The Manuscript That Sat in Digital Dust

Corporate Exit Diaries - Day 1
August 29, 2025

I opened my laptop today and there it was - "How to Be Corporate with Your Pants Down" - last modified March 24th, 2025.

Five months of digital dust.

The LinkedIn version of this story is about 52 minutes of breakthrough. The real version? Let me tell you about the mental gymnastics that happened before I even opened the damn file.

The Paralysis Spiral

Here's what nobody talks about when they give writing advice: sometimes the advice itself becomes the prison. I've been stuck in what I call the "expert advice trap" for months.

You know the one. You listen to a podcast about writing and they say, "You aren't Oprah, nobody cares that much about your life or story. Your book shouldn't be all about you, it should be for the reader." And suddenly, every authentic thing you want to write feels self-indulgent and worthless.

I'd sit down to work on my manuscript and hear that voice: This is just an autobiography. Who am I to think people care about my stories?

So I'd try to make it more "valuable" and "reader-focused." And you know what happened? My writing became robotic. Lifeless. I lost every ounce of the humor and honesty that made people want to read my stuff in the first place.

The irony? Some of my favorite business books ARE personal stories. Laura Belgray's "Tough Titties" is basically her life wrapped in marketing lessons. Shonda Rhimes' "Year of Yes" is entirely about her own transformation. Claudia Oshry's "Girl With No Job" built an empire on personal storytelling.

But somehow, I convinced myself I needed to follow the "rules."

The Clarity Breakthrough

Earlier this week, something shifted. I got clear on a new direction - documenting this whole transition from profitable-but-soul-crushing work to work that actually matters. No big announcements, no promises I might not keep. Just showing up and telling the truth about what it looks like to rebuild.

That clarity was like rocket fuel. For the first time in months, I wanted to write something.

But I still had to get past the "what comes next" paralysis. See, I don't have a neat beginning-middle-end mapped out for this book. I don't know how it ends. Hell, I'm not even sure what the middle looks like yet.

Every writing expert tells you to outline. To plan. To know your three-act structure before you write word one.

But you know what? I realized I don't actually learn that way. I learn by doing, by writing, by discovering what I'm trying to say as I say it.

The Warm-Up Ritual

So today, instead of overthinking the structure, I created a ritual to get my brain moving:

Step 1: Two minutes of Seth Godin's "This is Strategy" audiobook. Not because I needed strategy, but because his voice gets my wheels turning.

Step 2: Five minutes with writing prompt #173 from some creativity book I bought during a previous bout of procrastination. The prompt didn't matter - I just needed to move words around.

Step 3: Set a timer for 45 minutes and open the manuscript wherever it left off.

No grand plan. No outline review. Just: what comes next after the last thing I wrote?

What Actually Happened

I jumped straight into Chapter 9 - the one about loneliness and asking for help. Started with a story about my daughter riding her LED hoverboard through a Zoom meeting while I wasn't wearing pants. Classic "corporate with your pants down" material.

And something magical happened. My voice came back. The humor, the honesty, the "holy shit I can't believe I'm admitting this" energy that makes people want to keep reading.

For 45 minutes, I wasn't worried about whether this was "valuable enough" or "reader-focused enough." I was just telling a true story about what it's like to be a human trying to build something meaningful while life happens around you.

The Real Lesson

Here's what I learned today: sometimes you have to ignore the experts and trust what got you started in the first place.

All those podcasts about writing? They're helpful for some people. But they were killing my creativity because I was trying to write like someone else instead of writing like me.

My book isn't supposed to be a business manual. It's supposed to be an honest look at what it's like to be ambitious and scared and human all at the same time. The business lessons are there, but they're wrapped in real stories about real failures and real breakthroughs.

That's not self-indulgent. That's service. People don't need another list of "5 Tips for Entrepreneurial Success." They need permission to be messy and human while they're building something meaningful.

What's Next

Tomorrow, I'll probably face the same resistance. The same voice telling me I should have a better plan, a cleaner structure, a more "professional" approach.

But now I have evidence that the messy approach works. Fifty-two minutes of actual progress beats five months of perfect planning.

I'm documenting this whole journey - the manuscript progress, the business transition, the moments of clarity and the moments of complete confusion. Not because I have it all figured out, but because maybe watching someone figure it out in real time is exactly what someone else needs to see.

The value is in the story. The vulnerability is the service. The authenticity is what people need permission to embrace.

And if that's not "reader-focused" enough for the experts, well... they can write their own damn book.

This is part of my Corporate Exit Diaries - real-time documentation of finishing my book and transitioning from profitable work to passionate work. No roadmaps, no guarantees, just honest progress.