When we think of the word fun, we think frivolous acts of non-work. However, I would venture to say that fun does equal productive work. Fun is worthy of our time. Fun is drawing us into our very own creativity, and we will produce our purpose and share this joy with others as much as we possibly can. Psychological studies have proven the productive value of fun.
Nine years ago I launched this blog. And each year, for the past nine years, I’ve been celebrating, congratulating myself, offering folks all sorts of discounts, free downloads, and the likes.
I think I wrote and published well over a million words by now. Probably even more. Who knows? Who cares?
After all, the blank page that I have to fill right now with words doesn’t care about my previous articles, short stories, or novels. All it cares is that I transform its emptiness into something worth someone’s time.
This is what being creative means: to turn the white page, the blank canvas, the empty document into something by sheer power of will, which is, at times at least, quite a painful process.
And don’t believe anyone who tells you that being creative can be effortless. They are trying to sell you something, whether it’s an e-book or e-course.
After nine years as a full-time blogger, and sixteen as a writer, I can tell you that there’s no shortcut for hard work.
That’s why today I’m sharing with you nine tips that… well… I’m not even going to pretend these tips are going to make the process effortless, but they are going to give you a bit of clarity, which I found to be extremely useful, especially when you’d much rather bang your head against your keyboard than struggle to string words together in a coherent manner.
In case you’ve missed it, this year I’m designing, building, and launching a new project every month, using mostly no-code or low-code tools and platforms.
In January, I’ve launched blogsy, a hybrid built in WordPress and Adalo. It’s still a work in progress, as I doing a complete overhaul of the platform that allows you to submit blogs and articles.
As a sidenote, that’s what I’ve decided along the way, that I’d allow myself to blend and refine , going back and forth and changing a lot of things.
For instance, what I launched as The Art of Marketing in February has become The Toolbox, a curated list of hundreds of resources for bloggers, marketers, and content creators, while The Art of Marketing became its own blog.
This month’s project became irevuo, a platform dedicated to helping modern polymaths connect seemingly unrelated dots and apply knowledge acquired from various disciplines in their own lives or creative endeavors.
Both The Art of Marketing and irevuo are built on Ghost, and I believe this requires a bit of an explanation, because I’ve been building and launching blogs on WordPress since 2012.
You get up two and a half million dollars, any asshole in the world knows what to do: you get a house with a 25 year roof, an indestructible Jap-economy shitbox, you put the rest into the system at three to five percent to pay your taxes and that’s your base, get me? That’s your fortress of fucking solitude. That puts you, for the rest of your life, at a level of fuck you. Somebody wants you to do something, fuck you. Boss pisses you off, fuck you! Own your house. Have a couple bucks in the bank. Don’t drink. That’s all I have to say to anybody on any social level.
John Goodman, The Gambler
Defined by some as being consumer-debt free and having at enough money in the bank to last you for at least six months with no money coming it, the notion of f#ck you money sounds quite appealing.
What’s the point of having f#ck you money? Well, besides the obvious, that you can say f#ck you whenever you feel like it, for any reason at all, there are a couple of added benefits to reaching this level of financial independence.
Last night, I was reading an article and stumbled upon an interesting statistic: the average woman kisses fifteen men during her life. I told my girlfriend that, and she asked me how many girls I had kissed.
To be honest, I’ve always thought it to be quite futile to count such things. Not that I find the pursuit of love to be trivial by any means. Quite the opposite. But what difference does it matter how many girls a man kisses? And if it does matter, why does it matter?