過機會。」 這些壓力結合在一起,讓「開始創作」成為最終的新年願望。 但殘酷的事實是:大多數有抱負的創作者,在盯著空白頁面和不斷閃爍的游標時,立刻就會碰壁。 是懶惰嗎?還是典型的寫作障礙? 不總是如此。 你確實想寫點什麼——任何東西。 但完全的自由可能導致完全的癱瘓。沒有規則,你該從何開始? 然後你開始自我厭惡:這句話聽起來很平淡,那個想法太普通了,總是追逐潮流卻慢了一步……然後,噗,你關閉了分頁。 你的新年目標還沒開始就熄滅了。 創作中真正的惡棍是從零開始的恐懼。 這就像物理學:靜摩擦力遠比保持物體運動更難。 一張空白頁光是存在就耗盡你的精力。從零想法到第一句話?那是最殘酷的部分。 上週,我們用戶社群中的某人發文說:「有了 AI,寫作基本上只需要動動手指。」 這句話點醒了我:我們表現得好像創作需要英雄般的勇氣,但勇氣往往只是巧妙設計的問題。 從本質上講,創作並非憑空創造天才——它是對已經存在的東西做出反應。AI 充當了火花,所以你從來都不是真正從零開始。 那麼,你究竟該如何實現呢? 我們的用戶營運主管 Nico 曾分享一個影片,展示如何使用 YouMind 在幾分鐘內將一個爆紅的 YouTube 短片變成一篇精美的部落格文章。 那個演示對我上面提到的那位用戶來說是個轉變,她曾多次嘗試(並放棄)創作之旅。 她最終發布了她的第一篇文章,這一切都歸功於一個轉變:她不再糾結於「我到底該寫什麼?」 相反,每當她看到一個引發共鳴、靈感或爭論的影片或文章時,她就會把連結丟進 YouMind。 砰。幾秒鐘後,AI 就根據該來源生成了一份粗略的草稿。 就這樣,空白頁的惡夢成為了歷史。 暢銷書《像藝術家一樣竊取》的作者 Austin Kleon 有一個很棒的習慣,叫做「塗黑詩」。 他會拿起當天的《紐約時報》,抓起一支奇異筆,塗黑 90% 的文字。剩下什麼字?他會把它們串成一首詩。 圖片來源:Slice of Time Kleon 親口說:他從不在空白頁上開始寫詩。 這就是《像藝術家一樣竊取》的精妙之處:創作並非創造一切——而是尋找正確的火花。 報紙是他的火花。篩選文字的海洋以挑選出寶石,將創作變成他有趣的尋寶遊戲。 在化學中,活化能是啟動反應所需的最低推力。 一張空白頁迫使你從純粹的意志力和你一生的經驗中召喚那種能量——足以嚇跑我們 99% 的人。 但現有的材料呢?它就像催化劑,大大降低了能量障礙。不再是從無到有地創造——只需輕輕一推,想法就會湧現。 作為一個創作新手,跳過「寫什麼?」的焦慮。尋找讓你興奮的東西:一篇文章、一個影片,甚至是一條讓你生氣的評論。 把它丟進 YouMind,快速記下你的看法——同意、不同意、加入你的觀點——然後讓 AI 根據來源和你的輸入建立一個起始草稿。 看到了嗎?這不是寫作;這是聊天。而聊天?這對任何人來說都很容易。 當然,「借用想法」或「重新混音」可能會引發警報: 這不就是赤裸裸的抄襲嗎? 如果你原封不動地把它發布到網上,是的,那會是抄襲。 但那個火花是你的發射台,而不是終點線。 它就像營火的引火物:它讓你的小火焰熊熊燃燒。一旦燃燒起來,引火物就會燒盡——你用自己的木材來助燃。 當你將材料交給 AI,它吐出草稿時,請重新設定你的期望: 不要追求完美。事實上,擁抱混亂:平庸、笨拙、重複、充滿 AI 平淡的陳詞濫調。如果它有 60% 可用,那就是勝利。 你的初稿唯一的任務就是存在——這樣你就有東西可以修改。 在她的經典著作《鳥兒,鳥兒》中,作家 Anne Lamott 以「糟糕的初稿」這一概念精準地闡述了這一點,這個概念拯救了無數創作者免於自我懷疑。 她認為,每一部偉大的作品都始於你幾乎無法忍受的一團糟。草稿只需要存在,即使它雜亂無章、未經打磨。 然而,我們大多數業餘愛好者甚至無法寫出糟糕的草稿——完美主義扼殺了搖籃中的每一個蹩腳句子。 於是,AI 登場。它為你處理那些令人尷尬的部分。 AI 零自我,耐力無限。它在幾秒鐘內就能輕鬆地完成那份必要但醜陋的草稿。 現在,你從「寫作」模式快速切換到「編輯」模式。 Rick Rubin,這位 Johnny Cash 許多熱門歌曲和無數葛萊美獎背後的傳奇製作人,是個異類。 他很少在軟體中作曲、編曲或調整音軌。 那麼他是如何創造奇蹟的呢? 他會躺在沙發上,播放演示,然後大刀闊斧地刪減。剪到無可再剪,然後重新混音——交換氛圍,調整節奏。 在 AI 時代,Rubin 的風格基本上可以稱為「氛圍製作」。 這是創作者的終極放鬆區。 盯著 AI 的陳詞濫調輸出?效法 Rubin。跳過構思句子的壓力——只需批判: AI 文字就像過濾水:純淨但無味。你的編輯為它注入了真實的生活——原始的經驗、內心的情感、古怪的偏見。 編輯比從頭開始容易得多。 老派的創作方式讓你成為一個雕塑家:面對一塊空白的石板(頁面),你必須憑藉純粹的毅力和技巧來雕刻。每一次揮動都讓你精疲力盡,一次失誤就可能毀掉一切。 AI 顛覆了這種模式:現在你是一名園丁。走進一片已經充滿植物、泥土和雜草的土地。無需從頭創造——只需決定:修剪枯死的東西,扶正盛開的花朵,滋養脆弱的地方。 雕塑家苦幹;園丁享受氛圍。 我曾嘗試使用 semaglutide——Elon Musk 大力推薦的減肥針——來控制體重。 它備受爭議(哈囉,反彈風險),但它教會了我一件事:減肥最困難的部分不是飢餓或運動——而是看到結果的滯後。 你努力節食運動一週,跳上體重計……什麼都沒有。完全掃興。 Semaglutide 讓開始變得毫不費力:一針下去,飢餓感消失了。我看到了快速的成果(主要是水分),而無需與我的大腦抗爭。 我會想:「這沒那麼糟。」動力建立起來:我逐漸養成更好的飲食習慣,增加了運動量。 當我的身體適應並停止作用時,我已經養成了穩固的習慣。 AI 在創作中的作用就像減肥一樣:它突破了起步的難關,讓你十分鐘內就能得到一份草稿。那份快速的勝利?它是讓你堅持下去的誘因。 創作感覺就像徒手攀岩——沒有繩索,只有純粹的恐懼。 空白頁是你的懸崖:每個字都必須完美落地。搞砸了?對胡言亂語、無關緊要或零讀者的恐懼會耗盡你的動力。 AI 遞給你一條安全帶。 請注意:它不會替你攀爬。 你仍然要抓住每個支點,鍛鍊肌肉,磨練技能。 但墜落?不再是選項。 即使一個句子失敗了,一個想法熄滅了,你也不會墜落——你有那份草稿作為你的安全網。 你仍在攀爬,只是沒有了恐懼。 學得更聰明,創造更大膽。 這是 YouMind 的標語。大膽是一個明智的選擇。 你選擇了一個跳過虛無的過程,一次內置安全保障的攀登。 為了讓您輕鬆獲得這條「安全帶」,YouMind 在聖誕節和新年期間提供七折優惠和節日福利。 在此處享受七折優惠: 不再獨自面對虛無。 祝您的 2026 年創作目標輕鬆實現——您只需要動動手指。 —— 本文及其視覺內容由 YouMind 共同創作。

