INTRODUCTION

Dear

Hello, you! I know you. You’re the one who wants to be a writer, aren’t you? No, hang on, you are a writer. That’s right! At least, you feel like you may be a writer, but you’re stuck or just starting out.

You want to write more, write better or write differently. You’re trying to find ways to stop procrastinating and feeling guilty about not writing. You want to get something done. Finished.

Sometimes you feel like you are possessed and you need an exorcist.

I know you! Welcome! I’ve been waiting for you.

I know you want to stop worrying about other people’s opinions and stop thinking your work isn’t good enough. To silence the voices in your head saying that if you write, everyone will hate you and laugh at you and you will feel as if you have wasted your time.

You want to regain your love of writing. You want to stop feeling overwhelmed and riddled with self-hatred. Most importantly, you want to write. You want to stop thinking about it, talking about it and avoiding it – and just do it.

You know writing makes you happy. But there are so many distractions – ‘Look! The internet!’ – and so many things you convince yourself you need to do first – ‘Look, the pantry needs cleaning.’ And you feel you have already wasted so many days that were full of promise.

Deep down, you know you need to write this thing – even if you don’t know what it is yet. You will hate yourself if you don’t. You will never forgive yourself.

Well, , I wrote this book for you.

Yes I did, . I love you, . You are my special snowflake.

*

I run these Gunnas Writing Masterclasses for ‘Gunnas’ – people who keep saying they are gunna write, but don’t. In my classes I get everyone from published writers to people who have not put pen to paper since they were thrown out of school in Year 8. On average, my Gunnas are 30% professional writers, 30% amateur writers, 30% beginners and 10% randoms. I get retired school-teachers who want to write memoirs, 21-year-old nerds with screenplays they’ve been dreaming about since they were eight, and PhD candidates who want to write children’s books. I get corporate writers longing to write erotica, bus drivers who want to get their drinking yarns down, 17-year-old singer-songwriters seeking to write better lyrics, English teachers who can get their students to write but can’t get themselves to, cabaret artists, stand-up comedians, multimedia developers, funeral directors and sculptors – all seeking a creative enema. I’ve taught dentists, accountants, stay-at-home mums, lawyers, pensioners, students, social workers, psychologists and owners of vintage clothing stores. Some of my Gunnas already write or create for a living; they come to my class because they want to write this other thing. They say, ‘I don’t know what it is but I need to get it out.’

Whether they know what they want to write or not, my Gunnas have one thing in common: they bite the bullet and have the audacity to turn up to a writing masterclass (which – when you think about it – is kind of like saying they think they might be a writer). Oh my god, the arrogance! Who do they think they are? A writer? How dare they! Who gave them permission to write? A shoe maker, sex therapist and helicopter pilot are some of the over 1000 Gunnas – scared to call themselves a ‘writer’ and frightened of what their writing might expose – who have walked into a room full of strangers and faced their fear of people laughing at them and exposing them as a fraud.

In my Gunnas Masterclasses no-one has to share their writing.

‘Say, what?’ I hear you splutter.

That’s right. No forced sharing. Why? Because it doesn’t matter what people say about your writing. It’s none of your business what they think of it. It’s none of your business what you think about it. It only matters that you write: that you go to sleep feeling good, instead of hating yourself for having wasted another day.

Write as if your parents are dead.

ANNE LAMOTT

This book will help you get over yourself. Because, let’s face it, that’s all you need to do. I am here to help you get out of your own way. I will teach you how to ignore the voices, distractions, fear and guilt. By the time you have finished this book, you will know how to avoid the time wasting, obstacles and roadblocks that arise when you sit down to write. Use Your Words will teach you everything I know about writing, and a bit about life. With some irrelevant anecdotes. And probably some gratuitous swearing. Enjoy!

*

I forbid you to do any writing while you read this book. If you think of things you want to write, jot the ideas down on a piece of paper and get stuck into them once we’re finished. For now, let yourself off the hook. (You’re welcome!)

Turn off all your devices, find a cosy spot and let’s get cracking. We don’t have much time. But we have enough.

*

Why did I write this book? It’s very simple. I can’t bear the thought of people dying with their music – their words, their dreams, their art, their voices, their true self – still inside them.

The function of freedom is to free someone else.

TONI MORRISON

‘Write the book you want to read,’ people say. I hear that. I’m on it. Use Your Words is what I wanted to read when I was starting out and when I was stuck.

I’ve authored seven books – this is my eighth – contributed to dozens more, written over 1000 newspaper columns, performed hundreds of stand-up comedy gigs, been on television a bazillion times, radio twice as often, been named this, called that and accused of everything. Whatever it is that I had to prove to whoever it was for whatever reason – it’s done.

I am free.

I’m not telling you this to brag. I didn’t say my books, gigs and performances were any good. My point is I completed them. I’m lazy, not that bright and don’t have much talent. Ask anyone. I’ve written through garden-variety poverty, crippling depression, cancer, raising children and the lacerating pain of several broken hearts. I’ve written in cars, while breastfeeding at playgrounds, in airport lounges, cafes and toilets, and while looking after six kids under seven during school holidays.

If I can get stuff done, so can anyone. So can you. If you want to.

I’m here not through talent or luck, but simply because I kept going. When I thought what I was writing was shit, I kept writing regardless. I wrote so I could finish whatever it was and then hopefully get on and write the next thing – which, fingers crossed, wouldn’t be as shit. Before I knew it, a project was finished. Then I wrote the next thing. Bit by bit, I got better. And stronger. The more you do, the more you do. The more I did, the more I did. Writing is a muscle.

More often than not, if I’d known how easy a project would be and how much pleasure I’d get out of it, I would have got cracking on it much earlier. Most things are 80% easier than you think they will be.

I finished stuff.

I started stuff and then I finished stuff. That’s it. That’s my secret! I’m a completionist, not a perfectionist. Join me.

The actual writing is easier than you think. It’s dealing with the emotional stuff around the writing that’s tough. But I’ll give you some reality pills to help you handle it. I’ll bust the myths.

Don’t let stupid voices in your head – you know: the ones saying you’re no good, it can’t be done – oh, look, a shiny thing on the internet! – keep you stuck. We all hear those voices! Yes. Every single writer, artist and creator hears those voices. The only difference between getting That Thing done and not getting That Thing done is telling those voices to bugger off because you’re busy.

It would be a tragedy if your life were to end without you ever having sung from your heart. Don’t let that happen. You have one life. Live it your way.