Author: Dan Blank

Today I want to share the lost history of an industry that served writers for decades, and which no longer exists. In a storefront 20 feet wide 50 feet deep, Harmon Rangell sold typewriters from 1962-1996. I encourage you to read to the end of this essay, where he shares wisdom on writing and the power of human connection. Here he is leaving his store on 23rd street in New York City in the 1960s:

He was just down the block from the famed Chelsea Hotel, which meant his store was filled with conversations with writers who would come in to buy or service the machines they used to create. He would say hello to Norman Mailer as he walked by, and embraced the vibe of that street during that time, with Bob Dylan, Allen Ginsburg, Jack Kerouac, Arthur Miller, and Leonard Cohen all writing at the hotel.

I saw a Facebook post from Harmon this past week and immediately reached out to interview him. He graciously accepted, and I was giddy with excitement to chat with an 83 year old who ran a typewriter store for more than three decades!

Harmon recounted those who wrote on his typewriters: Susan Sontag, Annie Leibowitz, John Patrick Stanley (who wrote Moonstruck), Gail Sheehy, David Mamet, Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Russell Baker, Janice Ian, James Rado & Gerome Ragni (who wrote Hair), and many others. Or the times that Robert Duvall and John Savage sat at his desk chatting, while they waited for something to be repaired or looked for a new typewriter.

Writing was all around us then, as now. But the tools to write for publication were heavier, and required craftsmanship to fix. Of course, still today, we have machines all around us that are used to write: laptops, phones, and computers. But these are also machines of distraction. It’s fascinating to consider an era where a single-use writing machine were so prevalent, valuable, and so much a part of our culture.

Harmon reflected on his vantage point at the time: “Finding a guy like me doesn’t exist anymore. People come in and schmooze with me, and tell me about a novel they are writing, then talk about machines. There is no venue today for someone to do that. Or about what the machine means.”

He says that “a lot of the writers had a personal connection to their typewriters,” and talked about author Pete Hamill who kept using an old manual Underwood typewriter instead of upgrading to new models. “There is something to the tactile cause and effect,” Harmon described. Or how journalist Jimmy Breslin rejected Harmon’s suggestion to just buy a new machine, instead opting to keep fixing his old typewriter, saying “No, that’s mine, that is the one I like.”

Of course, it wasn’t just writers who frequented his store. He once received a call from the Ford Foundation when small portable calculators came out, which Harmon also sold. They asked for some information, and he instead responded, “I’m coming up!” He ventured uptown to meet with the Foundation’s then president, McGeorge Bundy, who had previously served as the U.S. National Security Advisor to Presidents John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson. It’s interesting to consider all the interesting people Harmon met simply because of his small store.

As writers of the day hoped to stand out in a crowded field, so did Harmon with his store. There were four other typewriter stores on his block alone (23rd St between 6th and 7th Ave.) What he sold was a commodity, and one that he could be undercut in price by from larger stores. How did he stand out and grow a unique reputation? As he tells it: “I tried to make [my store] unique. I kept it neat, and there were places you could type and try out a machine. I had classical music playing, and cactus all over the place. I tried to make the place different. I talked about anything other than typewriters to connect with customers through music, art, and literature. My place was different.”

It was never easy to keep the business going, especially as the technology kept changing.

Harmon reflected on the progression over the years: “I watched the typewriter business develop from manuals, to electric, to selectric (where you can change the type), then correcting ( with lift off tape that would lift off the error), to dual pitch (where you could choose to type 10 or 12 letters to the inch.) Then the tremendous jump to electronic typewriters that were non mechanical. That changed the whole business. Typewriter mechanics were really craftsmen — really smart people who understood how the mechanics worked. It was an adjustment, not changing parts. When it changed to electronics, it was all changing parts. It changed the business completely.”

He described the early word processors that allowed for “20-30 characters [on a small screen] with 2k of memory (one printed pages worth), and daisy wheel printers, which sold for $2,000 in the late 70s and early 80s.” Harmon told me how amazed customers were that a machine could remember the template of a letter that they wouldn’t have to retype over and over.

When I asked about how he summed up the experience, he immediately talked about risk. How he always had to be inventive to find new opportunities in a constantly evolving industry. Here he is from a newspaper article about him from the 1980s:

Of course, we all know how this story ends. A computer in the 1970s cost between $20,000 – $30,000. But then, “all the sudden computers came down to $4,000-$6,000. All the big guys closed up — IBM , Smith Corona. Just closed their doors.”

Once computers took over, he would buy used typewriters by the dozen, but with much less profit to be made. Harmon describes how, “companies had storerooms of manual typewriters that they couldn’t do anything with.” He would walk into a bank or insurance company, the would bring him to a storeroom where 50-80 typewrites would be piled up. They’d look at Harmon and ask in bewilderment: “You want to buy these?!” He would pay $3 to $5 each, and sell them for $20 a piece.

Here he is in a New York Times article from the early 1990s, describing him as the last of the typewriter stores in Manhattan:

In the 1970s and 1980s New York was a notoriously dangerous place, but Harmon said he never felt afraid, but he was robbed plenty of times. He described the time that “a truck backed up on the sidewalk, hooked a chain to the gate, and ripped the whole thing off the front.” Or another time, how “they chopped a whole through the back wall.”

