You Are a Writer Read online

  You Are a Writer

  (SO START ACTING LIKE ONE)

  BY JEFF GOINS

  You Are a Writer (So Start Acting Like One) / by Jeff Goins

  Copyright © 2012 by Jeff Goins, Goinswriter.com. All rights reserved. Published in the United States by YourDigitalBook.com. First edition.

  Cover design by Erin Marie Johnson, TheWanderingReader.com

  You are welcome to use a short excerpt of this book for review or critique purposes.

  For more information and other queries, contact [email protected].

  Contents

  Foreword

  Introduction

  Writers Are Born, Not Made

  The Truth About Writing

  Building a Platform

  Establishing a Brand

  Channels of Connection

  Getting Started

  Before Your First Book

  What Next?

  About the Author

  Share this Book

  Foreword

  Recently, I was reading a book about writing. In it, the author talked about how she just loved to write.

  Teachers told her she was a good writer, and they encouraged her talent. Magazines were eager to publish her work. She was continuously encouraged to write and share, but there was just one problem: She didn’t see herself as a writer.

  I’ve heard this kind of story numerous times from other writers: “Everyone encouraged me to write, but I just didn’t think I was good enough.”

  That story is not mine. Not exactly.

  I was never told I was a “natural” or that I should consider becoming a writer. I liked to write here and there. Mostly poetry — and bad, teenage drama poetry at that.

  I often received negative marks on my English papers, and I can’t remember one teacher telling me I was a good writer.

  In college, I would regularly watch a paper I was proud of get torn to pieces by my professors. At my first job, I was plagued by the red pen of criticism. It haunted me.

  The red pen isn’t bad when it’s followed up with an encouragement, but without it, such a rebuke can be devastating. Those red marks spoke to me loud and clear: I was not a writer. I would cry and brush it off and just accept the fact that I wasn’t a writer, until the day I realized I was one.

  Then, I felt like a fraud. I had an audience and was writing, but I wanted to hide. I never felt good enough. What if I was found out and exposed?

  But I’ve learned something important about my audience: They think I’m a writer. They believe something about me that I’m still wrestling with. That I can actually do this thing called writing.

  It’s taken me four years of blogging, failing, and growing, to be able to say, “I’m a writer.” You know why I say it now? Solely because I do the thing: I write.

  I write every day and have the privilege of a platform where people come to read my writing. It’s a gift, this thing we do — this writing — and the fact that people give us their time is a blessing we could never repay.

  We have an opportunity. To write words that matter, to change lives with language.

  I’m a writer. I bet you are, too.

  You have a unique privilege here. Jeff Goins is a day-in, day-out writer. He is diligent and focused and living his dream. He’s a writer, and he knows what it takes to guide you through this journey.

  In this book, Jeff will inspire you to claim who you already are. Along the way, he’s going to teach you some super-practical tips on perfecting the craft, expanding your platform, and getting your work published.

  This book is a gift. Indulge in it. Then, turn around and give the gift of writing to someone else.

  Sarah Mae, Writer

  SarahMae.com

  Introduction

  Hi. My name’s Jeff. And I’m a writer.

  Like most writers, I like to write. Not sell myself, or pitch ideas, or wait for publishers to pick me. Just write.

  I’ve stumbled upon this idea, you see, that writers shouldn’t spend their time doing what they don’t enjoy. Instead, they need to do what they love. They need to write.

  Sounds idealistic, right? But I believe this is the key to creating your best work.

  So how do you “just write”? I mean, let’s be honest. We’ve all heard how writers need platforms and influence and great marketing, right?

  But how do you do that?

  That’s what this book is about. It’s about falling back in love with your craft and building a platform, so you don’t have to pitch or sell yourself. Instead, you can focus on what you were made to do: write.

  Before we get into that, though, introductions are in order.

  Why Listen to Me?

  I’m nobody special. Just a writer who got frustrated with a broken system and decided to do something about it.

  This idea isn’t new. Lots of writers are building platforms that earn them the chance to deliver a message. They’re focusing on passion, and people are paying attention.

  That’s all I’m going to share with you — nothing you couldn’t Google on your own. There is, however, something that qualifies me to share this with you, something unique that I am quite familiar with: the frustrations of a writer.

  The long nights. The thankless work. The bad pay. I know them all quite well.

  But here’s the rub: It doesn’t have to be this way. There is a way out of this “feast or famine” cycle in which most writers find themselves. A way to even break the chains of fame and accolades, to spurn the addiction of an audience and create lasting work. A way for the gatekeepers to come to you.

  There is a way for you to live what every writer dreams of: never having to write a proposal or query letter again. Never having to pitch, never having to compromise. Wouldn’t that be great?

  I’ve learned the secret to writing for the love of it and getting acknowledged for your work.

  And I’m going to share it with you.

