Mark Levy

Write Only the Stories You Can Write, or "Write From Where You Are, Not From Where You Aren't"

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Rick Liebling is one of the 171 authors of the forthcoming book, “The Age of Conversation 3.” He kindly offered to post interviews on his blog with the other authors. My interview is here.

Six months ago, a couple of friends recommended I write a chapter for the book. Not being experienced at social media, I hesitated because I wasn’t sure what I could add. After some thought, I came up with a topic.

People involved in social media want to connect with others and change the world. Lofty goals, right? But as ambitious and meaningful as those goals are, people are still people, and they sometimes get stuck for what to say. They hit a block in their thinking or writing.

In my chapter, “A Fast, True Way for Creating Content,” I share a method for creating content I developed years earlier as a writer of newspaper and magazine articles.

For me, the most interesting thing about my chapter is how I approached it. I didn’t pretend I was knowledgeable about social media. Instead, I approached it from a direction where I had  experience: as a professional writer who often faced deadlines. I tackled the chapter from strength rather than weakness.

That strategy – approach a piece of writing from what you are rather than what you aren’t – is something I learned fifteen years ago from David Fryxell’s book, “How to Write Fast (While Writing Well).” In it, he said: “Write only the stories you can write . . . “

In other words, if you’re stuck or you’ve got to get the writing done, forget about “the perfect” way of crafting the story. Try for perfection (or experimentation or growth) next time. If you’re pushed to get the piece out the door so it can go to press, write it in a way that works for you. Approach it from an angle that’s comfortable.

That advice may not inspire you, but it’s advice that’s likely to save you from misery.

Think, then, about a post or other piece of writing that has you stuck or that you’ve been afraid to approach. Perhaps the subject feels too big, important, or foreign. How might you cut that subject down to a size you can handle? In what ways can you narrow your focus so the project becomes doable?

The Red Car Trick

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Besides being a business consultant, I’m also a magician. I invent illusions, design magic shows, write instructional magic books, and position performers.

If you read Seth Godin’s recent post about Steve Cohen, “The Millionaires’ Magician,” you’ve seen my work in action. Steve has been my client and friend for a decade. I positioned him, and co-created his two Off-Broadway shows, “Chamber Magic” and “Miracles at Midnight.”

Steve and I have invented several tricks I think of as theatrical. I’d like to tell you about one.

Years ago, when “Chamber Magic” was getting off the ground, Steve gave me a call. He said a New York newspaper reporter had been in the audience, was impressed, and asked to meet Steve later in the week for an interview. If the interview went well, the newspaper would devote nearly a page to the story. Steve and I took this as a challenge. An article in a New York paper was worth thousands of dollars of publicity.

During a fast brainstorm, I hit upon an idea. We drafted an email and shot it off to the reporter. The body of the message read something like this:

“Steve Cohen here. Thank you for offering to interview me. Let’s meet tomorrow in Manhattan at noon at the National Arts Club. And, if you’re game, I’d like you to participate in an experiment.

“On your way here, keep a running tally of every red car you see.

“Don’t, however, write down or mention the final figure to anyone. It should remain a secret until we meet. Just keep it fixed in your mind.

“A few additional points:

“You told me you live in Brooklyn, which is six miles from where we’ll be meeting. You have a few routes you can travel. Perhaps you’ll take the Brooklyn Bridge. Or, the Manhattan Bridge. Or, the Williamsburg Bridge. You also have the choice of dozens of avenues and streets.

“What’s more, you have several transportation methods you can use.  You can walk, cycle, rollerblade, drive, grab a cab, board a bus, ride a horse, take a helicopter, or mix and match. Each method will likely alter your route some. That’s fine. It’s your choice.

“Then, there are the cars. You decide what constitutes a ‘red car.’ It can be completely red or have just a red detail. It can be moving or parked. You can count red trucks and SUVs, too, or you can ignore them. Follow your impulse.

“Again, make sure you’re not making your counting obvious. No fingers or pads of paper. And, take precautions that you’re not being followed (check the foot traffic, the autos, and the air).

“See you tomorrow.”

The next day, Steve was waiting as the grinning reporter walked in and said: “I couldn’t sleep last night. I have a feeling you’re going to tell me how many red cars I’m thinking of.”

“Did anyone follow you?” asked Steve.

“No,” said the reporter.

“Did you see red cars?”

“I did.”

“Did you write down how many you saw, or share that figure with anyone?”

“No.”

“But you have the number safely in mind.”

“I’m thinking of the number, yes.”

