Writing To Find Yourself

Learning To Be More Authentic Through The

Art of Writing
Allison Vesterfelt
Copyright 2014 Allison Vesterfelt
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic,
recording, or photocopying form without written permission of the
author, Allison Vesterfelt
Interior Design by: Author Launch of Nashville, Tenessee
Cover Design by: Author Launch of Nashville, Tenessee
Cover Photo by: Author Launch of Nashville, Tenessee
Editing by: Stephanie May Wilson
Proofreading by: Daniel Weatherby
Contents
Introduction: Writing To Become .......................................................... 5
Chapter 1: Learning To Show Up ........................................................... 10
Chapter 2: Learning To Listen To Yourself ........................................ 20
Chapter 3: Learning To Wrestle ............................................................ 33
Chapter 4: Learning To Be Okay With Imperfect ............................ 47
Chapter 5: Learning To Let Go Of Control ......................................... 55
Chapter 6: Learning To Speak Up ......................................................... 66
Chapter 7: Learning To Connect With An Audience ...................... 76
Chapter 8: Learning To Rest & Play ...................................................... 86
Chapter 9: Learning To Hope ................................................................. 91
5
Introduction
Writing To Become
This is not a book about writing to sell. Its a book about
writing to become. That is the goal here. To write and to
become ourselves.
This is not a book about how to write a bestseller. So, if youre
looking for that book, you might not find what youre looking for
here. Dont get me wrong. I hope you do write something beautiful,
maybe even something with such universal meaning that millions
of copies are sold. Nothing would make me happier. We need more
books like that in the world.
But, if you ask me, selling a million copies of your book is not
the most rewarding part of writing. And unless your goal is to get
rich quick, it doesnt need to be your first priority.
Our first priority must be to find ourselves on the page. Then,
if we sell a million copies, or if we dont, well be okay. We have
something money cant pay fora sense of who we are and where
we fit in the world.
Everybody wants to be a writer. But not everybody wants to
do what it takes to become a writer: to show up without pretense,
to listen to themselves, to lean in and wrestle, to let go of control,
6
to speak up and connect with an audience. The act of writing wont
change you, it wont even necessarily help you. But the art of writ-
ing, the practice of writingthat will turn you into a better you, if
you let it.
Writing is healing.
Writing is cheap therapy.
Writing can help you find yourself.
That is what brings me back to this terrible, treacherous, in-
credibly painful, slowly-but-surely process day-after-day. Not the
number of copies Ive sold. Its the knowledge that writing is in-
trinsically valuable. I tend to get out even more than I put in.
This is what I try to stress to the writers I work with on a daily
basis.
I spend over half of my time working with writers to help
them brainstorm ideas, craft their writing, re-craft their writing,
edit their writing, re-arrange or reorient their writing or just plain
overcome creative blockages. Most often, writers confide the
main thing keeping them stuck is that there are already so many
people out there who are saying exactly what they want to say, in
exactly the way they want to say it.
Theres no point in my writing they tell me, Its just going
to add to the noise. Due to the number of writers who tell me this,
and the number of times Ive felt it myself, sometimes I wonder if
writers are born with this insecurity embedded into their bones.
Or maybe we are just peopleand this is a people problem, not
a writer problem.
But let me tell you what I try to look in the mirror and tell my-
self, daily:
You are altogether unique. There is no one else like you. Say-
ing, my voice is unnecessary or It doesnt really matter is equiv-
alent to saying, I am unnecessary or I dont matter. If you
7
believe thatand sometimes I wonder if we all do, in a wayyou
are not alone. See if, for today, you can just show up. That might
be enough. Youll see why you matter so much.
This is why I write, ultimately. Not to sell books or to get a
bunch of traffic to my website. The minute I lose sight of this is
the same minute I lose my will to put words on the page.
Have you ever noticed how desperate everyone is to get traffic
to their website? If youre a blogger, or if you exist in the online
space at all, I assume you have noticed this. How could you miss it?
Everybody wants it and all of us are pandering for it like a gaggle
of elementary kids after the explosion of a pinata. Theres only so
much of it. We must have it. Well do anything to get it.
Well write best headlines, concoct the smartest copy, have
the most brilliant SEO. Well tweet and Facebook and pay for adds.
But have any of us stopped to ask why we want all this traffic any-
way?
Has anyone considered what we want to say before we try to
get people to listen?
This was a frustrating and demoralizing realization for me
recently: I spent years trying to get people to listen to me before I
knew what I really wanted to say. This isnt much different, really,
than a middle school girl trying to get the popular kids to pay at-
tention to her before she really believes shes worth the attention
shes asking for. She buys all the right clothes, says all the right
things, puts herself in all of the right social circles and situations.
But when it really comes down to it, she has no idea who she is.
Im thinking of my own inner-middle school girl as I write
this. Perhaps you are too. If thats the case, ask yourself: What is
going to make you happierbeing popular or being known?
Being known, of course, is deeply satisfying in a way being
popular could never be. I didnt used to know that, but Im discov-
8
ering it as I discover myself.
Theres nothing wrong with wanting or getting a lot of traf-
fic on your blog. Theres certainly nothing wrong with wanting to
sell, or selling, a lot of books. Getting traffic can help you secure a
book contract, it can help you make money from ads, it can help
you get your message out therewhich are all important.
Selling books can bring you income, which can allow you to
keep doing what you love. The more books you sell, the more peo-
ple you entertain, the more people you inspire, the more people
are changed by the courage it took to tell your story.
But book sales are not the point. Book sales are simply the
fruit, the natural by-product of understanding yourself and your
message. This is true for the middle school girl I mentioned above.
The sense of belonging she craves isnt wrong. It just wont satisfy
her the way she thinks it will. The same is true for you, as a person
and as a writer. Getting traffic to your site, or even selling a mil-
lion copies, wont fulfill you if you dont know who you are and
what you want to say.
A sense of belonging is the natural by-product of becoming
oneself. If you try to belong first, and become yourself later, you
will lose yourself. If you find yourself, you will discover, remark-
ably, exactly where you fit.
Thats what we are going to do here, together, over the course
of the next nine chapters. We are going on a journey to discover
ourselves. The result may be that you sell a million copies of your
bookor not. But by that time, my gut says sales simply wont
matter to you quite so much.
Youll have what you were looking for all along.
Maybe theres a formula for writing a bestseller. In fact, Im
certain there is, although I dont know it. Even still, I would not
gain any pleasure by sharing it here with you. A Bestseller in-
9
struction manual may be valuable, but let me tell you what is more
valuable: knowing yourself. Seeing yourself. Feeling comfortable
in your own skin. Understanding the value you have to offer to
this world.
For that reason, this is not a book about writing to sell. It is a
book about writing to become. That is the goal here. To write and
to become ourselves.

10
1
Learning To Show Up
Ive spent most of my life trying to be the funniest, the
smartest, and the most interesting writer. Now I realize
the best writers in the world are the ones who show up
exactly as they are.
It was a slow realization, reallyI had no idea who I was. You
would think a person would wake up to this rather quickly, the way
you realize youve lost your keys or youve misplaced your favor-
ite sweater (when was the last time you had it? Tuesday, you think.
Yes, it must have been Tuesday). But it wasnt like that at all. If you
had asked me about the last time Id had myself or known my-
self, I couldnt have told you when.
This impacted every corner of my life, no matter how much I
tried to pretend it didnt. I always felt a little lost in relationships,
first of alllike I was going with the flow of what everyone else
wanted, but didnt really know what I wanted or needed; and even
when I did know, I didnt know how to communicate what it was. I
always had this underlying sensation I was invisible.
At first, writing and blogging felt like the most incredible
solution to this problemlike I finally had a place in my life where
11
I could really be myself. Hidden in my room, with the door closed,
I could say whatever I wanted without worrying how anyone else
would respond. But the longer I wrote, the more I realized showing
up in writing wasnt any easier than showing up anywhere else.
First of all, the hardest part about writing was simply doing
itjust sitting down at my computer and putting words on the
page. This is the hardest part of just about most things in life, if
you ask me. When its time to go to the gym, the hardest part is
putting on your shoes. When its time to get up for the day, the
hardest part is getting out from underneath the covers. When its
time to write, the hardest part is putting your butt in the chair and
actually opening the computer.
The first step always feels like the biggest step. Dont you
think?
And when it came to writing, I always felt this tremendous
resistance right about the time I was supposed to get started. Sud-
denly the laundry would feel very pressing, or someone would call
who I hadnt talked to in a long time or I would realize it had been
at least six months since Id updated my Twitter bio. Id clean the
bathroom or go get coffee or stare at the ceiling for hours before I
would get started writing.
Second, even if I could convince myself to sit down to com-
puter, I couldnt necessarily convince myself to be perfectly
honest once I got there. I would show up to writing the way you
show up to the first dateall clean and polished, in a good mood
and with my best foot forward. But first date me wasnt the real
me, obviously. The real me was the bad attitude, morning-breath,
smelly armpit me. So even if I could convince myself to open my
computer, I couldnt always convince myself to show up, smelly
armpits and all.
I could make a good first impression, but when it really came
12
down to it, the me who ended up on the page wasnt the real, ac-
tual, authentic person. I didnt even know who that person was.
When I read through my old writing nowespecially writing
I publishedI think to myself how distant and lost I sound, how
the true, authentic, intimate version of me was hidden behind the
thick wall of words I was putting out.
I felt so small and invisible in those days, despite my growing
audience. I wanted someone to come find me, but I didnt realize I
was the only one who could find myself.
Showing up might seem simple, but it is incredibly difficult. It
takes strength and insight and practice; and Im starting to think
it happens in layers. We show up as much as we can right now. We
learn. And we show up a little bit more honestly later. Writing
teaches us to do this by teaching us to see ourselves.
Writing is like getting naked. When you show up to the page,
really show up, you cant hide anymore. The white thighs you wish
were a little tanner, or a little thinnerthere they are. The cellu-
lite you usually cover up with loose-fitting pants... there it is. The
blemishes you tend to cover with make-upall right there. When
we come to the page, naked and honest, we hear things we dont
want to hear. We discover things we may not want to discover.
What we learn there is going to turn our world upside down.
Its really going to screw us up.
Not to mention, if we ever share what we have to say with the
world, we open ourselves to criticism and ridicule and shame and
guilt. Anytime I tell someone what Im really thinking or feeling, I
give them a tiny bit of power. I hand them the gun. They can shoot
me with it if they want to.
No wonder we hide. Its a natural reaction to a protect our-
selves. It makes perfect sense. The problem is, hiding doesnt pro-
tect us like we think it will. It just keeps us stuck.
13
Although choosing not to show up might feel safer or more
comfortable, it leaves us trapped and claustrophobic. If you choose
not to show up in your friendships or in your marriage, you will
feel invisible, like your preferences or ideas dont matter. If you
choose not to put on your running shoes, you will continue to feel
bogged down and tired.
If you choose not to get out of bed and open your computer,
your story will stay untold.
Showing up can be chaotic and sometimes awkward. Some-
times I spend an hour writing something Ill just delete. Some-
times I step on someone elses toes. But every once and awhileif
Im luckyit is like magic.
There I am. I find myself and I begin to love myselfsmelly
armpits and all.
A week ago, there were no words on the page of this document.
Today, there are hundreds. There is resistance, but Im pushing
into itthe way you push into a conflict with a friend or co-work-
er, so you can get to resolution. You dont give up. You dont force
your hand. You just lean into it, giving it your weight and trusting
the weight of the other, trying to find balance.
This is the thing with resistance and balance. Most of us are
looking for balance and trying to avoid resistance, but they usu-
ally come together. Resistance actually helps us establish balance.
If you are leaning against a wall, for example, it is the resistance of
that wall which allows you to find your balance. You cant balance
against thin air.
Showing up is not easy. But we dont have to fear the resis-
tance anymore. The resistance is expected and necessary. Showing
up changes everything.
If you decide to show up with me here, as I work to show up
with you, I have a feeling things will begin to change for us. I have
14
a feeling we might see ourselves, and each other, and that connec-
tion might very well alter us both forever. I cant promise it will
be all pretty and well-organized. In fact, I can almost guarantee it
wont.
But somewhere, in the mess of it all, I think youll discover the
voice youve known was there all along; and that voice will guide
you home. Your first step to becoming a writer might very well be
your first step to becoming who youve been all along.
Something To Try: Morning Pages
I first learned to show up from Julia Cameron. She wrote this
beautiful book called The Artists Way which has taught me so
many thingsincluding how to be present, how to show up as a
person and as a writer.
The main practice that really changed things for me is what
Cameron calls Morning Pages. Very simply, Morning Pages is the
practice of waking up every morning and committing your first
thoughts of the day to paper. You can do it in a notebook or on a
computer, whatever works for you, but the gist of the assignment
is this: write for three pages. Just write. Dont edit yourself, dont
pause and think too much, dont allow your inner-critic to get in
the way. Dont try to write something amazing, dont worry about
grammar, and dont ask yourself if anyone is ever going to read
this or not. Dont worry that, when someone does read it, theyre
going to get their feelings hurt. Morning Pages are not for your
reader.
Morning Pages are for your writerfor the writer inside you.
Write for three pages. Cameron says thats the amount of
time it takes you to get over yourself, to get out all of the negative
energy that so often prevents us from showing up in our lives.
15
This negative energy includes regrets about our past and concerns
about the future (Will we have enough money? Will dad make it
through the big surgery? What tragic thing is going to happen
next?). Three pages is about how long we can complain about a
problem without discovering a way to fix it. Three pages is about
as long as we can listen to ourselves whine about something we
cant change.
I started the practice of Morning Pages about ten years ago,
and I use them intermittently in my life when Im feeling espe-
cially blocked. Writers I work with always want to know if I do this
everyday and the answer is, no. I dont think you have to do them
everyday, forever, in order to experience their benefit. But I do
think if we consider them a tool, and use that tool with discipline
during certain seasons, with a specific purpose, well probably dis-
cover ourselves in a way we never knew was possible.
When I first start doing Morning Pages, it usually looks
something like this:
Good morning. Okay, were doing this again. I hate this. No,
seriously, I hate this. Why cant I drink coffee before I do this?
Whats the point? This is stupid. This is stupid. This is stupid. I
cant think of anything else to say except that this is stupid.
But then, usually, after some timemaybe minutes, maybe
daysI get to something like this:
Some days I feel a little bit like Im wandering around in the
dark. Im not sure which way to turn, or even which way is up or
down. Im just feeling my way through. There are a thousand ideas
pointing a thousand different directions and Im not sure which one
Im supposed to follow. And what if I follow one, and it takes me
down the wrong path? What if I follow one, and it takes me some-
where dangerous? Theres just no way to know for sure.
Suddenly, just like that, I get to the real problem: that Im try-
16
ing to know the end of my journey before I even start. This might
not be the most brilliant thing Ive ever written, but it informs me
as a person and as a writer. When we grow in one area, we grow in
both.
When Im able to be present, to bring myself to the table, to
practice the discipline of morning pages even when I dont feel
like it, what I learn about myself there helps me growit helps me
make progress, move forward, get out of my rut. Morning pages as
a practice has a way of doing this for me, which is the reason I love
them so much.
The other things writers always ask me is, do Morning Pages
this have to happen in the morning? What if Im not a morning
person? What if I have young children? What if I have a job that
requires me to be up really early? To that question I always say: if
you can get the value of doing morning pages by doing them an-
other time of day, then go for it. Im not sure you can, but let me
tell you the two main benefits of doing this exercise in the morn-
ing and then Ill let you decide.
First of all, the morning tends to be a really private time.
Chances are, if youre setting your alarm for 5:30 or 6:00am, there
arent going to be many other people up at that time, competing
for your attention. There arent going to be meetings or events
that pop up during those hours that you just cant turn down.
There arent going to be noises or tasks or people begging for you
to take care of them instead of taking care of you.
So the morning is a great time to do this writing because
youll have enough reasons of your own not to show up at the page.
The last thing you need is your spouse or dog or parents giving you
more reasons.
Second, I think there is a freshness to the morning you just
dont get any other time of day. Im a morning person, so Im will-
17
ing to admit this might be my own bias. My brother, who is a pho-
tographer and videographer, says he gets his best work done late
at night because there is an energy to that time of day that he
doesnt find other times of day. But I still have to say there is some-
thing about the morningespecially those first 30 minutes youre
awake. I tend to capture my most honest, most buried thoughts
that time of day.
So if you feel like you can accomplish those things by com-
pleting your three pages another time of day, I would give you
freedom to do so. If we were talking in personif you were a client
of mine, or just a friendI would probably urge you to try writing
early in the morning for just a few days, or maybe a week, to see
what happens. But then I would tell you to trust your intuition and
follow your gut.
This is the beauty of this process of becoming. There are no
hard and fast rules. When we show up and listen to ourselves, we
find our way.
One Last Push: Get On The Plane
The last bit of pushback I usually receive from writers when
I give them this assignment is this: Okay, but I only have a few
hours a weekor, like a few minutes a dayto get writing done. I
cant afford to waste my time writing something I wont be able to
publish. Should I still do Morning Pages? I expect this response. I
anticipate it. I understand it. This was my initial reaction to Morn-
ing Pages as well. And yet, heres what I always say.
If you were going on a trip to another country, youd have
to get on a plane. Youd spend 9-10 hours on the planemaybe a
little less, maybe more. Then, when you arrived at your destina-
tion, youd take a million pictures and enjoy your vacation. This
18
is when all the good stuff of your trip would happen, the stuff
youd want to tell people when you got back home. Then eventual-
ly, youd have to get back on the plane to come home.
When you told people about your trip, my guess is youd leave
out the plane ride. Unless something dramatic happened, you
wouldnt waste your time telling your friends and family about
how you took a dramamine or drank a Baileys in your coffee or
watched a bad movie until you fell asleep. You wouldnt talk about
the microwaved food that was supposed to pass as breakfast, or the
light turbulence on the way down.
No. Likely, youd focus on the museums you visited and the
sights you saw or the friends you made or the food you ate once
you arrived at your destination. But, you would have never made
it to your destination without the plane ride. It wasnt the most
glamorous part of your trip, but it may very well be the most im-
portant.
Try having a vacation in another country without traveling
via plane, bus, boat or caryou wont be very successful.
Think of Morning Pages like the plane ride to your vacation.
They arent the most glamorous thing in the world. They arent
the most presentable part of your writing. When you go home,
chances are youre not going to relay every detail of the plane ride.
Youll probably never share your Morning Pages with anyone. But
without your Morning Pages, you may never have anything to
share at alljust like, without the plane ride, you cant have a vaca-
tion in another country.
Think of a place you really want to go and ask yourself: is it
worth the plane ride? Is it worth the waiting in line, the bad movie,
the microwaved breakfast? If your answer is yes, then ask yourself
this: what about when it comes to writing? Is it worth the minutes,
the hours, the days you will sacrifice in travel for the destination
19
youre trying to reach?
If so, stop stalling and get on the proverbial plane.
Wake up each day and invest in the practice of Morning Pag-
es. It wont be a waste of your writing time. It will teach you what
it means to be present (and to listen to yourself, to let go of con-
trol, to speak up, to connect with otherseverything else I discuss
in the remaining chapters of this book). It will be one of the most
valuable things you ever do as a human and as a writer.
Morning Pages is changing me. Slowly, Im finding myself.
Slowly, Im able to speak up again. Slowly, Im able to show up to
the page and show up to my life and say the things Ive wanted to
say but havent known the words to match them. Slowly Im begin-
ning to see myself and know myself again.
Will you join me?

