Reading time: 2.06

498 words

Hey Reader,

I’m elbow-deep in soil and worms, building a new vegetable bed, when Joe finds me.

He’s a bit surprised because I’m supposed to be writing my book.

“I thought you said you were too busy to bowl,” he says.

I am. Too busy to bowl, I mean. I’m supposed to be writing a book. So obviously I am now building a new vegetable bed and also cleaning out the greenhouse and filling the bird feeders. It’s URGENT.

I’m too busy to have FUN when I’m supposed to be writing.

And I’m too busy to write when all this gardening needs doing.

I am not, as it may appear, procrastinating. No siree.

Except obviously I am. There’s a knot in my chest, my jaw aches from grinding my teeth, and my ears buzz with a chorus that sounds very much like WHY AREN’T YOU WRITING, LOSERRRRRRRR?

My inner voice is kind of a dick… but it’s not wrong. I should be writing. I WANT to write.

I wasn’t writing because I don’t know how to start.

It’s not that I didn’t have time.

I didn’t know how.

Because “write a book” isn’t a task, it’s a Godzilla.

I’ve come a long way since that first book and I understand the psychology of avoidance now: why we procrastinate on things we don’t understand. Or on things that feel too big.

“I don’t have time” is usually code for “I don’t know how.”

Of course we don’t have time to do things that feel massive and overwhelming.

A book isn’t one huge task, it’s hundreds of tiny ones we haven’t worked out yet.

So instead we reorganise greenhouses, alphabetise cutlery, and sort thousands of googly eyes into size order.

We do anything but face the blank page, because procrastination isn’t laziness, it’s confusion in a feather boa.

So how do you eat Godzilla?

One leathery bite at a time.

My first book happened in tiny beetle steps:

• Day 1: Create a new document. Call it “book shizzle.” Celebrate.
• Day 2: Write one sentence. Any sentence. (“Why am I so damn tired and why is running a business so hard!”)
• Day 3: Google “how to write a book” for 10 minutes. Realise I don’t need to know that. I just need to write another sentence.

What’s your beetle step?

Not “write a chapter” or “outline the book.”

What’s the smallest possible thing you can do?

Create a document. Write a silly title. Set a timer for 3.5 minutes and word-vomit whatever comes out.

Repeat.

That’s how books get written: word by sweaty little word.

And yes, of course you need structure and technique and narrative and all that stuff and help is out there for that, but first you just need to start.

As for that vegetable garden, it’s still not finished… but the book got done. Then four more books followed. And dozens and dozens of client books.

The googly eyes can wait.

TTFN,

Vicky 🫡

p.s. Know someone who might enjoy this email? Please forward it to them and get them to sign up here.