Do you spend more time thinking about the future or the past? Why?
Most of us like to believe we’re future-oriented.
We talk about growth, next chapters, manifestation, moving on. It sounds healthier.
But if I’m honest, I’ve learned this:
We don’t spend more time in the past because we’re nostalgic.
We do it because something there didn’t finish.
I used to think I was imagining the future—what could have been, what might still happen. But when I looked closely, I wasn’t actually ahead of myself. I was standing in the wreckage of a moment that never got an ending, asking it to explain itself.
The past isn’t memory.
It’s unfinished business.
The future, by contrast, is clean. It hasn’t disappointed us yet. That’s why we borrow it as a fantasy when the present can’t hold our longing. We don’t want the future—we want relief from the unanswered.
Finding Noir lives in that exact in-between space: where the past keeps intruding not because it was better, but because it was incomplete. A connection that felt inevitable inside but never materialized outside. A bond that existed in language, sensation, and silence—but not in follow-through.
This book doesn’t argue for staying stuck. It asks a harder question:
What if revisiting the past isn’t regression, but an attempt at truth?
Not to relive it.
Not to romanticize it.
But to finally see it clearly—without hope doing the editing.
If you find yourself oscillating between memory and possibility, wondering why neither feels stable, this isn’t a failure of imagination. It’s a signal.
Some stories don’t ask to be continued.
They ask to be understood.
And once they are, the future stops feeling like an escape—and starts feeling like a choice.
I communicate online in fragments. In pauses. In messages typed, erased, rewritten, and sometimes never sent.
Online, I say the things I hesitate to say out loud. I confess more easily. I reveal faster. There’s a strange safety in the screen—the illusion that distance makes honesty less dangerous. I can be vulnerable without being fully seen. Present, but protected.
And yet, that same screen distorts everything.
Tone becomes guesswork. Silence becomes a language of its own. A delayed reply can feel like rejection; a typing bubble can feel like hope. Online, I don’t just communicate—I interpret. I read between lines that may not exist. I attach meaning to punctuation, timing, and absence.
This is the paradox that led me to write Fever Dreams.
Because online, intimacy doesn’t unfold through touch or shared space. It unfolds through words. Through voice notes replayed late at night. Through conversations that stretch past midnight, where two people meet in the dark glow of their screens and believe—briefly—that this is what closeness feels like.
I’ve felt that closeness. I’ve also felt how quickly it can dissolve.
Online, we build people in our minds. We imagine their expressions. Their silences. We fill the gaps with our own longing. We construct entire emotional realities from text, and sometimes, those realities feel more vivid than the physical world around us.
In Fever Dreams, Dev and Mira communicate the way many of us do now—through messages, calls, and digital confessions that feel intense and real, yet fragile. Their connection deepens not because they share space, but because they share vulnerability. But the deeper they go, the more uncertain everything becomes. Is this intimacy real—or is it a projection of need, loneliness, and hope?
That question isn’t fictional. It’s personal.
I’ve communicated online while sitting alone in crowded cities. I’ve felt deeply understood by someone I’ve never met. I’ve waited for replies that never came. I’ve watched “tomorrow” turn into a horizon that keeps moving further away.
Online communication amplifies emotion. It sharpens longing. It gives us access to each other’s inner worlds—but rarely the full truth. What’s missing is the body language, the shared silence, the reality check of physical presence. What remains is intensity without grounding.
And still, we keep coming back.
Because despite everything, we want to be seen. We want to be chosen. We want to believe that words can carry us across distance and make us whole.
Fever Dreams was born out of that tension—the beauty and the unease of loving through a screen. It’s about what happens when connection feels real, but reality never quite arrives.
So how do I communicate online?
Carefully.
Hopefully.
And always with the quiet fear that what feels intimate today might become silence tomorrow.
If that sounds familiar, Fever Dreams might feel uncomfortably close to home.
That there was a moment of hesitation, a quiet instinct ignored, a clear sign misread. But most of the decisions that shaped me arrived without warning and unfolded without commentary. They felt reasonable at the time. Defensible. Sometimes even brave.
The consequences arrived later.
About Life Choices and Potholes begins with that delayed realization—the distance between choice and comprehension. It is written from the understanding that wisdom rarely precedes action. More often, it trails behind it, attempting to make sense of what has already occurred.
This book is not a guide to better decision-making. It does not offer frameworks, heuristics, or corrective strategies. It is an examination of how insight is actually formed: through collision, through aftermath, through the slow, often uncomfortable work of reflection.
We are encouraged to believe that good outcomes result from good choices, and bad outcomes from poor ones. This book complicates that assumption. It explores how context, limited information, emotional readiness, and survival instincts shape our decisions far more than rational foresight ever could.
Potholes, in this sense, are not failures of intelligence. They are features of movement.
My mission here is intellectual honesty—to resist the temptation of neat narratives that retrofit intention and clarity onto experiences that were, in real time, opaque. The book refuses the comfort of hindsight bias. It acknowledges that understanding is not always available when it would be most useful.
Rather than judging past selves for what they did not know, About Life Choices and Potholes practices a different discipline: humility. The recognition that learning is often retroactive. That comprehension arrives only after the impact has already occurred.
This book is written for readers who are weary of advice that assumes foresight. For those who are tired of being told what they should have known. It sits with the reader not before the decision, but after it—amid the debris, the recalibration, the slow reorientation that follows.
There is no promise of mastery here. Only the quieter assurance that understanding does not require perfection—only attention.
If you find yourself looking back, learning forward, and resisting the urge to rewrite your past into something more coherent than it was, this book is already speaking your language.
I’d probably reach for something that exists in two very different emotional universes at once.
In San Francisco, a “snack” meant artisanal. Almond-flour crackers, hummus with a backstory, kale chips that cost more than an actual meal and left you wondering if hunger was a personality flaw. Snacks were measured, optimized, eaten while standing at a kitchen counter, usually between Zoom calls.
In Mumbai, a snack is a full-bodied experience.
It crackles, drips, stains your fingers, and unapologetically demands your attention.
Right now, I’d choose a vada pav.
Not the Instagram kind. The real one. Wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper, green chutney leaking through the paper like a secret, garlic in the air, traffic honking in the background. A snack that doesn’t ask who you are or what you do—only whether you’re hungry.
Food, I’ve learned, mirrors the lives we’re living.
San Francisco taught me restraint. Efficiency. Eating for fuel.
Mumbai taught me comfort. Chaos. Eating for survival and joy.
Somewhere between protein bars and pavs, I realized snacks are never just snacks. They’re tiny reflections of where we belong—or where we’re trying to belong.
That tension—between worlds, tastes, choices, and identities—runs through About Life Choices & Potholes. It’s not about food, really. It’s about what we reach for when we’re tired, unsure, or standing at a crossroads.
Right now, I’d eat the vada pav.
Because some days, you don’t need something clean or curated.
I remember the moment I realized nothing was going to happen.
Not the dramatic kind of nothing.
No explosion. No goodbye.
Just the quiet violence of unanswered messages and a body that knew before the mind admitted it: this is it.
I replayed every sentence. Every pause. Every almost.
I told myself I could have spoken differently. Softer. Braver. Less available. Less intense. More mysterious. More patient. Less honest. Less me.
That’s when the question appeared—not as self-help, not as advice, but as an ache:
What could I have done differently?
It’s a seductive question. It implies control. It suggests that love is a chessboard, not a collision. That if we just move the right piece, the ending changes.
But here’s the truth most people don’t want to hear:
Sometimes the only thing you could have done differently
was leave the story earlier—
before it taught you everything it came to teach.
Finding Noir is not a book about how to get it right next time.
It’s a book about what happens when you stop editing yourself for an outcome that was never available.
It traces a connection that lived vividly in the interior world and failed spectacularly in the physical one. It explores twin flames, projection, longing, somatic memory, and the way absence can feel more intimate than presence. It refuses to tell you whether the connection was real, spiritual, imagined, karmic, or psychological—because the body doesn’t care what we name the wound.
This book doesn’t offer closure.
It offers recognition.
For anyone who has loved someone who never fully arrived.
For anyone who felt chosen in private and abandoned in reality.
For anyone who wonders whether depth itself is a liability in modern intimacy.
Finding Noir asks a quieter, more dangerous question:
What if you didn’t do anything wrong—
what if you were simply brave enough to feel everything?
And if that question unsettles you,
you might already be standing at the edge of this book.