如今,我們花費數小時瀏覽無盡的 YouTube 影片、推文和 Instagram 貼文——結果卻發現所有這些時間都沒有產生任何真正的價值。這就像你餓的時候吃一包薯片:暫時滿足,但最終卻不盡興。 就在前幾天,我坐下來問自己,這種持續不斷的資訊過載對我們來說到底意味著什麼。我們生活在一個充滿 FOMO(錯失恐懼症)的世界,總是在衝浪,總是在消費。但當我尋找答案時,一個童年記憶浮現出來,悄悄地提供了它的智慧。 我小時候喜歡和奶奶一起做飯。她會讓我幫忙做些簡單的活——洗菜、切蒜。她注意到我的好奇心,有一天就讓我自己做一道菜。我按照她的指示,模仿她的動作,不知怎麼地就做出了一道美味的菜。我感到驕傲和快樂。 那第一道菜在我心中點燃了一些東西。隨著時間的推移,我學會了做更多的菜,去嘗試,去相信我的直覺。畢業後,我開始獨自生活,自己做飯。這從來不覺得是件苦差事。烹飪成為一種寧靜的樂趣,一種帶來平靜的小小創造行為。我可能沒有米其林星級的擺盤或風味,但我感受到的成就感是真實的——沒有任何餐廳體驗能與之媲美。 自從網路興起以來,我們已成為不知疲倦的內容消費者。我們閱讀、我們滑動、我們遺忘。但如果我們顛倒過來呢?如果我們利用所有這些內容不僅僅是消費,而是創造呢?一顆漂亮的馬鈴薯仍然只是一顆馬鈴薯——直到你清洗它、煮沸它、調味它,然後將它搗成溫暖而令人滿足的東西。想法也是如此。它們只有在你對它們做些什麼時才變得有意義。 創造是連結點的行為。意義就是這樣產生的。你從寫一段話中學到的東西可能比閱讀十篇文章還要多。這就是 YouMind 背後的理念:建立一個工具,幫助你愛上寫作、愛上製作、愛上將自己的想法塑造成真實的東西。 一旦你開始,你就不再漂泊。你是一個手持船槳的水手。你正在掌舵自己的航向。你是你自己的船——而 YouMind 是你的船槳。你是你自己的廚師——而 YouMind 是你的廚房。

Over the years running a podcast and creating content, I've been asked countless times: "How do you express yourself with such confidence, clarity, and logic?" My answer has always been the same: Write consistently. Speaking and writing are fundamentally the same skill, but writing demands more rigor in logic and rhetoric. It's a more intensive training ground for expression. So if you want to improve how you communicate, start with writing. And if you want to write well, start with consuming great content. Here's the thing though: you don't need to wait until you've accumulated enough knowledge before start creating. Input and output must happen simultaneously. Even if your first attempts are clumsy, you need to begin. Think of it like your digestive system: if you don't eat, there's nothing to process. But if you only eat without processing, you'll become constipated. A healthy system requires circulation—continuous input, continuous output, each feeding the other. Social media platforms have created a paradox: they've democratized the opportunity to create while simultaneously raising the bar impossibly high. Platforms tell us "everyone can be a creator," yet reality whispers that you need exceptional insights, depth, and style to break through. We're hungry to express ourselves, but we're blocked at the starting line by a nagging question: "Am I good enough?" Over the past year at YouMind, we've worked with thousands of creators. Some are seasoned professionals with formal training or established audiences. They use YouMind to draft blog posts, script videos, and outline podcasts before publishing across various platforms. But the majority of our users aren't what you'd traditionally call "creators." They're using YouMind to study, build products, write reports, or keep journals. So, are they creators at all? I'd argue yes. Before I started creating publicly, I spent a decade quietly writing hundreds of thousands of words in private. No one said creation has to be "for the public." A recipe you make for yourself, a proposal you write for your team, even a thoughtful social media post—if it went through the process of input, understanding, and output, that's creation. By this definition, YouTubers are creators, knowledge workers are creators, and anyone thoughtfully organizing their life is a creator. At least a quarter of the global population creates something every day. Most just don't think of themselves as "creators." So what's stopping these two billion people from claiming that identity? Looking back at my own creative journey and observing those