Today I went for a drive in the local area here in Green Bay, Wisconsin. The sun was shining and the warmth of the day was activating the smell of the pine trees. The windows were down, and the breeze was blowing in my hair. And as we drove through the tree-lined streets, I thought about who I am and who I am becoming.
In a world where almost everyone online is a “content creator,” calling yourself a writer feels like a quiet, beautiful rebellion.
You’re not a brand. Not a marketer. Not an algorithm-powered machine churning out cheesy optimized content on a BS content calendar.
A writer.
The work is yours, the ideas are yours, and your name is yours.
A writer isn’t just someone who spits out words. A writer listens…to the soul, to the silence, to what’s trying to be spoken when the world is too loud to hear it. A writer sometimes trembles while typing the truth... and then presses publish anyway.
I’ve written a few bestselling books, but “bestselling author” has never fully captured what writing truly means to me.
Writing is devotion. It’s a form of becoming, again and again, with every chapter. And it’s the ability to sit in the discomfort of creativity and keep writing no matter what. To call yourself a writer means that your work becomes an extension of yourself.
Writing is about channeling something larger than you into something human, vulnerable, and real. This is where you can offer your readers the most amount of transformative value. And now more than ever, it feels like it could become a dying art faster than we know. Because while the world rushes to automate, generate, and optimize, lately I’ve been choosing to slow down and feel.
I used to hustle and work on a screen until I looked like I had a nasty case of pink-eye. That left me in a crusty burnt-out state of overwhelm to say the very least.
However, something magical happened when I wrote my last book (Dear Universe 365) - I choose to remember that writing isn’t performance. It’s presence.
It’s bringing forth what’s asking to be created through you, without needing it to be perfect.
True writing bleeds more than a regular menstrual cycle.
It aches. It listens before it speaks. It arrives when a part of you finally surrenders to what’s been waiting to move through you like the first deep breath after you’ve been underwater for too long…*gasp*.
It’s also important to note that no machine can mimic the alchemy of a human heart mid-revelation. Because as a writer, you are the instrument. Imagine yourself as a world-class triangle player perhaps. Okay, more seriously though…
You are the channel. You are the sacred technology.
When you write, you’re not just typing words, you’re flowing with the possibility of newness.
You let the Divine move through your fingertips. You let the mundane become sacred by the way you name it. You remember what others have forgotten.
You feel. You remember. You embody.
To be a writer in this era is to choose soul over speed and definitely depth over dopamine. It’s a true honor to walk the path of being a writer and to create through the creative channel of being unapologetically yourself.
Speaking truth, blessing what’s here, and naming what you desire are all rituals of manifestation. Keep writing.
With Love & Gratitude,
Sarah Prout xo
Bestselling Author | Writer of Sacred Manifestation
Thanks so much for sharing.
I love the state of surrender and peace that you shared just now.