I asked if he ever consider closing up shop during that time? His answer: “Every f*cking day!”

Harmon was 60 years old when he let go of the business, and had to craft a second act for himself, this time selling photocopiers, scanners, and related electronics for large companies. Like many in NYC from that era, he bemoaned that he didn’t invest in real estate: “I could have bought the building for $100k, with $10k down, and likely sold for $3 million. I could have been a rich man.” Here is a more recent photo of Harmon:

He is a writer as well, publishing a novel in 2016, other essays, and I’ve seen his artwork shared online too. I loved how he described the difference between getting one’s work published today compared to decades ago:

“I marvel at the difference — I wrote a piece the other day, and [years ago] I would have mailed it to an editor who would receive it with 300-400 others and maybe get back after a few weeks. But instead I posted it to Facebook and 300 people commented on that. It’s very satisfying, but it’s not making me any money.”

I asked what he misses most about the typewriter store, and he immediately replied: “Human interaction. I was on all the time. People would come in, and I realized I had no exclusivity — so I sold me. I’m going to make a connection with these people, and once they do, why not buy from me? I enjoyed that interaction. It was satisfying.”

Listening to him is a form of time travel for me. To consider the world he experienced, and his place within it. Harmon was born in Brooklyn, moved to Queens at age 9, and went to college in the Bronx. This reminded me of my own family history: my mom grew up on the lower east side of Manhattan before moving to Queens, and my dad spent his childhood in the Bronx.

One summer Harmon got in a 1951 Chevy with a few buddies and drove across the country. He later spent 2 years in the military, serving in Germany just as the Berlin Wall was being built in 1961.

Here he is in the mid-1950s playing poker with friends, Harmon is on the right in the eyeglasses:

He has kids and grandkids who are all grown, and he seemed to indicate the it’s unlikely that these younger generations want to hear stories about running a typewriter store. But I found every word he shared to be fascinating, and it feels like an honor to be able to share his story with you.

In this way, you become a part of his story, and he a part of yours. Please leave a comment for Harmon if anything here resonates with you, he will be reading them.

Thank you for being here with me.
-Dan

A writer I’ve been working with recently share this with me: “I see inspiration all around me!” This was after her first efforts of being public online as a writer, sharing her initial essays on Substack, and videos on Instagram.

This is the place I always hope a writer gets to — not just focusing on hollow numbers, but truly living a life filled with inspiration and connection around the themes you write about. This moment is a huge milestone.

Many writers who are just starting to develop their platforms worry that they may run out of things to write about. But reaching that moment of seeing inspiration all around you means that you have developed this skill to observe and listen, and see thousands of ideas for what you can write about — that your audience may love — that aligns to the themes or stories that matter most to you.

Today I want to share a small case study about the work this author has been doing to go from “zero to 100,” so to speak. A month or so ago, she launched her Substack and author Instagram account, and recently hit 100 subscribers on the former, and 100 followers on the latter. Does that specific number matter? Not really. But it’s a nice round number, and a fun metaphor to work with!

In the process, I want to share what the steps look like to understand how to share your message, and really step into the light as a writer.

Awhile back I began working with Ruhie Vaidya, a doctor in Australia who is writing a memoir. You can see her Substack here, and her Instagram here.

We worked on developing her messaging — how to translate her mission to specific wording that would engage her ideal readers. We moved through many other steps of my Creative Success Pyramid, including developing her bio, creating audience personas, identifying the channels she will use, creating a content strategy, and so much else.

While one can plan, there is so much learning that happens in the doing. Putting yourself and your message out there can be really scary. It opens you up to judgement from others, and can trigger hidden inner fears we have about saying the wrong thing, or taking the wrong action.

In setting up Ruhie’s platform, we didn’t worry about the gimmicks and trends, but instead focused on developing her identity as a writer, and seeding the experiences with readers that she hopes for. It is about the moments of connection, when someone is moved or inspired or educated by what you write.

In all of this work, there are so many literacies happening at once: to understand new platforms (such as Substack and Instagram), define yourself and your life’s work concisely, have a clear path to share what matters most to you, develop an editorial process, let others know, record videos, and so much else.

I suppose that is why I wanted to focus on “zero to 100” instead of case studies you often see about people reaching 10,000 subscribers or something like that. Zero to 100 is huge! It is the culmination of so much work to step out, share, and connect. And that is also a lot to learn at once, plus a lot to experience emotionally and psychologically.

Ruhie’s most recent post on Substack (her fourth overall) had 28 comments. She described to me how incredible that felt to have real conversations happening, and knowing her writing is connecting with people.

She started sharing Reels on Instagram about how to support others through grief — stepping in front of the camera and sharing her literal voice too.

What else could Ruhie be doing to optimize her efforts and grow her audience? I mean, so much. I could look at each individual thing she is doing and offer optimizations, as well as identify loads of other ideas for growth. But I also believe that we have to move through this one step at a time. I see so many writers caught on a hamster wheel of a million ideas that seem to stop them from making any real progress because they are rushing from one to the next, and always overwhelmed by the new ideas being added to the list.

I believe that sometimes the best prompt is the simplest:

• What is one thing I can do to share my message today?
• How could I engage with or attract one additional person to my writing?

