You Are a Writer (So Start Acting Like One)

DEFINING GOOD People often email me excerpts of their work, anxiously asking, “Is this good?” And I can honestly answer I don’t know. I have no idea, and I honestly don’t care to know. I know what I like, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is what works—what’s effective. “Good” is subjective.

A brand is who you are. But it’s more than that. It’s your truest self. The part people remember.

The pursuit of blogging—and the career, success, and fame I thought would follow—had poisoned my relationship with writing. The promise of getting published and pulling in the big bucks distracted me from my true purpose: doing the real work. The work of writing. I was finding clever and convenient ways to avoid writing. I updated my website. I cre

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. Anyone can do this. All it requires is a simple, scary solution: Believe you already are what you want to be. And then start acting like it.

I had no arguments left, so I decided to give it a shot. What choice did I have? All this self-doubt, all this questioning—I was willing to do whatever it took…

Some highlights have been hidden or truncated due to export limits.

As it turns out, content is not king. Relationship is. Start making connections with publishers so when the ideas come, they’ll pay attention to your work.

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.

I had spent years helping other people find their voices. I wasn’t sure I’d recognize my own voice when it came. And truth is, I didn’t. I needed people to tell me when I hit my sweet spot. When I struck a nerve. I needed help. I needed feedback. When I started writing every day without excuse, I didn’t know if my material was resonating with anyon

When I started writing, I had all sorts of anxiety. Who was I, pretending to be a writer? How could I possibly call myself one when I hadn’t even written a real book, when I hadn’t been published or paid for my work? As I began to pursue my craft, I learned something important. (In fact, I’m still learning it, and if the pros I’m learning from are

Are you prepared to work? To persevere? Even when it gets hard? Even when you’re discouraged or lose sight of your goals? Will you still get up each day and write? This is what you must resolve to do. Otherwise, you’re doomed from the start.