I hate interviews where authors say things like, “I simply have to write, it’s like breathing.”

I don’t know about you, but I find it pretty easy to not-write. 

I just sit there. Or I eat more. Or I doomscroll. 

It feels easier, in the moment, to not-write, because writing can be hard. 

Vulnerable. 

Scary.

But what’s the real cost of not writing?

Gnawing envy when some other writer succeeds?

Growing older and slowing down, with your stories still buried inside?

Never again experiencing the thrill of soaring on the updraft of inspiration?

Forgetting who you are?

Being forgotten?

Not living as an authentic version of you?

Are you really willing to pay that cost? 

What’s Your Legacy?

One evening at university when I should have been reading a dry history text, I instead lounged in a threadbare armchair in my rented apartment, reading a paperback historical mystery about Richard III. My friend walked into the room and did a double-take.

“Oh!” she said. “That’s my great-aunt’s novel!”

The author, Josephine Tey, is long departed and I haven’t seen that friend for more than 20 years, but I can never hear anything about the Tudors (and I’m a history buff, so this comes up a lot for me) without thinking of my friend, and her great-aunt. They live alongside each other on a shelf in the permanent collection of my memory. 

That’s Josephine Tey’s legacy.

I treasure the memory of my friend Tony, big voice booming out at a local open mic night, trying out stories that might never be published, making me laugh and, later, being generous with his writing advice. It makes it feel like he’s still here with me, even as I miss him. 

I’m glad he took the chance on all the stories he wrote. 

That’s Tony’s legacy.

Who might be grateful for your legacy?

(Hint: it starts with you, but it ripples out from there to the people who love you and the people who will never meet you, but stumble across your story at exactly the right moment in their lives.)

Your stories will never be perfect. They don’t have to be.  They just have to be told, to make an impact. On you and on others. 

If you’re ready to take a chance on yourself and your writing, I have the framework that will support you. You’ll find it in the I, WRITER Course.

Starting June 4, 2022, your legacy begins.

What story will someone tell, one day, about the day they discovered your legacy? 

Join me in the I, WRITER Course

Registration ends today. And your new story begins.