20
2
Lerning To Listen To Yourself
We find our way, in the beginning, by listening to the
guidance of those around us. But over time we begin to
realize the most valuable guidance comes from within.
The idea for this book came a few months ago. I started notic-
ing I was having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning, and
for that matter, a difficult time falling asleep at night. It was dif-
ficult for me to get myself motivated about things that had once
felt fun; and activities that had at one time been second nature to
mewriting, running, cookingwere difficult and forced. I never
felt like I was getting enough done.
Every night I would pour myself a glass of wine and praise
God it was all over.
Except, it wasnt over.
Usually there were emails to be responded to and last minute
fixes for the blog post and dinner to be ordered (because Id run
out of time to cook again) and any other of a list of various tasks
that begged to be completed. My husband, Darrell, would come
home from work, we would turn on the TV, and plunk away on
our keyboards until we could barely hold our eyes open any longer.
21
Something wasnt right. I knew it wasnt right. But I didnt
want to admit it wasnt right. If I admitted it wasnt right, I would
have to change.
Just a few months prior to this realization, I had published
my very first full length book, Packing Light: Thoughts on Liv-
ing Life with Less Baggage. I had dreamed about the publishing
process for most of my life, and this was the moment, I figured,
when my whole writing life would finally make sense. After all, I
had just achieved my lifelong dream. I was a real writer now. This
was what I had hoped for and prayed for. It was all downhill from
here. Right?
Wrong. Instead, I felt small and exhausted.
The worst part about this season was that writing hadnt be-
come easier, like I thought it would. In fact, if anything, it only felt
more difficult. I would put words on the page and they would seem
pretentious and shallow. I would post articles on my blog like 10
ways to Be More Productive or Five Reasons Youre Not Reach-
ing Your Goals but all along I was having a hard time just getting
out of bed in the morning.
The gap between how I felt and what I was putting out there
was getting bigger and bigger. Everything I wrote felt distant and
hollow.
For months I simply continued on like thistelling myself
there was really no other way, that people who wanted to be suc-
cessful had to work hard and chin up and fake it till you make
it and that if I wanted to be successful, Id just have to get a thicker
skin. But slowly, over time, I began to notice the impact not notic-
ing was having on me, emotionally and physically.
First of all, there was the anxiety.
Ive always struggled with anxiety. Literally, for as long as I
can remember. But there are some seasons where it has most cer-
22
tainly been worse than others. For the most part, it has seemed to
ease in the past several years, as Ive worked through some of my
fears and guilt, in friendships and in therapy. And yet, during this
season, I felt it come slowly back.
This cant be, I would think to myself. Im over this. Im too
mature for this. This is the old me. And yet there was one particu-
lar day when it couldnt be ignored any longer.
My husband Darrell and I had driven to a conference where
wed been invited as guests. We go to at least a dozen conferences
each year, usually with some kind of purpose or responsibility
one of us is speaking or presenting or coordinating something.
But in this case, nothing was expected of us. We were just supposed
to relax and enjoy ourselves. We needed this. Wed been waiting
for it and anticipating it. This was the first time wed slowed down
in weeks.
But as I walked into the conference and began introducing
myself to people, I realized my heart was racing. My breath was
short. My face was hot. I didnt feel like myself.
Ive had dozens of anxiety attacks in my life, if not hundreds,
so I knew right away what was happening. But why now? Why, all
of a sudden, out of nowhere, after years of being relieved from
these symptoms, were they suddenly coming back? I couldnt fig-
ure it out.
I motioned to Darrell I needed to leave, which Im sure was
confusing to him since we had just arrived. But as soon as he saw
the look on my face, he offered to walk me back to the hotel, just
a few blocks away. Once we were safely closed in our room, I told
him what was happening.
My dad, a therapist, says anxiety usually stems from guilt. Ev-
ery time were feeling anxious, he says, we should ask ourselves,
what do I feel guilty about? Ive been through this process so
23
many times, I know the drill. So as we talked, I tried to follow my
usual line of questioning.
When did this start? What might I feel guilty about?
When that didnt work, I decided to try something else an-
other tactic I use in writing. Sometimes, when I dont have words
to explain something, I try to think in images. There are times, I
find, when pictures or even movies in my head help me express
something words by themselves just cant seem to capture.
This case was no different. I had no words, but as I closed my
eyes and tried to paint a picture of the anxiety I felt, I kept seeing
the same image, over and over again: my e-mail inbox.
At first, the images that come in these moments seem per-
fectly absurd. After all, email is just email, right? Who feels guilty
about an email inbox? But the more I allowed myself to stay pres-
ent with that feeling, the more I realized it was true. My inbox
was full of hundreds of emails I hadnt respond to. I had flagged
them as if I planned to respond to them someday, but if I was being
honest with myself, I probably never would or could. They were
just sitting there, like constant reminders I wasnt enough.
And the more I thought about it, the more I realized the email
thing was just a small representation of something much bigger
feeling like I wasnt enough. I felt like a failure for working so hard
and not being able to make it happen for myself and my writing
life.
There had been no big moment like I had hoped for, no
breaking point where the floodgates opened for Packing Light, no
big fat paycheck. My book was selling slowly, steadily. It was get-
ting good reviews. But I wanted something bigger and more flashy
than that. I had expected something better than what I had been
given.
Anxiety. Guilt. Shame. Selfishness. Ungratefulness. Postur-
24
ing. Leveraging. Trying too hard...
This is what I found when I traced it all back. No wonder we
dont want to notice ourselves. Its horribly painful sometimes,
and embarrassing, to notice whats really going on.
As we sat there in the hotel room, I cried. It was the first time
I had let myself admit how sad I was about the pace of life Id taken
on and about my disappointed expectations. So for just a moment,
things were congruent again. I was congruent again. I could exist.
Nothing was fixed or solved or really changed in that moment, but
I was changedbecause for the first time in months I allowed my-
self to listen to what had been true all along, whether Id been able
to hear it or not.
This is what happens when we show up and listen to ourselves.
We find the hidden wisdom we need to make progress. We uncov-
er the most true and authentic version of ourselves. We receive ex-
actly the guidance we needed to find our way home.
Perhaps this is one of the reasons it is so difficult to show up to
the page, like I talked about in chapter one. Because we know, once
we are at the page, there will be no one else to answer our questions
except for us. We will have no choice but to listen to ourselves.

What You Notice When You Listen
The rewards for listening are truly profound but that doesnt
make it any less challenging to do it. Listening to ourselves is diffi-
cult. Its inconvenient. It can be embarrassing and frustrating.
Think about it for a minute. My guess is you spend most of
your day ignoring yourself. Your alarm goes off and your imme-
diate response is, I dont want to get up. Its too soon, too early.
Your body warns you in every way it knows how: you are not done
sleeping yet. But within minutes, youve pushed these feelings to
25
the side and reminded yourself you do not have a choice in these
matters.
You have to get up, to get ready and get yourself out the door.
But before you leave, its time for breakfast. If you were to re-
ally listen to yourself, youd have to admit what you really want
for breakfast is pancakes. Or bacon. Or both. Even more than that,
what you really want is for someone else to cook this breakfast for
you, so you could just read the paper and enjoy. But you quickly
talk yourself out of this desire, telling yourself pancakes are too
many carbs, a restaurant is too much money and making pancakes
and bacon at home would take far too much time.
In fact, if youre like me, youre lucky if you even eat breakfast
at all.
Then, consider what happens when you show up for work.
Your boss makes a passive-aggressive comment to you about be-
ing a few minutes late. Your co-worker, for some unknown rea-
son, moved the files you were working on and now you cant find
them. Youre furious at both of them. You find yourself stomping
around the office, playing out scenes in your head where you haul
your boss outside and punch him squarely in the nose (he deserves
it, hes been doing stuff like this for as long as youve worked here)
or where you call your co-worker out in front of everyone, telling
him how it should really be done. But the minute your anger is
called to attention (someone in the office says, hey Julie, you do-
ing okay?) you ignore yourself again.
Oh, yeah, Im great! you respond with a smile. How about
you?
Its so easy and functional and expected for us to ignore our-
selves. As youre reading these scenarios you might even be think-
ing to yourself: can you imagine what would happen if I didnt
ignore myself? Id be late for workif I even showed up for work
26
and when I got there, Id scream at my fellow employees and punch
my boss! Not to mention, Id be broke and overweight from all the
pancakes and bacon and eating out. That doesnt sound like a very
good option.
Please know that when I talk about listening to yourself, I do
not mean doing everything you tell yourself to dolike punching
your boss or sleeping in so youre late to work. This would be a di-
saster. Think back to Morning Pages from chapter 1. This assign-
ment asks you to put everything down on paper, but it does not ask
publish everything. Putting all your words on paper is simply an
exerciseits a means to an end.
The same is true with listening to yourself. Listening to what
your body, mind and your spirit are telling you is an exercise. Its
an exercise in knowing yourself.
Yes, its inconvenient to notice. Its frustrating to notice. Its
discouraging to notice. It enlightens us to things about ourselves
we may or may not want to know. But if we arent willing to notice
what is happening inside of us and around usif we dont notice
what our body is feeling or doing or how its moving, we run the
risk of missing ourselves.
We run the risk of losing ourselves.
And there is no way we will ever be able to write anything of
consequence, anything that might mean something to ourselves
or someone elseif we dont first know ourselves, if we havent un-
covered who we are and what we want to say.
The Power Of Your Inner Voice
One day I was really struggling to get words on paper. This was
not new. Youll hear me talk about it so many times in this book
27
youll probably sick of it by the end. I was sick of it myself. But on
this particular day my husband suggested I go for a walk and I took
his suggestion.
So I walked, and as I did, I tried to listen to myself. This was
something Id been practicingbeing present with the sensations
in my body and using them as a guide for what I was really feeling,
underneath the thoughts floating through my head. I walked and
listened and sort of prayed, I guess, that I could receive something
clear and sturdy to focus on, in the midst of this murky season.
Within a mile or two of my walking, this phrase came to me,
from somewhere deep inside myself: take care of yourself first...
others second.
At first, I fought myself on this. On the one hand, these words
felt clear and sturdy, per my request. I had felt them float to the
surface, quietly and effortlessly, the way true wisdom usually
does. But they couldnt be right, could they? Consider myself first
and other second? That couldnt be good advice. Could it?
All the phrases of my upbringing fought with the phrase that
had come to the surface in that moment. The last shall be first,
my brain argued. Lose yourself to find yourself, my thoughts chal-
lenged. But no matter how hard my thoughts fought, I couldnt
ignore the clear intention that had risen up in response to my re-
quest. I couldnt explain it, but I also couldnt ignore it.
So I walked home with something that resembled a thought
but that also felt much deeper and more powerful than the
thoughts I usually had:Yourself first, others second. It felt more
like an intention, like a meditation than a simple thought. I didnt
know what it meant or what I was supposed to do with it, but I just
held onto it, trusting the rest would become clear over time.
Later that day, an idea came to me I wanted to get down on
paper. Feeling an energy I hadnt felt in weeks, if not months, I
28
opened my computer and started typing. Before long, I got an
email from a coaching client who had a question she needed me to
answer. I got a text message from a friend who was wondering if I
wanted to go for a walk. My husband was asking me what we were
going to do for dinner. And yet, for some reason, this phrase kept
rising to the surface of my heart: yourself first, others second.
I texted my friend and asked her if we could walk later that
evening, or the next day. I asked my husband if he wouldnt mind
picking up take-out for dinner. I assured him he would have my
full attention in an hour or so. And I closed my email and resolved
to respond the next day.
Miraculously, I was able to get a few thousand words down
that day. With the myself first, others second intention in place,
I was able to clear the blockage and get moving again. It was almost
like my body, my spirit, knew what I needed to do. It knew the solu-
tion to the problem even more than my mind did. But in order to
get there, I had to be presentto show upand know how to listen
to myself.
Follow Your Bliss?
Joseph Campbell says the way to happiness in life is to follow
your bliss. Its simple, he says. Just listen to your passion, to your
gut, to your dreams, and to your desires and they will lead you in
the right direction. My first reactionthe reaction that comes
from my brainis to say that idea is dangerous. If I follow my bliss,
wont I eat an entire sleeve of Girl Scout cookiesThin Mints, ob-
viouslyin one sitting?
How is it possible my feelings could point me in the right di-
rection?
And yet this year I committed to myself I would to experi-
29
ment with this advice and discover where it would take me. I de-
cided I would begin to listen to my bodyreally listenand follow
where it was leading. As Ive practiced this advice, Ive run into one
major problem.
The problem with following our bliss, if you ask me is most
of us dont have the foggiest notion of what our bliss truly is. I
know I didnt. I didnt know the difference between my thoughts
and my feelings. I didnt know how to stay with my desires long
enough to hear what they were telling me. Did I really want a half
box of girl scout cookies? Or was that desire covering up a deeper
desire, one much more terrifying to recognize?
Maybe this is just me. But until I started this experiment, I
didnt realize the hard truth: I didnt have the faintest notion of
what I truly wanted. I hadnt spent enough time listening to know.
Let me ask you this: If I were to tell you that you could quit
your full-time job todayor, if you were in school, you could drop
outwhat would you do? What if I told you I had become inde-
pendently wealthy, and out of the goodness of my heart, I would
like to pay you a hefty salary of $250,000 per year for the rest of
your life to do whatever you want. The only stipulation is whatev-
er you choose has to be meaningful to youand it has some pos-
itive impact on others (so, it cant be playing video games all day
or laying around eating Pringles and watching reruns of Law &
Order). It has to be something purposeful.
What would you want to do?
My guess is, thats not an easy question to answer. Even for me
this is challenging and Ive spent the last four solid years of my life
exploring my answer. Four years ago I quit my full time job, sold
everything I owned and set off on a journey around the country to
become a writer. I was certain thats what I wanted to do forever.
These days, that hasnt changed. Im still certain I want to write.
30
But how involved would I want to be with other people and their
writing? Are copywriting, ghostwriting, editing and coaching just
something I do to pays the bills, or do I really enjoy it? The things I
do because I want to do them and the things I do because I have to
do them seem to play with each other and impact each other and
the lines between the two become really fuzzy.
Sometimes we convince ourselves we like something so we
dont feel so miserable doing it. Dont you think?
Listening to yourself is the practice of separating all of this.
Its the practice of digging down below the surface to get to whats
true. Its figuring out the difference between passion and obliga-
tion. Its uncovering your bliss. This must have been what Joseph
Campbell was talking about. Because if we can get to our blissour
real, actual blissI do think it will lead us in the right direction.
Our instincts are remarkably accurate.
Learning to listen to yourself is an essential part of becoming
a good writer, but it is also an essential part of becoming a whole
person. Without a listener, the healing process is aborted, Miri-
am Greenspan notes in her book called Healing Through the Dark
Emotions.
What would happen if we began to listen to ourselves? What
would happen if we stopped ignoring our instinct, our intuition,
our fear and our pain? What would happen if we quit trying to
pretend like we were already fixed, already put-together; and just
admitted where we actually are?
Perhaps we would find relief from our worry, our anxiety.
Maybe we would uncover the happiness we long for. Maybe we
could give ourselves permission to stop caring so much about how
many many people like us, or how many copies we sell, or how viral
a post we write.
Because we have what we set our for all alongnot fame or
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fortune, but a small and growing semblance of self.
Something To Try: Silence & Solitude
If youre anything like me, your entire day is filled with noise.
Its not all bad noise. Its the sound of your kids giggling or your
husband grinding coffee in the morning or the dull whisper of the
TV in the background. Where Im sitting at my favorite coffee
shop right now, there are conversations happening all around me.
The noise covers me like a warm blanket.
If I lived in the country, away from people and the noises of
the city, the sounds I heard daily would be different than those Im
listening to now. I would listen to the tall grass whisper up against
itself in the wind, the rhythmic hush of waves coming up to shore,
crickets singing their nighttime song.
Instead the noise I tend to hear in my life feels loud and un-
naturaltrains, traffic, horns, voices, television, radio. Theres
very little silence in my life.
Again, its not all bad. But sometimes the very thing we need
to hear ourselvesand therefore to discover ourselvesis the very
thing that scares us most.
Silence.
In addition to the noise I can hear in my life, theres also all
kinds of noise I see and feel and experience. There are so many dif-
ferent sources of input into my day, its hard to even keep track
of them all. E-mail. Facebook. Twitter. Text messaging. Instant
messaging. G-chat. Skype. Were so plugged in, so connectedand
Im really grateful for how technology makes this possiblebut at
some point I have to wonder: if Im spending all of my time listen-
ing to outside noise, how will I ever hear myself? How will I ever
know myself?
32
What would it look like to create more space for silence in our
lives?
Try taking a whole day without background noise. Get away
from the city, turn off your cell phone, your TV, your radio. If
you typically watch TV during the day, take a sabbatical from it. If
youre like me, and youre used to falling asleep to Netflix at night,
try going a few days without it. Create space for listening.
Ive been experimenting with this exercise lately and its in-
credibly uncomfortable, but the experience is also profound.
What if you even just took an hourtook a walkand stayed
present with yourself for long enough to hear whats beneath the
surface, beneath the noise?
What if you listened without judgement to what you find
there? What if you didnt push a feeling awaysimply because
it didnt fit your current paradigm or because you were afraid of
where it might lead? What if you were just honest with yourself?
My guess is if you can stand the silence, youll find that your
intuition is more reliable than you ever realized. Youll find a hid-
den wisdom inside of yourself, like I did: you first, others second.
This inner wisdom might help you overcome the blockages youre
experiencing, show up to the page and uncover the most unique,
most authentic version of yourself.