around me, I've identified three artificial barriers to creation. These barriers have historically kept most people on the sidelines, whispering to themselves: "I'm not cut out for this." Until AI agents arrived, these gates seemed insurmountable. What are these three barriers? And how do AI agents help us overcome them? Overthinking is the biggest internal obstacle to creation. At YouMind, we require all team members to run social media. The content can be related to YouMind or completely personal. It can be about work or just life. This isn't busywork; it's essential training for understanding content and platforms, which is crucial when we are building an AI creation tool. This policy started with our marketing team, spread to product, and eventually reached engineering. I was already an experienced creator with established workflows. With AI agents, my output multiplied and even be able to publish daily without breaking a sweat. But several engineers confided in me their anxiety about this. It wasn't that they found making videos or writing posts technically difficult. They were afraid no one would care, afraid their content wouldn't be engaging enough. Deep down, they believed content creation was something only professional creators could and should do. More importantly, they felt their "amateur" work wasn't worthy of being seen. This hesitation isn't about capability. It's about a subtle but pervasive psychological barrier: imposter syndrome around creative expression. So how do less experienced creators overcome this feeling of unworthiness? The answer: let AI elevate the presentation. Many brilliant insights fall flat when expressed purely through text. Let me give you an example. Imagine a device that forcibly translates all arguments and screams into expressions of love. Observers think conflicts have been resolved and are moved to tears, but the people involved are trapped in false harmony, unable to voice their true feelings. Reading that paragraph, you'd probably find it mildly interesting at best—an unremarkable social commentary you'd scroll past in seconds. But this exact concept, when transformed through AI into a visually compelling comic strip, generated hundreds of thousands of views and thousands of likes within 12 hours. The creator did one extra thing: instead of stopping at words, he used AI to transform this concept into a vivid, satirical "Tom and Jerry" style comic strip. This creator uses AI to generate all his comics. AI helped him bypass the skill barrier of drawing, transforming their dark humor into engaging, shareable visual content. The results speak for themselves: this practice helped him gain over 7,000 followers within a month. Comics are just one option. Your scattered notes, messy reading highlights, fleeting inspirations—all can be instantly transformed by AI agents into polished videos, podcasts, presentations, or web pages. This elevation from pure text to multimedia fundamentally changes how you perceive your own output. Visual sophistication isn't just about aesthetics; it's about rebuilding creator confidence. When your work