  Writers Are Born, Not Made

  Every day, somewhere, a writer is born.

  She comes into the world with a destiny: to share her words and proclaim a message. To make a difference.

  These words have the power to move and motivate strangers, to shake the earth and rattle the heavens. If only she would share them.

  It’s a choice, writing is. One that belongs to you and me. We get to choose it (or not) every single day. So whether or not the world hears your message — whether you leave the impact you were born to make — is entirely up to you.

  Scary, isn’t it?

  There are, of course, thousands who won’t make this choice. They’ll fail to be who they are and live up to their calling.

  We will forever miss their words. And this is tragic.

  The Would-Be Poet

  Cole Bradburn is a chiropractor who longs to be a poet.

  Most days, he works in an office, helping people improve their health. Secretly, though, he longs to make a difference with his words. Some day, he hopes. Maybe. “If I’m lucky.”

  It’s not that Cole hates his job. He rather likes it. Which is the whole problem. There’s another life he longs to live, one that feels at odds with the one he’s living.

  The world, it seems, is full of people like this. Closet artists and aspiring authors, people longing to do meaningful work that inspires. There’s just one problem: They’re not doing it.

  Many of us worry about our lives, whether or not we’ll make an impact. In the late hours or early mornings, we wonder what we’ll be remembered for, what our legacy will be.

  While some people are trying to make it through another week, others find themselves succeeding in the wrong things—and despairing as a result.

  Make no mistake. All of us at some point
wonder if what we’re doing matters.

  The answer taunts us. It whispers from afar. Keeps us wondering and waiting. All the while, deep inside our hearts, something dangerous stirs. Something we’re afraid to admit.

  Creating a Legacy

  Years ago, I was in Spain. As part of a college study abroad program, I was spending the fall semester of my junior year in Seville, a beautiful, historic city full of art and wonder.

  On a very ordinary day, my friend Martha and I took a trip to La Giralda, the impressive tower adorning the world’s third-largest cathedral in the city. After ascending the massive spiral staircase, we gazed out an opening, overlooking the city. We looked down, watching thousands of souls pass by, from the place where Columbus was allegedly entombed.

  As we descended the stairs and exited the tower, Martha posed a thought I’ll never forget: “I wonder what kind of legacy I’ll leave.”

  It hung in the air for all to hear.

  On the ground floor, we stopped and stood in front of the altar. There we were, surrounded by centuries of art, and Martha wanted to know which of her creations would endure. Would still be standing in another thousand years.

  I had to wonder the same.

  We are all hoping something we do in this world matters. That what we create will stay with people forever. As Steve Jobs, the infamous founder of Apple Computers, once said, we all long to “put a dent in the universe.” To leave some kind of impact on this ball of dirt.

  But most of us, tragically, won’t.

  We’re afraid of the cost. Worried we don’t have what it takes. Anxious of the road it takes to get to greatness. So we play it safe and abide by the rules. Before we start, we sabotage our work and subvert our genius.

  And how, pray tell, do we do this? With words. Subtle but serious words that kill your passion before you can pursue it. Words like “aspiring” and “wannabe.” Words like “I wish” and “someday.”

  There is a solution to this. A simple but hard way of facing your fears and living the dream: Become who you are.

  And who are you? A writer, if you’ll believe it.

  I hope you do, because we need your voice. We need your message.

  Until you acknowledge this — that you are a writer — you are depriving the world of a gift it longs for. One that stands the test of time. One that could leave a legacy.

  Finding the Dream

  “All is not lost, all is not lost / Become who you are / It happens once in a lifetime.”

  —SWITCHFOOT

  About a year ago, a friend asked me what my dream was, and I told him I didn’t have one. Which was exactly the wrong thing to say.

  “That’s too bad,” he said, baiting me. “Because I would’ve said it was to be a writer. I guess I was wrong,” he shrugged, turning away.

  I began to steam. Swallowing hard and working up the courage to speak, I finally uttered, “Well, I guess it is. I mean — I suppose I hope to maybe be a writer… some day.”

  My friend looked at me intently and said without blinking, “Jeff, you don’t have to want to be a writer. You are a writer. You just need to write.”

  Those words struck a chord in me. The next day, I started writing. Without excuse or exception, I began.

  And you know what? My friend was right. Pretty soon, I became a writer — at first without realizing it. It began with a few hundred words before the sunrise. But pretty soon, I was publishing articles and producing work on a regular basis that frankly surprised me.

  I found my dream not by searching for it, but by submitting to what I had always hoped was true: I was, in fact, a writer. All I had to do was write.

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

  Falling Back in Love with Writing

  The first time I fell in love, I was twenty years old. At least, I thought I was in love. Little did I know it was quite the opposite.

  The relationship was all wrong from Day One. This girl and I broke up and got back together exactly four and a half times — the half being when we started going out again but didn’t tell our friends (because we had already broken up four times).

