Howdy, Creator.

First things first: I’m doing a little virtual event next month with my friend Ray, sharing how I helped him get a $150,000 book deal with a major publisher. In that seminar, we’ll share with you everything I’ve learned about writing a great book proposal, what it takes to get the big publishers to pay attention to you, and how to turn a good idea into a bestseller. The early bird discount expires this Friday. You can learn more at prosperouswriter.com.

Last week, in case you missed it, I shared my thoughts on personal branding and my own evolution as a “brand.” The short of it is that I think brands are helpful when they help us see a bigger picture. But they become cumbersome and unhelpful when we believe we are that brand. When we attach to the story we’ve sold the world. That’s a problem.

This week, we are continuing the conversation with Ray Edwards. Ray and I just finished writing a book about his battle with Parkinson’s and belief and how he ultimately found a better version of himself hiding within a horrible disease. In this episode we talk about an identity beyond the brand, on how to become fully human—in the midst of your pain and success, your love and confusion, all of it. Listen in here.

The question I am exploring these days is:

Who am I beyond all the stories I tell about myself?

The answer, of course (I think), is me. But what is me? Who am I? And why do I keep changing? What is this mystery called myself, and how can I ever possibly contain it?

I started this journey of writing to become someone. Jeff Goins, Writer (with a capital “W”). Bestselling author. Successful human. But after attaining to possess each of the monikers I sought, I was left feeling a little empty each time.

Why was that?

It turned out it wasn’t me who was empty but rather the idea that was supposed to contain what I am. The name. The brand. The concept. Or rather, it just didn’t completely fulfill me. And how could it? How could the thing I created—even if it was an identity—come to define me? The creation can never fully contain the creator. There is always more.

I am always more than I could ever do. So are you. We are always more than we could ever be, never quite done becoming. I think we all understand this on some cognitive level. But to really experience it is profound. It’s like going to bed a caterpillar and waking up a butterfly.

My experience of transitioning from author to ghost writer has been one of those exercises. As I’ve shed my old identities, all the things that I thought would complete me (and didn’t), it has been freeing to feel like I could be anything. If I really wanted to be.

It’s been five years since I’ve written “my own” book, and yet, I’ve helped create half a dozen books these past few years. And every one of them has a piece of me in them. But they have each required something of me I didn’t know how to give—until I showed up and committed to the task of making something I didn’t know how to create.

That is the mystery and beauty of creativity, I think. It’s the magic of making things—what we create, in a way, helps us continue to create ourselves. Reminding us that we are never done. We are all, in the best way possible, unfinished symphonies, always eager to play one more note.

As we know by now, art imitates life. And life itself can be revealed to us through art, through the creative process. We come home to ourselves in our creations, so long as the beauty we make is not the thing we think defines us.

And so, to quote a kid on Youtube, you can do anything that you want. Really. And I know, I know. All our “yeah but”s follow that. Mine, too. But I’m dealing with all that, believing I could be something more than I am today.

So far, I keep becoming more than what I was before. Not less. Not worse. Always more, and in a way, always better. I might get fatter or skinnier, might learn some new things and forget some others, but to keep making things and sharing what I learn and know with the world—well, that’s pretty marvelous.

I believe we all have big ideas that want to be made into things. Some of those things are businesses, others may be books or podcasts or who knows what. As creators, we tend to suffer when our work doesn’t make its way into the world, when our magic gets stuck instead of exploding onstage.

What we need at those times is a little courage, a little permission, and sometimes a little guidance.

Becoming a ghostwriter and launching a book production agency has allowed me the ability to continue this journey of personal exploration, lending my talents to other creative projects that deserve expression. In a weird way, writing other people’s books has helped me better understand what I want to say. And it’s helped me realize I can be a lot of things; and each of those is itself a creation, something I made.

That can feel incredibly freeing. And one way I know how to get there is to make a lot of things, to achieve a lot and see what lies at the end of all that achievement. I do think this is the gift of creation—it helps us better understand ourselves and how free we really are.

If this feels a little far-fetched to you, if you’ve struggled with certain challenges that feel insurmountable, I invite you to check out this week’s podcast. And let me know what you think:

Is there something you want to become or make that feels impossible to you? What is it, and why? Hit me with a reply. I’d love to hear from you.

Best,

Jeff

P.S. If you’re curious about turning your big idea into a bestseller but want to learn more about that process, you may enjoy listening to thisinterview I did on Ray’s podcast where we talk about the process of taking average ideas and making them interesting and how that can result in a big book deal and a bestseller.