These are small steps that lead to meaningful interactions with real people. And isn’t that the goal? I’ve spoken to so many people over the years who will say things like: “Oh sure, I have 20,000 followers, but I don’t really know any of them, or who my audience is at all.” That is a remarkable difference from having a smaller following, but truly knowing who they are and feeling that something beautiful is growing there.

Don’t let fear stop you. This is a journey and it is filled with important lessons.

I’ve sent out my newsletter every single week for 19 years. That’s nearly 1,000 issues in a row. It is filled with moments, not metrics. And when I do look at the metics, something I see is that every single week, someone unsubscribes. Usually more than one person. And I am fine with that. It is someone choosing to focus their time and attention on what matters most to them. For whatever reason, that isn’t me or my message at the moment. Good for them!

Other times, a single connection turns into something magical. Chris the Teacher’s Champion mentioned me in a post, referencing something I wrote. That was incredibly kind of him. Then Neera Mahajan saw that, and looked into my work, saying:

“For the next 24 hours, between cooking, cleaning, washing, and ironing, I read most of Dan Blank[’s] posts (of course, only the free ones), explored his website, binge-watched his videos, and bought and read his book, Be The Gateway.”

I mean, wow!

She then wrote a Substack post reviewing my book and sharing about my work. It was an incredibly generous post, and she even followed up with me via email. She didn’t have to do any of this. She could have left a simple “like” on one of my posts, and that alone would have been nice. It was amazing to see her reach out and be so public in sharing what she is learning and her own process. And of course, there is a lot to learn here.

The other day I spoke with a writer who had pitched a few collaborations to others and felt frustrated that they weren’t receiving a reply. I encouraged them to flip it: what if you review what these people are doing, identify what they are most excited about, and then instead of pitching your stuff, take an action celebrating what they are doing? Why? Beyond just being generous and helpful, it helps that person become aware of you and get to know your work. This is something I remember learning when I worked with salespeople — the really good ones never made a cold pitch right away. They looked at it as a relationship that took time to develop, one meaningful moment at a time.

Sometimes the salespeople would track this, and create a little 5-part system, from how someone goes from a cold lead to a loyal customer. They would focus on developing the relationship slowly from 0 to 5. At 0, it means the person doesn’t know you at all. A 1 means they are aware you exist. A 2 means they have met you. A 3 means they have a good feeling about your work. A 4 means you had a meaningful conversation. Etc. So instead of saying “I’m going to pitch someone today who has never heard of me, doesn’t know how my work aligns to theirs, and I will make a specific ask of them that may or may not fit into their existing process…” — they consider: “How can I go from a zero to a 1” — from not being aware of me, to being aware. Then a few weeks later: “How can I go from a 1 to a 2” — from being vaguely aware, to feeling my work aligns with theirs.

Is all of this just a heartless process to make a sale? With the salespeople I really admired, it wasn’t. Their lives were filled with relationships that truly mattered. Also, they were some of the best listeners I’ve ever met.

This is something I consider when I talk about Human-Centered Marketing. Ensure that meaningful experiences with real people are at the heart of what it means for you to share your writing — and yourself — publicly.

Let me know in the comments: how has sharing your work helped fill you with inspiration, ideas for what to write about, or meaningful moments with others.

Thank you for being here with me.
-Dan

So often, I see or hear writers express that things aren’t as good as they used to be for writers, or in publishing. Their thinking can take many forms:

• Years ago, it was a less crowded market.
• It was easier to get published “back in the day.”
• When you did get published decades ago, your publisher did more work to ensure the book reached readers than they do today.
• Back then, a writer could just write, and not worry about marketing.

Today I want to explore whether this is true, and why I tend to feel that writers have never lived in a better time to create, publish, and share their work. Does this mean the path is simple? Of course not. But I feel it is more accessible than ever, and not only that, it offers a wider range of options to reach readers in a way that aligns with what feels authentic and fulfilling to you.

I talk about Human-Centered Marketing all the time, and while I can be as sentimental as anyone else about the past, the truth is, now is the time I want to be living and creating in.

Perception Vs. Reality of the Past

Photos like these pop up in my social media feed every so often:

Simple enough right? There are some easily verifiable facts here, such as the average gas price in 1971 in the US was .36 cents a gallon, and that a 1970 Chevelle tank was 20 gallons. So sure, $5 could fill up a low tank. The same can be found for a Google search for “average house price in US in 1971.”

Except, everything else about the photo is wrong.

From what I can tell, all or some of the image is AI generated. The signs have gobbledygook on them, that vaguely resemble old signs. There are no actual words, just squiggles that resemble word-like structures. The gas hoses line up to nothing, and begin and end at odd places. The figure seems to be holding the gas nozzle, replacing it to the pump in an unusually high position, while a second pump at that station is already where it should be.

But mostly, it’s the implied message of this photo that is wrong. Of course, it can be read in a number of ways, but in reviewing the comments, I found people translating it generally as “Yep, life was not only simpler back then, but way more affordable.” One commenter summed it up as: “It would be great if it was still this way,” and included a little heart emoji.

Luckily others in the comments provided needed context: wages were dramatically less back then, that people forget that inflation meant that things that seem cheap back then, actually weren’t. The average price of a halfway decent TV back then would be $300-500, which equals about $2,000-3,500 in today’s dollars. One of the most popular camera models of that era (The Canon AE-1) cost about $600 back in 1976. Sounds reasonable, right? Except that is $3,600 in today’s dollars. (Did I spend far too long researching this? Yes! And I loved every moment of it.)