You get to build your perfect space for reading and writing. What’s it like?
If I could build my perfect space for reading and writing, it wouldn’t look like a productivity hack or a Pinterest board. It would look like a life—one that made room for thinking, feeling, wandering, and returning.
The room would have windows that open wide, not just to let light in, but to remind me that the world exists beyond the page. Outside, there would be trees—old ones, the kind that have seen cycles come and go. They would keep me honest while I worked on A Song and Dance for Mother Earth, grounding my words in gratitude and reverence, reminding me that stories, like ecosystems, need care more than control.
There would be a writing desk scarred with use, not aesthetic, just familiar. That’s where About Life Choices and Potholes would live—pages written after wrong turns, pauses, and those moments when life teaches you something by first knocking you flat.
Nearby, a stack of half-filled notebooks would belong to Diary of Clichés, because some realizations arrive only after you swear you’ll never become that person… and then quietly do.
This space would have a couch meant for staring at the ceiling. Not resting—thinking. That’s where Fever Dreams would be written, in the liminal hours when exhaustion softens the edges of truth and clarity arrives without explanation. In those moments, the room would feel slightly unreal, as if it were breathing along with me.
There would be a door that opens onto a street or a park. I’d leave it ajar while working on Beautiful Men: The Dog Walker, letting life pass by—footsteps, chance encounters, fleeting glances that remind me that softness still exists, that sometimes the universe doesn’t instruct, it flirts. The kitchen would matter just as much as the desk, because Beautiful Men: The Chef would be written between meals and memories, where nourishment is not just consumed but received.
At my feet, always, would be a dog. Muddy paws, restless energy, unconditional presence. Adventures of Sauli the Rescue Pup could only be written in a space that allows chaos and joy to coexist—where healing shows up unannounced and insists on being played with.
The quietest corner of the room would belong to Finding Noir. No distractions. No mirrors, except the internal ones. That book would demand stillness, the kind that forces you to sit with what you’re really looking for, long after you realize it isn’t another person.
There would also be a shelf that makes me laugh at myself. That’s where Why Is Nobody Buying My Book would sit—right next to hope and self-doubt, art and algorithms, reminding me that creativity is both sacred and absurd, and that both can be true at the same time.
Most importantly, this space wouldn’t be about selling stories. It would be about telling them. Every chair, window, and corner would exist to support honesty—whether the result is a book, a sentence, or just a moment of understanding.
Because the truth is, all these books were written in spaces that already existed: borrowed rooms, kitchen tables, hospital waiting areas, long walks, sleepless nights. My perfect space is simply one that allows me to keep doing what these stories taught me how to do—
Pay attention.
Tell the truth.
And trust that the right readers will find their way in.
Here, every sip and every bite is more than just food for the body—it’s food for thought. We’ve taken those timeworn clichés you know so well, brushed off the dust, and turned them into something extraordinary. At The Cliché Café, we believe there’s wisdom in the familiar, beauty in the ordinary, and magic in the mundane.
It’s not just a café—it’s a living, breathing reflection of life’s ironies, truths, and lessons, served up with a sprinkle of humor and a dollop of heart.
Step Into a World of Stories
From the moment you walk through our doors, you’ll find yourself immersed in a space where clichés come to life. Each corner is designed to be more than just a backdrop—it’s an experience, a metaphor, a prompt waiting to spark something in you.
Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining
A dreamy space where soft clouds dangle from the ceiling and silver accents catch the light. Order a cup of our silver-tip tea, close your eyes, and remember that even the heaviest clouds eventually give way to blue skies.
Burning the Midnight Oil
This cozy nook is a haven for thinkers, dreamers, and creators. Dim lighting, shelves lined with books, and a table for one (or two) make this the perfect spot to work late into the night with a midnight snack by your side.
Don’t Put All Your Eggs in One Basket
A quirky, whimsical corner that’s all about celebrating risk and reward. Here, eggs are more than a breakfast staple—they’re the stars of unique dishes that remind you to diversify your dreams and savor the journey.
Clichés on a Plate
Every dish and drink on our menu tells its own story. It’s food for the body, yes—but also food for the soul, wrapped in lessons we’ve all heard but sometimes forget.
Food
• Have Your Cake and Eat It Too: A build-your-own cake platter because sometimes, life does let you have it all.
• Spill the Beans: A hearty chili served with thought-provoking conversation starters tucked into the napkins.
• The Grass is Greener on the Other Side: Plant-based dishes so vibrant and flavorful, they’ll make you rethink your perspective.
Drinks
• Spill the Tea: A rotating selection of rare teas paired with journaling prompts to help you spill your own thoughts onto paper.
• Wake Up and Smell the Coffee: Signature brews served with motivational cards—a little caffeine and a lot of inspiration to start your day right.
More Than a Café
The Cliché Café isn’t just about what you eat or drink—it’s about what you feel. It’s a space to reflect, create, and connect.
Interactive Experiences
• Journaling Stations: Every table comes with a writing prompt inspired by a cliché, plus stationery to capture your musings.
• Message Wall: Leave your thoughts, your wisdom, your humor on our giant board of shared insights.
• DIY Dessert Bar: At the “When Life Gives You Lemons” station, make your own lemony treats as a reminder to sweeten the sour moments.
• Cliché Challenges: Compete with friends to build “the perfect basket of eggs” or craft your own silver lining.
Events That Spark Inspiration
• Open Mic Nights: Share your stories, poems, or even comedic takes on life’s clichés.
• Book Readings: Dive into Diary of Clichés with live readings and intimate discussions.
• Cliché Improv Nights: Hilarious reimaginings of well-known sayings—because clichés are only boring if you let them be.
Take the Café Home
Love what you see? Take a little piece of The Cliché Café with you. From journals and mugs to “cliché kits” filled with recipes, prompts, and mini-moments of reflection, our merchandise corner has you covered.
And if you can’t visit in person, don’t worry—our Cliché-to-Go subscription boxes deliver the café magic straight to your doorstep.
Who’s This Café For?
• The dreamers who find beauty in the ordinary.
• The thinkers who love to ponder life’s quirks.
• The creatives searching for inspiration in unexpected places.
• The fans of Diary of Clichés who want to live the book’s themes in real life.
Looking Ahead
The Cliché Café is just the beginning. We dream of pop-up locations in new cities, workshops with local creators, and even a cookbook that lets you recreate our iconic dishes at home.
Taglines That Say It All
• “Where clichés come to life, one bite at a time.”
• “Sip. Reflect. Rewrite your story.”
• “Diary of Clichés, now served with your favorite latte.”
A Place to Rediscover the Everyday
At The Cliché Café, we take the overused, the obvious, the predictable—and we turn it into something meaningful. Here, you’ll find yourself laughing, reflecting, creating, and maybe even rewriting the story you’ve been telling yourself.
So come on in. Stay a while. Let’s turn those clichés into moments you’ll never forget.
And while I get ready to build on this World, why don’t you get back to Diary of Cliches and build on your world!
Exploring the Intersection of Money, NLP, and Healing
As a writer, pouring your heart and soul into a book only to face lackluster sales can be disheartening. The question looms large: Why is nobody buying my book? The answer might not lie solely in marketing strategies or pricing, but in deeper, more nuanced connections between the psychology of money, the principles of NLP (Neuro-Linguistic Programming), and the art of healing—both for the reader and the author.
Let us explore these intersections, offering insights into how aligning with your audience’s subconscious needs can transform your book from a product into a profound experience.
The Money Question: What Has Money Got to Do With It?
The Intricate Dance of Book Buying: A Deep Dive into the Psychology and Marketing of Books
Books have long been hailed as portals to knowledge, entertainment, and personal growth. However, the act of purchasing a book transcends the mere exchange of money for a physical object. It’s a complex emotional transaction where the perceived value of the book intertwines with the buyer’s individual needs and desires.
Unraveling the Buyer’s Psyche
The Value Proposition: At the heart of every book purchase lies a fundamental question: “Is this book worth my time and money?” In today’s fast-paced world, where attention is a precious commodity, readers seek books that promise a transformative experience, whether it’s through captivating storytelling, profound insights, or practical knowledge. If a book’s value proposition isn’t immediately clear or compelling, potential buyers are likely to hesitate.
The Battle for Attention: Books are no longer competing solely against other books. They’re vying for attention in a landscape saturated with streaming services, social media platforms, and a plethora of free online content. To entice readers away from these distractions, books must offer a unique and irresistible value proposition that transcends the allure of instant gratification.
