How I’m actually writing the book

People sometimes ask how I’m writing the book in practice.

The honest answer is that it’s a portfolio - or more truthfully, a mish‑mash - of different styles, timings, places, and tools.

The basics matter more than anything else: wearing comfortable clothes, feeling hydrated, eating well, and a sensible amount of caffeine. I also try to deal with any big issues or problems elsewhere in my life as best I can, so they create less background anxiety and fewer distractions.

I have an office where I can write. I spent a bit of time making it feel welcoming, not just functional: a plant or two, a good chair, an infuser (yes, really), and a desk away from the kit I use for calls and podcasts. I turn off social media most of the time.

I also have a few favourite cafés where the coffee is decent, and there’s a nice vibe (avoiding toxic, privileged types with loud voices). It’s funny that I seem to be able to focus and work intensively even when it’s noisy around me. I also go to a museum or art gallery; I might write or just take it all in and see what thoughts emerge.

I usually need at least ninety minutes, ideally two hours, to immerse myself. Shorter windows are useful for fixing a sentence or capturing a thought, but deeper writing needs a runway. It takes time to re‑enter the argument, feel the shape of the chapter, and remember what the reader needs next. I might write for half a day, but that’s enough; it’s more about the quality of work than quantity.

I don’t write in one fixed way:

• I write directly into the manuscript, using my Mac.

• I scribble ideas on a pad. I like the physical connection with paper.

• I draw systems diagrams to see how the ideas connect.

• I talk ideas out loud while I walk and then transcribe them; movement often gives me a better, deeper, or simply different perspective – and helps regulate my emotions.

Client work also feeds the writing. A conversation might give me a phrase, a tension, or an example that sharpens an idea. I also test ideas in real situations. I couldn’t write this book by cutting myself off from the real world; it has to stay current.

The crucial step is capture. I’ve lost too many good ideas by assuming I would remember them later. Now I record voice notes, dictate fragments, or come back and write immediately while the thought still has energy. I’m very disciplined about that.

I am also using AI as part of the process, carefully and in a bounded way.

The thinking, stories, arguments, judgement, and writing are mine. It’s my voice, experience, and style. At the same time, AI is useful in the background – to find and organise sources, spot repetition, challenge the logic, and visualise frameworks so I can see whether ideas connect in the way I think they do.

It helps with transcripts too. When I interview someone, a transcript lets me return to the conversation with more precision. AI can help identify themes, pull out salient points, and see patterns across multiple interviews while preserving the substance of what was said.

I am also learning to keep the AI toolkit small. There are countless tools now; exploring them all can become a project in its own right. I want AI to support the book, not become a parallel piece of work.

I’m realising that I write best when I keep changing the conditions around the work while staying committed to the work itself. A manuscript can grow stale if I only ever approach it in one way. It comes alive again when I move between drafting, walking, speaking, mapping, reading, editing, and testing.

There is also a skill in knowing when to stop, step away, do something else, and trust yourself – and the process – that something better will come.

What conditions help you do your best thinking?

P.S. I also record some of my reflections and share them here.

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