“You’re not going to change it, will you? I mean, you’re a reporter and are sworn to the facts and the truth.”

“I promise I won’t change it.”

Steve picked up a business card, scribbled a figure on it with a pencil, and held the facedown card out to the reporter.

“How many red cars did you see?” asked Steve.

“61.”

When the reporter turned the card over and saw a penciled “61,” he punched and kicked the air, shouting, “Man! This almost makes me believe in real magic!”

Steve got his article.

Why did I tell this story? I told it because, well, it’s a damn good story. Its got an intriguing premise and action that unfolds on the streets of Brooklyn and New York. It’s also got a big city reporter who’s so affected by the experience that he lies awake in anticipation and nearly starts believing in miracles. What could be better?

Stories are what remains long after the show has been packed away. They’re evidence that miracles occurred.

When Steve and I come up with an illusion for him, we simplify it until we believe it’s easy for audiences to remember and talk about. If they do talk about it, great. If they don’t, we pull it from the show and start over. Everything we invent is based on the memories it provokes.

Doing tricks that lead to stories is forceful marketing. The audience acts as missionaries and carries word of the show with them.

If you dare to take the same approach in your business, you may see miracles happen there as well. Once you’ve completed a project and are heading home, ask yourself “What will remain? What will clients talk about? What will they be excited by?  What won’t they be able to forget? What will they share?”

(This post is drawn from an article I wrote for “Genii,” a venerated magic magazine published by Richard Kaufman.)

Is Your Brand Intentional or Unintentional?

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In my last post, “Make Your Elevator Speech Distinctive,” I said I’ve become known as “the guy who helps his clients raise their fees by up to 2,000%.” That’s true. People refer to me as the 2,000% guy all the time.

It’s important to note, though, that my 2,000% “brand” or “promise” had to be invented. That is, I had to dig through my projects and study the facts, after which I discovered this result I’d been producing but hadn’t been advertising. If I hadn’t dug, the market wasn’t going to come up with that fee-raising benefit on its own.

You could call my 2,000% moniker a feat of intentional branding. I manufactured it, and pushed it out there through my materials, networking, workshops, and speeches.

At times, though, I’m not sure we have to work so hard coming up  with a brand. Sometimes a brand finds us. Call it unintentional branding. I have a story about that kind of branding, too.

I wrote the first edition of my problem-solving book, “Accidental Genius,” ten years ago. At the time, I was 37 years old, and let me tell you: For the first 37 years of my life, no one ever called me a genius. Not once. Enthusiastic, yes. Creative, yes. Funny, yes. A genius? No.

When “Accidental Genius” was released, that changed. Suddenly, people were calling me a genius right and left. Since the book came out, I must have been called by that name five hundred times.

Understand, I’m not knocking it. Every time I’m called a genius, I’m grateful. But here’s the thing: In the ten years since that book came out, I’m no smarter than I was the previous 37. If anything, I’m not as bright as I once was.

The word, though, became associated with me through repetition. 25,000 copies of my book were sold with my name and the word genius on the cover. I gave speeches where I talked about ways of accessing your genius. I did dozens of interviews where I talked about how people could have “a genius moment.” The association was unintentional, but it stuck.

My questions to you, then are these:

  • What happy branding accidents have happened in your career?
  • How have you been tagged by your audience in ways you didn’t expect?
  • Is there a brand growing around you that you’ve been ignoring or resisting?

Make Your Elevator Speech Distinctive

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When people ask what I do for a living, I can’t help but smile. I tell them the following: “Consultants and entrepreneurial companies hire me to help them increase their fees by up to 2,000%.”

I must have delivered that elevator speech a thousand times, and every time it’s gotten me that treasured response: “How do you do that?”

I didn’t always have a good speech. I used to talk about how I made people memorable or compelling or made them stand out. Now, there’s nothing wrong with saying those things. I still say them. But I was uncomfortable making claims without supplying facts to back them up. So I went hunting for the facts.

Using the freewriting technique I teach in “Accidental Genius,” I typed into my computer as fast as I could for a couple of hours about who my clients were, why they hired me, and how I’d helped them. I wasn’t straining to find the exact right thing to say. I was merely talking to myself about my business while doing a freeform information dump.

One of the things I wrote about was what had happened once my clients adopted the positions I created for them. Did  they become  famous? Find more prospects? Work on better  projects? If so, where was the proof? What were the facts?