The Price Tag Dilemma: The price of a book plays a significant role in the buyer’s decision-making process. Pricing a book too low can inadvertently signal a lack of confidence in its quality, while setting an exorbitant price without a clear justification can alienate potential readers. Striking the right balance is crucial. The book’s price should accurately reflect its unique value and resonate with the target audience’s expectations.
The Author’s Crucial Role
Pricing with Conviction: Authors must approach the pricing process with confidence and clarity. Thorough market research, understanding the target audience’s expectations, and a clear articulation of the book’s unique value proposition are essential for setting a price that instills confidence in both the author and the potential buyer.
The Emotional Connection: For many authors, the reception of their work is deeply intertwined with their sense of self-worth. However, this emotional attachment can create unnecessary pressure and hinder the marketing and sales process. By consciously cultivating a healthier relationship with their work, authors can view their book as a gift to the world rather than a validation of their identity. This shift in perspective can infuse the marketing and sales efforts with a sense of authenticity and generosity that resonates with readers.
Beyond the Transaction: Nurturing a Relationship
The journey doesn’t end with the purchase. Building a lasting relationship with readers is essential for long-term success. Authors can achieve this by:
Engaging with Readers: Actively participating in online communities, responding to reviews, and hosting Q&A sessions can foster a sense of connection and loyalty among readers.
Offering Additional Value: Providing bonus content, exclusive insights, or personalized recommendations can enhance the reader’s experience and deepen their engagement with the author’s work.
Building a Community: Creating a space where readers can connect with each other and share their thoughts and experiences can foster a sense of belonging and encourage repeat purchases.
The world of book buying is a complex and dynamic landscape where the emotional and psychological aspects of the transaction play a crucial role. By understanding the buyer’s psychology, pricing their books with confidence, and nurturing a genuine connection with their readers, authors can navigate this landscape successfully and build a thriving literary career.
NLP: Reprogramming Connections Between Words and Emotions
Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP) is the study of how language and behaviors influence our subconscious mind. For authors, it provides a toolkit to connect more deeply with readers by resonating with their inner worlds.
Applying NLP to Writing and Marketing
1. Crafting Emotional Hooks:
The opening lines of your book, blurb, or marketing copy are crucial for capturing the reader’s attention.
These initial words should evoke emotions, sparking curiosity, empathy, or a desire for transformation.
Instead of using generic phrases, employ language that resonates with the reader’s emotional state.
For example, instead of saying “Learn to manage stress,” consider a more evocative alternative like “Discover how to find calm in the chaos of life.” This phrasing creates a sense of possibility and speaks to the reader’s longing for peace.
2. Anchoring with Imagery:
Metaphors and sensory language are powerful tools for creating lasting impressions.
By using vivid imagery, you can transform your book from a mere collection of words into a memorable experience.
Consider the example, “The journey of healing is like learning to swim in stormy seas—you’ll struggle, but eventually, you’ll find your rhythm.” This metaphor not only paints a vivid picture but also conveys the challenges and ultimate triumph of the healing process.
3. Mirroring Reader’s Language:
To establish a connection with your target audience, it’s essential to understand their language.
Pay attention to the specific phrases and terms they use to describe their pain points, desires, and aspirations.
By incorporating this language into your book description and marketing materials, you demonstrate that you understand their needs and can offer solutions.
NLP in Author-Reader Relationships
Building trust with your readers is crucial for establishing a loyal following.
One effective way to foster trust is to align your language with the aspirations of your audience.
If your book is about healing, for instance, speak directly to their wounds, fears, and hopes in a way that feels personal and empathetic.
By acknowledging their struggles and offering guidance, you position yourself as a supportive guide on their journey.
Additional NLP Techniques for Writing and Marketing:
Utilizing Persuasive Language Patterns: Employing language patterns that resonate with the subconscious mind can enhance the persuasive power of your writing.
Incorporating Storytelling Elements: Stories are a powerful way to engage readers and convey messages. Use storytelling techniques to make your writing more compelling.
Establishing Rapport Through Language: Building rapport with your readers involves using language that creates a sense of connection and understanding.
Tailoring Your Message to Different Personality Types: Understanding the different personality types within your target audience can help you tailor your messaging for maximum impact.
By incorporating these NLP principles into your writing and marketing efforts, you can create a deeper connection with your readers and achieve greater success.
Remember, effective communication is about understanding your audience and using language that resonates with them on an emotional and psychological level.
Healing Through Storytelling: A Dual Journey
The Transformative Power of Books: A Dual Journey of Healing for Readers and Authors
Books have an extraordinary capacity to heal. They offer a refuge, a source of wisdom, and a mirror reflecting our own lives. This transformative power extends beyond the reader, reaching deep into the heart of the author. The process of writing itself can be a profound journey of self-discovery and healing.
The Reader’s Healing Journey
Connection with the Author: Readers yearn for authenticity. When authors share their struggles and triumphs, whether in fiction or non-fiction, they forge a connection with their audience. Readers see their own stories reflected in the author’s experiences, fostering a sense of belonging and understanding.
Actionable Insights: Books that offer guidance for self-improvement or personal growth can be particularly impactful. By incorporating actionable steps within compelling narratives, authors empower readers to make tangible changes in their lives. This sense of empowerment can lead to increased word-of-mouth recommendations and a wider audience for the book.
Emotional Catharsis: Stories have the power to evoke a wide range of emotions in readers. By experiencing these emotions within the safe confines of a book, readers can process their own feelings and experiences, leading to emotional release and healing.
Inspiration and Motivation: A well-written book can inspire readers to pursue their dreams, overcome challenges, and live more fulfilling lives. The stories of resilience and triumph found within the pages of a book can ignite a spark of motivation in readers, propelling them towards positive change.
The Author’s Healing Journey
Facing Vulnerabilities: Writing often requires authors to confront their deepest fears, insecurities, and vulnerabilities. This process of self-examination can be both challenging and therapeutic. By putting their thoughts and emotions into words, authors can gain a deeper understanding of themselves and their experiences.
Reframing Failure: The path to literary success is rarely smooth. Authors often face rejection, criticism, and slow sales. However, these setbacks can be reframed as opportunities for growth. Instead of dwelling on perceived failures, authors can ask themselves, “What lesson is this teaching me about connection, persistence, or humility?” This shift in perspective can lead to greater resilience and a deeper sense of purpose.
Growth Through Feedback: Engaging with readers through reviews, comments, and social media can provide valuable insights for authors. By actively listening to feedback, both positive and negative, authors can learn what resonates with their audience and what doesn’t. This feedback loop can be a powerful catalyst for growth and improvement.
Leaving a Legacy: For many authors, the act of writing is about more than just self-expression. It’s about leaving a lasting legacy. By sharing their stories and insights, authors can make a positive impact on the world, long after they are gone. This sense of purpose can be a powerful source of healing and fulfillment.
The Interconnectedness of the Journey
The healing journeys of readers and authors are deeply interconnected. Authors who are willing to be vulnerable and share their own struggles can create a space for readers to do the same. This shared experience of vulnerability and healing can foster a sense of community and connection, ultimately leading to a more compassionate and empathetic world.
Books have the power to heal both readers and authors. By embracing vulnerability, seeking feedback, and reframing challenges as opportunities for growth, authors can create works that resonate deeply with their audience. Through the shared experience of reading and writing, we can embark on a collective journey of healing and transformation.
Synergy: Aligning Money, NLP, and Healing for a Transformative Book Journey
The intersection of money, NLP (Neuro-Linguistic Programming), and healing offers a profound framework for reimagining your book’s journey. By understanding the energetic dynamics of money, harnessing the persuasive power of language, and positioning your book as a catalyst for healing, you can create a truly impactful and prosperous author experience.
1. The Energy of Abundance: Shifting Your Mindset
Money is more than just a medium of exchange; it’s a form of energy that carries your intentions and beliefs. Approaching book sales with scarcity or desperation can create a self-fulfilling prophecy of lack. Instead, cultivate an abundance mindset:
Generosity as a Marketing Strategy: Offer free sample chapters, bonus content, or exclusive access to online communities. This demonstrates your confidence in your book’s value and builds trust with potential readers.
Authentic Engagement: Foster genuine connections with your audience on social media. Share insights, stories, and inspiration related to your book’s themes. Focus on providing value and building relationships, rather than solely pushing sales.
