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Reading time: 3.14 766 words Hey Reader, Halfway up Cader Idris, I ran out of everything: energy, patience, my breakfast, and the ability to form any coherent thoughts to solve the problem in front of me. The problem was that I hadn’t eaten enough breakfast and I hadn’t brought enough proper food and I really hadn’t thought the whole thing through. Good job my base level of fitness was high, ey? I stopped for a moment and considered: I could turn around and go back the way I came, which was mostly downhill and would really irritate me. Or I could take a beat, drink some water, eat an apple, and carry on. Turns out the apple had some kind of magical powers because that apple got me to the top of the mountain to make a little cheerleading pyramid with my friends on the trig point, and most of the way back to the car where a dirty chai latte with oat milk was waiting for me. If I’d listened to the ghouls in my head telling me that I was an idiot and unfit and one of those embarrassing people who get airlifted off the sides of mountains because they decided to climb in flip-flops (I was not wearing flip-flops) I would’ve had a little whimper and gone back home again. But I didn’t. Mostly because Joe was there to point out that I was hungry and maybe an apple would help. He showed me data that I couldn’t see because I was, honestly, too busy feeling sorry for myself and being embarrassed. Sometimes we just need someone to show us something we can’t quite see ourselves. My client, this week, told me she’d stalled in writing her book because, in her words, “I don’t want it to be that kind of book.” She was encountering resistance all over the place and was worried she was “getting it all wrong.” I don’t think you can get it wrong at this stage (or any). It’s all part of the process. It’s all data — not a stop sign. Feeling resistance? Dig into it. Going in the wrong direction? Explore why, then turn left. Or right. Or upside down. Pissed off with your words? Write yourself an angry note and be really specific. They’re not miracle cures but they’ll get you moving again. You can do this yourself, but it’s even better if you do it with someone else because they’ll see things you don’t. They’ll ask you questions you wouldn’t think of. You won’t like all the questions, but they’ll be helpful. This is just one of the small but powerful benefits of working with a writing coach. A tiny part of the way I work to unfck people’s writing process and help them build confidence. I could do this — and much more — for you, too, if you’re banging your head against a wall. I’m taking bookings for June now and here are your options:
Not sure which option is best for you? Book a chat with me here and let’s find out. TTFN, Vicky 🫡 p.s. Know someone who might enjoy this email? Please forward it to them and get them to sign up here.
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Reading time: 1.11 281 words Read this email in your browser Hey Reader, I step onto the beach with my board and pause. I can hear the sea, just… but I can’t see it; there’s too much fog. By a large driftwood log, I set up my little camp and warm up, watching shadowy figures emerge from the mist, boards under their arms. Their laughter drifts over my skin. Early surfers on their way for breakfast and the rest of their day. Mine’s just beginning. As soon as I pass the breakers, I’m alone with...
Reading time: 3.03 723 words Read this email in your browser Hey Reader, “What would make it possible?” When John Aaron, NASA engineer in mission control, worked on the Apollo 13 mission, he found himself sliding into despair. The oxygen tank had exploded. The crew were running out of air and time. The command module had to be shut down. And the ship was on its way back from slingshotting around the Moon. They were surviving in Aquarius, the lunar module, which was never designed as a...
Reading time: 2.36 615 words Read this email in your browser Hey Reader, “OPTIMIZE YOUR SLEEP!!!” screamed the subject line and my toes curled so hard they snapped off and flew into orbit, escaped the Earth’s gravity, and were last seen belting past the moons of Jupiter. Together with my final nerve. I don’t want to optimise my fucking sleep. I don’t want some stunted little techbro getting involved with my life even when I’m UNCONSCIOUS. I want to sit on lush green grass in the dappled shade...