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Today I want to celebrate someone who has been a source of inspiration for me in the past year or so.

She’s a novelist who writes historical fiction, and is currently finishing up a manuscript that she will pitch to agents. She’s actually a client of mine too, I’ve been helping her get creative clarity in her work, develop her platform, and turn her writing hobby into a writing career.

So, this is her, Alison Taylor-Brown:

A year ago she did something astounding. After living in Arkansas pretty much her entire life, she picked up and moved to Italy. But she didn’t do it alone. She brought along her 90 year old mother who is legally blind and has severe hearing loss, as well as her 2 year old dog Prose.

Can you just imagine making such a big transition, and doing so with these two characters? Here they are at the airport:

And in case you are wondering, no, Alison does not speak Italian fluently (although she is learning). So why did she make this transition? For the reasons that any writer would love:

• To conduct primary research on her historical novel.
• To be surrounded by the history she loves.
• To experience and become a part of a different culture.

How did all of this happen? Amidst some big life changes and deep reasons. This is how Alison has characterized the last year of her life:

I really didn’t know if it would be a new life, a great adventure, or a total fiasco. In many ways, I still don’t.

Symbolically, we left Arkansas on September 19, 2018, my grandmother’s birthday. On the surface, my grandmother was a homebody whose greatest pleasure was going for walks in her beloved Ozarks, strolling around her yard and garden, or reading any book within reach. But she also loved to travel, and I am so happy that I was able to take her all over New England, a little of Canada, and even New York City. And it was there in 1984 that she made a statement that defines my desire to live in Italy.

As we were driving in NYC, the apartments looked pretty old and there was laundry hanging outside the windows (so Italian). Suddenly my grandmother said, “I’d like to move here and live like these people.”

My ever-so-literal mother was also in the car, and she said, “Surely not. Why on earth would you say that? Look how dirty it is and crowded and unsafe.”

Now we all knew that my grandmother wouldn’t leave her beloved home in the mountains and her daughters who lived nearby. But she said, “Because I’d like to live a totally different life just to see what it’s like. To figure out how to get by in a whole other world.”

I have thought of that so much because that is exactly what brought me—and keeps me—in Italy. The moments when I feel the cultural difference most acutely is when I am most enchanted. I’ve always loved jigsaw puzzles, and now I am the odd piece, constantly trying to figure out how to fit myself into the bigger picture of my Tuscan village.

People who make a big move are running away or seeking something or probably both. I left the U.S. months after my father’s supposed suicide and my husband’s revelation, after thirty-three years together, that he wanted a divorce. Not to mention the death of my very good dog Traveler.

Certainly my feelings have evolved in the last year. When we came, I brought four suitcases in total for myself, my mom, and Prose (who is a very material girl). One of those suitcases was full of research for the novel I’m writing.

I brought nothing sentimental except Traveler’s ashes. I wanted no reminders of the past, no loose ends of pain. I wanted a clean page for my new chapter, my new life, the new me.

When I returned to Arkansas six months later for a whirlwind ten days of appointments and tasks, I had a half year under my belt of learning new ways to do things, of figuring out challenges, of thinking about more than how the men I loved betrayed me. Now, coming back to Arkansas was almost like lifting up the bandage very carefully to see how the healing was progressing.

I discovered that I was ready to begin to join the fragmented pieces of myself back together. This time, when I boxed up my complete historical research library to bring to Italy, I allowed myself one box, maximum 70 pounds, for anything I wanted. I put in all Traveler’s little sweaters, hoping Prose could wear them. I put in some mementos of good moments with old friends. I put in pictures of my grandparents and dad. I tore all the written pages out of a lifetime of unfinished journals and brought the pages.

I felt as if I were gluing myself back together, forging the new me and the old me into one stronger person.

Sometimes, I am filled with wonder. Who is this woman who can find her way around foreign cities with no help, who can usually make herself understood in pidgin Italian, who has lost 30 pounds? I don’t know her. Other times, I find I’m still the same insecure, easily embarrassed nerd I always was. The truth is, of course, I am all those things. It just depends on which side of myself I want to turn toward the light.

For years, I abdicated as much responsibility as I could because it was easier. It was easier to let my husband manage the finances or figure out the TV remote. When we traveled, it was easier to let him drive the rental car, read the walking map, convert kilometers to miles. I chose helplessness because it was so easy.