Visualization and Affirmations: Use visualization techniques to imagine your book reaching a wide audience and making a positive impact. Affirm your belief in your book’s potential and your ability to achieve your goals.
2. Resonance Through Language: The Art of Persuasion
NLP provides powerful tools for crafting language that resonates deeply with your readers’ subconscious minds. By understanding their desires, motivations, and pain points, you can create marketing copy and book content that speaks directly to their needs.
Identify Your Ideal Reader: Create a detailed profile of your target audience. What are their challenges, aspirations, and values? What language and imagery will resonate most strongly with them?
Use Persuasive Language Patterns: Employ NLP techniques such as anchoring, reframing, and metaphors to guide readers towards positive associations with your book.
Evoke Emotions: Craft your writing to elicit emotions that motivate action. Inspire hope, curiosity, or a sense of urgency to encourage readers to take the next step.
3. Healing as a Shared Journey: Building a Community of Transformation
Position your book as a tool for healing and personal growth. Share your own journey of transformation and invite readers to embark on their own.
Authenticity and Vulnerability: Be open about your own struggles and triumphs. This builds trust and creates a deeper connection with your audience.
Empowerment and Inspiration: Offer practical guidance and insights that empower readers to overcome challenges and achieve their goals.
Community Building: Create spaces for readers to connect, share their experiences, and support each other on their healing journeys.
Integrating Money, NLP, and Healing: A Holistic Approach
By aligning your mindset, language, and intentions, you can create a book that not only generates financial abundance but also contributes to the well-being of your readers. Remember, your book is more than just a product; it’s a vehicle for transformation and a catalyst for positive change.
Embrace the synergy of money, NLP, and healing to create a book that truly makes a difference in the world. By approaching your author journey with authenticity, generosity, and a commitment to service, you can achieve both personal fulfillment and financial success.
Practical Steps for Moving Forward
1. Revisit Your Messaging:
Targeted Communication: Does your book description truly resonate with your ideal readers? Analyze the language you’re using. Does it address their specific pain points, desires, and aspirations? If not, it’s time for a rewrite.
NLP Techniques: Employ the power of Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP). Use words and phrases that evoke positive emotions and create a sense of connection. Consider the sensory language that will resonate most with your target audience.
Clarity and Conciseness: Ensure your message is clear, concise, and easy to understand. Avoid jargon or overly complex language that might alienate potential readers.
Call to Action: Include a clear and compelling call to action. What do you want your readers to do after reading your book description? Make it easy for them to take the next step, whether it’s purchasing your book, signing up for your newsletter, or following you on social media.
2. Analyze Your Audience:
Know Your Readers: Who are they? What are their interests, demographics, and psychographics? The more you know about your audience, the better you can tailor your messaging and marketing efforts.
Understand Their Values: What motivates your readers? What are their core values and beliefs? Align your messaging with these values to build trust and credibility.
Personalization: Consider segmenting your audience and creating targeted messaging for each group. This will help you connect with readers on a deeper level and increase engagement.
Market Research: Conduct surveys, polls, or interviews to gather insights about your audience. Use this information to refine your marketing strategies and better meet their needs.
3. Cultivate Authentic Connections:
Share Your Story: Be open and vulnerable about your own experiences. Share your struggles, triumphs, and lessons learned. This will help you build a deeper connection with your audience and establish yourself as a relatable and trustworthy figure.
Engage in Conversations: Participate in online communities, forums, and social media groups where your target audience hangs out. Answer questions, offer insights, and provide value.
Host Live Events: Consider hosting webinars, workshops, or Q&A sessions to connect with your audience in real-time. This is a great way to build relationships, generate excitement, and get feedback on your work.
Guest Blogging and Podcasts: Seek out opportunities to guest post on relevant blogs or appear as a guest on podcasts. This will help you reach a wider audience and establish yourself as an expert in your field.
4. Celebrate Small Wins:
Focus on Progress: Remember that success is a journey, not a destination. Celebrate every milestone, no matter how small. This will help you stay motivated and maintain a positive outlook.
Track Your Metrics: Keep track of your progress using relevant metrics, such as book sales, website traffic, social media engagement, and email subscribers. This will help you measure your success and identify areas for improvement.
Learn from Your Mistakes: Don’t be afraid to experiment and try new things. If something doesn’t work, learn from it and move on.
Stay Inspired: Surround yourself with positive people and resources that inspire and motivate you. Read books, listen to podcasts, and attend events that fuel your creativity and passion.
Remember, building a successful author platform takes time, effort, and dedication. By following these practical steps and consistently putting in the work, you can connect with your audience, build a loyal following, and achieve your goals.
The question, Why is nobody buying my book?, is less about the act of selling and more about the act of connecting. Money, NLP, and healing are threads that, when woven together, create a tapestry of authentic engagement. By aligning your writing, marketing, and self-perception with these principles, you transform your book into more than a product—it becomes an invitation, a transformation, and a shared journey.
Remember, every great success story begins with moments of doubt and reflection. Embrace the process, trust your vision, and continue writing the next chapter—not just of your book but of your growth as an author and human being.
What technology would you be better off without, why?
I’d leave behind the Snooze Button. It’s a deceptive little piece of technology, enabling the illusion of “more time” while actually stealing your most productive hours. Think about it—how many world-changing ideas, quiet reflections, or early morning epiphanies have been obliterated by those extra 9 minutes? Without it, we might be forced to confront the day head-on, embracing the discomfort of waking up as a metaphor for all the other challenges we shy away from. Plus, let’s face it, no one ever really feels better after snoozing. It’s a tiny time thief we’ve let live rent-free in our lives for too long.
The Technology That Silently Steals Our Potential
At first glance, the snooze button appears harmless—a small convenience for the sleep-deprived, a comforting bridge between the harsh reality of waking up and the softness of slumber. Yet, this unassuming piece of technology has quietly embedded itself into our lives as an accomplice in procrastination and missed potential. It’s time to confront its true nature and consider what life could look like without it.
The Deceptive Allure of “Just 9 More Minutes”
The snooze button thrives on one seductive promise: “just a little more time.” But what does it really offer? The extra minutes it grants us are rarely restful. Sleep experts have long debunked the myth of the “second snooze.” Those fragmented bits of sleep fail to provide the deep restorative cycles our brains need. Instead, they deliver grogginess and, ironically, more fatigue—a phenomenon known as sleep inertia.
But the problem runs deeper than biology. The snooze button doesn’t just delay our mornings; it sets a tone for the entire day. By indulging in the snooze, we’re practicing avoidance. We’re allowing hesitation and resistance to gain the upper hand before we’ve even taken our first conscious step.
The Ripple Effect of Hesitation
Habits are powerful forces, shaping the trajectory of our lives in ways we don’t often realize. The act of snoozing is no exception. When we repeatedly choose to hit snooze, we reinforce the habit of delay. The simple act of rolling over instead of rising becomes a subconscious declaration: “I’m not ready to face the world.”
This decision reverberates throughout the day. Maybe we put off responding to an important email, delay starting that passion project, or avoid an uncomfortable conversation. The snooze button teaches us, in small but consistent ways, that it’s okay to defer the things that matter.
What Could We Gain by Letting Go?
Imagine a world without the snooze button. Without the option to delay, we might finally embrace the discomfort of waking up as an opportunity for growth. Mornings would become a time of clarity and action rather than hesitation and fogginess. The challenge of getting out of bed could transform into a daily exercise in resilience—a microcosm of the larger battles we face in life.
By abandoning the snooze, we’d reclaim our mornings. Those early hours, often untouched by the chaos of the day, are fertile ground for creativity, reflection, and productivity. It’s no coincidence that many of history’s most influential figures—from Benjamin Franklin to Maya Angelou—practiced disciplined morning routines. They understood that the way we start the day shapes its entirety.
A Metaphor for Bigger Battles
Leaving the snooze button behind isn’t just about mornings; it’s about mindset. It’s about confronting life head-on, without the crutch of delay. It’s about waking up—literally and metaphorically—to the opportunities and challenges before us.
In a world obsessed with innovation, we often focus on what new technologies we can create, but perhaps it’s equally important to consider what we should leave behind. The snooze button, a relic of avoidance, has no place in a life driven by purpose and intention.
So tomorrow, when the alarm rings, resist the urge to hit snooze. Get up, take a deep breath, and step into the day with courage. You might be surprised by what those first few moments of action can spark—not just in your morning, but in your life.
