Today marks the first unlimited release of my writing course, Hate Writing Less. It is designed to help you achieve a new level of creative freedom.
This page will tell you all about it, and allow you to order it. Here is a sample video, if you’d like to get a sense of how the course feels.
Some people have said nice things about it. Here is one set of remarks, from Jake Orthwein:
“Ostensibly a course about writing, this is actually a masterclass in discovering and unsticking the various blocks and neuroses that keep creativity from flowing.
It’s part nuts-and-bolts instruction, part therapy, part spiritual transmission.
Better than writing advice, it feels like advice about how to be the kind of person from whom writing effortlessly flows. And it works.”
Yay! Thank you Jake!
All the relevant information is in the links above. What follows is not information you need to buy it.
A friend of mine has told me that this course will make me a millionaire. This is, in principle, possible—there has been a fair amount of enthusiasm for the product so far. But it’s also possible that this course sells nearly zero. I will not be pleased if nobody gives me money for this, but, even if that does happen, I will have gained something from making this.
Increasingly, I am convinced that a huge part of creating the life you want is crossing your personal boundaries of cringe, the walls of embarrassment that restrict your behavior. And, wow, has this course ever been that thing. I spent decades detesting my face. Now I’ve had to become accustomed to all of its weirdness through watching it flap and wobble in various ways in Final Cut Pro. For years, my aspiration was to be either glamorously poor or quietly rich, and I tried to avoid projecting any sense that I was trying to achieve any particular outcome, economic or otherwise. Now I am assembling landing pages and email sequences and stuff.
I’m trying to be more embarrassed, more often. My writing has a part to play in this, too. For a long time, my goal with writing was not to be understood, or connect, but to make something that made me look good—to weave an impressive-looking brocade of literariness. Over the past few years, I have tried to go in the opposite direction. It’s not that I don’t care about literariness. But, over the course of doing this Substack, I have tried to tease out which of my aesthetic priorities come from a genuine passion for beauty, and which come from a desire to stay hidden. I’ve been trying to answer the question: can I bring myself to act as if I want to be seen and absorbed—a desire I actually have, but have been afraid, sometimes, to fully commit to?
Thank you Sasha for creating this resource! I can't think of anyone I would rather learn from when it comes to improving my writing skills.
Just here to say that I've started the writing course, and it's eminently practical, warm, funny, and so wise. Couldn't be happier with it. Highly recommend!