Now, I choose strength. I choose to turn that side of myself to the light. I can convert gallons to liters, euros to dollars, miles to kilometers and know how much it costs to drive a hundred miles. And then, I can drive it. I choose to be the person who can do the thing—whatever it might be—that needs to be done.

What is true for me is, of course, true for us all. If I know anything, I know that I am not special. “You’re so brave,” people say. “You’re so strong.” That is simply not true. I just try not to talk myself out of things because I know that any situation can be faced with this simple procedure: Show up. Take the next step. Solve today’s problem.

You really don’t have to have it all figured out ahead of time. You can’t anyway. I had no idea how I would feel living in Italy. Maybe I would hate it. How could I know? But I did know this: nothing has to be permanent.

So, here I am, a year in. Who knows where we’ll be in another year. Maybe right here. Maybe not. I’m figuring it out as I go. Aren’t we all? But one thing I know. We all have a strong side. And that should be the one that we turn toward the light.

This is Alison and her mom — two women who spent a lifetime in Arkansas — enjoying the daily life of living in Italy:

I want to thank Alison for inspiring me so much in this past year, and for allowing me to share her writing in this post.

So many of the writers I work with each day in my Creative Shift Mastermind and outside of it are focused on making their creative work more central to their daily life. When I consider all that Alison has done, it seems symbolic of the many little things that each of us can do each day to immerse ourselves in our creative work. To choose to live the life of a writer.

Could Alison have rejected the idea of moving to Italy because she owned a house and a lifetime of possessions? Sure. Or because she couldn’t possibly bring her mother? Sure. Or her dog? Sure. Or because she didn’t speak the language? Sure. Because of the mountains of paperwork that would no doubt be a part of it all? Sure.

But none of that stopped Alison. Instead, she has taken a journey filled with new experiences, friendships, and creativity.

You don’t need to move to Italy to live your own version of a writer’s life. But is there one action you can take that would nourish your writing?

I also want to encourage you to follow her journey:
Her newsletter
Facebook
Twitter

Wait, what? You want a picture of Prose too? Okay, here she is with Alison’s mom on the train to Pisa:

I’m almost certain that even though Prose lives a cosmopolitan life in Italy, she barks with a thick Arkansas accent.

-Dan

What is the best way to support a writer whose books you love? Take two simple, free, and generous actions:

Action #1: Post a Review

The first is to leave a review for their book at online retailers. Especially Amazon. This is a step that many people miss. They buy a book or take it out of the library. They read it. They love it. Then, they go silent.

Posting a public review of an author’s book does so many wonderful things:

1. Reviewing a book makes an author’s day. Think about the difference this makes: an author wakes up on a random Tuesday. Maybe it’s raining, maybe they are supposed to go to the gym, but don’t want to. They are stressed about something. But then they realize that someone left a note online saying that they LOVED that author’s book, and why. Just consider how that changes their day.
2. Reviewing a book becomes social proof at the point of sale. This is a big one. Not only does that review make an author’s day, it means that when a reader looks at that book online and considers buying it, they can hear what others loved about it and why. That is social proof, meaning that it gives a potential reader the perspective of other readers, not just a book description. Social proof is a powerful driver of sales. This is not just some function of “online retailing” either. When you go into an independent bookstore, they will likely have “shelf talkers” under books that the staff recommends. These are often just little cards that are explaining why a certain employee loves that book. It will often have that employee’s name, and maybe even their photo. Consider if you are an author and you walk into a bookstore and find a shelf talker under your book. Wouldn’t that make your day? Well, you have the power to do that online for author’s you love.
3. Reviewing a book nourishes your own recognition of how books effects you. When I leave a review, I need to consider the short “title” of the review, the simple encapsulation of why I like the book. I have to explain why I liked it. In doing so, I find it deepens my appreciation for the book. It also helps me better communicate my appreciation for the book when I talk to other people.

One thing I didn’t mention above is the mythical “Amazon algorithm.” Does leaving a review likely help promote that book in Amazon’s algorithm, thereby maybe displaying it to more customers? Um, probably. But that’s not why I suggest leaving reviews. I suggest it because it is a human way to appreciate and support books, readers, and authors.

I have always considered a work of art to be complete when it reaches another human being. What I love about book reviews is that you see the myriad of ways that the same book can effect people in different ways. Each reader brings their own story to the book at hand.