33
3
Learning To Wrestle
You dont have to know exactly where youre going. You
dont have to have it all figured out. In fact, sometimes
the only way to figure it out is to just get in and start
wrestling.
Have you ever noticed how so much content on the Internet
these days makes life sound easier than it actually is? I dont know
why this has jumped out to me so much lately, but Ive gotten to
the point where I cant even stand it anymore. I cant even read
Twitter. It just makes me want to throw things. It makes me want
to scream, One God-forsaken blog post is not going to change
your life!
Clearly, I have anger issues around this topic. But you get my
point.
On the one hand, I get why this is. There is a demand for whats
easy. People dont want to do the work. If we can reduce the truly
awful, uncomfortable, unpleasant, difficult things in life to a list
if we can promise them that following that list is going to make
those awful, unpleasant things simple and even funno wonder
readers flock to it. I would flock to it, too.
34
The only problem is this stuff doesnt work. Not in the long
run. Not when the rubber meets the road. Not when mom gets
Cancer or the debt-collectors call or when your spouse admits
there is someone else. In these moments, no list can console. No
list can bring healing. No list can restore your marriage. No list can
give wisdom. There is only your pain, your story and the tiny bit of
hope that keeps you moving.
If we are going to write something that mattersfor ourselves
or anyone elsewe have to learn how to write that. If we are ever
going to uncover ourselves and move beyond ourselves, we have to
be willing to move outside of the five simple ways and 10 quick
steps and admit that life doesnt happen in lists.
Lists and how-tos have their place. I can name a dozen self-
help books that have helped me help myself in my life. Mostly,
theyve helped me put language to the things I was already experi-
encingwhich helped me change the stories I was telling myself.
But real life change doesnt happen in lists. Real life change
happens when were willing to fight, willing to wrestle.
The problem with lists is that they make life sound much eas-
ier than the life I actually experience. They make it seem like, if
you follow this simple formula, or buy this product, or complete
these stepsone, two threeeverything will fall into place. But the
reality of my life doesnt live up to this expectation. Nothing that
matters in my lifemy faith, my marriage, my journey of finding
myself, my writinghas occurred because I have followed a list.
Nothing.
Lets take marriage for example. I read every marriage book
known to man before I got married. I dog-eared the pages and
highlighted and processed through all the advice by writing about
it in my journal. I was also in my late twenties and had watched
most of my friends get married first. I had learned from them,
35
asked them questions, been curious. By all accounts, I was ready
to get married.
But nothing could have prepared me for marriage like be-
ing married. Nothingno list, no book, no advice, no formula
could have readied me for what I would feel when another person
pressed in so close to me. No one could have prevented me from
feeling so utterly lost in the middle of a conflict. No book could
have taken away the pain of rejectionan inevitable part of being
close to someone.
The books I read gave me tips and strategies and insights and
tools that have helped me in my marriage. But none of them have
made it easy. Its a struggle. It should be. It is why we say the im-
portant things in life are worth fighting for. We wouldnt put it
that way if it werent exactly that: a fight.
So lists can do what lists can do but they cant save us from
the inevitable fight. And if we want our marriages, our careers,
our writing or ourselves to become something beautiful, we have
to be willing to wrestle with them. We have to be willing to ask
questions, to roll around on the ground a little, to mess stuff up, to
really get our elbows into it.
When I try everything the lists have to offer and its still not
working, will I keep fighting? When the advice, the tactics, the tips
and techniques make me feel like a failure, will I keep showing up?
Am I willing to listen to myself, to find my own way, even when
the way others have traveled isnt working?
Am I brave enough to create my own roadmap?
My answers to these questions will determine my success. Not
how many self-help books Ive read and not how many copies I sell.
I dont have to have all the answers before I get started. I just need
to have enough heart, enough passion and enough gumption to
stay in it to the end.
36
Its Okay To Be In It
Theres a scene from the movie Garden State that I really love.
The two main charactersAndrew and Sam (played by Zach Braff
and Natalie Portman) go for a swim in a pool late one night and
then find themselves sitting in front of a blazing fire, drying off.
Sam looks at Andrew and Andrew looks at Sam. They exchange
charged glances but no words.
Then Sam says, Youre really in it right now, arent you? An-
drews mother has just passed away, and he isnt sure exactly how
to grieve the loss. Hes been on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety
drugs for so long, hes not sure how to feel much of anything any-
more. But now that hes met Sam, you can tell he is considering
coming out from his hibernation and feeling something again.
Sam explains how this is something her mother used to say
when she was really deep in thought about something, when it
seemed like she was really trying to wrestle with something or
work it out. She would say, youre really in it right now, arent
you?
Ever since I saw that movie, Ive loved that phraseand that
ideaof being in it. I find myself in it on many occasions and
wonder if this is not a prerequisite for good writinga willing-
ness to lose ourselves inside of something, a piece of writing or a
subject. I wonder if we have to learn how to lean into something,
to grow our tolerance for the fear we might feel, the pressure, the
pain of leaning against something that doesnt necessarily feel
steady or safe.
To me, leaning in means were willing to accept that the pro-
cess of being present with ourselves, listening, wrestling, letting
go, speaking up and connecting with a reader doesnt just hap-
pen once. It happens over and over again, every time we choose
37
to show up to the page. Im learning to grow my tolerance for this
process, to expect that it is going to be a little bit uncomfortable,
that it might not feel good while Im in it but that Ill sure be glad
I leaned into it when I find the peace and balance Ive been looking
for on the other side.
Ive been working with a writer recently who complained to
me that shes been (as she put it) obsessing over her manuscript
lately. I asked her to describe to me what this look like and she said,
I lie awake at night thinking about it, I wake up in the morning
thinking about it, I sometimes will lose all concentration from
work in the middle of the day thinking about it... it occupies my
whole life and all the space in my mind. I told her, that doesnt
sound like obsession to me. It sound like youre in it.
Most of us, I would argue, avoid or resist getting in it. Were
worried that if we really let ourselves go, really dive down to the
bottom of this, really allow our heart to break open and end up
on the page, disaster will strike. Tragedy will happen. Im not sure
what we think that will look like. But I think most of us resist al-
lowing ourselves to sink to the bottom, so to speak.
So I told her the fact that she was in it right now with this
project probably wasnt a bad thing at all. In fact, it was most likely
a really good thing. It meant she was really willing to get her hands
dirty and get to work. It meant she wasnt resistant to getting in
it, she wasnt scared to really dive down deep.
Thats the kind of resilience we need if were really going to
discover our true voices in writing.
Satisfaction-Or-Your-Money-Back Guarantee
Im a writer by passion, by necessity and by training and yet
I still have to struggle. I have a bachelors degree in writing and a
38
Masters degree in teaching writing. Ive been writing since I was a
child. I just discovered, the other day, that I wrote my first book
when I was in the fourth grade. Ive always been admired and
praised for my writing and Ive taught hundreds of students to
write as well.
But it doesnt matter how much training I have, or how skilled
I am. There is no formula to follow when it comes to good writing.
As I sit down to write this eBook, I still have to wrestle.
I have skills and tools Ive learned over the years. Ive read
dozens of writing books. I take whats helpful from each of those
books and come up with a process that is mostly good for me. It
works most of the time. But it is not a sure-fire, guaranteed-or-
your-money-back kind of thing. Its a process. And I have to be
willing to wrestle.
This it the hardest thing for me to teach the people who come
to me and want help with writing.
Recently, one of the writers who I coach asked me about my
refund policy. She was committing to three months of one-on-one
coaching and she was dead-set on completing a memoir shed been
working on. I could hear the desperation in her voice. It was like a
woman giving birth to a baby, a primal uttering from the deepest
part of her soul.
The truth is, I felt for her. Ive been in her position. Ive heaved
the breath of the birthing process and lived through the pain of
pushing out. Not literally, but figuratively. I have not given birth
to a baby, but I have given birth to a book and I knew how she felt.
Not to mention, when writers enter into the coaching process
with me, I know theyre taking a huge risk. Theres the financial
risk, first of all, but theres also the emotional and practical risk.
What if they invest all this timethree monthsand they dont
end up with what they hoped? What if they save and save and save
39
and invest every last penny, and it isnt what they wanted? What if
they get halfway through and get stuck? What if they share their
deepest, darkest secrets with me and I betray them? What if they
share their idea and I steal it?
These are the questions we all ask as writers and people who
choose to show up and be ourselves.
And at the same time, no one had ever asked me about my re-
fund policy before, so I told her honestly I didnt have one. I asked
her if I could take few days to think about it.
As I thought about it, I had a realization that fundamentally
changed the way I thought about the coaching process. It went like
this:
Formulas, lists, money-back guaranteesthey make us feel
so safe, dont they? They help to settle our anxieties, to calm those
questions that ask, what happens if this doesnt work out? They
make us feel like, no matter what happens, everything is going to
be okay in the end. But is it even honest to guarantee someone
anyonethat everything will work out? Can I promise you that, if
you work with me for three months, youll finish a book or your
book will be good or it will sell? No. This is part of the beauty and
the pain of writing and becoming ourselves. There are no guaran-
tees. Selling a guarantee to success is like promising to give you
air. Its theresuccess is there, it existsbut how do we really hold
onto it?
And come to think of it, what if those anxieties we feel when
we are asked to show up to the pagewhen we put our money and
our time and our heart-energy where our mouth isare exactly
the fuel we need to find our way out? It hurts like hell. Theres no
denying that. And theres no guarantee it will be anything mean-
ingful or good. Theres no guarantee it will matter to anyone else.
But if its ever going to matter for youfor mewe have to be
40
willing to wrestle.
So I emailed her back and told her I couldnt offer her a mon-
ey-back guarantee for coaching. It wasnt because I was unwilling,
or because I was trying to be jerk. It was because I cant offer any-
one that kind of guarantee about writing or about finding them-
selves. It doesnt work like that and it would be dishonest of me to
promise something I cant deliver by myself.
I told her that if she wanted to finish her book, she was going
to have to be as committed to the process as I was (if not more). She
was going to have to ask the hard questions, to have a high toler-
ance for pain, to fully surrender to the birthing process. I told her
that if that didnt seem like something she wanted to do, I totally
understood. There was no pressure on my end of things. I would
give her full refund now, before we started.
I didnt hear from her for a few days, and I honestly figured
that was her answer. I assumed she was going to opt out. But 48
hours later I got the e-mail: Okay, Im in, she said, But I have a
list of questions.
Good. I thought to myself. Questions are an excellent place to
start.
New Life Comes
A friend of mine recently had a babyan actual baby, not a
book babyand last time we got together we spent some time
talking about the birthing process. Her labor was really long, so al-
though her intention was to give birth naturally, without the use
of drugs, eventually (after 22 hours) the doctors began to worry
that if she didnt have an epidural, she would not have the energy
to push when it came time.
At that point, she explained, she was way too tired to fight
41
them. Shed been laboring for nearly a day, so all idealistic pictures
of how the birthing process was supposed to go in that moment
flew out the window. She signed the papers and before she knew it,
the anesthesiologist was standing next to her and she was feeling
like she had just died and gone to heaven. The pain had stopped
and nearly an hour later, she gave birth to her little girl.
We sat in awe together for a moment at the marvels of mod-
ern medicine. We couldnt help but think about how often wom-
en used to die in childbirth, or lose their babies, before all of these
other measures were possible. Im still not sure if this experience
fits perfectly into the analogy of what it means to labor over the
writing process, or the process of becoming. But it makes me think
this: The process is not safe. Its not pretty. Its not all neat and
wrapped up with a bow.
Thank God for modern medicinefor the equivalent com-
forts and therapy and access to people and things that soothe our
wounds. Without these things, we may not survive. Our bodies
might, but our souls might die. But the birthing processthe pro-
cess of bringing human life into existencehas never been a safe,
easy, clean process. It has always been a messy one. And no amount
of medicine or numbing or therapy or writing coaching could ever
change that. Anyone who sells you a guarantee is lying.
So then, what is my role as a writing coach? Ive struggled with
this a little bit. If I cant guarantee you an outcome, what is my
role?
A marketing coach would say Im supposed to tell you about
the tangible benefit I will bring and about the problems Im going
to solve if you choose to hire me. And Im sure theres a place for
that, but if Im really speaking my own truth, none of that feels
like the whole picture to me.
To me, that feels a little like a guy taking a girl out to coffee
42
for the first time and promising he wont break her heart. He cant
keep that promise. It doesnt work like that.
Relationships and writing are both delicate balances. We have
to learn to lean against each other and depend on each other, and
when one person shifts his or her weight, of course it will have an
impact on the other. You cant promise it wont.
So as a writing coachand even as I type this bookI feel little
bit like a pastor trying to explain the way to spiritual healing, or
the way to heaven. The words reach toward something that is real
and good, but the words arent enough. Words are insufficient to
describe spiritual realities. Faith is not a linear, step-by-step pro-
cess. Neither is writing. Neither is finding yourself.
People who have faithlike people who have written some-
thing of consequence, who know the sound of their own voice
have done so because theyve wrestled.
Theyve asked the questions. Theyve felt the feelings. Theyve
shown up and theyve listened to themselves. And at the end of the
day theyre willing to admit they dont have it all figured outbut
that theyre going to continue to do all of those things. Continue
to show up. Continue to listen. Continue to wrestle.
As for me, as a writer and a coach, I cant make any promises.
All I can do is what I know to do, which is keep showing up, keep
listening to myself. I cant worry about how all of this ends, I can
only remember how it always beginsa willingness to endure the
pain of struggle until new life comes.
Something To Try: Write Now, Edit Later
Is there something youve been wanting to write, meaning to
write, dying to writebut youre putting it off because you dont
have the answers? What if you just tried this. Write now. Edit lat-
43
er. This has been one of the hardest tasks for me to learn as a writer
but it has also been one of the most important.
My tendency is to write now and edit now. In other words, I sit
down to the computer and edit myself as I go. I type out a sentence
and think to myself, I shouldnt have used that word, or the
reader doesnt need to know that, or what a dumb thing to say.
Then, after awhile, when this inevitably doesnt work, I sit down to
the computer and think to myself, who cares about the reader? I
dont give a rip about the reader. Im doing this for me.
Either way, I never make much progress with my writing. The
creative process is never as satisfying as I want it to be. The editing
process doesnt produce the product I hoped it would.
I wish writing wasnt such a process, dont you agree? I wish I
could just sit down to my computer, type out a few words, and have
suddenly created a masterpiece. I dont like the patience writing
takes. I dont want to get on the plane to my vacation. I just want
to snap my fingers and be there. I wish I could just arrive in one
sitting. I dont think Im alone in this.
I remember talking to an author once who mentioned how
frustrated she was that her book was taking so long to complete.
I asked her how long she had been working on it, and she told me
six months. I nearly spit out my drink. Oh my, I wanted to say. If
you can write a book in six months, youre doing great!
Part of becoming a writer, in my experience, is learning how to
sit with myself in this process, learning how it feels to let an idea
percolate until its ready, to allow myself to show up to the page all
disheveled and grammar-less; to go back and clean things up later.
So I often edit myself as I write, which leads to stilted, con-
trolled writingor I free-write and then never edit, which leads to
messy, convoluted writing. Either way, I am not living up to my
potential as a writer or as a person.
44
There is a parallel here for how we live our lives, if were will-
ing to see it. We cant edit our lives while were living them. We
have to live now, with abandonspeaking up when we feel pas-
sionate about something, moving forward with conviction and
without fearand then edit later. Later, we have to sit down and
reflect, asking ourselves honestly what worked and what didnt
work, being truthful with ourselves about our real intentionsthe
ones hidden behind the one we want everyone to think we had.
The editing stage is where we adjust for next time. Its where
we say, I shouldnt have said that or done that. I was acting selfish.
Im so sorry. Its where we confront ourselves so we can change.
Editing is when we clean things up, clear things out, have a
good, long, hard talk with ourselves or those around us. Its where
we ask for support, get critical, develop the willingness to go back
over things again, and again and again until we get them right.
This must be a regular practice in our lives if were ever going to
grow or make any progress, but we cant always be editing. We
have to live firstto write firstand then edit later.
If youre anything like me, you recognize that the writer in
you and the editor in you are two different people. Or, at the very
least, theyre two different sides of the same person. The writer
in me says, go! Write! Get the words on the page! Or, go! Jump!
Start that project! Take that leap! Meanwhile the editor in me says,
wait, have you thought this all the way through? You could start
the story in the wrong place or forget a comma or misrepresent
the characters. Are you sure you want to risk that? Do you have an
outline? Are you really ready?
The editor in me says, You could make a fool out of yourself!
Or, This could be dangerous! You could lose your savings or break
a leg or ruin this friendship. Dont do that or say that unless youre
totally sure its the right thing to do.
45
Even now, as I write these few paragraphs of this particular
chapter, I have to stop myself from editing as I go. My tendency is
to go back, to re-read, to comb and obsess and wonder about gram-
mar. But the tendency to stop and obsess is holding me back from
the words I need to get on paper, it is holding me back from discov-
ering the kind of writer I could be.
If I think of myself as a sculptor. I need raw materials first,
before I need a chisel. Write firstget your raw material. Edit
laterdont get to precious about anything youve written. Bring
your chisel.
We think writing and editing at the same time is going to
make our manuscripts cleaner and our lives more exciting. But in
fact it does just the opposite. To write, and to find ourselves in our
writing, we have to let ourselves go.
When Im writing morning pages, I let myself go. I dont feel
pressure to make it readable or likable or marketable. The only
pressure I feel is to show up at the page. I choose to be present, to
listen to myself, and to engage in the process by wrestling through
my thoughts and feelings. When I start to feel overwhelmed, I
remind myself not to worry about how this will all turn out. Ive
done this before. Ive wrestled before. Its always uncomfortable.
But theres a huge payoff for it. There is nothing like it. I want to
do it again.
And so because there is no pressure with morning pages, I can
just bejust existon the page. I can lean into it fully. I intuitively
and instinctively put it all out there, my whole self, in that private
place. Im the one who gets to decide later (when its time to edit)
what should be shared and what should be held back, but for now,
there is no question. Everything goes. Everything comes. Every-
thing is on the page.
The more I do this, the more I learn this is the only way for me
46
to really find myself.
Most of us, I would argue, are writing now, editing now. Were
not leaning into our lives, or our writing. Were holding back.
Were scared what would happen if we really let ourselves go. Were
scared what would come out, terrified of what we might find.
But what if you practiced writing in a journal, or on a type-
writer, instead of a computer? Or, what if you put a piece of tape
over your delete key? What if you promised yourself you were go-
ing to write a certain number of pages, without looking back?
What if you just wrote, everyday, without giving your inner
critic any room to speak up? What if you wrote without stopping
for long enough to edit yourself? What if you just learned to trust
yourself?
My guess is it would be really uncomfortable. My guess is you
would have to wrestle. But my guess is you also might find your-
self there, on the page. You might discover a story you didnt know
was there. You might become the writer, and the person you were
meant to be all along.

