What I learned from writing my own book

TRUST the signs

When a third friend in a row mentioned in spring 2019 that I should write a book or that I’ll be a writer, I actually gave it a thought.

I’d always enjoyed writing but hadn’t ever been involved in a major writing project past my postgraduate course. I knew my creativity was going to find an outlet, sooner or later, after years of scaling a business with my logical mind taking the foreground.

I was ready to come back to my roots as a deeply creative person, beyond the hustler/business person identity I’d created because it was useful to get a few things done. And then there was the guided psychedelic trip the year before where I painted all over myself and marveled open-mouthed at endless possibilities of what I could create (I was literally ready to go out and paint all over the streets!). It felt like a prophecy for the next period of my life. But writing? It wouldn’t have been my first choice as an ex-burlesque diva, singer, and performer. 

And then, because signs kept coming up, after lunch with a friend who told me point blanc that I should write about feminism and business, I opened my laptop and gave it a go, as if it were a game. Sections and chapters kept pouring out, during breaks from work, anytime I could afford to take time away to do some writing, and two months later I had forty thousand words.

Have The right balance between enthusiasm and pragmatism 

I was super chuffed. I more or less had a book finished. Except I wasn’t sure if anyone would want to read it. I shared what I had with a couple of friends and some positive and neutral comments came back, mostly to do with passion behind my writing, but also some confusion to do with what my message was.

Truthfully, I’ve written about all sorts of things, from my reflections on how workplaces are evolving, based on my company’s journey with the culture of transparency, to very personal stories to do with relationships, my recent interests in tantra, shamanism, and conscious sexuality. It soon became clear I needed to get really specific on what I actually wanted and felt competent to put out into the world, and who might care about it. 

Admittedly, as my business brain kicked in, my enthusiasm crashed quite a bit. But while it felt brutal, it was also helpful. A friend made a comment there was material for several books in what I’d written and I knew she was right. This meant I needed to decide what topic I actually wanted to focus on and get rid of content that didn’t fit in.

After a little soul searching with another friend, I knew my topic was the feminine aspect – or principle of leadership – rising in forward-thinking organisations, and any new content I produced needed to be, even if loosely, related to it.

It definitely put a limit on my creative freedom. For example, I no longer woke up and randomly wrote about the nature of shame because I felt shame that morning to do with something that happened the day before. At the same time, I had a much stronger sense of purpose and wanting to serve others with my writing as opposed to just express myself. 

Have patience 

Suddenly, I started thinking more carefully about what I would write and how it was to form a part of a bigger whole. I became aware of other books on related subjects and why they resonated with their audiences. My task was to find my unique take on things knowing there is no such thing as saying something which has never been said before. I also got rid of about a third of content I “vomited out” in my enthusiastic phase and started editing what I’d written before. This felt nowhere near as good as starting out and just producing fresh content every day. 

Judgements and critical thinking kicked in. I now had a different perspective on what I wanted to write and a lot of things that seemed inspired before now sounded foolish. Plus the editing process, so much less creative, definitely clipped my wings. Everything slowed down as judgements multiplied. In the enthusiastic phase, I’d planned to have the book ready in 3 months. Now I knew this was far from realistic given my business mind wasn’t going to release anything that didn’t meet its high standards. Was what I wanted to say worth saying after all?

Attending Hayhouse’s Writers Workshop helped me to hone in on the bigger purpose of writing, as a developmental and spiritual practice. But it also made it clear to me how many others were somewhere in the process of writing books. Who was I to believe mine would be substantially better?

The whole prospect of going through the self-publishing process or finding a publisher started to seem daunting. I knew I needed to take a step back and just breathe plus experience all the feelings arising in connection to my writing project, with as little judgement as possible. Things were going to run their own course and it wasn’t my place to apply force and push things along with willpower alone. 

Surrender to the process

Somebody said, “be careful what you choose to write about”.

My subject matter – leadership from the feminine principle – truly took me for a ride in terms of facing and challenging my old thinking patterns. I hustled a lot in my business career to date and it was the masculine, driven and action-oriented part of me that was responsible for much of my past success.

The time came to really take a perspective on whether this was the only way for me to birth something meaningful into the world. Perhaps I was too afraid to try a different approach, to loosen my grip of control on the process?