Action #2: Email the Author

Now, I want you to write an email to an author whose book you enjoyed. You can usually find an email address or contact box on the author’s website. Do a simple Google search for their name to find their website, then go to the “contact” page.

Your email can be short and simple. It should simply express your thanks and appreciation. If you are willing, explain to them why you liked the book, what it stirred in you.

Then, click ‘send’ and move on with your day.

I have suggested again and again that people in my Creative Shift Mastermind do this. When they take this action the results are often extraordinary. They report back, “The author wrote back!!! They said that I made their day!”

Readers often resist emailing an author with notes of appreciation. They justify that the author is simply too busy, or perhaps too successful, to want to receive notes like this.

I find the opposite to be true.

What is your favorite author doing today, a random Friday, where they wouldn’t want to hear that a reader loved one of their books? I mean, isn’t that what you would want as an author? Not to hear about some metric that you don’t understand, but to hear that your creative work truly touched someone’s life?

The other day, a friend told me he got 20 pages in to a book and he liked it so much that he emailed the author to tell them so. His email said something like, “I’m only 20 pages into your book and it is already changing the way I approach my work. I can’t wait to read the other 280 pages. Thank you.”

It’s worth mentioning that the book is from a very well-known and successful non-fiction author. The kind of person who gets paid tens of thousands of dollars for a 1-hour speaking event.

Within 12 hours, that author wrote back. They expressed their appreciation, and then said, “When you finish the book, if you would like to have coffee and discuss it, let me know if you will be in ____ city. I’d be happy to meet up.”

Incredible, right?!

These two simple actions: leaving a review and emailing the author are actions that any of us can take. And they only add depth to our experience as a reader and to the lives of the author.

If you could leave a review for just one book this week, and email one author, who would it be? Write back and let me know.

Thanks!
-Dan

This week, I bought another vintage typewriter. But this one came with a story of a writer.

The typewriter is a 1959 Hermes 3000, made in Switzerland:

In 2014, the owner had it serviced, a receipt came with it that had their name on it. The name was that of a woman, someone different from who I purchased the typewriter from.

I got curious. I Googled her name.

It turns out, this typewriter belonged to author Louise W. King, who published three books in the 1960s, at least one of which she must have typed using this typewriter. She passed away in 2016. This is her, one photo from years ago, and another from later in life:

Here are the book covers:

Her books are no longer published, but if you dig around on eBay, you can find a well-worn copy or two.

What does remain is her story.

In reading her obituary, I was taken aback at how her life was filled with the arts. She wrote articles and other books in the 1970s, and then in the 1980s until her passing, focused on sculpture. A particular focus were these clay horses, of which she made up to 100 each year:

A year before she passed away, she was still submitting her sculptures to art shows, winning 3rd place at the 2015 Connecticut Senior Juried Art Show.

These objects — the typewriter, the books, the sculptures — are just part of her story. She was also a huge supporter of the arts, sponsoring scholarships, commissions and exhibitions for artists she admired.

The life of this writer affected so many others.

The typewriter is an artifact, but it also embodied her hopes and dreams. It was a tool that she likely thought about buying for months, and finally did. Adjusted for inflation, the cost back then for this typewriter would have been nearly $1,000. I imagine that in the early days of owning it, she opened it with excitement, the keys representing a gateway for her to create stories.

Her creative vision was expressed in artistic endeavors, in her support of others, and in her everyday life. Her story is spread among millions of interactions that she has had over the years.

Through the typewriter, her story has spread to me.
And through this very post, her story spreads to you.

Within all of this is your story — what you will create and how you will connect your creative vision to the lives of others?

That is something I obsess about. It is the basis for my own book, Be the Gateway, and in the daily work I do with writers and creators.

Louise’s story is a reminder that how we develop our craft and engage with others around artistic work are the ingredients to a fulfilling life.

Thanks!
-Dan

P.S. After I wrote the title of this post, I was reminded of Samantha Hahn’s wonderful book: “A Mother is a Story: A Celebration of Motherhood.” It’s amazing how every aspect of a book, including a title, can swirl around in your head and inspire you. So, thank you to Samantha for the continued inspiration!

Not long ago, my friend Jennie asked me to consider what my perfect day would look like. At first, it was easy to scoff at this question, because each of us does so much to support the needs of others, and ourselves. It feels almost decadent to consider a day that isn’t defined by how you can support your family, pay your mortgage, and care for those around you.

