As a writer who has been published—first time in my early 20s, most recently last year—I actually don’t like to write. I don’t have a problem writing; I write everything in my head—almost line per line—before hitting the laptop (including letters to my enemies). But the problem is getting my ass in the chair to get the words down.
I don’t want to do it (major mental tantrum here). How many people are really reading what I’m writing? How many people is it helping? Are they applying what I’m saying to their business? Do they think I know what I’m talking about? Does it make them want to work with me?
And now I’m hungry and have worn myself out. Oh, there’s nothing in the fridge for lunch so I have to leave the house, which means I have to put a bra on and clothes that don’t resemble pajamas.
Lunch and a few distracted errands later, I’m back home checking emails, responding to social media posts and now it’s time to walk Clyde.
You see where this is going.
I tell myself I have writer’s block, which sometimes is true but most of the time isn’t. I have sit-down-in-chair-and-open-blank-document block.
Part of the problem is I don’t want to write about PR and marketing all the time. I don’t even want to read about it most of the time. It’s fascinating, it’s how I’ve made a living for 15+ years, it’s how I’m wired, it’s how you build your business, but it’s only part of the story.
Growing a business takes so much more than public and community relations. Yes, you absolutely need it, but you also need self-confidence, motivation, focus, persistence, consistence, energy and peers that tell you the truth but also support you.
You need to know that it’s really hard, but really rewarding.
That you shouldn’t tie your business success with your self-worth.
That hustle doesn’t mean bags under your eyes, not seeing your friends and zero quality of life until you burnout. And that if you insist on burning out, it will take you twice as long to recover. And you will be way too tired to enjoy the fruits of your labor.
That you will be pulled in a million different directions with advice, newsletters, social media and courses until all you’re doing is learning and not making money.
That when you wake up and have no idea how to prioritize your to-do list, you should start with what will grow your revenue.
That when you get the flu—or some virus that no one you know has—everything you’ve built will not go down the drain. Even if you’re sick for eight days.
That if you handcuff yourself to your desk for several hours at a time, it probably won’t be your best work.
That doing things you enjoy like socializing, binging great TV and reading books that have nothing to do with business will actually make you better at what you do.
That those three biz books everyone is reading—and posting about—may not help you at all.
That you can still make money and not have to do one fucking webinar.
That when you create something and all you hear are crickets and you want to give up, think about all the things you haven’t given up on and why.
That one of the best ways to get out of a funk is to finish something. Anything.
That you really do know what the fuck you are doing (proof being how many clients’ revenue you’ve increased) even if the pizza delivery guy looks at you with those sad eyes.
That most people can’t write (including college graduates) and most people can’t write funny (including funny people). And most people don’t get told they should write a book (multiple times over).
And that it really all started with writing from a little desk in your bedroom in grade school. And it continued with writing. And you don’t have to write about what you don’t want to write about.
Write about what interests you. And the rest will follow.