I happened upon fees. A client who used to charge $1,000 for an engagement, now charged $20,000. Hmm. A second client, who used to charge $350 an hour, now made $25,000 a day. Huh. A third client, who had been asking $3,000 for a keynote speech, now commanded $20,000. Hah. A pattern was forming.

I was a positioning consultant and writing coach, sure. But I was also the guy whose work helped clients “raise their fees by up to 2,000%.” My assertion was an attention-grabber, in part, because it wasn’t based on some notion I cooked up. It was based on facts.

The right facts make you distinctive.

When people ask me about creating their own elevator speech, I tell them to first list as many facts as they can about their business. Facts about their clients, process, services, products, results, philosophy, guarantees, and background, among other things. Obvious stuff. A long undifferentiated list.

I then ask that they look through that list for distinctive facts. In other words, which items on the list stand out? Which are interesting? Which are unusual? Which tell a story?

When looking for distinctions, some people freeze up. They think that finding distinctions is a special skill. It’s not. Most of us already know how to do it perfectly. We could do it in our sleep. It’s no harder than when we talk about a movie.

If a friend asked about a movie you just saw, you wouldn’t hesitate until you found just the right thing to say. You wouldn’t recount every scene. Instead, you’d head straight for something distinctive:

  • “It’s about a robot that travels back in time to protect its inventor.”
  • “It’s a horror film in 3-D.”
  • “It’s based on a play that won the Pulitzer.”
  • “It’s the new Daniel Day-Lewis film.”

Finding business facts to talk about is no different. Let yourself experiment. Look over your fact list, search it for distinctions, and write elevator speeches around those distinctions:

[For a business development consultant] “I design sales pipelines for small businesses that bring in, on average, an additional two hundred thousand dollars in revenue during the first six months alone.”

[For a productivity consultant] “Organizations like HP and Proctor & Gamble hire me to set up their employee rewards programs.”

[For a fitness trainer] “For eight years, I was a Marine Lieutenant. Now I teach people how to be as fit and tough as a combat Marine.”

The purpose of an elevator speech is to get the right people interested in you. It’s to start a conversation.

You may not find the proper speech right away. As you do more projects, come back to the exercise and add facts and distinctions to your list, and see how those might change the elevator speeches you’ve written.

Telling the Same Story Differently

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A few years ago, Matt Madden wrote and illustrated a book of cartoons called, “99 Ways to Tell a Story.” In it, he tells a single story 99 times – in 99 different ways.

The single story is itself uneventful. A man, working on his laptop, gets up and heads towards the kitchen. A voice at the top of the stairs calls out, “What time is it?” The man glances at his wristwatch and says “It’s 1:15.” He opens the refrigerator and scowls, because he’s forgotten what he was looking for. End of story.

Madden first tells it as a monologue. He then tells it from the man’s point of view. He also tells it as a how-to, a flashback, a comedy, a calligram, a public service announcement, a political cartoon, in silhouette, in close-ups, from the refrigerator’s point of view, as if it were overheard in a bar, and as a homage to Marvel illustrator Jack Kirby, among other inventive ways.

Any story can be told from dozens of angles, in countless styles. Each angle and style reveals something previously hidden. It’s an important principle to remember, and doesn’t only apply to cartoons or even fiction. The idea of differing angles and styles is something to think about for your business communications.

Two weeks ago, Kristen Frantz from Berrett-Koehler Publishers asked me to make a video about the forthcoming edition of my book, “Accidental Genius.” The reason: Berrett-Koehler uses a prominent outside sales rep group, Ingram Publisher Services, to sell its books to bookstores, and Kristen thought it would be good if at sales conference the group saw how committed to selling the book I am.

I never before made a video. The result was too long, even though I had left out some important information. I’d have to reshoot it. The thing puzzling me, though, was this:

How could I make a shorter video while giving my audience more information?

Kristen and I came up with a simple strategy. I divided all my information into talking points. Some of those talking points seemed like they should come from my mouth: the book’s main idea, the philosophy behind it, the story of my eighteen years as a bookseller and my understanding of what a crucial job the sales rep has in the selling of a book. Those I filmed, and are in the video below.

Other points, like who’s in my network and how I plan on supporting the book, were important, but didn’t seem like they needed to come directly from me. Kristen, we decided, would talk about those points live at the conference.

Our solution wasn’t a complicated one, but it did the trick. We took a video with too much information, and made it more palatable by breaking its points into recorded and live moments. An optical illusion of sorts.

