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You Are a Writer
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The world, it seems, is full of people like this. Closet artists and aspiring authors—people longing to do meaningful, inspiring work. There’s just one problem: They’re not doing it.
Steve Jobs, the founder of Apple Computers, once said, we all long to “put a dent in the universe.” It’s true; we’d all like to leave some kind of impact on this ball of dirt. But most of us, tragically, won’t. We’re afraid of the cost. We’re worried we don’t have what it takes. We’re anxious about the road it takes to get good enough.
Before we even start, we sabotage our work and subvert our genius.
I found my dream not by searching for it, but by submitting to what I had always hoped was true: I was, in fact, a writer. All I had to do was write.
Believe you already are what you want to be. And then start acting like it.
It’s a choice, writing is. One that belongs to you and me. We get to choose it (or not) every single day. So whether the world hears your message—whether you leave the impact you were born to make—is entirely up to you.
Before others will believe what is true about you, you’ll have to believe it yourself.
I wasn’t doing. I wasn’t creating. I was only dreaming. This is dangerous territory, when your creativity hijacks your productivity.
Professional weight lifters don’t get sore like you and I do when we lift weights. They show up, push themselves, build muscle, and go home. Then tomorrow, they get up and do it again. The less they think, the more successful they are.
The same is true of any craft. Soreness is the result of untrained muscle. If you practice every day, you don’t get fatigued. All muscles are built this way, even creative ones. If you do anything long enough, it becomes habitual.
When you start writing every day, you’ll find your groove. You’ll find yourself with a bank of ideas to write about. You’ll get more comfortable with your voice. So will others.
as you connect with your voice and you start hearing you’re not alone, the blank page becomes less intimidating and more exciting.
Good writers practice. They take time to write, crafting and editing a piece until it’s just right. They spend hours and days just revising.
It’s not about writing in spurts of inspiration. It’s about doing the work, day-in and day-out.
Good writers push through because they believe in what they’re doing. They understand this is more than a profession or hobby. It’s a calling, a vocation.
Commit to writing something—anything—today. Maybe it’s just a sentence or a title. But get it on paper (or screen). Write it just to get it out. Right. Now.
Write more, so you can edit more. Starting with raw thoughts then slicing down your fluff to the core essentials is how you get to genius.
Do we remark at the pithy sayings of Confucius, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Jesus because they’re long and exhaustive? Or because they’re short and profound? History proves that those remembered for their words are not always the most verbose.
Writing is about space. It’s about what’s not said. About showing rather than telling. About making every word count.
As the saying goes, good writing is rewriting. If you can say it in fewer words (without sacrificing clarity), do it.
Until you’ve sliced and diced, your piece isn’t ready. Not until you’ve crossed out every word but the ones you absolutely need.
They practice in public. They show up, every day, without excuse or complaint (okay, maybe some complaint). They perform. They go to work. They stop stalling and playing around and actually get stuff done.
Real artists risk failure every time they release their work into the world.
“This business of… being a writer is ultimately about asking yourself, ‘How alive am I willing to be?’” —ANNE LAMOTT
If you’re writing something that matters, people will disagree with you. They may even attack you and call you names.
“Talent alone cannot make a writer. There must be a man behind the book.” —RALPH WALDO EMERSON
Passion is contagious. If you treat people like human beings and write from a place that is deep and true, you will find your audience.
Your readers don’t have it all figured out either. And they will connect a lot more with someone they can relate to. Someone who is honest. Someone who is interested in taking them along on the wild ride. That someone is you.
The Journalist builds his platform on asking questions. The only requisite for this type of platform is curiosity.
The Artist builds his platform by creating art—whether it be music, painting, food, or poetry. The requirement is an eye for beauty.
Artists speak to our hearts, not our minds. They show us—through their art—that another world is possible.
If you are a naturally inquisitive person, a Journalist platform may be an excellent one for you to build. If you are the person who can’t not speak the truth, you might just build a community as a Prophet. If you can’t help but see beauty in the ordinary, and you are passionate to share it with the people around you, you’re probably an Artist. If you’re great at teaching and you’re an expert at something, then maybe you should be The Professor. If you’re great at getting to know people, at drawing people close, at connecting people and building community, then you could build a Celebrity-type platform.
Everyone has a brand. One way or another, you are making an impression on your audience. A brand will happen whether you like it or not. Either you intentionally choose one for yourself, or one will be given to you.
your brand is the manifestation of your identity. It’s what makes you, you. But it’s not just your personality. It’s who you consciously choose to be. It’s an intentional identity you don for the sake of your art.
A writer’s voice is the combination of passion, personality, and people. It’s communication in a way that is both personally fulfilling and relevant to your audience. It’s meaningful and marketable.
If your writing only moves you—and no one else—then you haven’t found your voice.
Every success is a story of community—a complex network of people helping each other. Don’t forget: You can’t do this alone.
Musicians become professionals by playing a hundred live shows. Likewise, writers become authors by publishing a lot of bad work (until it’s no longer bad). In fact, this is true for any creative art.
Publishers are in the business of selling words. They know what they can sell and what they can’t. Therefore, you don’t get to decide what makes a good idea; the publisher does.
For every hundred words I write (which might take about 10 minutes to spit out), I spend about 30 to 60 minutes of editing and rewriting.
You are a creator of content, a wizard of words. They need you. Act like it.
The trick here is to learn to be content with the journey, because you never fully arrive.
the true masters of the craft are those who never grow complacent. They’re never fully satisfied; they’re always pushing themselves a little further.