You have likely had others tell you that “your book matters.”
And maybe you were a bit suspicious. Maybe you uttered under your breath, “How do you know that? You don’t even know what my book is about!”
Fair enough.
However, I feel that saying “your book matters” is simply an incomplete thought. The more complete one is that it matters because you matter.
What you’ve lived.
What you’ve endured.
What you’ve overcome.
Who and what you’ve loved.
What you’ve learned.
How you’ve touched others’ lives.
What you are here to share . . .
It all matters.
I would also say that it matters in ways we can’t fully comprehend when we attempt to understand it through our human lens. But I think it’s safe to say that there never has been—and never will be—anyone quite like you.
For so many of us, the painful belief that we don’t matter—not that much anyway—is at the root of so many of our struggles.
It’s a sly belief—often extremely subtle. We may never say those exact words to ourselves: I don’t matter. But it can show itself in the choices we make, the behaviors we engage in, the patterns we tolerate in ourselves and others, and the opportunities we turn away from. For some of us, it reveals itself in the love we don’t allow ourselves to give or receive.
Often, “I don’t matter” walks hand in hand with painful beliefs like these:
I’m not good enough.
I’m a failure.
I’m not worthy.
I’m not valuable—nor valued.
I’ve missed the boat. It’s too late for me.
As for us writers and creatives, when it rears its head, it can sound like this:
Hasn’t someone already written this book anyway?
I don’t have enough credentials to write this book.
I don’t want to be a voice of authority; I just want to share what I know.
Beneath all of these thoughts is often some version of the same painful fear: Maybe I don’t matter enough. Maybe my voice doesn’t matter enough. Maybe my story, experience, or perspective isn’t significant enough to take up space.
But that has never, ever been true.
It’s only a pattern of thinking and feeling that belongs to the past.
And it’s safe to say that every one of us writers wants to be free from this limiting belief—or at least have it back off a bit. We want it to quiet down. Settle down. Take up less oxygen in the room.
And one of the most effective ways I know of to liberate ourselves in this way is to . . . (drum roll, please) . . .
Write your book.
Do it anyway—even when the voices of doubt, fear, and limitation show up. Write anyway.
And let your book be your medicine.
In the courses and coaching containers that Kristine and I offer, we inevitably talk about writing a book as a transformational journey. And this conversation is one example of why.
Because somewhere along the way, writing a book asks us to do something many of us have avoided for years: pay close attention to our own lives.
It asks us to slow down long enough to listen to ourselves. To make meaning of our experiences. To bring clarity to what we’ve learned. To tell the truth as honestly as we can. To become more courageous, more authentic, and more willing to be seen.
And in the process, something unexpected often happens.
The book changes us.
Not because we’ve become famous, successful, or even published. But because we’ve spent months—or years—honoring something within ourselves that felt worthy of expression.
Each page becomes a small act of remembering.
Remembering that our experiences matter.
That our insights matter.
That our voice matters.
That we matter.
Over time, some of the old doubts may still visit, but they often lose their authority. They become quieter. Less convincing. Less able to dictate what we create and what we share.
And perhaps that’s one of the greatest gifts of writing a book.
Not simply that it reaches others. But that it helps us come home to who we really are.
With you on the writing path,
Debra
P.S. If you’ve been carrying a book idea for a while but find yourself circling the same questions, doubts, or false starts, you’re not alone.
Sometimes the next step isn’t more information.
It’s simply getting unstuck long enough to hear what the book is trying to become.
We’ve created something for writers standing in exactly that place.
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