Take a look. Perhaps my video or performance skills aren’t what they should be yet, but the idea is still valid: Don’t think you’re stuck with one or two ways of delivering information to your audience. Try a different angle. Graft together uncommon styles. You may be surprised at the result.

By the way, near the end of the video you’ll hear me say, “I told you I’m a magician,” and then I perform a small trick. Unfortunately, I had edited out an earlier part of the video where I discussed my background as a magician and professional illusion inventor. Kristen told me not to sweat it. She’d add that to her talking points during the live session.

Do You Take the Credit You Deserve?

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I teach consultants how to write case studies. As part of that work, I ask that they describe the results of their projects. Here’s where many consultants hesitate. Why?

One group can’t talk, because they’re under non-disclosure agreements.

A second group doesn’t know the results. They do their piece, and don’t check back to see how the project as a whole progressed.

Then, there’s a third group.

The consultants in this group know the results of their work, but they don’t want to talk about them for a simple reason:

They think that to claim even partial credit for a project’s success means that they needed to be its main player. In other words, if they didn’t create the project, set its strategy, and handle its implementation, they pull back on parading their role. They feel they had to do it all.

Here’s what they’re missing, and what I’d like you to always remember:

You can be an important player on a project without having complete control over its outcome. Your contribution can still be crucial, even when you’re surrounded by a team of crucial contributors.

Talking about this idea reminds me of one consultant I worked with. For an hour I asked him to talk about the results of his projects. He hemmed and hawed. I kept pushing. Finally, when he saw I wouldn’t back down he told me something crazy:

A major technology company had hired him, because their product development team was stuck. The team’s direction had grown fuzzy. Teammates were fighting each other.

Through a few group sessions, this consultant helped the team right itself. They clarified their roles, came to agreements, set goals, and got moving again.

Months later, the team came up with a new product. I won’t name this product, but believe me, you know it. 75% of you reading this post own it. Time Magazine called it one of the three most innovative products of the year. The product has made the company billions of dollars, helped its stock price soar, and brought it wild market share .

Yet this consultant didn’t want to speak about it.

He said, “I didn’t invent, design, manufacture, or market the product. I didn’t have any direct hand in it. My client did all that.”

“Yes,” I said, “but without your contribution none of that may have happened. Or, if it did happen, it might have taken longer and cost the client a ton of money in lost sales.”

How, then, would you ethically handle such a situation? How do you take credit for your contribution, without grabbing too much of the limelight?

Here’s what I suggest: When writing about your own success stories, once you’ve explained your involvement in a project and are ready to talk about results, say the following:

“Due in part to my efforts, here’s what happened . . . “

Then, talk about revenues raised, costs cut, buzz created, and all the other results the organization enjoyed.

By using the phrase, “Due in part to my efforts” you’re letting listeners know that you’re not claiming credit for the whole initiative. You’re just rightfully taking credit for a piece of the whole. It’s a communications technique — and business philosophy — that you, your clients, and your prospects will appreciate.

What's the Big Idea?

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Here’s a technique for clear communication that I teach writers. I first read about it in Edward Bailey’s “Plain English Approach to Business Writing.”

If you’re writing an email or an essay or whatever, and you have an opinion to express, a recommendation to make, or a request of the reader, put it right up front and use the rest of the piece to explain it. Why?

Readers want to know how a piece of writing relates to them. If you don’t tell them right away — in the first paragraph or two or three — they’ll scan what you’ve written to find it. Make sense?

If I sent you an email that began, “How are you? I was in Manhattan the other day, eating at a Mexican place in the theater district, and I saw a friend I hadn’t seen in twenty years. His name is Jake, and he’s a lawyer. So we started talking about old times, and something he said triggered a memory from when we were in high school . . .,” you’d probably grow antsy.

If I kept my narrative going, you’d start skipping and looking for how this story relates to you. When you found how it related to you, you’d relax (“Ah, Mark found a potential client for me, and wants to set up a meeting”).

Often, writers are scared to say what they need to say up front, because they think the reader will make an instant judgment, and then won’t read the justification that follows. Really, though, if the writer doesn’t tell the reader how a piece relates to them right off, the reader will skip the writer’s carefully forged prose anyway, until they found what’s being asked of them.

In my writing, I use this “put what you have to say up front” technique much of the time. Sometimes, though, I forget to start my draft with it and, instead, add it later. An example: when I wrote my “Fascination Factor” proposal for Change This.