  After the last cycle of breakups and make-ups, we stayed together for a while: a year and a half, to be precise.

  Eventually, the relationship started to stabilize and grow stale. It became comfortable and then boring. Soon, the feelings faded, and all that was left was a commitment neither of us wanted to be in.

  The problem, though, was we didn’t know how to end it. We felt stuck.

  As the relationship fizzled, I grew distant and she stopped showing affection. We found clever and convenient ways to avoid each other. Still, for some reason, we stuck it out. We just couldn’t end it — it was an awful, confusing cycle.

  I felt the way a lot of people in broken relationships feel. I felt trapped. We were hanging onto something longer than we should have. But we were scared and didn’t know how to let go of what had become safe and predictable.

  Finally, one day, the relationship ended. The final break happened on accident, as all the best ones do. We started talking about the past few months, and before we knew it, we were saying goodbye.

  Afterwards, I remember going to the park, lying on a picnic table and breathing a deep sigh of relief. I finally felt free.

  Years later, I’m reminded of that experience when I look at my approach to writing.

  When You Feel Trapped

  It will happen, eventually. You will do something you love, and after awhile, you’ll forget why you started. Whether it’s a relationship, a career, or a calling, you’ll start to feel trapped.

  This happens to the best of us. We lose steam and want to break up with our passions. We achieve success, and it doesn’t matter.

  Why? Because the reason we started no longer motivates us. We check out and want to move on. We dream of quitting.

  What you do next, though, is what forms your character. It’s what determines the course of your life’s work and what makes a legacy. It’s the difference between someone who creates something memorable and meaningful — and someone who just gives up.

  When this happens, you’re in a tough place. You start resenting what brought you so much attention in the first place. You may even find yourself longing to reinvent your work.

  Musicians experience this. So do marketers. Writers do, as well. But what do you do with it?

  If you’ve had any success in your craft, you know what I’m talking about. One day, you write something, and an audience shows up. And this changes everything. Because now you have customers — people to impress.

  That’s when things start to get tricky.

  Every writer experiences this. At some point in your journey, you find yourself writing for the approval of others, not for pure love of the craft. You’re no longer satisfied with your passion, and there’s nothing you can do about it. All these royalty checks, all this blog traffic — you’re stuck.

  At these times, you’ll want to give up. Throw in the towel. Move to another country, buy a cabin in the mountains, and forget about the world. But this is not the end. It’s only the beginning of another journey.

  Whether you’re starting to tackle writing for the first time or a lifelong veteran, rest assured. There is better work you’ve yet to create. If you will make one important choice: Stop writing for accolades, and start writing for passion.

  Once I stopped trying to please people, I found an even larger audience. I fell back in love with writing. And it made all the difference.

  This took courage, but it was worth it.

  A year ago, I never would have imagined I’d be writing words that would be moving thousands of people every day. Now, I can’t imagine living any other way.

  The more I love what I do, the more others do, too. This is the paradox: When you stop writing for readers’ affections, your work will affect more people.

  But
how do you do this? Where do we begin? There are three steps I took. Let’s look at the first.

  Becoming a Writer

  It took the tough love of a friend to remind me I had a dream. But the pursuit of fame had poisoned that dream. The promise of getting published and paid the big bucks distracted me from doing the real work. The work of writing.

  Those words reverberated in my mind: You are a writer. You just need to write.

  So that’s what I did. Not thinking about writing or talking about it, but actually doing it. Which is the hardest thing in the world for a writer to do.

  I would wake up at 5:00 a.m. every morning and write for hours before going to work. When I finished the day, I’d spend another couple hours in the evening. Just writing.

  I would write on lunch breaks and when I could grab a spare moment. I’d stay up late and put in weekend hours. Every chance I could get, I was writing.

  I didn’t care about anything else. I was euphoric. I was in love.

  Maybe you’ve experienced this. Maybe you hope to. Either way, I want to make something clear.

  You are a writer. You just need to write.

  It’s time to kill the excuses and start writing. Time to become a writer again. Not a marketer or an entrepreneur. Not a blogger or businessperson. A writer. A real one.

  All of this — this business of becoming a writer — starts not with the hands, but with the head.

  Turning Pro

  When I started writing, I had all sorts of anxiety. Who was I, pretending to be a writer? How could I possibly call myself one when I hadn’t even written a real book, hadn’t been published or paid for my work?

  As I began to pursue my craft, I learned something important. In fact, I’m still learning it.

  Writing is mostly a mind game. It’s about tricking yourself into becoming who you are. If you do this long enough, you begin to believe it. And pretty soon, you start acting like it.

  When I started writing, titles intimidated me, and I wondered what it would take to “arrive,” to be considered legitimate. I secretly worried I would never feel like a writer, despite what I told myself.