|
Reading time: 544 218 words Hey Reader, “What on earth can you possibly write every single day that isn’t AI slop and isn’t just drivel after 3 days?” ^^ This was a comment on Katie Skelton’s LinkedIn post last week. She was talking about writing daily emails to her email list. (Katie is a massive email weirdo and teaches people all about email marketing and I think she’s fab — give her a follow. I’ve been sending more-or-less weekdaily emails since 2014 so I can attest to their power and delight.) Now look: being on someone’s email list isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. I get it. But I have always, and will always, advocate for having an email list for one simple reason: you own the data and control the delivery. You’re not at the whim of algorithms or social media gremlins. You’re not censored by people-slash-robots who don’t have any context for who you are or what you do. And you can more-or-less guarantee that when you send an email, it’ll actually reach the recipient (unlike the LinkedIn post that might reach 63 of your 5,000+ followers). But actually, that wasn’t my real problem with this dude’s comment. Here’s what I posted to Katie: “That is absolutely wild and also, I honestly feel sorry for people who believe stuff like this. Because it means they’ve lost the art of noticing things, and they’ve lost their playfulness, and they’ve lost the joy of existing in this wild and beautiful and scary and angry world. I hope they realise writing every day isn’t about (or shouldn’t be about) shoving more content into the world. It’s about having a unique perspective, wanting to share it, and making connections.” Writing is about thinking, noticing, and making connections. It’s impossible to run out of cool things to write about if we’re present in this world. It really is. I’m a nonfiction book coach, but one of the things I do incredibly well is showing people how interesting they are, how their opinions matter, and how they can change someone’s world by sharing their perspective. Whether they write a book or a LinkedIn post or a podcast episode, doesn’t matter. The point is to realise your perspective is unique, and use that to make a connection, and perhaps change someone’s way of seeing the world. This is why I write every day. Not all of what I write is for other people; much of it is just for me. But it’s always, always valuable because my writing practice helps me figure out what I think and why I think it. And it leads me down avenues I never would have gone down otherwise. So: write every day. Even if it feels like drivel to you at first, I promise it’s not. It’s the start of something wonderful. Here’s something that might help, especially if you’re thinking of starting your book: This pre-recorded workshop and workbook will get you thinking about your big idea. It’ll give you clarity, direction, and a solid place to start. You’ll get a bonus Reader Journey framework too, that you can use for your book — or for literally anything else you want to write! Even if you don’t end up writing a book, you’ll end up with a cool document full of your ideas that you could take in any direction you like. Grab it here, it’s just £99 + VAT:
TTFN, Vicky 🫡 p.s. Know someone who might enjoy this email? Please forward it to them and get them to sign up here.
|
Join 500+ writers, creatives, misfits, and weirdos and learn to write like you mean it in 10 minutes a week. Get ONE practical tip, story, or shenanigan every Tuesday + a creative goodie bag on Friday 🖖🏼
Reading time: 4.38 1,102 words Read this email in your browser. Hey Reader, “Would you like to go climbing?” he asked. “Climbing? Like, rock climbing?” I said. “I don’t know how.” “I’ll teach you.” 17 years ago (ish) I met the most handsome guy and we became friends. We both rode motorbikes and we both liked adventures and we both had no idea what we were doing. He flirted with me; I was, as always, oblivious. He taught me how to climb and I taught him that chaos can be fun. I cooked him...
Reading time: 0.56 220 words Read this email in your browser. Hey Reader, It was sunny out, but I was inside, in the dining room, burrowed under the table in a pile of cushions. The long tablecloth formed a den around me and my book. Nothing existed outside the little patch of light from my torch, which is why I didn’t notice my parents mobilising the neighbourhood to look for me. While the grownups grew increasingly frantic, I disappeared into my story. Stepping through the book and into the...
Reading time: 2.10 512 words Read this email in your browser. Hey Reader, Stop using the yoghurt brand method to define your audience, please for the love of Odin. I know what you’ve been told: NICHE NICHE NICHE! Niche so hard you need a candle and a shrine to the madonna. Niche until you end up with Sandra. She’s 38 years old, lives in a town, married with two children aged under 10, has a dog, wants to lose some weight so she can strut around in last year’s LBD, loves avocado toast and an...