I’m one of those people who’s had dozens of jobs over the years: waiter, typesetter, yoga teacher, art instructor, ESL teacher, fundraiser, magazine editor, bartender—often doing a few of those at the same time.

And as scattered as it was living that way, it was convenient to staying small. After all, it’s hard to get too big (or too focused or to complete anything) when you have to be at another gig in 15 minutes.

But no matter what I was doing, I always found myself writing: scribbling business plans for customers on napkins and jotting down taglines between wiping tables or driving to school or making cold calls.

Circling like a nervous hawk around what I loved, but never quite landing.

Then I started getting jobs that got me closer. When I was hired as an editor at an outdoor magazine in Boston, I hung out with an amazing group of writers and editors and we traveled, won some awards, and had a lot of fun producing a publication that meant something. My favorite part was writing feature stories about people and hearing them say things like, “I can’t believe you made sense of that garble that came out of my mouth.” I loved creating clarity out of ideas that felt jumbled. 

But something was still missing. And so off I went searching for the right path in all the wrong places. I hitched my wagon to way too many other people’s stars, and found myself selling everything I owned and moving out West. I thought I came here for love but ended up on a decade long spiritual and entrepreneurial quest I had no intention of taking. And got that I alone had the key.

Along the way I hung out my shingle as a writer. Today, I work mostly with solopreneurs, coaches, and healers business owners who generally have a few things going on: You’ve been in business for a while, are very good at what you do, and have something very potent and juicy to share.

There’s a book you know you are meant to write. And you’re your own worst enemy.

While part of you is raring to go, you’re also mired in resistance and struggling to stay on the trail. I so get it.

I will never tell you it is easy to write or that you can write a book in a weekend. Most people want to “have written” a book—they don’t want to actually write the book. It takes a mastery of energy like nothing else to stick with a thought, trust your ideas, and keep up the momentum.

But when you get clear on what you’re really here to say and have a map in hand of just where to go, it gets a whole lot easier to pull that idea from the metaphysical down into the physical.

And to be who you were destined to be. The author of that beautiful, memorable, world-changing book.