The Difference Between Good Writing and Extraordinary Writing

Writing is easy.

If you know words, you can type words.

Good writing — the type of writing that influences people — is harder.

There’s another type of writing:

The type of writing that moves people, that makes people feel something burn in the depths of their souls.

The best writing holds space for the reader to have their own experience, to heal a part of themselves they previously couldn’t access.

This is the writing I want to put out in the world.

Writing that makes you feel.

Writing that helps you find that place inside yourself that you didn’t even know existed and that, once you find it, changes everything.

That kind of writing is not a game of words and sentences.

It’s not a game of linear lessons.

It’s not a game of pure, traditionally-taught writing skills.

This is a different game.

It’s a game of no hiding.

A game of no self-censoring.

It’s a courage game.

This type of writing requires an unmasking.

It requires a willingness to speak and reveal my truth.

Let’s be clear: this type of writing is heavy lifting.

(That’s one reason I start my process in the gym.)

This writing doesn’t come from the head.

It’s a heart game.

That’s the meaning of courage. From the heart.

This writing requires training the nervous system to feel safe in the sharing of the things that matter most.

It requires being willing to speak about things that might upset people, things that people don’t want to talk about.

I’ve had moments when I’ve allowed myself to ship this kind of writing. But too often over the past 5 years, I’ve self-censored and over-edited.

I’ve taken myself out of my writing to make it less personal. I’ve tempered my topics to make them more universal, more intellectually accessible.

That doesn’t serve anyone.

The best writing doesn’t appeal to everyone. It speaks to specific people.

The best writing doesn’t target the mind; it targets the heart.

It inflames, angers, triggers, soothes, reassures. It shows you where you’re wounded and helps you feel held so you can heal.

This is the writing I want to do.

Sometimes I do this. But not often enough.

After five years of daily shipping, this is my next challenge.

Not just to write, but to reveal.

To come out of hiding.

To allow myself to be seen in challenges and triumphs.

To share the struggles and the pain and how I’ve worked through my own healing.

Here’s the truth: other people’s lessons don’t always serve us well. We need to learn our own lessons in our own way.

What we need, individually and collectively, is space for healing, spaces to feel seen.

I want my writing, this corner of the internet, this space, to be that type of space.

Otherwise it’s just a collection of words.