Writing (and living) without a plan
When do you need to let go of the agenda?
Greetings from Bristol! This week, I packed up my life in London to return to a city that has always felt more like home. As such, I didn’t have time for much else…SO instead of the usual, longer Messy Work format, I thought I’d try something a little more spontaneous—because earlier this year, I made a vow that I’d publish something every other week, no matter what.
If you’re new here, check out the archives for more “traditional” posts. And if you’re not new, let me know how you feel about shorter, discursive rambles?! I’m always very conscious (read: self-conscious) of the delicate balance between writing stuff people want to read vs. writing stuff I want to write. So if things ever feel too self-indulgent, feel free to send me the digital equivalent of a slap round the face. And on that note, enough caveats…
I am someone who likes a plan. The tighter the brief, the clearer the objectives, the stricter the deadline, the better.
It’s a pretty innate quality, which shows up in different areas of my life, from bulldozing administrative tasks, to always needing to know what I am having for my next meal (see also: gluttony).
In work, it’s also the legacy of my former life as a generalist startup marketer, where, as much as I was encouraged to “embrace ambiguity”, I was slave to sprints, OKRs and project management software. Although that’s a career path I’ve evolved away from in pursuit of a more creative bent, it’s still a useful penchant to have in my current trade as a freelance copywriter.
Because actually, good copywriting is less about “creative flair” (and other clichés we were taught to stuff our CVs with), and more about getting the job done.
So it is that I’ve learnt to tame my propensity for verbosity and linguistic flourishes (this sentence being the exception 😉), whittle down my syntax into short, snappy clauses, and swap fluffy, flowery language for hard-working, action-oriented verbs that score high on the Flesch test. I know how to make headings scannable and CTAs punchy. I am a masochist for a character count limit.
Now, don’t get me wrong—I am amazed (and immensely grateful) that people pay me to write. Thank god I no longer have to pretend to understand spreadsheet formulas (just =LEN for life*).
But the problem with being a copywriter? It’s not always very helpful if you want to be a writer.
*This is an Excel joke.
The power of letting go of the plan
In my other trade as a coach, I run a 1:1 programme called Crossroads, which is designed for people who are navigating a transition in their lives and careers (and yes, the naming was directly influenced by the 2002 Britney rom-com).
Most of my clients are what I call recovering high achievers. A psychographic I know well, because I am one.
We high achievers are prone to planning like our life depends on it. Because, well, on a deeper level, it does: below the surface, we are usually driven by a fear of losing control. So we self-soothe with to-do lists, colour-coded calendars and thinking 100 steps ahead of everyone else (we’re fun, I promise).
These traits can be really positive—there’s a reason we’re called high achievers, after all.
But sometimes, they can lead us down a path that feels less life-affirming, and more life-draining…hence the “recovering” bit.
When we hit this wall (be it disillusionment with our careers, a relationship ending or a place no longer feeling like home), we often need to completely recalibrate our idea of “achieving” and hit the big ol’ reset button.
So although Crossroads is designed to help my clients move forwards and find a new direction, the magic usually happens when we abandon the plan. And rather than working towards “stretch” or quantifiable goals, we embrace the intangible or intentional. Striving less for things and instead articulating the feelings we want more or less of in our lives. Ease, integrity, joy. Negativity, resentment, overwhelm.
Every time I witness a client coming to this realisation, it reminds me of the power of letting go of the need to control.
What happens when we give ourselves the freedom to create—whether it’s art, or our lives as a whole?
One of the reasons I started this Substack was to liberate myself from the confines of writing professionally. I recognised that, while fantastic to spend my days doing something I love and be able to monetise it, my creativity was not going to be nurtured solely by the screen of my mobile banking app.
I pride myself on being able to adapt to different brand voices. But if I carried on shapeshifting, without any time for my own writing, I’d no longer remember what I sound like.
So my only “goal” for Messy Work was to keep plugging away. Committing to a bi-weekly schedule that holds me accountable and makes sure I actually sit down and type. With the freedom to write about whichever messy bits of life are calling me that week—from dating, to freelancing, to Christina Aguilera—and really lean into my voice, in all its sprawling sentences and lexical flexes.
Because you know what? At heart, I’m a nerd who bloody loves words. Stamping out some of the pretensions and conventions we learn in education (therefores, furthermores, semicolons, et al.) is good for making sure we are understood. And resonance is everything to me as a writer.
At the same time, the thought of stripping my writing—my voice—back to stock, plasticky essentials kinda hurts my soul (we have Chat GPT for that).
Substack: a lesson in self-expression
So many brands I work with are desperate to find their voice: a distinctive identity that will put them on the map (like Oatly or Innocent smoothies).
As I wrote about on LinkedIn, they’d only have to look to Substack writers for a lesson in personality. The range of registers, characters and genuine communities on here is a testament to the innately human need for self-expression, which—no matter how many mind-numbing TikToks we’ve watched or how exposed the internet can make us feel—is still very much alive and kicking.
That’s why I feel so at home on the platform. It’s allowing a movement of writers, many of whom have forgotten or hidden our identities as writers, to reclaim our voices, with all our quirks, eccentricities and imperfections.
We may still sweat at the thought of baring our souls for the world to see. But we hit “publish” anyway.
I think that’s really cool.
After two weeks in a frenzy of bubble-wrapping and vacuum-packing, moving all my worldly possessions to a new city, I didn’t have it in me to think of something clever or strategic to post today.
And so, inspired by the voices on this platform—in all their genius, rawness, fragility and honesty—I decided to just write.
No agenda. No script. No plan.
This post, originally scrawled in my notepad, was the result.
As I start a new chapter, leaving behind what is safe and familiar to venture into the relative unknown, I reckon this will be a pretty good “strategy” for living, too.
About me
If we haven’t met, I’m a freelance copywriter and qualified coach, (newly!) based in Bristol. Substack is primarily my space to write freely, work out what I think and hear what other people think about the messy work of life. Sometimes this is through a coaching psychology lens, but more often than not it’s simply through a personal and human lens. If you’d like to learn more about my copywriting or coaching services, drop me a message, stalk my LinkedIn or eagerly await my website, coming soon.
About you
I really love connecting with fellow writers and readers on here, so please drop me a comment if anything resonates/you’d like to share your work 🙂
As somebody who is also just discovering (or rediscovering) their voice, I have been so amazed by substack and the inspiration I keep getting in knowing that others are here too, just showing up for themselves.
Bravo and thank you for sharing your journey!
Lovely read - though the bit about recovering high achievers hit close to home!