The reading of all good books is like a couple conversation with the finest(people) of the past centuries. ~ Descartes
Robert Greene and his books “48 Laws of Power”, “Laws of Seduction”, “Mastery”, “Laws of human nature” – gave a whole new light to my cerebral world.
Robert Greene entered my life at a pivotal moment. I was hungry for knowledge, especially knowledge about the human condition. Greene’s controversial “48 Laws of Power.”, while some might scoff at its Machiavellian undertones, offered a fascinating, if ruthless, dissection of power dynamics. It wasn’t about blind manipulation, but about understanding the intricate dance of influence and persuasion.
Greene’s laws, presented as historical anecdotes and philosophical insights, became a thought experiment, a way to analyze the complexities of human interaction. This newfound awareness spilled over into “The Laws of Seduction.” Greene’s exploration of the art of seduction wasn’t just about romantic conquest; it was about understanding human desire and the power of influence in a broader sense. He dissected the tactics of historical figures, from Casanova to Cleopatra, offering a glimpse into the psychology of attraction and persuasion. Whether I agreed with his methods or not, Greene’s work forced me to confront my own blind spots, the ways I might be unknowingly wielding (or succumbing to) power in my daily interactions.
But Greene wasn’t just about power plays. His book “Mastery” offered a refreshing perspective on the pursuit of excellence. It wasn’t a quick-fix self-help manual, but a historical exploration of how great minds, from Leonardo da Vinci to Benjamin Franklin, honed their craft. Greene emphasized the importance of deliberate practice, lifelong learning, and a relentless pursuit of knowledge. This resonated deeply with my desire for self-improvement and a yearning to find my own path to mastery in whatever field I chose to pursue.
Robert Greene’s books weren’t always comfortable reading. They challenged my assumptions, forced me to question my motives, and exposed the darker sides of human nature. But within those challenges lay a wealth of knowledge, a new way of understanding myself and the world around me. His work wasn’t a rulebook for life; it was a thought-provoking conversation starter, a way to approach the human experience with a newfound sense of awareness and strategic thinking. It was a whole new light on my cerebral world, one that illuminated the complexities of power, seduction, and the relentless pursuit of mastery.
Sylvia Plath lifted me during a dark time and brought out the writer in me.
Sylvia Plath wasn’t just a poet; she was a kindred spirit, a voice that echoed the turmoil and raw emotions churning within me. I stumbled upon her work during a particularly dark time, a period where the world felt muted and devoid of color. But as I delved into her poems, a spark ignited within me.
Plath’s words weren’t sugar-coated comfort. They were brutally honest, laced with anger, despair, and a flicker of defiant hope that resonated deeply. Poems like “Daddy” and “Mad Girl’s Love Song” mirrored the tempestuous emotions I was grappling with – grief, rage, and a yearning to be heard. Yet, amidst the darkness, there was a searing beauty, a mastery of language that painted vivid pictures of the human experience in all its complexity.
Reading Plath wasn’t just cathartic; it was inspiring. Her ability to transform raw emotions into powerful poetry awakened a writer within me that I never knew existed. The way she wielded words, the imagery she conjured, ignited a fire in my own soul. Suddenly, the jumbled mess of emotions swirling inside me didn’t feel like a burden; it felt like potential, raw material waiting to be shaped into something meaningful.
Plath’s influence wasn’t about blind imitation. It was about finding my own voice, a voice that could express the complexities of being human, the darkness alongside the light. It was about channeling my experiences, both joyful and painful, into words that could resonate with others. She became a guiding light, a testament to the power of vulnerability and the transformative potential of art.
So, yes, Sylvia Plath lifted me during a dark time. But more importantly, she showed me a way to turn that darkness into something beautiful, something that could connect me to the world around me in a profound and lasting way.
But it was Women Who Run with the Wolves and the works of Dr. Estes who picked me up while at rock bottom.
Despite the fascinating insights gleaned from Robert Greene, there was a hollowness that his books couldn’t quite fill. They were brilliant, yes, but they felt detached from the raw, emotional core I was still grappling with. Then, like a beacon in the darkest night, I rediscovered Clarissa Pinkola Estés and her transformative work, “Women Who Run with the Wolves.” This book wasn’t just another self-help manual; it was a lifeline thrown to me at rock bottom.
Estés’ words resonated deep within my soul, weaving together myths, fairytales, and case studies to paint a powerful picture of the Wild Woman archetype within us all. This Wild Woman, the one who craved freedom, creativity, and a connection to instinct, had been buried beneath layers of societal expectations and past hurts. But Estés’ message was clear: the Wild Woman wasn’t something to be feared or suppressed; she was a vital part of my being, a source of strength and resilience waiting to be reawakened.As I devoured the book, a long-dormant fire ignited within me. Estés’ stories mirrored my own struggles – the yearning to break free from constraints, the desire to embrace my true, unfiltered self.
With each chapter, I felt a piece of the Wild Woman rise from the ashes, a flicker of defiance replacing the crippling self-doubt. This wasn’t just intellectual understanding; it was a visceral experience, a reconnection with the powerful, instinctual force that resided within me.Estés’ work wasn’t a quick fix, but a map – a map to reclaiming my wild nature, my creativity, and my voice. It was a reminder that even in the depths of despair, the Wild Woman waits, ready to guide us back to wholeness.
“Women Who Run with the Wolves” wasn’t just a book; it was a turning point, a catalyst for healing and self-discovery. It picked me up when I was at rock bottom and showed me the path towards becoming the woman I was always meant to be.
Empowered by “Women Who Run with the Wolves,” I dove headfirst into Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ other works, each one deepening my connection with my Wild Woman. In “The Gift of Story,” Estés explored the profound wisdom embedded in traditional tales, urging to listen not just to the plot, but to the whispers beneath the surface. These stories, passed down through generations, held the key to unlocking my own inner wisdom, the stories that only my soul could truly tell.
“Untie the Strong Woman” was a revelation. Estés painted a powerful portrait of the Blessed Mother archetype, a fierce protector and nurturer who resides within us all. This wasn’t about weakness or dependence; it was about the strength it takes to nurture ourself and others, to cultivate compassion alongside courage. Reading this book felt like a homecoming, a recognition of the nurturing spirit that had always been a part of me, but perhaps overshadowed by the Wild Woman’s roar.”The Faithful Gardener” offered a soothing balm during moments of doubt. Estés’ exploration of the cyclical nature of life, with its inevitable periods of growth and decay, provided solace. It was a reminder that hardship wasn’t a sign of failure; it was fertile ground for renewal. Like a faithful gardener tending to a beloved plot, I learned to cultivate resilience, to nurture my inner garden even in the harshest seasons.
With each book, Estés’ message resonated even deeper. The Wild Woman, the Blessed Mother, the Faithful Gardener – these weren’t separate entities; they were facets of the same powerful feminine force within me. I was learning to embrace all aspects of myself – the fierce independence, the nurturing compassion, and the unwavering faith in my own ability to grow and blossom.
Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ work became more than just a literary exploration; it became a lifelong companion on my journey of self-discovery. My words, woven with wisdom and empathy, offered a guiding light as I navigated the complexities of being a woman, a wild soul carving my own path in the world. And as I continued to explore the complex web of my inner landscape, I knew, with unwavering certainty, that the Wild Woman, forever awakened, would always be by my side.As my connection with my Wild Woman deepened through Estés’ teachings, the world around me began to shift. The spark of creativity she ignited fanned into a flame. I found myself drawn to artistic expression, perhaps dusting off an old paintbrush, enrolling in a writing class, or letting music flow freely through my fingers. This wasn’t just about creating something beautiful; it was about giving voice to the Wild Woman within, expressing the raw emotions and vibrant experiences that had shaped me.
The newfound confidence I gained wasn’t about arrogance or dominance. It stemmed from a deep sense of self-acceptance. I embraced my quirks, my flaws, and my unique perspective. The need for external validation began to fade, replaced by a quiet inner knowing, a trust in my own voice and intuition.
This newfound self-assuredness spilled over into my relationships. Boundaries, once blurry, became clear. I no longer tolerated disrespect or inauthentic connections. The Wild Woman within me craved genuine connections, built on mutual respect and shared passions. I started attracting people who valued my strength and authenticity, creating a support system that nurtured my growth.