I was reading over what I thought to be the finished proposal when I realized it wasn’t working. Too much build up. I hadn’t gotten to “the big idea” quickly enough. Readers would have to wade through 250 words before they knew what my manifesto would teach them. Rather than rewriting the whole thing, I added this paragraph to the beginning:

“My proposed manifesto, ‘The Fascination Factor,’ teaches businesspeople how to write books and other thought leadership pieces that are uniquely their own and of considerable value to readers.”

Boom! Once people understood what it was they were about to read and how it could help them, then they could settle down and see if the rest of the proposal substantiated or detracted from my claim.

Don’t think you need to begin all your communications with your main point. No need to be robotic.

But put yourself in your reader’s shoes. Look over your last piece of writing, and ask yourself, “Where do I make my main point? Where does the reader learn why he or she is reading what I wrote?” If you didn’t get to your big idea in the first few paragraphs, think about how the piece might change if you did.

"Age of Conversation 3"

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“Age of Conversation 3” will soon be released, and I’m honored to be one its 170 or so contributing authors.

Each of us has written a chapter on how social media has changed the world’s business practices. The chapters have been grouped into sections, including “Innovation and Execution,” “Measurement,” and “Conversational Branding.”

I call my chapter, “A Fast, True Way for Creating Content.” The idea behind it is this: Yes, we want to be part of the conversation and, yes, we want to be thought leaders. But sometimes we just get stuck and don’t know what to write. I share a simple method I’ve used for years that helps me create content even when I’m under the gun.

Below, you’ll see a list of contributors with links to their sites or blogs, so you can get to know them. I see old friends, like Nettie Hartsock and Tom Clifford, and new ones like Toby Bloomberg. I’m excited to meet everybody.

By the way, Drew McLellan and Gavin Heaton expertly co-edited the book, and Gretel Going and Kate Fleming (who were contributors to “Age of Conversation 2”) of Channel V Books are generously publishing it.

The profits from the sale of the book are being donated to the Make-a-Wish Foundation.

Adam Joseph Priyanka Sachar Mark Earls
Cory Coley-Christakos Stefan Erschwendner Paul Hebert
Jeff De Cagna Thomas Clifford Phil Gerbyshak
Jon Burg Toby Bloomberg Shambhu Neil Vineberg
Joseph Jaffe Uwe Hook Steve Roesler
Michael E. Rubin anibal casso Steve Woodruff
Steve Sponder Becky Carroll Tim Tyler
Chris Wilson Beth Harte Tinu Abayomi-Paul
Dan Schawbel Carol Bodensteiner Trey Pennington
David Weinfeld Dan Sitter Vanessa DiMauro
Ed Brenegar David Zinger Brett T. T. Macfarlane
Efrain Mendicuti Deb Brown Brian Reich
Gaurav Mishra Dennis Deery C.B. Whittemore
Gordon Whitehead Heather Rast Cam Beck
Hajj E. Flemings Joan Endicott Cathryn Hrudicka
Jeroen Verkroost Karen D. Swim Christopher Morris
Joe Pulizzi Leah Otto Corentin Monot
Karalee Evans Leigh Durst David Berkowitz
Kevin Jessop Lesley Lambert Duane Brown
Peter Korchnak Mark Price Dustin Jacobsen
Piet Wulleman Mike Maddaloni Ernie Mosteller
Scott Townsend Nick Burcher Frank Stiefler
Steve Olenski Rich Nadworny John Rosen
Tim Jackson Suzanne Hull Len Kendall
Amber Naslund Wayne Buckhanan Mark McGuinness
Caroline Melberg Andy Drish Oleksandr Skorokhod
Claire Grinton Angela Maiers Paul Williams
Gary Cohen Armando Alves Sam Ismail
Gautam Ramdurai B.J. Smith Tamera Kremer
Eaon Pritchard Brendan Tripp Adelino de Almeida
Jacob Morgan Casey Hibbard Andy Hunter
Julian Cole Debra Helwig Anjali Ramachandran
Jye Smith Drew McLellan Craig Wilson
Karin Hermans Emily Reed David Petherick
Katie Harris Gavin Heaton Dennis Price
Mark Levy George Jenkins Doug Mitchell
Mark W. Schaefer Helge Tenno Douglas Hanna
Marshall Sponder James Stevens Ian Lurie
Ryan Hanser Jenny Meade Jeff Larche
Sacha Tueni and Katherine Maher David Svet Jessica Hagy
Simon Payn Joanne Austin-Olsen Mark Avnet
Stanley Johnson Marilyn Pratt Mark Hancock
Steve Kellogg Michelle Beckham-Corbin Michelle Chmielewski
Amy Mengel Veronique Rabuteau Peter Komendowski
Andrea Vascellari Timothy L Johnson Phil Osborne
Beth Wampler Amy Jussel Rick Liebling
Eric Brody Arun Rajagopal Dr Letitia Wright
Hugh de Winton David Koopmans Aki Spicer
Jeff Wallace Don Frederiksen Charles Sipe
Katie McIntyre James G Lindberg & Sandra Renshaw David Reich
Lynae Johnson Jasmin Tragas Deborah Chaddock Brown
Mike O’Toole Jeanne Dininni Iqbal Mohammed
Morriss M. Partee Katie Chatfield Jeff Cutler
Pete Jones Riku Vassinen Jeff Garrison
Kevin Dugan Tiphereth Gloria Mike Sansone
Lori Magno Valerie Simon Nettie Hartsock
Mark Goren Peter Salvitti

