Grace Hopper was one of the first female admirals in the Navy and was known as a genius. After completing her doctorate at Yale in 1934, she had a flourishing career in the military and became a legend in the field of computer programming.
Admiral Hopper wouldn’t have intimidated you at first glance. She was only six feet tall, with wispy white hair and a husky, soft voice. Yet she was a strict manager and not afraid to shake things up. She said: ‘People are allergic to change. They like to say, “We’ve always done it this way.” I try to combat that. That’s why I have a clock on my wall that runs counterclockwise.”
She also popularized one of history’s most abused quotes: “It’s easier to ask forgiveness than to get permission.” Her message was less about cheating on a spouse and more about encouraging employees to strive for autonomy.
Her problem was that the government and the military sector can stick to the rules – and wrongly so. She didn’t want employees to wait for anyone’s approval before testing their skills, innovating, and trying to learn. Her approach is one that I ultimately embraced, but not without some initial heartburn.
My own journey forward
15 years ago I visited the Little Club, a small dive bar in Coronado, California. It was dimly lit, with weathered leather stools lining the long bar and two pool tables in the back.
Many colorful and boisterous visitors visited this watering hole. Eventually I met a retired writer and journalist, David, a short man with silver hair and dark-rimmed glasses, whose wife was often with him, sipping margaritas. They always sat in the same corner spot and over time we became friends. I was a big reader at the time and flirted with the idea of becoming an author.
Finally I told David my ambition. And from then on, every time I saw him he immediately asked, “Have you been writing lately?”
My answer was always, “No.” Or I would come up with some lame excuse about how I was thinking of a story or had a great idea. David finally got frustrated and asked, “Why are you talking about writing?” Are you going to write or not?”
A year later I walked into the bar and realized I hadn’t seen him in a while. I asked our bartender, “Have you seen David?” The bartender grimaced and said, “He died of a heart attack a few months ago, I thought you heard.” Sorry.”
15 years have passed
I am now a full-time writer and have been writing for seven years. I wish Dave was here today. I would have happily sent him my stuff and hoped he would be proud of me – although I’m sure he would tear some of my pieces to shreds with good intentions.
But it’s interesting to look back on our conversations, not only as writers, but as mentors to other aspiring writers. I now understand his frustration on so many levels. If you can see through a new venture to the other side, you want to wave people goodbye. You want to scream, ‘Just do it! Come this way. You’ll love it!” You know they are capable and talented, but they can’t see through to the other side yet. They do everything except that first step.
For example, on my website I answer writing questions from aspiring writers. The questions often repeat themselves along these three vectors:
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“How do you get motivated to write?”
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“How do you think about “what” to write?
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“Where do you get writing ideas from?”
Many people asking these questions haven’t written much yet. They are busy staring at the obstacles instead of jumping over them. I get it. I’ve been there. My breakthrough came after I vowed, “You know what, I’m going to stop telling people I want to write until I actually write something.”
Talking about writing had become a rickety and unwarranted stool. In fact, research has shown that announcing your goals decreases your chances of achieving them. It creates a false sense of progress that undermines your motivation.
A few years after David died, I was bored and going through some life changes. I realized that I didn’t need anyone’s approval or validation to start writing. I said, ‘Fuck it. I’m just going to write something, and I don’t care if everyone hates it.
Once I sat down Actually As I wrote, I realized it wasn’t all that bad. The fear of failure, and especially thinking about how hard writing was, or how few ideas I had, was the hardest part.
It was so easy to sit down and compare my nothingburger of concepts to authors who already had a list of great books. If online writing had been a thing back then, I’m sure I would have compared myself to people with an established following and driven myself completely crazy.
When I was working in finance, a mentor said to me, “A big problem is made up of a lot of small problems together.” If you take something apart and isolate the smaller parts, it becomes an easy puzzle to solve. This is the approach I took to writing.
I just started answering questions on Quora. I have written short answers. That led to writing longer answers, which led to writing articles, which led to ghostwriting, which led to ghostwriting books. If your goal is to write fiction, you can start by writing a one-page story. Then make it two. Then keep expanding it. Or focus on writing a scene that conveys fear, or a scene that shows character motives.
Remember that you can drive yourself crazy by comparing yourself to others. And comparison easily destroys all happiness and motivation.
Ultimately, I realized that ideas don’t miraculously fall from the sky. Articles and books are not written with a single skill. You just apply a layer every day. As William Faulkner wrote, “I write only when I am inspired. Fortunately, I am inspired every morning at 9 o’clock.”
There’s something magical about sitting at this keyboard with a blank draft screen and letting your fingers fly. I have met and known many creative people. The term “creative type” is a bit of a misnomer. Most creatives I’ve known just kept practicing being creative. I know plenty of writers who are much more talented than me and who didn’t stick with writing and so nothing came of it.
I will always bet on the person who has the courage to try something, anything, every day, and takes the time to reflect and learn every week. And remember: you don’t need anyone’s permission to get started. But you have to start.
Start small and build from there. Try to add new skills every week.