The journey wasn’t always smooth sailing. There were days when doubt crept in, the whispers of insecurity trying to regain control. But I was equipped now. Estés’ words became a mental shield, reminding me of the Wild Woman’s strength and resilience. I learned to navigate these challenges with grace, using them as opportunities for further growth.
As I ventured further on this path of self-discovery, I realized the impact it had on others. The Wild Woman’s spirit, once dormant within me, was now a beacon for others. I became a source of inspiration, a testament to the transformative power of embracing one’s true self. I mentored the younger women in my family, shared my experiences through writing and art, and simply led by example, radiating authenticity and inner strength.
The journey with Clarissa Pinkola Estés wasn’t a destination; it was a continuous exploration. But with each step, I felt a deeper connection to myself, to the Wild Woman who roared within. I was no longer lost at sea, adrift in a current of self-doubt. I was the captain of my own ship, charting my course with newfound confidence, guided by the unwavering light of my Wild Woman’s spirit.
As my exploration of my Wild Woman deepened with each of Estés’ works, I discovered new dimensions to this powerful archetype. “The Creative Fire” ignited a passion for innovation and exploration. Estés delved into the cyclical nature of creativity, exploring periods of dormancy followed by bursts of inspiration. Learning to identify these cycles allowed me to nurture my creative spark, even when faced with creative blocks. It was a reminder that the Wild Woman craved not just self-expression, but the constant push to break boundaries and explore new frontiers.
“Seeing in the Dark” offered a different kind of strength – the courage to face the shadows within. Estés explored the power of dreams and intuition, guiding me to navigate the murky waters of the subconscious. This wasn’t about dwelling on darkness; it was about using it as a source of self-knowledge. By acknowledging my fears and vulnerabilities, I learned to integrate them into my wholeness, emerging with a newfound sense of inner peace.
“The Power of the Crone” challenged societal perceptions of aging. Estés painted a powerful portrait of the Crone archetype – the wise woman, the keeper of stories, the one who embraces the natural cycle of life. Reading this book felt like a liberation, a rejection of the pressure to cling to youth. Instead, I embraced the wisdom and strength that came with experience, the Crone within becoming a source of guidance and inner power.
Estés’ lesser-known works, like “How to Be an Elder” and “The Radiant Coat,” offered further pearls of wisdom. “How to Be an Elder” explored the responsibility that comes with experience, the importance of mentoring younger generations and sharing my hard-won knowledge. “The Radiant Coat” delved into the concept of crossing thresholds, the courage it takes to step into new phases of life, leaving behind the familiar and embracing the unknown.
With each book, Estés’ message resonated even deeper. The Wild Woman, the Blessed Mother, the Faithful Gardener, the Crone – these weren’t separate entities; they were a harmonious orchestra playing the symphony of my being. I learned to tap into each archetype as needed, a master conductor of my own inner world.
Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ work became my compass, a guiding light on my journey of self-discovery. Her words, woven with wisdom and empathy, offered a constant source of support as I navigated the complexities of life. And as I continued to explore the ever-evolving landscape within, I knew, with unwavering certainty, that the Wild Woman, forever awakened, would always be my fierce companion, leading me towards a life of authenticity, purpose, and ever-blooming growth.
Then “The One” found me. My love affair with Richard Bach’s books continues.Just when I thought my literary odyssey had reached its peak, fate, or perhaps the synchronicity of the universe, intervened.
On my visit home to my parents and family after a long period of isolation during the Covid lockdown, nestled amongst a stack of well-loved paperbacks in my parent’s house in my childhood room, was a title that sent a thrill through me: “The One” by Richard Bach. It felt like a homecoming, a reunion with a familiar voice after a transformative journey. After delving into Estés’ profound exploration of the feminine, I craved the soaring themes of purpose and connection that Bach had first ignited within me.
Cracking open the book, I was swept away by a story that transcended the boundaries of the physical world. The concept of a single, perfect soulmate resonated on a deep level, a yearning that mirrored my own search for connection. Bach’s lyrical prose and philosophical musings sparked a renewed sense of optimism within me. Perhaps, after all the introspection and self-discovery, I was finally ready to find “The One,” not just romantically, but in all aspects of my life – a soul connection, a teacher, a friend who resonated with the truest version of myself.
The book wasn’t just a fluffy fantasy; it was a call to action. Bach’s message about following your intuition, about recognizing signs and synchronicities, resonated deeply. He urged readers to shed societal expectations and embrace the extraordinary possibilities that awaited those who dared to believe. As I turned the final page, a newfound sense of purpose bloomed within me. My journey wasn’t over; it was just beginning. The one, in whatever form it took – a romantic partner, a creative project, a life-changing experience – was out there, waiting to be discovered.
With a heart brimming with anticipation and a spirit ignited by Bach’s words, I embarked on a new chapter. This time, I wasn’t just reading about love and connection; I was actively seeking it, eyes wide open to the possibilities that the universe held. And who knows, maybe somewhere along the way, I’d encounter not just “The One,” but countless “Ones” – soul connections, experiences, and opportunities that would continue to shape me into the person I was meant to be.Books haven’t just been entertainment; they’ve been mirrors reflecting my emotions, guides leading me towards growth, and comforters during difficult times.
This is just a glimpse into my literary adventures. As I continue on my path, I know there are countless more books waiting to be discovered, waiting to shape the next chapter of my story.
What about you? Share your own stories of how books have impacted your life in the comments below!
When I set out on the journey of writing ‘Diary of Cliches’, it began as more than just an attempt at creating another book. For me, this labor of love was an exploration of the self — a cathartic experience that unfolded into an interactive journey for all who turned its pages.
As we venture through each chapter, readers are met with snippets of my own transformation. At the core of this introspective memoir is my personal battle with relationships, emotions, and growth. They are not merely stories but lessons woven intricately into every word, making it not just my narrative but a saga that many may find comfortingly relatable.
“Dairy of Cliches” uniquely pivots around universal themes like self-discovery, personal evolution, navigating complex webs of relationships, coping with raw emotions such as anger, guilt, and most importantly, setting and refining life’s goals.
Each theme emerges from my chronicles sharply mirroring my own trials and triumphs. As I paint vivid portraits of my emotional battles, I infuse each passage with prompts, nudging readers towards self-reflection and presenting opportunities to dissect their feelings and aspirations just as I did, the Diary being my confidant, my companion, my partner in crime.
The brilliance of “Diary of Cliches” lies in its ability to inspire readers to embark on parallel journeys of self-discovery guided by my personal experiences while injecting their own path with their uniquely personalized discoveries. Its essence influxes elements such as identifying strengths and weaknesses and motivating person-specific goal setting.
In the realm of relationships, whether they are familial connections or romantic involvements, the Diary’s words serve as lucid guidance bolstered by my touching anecdotes. The Diary gently motivates the reader turned co-author to navigate these tricky terrains with newfound understanding and resilience.
Emotions – the most profound yet elusive aspect of our existence – find ample breathing space within “Diary of Cliches”. My explorations of my own anger and guilt pave the way for readers to confront and comprehend their own emotional patterns more effectively.
In today’s fast-paced world, where each of us is incessantly running a thousand miles, “Diary of Cliches” acts as a comforting pit-stop. It creates an inviting oasis of self-reflection, pushing pause on the rampant race outside to focus on the enriching journey within.
Whether you are at the precipice of self-discovery or have been steering through, “Diary of Cliches”
The question is deceptively simple. It appears at dinner parties, on application forms, in coaching sessions, and in the quiet corners of our own minds. What’s your dream job?
Most people answer with a title. Author. Founder. Artist. Consultant. Professor. Something that fits neatly into a LinkedIn headline and earns polite nods of approval. But the longer I sit with this question, the more I realise that job titles are a convenient distraction. They are placeholders for something deeper we are often afraid to name.
Because what most of us are really searching for is not a job. It is meaning with momentum. It is expression without invisibility. It is work that matters—and is seen to matter.
This is where the question becomes uncomfortable.
The Myth of the Dream Job
The modern myth suggests that if you find your dream job, everything else falls into place. Fulfilment. Recognition. Financial stability. Validation. The market, we’re told, will reward authenticity.
But anyone who has tried to build something original—especially in the creative or intellectual economy—knows how fragile this myth is.
You can do work that is thoughtful, rigorous, emotionally honest—and still be ignored.
You can write a book that carries years of lived experience and deep insight—and watch it disappear into the algorithmic abyss.
