Step into your creative identity with bravery

Share your writing with confidence

It’s so easy to justify not sharing about your writing or creative work. To hide away, and conclude that doing so is a smart move:

• “Shouldn’t I be writing my next book, not posting on social media? I heard it doesn’t really sell books anyway.”

• “I’m not reaching out to other authors. What I want is readers, not writers.”

• “I hate email. I’m not launching a newsletter. Everyone I know hates email too.”

• “Podcasts? I mean, unless I get on (insert name of super huge podcast), I don’t see how it will help me sell a single book. I’m not bothering.”

• “There is so much going on in the world. Who wants to hear about me and my book? It would be insensitive of me to even share about it now.”

When we don’t share about our creative work, is it any wonder that it languishes? That it feels like something that so few people know about. That opportunities are few and far between. That the market — even the world — seems out of sync with what you write and create?

Today, I want to encourage you to step into your creative identity with bravery. To celebrate your unique creative voice. And to share that voice from a place of deep authenticity because it truly matters to you, and likely, will matter to someone else.

In working with writers for more than 20 years, I feel that one of the biggest things that stand in the way of a writer developing a public identity and sharing is this: social fear. Why? Because choosing to share opens ourselves up to judgement. Or we worry that nothing we share can adequately communicate the depth of our work. Or we fear that we will share and people simply won’t care.

Is it a risk to share? Yes. But I think that risk is worth taking.

What does it feel like to step into your creative identity?

So many people try on the roles of “writer” or “artist” or “creator,” as if it is this article of clothing, like a smock that magically allows you embody that role when you have it on, but then the identity slips away when you take it off. It becomes a hidden aspect of yourself, one that you try to squeeze into your life, between all the other activities and responsibilities which often crowd out your creativity. So many people who write and create only discuss it with those around them if the perfect moment comes up, where they feel it is safe and welcome, where validation feels completely accessible.

Stepping into creative identity with bravery means honoring that place deep inside you that calls you to write and create. It is the recognition that your creative work matters. It is acknowledging that someone may be moved by what you create, that it may be the respite they need in an otherwise overwhelming day.

In embracing your creative identity more fully, you learn to talk more easily and eloquently about not just what you create, but why it matters so much. You find that there is more to say than you ever thought possible, and that it triggers conversations that other people want to have.

It means not waiting for permission or validation from others. Not caring if something you share gets any ‘likes,’ or not. You are stepping off the sidelines, and not waiting for others around you share about creativity first, to make it “safe.” It means not hiding in doing the minimum to share your work, or relying on widely accepted “best practices” as the only way to live this identity.

Simple ways to talk about your creative work

What does stepping into your creative identity look like on a practical level? Well, it doesn’t have to be complicated. You don’t have to be polarizing, you don’t have to seek out the spotlight, and you don’t have to be self-promoting.

The first step, of course, is to simply write and create. Then, casually mention that to those around you. Talk about your process with nuance, helping to focus people on the journey, not the destination.

I mean, how often have you heard your favorite singer or actor answer a question with a depth that moved you. Maybe the interviewer says something that focuses only on the destination: “Do you think the movie will do well at the box office?” Then the actor slows it down and redirects in their answer. They say something like, “It’s funny. For this role, I had to spend 6 months preparing for the character. Some of that was research for historical accuracy, but I also worked diligently with a voice coach to get the accent just right. When this movie comes out, my hope is that someone in the audience sees a bit of themselves in this character. That it gives them a moment of hope. I can’t control what happens at the box office, but I work really hard to try to encourage that special moment to happen on screen, on that will truly move someone in the audience.”

An answer like that isn’t just avoiding the question. It is bringing people into the process. It is showing layers of depth. It is reflecting on the power of cinema. Plus, it is all very honest and direct.

For your own work, be open to telling stories of where you are in the process, because people often don’t know. So when someone you know says, “When is your book coming out?!” instead of shrinking away, help them understand the process. For instance, “So I’m finishing up a chapter, and then I have to write a query letter to literary agents. Those are the people that will help me present my book to publishers. My goal is to start reaching out to agents on March 1st. I’m kind of excited and kind of terrified. Honestly, the process to even get a publisher can easily take a year.”

This isn’t just about educating people on the process, it is about preparing for the next conversation. That if the same person asks about your writing a month from now, they aren’t confronting you with the same question of “So! When is your book coming out!” They know to ask about agents, they understand the timeline. This also allows you to go deeper with them about the creative process.