looks "professional," that nagging imposter syndrome dissolves, and you feel genuinely confident hitting that "publish" button. We've been conditioned to think of "input" and "output" as two distinct phases, where we must accumulate knowledge before we can produce anything worthwhile. This is a complete misunderstanding of how creation actually works. The real creative process looks more like this: consume some content, develop understanding, attempt to create, hit a wall, circle back to consume more (this time with specific questions), refine understanding, try creating again... and repeat. "Learner" and "creator" aren't two separate identities. They're the same one. You don't need to wait until you've mastered something before you start creating. When you research to answer a specific question, you're simultaneously a creator and a learner. Medieval European merchants faced a similar challenge, which led them to invent double-entry bookkeeping. Every debit must have a corresponding credit; every transaction must be recorded in two accounts to maintain balance. Creation works the same way. Think of it as "double-entry bookkeeping for knowledge." Every input should correspond to an output: - Read a compelling argument (debit: input)? Immediately jot down your counter-argument or extension (credit: output). - Encounter a great case study (debit: input)? Instantly consider how you could apply it to your own project (credit: output). Only when input and output are recorded simultaneously does knowledge truly transform from cognitive debt into cognitive assets. But here's the problem: balancing accounts isn't easy. Reading is enjoyable; taking notes requires effort. Organizing those notes later? Even more work. To avoid this extra energy expenditure, we often choose to skip the output entry entirely. AI agents dramatically reduce this friction. YouMind's founder, Yubo shared his practice on how to consume 10 podcast episodes in 1 hour while producing content for multiple platforms. Faced with hours of audio, he uses AI to transcribe it into text and rapidly scans for key insights. From the AI transcript, he quickly generates new angles, extracts interesting perspectives, and drafts long-form articles. Then AI adapts the content into social media posts. Listen to someone else's podcast, generate your own ideas. What used to be time-consuming input and burdensome output becomes one fluid motion. When input and output exist in the same continuous space, creation stops being a high-pressure emergency state and becomes a low-friction daily behavior. You don't need to constantly switch between "learner mode" and "creator mode" because you're always creating. This is why, once the workflow barrier is removed, creation returns to a state more aligned with how humans naturally think. Many people suddenly discover even though they haven't become more disciplined, they've simply started producing more naturally. Beyond fear and friction, the third mountain blocking creators is often unrealistic expectations: we believe we must have a unique voice. But to be honest, don't think you're