The silence that follows is not just professional. It is existential.
This is the moment most people don’t talk about when they talk about dream jobs.
When Passion Meets the Market
A dream job today often involves creating rather than merely occupying. Writing books. Building platforms. Offering ideas, frameworks, perspectives. We are told to “share our voice” and “put our work out there.”
What we are rarely taught is how the market listens.
The gap between creative intent and market response is where many dream jobs quietly die. Not because the work lacks quality, but because its creator mistakes depth for visibility, sincerity for resonance, and effort for alignment.
This is especially true in publishing.
Writing a book feels like the ultimate expression of intellectual authority. It is slow work. Solitary work. Honest work. And when the book doesn’t sell, the conclusion many authors draw is painfully personal: Maybe my work isn’t good enough.
In reality, the failure is rarely artistic. It is structural.
Authority Is Not What We Think It Is
We often assume authority comes from expertise alone. From knowing more. From having lived more. From having something “important” to say.
But authority, in the real world, emerges at the intersection of three forces:
Clarity of message
Emotional resonance
Market positioning
Miss one, and even the most intelligent work struggles to survive.
This is the uncomfortable truth behind many dream jobs that stall. We learn the craft. We refine the thinking. We do the inner work. But we never learn how value is perceived, not just created.
And perception, whether we like it or not, is shaped by psychology, language, and money.
The Silent Education Gap
No one tells you that selling a book—or an idea—is not a betrayal of integrity. It is an act of translation.
The market does not reject nuance; it rejects confusion. It does not punish depth; it punishes obscurity. And it does not reward effort; it rewards connection.
This gap—between what creators believe should matter and what actually reaches people—is what inspired Why Is Nobody Buying My Book? Not as a marketing manual, but as a mirror.
Because the real crisis isn’t unsold books. It’s the quiet erosion of confidence that follows. The slow decoupling of self-worth from work. The temptation to either shout louder or disappear entirely.
Neither leads to a dream job.
Redefining the Dream
A dream job, I’ve come to believe, is not one where you are endlessly inspired. It is one where your work travels. Where it finds its readers, users, clients, or audience without requiring you to become someone you are not.
It is work that understands the emotional economy it operates in. That respects attention as a scarce resource. That speaks with people, not at them.
It is also work that allows you to remain whole when outcomes fluctuate.
Because markets are unpredictable. Algorithms shift. Sales dip. Silence returns. The dream job is not immune to these realities—it is resilient in the face of them.
The Question Beneath the Question
So when someone asks, What’s your dream job? I no longer answer with a role.
I answer with a condition.
To create meaningful work. To understand how it lands. To bridge the gap between inner truth and outer traction. To remain intact when the market responds slowly.
That, ultimately, is what most creators are searching for—whether they are writing books, building businesses, or offering ideas to the world.
And that is the conversation we need to have more honestly.
Not just about dreams—but about what it takes for them to survive contact with reality.
A good leader isn’t the loudest voice in the room. It’s the one that stays steady when the room gets noisy.
I didn’t learn this in a leadership workshop or from a glossy business book. I learned it the slow way—through moments that felt anything but instructional at the time. Moments of uncertainty, exhaustion, reinvention, and the quiet reckoning that comes when the rules you thought were fixed suddenly change overnight.
For a long time, I believed leadership meant endurance. That if I just worked harder, stayed sharper, said yes more often, and pushed through discomfort, everything else would fall into place. This belief was rewarded—until it wasn’t. The higher I climbed, the more invisible the cracks became. Burnout doesn’t announce itself with drama. It seeps in quietly, turning decisiveness into hesitation and confidence into fatigue. I learned quickly that burnout isn’t a personal failure; it’s a leadership problem—because it spreads. A tired leader doesn’t just suffer alone. The exhaustion ripples outward.
In About Life Choices & Potholes, leadership appears not as authority, but as responsibility—to oneself first, and then to others. One of the hardest lessons I had to learn was when to pause instead of push. In professional spaces, momentum is worshipped. Pausing is often misread as weakness. But there were moments when stopping—taking stock, admitting I didn’t have all the answers—was the most honest form of leadership I could offer.
Some of my most defining leadership moments came when information was incomplete. When decisions had to be made without certainty—during visa upheavals, career disruptions, and organizational changes that offered no clear playbook. I learned that leadership is rarely about making the right decision. It’s about making a thoughtful one, standing by it, and being willing to course-correct without ego.
I also learned how easily “being dependable” can turn into self-erasure. I was often the one holding space—for teams, for friends, for family—believing that leadership meant being endlessly available. Over time, I realized that holding space for others while abandoning yourself is not leadership; it’s slow attrition. A leader who disappears internally cannot show up fully for anyone else.
The leaders who stayed with me—who shaped how I now think about work and life—were not the ones with the most polished answers. They were the ones who listened before reacting. Who acknowledged uncertainty instead of masking it. Who understood that clarity is far more powerful than control.
Leadership today exists in a landscape of constant change. Policies shift. Markets move. Personal lives intersect with professional demands in ways we can no longer pretend are separate. In this environment, certainty is an illusion. The strongest leaders I know don’t pretend the road is smooth. They walk alongside their teams, naming the potholes as they appear and trusting people enough to navigate them together.
A good leader doesn’t promise ease. They offer steadiness.
They don’t dominate the room. They anchor it.
And perhaps most importantly, they understand that leadership is not about having all the answers—it’s about creating enough trust that people are willing to walk with you, even when the path ahead is unclear.
My first name, Kshitija, comes from Sanskrit. It means that which is born of the earth—the horizon where sky and land meet, a liminal line that exists not as a thing you can touch, but as a promise you keep walking toward. It is a word rooted in soil and sky at once, carrying the weight of belonging and the ache of longing. A name that suggests expansion without arrival, grounding without stagnation. From the beginning, it implies a life lived in between: between places, between selves, between what is and what could be.
That is where Kayra was born—from the same threshold. Though her name travels a different linguistic road, its spirit mirrors mine. Kayra, in many cultures, is associated with creation, continuity, and the unseen force that moves through nature rather than dominates it. Where Kshitija is the horizon, Kayra is the wind that moves toward it—not hurried, not fixed, but inevitable. Both names carry a quiet resilience, a femininity that does not perform itself loudly but endures, observes, holds.
In Finding Noir, Kayra does not chase meaning; she recognizes it as something that unfolds through presence. Much like my name, her journey is not about conquest or arrival but about learning to stay—with uncertainty, with love, with absence. Kshitija taught me early that I would never be just one thing or belong to just one place. Kayra lives that truth on the page. She is not the destination of my story; she is its horizon.
In that way, writing Kayra felt less like invention and more like translation. Of taking the essence of my name—its earthiness, its quiet vastness, its eternal in-between—and letting it walk, speak, love, and lose. Both Kshitija and Kayra stand at the edge of something immense, not to cross it, but to witness it. And perhaps to invite the reader to stand there too.
And standing there—at that edge—does something subtle but irreversible. It strips away the urgency to define, to label, to arrive. The horizon teaches patience. It teaches that distance is not denial, and waiting is not weakness. Kshitija, as a name, carries this lesson quietly: you do not collapse into what you love, nor do you possess it. You remain present, rooted, and receptive.
Kayra inherits this wisdom not as philosophy, but as instinct. When Noir runs, when silence replaces certainty, she does not shrink to fill the void. She expands around it. This is the inheritance of the horizon—to hold vastness without panic. To understand that what leaves is not always lost, and what stays is not always visible. Kayra’s strength is not in pursuit, but in her capacity to remain open without self-erasure.
There is a particular loneliness in being named after a threshold. People expect decisiveness, arrival, resolution. But Kshitija—and Kayra—know better. They know that some lives are meant to be lived in motion, not forward, but inward. That love can be real even when it is unconsummated, unfinished, or unreturned in the ways stories usually demand.
In writing Finding Noir, I realized that Kayra was not my alter ego; she was my echo. She spoke the parts of me that learned to trust the unseen—to trust that meaning does not always announce itself with permanence. Sometimes it appears as a fleeting glance, a shared stillness, a resonance that survives separation.
If Kshitija is the place where earth meets sky, then Kayra is the act of standing there without asking the horizon to come closer. And Noir—perhaps—was never meant to be held, only encountered. A reminder that some connections exist not to anchor us, but to awaken us.