Why share this example? Because the same kinds of false narratives happen around writing and publishing. That it was easier to write, easier to get published, easier to have your books promoted — all with less expectations/work on the part of the author. That there were lavish resources provided by others to ensure your book reached readers.

Can we find examples of this from years ago? Of course. The world was a different place when there were only major 3 TV networks, no internet, no personal computers, and everyone worked with typewriters, and rotary phones. Back then, print media (books, magazines, newspapers) was one of the only accessible home media types beyond records.

I see other historic images shared with similar effect:

Is this a real photo? Seems to be, but it also seems staged. So I’m not sure if this is a publicity photo taken on the runway, or an actual meal during a flight in the air. Again, people seem to often translate it as “gosh, customers were treated with respect back then, and got way more for their money.”

Except when you consider details. Then suddenly, that simplistic narrative isn’t really true. The most obvious of which that this is likely first class, and that there seem to be no seats at all on the left side of the plane, at least in this section near the front. Again we can factor in inflation that these were likely $5,000+ seats in today’s dollars. And then there is the thing we don’t see in the photo: that this cabin likely reeked of cigarette smoke.

I’m a very sentimental person, and I do spend a fair amount of time thinking about the past. But when it comes to how we create and share, I focus on the opportunity that each person has to have their voice heard. I fill my studio with vintage objects that were used to create and share, and what I find is that they were: expensive, limiting, and hard to use.

Why is it easy to fall into the trap of feeling things were easier and better “back then?” Because on a day-to-day basis as writers, we may struggle. We try to craft something we love, publish it, and ensure it reaches readers — but often we feel we are failing at these tasks. At times, we feel lost and alone. We have the best of intentions, but seem to fall flat, as others seem to somehow stumble into success.

So it’s reasonable to consider that we would want maximum benefit for minimum effort, and to think, “If only I lived back then, things would be easier.”

But this is often a false narrative. And one that I fear holds us back from writing and sharing today. From ensuring that your unique voice connects with real people.

Success is Always Difficult

Years ago when you wanted to write and submit a manuscript, you had to do so on a typewriter. Have you tried using one of these in the past 2 decades? I have. It… well, it sucks. Every mistake is difficult to fix. Every tiny edit requires you to start over. And I’m saying this as someone who has a beautiful collection of typewriters here in the studio:

To query agents, you had to send letters and packages through the mail. Then, weeks later, keep checking your mailbox for a reply.

You had no access to these agents and understanding what they are looking for beyond basic descriptions. Unlike today, where you can follow literary agents online who share copious details about what they are looking for in their social media feeds and online events.

If you were published, it is true that less was likely expected of you in terms of marketing. But it also meant that you had less agency. You were entirely beholden to the whims of your publisher. If you didn’t feel they did enough, or did the right thing… too bad. There were very limited options to reach readers directly, and those that did exist were expensive and time consuming.

As for self-publishing… there was basically no path here. Not all that many years ago, it was referred to only as “vanity publishing,” and it provided no very limited means for you to actually have your books carried in places where people buy books. Today your book can easily self-publish a book and have it instantly carried in the world’s largest bookseller.

I saw this video the other day of Steve Martin talking emotionally about John Candy, describing lines from the film Planes, Trains and Automobiles that were cut — lines that made him cry at Candy’s performance. Steve reflected on his experience in movies:

“When I started making movies, I thought, ‘Okay, I have to make 40 movies in order to get 5 good ones. Because a movie is such a circus with so much input. You can’t know ahead of time.”

“It got so frustrating I wanted to stop. Because you pour your heart into these movies: you are thinking about it, you are working hard, you are doing it, and two years later it’s just another title on the video shelf.”

At the time, Steve was a big movie star, working on A-list movies, huge budgets, and earning well. He was at the peak of fame. And yet, even here, lines are cut. He can’t guess which movies will succeed. He feels so frustrated, he wants to stop because the work will become diminished.

I remember working with author Joseph Finder, whose books have been made into movies. That is a dream for many writers, and years ago his bestselling book Paranoia was slated to star Harrison Ford, Gary Oldman, Liam Hemsworth, and Richard Dreyfus. It had an estimated $35 million dollar budget, and loads of publicity. But it had disappointing results at the box office, grossing a total of $7.3 million in the US and Canada, and $17 million worldwide.

What went wrong? You could spend a year studying this and still not know. It was filled with highly successful elements that — somehow — didn’t add up to a successful release.

Of course, ever the wordsmith, my favorite detail from all of this is from Joseph himself. A reporter reached out to him after the disappointing opening weekend at the box office, saying, “Reached Thursday via e-mail, Finder would say only that he’s canceling his order for a red Ferrari.”

Focus on the Craft of Writing and Sharing

We tend to look at the past with rose-colored glasses. It’s easy to highlight the good things, and diminish the bad when doing so. Yet I believe it is much easier for to write, publish, and share your work today than ever before.