47
4
Be Okay With Imperfect
The best writers and the best stories in the world arent
focused on perfect. There is no such thing as perfect. The
best writers are willing to give up the story they wish
could be in order to tell the story that is.
Im not much of a fiction writer. I only took one fiction writ-
ing course in college and I was by far the worst fiction writer in
that class. But the most memorable thing I learned from my pro-
fessor that semester was this: the primary thing that makes a fic-
tional character believable is that they are imperfect.
They are a mixture of right and wrong, good and bad.
I found that so fascinating, and to this day, I think of it often.
The thing that makes a fictional character seem most like a real
character is that they dont live up to your expectations of them.
So, in other words, a cheerleader who is the most popular girl
in school, speaks like a valley girl, and cant wait to find out if she
made cheerleading squad is not the most believable character.
What would make her more believable, more relatable? If we saw
her behind the scenes reading Steinbeck. Perhaps she is intelligent
in a way she feels afraid to admit to anyone around her.
48
Think of your favorite character for a minute. It can be some-
one from a TV show, a book or a movie.
Do you have it? Ask yourself how that character surprises you.
One of my favorites is Rory Gilmore from The Gilmore Girls.
Rory is a sweet, studious, bookish young girl whos closest confi-
dant is her mother. In the first few seasons of the show, you get to
know her pretty well. She is an avid reader, goes to a private school
and is an obsessive rule-follower. At one point, Rorys mother Lo-
relai admits Rory has never done anything wrong in her entire
life. She hasnt gotten a bad grade, hasnt been caught smoking,
hasnt shoplifted.
Not a candy bar, not a lipstick. Lorelai exclaims. She forgot
to return a library book once. And she was so guilty about it that
she grounded herself. I mean, can you imagine? Shes just sitting
there in her bedroom yelling at me, Now no-one else got to read
the Iliad this week because of me!.
There are a few quirks that make her an authentic, believable
character. She and her mother watch too much TV. She keeps her
distance from the posh, uptight cotillion world of her class-
mates. She lives in a small town filled with quirky, out-of-the-or-
dinary people who would no doubt be rejected by the students and
families of her fancy private school. Even her grandparents, who
live in the uppity town just 20 minutes away stand in stark con-
trast to where she spends her eveningsin Stars Hollow, the un-
impressive, strange, down-to-earth place where she has grown up.
But the most interesting dichotomy comes about five seasons
into the showwhen Rory loses her virginity. Up until this point,
shes put off sex with two boyfriends, both of whom she loved. The
writers of the show have established Rory as the cautious, careful,
logical, analytical, pro-con-list kind of girl. But caught in the heat
of the moment with her ex-boyfriend, she finds herself in bed
49
with a man for the first time.
And I suppose this wouldnt be so hard to believeafter all,
even a conservative, studious girl can find herself falling for a
handsome young man. It wouldnt be so hard to believeif he
werent already married to someone else.
The unexpectedness of this action, the out-of-the-blueness of
it, the seeming contrast to her usual conviction and personality is,
strangely, what makes it so believable. The reason we dont have a
hard time wrapping our brains around why Rory would make this
decision, and the reason why we can identify with her so closely, is
that we are all a mix of good and bad.
We are all oxymorons.
Ive been thinking about this recently because one of the pri-
mary ways I make a living is by helping others speak their stories
and unlock their creative powerand yet, for weeks, Ive been
stuck myself, feeling like the biggest fraud because I havent been
able to bring myself to do morning pages, cant take my own ad-
vice, cant get myself out of bed in the morning periodlet alone
to show up to the page.
Every time I sat down to write, I would think to myself, okay,
write something awesome... the very mantra I warn other writers
will sabotage their process before they even start. Ive been numb-
ing myself with noise, music, TV, activities, busy-nessto the
point I cant hear my own voice. Meanwhile, Im supposed to be
the teacher here. How am I supposed to help other writers when I
cant even help myself?
Or how about the fact that Im an all-natural, organic, granola
kind of girl, but in private, when no one is looking you might very
well find me sipping a Diet Coke? If you asked any of my friends,
they would tell you Im really pretty careful about what I eat. Im
gluten free. I tend to cook from scratch, with as many real foods
50
as possible. I try to avoid sugar and its substitutes. But Id be lying
if I said, at the end of a hard day, I dont still kind of want to crack
open a cold Coke Zero and drink up.
It doesnt make any sense. It doesnt fit with what you to know
about meor at least with what I project to the world about myself.
But at the same time, it does. Its unexpected. We are unexpected
beings. We are a mixture of good and bad.
Nice People Make Bad Writers
You might be wondering: what on earth does this have to do
with writing, and why do I care?
Let me give you an example.
When I wrote my first draft of Packing Light, I did my best to
honor the stories of everyone involved. I knew I was going to have
to write about several people who wouldnt get a choice about how
they were painted in my story and it was important to me to honor
this privilege. One person in particular was a guy I had dated while
I was traveling. The relationship had ended badly for me, and since
since I didnt want my pain to color the story too much, I did my
best to paint him in a positive light.
To be honest, this was a struggle for me. Although I had since
married and moved on myself, I never really got the closure I want-
ed with that relationship. So as soon as I started writing about it, I
found myself wrestling through a lot of negative feelings again. I
was terrified to be present with those negative feelings, to listen
to what they were telling me. After all, I was married now. I had no
business being angry at an ex-boyfriend. Not to mention I was a
really nice person! I didnt have anything negative to say about
anyone. Did I?
So I tried to push those negative feelings down and keep the
51
details about this relationship to a bare minimum. By the time
I turned the manuscript into my publisher, I thought to myself:
Whew, thank God that is over and I never have to think about it
again.
That is, until my editor got her hands on it.
This character and storyline is falling a little flat to me, was
the way she put it, I think. I just feel like youre holding back. She
was right, but in order to not hold back I was going to have to let all
my negative feelings about this person and this circumstance boil
up to the surface. I was going to have to be present with those feel-
ings, to listen to them, to wrestle with them and to admit that both
of usmyself and this other personwere a mix of good and evil.
This meant admitting I was not as nice and neat as I wanted
people to believe. There was a lot of unexpressed fear and anger
inside of me. It also meant letting him come down off the pedestal
Id put him on so long ago. My heart had been broken. I was more
affected by his rejection of me than I wanted to admit. And, if I
was really being honest, wed both made some pretty significant
mistakes. He was not perfect and neither was I.
This was not the, Ive moved on, you-cant-hurt-me story
I wanted to tell. It wasnt the, youre-such-a-swell-guy, just-not-
the-guy-for-me story I wished it had been. But it was the true
story, the one where two people, who were both a mix of good and
bad, got tangled up with each other.
When I was able to write that story, the true story and not just
the pretty one, it came off the page in a new way. When my edi-
tor read the final copy, she said, The whole thing makes so much
more sense now. It wasnt cut-and-dry. Wemyself and this other
guydidnt stay in our categories. But I told the messy, confusing,
convoluted truth and because I did that, it was believable.
Since then, as Ive grown as a writer and as a person. I see even
52
more ways I could have shown up to the page. Ive discovered new
ways I wasnt really listening to myself. Ive noticed areas where I
was holding back, where I wasnt willing to wrestle. And if I had it
to write over again now, I think I would be able to admit even more
of the nuance I couldnt see or couldnt admit then.
But I am surrendering to the process of becoming an authen-
tic writer and an authentic person. Im allowing myself to see peo-
ple, and to see my circumstances, as a mixture of good and not-so-
good.

