Write the Way You Want to Live (2)
The more you write, the clearer you become. And the clearer you become, the deeper your writing goes. It’s a cycle that changes everything.
Write the Way You Want to Live 2
This is not a program or a course on how to write.
This isn’t even a pitch to sign-up for any of my coaching services.
This is a treatise on what happens when you commit to being in a relationship with writing.
This is an invitation to write the way you want to live: deeply personal, authentic, empowered and free!
Yet, most people arrive here unsure. Unsure if they’re allowed to write. Unsure if they’re good enough. Unsure if their thoughts matter. And beneath that uncertainty lives a deeper wound, carved by early ridicule, shaming teachers, forgotten dreams, and the silencing habits of survival.
Writing brings all of it to the surface. The monkey mind. The inner critic. The shame. The belief that everyone else has permission except you. That what you say will never come out right. That the blank page is proof you have nothing worth saying.
And still, you want to write.
You want to slow your thoughts into sentences. You want to stay with a feeling long enough to know what it means. You want to reclaim the parts of yourself that were shamed for speaking out or laughed at for being too much. You want to write through what you’ve spent years avoiding. And you want that writing to mean something to someone, but mostly to you.
“The scariest moment is always just before you start.”
– Stephen King
At first, most writing is flat. It tries too hard to be clever or polite. It repeats what’s already been said. It feels unsure and scattered. Not because the person lacks talent, but because they haven’t yet connected with the voice inside that dares to be sincere.
Writing begins that way for almost everyone. Frivolous. Unclear. Surface-level.
But if you stay with it, if you keep showing up to the page, something starts to shift. Writing worms its way in. It breaks through performance and taps the nerve of something real. A sentence catches you off guard. A memory returns without warning. You tell the truth without planning to. That truth leads to another, and another.
“Writing is not life, but I think that sometimes it can be a way back to life.”
– Stephen King
This isn’t about discovering some grand, finished truth. It’s about the ongoing unveiling of what has always been waiting. The writing changes you. And as you change, the writing deepens. You begin to recognize your own voice. You start to trust it. Not because you’ve mastered craft, but because you’ve stopped trying to prove yourself.
A closed loop begins to form. A sacred cycle. Clarity brings more honesty. Honesty brings better writing. Better writing brings you home to yourself.
“The creative process is a process of surrender, not control.”
– Julia Cameron
On this path, you’ll write. But more importantly, you’ll become someone who can live in alignment with the truth of your writing.
You’ll learn how to stay present with discomfort. How to be gentle as you survey new territory. How to sit with incomplete thoughts, fragments of memory, the sting of old criticism, and the slow emergence of something new. You’ll meet the orphaned parts of yourself — the ones who were once silenced, shamed, or ignored, and invite them back into the story.
You’ll find yourself feeling more. Questioning more. Caring less about what others think and more about what feels true in your body. You’ll begin to notice where you’ve been performing your life, and where you’re ready to inhabit it with honesty.
You may feel the tension of transition. The disorientation of becoming. But inside that tension, something rare emerges: devotion. Not to writing for recognition, or for output, or for applause, but writing because something in you has finally remembered what it means to be alive.
“The function of the writer is to reveal the truth about the human condition, not to escape it.”
– Henry Miller
The more you write, the clearer you become. And the clearer you become, the deeper your writing goes. It’s a cycle that changes everything.
You may sleep less. Or walk longer. You may find yourself craving solitude or seeking conversations that crack something open inside you. You might discover that your irritations in daily life are not a problem to fix, but a sign that something deeper wants your attention.
Writing rearranges you. It makes things more vivid, more raw, more real.
And that’s exactly the point.
“Tell the truth. Write as if your life depends on it. It does.”
– Natalie Goldberg
This is for those who are ready to find out what their truth is and how to write it.
In the process, you won’t just become a writer, you will write the way you want to live.