Is that easy? Nope. So it naturally leads to the question of, “What works today?” This is where the concept of craft comes in. To find out by focusing on clarity of purpose, small consistent improvement, and embracing the work. So the answer to “What works today?” is: find out. I’ve worked with writers for more than two decades, and in my experience, this is what that process tends to look like:

• Ask the right questions of yourself. When I begin working with a writer, one of the first things I do is send them a questionnaire about their goals and challenges. Time and time again, they tell me that the questionnaire alone helped them get a lot of clarity about how to navigate their challenges to lead to their goals. That is before we even begin working. This is why I share my Clarity Card process so openly, because it encourages us to ask difficult questions of our own intentions, consider the experiences we want to fill our weeks, and how to take clear actions and build fulfilling habits. (FYI: You can get instant access to the monthlong mini-workshop I just ran about Clarity Cards for my paid subscribers. More info here.)
• Talk to people. Every single week. Who? Other writers, readers, librarians, booksellers, anyone who aligns to the themes you love writing about, and so many others. First, this develops a thriving network around what you write, which is huge for not only creating potential in your career as a writer, but it just feels good! Second: you are constantly learning what works and why. There is a difference between someone who works to come up with a tagline that describes their writing, but never uses it until they pitch an agent, and someone who is constantly using that line in casual conversations. In that latter case, they are learning what works, iterating, trying again. By the time they get to that agent pitch, they are confident in how to talk about their writing. But more than all of this, you learn what works for others. When I first started my company, I talked to sooooooo many people who had started companies before more me. I asked honest questions. I can clearly remember having a meal with someone who publicly presented themselves as a huge success in their business, yet evaded sharing any meaningful details about how they started or grew their business. Even simple questions like, “Gee, I’m not sure how much to charge” was greeted with an answer like, “Whatever you are thinking, double it.” When I pressed further, just to get some clarity, I received similarly vague advice. Luckily, I kept talking to people and asking honest questions, and received truly amazing advice from people such as Kate Travers and Donna Flagg. I can still remember the profound sense of relief I felt in the moments when one of them would say something like, “Okay, this is exactly how I do this…” and gave me practical answers, even if it meant loads of hard work for me to follow their advice.
• Share frequently. The encouragement to share frequently is not about pleasing the social media algorithms (you know I don’t believe in that!), but about communicating with real people, and learning how to express your unique creative voice. This takes time — not only to learn what feels right for you to share, but for others to truly understand what you write and why. Frequency encourages experimentation, and in that comes more learning. I’ve sent nearly 1,000 issues of this weekly newsletter over the past 19 years, and each week still feels like an experiment. What that means is that my life is filled with learning — how to communicate what matters most, and how to connect with those who are moved by similar things as I am. In the many failures along the way — the things that didn’t go as planned — are precious lessons. I’ve learned to embrace those.
• Double-down on yourself. I know you are busy. That your days are likely spent with an exhausting array of responsibilities around work, finance, family, mental health, physical health, and many other obligations. Yet, here you are, with a creative vision burning inside you — something you want to write or create. A story or idea that you just know matters — that could brighten someone’s day. The temptation to dim your creative light is likely strong at times, because those other responsibilities are so important. I simply want to encourage you to double-down on yourself. To consider ways of creating and sharing — even if tiny — that keep you moving forward with your creative vision. I think back to interviews with authors Michael La Ronn who writes portions of his books on his phone while waiting for his wife at Target; Tammy Greenwood who described writing in her car while on pick up line at school for her kids; Stacy McAnulty who wrote a draft of a book one-handed, without punctuation or capitalization, because she wrote while breastfeeding her first child using her other hand.

Where else to begin? Read my archives. Subscribe to Courtney Maum, Kathleen Schmidt, Leigh Stein, Jane Friedman, Brooke Warner, Carly Watters, Kate McKean, KJ, and of course, Jennie Nash.

Are there times you feel things were easier for writers years ago? How do you keep yourself motivated to create and share today?

Thank you for being here with me.
-Dan

Today I want to take you behind-the-scenes into my studio, where I spend my days working with writers and creators. This is a private room filled with the celebration of writing, creating, and connecting with readers. I’ll share how I organize the studio, my creative process, and other details of this inspiring place. Join me, it’s just beyond this door with the multi-colored glass:

This is when I first arrived 7 years ago:

Yes, I got very lucky with the windows. My second son was just born, and it felt like in order to honor the space that my work requires, and the space my family requires, I needed a place outside the home to create and work with writers.

In that time, I have moved things around in the studio 100 times, and filled it with objects that inspire me. Here it is today:

My shelves are filled with a colorful collection of typewriters, books, and other vintage items. I actually developed a plan to hook up that yellow phone so that when my cellphone rings, it gets routed to this old yellow phone! I even have a vintage answering machine I can use for it.

The space has 4 unique zones, even though it isn’t really that big:

• Desk area where I work and record videos for my clients.
• Stretching area where I do my daily stretches and light workouts. I have scoliosis, so in order to keep my back aligned, this daily practice is super important.
• A chaise lounge for my daily nap. Yep, I’m a huge believe in daily naps and have taken one each day for well over a decade.
• Vintage technology storage: a big ugly shelf that has 4 vintage TVs, old stereo systems from the 1980s, a vintage beta movie camcorder and more. Is this stuff silly and outdated? Sure. Do I absolutely love it? Yes!