But I spent time asking myself the question she challenged me with. After a few days, I had my answer, and I was surprised at two realizations:

1. I’m already living very close to my ideal day. A day filled with family, writing, and being in the trenches with other writers and creators.
2. The only reason I’m not fully there is that I have been half-baking some things.

The result of the exercise was that I got radically clear on what I wanted to spend my time doing, and I doubled down on it.

I’ve probably taken 1,000 actions in the past couple months to do this, including hiring a new person to help me for this exact purpose.

I want to ask you two questions:

1. What does your ideal day look like?
2. What if you doubled down on your writing? What would that look like? How would it make you feel? What would the result be? What would the first step in that process look like?

(okay, that was six questions!)

This week on my podcast I shared the story of Robert Fieseler. When I first met Bobby, I he was working at a large ad agency. Awhile later, he told me he started going to journalism school in the evenings. That was a little surprising since I knew he already worked long hours. But then he did something totally shocking: he quit his job. The reason why? So he could devote himself full-time to writing a book proposal.

Bobby risked it all to become an author — he doubled down in ways that surprised those around him.

You can hear his entire journey here, and (spoiler alert), there is a happy ending.

Doubling down on your writing is actually a binary process that is full of two things:

1. Yes
2. No

This is where you say yes with vigor to the things that lead you to living your ideal day, one that I assume includes writing. And where you say no (with kindness) to other opportunities and obligations that take you away from your ideal day.

Sometimes these decisions are small: removing the Facebook app from your phone so that you spend small moments in your day thinking about your characters instead of scrolling social media. Or learning to dictate your stories instead of write them so that you can “write” while you walk your dog. Turning off your internet. Last week the power to my studio was cut so they could do some electrical work. I joked that without internet, this is what my laptop felt like: a machine entirely focused on writing, not distraction:

Other times, the actions are large: a career change, turning down volunteer work, or renting out a private writing space outside the home. I know writers who have done each of those things in the past month alone.

For myself, I have been saying “no” a lot recently. I cancelled a local storytelling festival that I help organize. I’ve turned down people who want to collaborate, and some strategic ideas that my team has brought to me that were really exciting. Each of these “no’s” where difficult to make. What I told the people, and what I tell myself, is that what this represents is me saying “yes” with vigor to a handful of things that matter most to me.

The transformation has been astounding.

I’ve been surprised at how much more time I have to create. How much more energy and clarity. My resources are no longer spread paper thin across 1,000 well-meaning, but distracting, tasks. And it’s allowed me to double down on things I love, such as my Mastermind group. For this next session, I’m sending each person who registers a special package in the mail. Here I am with the first batch going to the post office:

Last week I talked about the steps in the making a creative shift, but I want to make the point that I go through my own creative shift with this group.

The results are just amazing. This is what Teri Case said of her time in the Mastermind:

“Since taking several of Dan Blank’s Masterminds, I have published my debut novel, won awards, sent my second novel to my editor, hosted a scholarship, and made over sixty close creative friends. I am now a career novelist. It boggles my mind to say so because I talked about being an author for decades. Decades! Now I can walk my talk. I wish every creative person would do a Mastermind and make their someday this day.”

If you want to embark on a creative shift of your own, and would like to do it with me and a small group of other writers, please check out my Creative Shift Mastermind which begins October 1st.

Thanks!
-Dan

For the past couple of years, I have been working with small groups of writers and artists to develop a process that I call the Creative Shift. This is where you move past a creative rut and feel lit up about your creative vision and writing. Today, I want to share two things with you:

1. I want to share the three-step outline of the Creative Shift process that you can use on your own.
2. I want to invite you to work directly with me and a group of 10 other writers and creators in my Creative Shift Mastermind.

This is a step-by-step process to gain greater creative clarity, establish routines to write and create more easily, and understand how to create a plan to better reach your audience. In working with thousands of writers, I have found that to truly move ahead, you need to take these three actions which comprise the Creative Shift process:

#1 Get Radical Clarity

One challenge that many writers face is that they are overwhelmed with ideas on what they want to create, and all that they are told they have to do in order to publish and market that work. In all of the interviews I have done with successful creators, in all the work I’ve done directly with writers, and in my own experience: success requires radical clarity. For you to choose one thing and double-down on it more than anyone else would.