Now, it’s common for writers and creators to be nervous about sharing about their creative work with family, friends, colleagues, and neighbors. They worry about judgement, impostor syndrome, and so much else. So why am I encouraging this? Well, one way to consider this is through Bronnie Ware’s “Top 5 Regrets of the Dying.” As a palliative caregiver, these are the regrets she heard again and again from those who were near life’s end:

1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

2. I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.

3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

To me, so many on this list are about celebrating your unique creative voice. They are reasons to feel good about sharing about your writing and creative work, and why it matters.

Are You Building Connections, or Building Walls?

Stepping into one’s identity is not just about stated values, it is about how you connect with the world and develop relationships. With social media changing so much, I see so many people leaving different networks. Which, of course, is fine. But what I consider is this: how else are you building connections?

When things change, sometimes we can react by closing down. By doing less. By becoming more suspect. Then building higher walls around ourselves because we are surprised that something we invested in is changing in a way we don’t like.

The justifications, of course, are sound: to feel safe, to feel protected, to diminish that which scares us.

Something I spend a lot of time considering and acting on: how can I develop meaningful connections and collaborations. The realities of this are often rather simple, but deeply meaningful. For instance, it may be a choice to schedule a long conversation with a friend, instead of endlessly scrolling online. Or reaching out via email or direct message to tell someone I admire their work, instead of simply clicking “like.”

When we leave a social network, we separate from those we knew there. Are you reaching out to them in other ways, even via email, direct messages, phone, or in person? Are you finding a way to honor and continue those relationships in a new manner?

We have the opportunity to dream it all up again

One of the most radical shifts I’ve ever seen in music is the transition that U2 made from their work in the 1980s, to that in the 1990s. Now, you may not like U2, or you may not like Bono, but I think this story matters, so please be patient with me if you aren’t a fan.

The band played a few final shows at the end of 1989 before a lengthy break. In their hometown of Dublin, they played on December 30th and 31st, 1989, and Bono gave a few hints at a radical shift they were embarking on:

"Here she comes, the future. Forget about the past, we're going to celebrate the future… The only limits are the limits of our imagination. Dream up the kind of world you want to live in. Dream out loud, at high volume… This is the end of something for U2, we have to go away and dream it all up again."

After being earnest musicians focused on important issues, they switched to being glitzy provocateurs. They didn’t slowly wade into these waters, they unleashed it. I was a college radio DJ in 1991 when an early copy of their album Achtung Baby arrived. It was eye-opening and mesmerizing, a total departure from how I knew them before.

If you look at the photo of Bono above, maybe you see a famous and wealthy guy, someone who is brash and overconfident. But in that moment and the year that followed, he and the band took an enormous creative risk. Bono later reflected on that period of reinvention:

“You have to reject one expression of the band first, before you get to the next expression. And in between you have nothing. You have to risk it all.”

When you are in the middle of a creative threshold, it can feel terrifying. As you cast away the safety of the life you knew, it can feel vulnerable. It would be reasonable to consider slowing down and waiting, to opt for inaction.

But what I have been considering is that in period of transition, there is possibility — the potential to create and share what truly matters to you. To connect with those who inspire you and support the themes that light you up. To develop your voice and share your work in a manner that truly connects with people.

As things change, what if is this is an opportunity for each of us to dream it all up again? To look at change with intention, instead of reaction. To make a radical shift, one that is more honest and direct, where you step into your unique creative voice with bravery.

This past week I started my Creative Shift Mastermind group, getting to know the writers and creators who joined. It has felt sooooooo wonderful having this private space to focus on doubling down on our creative work. To share and collaborate day by day. I’m seeing new connections form, and we are going deep into getting clarity on each person’s creative goals. It’s a process that asks difficult questions about our assumptions, and how we can achieve what we hope to. But that is the work. To show up, to collaborate, to make progress each week. And doing it together feels kind of magical. (You can sign up for the early interest list for the next session in May here.)

I work with writers because I am deeply inspired by those who take the risk to create. To tell stories — real or otherwise — that matters to them, and likely, to others.

Books occupy this wondrous place in our culture, and those who write and publish them are stepping out into the light in a way that is inspiring and terrifying. One of my biggest core beliefs is to celebrate that each of us have a unique creative voice.

At a time of transition when it can feel right to play it safe, to do less, to close down and protect, I encourage you to do the opposite: to step into your creative identity with bravery. To develop your unique creative voice, and connect with those who will be inspired by it.

Please let me know in the comments: what do you think the greatest positive outcome of sharing your voice and your writing or creative work could be?

For my paid subscribers this week I shared a mini-case study on how to craft an online presence that reflects your writing and creative work, and feels authentic to who you are. You can view a preview of it here, or become a paid subscriber.

Thank you for being here with me.
-Dan

Kids of the Week: the little fella’s more modern typewriter broke, so I gave him a 1949 Royal typewriter. This is him all weekend, working on writing a newspaper: