On Writing, Ideas, and Making a Difference
Have you ever been so sure about something, so confident that you had the right plan — only to see it blow up in your face? Maybe, just maybe, despite all that frustration, those experiences are actually blessings in disguise.
That’s what Alece Ronzino learned after spending 13 years of her life in Africa.
It’s one thing to be determined, to have a clear path in life. But it’s quite another to choose the way of faith, to sacrifice and commit even when life gets hard.
Today is my last day of work before I launch out on my own as a full-time writer. It’s also Good Friday, a day of new beginnings only made possible by something else ending.
Today is the result of years of hard work and hustling, culminating in a dream finally come true. It’s a good day, but one not without its cost.
For the next 10 weeks, I’ll be featuring on this blog a new podcast called The Wrecked Sessions.
This show is limited to 10 episodes, each featuring a different guest. We’ll be delving more deeply into the issues I cover in my book, Wrecked — particularly, what it means to live a more selfless, purposeful life.
This is also a fun way for me to experiment with podcasting without making an indefinite commitment. If it works, I may do more of this sort of thing. Let me know what you think.
In this first episode, I’m interviewing my friend, Stephen Proctor, who has an interesting story of how he got wrecked and stays that way while in America.
It was bound to happen, I suppose. All this talk of platforms and tribe-building finally got to me. I’m sick of it.
Yes, I still believe in sharing messages deserving to be heard, but now I see the unfortunate byproduct of beating this drum. I see the nasty nuisance of incessant me-first mentalities.
And I’m about to quit the Internet because of it.
The Internet is full of cat videos, bad lip readings, and hilarious memes. But, believe it or not, there’s actually some useful stuff online, too.
When I set out to start my own online course, I didn’t know much about this space. I knew I wanted to deliver a quality learning experience to my readers that went beyond the scope of this blog, but that was about it.
After hearing Ramit Sethi say in an interview that before you can charge a certain amount for a information product, you better be willing to pay that much, I started signing up for online courses.
And boy did I learn some things.
It’s easy to write to try to make something popular. Just follow the standard formula:
-Choose a proven headline.
-Write a catchy intro that surprises, intrigues or seduces your reader.
-Follow up with supporting paragraphs.
-Make sure it’s scannable!
-Follow the template.
There’s only one problem with this: Formulas rarely work.
It’s not because they’re not based on sound principles. It’s because they sap all the energy and passion from your writing.
If you’re trying to build a platform in a world full of distractions, you’ve got your work cut out for you. Really, you only have two choices:
1. Get a friend named Donald Trump.
2. Build a platform you can be proud of.
If you happen to have a billionaire patron who’s willing to help buy your way into influence, great. Shut the computer down and go start building your empire.
But if not, then you had better get to work.
When I was young, my dad used to tell me stories before bed. These were tales that rivaled those of Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn — only they were true. He told me about growing up in Chicago, the same place where I was born, but our experiences were vastly different.
Each night, I got to hear a different story from my dad. He told me about the time he saw a UFO or when Santa Claus broke into his bedroom to give him a candy cane.
I became the audience of a mastery storyteller, enthralled with the unusual and interesting characters from another lifetime. These were incredible, audacious tales of bravery and adventure. And I was immediately captivated.
Every night, I would go to bed amazed. And every night, my dad would tell me the same thing: “Some day, you’ll have stories of your own to tell.”
But I never believed him. There was just no way I’d ever have stories like my dad’s — I was certain of it. They were just too incredible. And for the longest time, I was right.
It began with a simple question: “So what’re you giving up for Lent?” my friend Chad asked of our couples group from our church.
Most of us fidgeted uneasily, myself included. Some shared profound insights on the discipline of fasting, while others admitted they weren’t sure if they were giving up anything. When it was my turn, the silliest words imaginable escaped my mouth:
“I’m giving up coffee.”
“I can’t,” I said as a kid, growing up.
“There’s no such word as ‘can’t,’” Mom told me every time. And how right she was.
Funny how some conversations burrow themselves deep into our brains. There’s no such word as can’t? I wonder what would happen if we actually believed that — especially when it came to creative pursuits.
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