Not so long ago I turned down a book proposal with what we might objectively call a huge platform. In terms of promotional potential, it was the full package: socials, stage events, a solid vision for launch strategy, high-profile supporters.
Building anything of this scale takes an incredible amount of work and creativity of its own kind, and I’m not here to knock that. But as far as book publishing goes, this particular pitch was missing what I value most as an editor: a distinctive voice supporting a distinctive angle. In the end, I passed.
This kind of scenario happens on the regular in my line of work. And I want to talk about it today to encourage you in your writing practice.
If you are a writer who’s worried about how your words will ever break out beyond the noise, if you feel the anxiety of rapidly accelerating AI, if you’ve ever felt the stomach drop of seeing another writer start leaning into what feels like your particular beat, please hear me out:
I know you feel the scarcity, and that’s real. But from this editor’s desk, I’m here to tell you that the more our world is saturated by paint-by-numbers “content,” the more an original idea stands out.
Candidly, I’m tired. I’m tired of the world salad. I’m tired of the talking points. I’m bored out of my mind by the reheated leftovers the algorithms serve us up every day. It might get clicks but it doesn’t carry staying power and that is the genius of books.
What I’m hungry for is creativity that takes risks. Give me the human texture over empty template every day. In an era when every sentence starts to sound the same, it’s the odd duck that I’m after.
And I worry that the oversaturation of “content” is draining our human creativity, as we become acolytes of the algorithms, forever studying “what’s working” and what’s trending in an endless effort to keep up. I worry that we’re losing our creative way.
And so, a modest proposal: what if you let this summer be your summer of rewilding?
If your voice is the center of your creative power, it is strengthened not by imitating others and conforming to the flavor of the day, but by coming into its own. In adolescence, we come of age. In the creative life, perhaps it’s not so much a coming of age, but a coming of authenticity, and the path is the way of rewilding.
Rewilding is a conservation effort intended to protect an ecosystem and support a return to its natural state. It’s letting the land rest from the grind of human intervention. Our language has much to learn from the rewilded land, liberating itself from imposed structures and programs, returning to relaxed authenticity.
Rewilding requires the exacting trust of letting go and letting be. You have to remove the human impositions and let the earth grow as she likes. If you are rewilding a garden, you are no longer in charge of the plot. If you are rewilding language, releasing the plot can be a terrifying proposition!
Rewilding carries inherent risk. That’s what makes it ultimately so rewarding. In contrast, artificial intelligence will only ever play it safe—to what is most certain to work, perform, convert.
AI can get the job done. But it will never earn underlines like your words can. It’s when we go off book, off-plot, that things start to get interesting.
For the writer who feels the scarcity of wondering if their words will ever be heard as they deserve, here are some ways to start rewilding toward an authentic voice that is wholly your own.
First, take whatever draft you’re working on now. If you can, print it out and take it for a picnic. Lay in the grass, take your shoes off, and spend a moment watching the sunlight move through the leaves before you begin.
Read it once at face value.
Read it twice for a gut check on where you’ve imposed non-native rules. Underline or mark these spots.
Read it thrice for a gut check on where you’ve held back. Insert ^ where you note the urge to say more.
Finally, ask yourself gently: If I weren’t afraid of what other people would think, what would I actually say? Listen to your authentic voice. Become her scribe. Write it down.
There’s something powerful about getting analog and rewriting with our hands, pen, and paper. The more of a mess you make of your draft, the better. This is your time. Let your voice lead without self-editing.
You learned the imitation game, it’s never too late to unlearn it. You took notes on how to style your sentences for likes, how to deliver the punchline for the best laughs, how to package your stories in the most palatable way.
I’m a big believer of becoming a student of what works, but never to override voice, and there’s a difference. To come into your own, you have to release your creative conditioning and come back to your core.
So don’t hold back.
Go there, and go deep.
Release the impulse to apologize for your depth, your opinion, the authority of your lived experience.
Let yourself be “too much” (you’re not).
Let yourself say the quiet part out loud, and drop the caveats and disclaimers.
Burn the templates, chuck the rulebook, and follow your gut.
This is your rewilding. It is also your path to original, memorable, neuron-crackling creative voice and vision. AI could never, and we all know it.
This summer, may you let the green rise up in surprising places.
Let the blooms subvert concrete and lift their heads through the cracks.
May you find the creative courage you need to release the plot and let growth happen where it wants to happen.
May you step into the peace of letting the natural life cycle complete itself unto death and decomposition, into renewed soil.
As you go deep, drop the apologies, and come into your authenticity, may you experience the joy of the earth’s self-renewing, creative energy on your side.
Take it from Howard Thurman if not from me:
“The sound of the genuine is flowing through you. Don’t be deceived and thrown off by all the noises that are a part even of your dreams (and) your ambitions that you don’t hear the sound of the genuine in you. Because that is the only true guide you will ever have and if you don’t have that you don’t have a thing. Cultivate the discipline of listening to the sound of the genuine in yourself.”
Make no mistake: in a world of copy+paste imitation, the future belongs to those who have tuned into “the sound of the genuine” and speak with distinctive voice from that authentic core.
Take heart and stay feisty,
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