Writing Without a Map: The Life of a Writer
Have you felt the pull to create without knowing why? In this series, I’ll be sharing the behind-the-scenes of writing and building something that still doesn’t have a clear form.
This is not one of my usual letters.
I had this epiphany while walking at 9pm. I suddenly started to think about the life of a writer, what it takes. What it really takes to receive a message, to write it, and then to share it.
While walking and letting my thoughts spiral… I took out my phone, started to record, and began speaking up. And just like that, I had a new letter.
I find this way much more natural. I let my heart and thoughts connect. There was no one I needed to impress. I simply allowed myself to let go.
And so this is a bit deeper. Not for everyone’s taste.
But it shows the life I believe every creative, writer, artist may experience.
The sacred weight of having something to say, and not always knowing why.
The Urgency to Write
Sometimes I feel this urgency. Like a message needs to come out at a specific time, because someone needs to hear it then. It’s not just a story I want to tell.
It’s something I feel I have to share. Like I’m a journalist. Like I’m carrying important news that needs to be delivered right now. Because if I don’t… someone might miss it. They might not cross over to the other side of what they’re meant to become.
There’s this pull in me. Like I need to get it out now. Because it’s meant for someone, it won’t let go of me until I let go of it.
I feel like the timing is everything.
I’ve started to realise: sometimes, when I share a message, I’m actually giving someone permission to dream. Just like my coach once gave me permission to take a different path. To choose a life I hadn’t been taught to imagine.
That’s what I want to pass on.
I want my writing to give others permission — to try, to move, to feel, to begin again.
Sometimes the message it’s for me. Other times, it’s for someone else. I never fully know who. But I know the feeling. I know when it’s time. So I deliver it. I write the words. I share the message.
Because this is the time. And maybe someone’s waiting for it.
I’m not writing just to write. I’m delivering something that someone might need in order to keep going. Or to remember who they are. Or to do the thing they were meant to do.
The Difference Between Sharing and Forcing
And when I follow that kind of intuition, when I follow that urge — things just come much easier. I don’t have to struggle with writer’s block the same way. It flows. Not because it’s always easy — some messages are hard to share, some are vulnerable or heavy or personal but because I’m not forcing it. I’m listening.
The blocks, if they come, come in the sharing. In the wondering what others might say. The fear of being misunderstood. But I’ve started to learn, I’m not writing for that person. I’m writing for the one who needs it.
That has helped me show up. I remind myself: it’s not about the one negative comment. It’s about the one person who will be helped. When I’m showing up with that urgency in mind, when I know this is a message that has to come through — I don’t have to overthink and I don’t have to outsource it.
I just write. I write from that place. I speak from that place. I trust from that place.
When You Can Feel the Source
Oddly enough, I can tell. I can always tell when someone else writes from that place too. When something’s been shared because it had to be and not because it was designed to go viral. You can feel the difference.
Again, it’s not that one motivation is bad and another is good but there’s a different energy. I feel that difference even in my own writing. I’ve written things that came from intuition and I’ve written others based more on research and structure. And to be honest, the intuitive ones connected more. They had ease to them. The others — the ones I tried to shape to fit — felt heavier. Less alive.
Checking the Heart of My Writing
So I’ve been learning to check myself more often: Why am I writing this?
Is it coming from a place of wanting to serve or from a place of wanting to be seen?
Is this about obedience… or achievement?
It’s such a thin line. So easy to slip over.
So I try to come back to the way I want to write. The way I want to live.
Writing Like Rain
I want it to come naturally. Watering what’s ready. I want to sit like a farmer waiting for the rain — not striving, not hustling but waiting with trust.
Because when the rain comes, the land knows what to do. The grass grows. The earth responds. It all happens in time.
Strength for the Slow Path
I’m realising to write that way and to live that way, I know I need to show up differently.
Stronger in conviction.
Stronger in listening to myself.
Stronger in understanding who I am and what I carry, and how much it costs to carry it with care.
And that strength needs to show up in how I spend my time, how I approach the blank page. I want to sit, to listen, to receive. And then write.
Not create from pressure, not copy what works for someone else.
Just… write what’s mine to write. Share what’s mine to share.
Writing without a niche
I do believe you need to have a focus. You don’t serve food to everyone, you serve those who are hungry. The ones who are paying attention to what they consume.
The ones who are willing to invest in something nourishing, something that lasts.
The ones who are willing to go the distance.
And yet… in my current writing, I don’t have a niche.
It goes against my marketing brain. It goes against everything I was taught.
It goes against the norm. If I had a niche, I’d probably make things much easier for myself. I could position better, plan content, pitch collaborations.
But I show up with this in mind, that I’m meant to share messages that won’t always fit the box.
Not because it will make me money. Not because it fits into a brand partnership.
Not because it checks all the boxes of a well-positioned online presence. But because I know someone needs it. And maybe only one person.
And no, I don’t know who that person will be.
It might be a woman struggling to create.
It might be a man in recovery.
It might be someone who just needs one small line to feel steady again.
And because of that, I can’t box myself in. I don’t have a niche. I don’t have a content strategy. I just have this alarm inside of me and it’s loud.
It tells me: Today, someone needs this message. Today, don’t delay.
So I write for the one.
And I leave the rest.
Letting Go of Control
And yes, I still wonder: How do you monetise something like this? Where does this path lead, when it doesn’t look like the others? I’m also learning to surrender that question. I’m trying not to limit how provision might come. Because I know that if I do my part, if I share what I’ve been given — then the impact, the outcome, the reaching… that’s not my job.
Because I know the universe won’t withhold anything good from me.
What’s meant to reach me will find me and what’s meant to flow through me must be shared.
And that’s why I’m still here.
Writing.
Listening.
Obeying.
Waiting for the rain.
Your turn
If you’re still reading, I’d love to know:
What does your own writing process look like?
Do you feel urgency sometimes — like a pull to get a message out, even if you don’t fully understand why yet?
I’m always curious how others experience this. Feel free to share — I’d genuinely love to hear.
Drop a comment. I read each one, and I reply with care.
I feel this.
I normally write from my own intuition most of the time. Even if some of things I say may not ring well with everyone, I know what I'm writing comes from my own soul and my own experience.
Whenever I feel that urgency inside, I immediately start writing it. If I'm at work, I'll do it on my phone. If I'm at home, I'll do it on my desktop.