I have the TVs rigged up so that they can each display the same feed from my camera or computer:

My days here are spent talking with writers and creators, helping them to get creative clarity, develop their platforms, connect with readers, launch books, and craft marketing campaigns.

I work with writers of all genres/topics, publishing paths, and levels of experience. All of this happens via phone, Zoom, and online. I’m in New Jersey, and currently have clients as far away as Canada, England, and Australia. And of course, all over the US. At the moment, my youngest client is 28 and the oldest just turned 90.

I am the luckiest person in the world because my days are spent in conversation with writers and creators. Those who take the risk to share their unique voices.

Every writer is different, and the work I do is highly collaborative. We generally follow the methodology I created in the Creative Success Pyramid, customizing it for each writer every step of the way.

(You can learn more about working with me here.)

Of course, this is also the space where I write and create. I tend to wake up very early, and love getting here when the streets are quiet and the building is dark. Everything seems possible in that moment. It’s where I write my weekly newsletters and work on my next book.

I overdo it a bit with my technology setup, but the goal is to be able to immediately create and share a video with a writer I’m working with, or record something for Substack or a workshop I’m developing.

This is what I use:

• A Mac Studio computer, which I tend to change out every 2 years. I have a backup work laptop, as well as a full home office. I’m a big believe in backups.
• Camera with a wide angle lens housed inside a teleprompter with a small screen below it, all on a heavy duty tripod that used to be used for a large telescope. The camera is a Sony A7C, with a Sigma 14-24mm lens, a Glide Gear teleprompter, and Lilliput 10” monitor.
• Video switcher. I went overboard here, but it not only allows me to record/stream from multiple cameras, but it creates backups of everything. I use this for live online events, and all my audio/video work. It’s an ATEM Mini Extreme ISO.
• Microphone. I bought this years ago for my podcast, and now use it for all Zoom calls too. It’s a Heil PR40.
• Lighting. The one on the left is from an inexpensive kit I bought years ago. Out of frame to the right is a professional Amaran 200x with dome and C-stand.
• Overhead camera. This is difficult to see in the photo, but it’s a Canon camera on a special rig so that it points straight down onto the tabletop. I used this for my recent Clarity Cards Workshop, so I could show people how to use the cards with one camera, and see me with the other one.
• A TV so that I use during recording that allows me to see all video feeds at once, so that I can easily switch between them while live.
• An analog synthesizer (Korg Minilogue XD), Drum Machine (Elektron Digitakt), Guitar, and amplifier. If/when I relaunch my podcast, I may use these for the music.
• A comfy chair to support my back! I literally found this on the side of the road. It was in great shape, and I just changed out the arm rests with new ones because the old ones showed a little wear.

I purchased all of this slowly, usually one item per year. I also have a nice pair of speakers on stands directly opposite my desk so that I can listen to music for hours a day.

As noted earlier, I’m a huge believer in backups, and have multiple online and offline backups so that if anything breaks, my files are safe, and I can continue working on other hardware.

When I first signed the lease on this space it felt scary — it was a big commitment. But in time I realized that it wasn’t the commitment to those I rent from that scared me, it was the commitment to myself.

This was a place to double-down on my creative vision and the writers I work with. To invest in what is possible. What difference has a private studio made in my life? I create more consistently, I create for longer periods of time, and I feel more focused.

Do you need a private studio? Of course not. I have created in a wide range of places over the years. If I consider the goals of a creative space, they would include:

• Provide clarity on what you need to do. For years, I would write at cafes or libraries. There are many times that I would ensure I had clarity by turning my laptop into a machine with a single purpose. I would remove all other files from the desktop of the computer except for the one document I was currently writing. In my mind, this machine had a single purpose. It was no longer a computer that could do 1,000 things, it was now only a tool to work on a single piece of writing.
• Remove you from distraction. Even at home, I still keep a home office. This space has a door that not only closes, but locks! Of course, my studio has the same thing. But when I wrote in public, at cafes and libraries, I would choose my seat carefully. Sometimes I liked the white noise of being right in the middle of a busy space. Other times, I would go to a library two towns away, and sit in a corner facing the wall. I would also wear headphones while writing, listening to music. The music would remove me from my physical context, and focus me on the task at hand. Headphones are also a wonderful signal to others that you shouldn’t be disturbed. Don’t just use earbuds, go and buy those big headphones that cover your ears! Author Tim Ferriss has said that he would wear headphones when working out at a public gym, but won’t be listening to anything. He wears them as a signal to others that he is concentrating and shouldn’t be disturbed.
• Incentivize you to create. You want to feel a sense of accomplishment when you create, right? I try to set small but specific goals/expectations when I create, so that I can feel a sense of satisfaction when my day needs to move on to other responsibilities. Some writing programs will have a little meter so that you can choose a goal for a writing session by word count, and the meter will change from red to orange to green as you come closer to the goal. If you are ideating or editing, it may be more difficult to quantify results. Consider hanging a simple calendar in your creative space where you get to mark a big bold X on every day that you create. When I wrote at cafes, I would sometimes buy myself a treat if I reached a certain writing goal, such as writing for an hour. Brownies an be wonderful creative tools!
• Remove all barriers to entry for getting started. Do you write on a laptop that takes 7 minutes to boot up, has a desktop filled with 100 files, and it sits on a crowded desk with all of your bills, recipes, and mail? If so, that means that just to get to your writing means you are forcing yourself to wade through all of that distraction first. Honor your creative time as best you can by making it easy to create. Sometimes this is with a clean desk or desktop, or a private space to write (again I’ll mention libraries here), or simply scheduling time to create. Block off that time in your calendar so that it is as unmovable as an important doctor’s appointment. Make your creative work an obligation that is as important as any other in your life.
• Have all of the tools you need at the ready. When I spoke to author Dani Shapiro she talked about how the tool that most writers use is also the source of their greatest distraction: the computer. People struggle to not be distracted by email, social media, or the news. Consider buying a used laptop that is just for writing. I remember I was once working with a group of writers, and three of them admitted that they wrote on an old-fashioned word processor! Why? Because it didn’t have a web browser, and didn’t even connect to the internet. Consider all of the tools you need to create invest in them. For the first few months in my studio, it was largely empty. It took awhile to give myself permission to invest in books, supplies, other materials that I can use in my creative process. Each expense felt like a debate in my mind about whether it would have a return on investment. But then, I would look at a photo of Calder’s studio and see raw materials scattered across his floor; I would look at photos of Ray Eames’ studio and all of the shelves of materials that she kept in case she needed them; I would look at Kate Bush in the studio, with thousands of dollars of gear ready at a moments notice.

