Most people believe writing is a skill you layer on top of thinking. A coating. Something you get better at with practice, structure, templates.
That is the wrong model.
Writing does not package your thinking. Writing is your thinking, made visible. The page does not reflect your ideas. It stress-tests them.
Watch what happens when someone who thinks clearly sits down to write. The structure appears quickly. The logic holds. The sentences land and move on. No throat-clearing, no circling back, no paragraphs that build to nothing.
Now watch someone who thinks in circles try to write. They hedge. They restart. They pile qualifications on top of qualifications because every sentence opens a gap the next sentence has to fill. The prose does not read as bad writing. It reads as unfinished thinking, because that is exactly what it is.
The ancient Greeks called it logos: the unity of thought, word, and reason. Not three things. One thing. The word was evidence of the thought. The thought was tested by the word.
That unity does not show up in the final draft. It shows up in the draft you cannot avoid writing first, the one where everything is still wrong, and you discover what you actually believe by fighting through what you only thought you believed.
Struggling to write a sentence is almost never a writing problem. The sentence is stuck because the idea underneath it is stuck. Fix the idea; the sentence follows.
The brutal implication: if you want to write more clearly, stop optimizing the output. Go upstream. Do the thinking properly. Sit with the contradiction until it resolves. Kill the assumption that was protecting you from the harder conclusion.
The writing will take care of itself.