Using Internal Documents to Win Business

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When the original edition of “Accidental Genius” hit the market ten years ago, one of the first readers to contact me was Andy Orrock.

Andy told me he would get his best ideas during his daily run. Unfortunately, when he’d return home to write them down he’d be disappointed. “It’s as if a filter got between me and what I wanted to say,” he said. His writing sounded stiff and artificial, and it was hurting his career. The business plans he’d send investors went unread.

Using the “Accidental Genius” freewriting technique, as well as other associated techniques, Andy learned to trust the natural ways his mind used to develop and express thoughts. Slowly, his written ideas started matching the honesty of those in his head.

Andy, however, has pushed the concept of honest expression further than most.

He is now the chief operating officer at a Dallas technology company. There, the salespeople don’t try winning business by sending prospects glossy marketing materials. Everyone knows those are fake. Instead, the salespeople send prospects internal documents — written by Andy — that have been repurposed for public use.

Here’s how it works.

At the start of a client project, Andy writes a detail-rich requirements document that spells out the client’s problem and the steps needed to crack it. The document serves as an internal blueprint around which his firm’s development team can plan their systems and programming work. When the project is finished, the document gets filed.

Now, when a prospect calls and wants to better understand the capabilities of Andy’s firm, Andy digs through the files and finds the requirements document that most resembles the prospect’s situation, crosses out and disguises sensitive information, such as developer and server names, and emails them this “redacted document” as proof that his company knows what it’s doing and has solved this kind of problem before.

Says Andy: “Our documents show prospects 90% of the answer, and  demonstrate that we have a mastery of the details. For the first time, prospects feel like they’ve reached a firm that understands what they’re facing.”

The candor of his writing and approach has become a potent sales-conversion tool for his firm.

My question for you, then, is this: What assets do you have that can supplement or replace your marketing materials, so prospects can get an unadorned view of how you think and solve problems?

The Secret to Doing Pushups is the Secret to Writing a Book

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When I was in college I had this notion that being able to fire off dozens of pushups would mean I was a powerhouse. At the time, I could only do a couple of reps.

I asked a friend if he knew easier exercises I could substitute for pushups that — at the same time — would strengthen my ability to do pushups.

He looked at me like I was nuts, and said: “The way to get better at doing pushups is by doing pushups.”

At the time, I didn’t appreciate his advice. Now I do.

I’ve since worked at pushups, and can now do hundreds in a single session. I can even do demanding variations, like clapping pushups and knuckle pushups. How did I accomplish these feats? Not through alternate training methods. Awkwardly and incrementally, I simply did more pushups.

Learning by doing — or, perhaps, doing by doing — doesn’t just work for pushups. It can help in other situations, like when you want to write a book.

A person will tell me they want to write a book, and I’ll ask, so what are you doing about it? They’ll tell me they’ve been writing stories, plays, essays, and poems. They’ll boast about having kept a journal for years.

They think these shorter literary forms ease them into the writing of a full-length book. Could be. Trying different forms stretches the mind, and gives one more tools to use. But if they never get around to tackling their book, these forms serve more as a clever means of procrastination.

If you want to write a novel, write a novel. If you want to write a screenplay, write a screenplay. If you want to write a one-person show, write a one-person show. If you want to write a history of international banking, write a history of international banking.

By writing the thing you want to write, you’ll learn how to do it. You’ll learn as you go.

Now, I’m not saying that what you write will be good, or  that writing it will be easy. At times, you’re going to feel self-conscious, stupid, and angry.

But, for you, writing a book is likely a necessity. It’s something, ready or not, you must do.

Learn on this one. The next one will be better.