that special. Even experienced creators don't all have distinct, recognizable styles—let alone beginners. When I worked in media, my editor's most frequent advice was: there's nothing new under the sun. Studying others' creative styles and writing about topics others have covered is the necessary path for all creators. After all, what worked before will work again. We need to normalize imitation. Our education systems overemphasize originality, creating unnecessary shame around imitation. But literary and artistic history proves that all mature forms of expression began with imitation. In writing, painting, and music, professional training always starts with extensive copying, transcribing, and replication. Benjamin Franklin documented how he practiced writing by imitating The Spectator: read excellent articles, take notes on their logic, wait a few days, then rewrite from memory, finally comparing his version to the original to identify gaps in language and reasoning. Hunter S. Thompson famously typed out The Great Gatsby word-for-word just to feel the rhythm of great writing through his fingertips. Even Mo Yan admitted that before finding his voice in "Northeast Gaomi Township," he spent considerable time as an apprentice at the "blazing furnaces" of Márquez and Faulkner. If masters do this, why should we feel ashamed? With AI agents, we can now go even further than these masters. We're no longer limited to clumsily imitating the abstract style. Instead, we can use tools to dive directly into more fundamental elements. Beautiful prose and unique voice are the skin. Logic, structure, and narrative strategy are the bones. Take those articles that make you want to stand up and applaud, or those interviews with profound insights. Feed them to AI and ask it to strip away the skin to reveal the skeleton. Learning masters' thinking patterns is far more valuable than superficially imitating their language. When you've absorbed enough mental models and infused them with your own experiences, your style will naturally emerge. If we look at these three barriers together, we see they're really the same issue manifesting at different stages: They all push creation into the future, onto some idealized future version of yourself: I'll start when I'm more mature, when I've learned more systematically, when I've developed my voice. While YouMind is an AI creation agent, we never allow it to diminish human agency. It simply ensures that quality expression no longer depends on natural talent or technique, that consistent output no longer requires superhuman discipline, and that style transforms from a privilege into a structural problem that can be analyzed, replicated, and iterated. AI has made creation accessible to everyone, but it will rapidly become the dividing line between people. Stop waiting for that ready perfect version of yourself. That ideal self will always be in the future. The one who can create is only you, right now, flawed but real. Go create. Now. --- This article and its images were co-created with YouMind.

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