1 – They value everyone else’s time more than their own. An endless list of daily responsibilities takes precedence.
2 – Their paying gig eats most of their days away, leaving little oomph to pursue their writing.
3 – They think they aren’t good enough.
And all three of those bullshit excuses translate to the same thing: They don’t trust their dream.
If you’re one of those writers, if you’ve lost faith in your ability to tell your story, then we need to chat. Now.
We all get tired, overwhelmed, cranky. We all beat the crap out of ourselves, spend too much time thinking we suck and that other people need us more than we need to write. That this silly dream we have of finishing a book, story, poem, even blog post, isn’t worth missing moments with our kids, spouses, friends.
That’s crap.
Speaking as a parent, what the hell am I teaching my kids about pursuing their dreams if I don’t make time to follow my own? What message do I send about respecting boundaries if I am always available for family and friends and never make time for me? And how else am I going to find out how good I really am if I don’t sit down, shut the fuck up and write?
Rhetorical questions. You get the point.
If you want to write – if you need to write – then please, for the love of all things alcoholic and caffeinated, WRITE.
I want to finish the book I started four years ago, but I’m not sure I have the time now that I have kids.
I write for business every day, but I want to tackle creative writing. I’ve had a story in my head for as long as I can remember. But my job is so stressful, I’m afraid I won’t have the stamina to finish what I start.
I have a great idea for a novella and no clue where to begin, or if it’s even worth bothering.
I get messages like these every day. My response is always the same: Life is about choices.
Every time you choose to do something other than write – something other than follow your passion – you’re saying your work, feelings, hopes are not valuable. Is that what you believe?
Yeah, I get the whole Mom, Wife, Employee, Daughter routine. I live it, too. And I’m proud to say that my oldest (now a teenager) wrote a comic book in second grade and sold copies to his friends for 25 cents. My youngest (10) just finished his first book, which he calls “a series of narrative essays on his life.” And when my very first front page story came out back when I was a reporter, my husband actually cried he was so fucking proud.
No shit, y’all.
So get off your ass – if not for yourself, for everyone else who looks up to you and cares about you. Show them how grownups take the world by the balls. Because you will never have the time to write if you don’t make the time.
And while I have your attention
You know my little Write Raw program? The one where I spend a month helping you bring power and clarity to your voice so you can completely kickass for the rest of your writing life? That sucker goes for $499. And oh-my-fucking-GAWD, that ain’t cheap. I know this.
$499 is, in fact, a pile o’ money.
It’s slightly more than the cost of an XBOX 360. Slightly less than new Nikon camera. And the same price as 3,000 marshmallow peeps. (Yes, I checked.)
It’s also roughly half the price of a 60-inch HD TV, and the same amount as the couch you’d plant your ass on to watch it – instead of following your fucking dream and writing. Oh, and it’s less than the cost of one night with a high-end escort.
What’s your writing – your dream – worth to you?
• • •
Psst. Subscribe to this site in the upper right hand corner and I’ll send you a free copy of my book, “A Writer’s Voice. What it is. Why it matters. And how to develop yours.” Who doesn’t love free shit?
If you need help polishing a work in progress, hammering out a novel or writing any other random thing at all, consider this: The world has too many people who say you can’t. I say you can and you will, and then I’ll show you how.
No Fuckery Allowed. Write on your terms.
In college, I juggled a full course load, a full-time job and a part-time job, and a social life. I’m an overachiever. I sort of specialize in getting shit done.
Lucky for me, this website has become a great way to channel my urge to *do* something. (Read: write.) As it turns out, you need help in that very department. Sooooo, here are four “No Fuckery Allowed” ways to pull it off on your terms.
1 – Writers are not the in business of soothing or comforting.
Just say it. Don’t think about how to make it pretty. Don’t ponder how “a real writer” might arrange the words. If you are writing, then you are a writer. No one can tell the story like you. (Thank you, Michael Xavier.) So be yourself. Holding back for fear of someone else’s reaction is not being true to yourself or your message. We don’t write to make friends with the world. We write because we can’t help it. Ergo, how someone else feels about your words is irrelevant. And don’t let anyone tell you any different.
2 – Writers’ block is a fancy phrase for fear.
So figure out what is scaring you. Then look it in the eye, tell it to fuck off, and write anyway. Putting pen to paper (fingers to keyboard?) is not a terrifying act. If you’re
afraid, you are anticipating a negative reaction to your words. Examine that. Hold it up to the light and see it for what it is – a whole lot of nothing. Writers are conduits. We share messages. Not everyone is going to love what we write, and that is perfectly okay. We’re not curing cancer. Frankly, I’d be more worried if everyone did love it. Strong reactions – love, hate, grief, sadness – mean we’ve punched the reader some place tender. That’s my goal. How about you?
3 – Forget the gear.