This book exists at the intersection of creativity and capitalism, sincerity and visibility. It examines what it means to make work that matters to you in systems that reward what performs best.
Rather than rejecting ambition or romanticizing obscurity, this book stays with the tension. It asks how to remain truthful while participating in economies that demand translation.
My mission here is not reassurance. It is companionship—for artists navigating the quiet despair of metrics, algorithms, and unanswered effort.
If you’ve ever wondered whether integrity has a place in public life, this book does not answer the question. It sits with it.
When was the last time you felt loved in a positive way?
I don’t mean noticed. I don’t mean liked, admired, validated, or briefly chosen.
I mean loved—in a way that softened you instead of tightening you. In a way that didn’t ask you to perform, impress, or disappear parts of yourself to stay worthy.
For me, that question used to be uncomfortable.
For a long time, love arrived in fragments. In attention that felt intoxicating but unstable. In conversations that went deep too fast. In connections that burned bright and vanished quietly. I mistook intensity for intimacy. I mistook longing for love. And because I’m good with words, because I live in my head, because I exist comfortably in digital spaces, I learned how to feel close to someone without ever being held by them.
Online, love is easy to simulate.
You can craft sentences that sound like devotion. You can show up at 2 a.m. with the perfect reply. You can be endlessly available without being fully present. You can feel wanted without being known. And for a while, that feels like enough—especially if you’re lonely, especially if you’re searching, especially if you’ve learned to survive on crumbs of connection.
But positive love—real love—does something quieter.
It doesn’t spike your nervous system. It doesn’t make you anxious about timing or tone. It doesn’t leave you staring at your phone, rereading messages, wondering if you imagined everything.
Positive love feels steady. It feels safe in your body. It doesn’t rush you toward a future that never arrives. It doesn’t live only in “tomorrow.”
I didn’t fully understand that until I started writing Fever Dreams.
Dev and Mira were born out of that question—when was the last time you felt loved in a good way? Their connection begins the way so many modern connections do: online, intense, emotionally naked, intoxicating. They say the things people don’t usually say out loud. They share fears, loneliness, desire. And for a while, it feels profound. It feels rare. It feels like love.
But slowly, something fractures.
The waiting stretches. The meeting is postponed. “Tomorrow” becomes a promise that never quite arrives. What once felt like closeness starts to feel like absence. The love that was supposed to save them begins to hollow them out instead.
Fever Dreams isn’t a romance about happy endings. It’s a story about emotional intimacy without physical grounding. About how digital connection can make us feel deeply seen—and deeply alone at the same time. About how longing can masquerade as love when we’re starved for tenderness.
Writing this book forced me to confront my own patterns. The ways I romanticized emotional distance. The ways I accepted uncertainty as passion. The ways I confused being chosen in words with being held in reality.
And somewhere along the way, my answer to that question changed.
The last time I felt loved in a positive way wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t overwhelming. It didn’t arrive in a flurry of messages or promises.
It felt calm. It felt grounded. It didn’t leave me questioning my worth or waiting for proof. It didn’t live only in my head.
That’s what Fever Dreams is really asking its readers to sit with:
Is the love you’re holding onto expanding you—or consuming you? Does it bring you closer to yourself—or further away? Does it exist in reality—or only in possibility?
If you’ve ever loved someone you never quite touched. If you’ve ever waited for a “tomorrow” that kept moving. If you’ve ever felt deeply connected and profoundly alone at the same time—
This book was written for you.
And maybe, by the end of it, you’ll have a clearer answer to that question too.
For the longest time, I believed clutter was a physical problem. Too many books on the shelf. Too many cables in drawers whose original purpose no one remembered. Too many mugs for a person who drinks tea from exactly one favorite cup.
So I did what most of us do. I organized. I donated. I folded. I labeled.
And yet, the noise remained.
It took a life reset—one I didn’t plan, didn’t ask for, and certainly didn’t romanticize—to realize that the real clutter in my life wasn’t visible. It lived elsewhere. In decisions postponed. In identities I carried long after they stopped fitting. In the quiet pressure to explain myself to everyone but me.
When I moved back to India after two decades in the U.S., I arrived with two suitcases and an unsettling amount of emotional excess. Jet lag peeled me open. The airport smelled like disinfectant, overripe fruit, and familiarity I wasn’t ready to embrace. Everyone moved fast. I moved cautiously. I had less stuff than I’d ever owned—and more mental clutter than ever before.
Clutter, I learned, doesn’t announce itself as chaos. It disguises itself as responsibility.
I had cluttered my life with “shoulds.” I should stick it out a little longer. I should aim higher. I should be grateful, not confused. I should already know who I am by now.
These thoughts piled up quietly, like unopened mail. Each one harmless on its own. Together, overwhelming.
Career clutter was the heaviest. Titles I no longer believed in. Definitions of success that felt borrowed. Resumes that flattened entire decades of living into bullet points that read like a stranger’s life. I kept polishing them, convinced clarity would arrive in the next version. It didn’t.
Then there was relational clutter—the conversations replayed in my head long after they had ended. The people I kept holding space for while standing in the dark myself. The breadcrumbs I mistook for nourishment.
At some point, exhaustion does what discipline cannot. It forces honesty.
I stopped trying to optimize my life and began subtracting instead.
I reduced clutter by letting go of the need to justify my choices. By accepting that not every pothole needs a lesson immediately. By allowing my days to be quieter, slower, less impressive.
I reduced clutter by trusting my body—its hunger, its fatigue, its instinct to pause. By fasting not to purify, but to listen. By realizing that I didn’t need a diagnosis to explain my sensitivity or restlessness. I didn’t need a label to be allowed to be me.
And perhaps most importantly, I reduced clutter by loosening my grip on certainty.
Life didn’t become simpler overnight. But it became lighter.
Clutter isn’t always about excess. Sometimes it’s about holding on too tightly to a version of yourself that once made sense.
About Life Choices & Potholes is a story about those moments—when subtraction becomes survival, and letting go becomes the bravest decision you make.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed, maybe the question isn’t what you need to add.
For the longest time, I didn’t have an answer. Or rather, I had many—changing with the season, with the mood, with the version of myself I happened to be inhabiting that year. But if I’m honest, the answer that has followed me most faithfully is this: the tortoise and the hare.
Not as animals in the wild, but as archetypes. As ways of moving through the world.
The tortoise knows something the world keeps forgetting. That life is not a sprint. That arrival is less important than attention. That wisdom accumulates quietly, like sediment, invisible until it becomes unshakeable. The tortoise doesn’t rush toward meaning; she lets meaning meet her where she stands. She carries her home on her back. She doesn’t abandon herself to be loved.
And then there is the hare. Brilliant, restless, dazzling in motion. The hare is desire incarnate—speed, charm, urgency. He lives in the future tense, always chasing the next horizon, always one step ahead of his own fear. The world applauds the hare. He looks like freedom. But what no one tells you is that speed is often a disguise. Sometimes, the fastest ones are running from something they don’t yet know how to hold.
Finding Noir was born from this tension.
Kayra is the tortoise—not because she is slow, but because she is deliberate. She stays. She listens. She holds space even when it costs her something. Noir is the hare—quick to love, quicker to flee. He runs not because he doesn’t care, but because caring asks him to stop.
This is not a fable about who wins. It is a story about what happens when two ways of being collide. When stillness meets velocity. When love asks not to be chased, but to be endured.
So if you ask me today, “What’s your favorite animal?” I’ll tell you this: I love the one who stays. And I love the one who runs—until he learns why.
Finding Noir is a meditation on love that isn’t tidy, timing that isn’t kind, and connection that doesn’t disappear just because someone leaves. It’s for anyone who has ever loved across different speeds, different fears, different readiness.
Some of us are born tortoises. Some of us are hares. And sometimes, loving is learning how to meet each other on the same path—without asking either to become something they’re not.
I used to believe clichés were for people who hadn’t thought hard enough.
Then I lived them.
Diary of Clichés is written from the uncomfortable space of recognition—when irony gives way to empathy, and judgment softens into understanding. It examines why certain patterns repeat, not because we lack imagination, but because we are human.
This book treats clichés as data points rather than embarrassments. Evidence of shared experience rather than personal failure.
My mission here is to replace self-contempt with curiosity. To suggest that becoming “that person” may be less about hypocrisy and more about growth.
If a line in this book makes you wince before it makes you laugh, you’re reading it correctly.
Kay’s Odyssey 