The only thing standing between you and your answer is your question.
10 years ago, if you were researching the history of the Olympics, you might ask why Encyclopedia Britannica cost so much. And you would come up with answers: the value of the researchers’ time and expertise; the costs of printing, marketing, and distribution; and the great conspiracy to keep the masses only as educated as they need to be.
The problem is, most “questions” are simply problems. There’s nothing specific and solve-able about them; they’re based in the abstract. And, while there are answers to abstract “questions”, they tend to be reactive rather than proactive.
It’s why you can always get the correct solution to the classic “2 + 2 = ?” and use that answer to get another one. It’s also why you’ll never finish explaining “what social, political, economic, and religious reasons pushed the Allies to form a front against Germany in 1939″, and any answers based on your response will have to hold their own assumptions as well as their predecessor’s.
The right question is usually the next one. Stop asking why people aren’t paying for music (you’ll end up with answers like “downloading is free” and “albums only have a standout track or two”), and start asking the next question. I don’t have the right one yet, but the only way you’ll find it is if you ask.
In 2001, Jimmy Wales asked why encyclopedia articles had to be written by a single author. Sure, there were answers — like the flow of the article and the neutrality of the point-of-view — but they were specific and solve-able.
And the rest is history. At least, according to this Wikipedia entry.