On my desk right now, in no particular order: my computer, two 99-cent spiral notebooks, a bag of Ruffles, a mug of coffee, a pack of Marlboro Lights and an ashtray. (Yes, I smoke. Get over it.) Somewhere nearby, I have a few pens, some paperclips, my Kindle and a pile of bills. I write in Word. For this site, I write in WordPress. I carry a notebook and a handful of pencils if I leave the house.
Writers do not need particular software, felt tip pens, leather-bound journals or anything else. Before carrying my notebook everywhere, I was known for grabbing napkins off restaurant tables or shuffling through the glove box for a scrap of paper. If you have something to say, the medium you use to scrawl it on doesn’t matter. Waiting for the right gear is a stall tactic. Stop it.
4 – It’s not about you, sweetie.
I don’t care what you’ve earned, been awarded, overcome or survived. I don’t care if you’re a high school dropout or a PhD candidate. As a reader, I don’t care about you at all – unless you can show me how what you feel relates to me. So stop worrying that you aren’t qualified to write. Stop thinking you haven’t lived enough to write. Stop telling me what you’ve done and connect with me. Show me why I should care. Make me give a shit by sharing your feelings, thoughts and lessons learned. Show me why this story matters.
What reads better?
After a lengthy and successful career in journalism, I decided to take it easy on myself and work from home.
or
My chronic overachieving eventually burned out my adrenal glands. The body can only tolerate so much. When I finally crashed, I slept 16 to 20 hours a day, unable to even shower without help. My choices were either to modify my lifestyle and schedule (work from home) or keep going and risk permanent damage.
The why – the detailed and specific – makes all the difference. Good writers make people feel something.
• • •
Psst. Subscribe to this site in the upper right hand corner and I’ll send you a free copy of my book, A Writer’s Voice. What it is. Why it matters. And how to develop yours. Who doesn’t love free shit?
Top three reasons writers give up
1 – They value everyone else’s time more than their own. An endless list of daily responsibilities takes precedence.
2 – Their paying gig eats most of their days away, leaving little oomph to pursue their writing.
3 – They think they aren’t good enough.
And all three of those bullshit excuses translate to the same thing: They don’t trust their dream.
If you’re one of those writers, if you’ve lost faith in your ability to tell your story, then we need to chat. Now.
We all get tired, overwhelmed, cranky. We all beat the crap out of ourselves, spend too much time thinking we suck and that other people need us more than we need to write. That this silly dream we have of finishing a book, story, poem, even blog post, isn’t worth missing moments with our kids, spouses, friends.
That’s crap.
Speaking as a parent, what the hell am I teaching my kids about pursuing their dreams if I don’t make time to follow my own? What message do I send about respecting boundaries if I am always available for family and friends and never make time for me? And how else am I going to find out how good I really am if I don’t sit down, shut the fuck up and write?
Rhetorical questions. You get the point.
If you want to write – if you need to write – then please, for the love of all things alcoholic and caffeinated, WRITE.
I want to finish the book I started four years ago, but I’m not sure I have the time now that I have kids.
I write for business every day, but I want to tackle creative writing. I’ve had a story in my head for as long as I can remember. But my job is so stressful, I’m afraid I won’t have the stamina to finish what I start.
I have a great idea for a novella and no clue where to begin, or if it’s even worth bothering.
I get messages like these every day. My response is always the same: Life is about choices.
Every time you choose to do something other than write – something other than follow your passion – you’re saying your work, feelings, hopes are not valuable. Is that what you believe?
Yeah, I get the whole Mom, Wife, Employee, Daughter routine. I live it, too. And I’m proud to say that my oldest (now a teenager) wrote a comic book in second grade and sold copies to his friends for 25 cents. My youngest (10) just finished his first book, which he calls “a series of narrative essays on his life.” And when my very first front page story came out back when I was a reporter, my husband actually cried he was so fucking proud.
No shit, y’all.
So get off your ass – if not for yourself, for everyone else who looks up to you and cares about you. Show them how grownups take the world by the balls. Because you will never have the time to write if you don’t make the time.
And while I have your attention
You know my little Write Raw program? The one where I spend a month helping you bring power and clarity to your voice so you can completely kickass for the rest of your writing life? That sucker goes for $499. And oh-my-fucking-GAWD, that ain’t cheap. I know this.
$499 is, in fact, a pile o’ money.
It’s slightly more than the cost of an XBOX 360. Slightly less than new Nikon camera. And the same price as 3,000 marshmallow peeps. (Yes, I checked.)
It’s also roughly half the price of a 60-inch HD TV, and the same amount as the couch you’d plant your ass on to watch it – instead of following your fucking dream and writing. Oh, and it’s less than the cost of one night with a high-end escort.
What’s your writing – your dream – worth to you?
• • •
Psst. Subscribe to this site in the upper right hand corner and I’ll send you a free copy of my book, “A Writer’s Voice. What it is. Why it matters. And how to develop yours.” Who doesn’t love free shit?
If you need help polishing a work in progress, hammering out a novel or writing any other random thing at all, consider this: The world has too many people who say you can’t. I say you can and you will, and then I’ll show you how.