Please let me know in the comments: what would your perfect creative space be like? Where would it be, or what would you include in it, or how would it feel? Describe it any way you like.

Thank you for being here with me.
-Dan

The other day a writer said to me: “I have been making different choices this week because of the Clarity Cards.” That meant a lot to me. So much of what it means for each of us to write, publish, and share our work is about making choices. We choose to write each day, to send an email to reach out to another author, to show up and engage with readers, or to publish again and again. Today I want to talk about making choices that help you connect what you create with those who will truly appreciate it.

I’ve always had anxiety, and one of the ways I deal with it is this: begin again. I simply wake up the next day as a fresh start, and attend to the things that matter most to me first thing. My parents were both early risers and I have always been one, too. On most days around 5am I am driving to my studio, and I notice the other people who are out. Often they are joggers and those who are waiting outside the gym I pass on my way to work. It’s 5am and people are in line waiting for the gym to open.

I consider each of these people with empathy. Why is she waiting for the doors to open? It’s likely that she has to be on the 7:30am train to work — likely she has a couple kids at home still sleeping. She is making the choice to ensure she puts her health first in the day, because if she doesn’t, other responsibilities will get in the way, and she may never make it to the gym.

Earlier this week I woke up just after 3:30am and was on my way to the studio around 4:15. I’ll admit, I felt like a weirdo as I left the house. Then, 1/2 a block from my house, I saw a car back out of their driveway. “Okay, I’m not the only one, I thought.” Then a block later, another car backed out of their driveway. I don’t know who these people are, or where they were going, but I assumed it was to work somewhere.

They are making choices. For some, they may feel the choice is made for them, such as, “To make ends meet, I’m working a double shift, and that means my workday starts at 5am.” Yet that is still a choice — to try to make those ends meet.

Recently another writer told me about how my work has been encouraging her to share more, saying: “It’s a remarkable change you started. A couple of years ago I went out of my way to NOT share that I worked on things that mattered to me. It turns out, people can handle knowing what I’m up to!”

So often, writers and creators desperately hope that their work is seen and embraced. What I often consider is: what does a writer do after they click ‘publish’ to help this happen? The other day I asked writers about their ideal weeks. I heard a wide range of answers, but one theme kept coming up again and again: wanting to publish an essay and then spend the rest of the week engaging with people who were moved by it and letting the writer know about it.

Of course, I love that. What I consider is whether this an active process, or passive? We tend to dream of the passive version: one where we write, click ‘publish’…. then some kind of unseen magic happens… and readers find it, read it, then take the time out of their day to choose to engage with you, share it with others, and otherwise support your writing.

So much of my work is about is trying to demystify: what is that “magic?” That in-between step where a writer feels they have agency to connect their writing with readers who will appreciate it.

My fear is always that if a writer publishes something and feels no one has read it, that they may feel bad about it and stop writing. I desperately want for people to keep writing and sharing their unique creative voices.

In answering the question about the magic, I have found that the answer is to view marketing as a craft. To proactively reach out to people, get good at basic communication skills, share your work as if it truly matters, and show up to support others, not just hope they support you. This is central to the methodology I created, which I call the Creative Success Pyramid.

If you are trying to bridge that gap between your writing and your readers, here are some things to consider trying…

Use a Wide Range of Emotions to Engage Readers

If you are sharing about the themes you write about often — say, in a weekly Substack newsletter, or on Instagram, or podcasts, or some other channel — I encourage you to consider how you can share with a wide range of emotions.

What would a post look like if it centered on joy? On fear? On apprehension? On envy? On love? On fickleness? (I don’t really know if each of these are emotions, but you get the idea.)

For one, this gives you the entire range of human emotions by which to consider the themes you write about. But it also allows you to tap into what engages people in different ways.