That’s not a simple process, because it requires you to feel that your choice is authentic to your vision, and that you aren’t saying “no” to the wrong things. People tend to resist Radical Clarity because they want to keep all of their options open. Yet, again and again, I find that once you have a single clear vision of what you want to create and why, you feel an incredible sense of freedom.

I have a lot of exercises to work through this with people, but I’ll share just one here.

Consider the effect that you want your writing or creative work to have in the world. This can be the effect on your life, or that of others. Avoid mentioning accolades such as “bestseller” or “award-winning.” In fact, make this as small and specific as possible. If you are writing a novel, what is your greatest hope for it? How do you want it to effect a single person? Maybe it is to give someone hope, or a respite, or to get them to consider their own lives in a new way. Write that down. Then, consider this: if I told you that if you were willing to do the work, that this effect is guaranteed. You wouldn’t fail. With that in mind, take out a sheet of paper, and write down a 1-line prompt for yourself. Something like: “What if my novel would truly give someone hope?” Hang that somewhere where you will see it every single day. Challenge yourself to give that prompt more room in your life.

#2 Hone Your Creative Process

Living up to your radical clarity begins with your craft. Writers write. Yet, so many people I speak with struggle to find the time or energy to write. They get distracted by other important responsibilities in life. They feel adrift, unable to create with any kind of routine.

I want to encourage you to become a student of your own creative process. If you want others to take your work seriously, then you have to be the first to do so.

Here too, I have a lot of exercises I work with people on, but I’ll share just one right now. Identify the smallest possible action you can take on a daily or weekly basis to create. An action so small that it would be nearly impossible to not do it.

Creative routines don’t require setting huge goals and then pushing yourself to meet them. Instead, you want to develop muscle memory where it becomes easier to create than to not create.

The metaphor I like to use here is to begin with a single pushup. I think I may have heard this once on a Tim Ferriss podcast in terms of getting in shape. Don’t start with some huge workout routine. Instead, once a day, drop to the floor and try to do one pushup. Then move on with your day. At first, you probably won’t be able to do it. But after 4 or 5 days, you will have a nice rickety pushup. You will feel stronger. Then in 14 days, you will have two, and so on.

The trick about this is that it is too easy to not do. You can do this pushup anywhere: your bedroom, a hallway, a conference room at work, in your backyard. It takes less than 5 seconds. It requires no special tools or fancy outfits.

If you develop that one anchor habit, it is dramatically easier to develop it further.

The same goes for your writing and creative work. Start with something small just to prove that you have control of an otherwise scary and unwieldy challenge.

#3 Change Someone’s World

Once you have a sense of what you want to create and a creative process to do so, the next step is to consider how you can share it in a meaningful way. How your creative vision can change someone’s world.

Now, this is typically where people talk about marketing trends and social media. Forget about all of that.

Instead, consider the simplest way you can engage with someone in a conversation about themes that are within your writing or creative work. This does not have to be a conversation about your book or yourself. Consider what question you can ask someone that would lead into this conversation.

I actually wrote a whole book about this topic, Be the Gateway, that is filled with exercises and examples. Here I will simply say this: too many writers get sidetracked by “email list building” and “Amazon algorithms” and “social media followers.” Instead, I want to encourage you to consider how you can engage a single other human being in conversation about the themes that make up your creative vision. Make it about them, not you. Ask questions, be curious about how something in their life relates to these themes.

#4 Don’t Do This Alone

I’m adding a fourth step here: don’t do this alone. As much as possible, involve others in each step. I find that when you collaborate with others, you learn more about your vision, your process, and how those things can connect with the world.

If you want to work with me on all of this, consider joining my next Creative Shift Mastermind which begins October 1st. This is a 3-month program where me and approximately 10 other writers become your support system, brainstorming partners, and the team of collaborators that you have always dreamed of.

I have spent the last three years running this Mastermind with small groups of writers and creators. The results have been magical. Again and again, I have seen friendships formed, professional collaborations forged, and more than anything: people breaking out of ruts in order to truly move ahead with their writing and creative vision.

You can find full details on the Creative Shift Mastermind here.

In want to encourage you to invest in your creative journey, and imagine what could happen if you doubled-down on what lights you up inside.

Thank you.

-Dan