Dear Test,
First, I want to thank you—truly—and to every reader around the world who has encouraged me, supported me, and quietly believed in this new book that I’ve been writing over many months. In this message, I’d like to share some of the most valuable creative rules that helped me get the job done.
And please remember: whether you’re a CEO, a startup founder, a bread maker, a student or a teacher, you are an artist.
This project has required months of intense focus, long stretches of deep (nearly monastic) solitude, and a level of industry that felt unusually demanding.
There were days when the work emptied me completely, just to tell it like it was.
And yet, in a strange and beautiful way, it has also left me feeling full. Few things bring as much joy as a job you’ve done your best to do well.
I submitted the manuscript in a final sprint to the finish line this past Monday, and I can say this with calm conviction: it is the best work I could have possibly done on this project.
In the spirit of service, here are some of the rituals and insights that served me nicely (the message is a little long yet stay with it; you’ll find very useful content below):
#1. The first lesson is simple but unforgiving: part-time commitment yields part-time results.
I went all in on this book. I pushed myself to the wall—cognitively, emotionally, and spiritually.
There were sacrifices. There were trade-offs. There were moments when it would have been easier to ease off. But I didn’t. Because you and the work deserved all I had to give. And because I’ve learned that if something truly matters, it asks for your full life, not your
remaining hours.
#2. The second lesson is about what I’ll call “strategic disappearance.” You can be fully available to the world, or you can do your finest work—but it’s very difficult to do both at the same time.
I began this book on a small island in the Mediterranean, and from there I wrote in hotel rooms across different cities, often booking seven-day stretches with a single purpose: to go dark.
No noise. No distractions. Just the work (and silence; or some country song I was vibing with).
Those periods of isolation allowed me to enter flow—the state where time dissolves, where ideas arrive unforced, and where your highest craft begins to express itself. It’s a magical place (that each of us can inhabit), and it requires real commitment to access.
#3. The third lesson is this: write the work, then sweat the editing.
Whether you’re building a company, writing code, or creating a piece of art, I’ve found it far more effective to move quickly through the first draft—to get the raw material out—then spend pure devotion refining it.
This manuscript went through more revisions than any project I’ve ever done. Maybe 25 or more passes. Tens of thousands of small changes. The magic is not just in creation—it’s in the patience to stay with something long enough to make it excellent. And
worthy of lasting a long time. [Your creative projects are your chance for immortality, yes Test?].
Another realization that deepened for me is that creative work is as much about endurance as it is about inspiration. There were stretches where the words didn’t come easily. Where the energy dipped. Where progress felt slow. Where I felt a chapter or two belonged in the digital garbage can. Yes, the creative process is full of struggle and self-doubt. One must battle with oneself to ship the product.
Here’s the thing, often I felt the work was bad not because it was bad (sometimes it was and needed to be redone) but mostly because I was tired. I’d get up the next day and view the manuscript through a fresh set of eyes. And I’d like what I saw. So I continued.
Oh, Test, doing my 5am workout was absolutely key to the process on this book. In the past, if I wrote for 5 hours it was a great day. On this book, I’d regularly go for 12-16 hours a day. It was because, in contrast to my last two books, on this one working out at dawn was a must. That gave me the focus and energy and stamina to stay in the pocket, for a lot longer each day.
Yes, don’t get fit just to live long. Get fit to be helpful!
And finally, I was reminded—again—that meaningful work changes the person doing it. This book has refined me. It has asked me to think more clearly, feel more deeply, and express more simply. It has required me to remove what was unnecessary and keep only what was true. That process is not always comfortable. But it is always worthwhile.
I didn’t just write this book, this book has written me.
Thank you for being part of this journey with me. Your encouragement matters more than you will ever know.
And if you’re in a season of building something—quietly, patiently, imperfectly—I hope you stay with it. The world doesn’t need more rushed work. It needs more honest, devoted, and excellent work, done with care.
The book will be available globally in January.
With love and respect,
Robin