Sitting With Yourself In The Dark
One of the scary things that happens as you begin to be pres-
ent with yourself, to listen without judgment and to wrestle with
what you find there is youll likely begin to have strong feelings
about people, places and things you didnt notice before. As you
work through your morning pages, for example, you might find
yourself writing about negative feelings toward your dad, or your
job or even your spouse. Perhaps these feelings were not apparent
to you before or perhaps they were, but my guess is you didnt real-
ize how much they were affecting your day-to-day life.
Its important to honor these feelings and give them space to
exist. I used to think the opposite was true. I used to be so afraid
of feeling anger, fear or jealousy, I would push those feelings away
until I couldnt see them anymore. But negative feelings we have
pushed away are like a beach ball weve pushed underneath the
water. Theyre still theretheyre just waiting for a space and op-
portunity to pop out again. The only way to move through these
feelings is to admit them, honor them, and allow yourself to feel
them fully.
We have tended, in the past, to see these feelings as totally
53
negative. It makes sense. I understand how we get there. I read an
article a few years ago about a man who burned down his house
with his wife and two daughters insidebecause he found out his
wife was cheating on him with his best friend. Feelings like grief,
fear and jealousy can be dangerous emotions in the sense that they
lead us to make dangerous decisions.
But, as Barabara Brown Taylor suggests in her book, Learning
to Walk in the Dark, perhaps we dont need to dismiss difficult
emotions nearly as much as we need new strategies for dealing
with them.
If we dont find ways for staying with ourselves, even when
we feel these difficult emotions, we run the risk of losing missing
ourselves altogether, of losing our voices. Were all a mix of good
and bad. Were a complicated, confusing, mix of anger and gen-
tleness, good intentions and selfish ones, wisdom and insolence,
hard-headedness and tender compassion. If we dont allow our-
selves to see, or to admit, the less attractive qualities about our-
selves, how will we ever be able to see the more attractive ones?
How will we become believable to our reader?
How will we appreciate ourselves and learn to love ourselves
for who we are?
How will we ever be able to truly love anyone else?
Something To Try: Reenacting A Conversation

For a moment, think with me about the last time you were re-
ally hurt by someone. Perhaps it was a boyfriend or girlfriend and
things didnt end the way you hoped they would. Maybe it was a
parentsomething they said or didnt say, something they did or
didnt do. Maybe it was your spouse. Perhaps there was an argu-
ment or other confrontation that wasnt handled how you wished
54
it would have been. Do you have something in mind?
Now, I want you to do something with it.
I want you to write the dialogue. Exactly as it happened. Dont
improvise or exaggerate. Try to represent it as closely as you possi-
bly can. Consider what Ive already discussed about life being nu-
anced, about everyone being a mix of good and evil. Dont forget
to include yourself in that space.
Dont go back and read the dialogue until you are complete-
ly done (write now, edit later). In fact, when youre finished, you
might want to wait a few hours or days before you revisit it. But
when you do revisit it, make a list of a few things that surprise you.
Make sure you include a few things about yourself, as well as a few
things about the other person. What Im guessing youll find is the
circumstance looks different from a distance than it does from
close up.
And when you can look at it from that angle, you just might
be able to see yourself a little more clearly. If you can stay with that
image, if you can listen to it, if you can wrestle with it, if you can
give yourself permission to be imperfectto be a mix of both good
and evilI think you might uncover wisdom and grace you never
before believed possible. You might find your own way out of the
woods, out of the struggle. You might be able to lead someone else
out as well.

55
5
Learning To Let Go Of Control
My best writing doesnt tend to happen when I obsess
over it, plan it, map it out and try to articulate it perfect-
ly on the first try. My best stories occur when I open my
hands and heart and simply let the words come.
It was about 2pm when I got the call you never want to get.
My husband and I had been fighting that dayall daythe
kind of fight you reserve for special occasions in a marriage. You
know, Christmas Eve, just before you leave for church. The first
day of a brand new job. A time in life when both of you are severely
sleep deprived. Or, you know, any random day during your first
year of marriage. We were acting like children, but we didnt care.
We had yelled, slammed things, broke at least one of the
things we slammed, and then I dropped him off at work without
a word.
I was livid. I wasnt thinking straight, and I was looking for-
ward to having some time without him at the house.
Thats when the phone rang.
The first missed call was from my sister, who I didnt much
feel like talking to at the moment. This was weird because I always
56
feel like talking to my sister. She is one of my closet friends. But
somehow (without thinking through it very much) I knew that if
I answered the phone, she would hear in my voice something was
wrong and make me talk about it. She would probably also figure
out this wasnt all my husbands fault, as I so desperately needed to
believe in that moment, so I ignored the call.
The next missed call was from my mom. At the time, my
thought was, geesh, did he call my family and tell them what hap-
pened? Did he post something on Facebook? Is there some kind of
familial intuition I didnt know about? I ignored that call, too. I
didnt want to talk to anyone. I wanted to stew.
It wasnt until about thirty seconds after the missed calls reg-
istered on my iPhone that I considered how strange it was that two
family members would be calling me in the middle of the day on
a Monday afternoon. It was 2:00 my time (EST) and just around
11am for them. Shouldnt they both be at work?
My mom is a teacher and, for the most part, impossible to
get ahold of during a work day unless there is an emergency. She
works in an elementary school and since, of course, there is a strict
no-cell-phone policy for the kids, the adults tend to keep their
phones put away as well. Not to mention, when youre in charge of
the well-being of a classroom full of tiny people, the last thing you
need is an extra distraction.
My sisters work isnt so strict about cell phones but she has a
work ethic unparalleled to just about anyone I know, so more of-
ten than not, she keeps calling and texting under wraps during the
work day. If I wanted to get ahold of her, I would have to call her
work phone.
And yet, here they were. Two missed calls on my cell phone.
To add to the confusion, there had just been a major transition
in my life. Two months prior I had gotten married to my now-hus-
57
band and we had moved, together, from my home in Portland, Or-
egon (where all of my family lived) to our new home in West Palm
Beach, Florida. As transitions tend to go, this one had been a little
bit rocky. I had gone from being an organic-eating, dressed-down,
Birkenstock-wearing, granola-ish Oregonian to a part of the coun-
try where boob jobs, high heels, luxury vehicles and string bikinis
were the thing. I had gone from being single to married. I was try-
ing to be fully invested in my new life without completely aban-
doning my old one.
It was a ton of pressure, and no matter what I did, I felt like a
total failure. Things felt out-of-sync. I knew they would be back in
sync soon (right?) but what if something happened before then?
I suddenly felt very afraid of everything and my life felt out-of-
this-world fragile.
A few weeks earlier, as I was driving to dinner with my hus-
band, I told him, If something happened right nowif one my
parents got sick or had a heart attack or died... I would never for-
give myself.
Now, here I was, staring at these two missed calls on my cell
phone.
I called my mom back first. She didnt answer. I called my sis-
ter back second. By now my heart was racingalmost like it could
anticipate what was about to happen. I heard my sisters voice on
the other end of the line.
Dont freak out, she said. But dads in the hospital.
After that, I only heard about ever fifth word ... heart attack...
doctor... come soon...
That was when the wailing started.
Im not sure if youve ever cried like thisor if youve ever
seen anyone cry like thisbut it reminds me of the last scene from
Baz Lurmans Romeo and Juliet, when Juliet (Claire Danes) wakes
58
up and discovers what Romeo has done. When she discovers the
mistake hes made and the impact it now has on her, she lets out
a sob that could wake a grown man from a drunken slumber. Its
from her gut. Its loud. The camera pans out to show the entire
tomb (which, in this movie is covered with lit candles) and her sob
echoes throughoutso you can hear it a dozen times over.
That sob, in my opinion, is one of the most gut-wrenching
sounds in the entire world.
Thats how I sobbed that day. I grabbed my purse, left my
house without shoes, went back to get shoes because I remembered,
strangely, that in Oregon, you can be arrested for driving with no
shoes... or was it get a ticket? I couldnt remember, but I went back
to get my shoes and drove straight to where my husband was work-
ing. I finished the conversation with my sisterwhich was barely
a conversation because we were both crying so loudlyand then
called my husband.
My... my dad... heart... attack... doctor... died three times...
My attempts at explaining what had happened and what I was
doing were interrupted several times with, wait, what happened?
Who? and, Babe, you have to calm down. I cant understand you.
Eventually I made it to his office and he met me outside. I col-
lapsed into his arms.
All the things I had been angry about earlier that day, all the
things that had made me think I never wanted to see him or talk
to him again, all the things I had been trying to fix and control be-
cause they made me absolutely crazy... none of that was important
any more. In fact, it was hardly relevant. I couldnt even remember
why I had been so mad.
All my illusions of control had been exposed. I didnt control
anything. I didnt control my husband. I couldnt control him...
why should I try? I didnt control my own emotionsat least not
59
nearly as well as I thought I did. I couldnt control life and death.
I wanted to get on a plane. I wanted to drive to the airport right
that minute and get on a freaking plane (yes, a freaking plane,
which is different than just a normal planeI had to explain this
to my husband as well) and fly to Portland. Maybe if I could just be
there, it would help. Maybe it would mean I could hold the family
together. Maybe it would mean I could hold myself together. May-
be it would mean I wouldnt lose my dad.
But even as I went over the options in my mind, it occurred
to me that even if I got on a plane right now, my dad could be gone
before I got there. There was really nothing I could do. This was out
of my hands.
Theres nothing fun about realizing or admitting that life is
out of our hands, but one of beautiful things about letting things
get out of control, or just admitting we were never in our control
in the first place, is we see ourselves for who we really arejust a
small part, a supporting role really, in a much larger story. We are
not the center of the Universe. The world does not revolve around
us. We dont have control.
All we can do is what Ive spent the past five chapters describ-
ing. We can show up. We can listen. We can wrestle. We can be a
mix of good and bad. And we can let go and allow the story to un-
fold as it will.
What does this have to do with writing? Everything. In the
moment I was urged to let go of control, something really pro-
found happened. I let my guard down. I was truly myself. The sob-
bing, the calling my husband even though I was angrythat was
me, unpolished and unprotected. Even forgetting my shoes seems
significant, a powerful image of how the simplest social rules are
forgotten when the chaos gets to be too much. Suddenly, without
warning, we become the raw, vulnerable, real versions of ourselves.
60
We may not have felt permission to be this wayor to show
ourselves this waybefore, but we feel permission now. We feel
permission to let ourselves be truly seen, by ourselves and by
someone else.
Thats exactly what happened to me that day, the day I real-
ized I didnt have control. All the things I had been angry about
before faded into the distance. I couldnt even remember what any
of them they were. All the posturing and protecting I was doing, all
the defenses I had thrown up to distance myself, all the anger... all
of that was gone.
All I had now was me, no shoes and sobbing.
When we can let go of control, or when life forces us to real-
ize how little control we actually have, we tend to see ourselves for
who we really are. And if you ask me, this is when the good writing
comes. Good writing comes when were willing to let go of who we
think we are, who we wish we were, the way we hoped things would
be and talk about they way they really are.
Good writing happens when were willing to let go of control.
This is not just messy. Its terrifying. Sometimes it happens
to us, like in this circumstance, with my dad, and other times we
choose it for ourselves in a sort of rare moment of clarity. But no
matter how the chaos comes, letting go is about living fully present
in spite of everything, listening, wrestling, and allowing things to
be messy in the most unsettling way.
This is the only way Ive ever been able to write a story, or live
a story, that matters beyond itself. This is the only way Ive ever
been able to uncover my voice.
As it turns out, my dad survived. It was a miracle, really. And
eventually, I made it to Oregon to see him again. But every time I
think about the day we almost lost him I am reminded how one
day I will lose him. I dont have control. And maybe thats okay.
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Because the girl I discovered the day I almost lost my dad is the girl
I want to bethe one who is willing to let go of control of her tiny,
unimpressive and self-centered little life, to sacrifice her careful-
ly planned out words, to show up, to listen and to just be herself
mess and all.
Be Willing To Get Messy
When I want to pretend like I have control over my life, I
clean my house.
We live in a modest two-bedroom loft in Nashville and we
host people all the time. We love having overnight guests and
adore hosting dinner parties and often have people over for late-
night game nights or movie viewings. We make popcorn. We
drink wine and lemonade and beer. And all of that makes a mess.
It makes a mess of dishes and schedules and routines and furni-
ture. It disturbs the quiet of the house and leaves footprints on the
carpet and a pile of shoes by the door.
I wish it were different, and when I want to pretend like it is
different, like no matter what happens I have my crap all together,
I clean. I put the shoes back exactly where they belong. I line them
up all perfectly and separate them by color. I vacuum. I run the
vacuum back and forth in a perfect patterns so it leaves lines in the
carpet. Then I try to avoid walking on the carpet so they pattern
can stay as long as possible.
I shot a short video course for writers in our little loft apart-
ment; and I made our apartment look perfect for the cameras. I
cleaned. I arranged all the trinkets on the coffee table. I bought
fresh flowers. I wiped all the fingerprints off the refrigerator and
cabinets with Windex. I hid the little scrub brush in the kitchen
underneath the sink.
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Behind the camera, what you would have seen was a total
disasterempty donut boxes, old Chipotle containers, camera
equipment, sweatshirts, various loose papers, all the bags and
purses of everyone involved in the production. But in the camera
frame what you saw made you think my house looks perfect.
Heres what Ive learned about making anything look perfect:
if it looks perfect, it isnt real. As long as I try to control my life and
clean it up and make it perfectly presentable, I wont be free to
actually live inside of it. Ill have to stay off the carpet and and nev-
er open the fridge and never put on my shoes to leave the house.
As long as I try to control my writing and clean it up I wont
be free to speak from my heart, to speak my truth.
I dont want to control my life or my writing. I want to live it.
I want to write it.
But learning to quit controlling your life or your writing
doesnt just happen overnight. There have to be catalysts for this
kind of changemoments where you almost lose someone you
love, or a split second when you forget what is smart and do what
your heart tells you to do or nights when you choose to go to bed
with the dishes undone and the shoes in a heap and confront the
anxiety that comes.
You dont just wake up one day and decide to stop trying to
keep things under your control. You have to notice youre doing it,
admit your fear, and let go again and again and again.
When it comes to writing, the answer is no different.
Recently I submitted a piece to an editor friend of mine and
asked him if he could help me make it better. Something about it
wasnt working, but I couldnt put my finger on what it was. He
agreed, and after he read it, he said, youre being too careful. Its
so clean. When I heard the words, all I could think about was the
row of shoes lined up by my door, the pattern in my carpet. A clean
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home is not necessarily a home full of life. Clean writing is not
necessarily good writing.
Our writing is stunted by our need to control. When we try to
keep our writing clean, to keep everything grammatically correct
and to write in perfect sentences and to never have a run-on, our
voices will get stuck inside of us. Im not saying every sentence has
to be imperfect, or that you publish something really messy, but I
am saying we will miss the best writer inside of us if we never let
the mess come.
Something To Try: Get Out Of Your Head
One of the things I think we need to do as writers is learn to
get out of our heads and into our bodies. Our heads will try to con-
trol things. Theyll take the information available and try to turn
it into something coherent and believable. Our heads are always
trying to sort, organize and make sense out of things. Our bodies
dont do that. Our bodies dont try to tell us what should be. They
just tell us what is. They tell us the truth.
Ive been reading a book lately by Miriam Greenspan called
Healing Through the Dark Emotions and this book is quickly be-
coming one of my favorites of all time. Greenspan explains how
so many of us resist what we consider dark emotions, like fear,
grief and despair because we dont like the way they make us feel
and were afraid of where they might take us. But we cant avoid
the impact of these emotions. Even if we choose not to think about
them, our bodies will feel the weight of them. We dont experience
the dark emotions cognitively as much as we do physically.
As an added bonus, Greenspan explains that emotions such
as grief, fear and despair dont have to be as dark as we assume
them to be. They can actually offer us a great deal of wisdom if
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were willing to listen carefully to what theyre telling usif were
willing to let our bodies speak for themselves.
One of the exercises she gives toward the end of her book has
been tremendously helpful in teaching me to let go of the control
that comes with rationalizing my writing, searching my brain
for smart-sounding words and trying to organize and perfect
during the brainstorming stage. As long as Im in my brain, I cant
stop doing this. This is the the purpose of my brain. It is its job. But
this assignment by Greenspan teaches us to leave our brains and
listen to our bodies, who wont rationalize and organize nearly as
much as they will just speak the truth.
Take a minute and just sit quietly wherever youre sittingin
a chair, on a couch, laying in bed, at a desk. For a minute, just try
to clear your mind. Then, after a minute, simply notice your body.
What sensations do you have? Is there a pain in your right wrist?
Do you have a constant throb in your knee? Is your back sore? Do
you have a headache? How do your legs or arms feel touching the
fabric? Where is there pressure from gravity? Are your shudders
tense? Dont try to analyze or rationalize. Just notice. Dont judge.
Just be.
Now, pick a part of your body that seems particularly needy
right now. If you have a chronic injury in one part of your body,
that might be a good part to pick. If youre stomach is growling be-
cause you need food (or because, like me, your stomach is where
you hold all of your stress) that would be a good part to pick, too.
Pick a part of your body that seems to be saying somethingand
write for fifteen minutes from the perspective of that body part.
Dont overthink this. In fact, try not to think too much about
it at all. Just write what the body part is saying about how it is feel-
ing. Be willing to let go of control. Show up, just as you are. Listen.
Learn to wrestle. Be okay with imperfect. And let go. If you can
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learn to do these five things, I think you might just be ready to give
up what you should say in exchange for what you need to say. You
may just be ready to speak up.

