You’re on the precipice. You want to jump.
You’re ready to get that first book draft together.
It’s the adventure you’ve been waiting for.
It’s as terrifying as if you were on an actual mountain.
But you’re going to go for it.
You want to know how it feels to hold a book with your name on it in your hands.
You want to be a published author.
It matters to you.
You have no idea why.
That was me 8 years ago.
And I did it. Wrote and self-published my first book.
And then what happened?
Well, friends and family called to say they bought the book. They loved the book. They want to write a book. (Yes, the book was about writing a book!)
Then other people, lots of them from out of nowhere, also bought the book.
They wrote reviews about it.
Believe me, it was a real high for a few weeks as the book climbed the best-selling Amazon ladder. New books can do that in the beginning. Mine even hit best-seller in its category.
I felt, wow, I did it.
And the experience changed me.
It’d take writing another book to explain how.
But here are some highlights.
You find out again that you can do hard things
Completing a book was quite a grind at times.
I lost my way on the topic and had to find it again.
I lost hours of work when I missed the notification and the library computer signed me out.
I questioned if I had it in me.
I dithered.
I doubted.
Then I decided. I will dedicate time until I finish this draft.
After hanging in there for months of perseverance, I did.
Then I edited it.
I endured endless changes back and forth with an editor.
And took on learning formatting. And I tried my hand at creating a cover design.
Then, finally, I decided it was done.
I hit publish.
I got to the finish line intact.
You impact people’s lives by example
After reading the book, friends surprised me by saying they now had no excuse but to write their book. I’d inspired them.
And several have now done that.
I hadn’t expected to make this impact.
Especially on people I’ve known for years.
But taking that leap myself made it more obvious that they could too.
Gracious gifts to me came out of the blue.
Like being invited to spend a day with a family friend, helping him think through his novel. He’s been writing it for years and was getting stuck. And he had not shown his work to a soul.
Participating in the creative blossoming of your friends is something else.
What’s obvious to you isn’t to everyone
When you write, insights bombard you.
They’re sparks of light. Patterns repeating. Laws of human nature.
And you want to catch and express them, but you question whether they’re useful to anyone else.
Do other people already know this stuff?
You only find out once you shout into the canyon and see if an echo returns.
So you work with what you have and try to give these ideas their due.
And writing is nothing if not iteration. Editing.
So you make changes. New ideas surface and talk to the old.
They mix and match and you end up with a piece of work ready to share.
Then, you hear from a reader who is energised, relieved or feels seen by your words. You’ve opened a door for them, brought clarity, and shown them the next step to take.
The ideas, so familiar to you, are groundbreaking or a balm for others.
Claiming “I’m a writer” gives you entry to a cool creative world
Yes, you have to claim this status. And ignore all the naysaying voices inside that shriek you’re not worthy.
Every writer has them.
Even the celebrities.
So you can’t shrink back into a small selfless hole.
You’re a writer.
And the more you enter the creative community as a true insider, the more you feel, ah yes, these are my people.
They’re brimming with ideas and eager to test them out.
Addicted to feeling the creative flow.
But, as people, they’re deeply human. Confused, dear, lovely.
And tentative about showing their tenderness to the harsh world.
Just like you.
Communication is connection
What, really, do you do when you write?
You speak to a reader.
And you dive inside your head and heart to see what lies sleeping.
Writing communicates and connects.
That’s the magic.
And what you fear will be challenging in the process turns out to be the easy part.
Grammar, sentence structure, and that niggly overuse of adverbs.
AI tools help with all of this.
What stumps you is not the past participles. It’s finding the right word to express what you know or feel. Landing on the truth.
The words that sound right.
That’s why you have to keep at it. The more you write, the more you train your brain pathways. Over time, the synapses connect more smoothly.
And you feel that blissful ease of connecting one word to another and to a reader.
You start to trust yourself with this craft.
If you have a book inside you, please take a leap and write it.
You won’t be the same.
See you in a couple of weeks.
I’m going to mess around in boats this week. And be out of range. More stories to come.