For almost 15 years of my life, I tried to make a habit of writing fiction every day. Fiction writing is not only something I love to do, it’s something I know I’m meant to do.
But it was a habit I avoided like Covid (too soon?)
I tried so hard to do it every day, but somehow, everything else just became more important and more of a priority. This happened over and over again.
Until the day I finally got it. Like fully got it.
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So for the last month, I’ve been writing out my belief statements twice a day—right when I first wake up and right before I go to sleep. One of those statements I write is: I receive tons and tons of automated income every single day with total ease.
This morning, it dawned on me that I have nothing set up in my business right now that could bring in automated income.
Why did it take me a month of writing that belief over and over again to finally have this realization?
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In early 2016, I committed to working on my writing for a minimum of 15 minutes per day.
I meant it. I knew it was time to finally create a habit around being a writer, and more specifically, being an author.
I chose 15 minutes because that’s about how long I’m able to focus on something, undistracted, until my mind starts to wander and I need a quick break. Fifteen minutes didn’t feel like a lot of time, but I just chose to believe it would be enough to build a habit and maybe even get me somewhere in my writing life.
Since then, I’ve written and published 13 books (fiction and nonfiction). I’ve added hundreds of thousands of words to my blog. And I’ve written a handful of first drafts that are a revision away from being publishable.
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Last year at this time, I was getting clearer on the realization that it was time to put an end to my previous business. I’d been doing it for almost a decade and I was burned out, over it, and finally ready to do what my soul was calling me to do.
I had been a writing coach and book editor for most of my business. It was what people knew me for. It was what I had made most of my income from.
But in my heart of hearts, I knew it wasn’t right for me.
There was a time when it actually was right for me and where it served me to do it. But that time had long passed.
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When a story idea comes to me, it pops into my head like a bolt of inspiration, seemingly out of nowhere.
The details then begin unfolding in my mind’s eye, like I’m watching it on a movie screen.
I can feel an energy rising up through my body as if it has awakened something deep inside of me. Like this story has always been a part of me.
Like it’s a part of my soul.
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