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6
Learning To Speak Up
I used to think I didnt deserve to speak up until I had
something smart or insightful to say. Now I know that,
if I can speak up in humility, even when my thoughts
are incomplete, my words help shape who we are together
becoming.
There has been a pattern in my life of keeping silent. I thought
silence was saving all of us, but of course it wasnt. Silence didnt
save anything.
My husband has been trying to lose weight lately. Its not a re-
ally aggressive approach. Hes not dieting, per se. Its more lifestyle
changes. Hes trying to eat smaller quantities and avoid ordering
pizza late at night and, you know, stop before he eats the entire
box of cookies. Pretty typical first world, stressed-out, slowing
metabolism-because-Im-30-now type problems.
The cool thing is hes seeing results. He bought a scale and put
it in our bathroom and he weighs himself several times a week. His
clothes are fitting better. He has more energy. Its an all-around
good thing.
The problem is, for me, scales and diets and counting calo-
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ries are not a good thing. Not even close. Im 510 and 128 pounds
(I know because I just weighed myself) and I dont need to lose
weight. But for some strange reason, when people around me are
dieting, I cant help but join in. Im not sure if its the competitive
nature in me, or if its all the magazines and media that have fried
my brain into thinking the thinner, the better! or if its some
other kind of quirk or sickness altogether, but every time I hear
him celebrate that hes lost a pound or four pounds or that he only
ate a certain number of calories for dinner... I cant help but feel
badly about the number of calories I ate for dinner, or rush to the
scale to weigh myself to compare.
For the first several weeks he was doing this, I didnt tell him. I
worried that, if I told him, I would squelch his energy and enthusi-
asm toward eating better and working out and I really didnt want
to do that. I was happy about the changes he was making. I didnt
want him to stop. So why would I tell him something that was go-
ing to make him feel badly about it?
Heres why. Because when we choose not to speak up about
things, our words become toxic inside of us.
According to Miriam Greenspan, when we suppress, dispel,
avoid, deny analyze or distract ourselves from what we think
or feelrather than being mindful of itthe energy of those
thoughts and feelings either gets trapped inside of us as toxic en-
ergy, or it finds a means to escape some other way. She goes on to
say:
Distract yourself from deep sorrow and it will come back to
haunt you. While distraction can stave off feeling overwhelmed
by intense emotional energy, it can also suppress a necessary flow
of emotion... distracting ourselves from our emotional pain...
doesnt help us get to the root of what ails us.
Speaking up, on the other hand, will get us to the root of what
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ails us. Speaking up about what we want, feel or need is terrifying
because it exposes our weakness and gives others the opportunity
to really hurt us. But it is the only way out Ive found out of the
dark woods of silence.
Say What You Need To Say
I guess the first thing that drew me to writing and blogging
was the thought that people would actually listen to me. I always
felt invisible in my real lifelike I had a hundred things to say but
that nobody really wanted me to say them. Or, more accurately,
that I just didnt have the courage to speak up. So I was shocked
when I discovered there was a way I could lock myself in my bed-
room, where I felt safe, say the things I wanted to say, and then
just allow people to come read as they so desired. I was even more
shocked to discover people would actually come. And comment.
And share with their friends.
So the start of my career as a writer was really 100% selfish, if
Im being honest. It was all about me. I didnt care about a reader,
wasnt even thinking about an audience. All I was concerned about
was saying the things I wanted and needed to say.
This isnt all a bad thing. In fact, I think this is all part of the
process. I dont know if there is a way to get to selflessness without
first being selfish. Think of babies. They come out screaming and
crying for what they need, the center of their own little universe.
Eventually, they grow into people who hopefully learn to empa-
thize with others, to reach out, to see the impact theyre having on
the world as a whole. But thats not the way they start. Thats where
theyre headed. And the screaming-crying, all-about-me stage is
all part of the process.
But at the same time, the more attuned we can be to our own
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process, the more intentional we can be about it, the more likely
we are to reach a level of maturity as people and as writers. This
process, in my experience, goes in order. It had a cyclical nature to
it. It repeats itself over and over and over again.
We learn to be present with ourselves, to listen to what our
bodies are saying (not necessarily our minds), we are willing to
wrestle with it, to see it as imperfect, to let go of control, and then
we are ready to put it out into the world. So often we get this back-
wards. We speak up before weve done the work that comes before-
handnot the work of perfecting, but the work of surrendering.
Showing up. Listening. Fighting through it all.
Those who have walked this journey know: this is where our
message comes from. This is how we know what we need to say.
If we want to experience the intrinsic benefits of writing Im
talking about, if we want our words to really make a difference in
our own lives or the lives of those around us, we cant ignore the
steps that come before speaking upbeing present, listening to
ourselves, wrestling through a problem, learning to see it as nu-
anced, and letting go of control. This process readies us for what
comes when we speak our minds.
It readies us to receive criticism with wisdom and grace. It
readies us to admit our own part in all of thisour anger, our grief,
our fear. It readies us to get into the ring, to be a part of our own
messy story.
It doesnt happen overnight. Its a process. But the process is
worth it. Ive seen this to be true over and over again.
Owning Our Stories
After a week or so of stopping myself and feeling scared by
what my husband might say, I finally decided to speak up. I had
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spent a lot of time, privately, working through my fear, so when I
finally talked to him it wouldnt seem like I was asking him to hold
it. I was present with myself, and listened, and felt humbled by my
own part in thisthe lack of control I felt over this area of my life.
But I also let go of control and gave myself permission to be imper-
fect.
After all of that, I finally felt ready to speak up.
I prefaced the conversation by saying I wasnt asking him to
change what he was doing, but that I wanted him to know what was
going on with me. I told him I still wasnt sure where these feelings
were coming from, but that every time he shared his weight loss
victories with me, I felt an ache inside. I told him how I had been
weighing myself at night and in the morning, right along with
him, and counting calories like he had.
I admitted how crazy this wasI really dont have weight to
losebut that it was easy to make it an obsession.
And the moment I finished telling him the story, I felt some-
thing shift. I dont want to oversimplify and say, all I had to do
was say it out loud and everything changed! But the truth is when
I spoke up about what I was feeling, there was a tangible shift in my
personal energy. I gained a little bit more confidence in that mo-
ment, a little accountability, a little dignity from telling my story.
I became a little bit more myself.
The best part of all of it is my husband didnt react like I feared
he would. Part of this is how I presented the information to him:
my tone wasnt blaming or angry. I reminded him several times
that I wasnt asking him to change. I shared vulnerably about my
hurt and my fear. And his response was really positive. It wasnt
defensiveness. It wasnt a desperate need to fix the problemby
giving up the weight loss process himself. Instead, it was a tender
understanding of who I was and what I felt.
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It wasnt because he saw me that I became myself in that mo-
ment. It was because I became myself that he could see me. And
being seen felt really good.
We think we can protect people if we dont speak up. Or at
least this is what so often keeps me silent. I think I can protect
myself from the pain of ridicule when I have an idea that doesnt
work, or that I can protect others from the pain of discovering the
impact of their words or actions. I buy into the lie that ignorance
is bliss and would rather live in that ignorance than invite any of
us out into the light.
But ignorance is never as blissful as it seems, and keeping
quiet might protect us from blame or ridicule, but it also keeps us
trapped in our own miserable prison of silence.
And yet speaking up is not always glamorous. When we de-
cide to speak up, we are choosing to join the ring, to get into the
mess of things. When we choose to speak up, were choosing to
throw our weight around a little, to stick our elbows out and make
room for ourselves. This means we have skin in the game. We cant
speak up without having any skin in the game.
Speaking up means we might be wrong.
It means we might be right, but we might have said it in the
wrong way.
It means admitting we only know part of the story.
When we speak up, we are inviting criticism. We cant speak
up without expecting people are going to respondand they get to
choose how they do that.
We have to ask ourselves: Are we ready? Are we strong enough?
What if my husband had responded to me with anger or criticism
or frustration or fear of his own? That would be his choice. Could I
have held onto myself anyway? Could I have held my story and let
him hold his? When we throw our voices into the silence, we have
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to know our voices wont be the only ones there. The world is filled
with voices. Is there room enough for all of us?
Can we hold onto our own story, in spite of everyone else?
I think we can. I believe we can. But not without being ready.
Not until weve learned to show up, to listen to ourselves, to wres-
tle through problems, to be willing to be imperfect. Not until we
learn to let go of control.
Something profound is happening to me as Im learning to
own my own story without asking others to own it for me. Im
discovering Im stronger and more unique than I ever imagined.
Im discovering there is room for me. Im beginning to see how my
thoughts and ideas and opinions arent nearly as important to the
world as my voice isthe words and images and stories that make
up who I am.
Something To Try: Tell The Story Of Your Opin-
ion
I was editing a short eBook by one of my clients and there was
one particular part I found to be really off-putting. I couldnt quite
put my finger on it, but as I read the words I just felt disconnected
from the author, like there was a thickness between him and me.
It could have been the subject matter, I told myself, since I hap-
pened to disagree with what he was saying, but I was pretty sure
that wasnt it. I often read articles I disagree with but can still ad-
mit they are well-written. It was something else.
So I asked the author if he could meet with me over the phone
or Skype and I told him what I was sensing. I tried to be sensitive
to the fact that I disagreed with what he was saying and reiterated
several times that I wasnt trying to get him to change his mind. I
just wanted him to show up for the reader.
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Then I had an idea.
I asked him to tell me the story of this opinion. He looked at
my blankly. This seems like something really personal to you,
I said. You feel really passionately about it, I can tell. Where did
that start? How does this issue impact you personally?
When I asked that, he squirmed a little and looked away from
the camera.
You dont have to tell me what just happened right there, I
said. But whatever it was, write that. I didnt want to make him
uncomfortable by forcing him to process with me right then and
there, but I asked him if he felt like he could stay present with that
feeling, as uncomfortable as it was. I asked him if he could listen to
what the feeling was telling him, if he could wrestle with it a little,
if he could give himself permission to be a mix of both good and
bad, and if he could let go of control for long enough to get it on
paper.
Ill try, he said.
Thats all you can do, I told him.
When he sent the revisions to me, I couldnt believe what I
was reading. It was like a different writer had written the same sec-
tion. Suddenly, the parts which had seemed so off-putting to me
before were the exact parts that invited me into his story. The part
that had made me feel he was putting himself above meI have it
figured out and someday you can have it figured out toowas the
part that now made me feel like we were connected in some inex-
plicable way. It was the part that made me feel a little less lonely, a
little more confident.
It was the part that made me want to keep showing up for my-
self, listening, learning to wrestle, admitting my own shortcom-
ings and letting go of control so I could speak my own story as well.
His voice came through so clearly in that section now. It was
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really beautiful because he is a beautiful person and it made me
feel beautiful right along with him.
Its so tempting as writers to posture ourselves in a way that
makes it seem like we have all the answers. We write top ten lists.
We give advice. We package things in a way that promises to solve
a whole bunch of problems. We speak up before we really know
what we want to say. And I can see why the temptation is so great.
You can sell a million copies of your book without ever doing any
of the hard work of writing. You can hire a writer. You can buy
your way onto the New York Times Bestseller list.
But if we do all of this at the expense of the processwith-
out showing up, without listening, without learning to wrestle,
etc, etcI think we miss the most valuable aspect of writing, the
part of us that changes when we commit ourselves to the process.
Worse than that, I think the world misses out on us.
Authentic voices are not the loudest voices in the room, nec-
essarily. They arent always the ones to garner the most attention.
But authentic voices, in my opinion, are grown over time, by peo-
ple who are willing to do the hard work of showing up to the page,
listening to themselves, wrestling with what they hear, seeing
themselves as nuanced and letting go of control for long enough
to speak whats in their heart.
If youre not sure this is you, dont panic. Authentic voices are
not born. Theyre developed. They are not predestined. We grow
into them, the same way we grow into ourselves. If this is some-
thing you want to practice, try doing what I recommended the au-
thor do that day: First, consider a topic really close to your heart.
Maybe its adoption, maybe its women in leadership, maybe its
marriage or relationships, maybe its sexuality. I dont know.
Whatever it is, consider what you might say if you were given
a platform to say whatever you wanted. Give yourself permission
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to write for a few minutesto show up to the page, to listen to what
your body is telling you, to wrestle, to be both right and wrong, to
let go of control and to speak up. After youve written for a little
while, go back and read what you wrote. What do you think? What
emotions do you find expressed there? Is there anger? Fear? Grief?
Now, ask yourself this question: what is the story of these emo-
tions?
Where did the fear come from?
What about the anger? What is the anger about?
Now, for another 30 minutes or so, write the story of those
emotions. You can allow your body to speak for you if thats help-
ful (see the exercise from chapter 5), or you can just tell the story of
their origin. What is their starting point?
If youre anything like me, youll feel tremendous resistance
at this point. This is the same resistance the author from the story
above felt when I asked him to think about the story of his emo-
tions on our Skype call. But Ill ask you to try the same thing I
asked him to try that day. Stay present with the feeling. Dont push
it away. Listen to what it is telling you. Wrestle with it for awhile,
without trying to come to a right answer. Let go of what you
think you should write and just write whats in your heart.
If you can do that, I think youll find yourself becoming a
writer. I think you might just begin to uncover your authentic self.
I think you might learn how to connect, in a powerful way, with
your reader. We might even become something beautiful, togeth-
er.


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7
Learning To Connect With An
Audience
Writing is not about you and its not about your audi-
ence. Writing is about the connection that happens when
we find a way to reach out for another without losing
ourselves.
My dad is a psychologist. People always want to know what it
was like to grow up with a psychologist for a daddid he psycho-
analyze you? Did you ever have him interpret your dreams?
and I always say it was pretty much like growing up with any other
kind of dad. He just happens to be a really great listener, and give
really good advice.
One of the pieces of advice he has reiterated to me my whole
life is that, when it comes to just about any problem we face in life,
there are Three Big Ideas which help to point us in the right direc-
tion. These Three Big Ideas, according to my dad, are prerequisites
to healthy relationships, healthy living and a healthy sense of self.
They are also prerequisites, I would argue, to great writing. The
Three Big Ideas go like this:
1. Differentiationthe ability to know oneself and be one-
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self, different from those around me
2. Attachmentthe ability to be attached to those around
me, to flex to fit with them, even though Im different
3. Transcendencethe state of being that occurs on each
rare occasion when the first two ideas are in perfect balance.
Let me see if I can give an example of this.
I am a morning person and my husband is not. If it were up
to me, we would go to bed at 9:00 every night, wake up at 5:00 ev-
ery morning and enjoy watching the day come alive together. If it
were up to my husband, we would burn the midnight oil, tap into
the late-night creative energy, work until midnight or 1:00 in the
morning and wake up late morning sometime, whenever our bod-
ies felt like we were done sleeping.
Weve bounced around between these schedules, trying to
figure out something that works for the two of us. Sometimes he
comes to bed early with me or I stay up late with him (attachment),
sometimes I go to bed early and he comes to bed whenever he is
ready (differentiation). But as weve fluctuated back and forth
between differentiation and attachment, weve also missed each
other. We just havent been able to find a rhythm and balance that
works well for both of us (transcendence).
The other night, at around 2:00am, he came into our room
where I was already sleeping. He leaned down on my side of the bed
and whispered, Hey, theres a lightning storm happening outside
right now. Do you want to come watch it with me? Silently and
sleepily, I rose from bed and came into the living room where ev-
ery few seconds, the room would explode with light. I sat at the ta-
ble for a few minutes and then went to the freezer where I knew
there was a pint of our favorite ice cream. I grabbed it, along with
two spoons and returned to my spot at the table.
There were very few words spoken that night. We just sat at
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the kitchen table, at a time that felt too early for me and probably
too late for him, but we spooned the ice cream in a sort of silent
agreement. He asked. I responded. We both moved to the middle
and for the smallest moment, we found transcendence.
Ive held onto that memory all weekas our lives take us sep-
arate directions and we cant seem to agree on an appropriate bed-
time and we feel disconnected. That small moment of transcen-
dencesomething as simple as a lightning stormhas kept me
waiting, kept me hoping, kept me holding onto myself and reach-
ing out for him. It isnt easy, but its worth it because that moment
of transcendence is so powerful, because I hope we can make an-
other moment like that happen again.
Transcendence cant happen all the time. But it is what we
work for, its what we strive forby holding onto ourselves while
reaching out for the other.
You might be wondering: what on earth does this have to do
with writing? Great question.
When it comes to writing and finding ourselves, I think we
have to strive for the kind of balance Im talking about here. We
have to hold onto ourselves. In other words, there have to be spaces
and places that are, creatively speaking, just for us. We have to get
private and allow our minds to wander. We have to give ourselves
permission to feel what we feel and to follow the trail of those feel-
ings to hear what they have to say.
Then, one day, after all of that has happened, and as soon as
we feel ready, we zoom out from ourselves and take a look at the
whole picture. We ask ourselves: where is a reader going to connect
with this? How can I support the reader? How can I bring them
along with me on my journey? This is the attachment. How can I
reach out to my reader and make sure they feel connected and at-
tached?
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The balance is tricky. Its like a teeter-totter. If the weight is
heavier on one side than it is on the other, the balance is going to
be thrown off. If we are more differentiated than attachedmore
concerned about ourselves than we are about othersour writing
will read as self-centered and detached. If we were more attached
than differentiatedif were thinking about the reader without
first doing the work ourselves, the writing will sound hollow and
impersonal. And any time one person shifts their weightany-
time theres a change in circumstance or environmentthe weight
changes and we have to seek that balance all over again.
This is a lifelong taskworking to achieve just a moment of
balance, of transcendence. This is the work of our life, whether in
our relationships or our writing. This is what it takes to know our-
selves. We show up, just as we are. We listen. We wrestle. We let go
of control. We speak up. But even after weve done all that, what
does it matter without transcendence? What does it matter if we
dont connect with someone else?
Finding The Balance
When it comes to writing, people always say, the best au-
thors dont write for themselves. They write for an audience, but
I dont know, Im still wrestling with this advice.
I mean, I understand the gist of it. Any book that has moved
a group of people has had a strong appeal to an audience. This is
why Harry Potter became a world-wide sensation, its why self-
help books (even really bad ones) sell faster than Tickle-Me-Elmo
on Black Friday; and its why memoirs (even really good ones) are
called a tough sell in publishing.
Its because at the end of the day, no one really cares about
your story.
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It sounds harsh to say it that way but its true. Every market-
ing person worth his or her weight will tell you: people, for the
most part, dont buy books because they want to read your story.
They buy books because they want to be entertained, get skinny,
improve their marriage, etc, etc. You get the drill.
And yet, part of my problem with this advice is that the best
authors I know arent necessarily writing for a huge audience.
Take The Shack, for example, by William Paul Young. He didnt
write this book for a wide audience. In fact, he wrote the book for
his children. He had fairly narrow intentions: Im going to teach
my kids about the Holy Spirit. And yet the book had wide appeal.
The same is true for Blue Like Jazz, by Donald Miller. The
book is an incredibly personal faith journeythe struggle of it,
the questions, the wrestlingand yet millions of people saw them-
selves in that story. It gave a whole generation of people permis-
sion to change the way they think and talk about their faith.
I could go on. Wild by Cheryl Strayed. Eat. Pray. Love. by
Elizabeth Gilbert. A Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion.
Anything written by Anne Lamott. These are some of my favorite
authors and stories. Theyve sold, collectively and even individual-
ly, millions of copies. And yet I cant imagine any of these authors
sitting down to the page and asking themselves, What does my
audience really need to hear? Whats their felt need? My guess is
most writersnot all of them, necessarily, but many of themsit
down to the page focused mostly on themselves.
Eventually, an author does have to think about their audi-
ence, partly because their publisher makes them and partly be-
cause they really do care about their book moving beyond them-
selves. But thinking about your audience too soon, if you ask me,
can derail you. If youre too attached to what your audience needs,
what they think, what they might sayyoull lose yourself.
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The Stage Fright Effect

A friend of mine has a daughter who is about five. Five years
old is such a beautiful age, if you ask me. Five-year-olds are in this
perfect balancestill entrenched in the oblivion of childhood and
yet teetering on the brink of adulthood. Not adulthood in the
sense that theyre about to be asked to prom, but in the sense that
theyre just about to realize what it means to be seenthat they are
not alone in the world, that their actions have an impact on others.
Anyway, my friends daughter is in this phase and I love
watching her. Sometimes shell be sitting at her little Fisher Price
table, brushing the hair of her dolls or coloring a picture. Shell be
talking to herself, or sometimes singing, and then suddenly shell
stop. Shell look over her shoulder, realize her mom and I are ad-
miring her, and then shell be silent.
This is a five-year-olds first realization she is supposed to
hide herself.
One night I was over at their house for dinner and, after
we finished eating, this precious little five-year-old made her
way to the living room and turned on the TV. Im not sure what
she was watching, but whatever it was, there was music playing
in the background. Before I knew it, she started dancing. I dont
mean be-bopping her head to the music, like you or I would tend
to do (you know, keeping it cool). I mean full-out, hip-swinging,
body-moving, arm-flailing, dancing.
I saw this out of the corner of my eye, and of course, grabbed
my cell phone, intent on taking a video. I tried to be sneaky about
it, so she wouldnt see. But the minute she saw movement out of
the corner of her eye, she stopped. She saw the camera and ran
back to the couch, where she hid under her blanket and giggled.
She realized she was being watched and she no longer felt the
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freedom to dance.
I realize not every child would react like this. Ive also met
children (future MTV stars, Im sure) who looove being in front of
a camera. A camera comes out and they come alivehamming it
up and telling jokes and doing weird stuff to get attention. I sup-
pose you could argue these children are hiding in their own way.
Theyre hiding behind humor and showboating and their ability
to make people laugh. We all have our tactics.
My point is this: each of us, in our way, changes when we re-
alize were being watched. Maybe when you realize youre being
watched, you respond like my friends little girl doesyou run
hide under your blanket on the couch. Maybe, instead, youre like
the kid who sticks his tongue out in front of the camera and tries
to make fart noises with his armpit. Whatever kid you are, if you
ask me, you will find yourselfyour most authentic voicein pri-
vate.
You are your most authentic you when no one is around to
listen, no one is around to take pictures. This is where you really
meet yourself.
This, I suppose, is why becoming a better writer, and discov-
ering my unique voice, has been such a process. First, I have to get
private. I have to choose not to care about what anyone else would
say. I have to follow my bliss. I have to brain dump, write my feel-
ings, get the words on paper. Then, I have to forget about myself
for a second and reach out to connect to my audience. If I do this
enough timesover and over againI find transcendence. It isnt
about me, or about them. It is about us both.
Eventually, I did get my friends little girl to dance for the
camera. I explained to her how cute I thought her dancing was, and
at one point, I even agreed to dance with her. She learned a little bit
more about herself in that moment and so did I. We both let loose.
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We made a beautiful connection. But that connection couldnt
have happened if she hadnt shown herself to meher true self, if
we hadnt both let go of control and allowed ourselves to be im-
perfect, if we both hadnt reached out for each other while holding
onto ourselves.
The truth is, you have to think about your audience at some
point. If you dont, your writing will fall flat. It will feel dull and
meaningless, or dramatic and detached. It probably wont ever
make it past your journal. But if you ask me, great writing happens
when you think about yourself, first and others, second. If you try
to think about your audience first, youll be like my friends little
girl, who wants to dance and flail her arms around to the music,
but cant quite get over the camera.
Great writing is not about your audience. Its not about you.
Its about reaching out for one while holding onto the other. Even-
tually, if we do this long enough, we will find the magic of tran-
scendence.
Something To Try: Getting Private
Like Ive mentioned, I work with authors on a daily basis and
one of the most difficult parts of the coaching process is helping
them understand how to connect authentically with their audi-
ence. Inevitably, no matter how much I talk about balance, and the
fact that this is a lifelong process, it always ends up sounding like
Im contradicting myself.
So, youre saying its not about me, but it is about me? they
wonder. Or, You just said its not about my audience, but now
youre asking me to think about my audience. Im confused.
I understand the confusion. We start the whole coaching pro-
cess by talking about where theyve come from and what theyve
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experienced. I explain how this is where messages are born. I tell
them to write like no one is watching, to be careful of their inner
critic, and to focus on what they know and what they want. Then,
the very next week, we touch on audience.
When we talk about audience, I stress how important it is to
know our audiencethat knowing our audience helps us to know
ourselves. I explain how balancing what we know about ourselves
with what we know about our audience brings our message to life
in a really exciting way. I tell them not to get too attached to any-
thing we come up with in those conversations, to give permission
for this to evolve over time. I try to speak encouragement and con-
fidence into them, the way I did that night with my friends little
girl.
Its really cute! becomes, Who you are matters. We want to
see you. Youre so fun and smart and wonderful when youre act-
ing like yourself.
But no matter how careful I am about these conversations, its
always messy. This is normal. This is part of the process. These con-
versations cause insecurities to flare and writers begin to wonder,
do I even have an audienceand even if I do, why should I care?
Something I encourage them to try when I can tell they are
losing their equilibrium, is to just get private with their writing
again. I tell them to get rid of the proverbial cameras, to turn off
the noise, to ignore the voices and to just lean in. I tell them to ex-
plore the intention I was given in chapter 2yourself first, others
second. Write for yourself now and others later, I tell them.
We can have conversations about audience until were blue in
the face, but at some point, we have to get private with our writing
again.
For me, this is mostly a brain trick. I like to get up and write
early in the morning because that is a time of day when everyone
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else is sleeping. I know some writers who like to stay up late at night
for the same reason. Sometimes, this means escaping to a placea
part of town, or another citywhere I can feel anonymous. Some-
times it means writing in a journal, instead of on my computer.
Sometimes it means putting in headphones and listening to music
that can transport me to another place.
Whatever it is, I have to find a way to get private with my writ-
ing (differentiation) so I can eventually take it to public (attach-
ment) and hopefully connect in an authentic way to my reader
(transcendence).
And above all, I remind writers to be gentle with themselves
in the process. After all, theyre showing upjust them. Theyre
here. Theyre listening. Theyre wrestling. Theyre not trying to be
perfect. Theyre just letting go of control and speaking their heart
and trying to connect with their audience. None of this is easy.
None of it is clearly defined. None of it is perfectly safe or guaran-
teed to have a positive outcome.
But somewhere in the midst of the struggle and the mess,
theyre uncovering themselves and why they matter. Slowly but
surely, moments of transcendence are coming. What could possi-
bly be better than that?

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8
Learning To Rest & Play
Most of us think work comes first, rest come second. Rest
is the reward for a job well done. But what if rest and
play are the starting place, rather than the ending place?
What if play is the place where we become.
When I finished writing Packing Light, I thought the hard
part was over. Id labored over the manuscript for more than a
yeardrafting, writing, editing, revising, more drafting. So when
it finally went to print, I breathed a big sigh of relief. I could finally
have my life back. The hard part was done. Now I could just coast
and watch the sales ranking go up on Amazon; lean back and wait
for all of the praise and affirmation to rush in.
Heres the funny thing I learned in the next few weeks:
launching a book doesnt work like this. In fact, if I wanted to sell
any copies of my book, I was going to have to keep writing articles,
keep creating ad copy, keep publishing blog posts, keeping taking
speaking engagements.
This wasnt the easy part of the process. It was the hard part.
This was crunch time. This was a time that could determine the
rest of my career as a writer. The only advantage I had over some-
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one who was already established as an author, I figured, was that I
was willing to work harder and faster and longer hours than they
would.
In the month after my book released, I wrote nearly 150,000
wordsmore than double the total of my entire book. I had no
boundaries around my work time in my life, and I would take lit-
erally any opportunity that came my way. My days, weeks, morn-
ings, nights and weekends were consumed with work. I ordered
my entire day around radio interviews, spent hours developing
blog content, stayed up late responding to comments, and would
drive across the country for speaking engagementseven if they
couldnt pay me any money.
Its no surprise to me, reading this now, that about seven
months after the book released, Id completely burnt out. My life
was all output and no input. I hated writing. Despised it. Even the
thought of getting up in the morning to write made me feel like I
was going to rip all of my hair out. I started to feel angry and re-
sentful of the work which at one point had been my dream job. I
felt depressed and anxious.
Something had to change.
Finally, I took a whole month off from blogging. This was the
first time I had taken time off from blogging in almost five years
and my hope was that, by taking some time away from the writing
space, I could remind myself why I loved it in the first place. My
hope was that I could come back at the beginning of the following
month and feel re-energized and ready to start again. And while
my month off was reenergizing, it wasnt enough. When I came
back, I still couldnt do it.
I was too burned out. Too far gone.
The only way I have made it through this season is what Julia
Cameron calls Artist Dates. She talks about our creative selves as a
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well and explains how anytime we draw from the well, we have
to replenish it. If we dont, the well will run dry and no matter how
many times we reach our buckets down there to get some water,
well come up with nothing.
Thats how I have felt the past few monthslike Im reaching
down into a well and coming up with nothing.
The preventative measure, or in my case, cure, Cameron gives
for this is basically the equivalent of taking yourselfthe artist
part of youon a date. If you think about the artist in you (the
delicate, vulnerable, creative part of you) as separate from your
everyday selfand if you think about what you would do to really
honor and care for that part of yourselfif you were going to take
him or her on a date what would you do?
It took me a long time to get to the place where I could give
myself permission to take the time for an Artist Date. Every time
I would consider doing it, my mind would race with all the things
still left undone and all the people who were ahead of me and fears
how I would never make it if I didnt work harder and faster and
longer than them.
At some point, I had to come the realization that the opposite
was really true. Id never make it if I didnt take care of myself in
this way. When all is said and donewhen weve show up for our-
selves and others, weve listened, weve fought the battle, weve
let go of control, weve allowed ourselves to be imperfect, weve
spoken up and connected with our audience, we discover what we
should have seen all along:
None of this would have been possible without what we
learned to do long before we learned what it took to be great writ-
ersto sleep, to eat, to explore, to notice, to touch, to taste, to feel,
to rest and to play.
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Something To Try: Artist Dates
For a minute, just think about the concept of a date. A date is
a special time that is set aside to do something unique, something
thoughtful, something that creates a connection between you and
another person. Have you lost connection with your creative self?
How can you reconnect with him/her? If you were to plan a special
date for this creative part of you, what would that look like? What
would be special for your artist self? How could you incorporate an
element of surprise or awe?
Remember this part of youthe creative partis the curious
part. This is the part that loves to explore new places, to go on ad-
ventures, to experience pleasure, to linger and to use all her senses.
This part of you doesnt just want a cup of coffee. She wants the
best cup of coffee in town. She wants the vanilla latte you never
allow yourself to get. She wants to smell it, to taste it, to sip it and
not gulp it. She wants to linger for a long time.
Artist Dates dont have to be a lot of money. They can be sim-
ple. When my husband and I were first married, we would go on
dates to Costco. We would try all the samples, wander down the
aisles to see all the new products, we would check out the TVs and
stereo systems we couldnt afford. Then we would get hot dogs and
soda for $1.50. It wasnt expensive or elaborate. But it was adven-
turous and fun and gave us a chance to connect with each other.
Think of your artist dates like this. Not expensive or elabo-
rate. But adventurous and thoughtful. Just a chance to re-connect
with your inner artist.
One thing I love to do for artist dates is go to Whole Foods.
I dont shop at Whole Foods on a weekly basis but I love eating
lunch or dinner in their prepared foods section and I love looking
at all the soaps and shampoos and natural cosmetic products. So
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every once in a while Ill take myself to Whole Foods and just give
myself permission to smell, taste, touch, see and even listen.
Its not elaborate or expensive. Most of the time I dont even
buy anything. But its exactly what I need to wake up my senses, to
be gentle with myself, to give myself permission to feel something
again.
If were ever going to become ourselves, as people and as writ-
ersif were ever going to discover our voiceswe must give up the
idea that rest and play, wonder and exploration, entertainment
and adventure come after we work, that they are a reward for a job
well done. Instead, we must see them as a prerequisite, a founda-
tion, the fuel we need to sustain ourselves and the raw material we
use to create what we are building.
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9
Learning To Hope
I used to be waiting for my big break, for that moment
I would feel like I had finally made it. Now I know
there is no such thing as a big break. The journey is the
reward.
If you would have asked me five years ago, I would have told
you the chances of me being able to write a book of my own some-
daylet alone to publish it, let alone to share it with people beyond
just my family and friendswas pretty much slim to none. If it
were going to happen, I figured, it would have to happen like this:
I would just be minding my own business, writing on my tiny
blog like I always did. One day, one of my friends would read what
I had written and something about it would interest them. They
would share it on their Facebook page. Then, one of their friends
would read it and would happen to work for a publisher and they
would say to themselves, quietly, wow, this woman is totally bril-
liant! Immediately, they would take my brilliant blog post to
their publisher and say, we cant wait any longer. We have to con-
tact this girl and give her a book deal.
Im fairly sure I imagined the CEO himself showing up on my
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doorstep with a giant check like Publishers Clearinghouse and
that would be the moment I would know this is what I was meant
to do all along.
I guess I dont have to mention thats not how my writing life
has unfolded. Not even close.
Instead, my first step toward being a writer was actually doing
it. It started because I couldnt not. Because I had to. Because it was
the only way I could cope with the sadness and grief I felt, the only
way I could express my anger. I had no intentions of ever sharing
it with anyone. I started writing for myself, in a journal, in my pri-
vate place. Thats where the healing began.
I practiced all the time in those early days. I worked in restau-
rants through college and graduate school and I can remember
coming home from work at 2am and grabbing my computer be-
cause I just had to get something down.
I remember writing long e-mails, or handwritten letters,
to my friends because something about writing just felt right. I
would go back over them, again and again, almost obsessively, to
get them just right.
Sometimes while I was working, an idea would come to me
and I would print blank receipt paper from the register or scribble
something down in my little server notebook.
All those ideas back then were just that: ideas. Most of them I
cant remember. But they laid the groundwork for the writer Ive
become. They are like the cement foundation you lay underneath
a house. You hardly see it. But what would you do without it? They
are what have brought me here.
In those days I had no idea who I was as a writer or as a person.
I was just feeling my way around in the dark.
Then, one day, when I realized there was a desire for my writ-
ing to go beyond me, I had to take a step. I had to decide to start a
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blog, first of all, then I had to decide to put stuff on itreally, real-
ly bad stuff. Thank God a publisher didnt stumble upon it, and if
they did, no wonder they ignored it. I needed more time to mature
as a person and as a writer.
Then, at some point, I took an even bigger steplets call it a
leap. I didnt have any idea if I would ever be able to really make
it as a writer. I hadnt met any publishers. I hadnt had anyone tell
mebeyond my parents and my friendsthat I was good at writ-
ing. But at some point, I had to decide writing a book wasnt really
about impressing anyone else. It was about getting my story down
on paper. I had to decide the intrinsic rewards were more import-
ant than the external ones.
I had to decide that, even if it didnt make me any money, if
it never paid my bills, if I would never become famous or be well-
known, I still wanted to do it. I had to decide writing was worth ev-
erything.
So, I quit my full time job. You can write a book without quit-
ting your full-time job, but for me quitting was symbolic. It was
my way of letting go of what was safe and comfortable to prove
writing this bookdiscovering myself and my unique voicewas
my first priority. I put my money, my time, my heart-energy and
my effort where my mouth was.
It wasnt all rainbows and unicorns after that. Not even close.
I struggled financially for years. I accepted food stamps. I took
public transportation. I sold most of what I owned and could still
barely pay my bills. My roommate and best friend at the time was
constantly and silently giving me money or clothes or groceries.
None of this happened like I thought it would; and on several oc-
casions I wondered to myself if I was doing it wrong. But one of
the greatest skills I learned in those days was how to hope. I could
never be where I am as a writer or as a person without hope.
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People think of hope like this bright and shiny word, like
a word you use when you want to describe a time when all of the
pieces of the puzzle just sort of clicked together. But in my expe-
rience, hope is found mostly in dark, dingy timesnot bright and
shiny ones. The times when we need hope most are the times when
nothing makes sense, when the electricity is almost shut off and
when it seems like there is no possible way this will ever work.
The times we need hope most are the times when hope seems
the most ludicrous. Hope is this quiet assurance that no matter
how bad things get, were going to be okay.
Anne Lamott says, When God is going to do something won-
derful, He or She always starts with a hardship; when God is going
to do something amazing, He or She always starts with an impos-
sibility. Hope, to me, is holding onto that.
Its really hard to keep hoping. Some days I feel ready to do it,
to keep showing up even when things dont turn out how I plan,
to stay faithful to my writing, even when I dont see the fruit of
my labor. Other days Im tired, or selfish, or I allow myself to col-
lapse into the fear that my hard work isnt ever going to pay off.
There is nothing shiny or wonderful about this. Hope is horrible,
heart-wrenching, back-breaking work. But were going to have to
learn how to do it if were ever going to truly discover ourselves, if
were ever going to grow into our unique voices as writers.
If you feel lost in the woods, as a writer or as a person, hope is
the only way to the other side. If you feel like youre feeling around
in the dark, but you dont really know where youre going or who
you are, hope is like the tiny crack of light that leads you out. You
might squint when you see it. It might seem fairly unwelcome.
After all, your eyes have adjusted to the dark. But its your only
chance of survival.
Several years ago I somehow found myself running a mara-
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thon. Its one of the stupider things Ive done in my life and to this
day Im not quite sure how it happened. It was one of those things
where you agree to one little thing at a time, just a series of small
tasks that dont seem like a big deal. Then, all of a sudden you find
yourself in over your head asking, Who agreed to this? How did
this happen? Thats how it happened with my marathon.
I started running to get in shape after graduate school. I had
spent too many nights sitting on my couch writing papers and
eating cookiesI dont need to remind you about the Thin Mints.
Plus, I was twenty-five, which Im convinced is the magic age when
your metabolism suddenly decides it wants to slow down, so I had
put on a good 40 pounds in just a little over a year. I wasnt exactly
feeling my best.
To make matters worse, I had booked a big hooray-for-fin-
ishing-graduate-school trip for myself to hike Machu Picchu in
Peru. A few friends of my guy friends had agreed to go with me
three of themand they were each in incredible shape. They were
the kind of guys who go hiking and rock climbing every weekend;
meanwhile I would get winded when I walked up the half-flight of
stairs to my apartment. I was going to have to get into shape if I
didnt want to get left behind in the middle of the Amazon.
So I decided to run a marathon to get in shape. I have no idea
how this idea calculated as a logical choice in my mind, but for
some reason it did. I looked up couch to marathon online and
found a training program and started following it. I lived in North-
west Portland at the time which is about 20 blocks up from the wa-
terfront. So when I first started, I would run downhill to the river,
which was about a mile, and then walk back to my apartment. Id
be huffing and puffing when I got home and would reward myself
with chocolate milk.
Slowly over time I built up my mileage. I kept doing this for
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several months until I could finally run 10 miles without stop-
ping. I felt like I was on top of the world. There was no way I was
getting left behind. I was a freaking Amazon woman.
Finally, the day of the marathon came and I was a nervous
wreck. I was running with my little sister, who is by far a better
runner than me. She was hopeful we would finish in four hours. I
was hopeful we would finish without dying.
For the first six miles of the race, I was having fun.
In fact, I was the eternal optimist, feeling like nothing could
possibly stop us now, talking and catching up with my sister and
explaining the strategies we should employ when we were tired
later on. We ran and ran and ran.
Twelve miles into the race I still felt pretty good. My family
showed up on the sidelines, we waved, and they cheered.
We can totally do this, I thought to myself.
See, now, you would think this was hopethat little bit of hap-
py self-talk you give to yourself along the way when things are go-
ing pretty wellbut Im not so sure. At this point in the race, you
hardly need hope. Youre still thinking clearly and feeling pretty
good and relying on your own strength for everything.
Eighteen miles into the run, we ran up a huge hill, which
looked daunting from the bottom, but we coached each other up,
reminding ourselves to take one step at a time. At the top, we cel-
ebrated our accomplishment, but also, my legs were starting to
cramp. I was tired and out of breath.
This is the first moment in the race when I wondered if I was
going to be able finish. This was the first part of the race when
hope had to kick in. When my sense of certainty ran out, when I
couldnt fathom how my body was going to hold up, when I no lon-
ger had an explanation for how this was going to happenthese
are the moments when hope grows.
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At mile twenty, a dear friend met us and jumped in the race
with us for about few minutes. She was all fresh-faced and happy
and telling us how amazing we were and that we were doing great.
I think I managed to grunt at her, but I cant remember. We kept
running, and running, and running.
At twenty-one miles, things got worse. My legs were cramp-
ing so badly now, it was hard to keep moving. People had told me
about this part of the race. Theyd called it hitting a wall but nev-
er in a million years did I consider that metaphor would feel so lit-
erally true. Actually, I think hitting an actual wall might have felt
better than that. Hope, at this point in the race, was ludicrous. But
at the same time, it couldnt have been more necessary.
How could I possibly finish this race? I could hardly walk, let
alone run.
A woman ran by in a bright pink hat and stopped briefly be-
cause she noticed my struggle. She was at least twice my age and
she was moving along at a totally remarkable pace. Compared to
me, she looked like she had just stepped out of a beauty pageant.
She handed me a small packet of salt and said, take thisit will
help. Then, she sped off.
After she left, I turned to my sister. What do you think she
means by, take this? I asked.
I think she means youre supposed to eat it.
This made no sense to me at all, but at that point all logic had
gone out the window and I was desperate. So I ate it and pretended
I was eating french fries and kept running. My sister encouraged
me to take slow, steady breaths.
We ran, and ran, and ran.
Finally, at about mile twenty-five, the salt kicked in and I
could practically see the finish line. People lined the streets hold-
ing signs andeven though only a few of them were for usthats
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not how it felt. It felt like all these thousands of people were throw-
ing me a giant partyme personally. They werent, of course, but
that didnt matter. Because suddenly I realized this was going to
happen. I was going to finish.
If you had asked me a few miles prior to this, I would have told
you this was impossible. And to be honest, Im still not exactly
sure how it happened. But I just kept coaching myself through the
last .2 miles the way I had been through the first 26.
Take deep breaths... Youve got this... One step at a time...
When I finally crossed the finish line, I started crying. These
are the moments when hope is grown, when you have no idea how
what just happened, happened. When youre certain something
beyond you just carried you. When you have hundreds of steps
left to take, but youre only sure you can take one. Sometimes just
one step is enough.
This is the kind of hope we need to cultivate if were ever go-
ing to make it as people and as writers. Because if we think all
we have to do is take a risk, all we have to do is work harder than
everyone else, all we have to do is follow a list of instructions and
the reward will be handed us, were in for some disappointment.
Your big break is not coming. There is no such thing as a big break.
The journey is the reward.
There are no guarantees youll write a bestselling book or that
youll be famous or that a million people will care about what you
have written. But that doesnt matter. The reward is who you are
becoming.
The hardest part about me helping you become a better writer
is that I cant do the hoping for you. Youll have to learn to do that
yourself. I know that probably isnt what you want to hear. Youd
rather me say, just follow these 10 easy stepsthats right, only
10 STEPSand youll become the writer you never dreamed you
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could be. (Three months or your money back). But I dont have
any ultimatums or guarantees like that.
What I can do for you is what my sister did for me. I can re-
mind you to breathe and to take it one step at a time. I can tell you
you have what it takes. I can even hand you a salt packet. I cant do
the work for you. I cant make you keep running, keep committing
words to paper. I cant give you guarantees. I can just tell you its
worth it.
I can tell you there is no feeling in world like crossing the fin-
ish line. There is nothing that compares to becoming yourself.

Something To Try: Just Keep At It
Becoming yourself is not a one-time event. Its not something
we achieve or accomplish in our lives, or a place where we arrive.
The more we can see this, acknowledge it, admit it, embrace itthe
more likely well be to keep hoping, to put one foot in front of the
other when we cant see the finish line, to do what it takes to make
it to the end.
This book is not a step-by-step process to finding your voice
as a writer. But my hope is, after you read these words, you will be
more aware of the journey you are on. My hope is you will have
more confidence in your ability to navigate this journey safely
and with intention.
There are days I want to quit. There are days I wonder if any of
this is worth it. There are days I worry Ill work and work and work
my whole life and it will be worth nothing. But Im also learning
to trust the process, to keep showing up, to keep listening, to keep
wrestling and being imperfect and letting go and reaching out for
moments of transcendence. Its not easy, but its worth it. Not be-
cause of how many books Ive sold. But because it is changing me.
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Im a little more confident these days, a little less lonely.
And because at the end of it all, I might not have a bestselling
book or a viral post to show for my hard work, but Ill have hope.
And maybe hope is what matters most.