So often, writers and creators are looking for new trends and hacks to engage people. Instead, I encourage you to focus on simplicity. Let me share a (somewhat bizarre) example:

Back in 2004, Gary Brolsma made a simple video lip-syncing to a song, and called it “Numa Numa Dance.” He’s sitting at his chair in front of his computer, what looks to be a reptile cage over one shoulder, a window air conditioner over the other.

This video went viral in a big way, with hundreds of millions of views. I’ve become fascinated with it as an example of simplicity and emotion.

The framing of the video is way off. The image is highly pixelated. He’s doing a dance and you can barely even see the top of his shoulders. Yet, it’s highly engaging, because he covers a wide range of emotions in this tiny space:

A team of people with professional dancers, a choreographer, set builders, and a famous director could have spent months creating a video, and it likely wouldn’t have had as much success as this simple video. Which brings me to…

Embrace Your Limits

So often writers and creators don’t share because they bemoan their limits. They justify it by saying that they don’t have knowledge of a certain channel, have no energy, or time, or access. Yet some of the most engaging people I have found online have these same exact limits, and flip them on their heads.

For instance, they make short videos while walking home from a run to solve the “time” issue. Or they start on TikTok or Instagram or Substack, and immediately say, “I have no idea what I’m doing, but…” and then they share their unique voice with the world.

One of my favorite examples of this is a comedian that I wrote about a couple of years back. He created a comedy special from one room in a small building in his backyard. The result? Multiple Emmy Awards, a Grammy Award, and so much more.

Here are the posts:

• Creating is the best marketing
• Ever feel like the creative process is a total mess?

What you see is someone immersed in the creative process, and embracing their limits. That awkward room with the air conditioner in the background (again with the air conditioner?!) is transformed into set after set, and wildly different styles of performances during the comedy special.

He could have spent a year writing a comedy special, justifying that he would have to film it later on in a professional studio. Instead he used what he had:

He shared a behind-the-scenes video about the making of this special, and what you see is, well, boring. Someone spending their time trying out different lighting effects from a cheap LED light that he probably spent $25 on. The choice he made was to spend a few hours experimenting with the light instead of watching Netflix or scrolling on Facebook. Which leads us to…

Invest in Basic Communication Skills

I often feel that so many of us walk around with common fears about social interactions. So we avoid them, even if they lead to amazing things for our writing, and for ourselves personally.

I want to encourage you to get good at these basic communication skills. Writing an email (without AI), sending a DM, pitching yourself, or just knowing how to introduce yourself to someone as a writer or creator. An easy example is being prompt in communication. I have had plenty of writers over the years say things to me like, “Oh I was desperately hoping for an agent to be interested in my writing, then I went to an writing conference, and an agent really wanted to see my manuscript!” When I asked what happened next, they would reply, “Oh nothing yet, that was three months ago, I’m too scared to send it. I want to revise it one more time.”

When someone reaches out to you and they hear back right away, you make their life better. They aren’t left waiting. They don’t begin entertaining negative thoughts like, “He hasn’t replied yet, I bet I was annoying him, I shouldn’t have sent the email.” So much of this is not about “writing the perfect email.” Instead, it is about being clear enough so people understand, and brief enough so they can take action.

I can think of a few moments in my life when I realized that basic communication skills were a critical part of who I am and what I can accomplish:

In the late 1990s I was working at an online startup in New York City. A co-worker and I were creating a 1-page marketing letter, and when I reviewed the copy, I saw some glaring changes that needed to be made. I pointed them out to her, and she immediately was like, “Oh, yes, of course.” And I noticed something in the moment: she hadn’t seen them. Now, this co-worker was super smart and talented. It was a tiny thing, but it was a moment in my life where I realized, “Sometimes I can see things that others don’t with language.” From that point on, I focused on writing and editing a lot more, trying to develop those skills.

My father was always amazed at how I was able to write this newsletter each week — this is the 19th year of sending them weekly. Growing up, I would watch him pour over letters he wrote, or any kind of writing he had to do. He would sit there editing them again and again. When I was going through his papers after he passed away, I found a folder filled with drafts of a single letter to an insurance company. Draft after draft, each with markups. I saw him work at writing, and I suppose that always stuck with me.

Another time, I had begun working at a publisher in their corporate communications department. I was working with a colleague who was super talented, and came from a big newspaper as a reporter. We were both new to the company, were writing an article, and we had a question for someone in the HR department for our Chicago office. But we didn’t know anyone yet. So I picked up the phone, dialed a random number from the company directory for the Chicago office, explained what we needed, and got routed to the right person. When I put down the phone, my colleague stood next to me, her mouth agape, “I can’t believe you just did that!” I was confused and asked, “Did what?” She couldn’t believe that I just called a random number, saying, “What if a VP of the company answered?” insinuating that I could have somehow bothered them. I explained that I was honest in what we needed, and I’m sure they would have helped.

Now, here too, my colleague was AMAZING. I learned so much from her. Yet somehow, making a cold call like this — even inside our own company — was a hard line she wouldn’t cross. Again, I noticed this about myself, here was something that was easy for me. So I started developing that skill even further. Of course, nowadays, I help writers get comfortable with these types of things all the time.

Invest in the basic skills of communication. They will serve you in a wide variety of situations in how you share your writing.

What are the skills you have developed — or seen others develop — that you feel help them connect their writing with readers? I would love to hear examples or stories in the comments!

Thank you for being here with me.
-Dan