I didn’t grow up reading a ton.
It wasn’t until the end of college, and especially when I started working, that I realized books could teach me what school didn’t.

So I started reading. Not for a class. Not for a test. Just to understand things better.
And eventually, it became part of how I saw myself.

But I’ve always been curious about the person behind the writing.
What makes them different?
Are they really more disciplined than the rest of us?
Or did they just make this part of who they are?

The more I paid attention, the more I realized:
The people who stick with it aren’t the smartest or most talented.
They’re the ones who didn’t quit, because the work stopped being just something they do and started being part of who they are.

I used to think you had to be fearless to publish regularly.
But let’s be honest. We all want to feel seen.
We all want to know it’s worth it.

I’ve written and not hit publish more times than I can count.
Every time, I felt that tension, like I was letting myself down.
That’s cognitive dissonance: when your actions don’t match who you believe you are.

Eventually, I realized the only way through it was to become the kind of person who just… writes.
Not perfectly. Not always confidently. But consistently.

That’s the identity-behavior loop:
You show up → it becomes who you are → so you keep showing up.
It starts small, but it compounds fast.

Maybe you’re where I was, wanting to start but wondering if it’s too late.
Turns out, life experience makes for better stories.

You don’t need a perfect plan.
The brain doesn’t crave perfection. It craves progress.
A little momentum is enough to tip the loop.

And the irony? Even when you hit the milestones, the audience, the wins, it doesn’t feel like enough.
That’s the hedonic treadmill in action.

So I stopped chasing outcomes.
I focused on becoming the kind of person who shows up, no matter who’s watching.

Fall in love with the process.
Let it shape your identity.
The rest? The score takes care of itself.