A lot of fear certainly showed up and it gave me a deeper insight into why we’re stuck in old paradigms as a civilisation. It’s so difficult to trust life, to allow things to unfold following the energy that’s already present somewhere (particularly if it’s uncomfortable) instead of trying to force something else. This took me to a new layer in how I relate to my subject. Creativity emerged again but this time seemingly from a deeper place of wanting to share something definitely worth sharing. 

And with it, confidence in my writing surfaced again. I knew I had a unique voice that could serve a wider purpose. I knew I had an experience that is relevant and puts me in a very good position to say what I want to say. And also, I really developed my ability to trust the process - the creative process, and a wider birthing process of bringing something new into the world. I had intentions for the book but I didn’t have expectations. I wasn’t rigid in how I related to it anymore. If it could serve people and the emergence of a new paradigm, it would see the light of day. When and how exactly, I didn’t need to know. In the meantime, I would flow with the energy that was present in me in connection to this work, with lightness and gratitude it chose me as its “mother”. 

Asking for help is human and powerful

I spent a lot of my career, particularly at the beginning, “faking” to make it. I gatecrashed business functions I wasn’t supposed to be at and chatted up the most senior people in the room. I was resolute and confident wherever I ended up. 

There’s even a video with me tagged as “chairwoman” of my own business (which wasn’t even a year old at a time!) lurking somewhere on the web. I put my best foot forward, dressed in the best business clothes I had, and did what needed to be done to get those first clients in the door, even though we had no known brand, existing reputation, or even good case studies back then. 

Now that I “made it”, I’m tired of “faking” anything. I actually really believe in being transparent publicly on where I’m at, darkness included, also as a duty to all those who are at earlier stages of their career and perhaps dream of achieving what I have done. The road to success – and often the price of it – really isn’t all unicorns shitting rainbows (🦄 💩 🌈 ) and it feels very important to me to talk about things not many people talk about with transparency and humility. (On that note, watch out for the #HumiliTea video series on my YouTube channel, all about the dark side of entrepreneurship.)

In line with this I believe in being honest that even though I’m successful in business, I’m far from having instant access to everything that I need. As long as I’m human, I’m not likely to ever be entirely self-sufficient. And I’m also likely to doubt myself, which is actually healthy, as long as self-compassion doesn’t go out of the window. During the writing process, when doubts kicked in, I reached out to friends for sanity checks and reassurance multiple times. At one stage I invited quite a few people to the google doc with the bulk of the writing to get comments and contributions. I’m really grateful to those that actually had a look and commented on things they fell strongly about, given all the other things they could have been doing with their time. I feel humbled to be surrounded by friends who genuinely care about what I create. 

In moments of particularly strong doubt about the whole project, I reached out to the friend who inspired me to start writing to begin with and remains a fan of more or less everything I write. It’s priceless to have people in my life that truly believe in what I do. Realising who they are has quite possibly been the biggest gift I have received through this process so far. Also, quite a few people have stepped up to help me improve on my book proposal and to connect with agents and publishers.

Asking for help puts me in touch with the humility and vulnerability which comes with being a human interconnected with other humans, resources, and nature. I cannot survive on my own. And when I receive what I asked for, I remember that I am loved and that this is what matters most. When I don’t receive exactly what I asked for, it makes me question whether that’s what I really need, or if it’s just something that I want at this moment. It opens up the possibility that there’s a bigger and better plan I can access if I’m not overly attached to what I think should happen next. 

Receiving also makes me aware of all the resources I currently have, in abundance, that may be precious to others. I start being more mindful of people and situations where my help, expertise, and cash can be put to very good use in line with something that I believe in. Is there a part of me that would like to look “all sorted out” in front of others? There sure is! But I don’t listen to that voice anymore. I don’t think it helps me or makes the world better in any way when I act according to what it says. 

I wish all those in the middle of creative efforts of all sorts that the process of birthing something new transforms you from the inside out. I wish us all to receive unexpected gifts from it as I’ve already experienced. And to never lose sight it’s a privilege and a damn awesome thing just to be able to bring something new - a book, a song, a project, a human baby - to life. 

Laid bare: what the business leader learnt from the stripper

If you’d like to read a copy of my book – Laid Bare – you can pre-order it on Amazon.