How Reading and Writing Will Transform Your Destiny
But you have to put pen to paper in a very specific way.
Happy Saturday Morning. Thank you for reading. Sorry, no audio this week—I’m in a casino deep in Louisiana (long story), and I didn’t bring my microphone. I’ll record next week.
This week, we’re doing reading, writing, and destiny.
Years ago, living in Austin and working in sales, I wanted to write a novel.
I remember exactly where I was when I first put “pen” to “paper” (I was using Google Docs because that’s what we used at my company). I had to pull a book off my shelf (Island by Huxley) to remember how the hell dialogue was formatted.
If I knew then how far I was from my goals (be a full-time, published writer), I probably would’ve thrown that book out my window. Thank God I didn’t know.
Proudly naive, I started writing.
And I didn’t stop for the next eight years.
Almost none of those words (well over a million) received any recognition.
But, like the meals I ate, they transformed me.
How I Wrote My Destiny
Stupidly and blindly (at first), I wrote down who I wanted to be.
Then, I read what other people wrote and compared it to mine. Mostly… not even close.
In essays like this (which you probably can still find somewhere… but please don’t), I wrote about my dreams, my fears, and where I wanted to go—to be a bestselling fiction author (practically an oxymoron), a movie writer, and to climb Kilimanjaro in shorts.
Not only was I too stupid to know how to get what I wanted, but I was also too stupid to know what to want. But, now that I’ve gotten some distance from that time, I see what a glorious mess all of that was. There is no cure for stupidness except to stumble forward.
That’s how I wrote my destiny. By starting stupid, failing often, and aiming outrageously high.
There was just no possibility that I would come out with a bestselling novel—first try (no matter how much I secretly thought I would). However, by making movements toward something worthwhile, I made the mistakes I needed to make to correct my movements. Over the years, the mistakes become less egregious and the corrections smaller.
I was closing in.
Conquer the Fear of Social Rejection
The reason I call this whole thing “The Warrior Creative” is because I meet a lot of creatives. I know what you’re like. Almost all of you are too afraid to publish something. Those fears are correct. Publishing, especially at first, is horrifying. What’s required is courage—not comforting lies.
I come from a very conservative family in the south. Trust me; I sometimes wake up in a cold sweat, embarrassed about something I wrote a long time ago. Then, I remind myself of this: this is pretty much the hardest thing about writing. If I can handle this, I can handle anything.
It’s not the words. It’s not the connections. It’s not plot, story, or character. The hardest thing about writing is getting the chutzpah to hit “publish” before you’re ready. And you’re never ready. Ever.
Deep in our monkey brains, we are wired to fear social rejection. A long time ago, it meant we would likely starve. Luckily, thanks to advents like Walmart and a global supply chain, that will not happen.
Regardless, many would-be writers sit there, waiting until they feel “ready.”
It won’t happen.
Come, join me in the stupid pool.
Here, we try things before we’re ready.
We correct as we go.
Eventually, you look back and say, “Damn, I’ve gotten a lot better.”
I can’t wait for you to have that day.
Talk to you next week,
Taylor
P.S.
Every time you share this newsletter, a new writer publishes their shitty poetry.
My articles from the week inspired this newsletter (another one to be published later today):
Why ‘Right-Brain Writing’ Makes Writing Exhilarating Again
Here’s what else I’m reading:
New Gods at The End of The World
Can Reading Fiction Make You a Better Person?
And quotes I’m pondering:
“Do not foolishly ask of the inscrutable, obliterated past, what it cannot tell.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson
“The pendulum of the mind oscillates between sense and nonsense, not between right and wrong.” — Carl Jung
“As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so a life well spent brings happy death.” — Leonardo Da Vinci