Find your cohort. The generous ones.
I’m writing my second book. The work is underway. I’ve spent so many days (over 1,000) writing short blogs before work and in between meetings, that it’s a unique challenge for me to dig into long writing sessions first thing in the morning for this book. Even my first book was written through a series of short writing sessions (which is part of the reason why the chapters are so short).
I’m encountering a new kind of resistance with this project. It’s so personal to me, and I’ve carved out longer writing sessions in my day. This week so far has felt a little lonely. Luckily, this morning I read an interesting story in Seth Godin’s book The Practice that encouraged me. I’ll copy it below in its entirety. Enjoy.
Robert Caro, author of some of the most important biographies of the twentieth century, almost didn't finish his first magnum opus, The Power Broker. He had quit his job as a reporter, taken a modest advance, and moved his family to a tiny apartment. Year after year, he trudged through the book, writing more than a million words, but the end was never in sight.
In 1975, he wrote a poignant story for The New York Times describing his despair at the time. He knew no writers. He had little or no support from his friends, his publishers, anyone. And then ... he was given a key to a back room at the New York Public Library. Only eleven writers had keys, and each was given a desk at which to write.
He explains:
Then one day, I looked up and James Flexner was standing over me. The expression on his face was friendly, but after he had asked what I was writing about, the next question was the question I had come to dread: "How long have you been working on it?" This time, however, when I replied, "Five years," the response was not an incredulous stare.
"Oh," James Flexner said, "that's not so long. I've been working on my Washington for nine years." I could have jumped up and kissed him, whiskers and all—as, the next day, I could have jumped up and kissed Joe Lash, big beard and all, when he asked me the same question, and, after hearing my answer, said in his quiet way, "Eleanor and Franklin took me seven years." In a couple of sentences, these two men— idols of mine—had wiped away five years of doubt.
Find your cohort. The generous ones.
