Dear friend,
A few weeks ago, I sat in the living room of my Airbnb in France, watching the cursor blink on an empty page.
For months, I told myself work was the reason I wasn't writing.
Now I was unemployed. No meetings. No deadlines. Just time—everything I thought I needed.
And yet, writing felt just as hard.
Which forced me to confront an uncomfortable question: Do I really want to write—or just like imagining myself as someone who does?
Most of us have something like this— a calling, or at least the idea of one. Something that feels tied to a meaningful life.
But if we keep finding reasons to avoid it, what does that say?
Unstructured time—whether a few idle hours or months of unemployment— has a way of telling the truth.
In the grind, it's easy to say, "I'll do that when I have more—time, energy, money."
Lately, I've wondered if that belief—that I'll be more capable later—is just a story I like telling myself.
I've started calling it the myth of the upward trajectory.
What if I'm not on a steady climb at all? What if I drift downward—toward ease, toward comfort—unless I fight for something higher?
Every day, I'm casting a vote for who I'll become. And when I put something off, it doesn't feel neutral—it feels like I'm teaching myself it's not important.
The opposite is true too: one small act today makes the next one easier.
Like a rocket burning most of its fuel to get off the ground, the hardest part is starting. But if I can break through, momentum will help carry me forward.
Maybe what matters most is not what we say we want, but what our days keep revealing.
Maybe saying I want to be a writer matters far less than writing—even for five minutes.
What would you change if you believed this: that what you do today is what you'll keep doing for the rest of your life?
A meaningful life rarely appears overnight. More often, it’s the result of quiet courage repeated every day—sitting down to do the thing, even when gravity fights you all the way.
I close the laptop now. Not because I've solved anything, but because I want to write again tomorrow.
I hope you’re well.
With love,
Ryan