The One Reinvention Tool That Changed Everything
The 10-minute writing practice I use when I need to get past my first answer.
I’m really very good at thinking.
Give me any given situation and I can analyse the absolute shit out of it.
I can look at it from twelve different angles. Consider the consequences. Work out what everybody else might think. Explain why something is a brilliant idea and, approximately seven minutes later, give you an equally convincing explanation for why it’s a terrible one.
Maybe you can too.
And sometimes all that thinking is useful.
Sometimes it’s also the very thing keeping us from the answer we already have.
That’s when I use this.
Because sometimes I just need to stop giving myself enough time to edit my own answers.
IT’S RIDICULOUSLY SIMPLE.
Choose a question.
Set a timer for ten minutes.
Put your pen on the page.
And write.
Don’t stop.
Don’t go back to make a sentence sound better.
Don’t cross something out because it sounds ridiculous.
Don’t worry about grammar.
Don’t start explaining why the thing you’ve just written isn’t practical.
And definitely don’t start writing for an imaginary audience who might one day discover your notebook and judge you.
Nobody is marking it.
Just keep the bloody pen moving.
The first few sentences may be exactly what you’d expect.
That’s fine. Keep going.
Because eventually you start running out of the answers you’ve already rehearsed.
And that’s where it can get super interesting.
You write something you weren’t expecting.
Something you’ve never quite phrased that way before.
Something that makes you put the pen down when the timer finishes and think:
Oh.
Fuck.
There it is.
WHY I STILL USE THIS
I’ve changed a hell of a lot since I first discovered this practice.
My life has changed. My work has changed. I’ve changed.
And yet I still come back to it.
Because being self-aware doesn’t suddenly make you immune to your own bullshit.
If anything, sometimes it just makes you considerably better at explaining it.
I use this when I’m weighing up a decision.
When I can’t work out whether I genuinely don’t want something or I’m frightened of it.
When something I’ve wanted for years suddenly doesn’t feel right anymore.
When I know I’m editing what I want before I’ve even admitted it to myself.
When I’m making a seemingly logical decision but something about it doesn’t sit right.
Or when I can feel there’s something I know but I’m doing an absolutely spectacular job of not knowing it.
Ten minutes. Pen. Paper. Keep going.
That’s it.
I’VE GIVEN YOU FIVE PLACES TO START.
Inside the free guide you’ll find five prompts.
Some might do absolutely nothing for you.
One might make your stomach turn over slightly.
Start with that one.
They include:
If I was brutally honest about what I want next, I’d admit…
The version of me I’m scared to be is…
The rules I’ve been following that no longer serve me are…
The current guide also includes those prompts, alongside two others.
And if you’ve arrived here after Be You Now because we started with “The version of me I’m scared to be is…” in the room, this is your opportunity to take that work further.
ONE IMPORTANT THING BEFORE YOU START.
What comes out of your pen is information. Not instruction.
If you write: I want to sell my business and move to New York.
Please don’t email your accountant and book a one-way flight before the timer goes off!
You don’t have to act on everything you write.
You don’t have to agree with everything you write.
And you certainly don’t have to blow up your life because something dramatic appeared on page three.
We’re interested in what’s there.
What surprised you?
What keeps appearing?
What did you immediately want to cross out?
What made you uncomfortable?
What felt like relief?
What have you written that you’ve never quite allowed yourself to say before?
That’s where the interesting stuff is.
YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THE ANSWER YET.
This matters a lot.
Because we’re very quick to go from: What do I want?
Straight into: How the fuck would I make that happen?
And sometimes the how kills the answer before we’ve even allowed ourselves to have it.
So for ten minutes, don’t solve it.
Don’t make it realistic.
Don’t turn it into a SMART goal.
Don’t ask whether your partner will like it, whether the market is ready or whether you’ve got enough money.
Answer first.
There’ll be plenty of time for everything else afterwards.
READY?
Grab the guide.
Choose your question.
Set your timer.
And don’t stop when you’ve written the answer you already knew.
Keep going until you get past it.