How to Become a Writer

More often than you might expect, I get questions about how to become a writer. Specifically, how to become a writer online. Just this morning, for instance, I spent half an hour on the phone with Kimberlee, who wants to make the move from academic to science writer but doesn’t know where to start.

I don’t feel like an expert on this subject — far from it — but I do have some opinions based on my personal experience. Here’s my advice for folks who want to become writers:

Tell stories. When I speak at conferences, I try to hammer home this point. My talk at the first Fincon was about the power of story. I’ve stressed the importance of story at the Savvy Blogging Summit. For WDS 2013, I secretly fostered a story-based theme among the keynote speakers. Why? Because people relate to stories. Even if they can’t identify with you and your specific circumstances, stories help them relate to the point you’re trying to make. Story provides context. It’s illustrative. It’s one thing to describe the dangers of credit cards; it’s another to share actual anecdotes of people who’ve spent years trying to recover from stupid spending. When possible, tell a story.

Be conversational. In college, I was taught to write in an academic style. Contractions were frowned upon. First person was forbidden. Everything was formal. As a result, everything was also lifeless and dull. In time, I’ve come to realize that good writing — especially for mass consumption — is conversational. In fact, when I work with actual magazine and book editors, they often ask me to be even more informal than I alraedy am. (I didn’t fully embrace contractions until working on Your Money: The Missing Manual. My editor was changing every instance of “you will” to “you’ll”, etc., which helped me realize that contractions make things easier to read. They’re an ally, not an enemy!)

Develop your voice. Fifteen years ago, when I began to get serious about writing, my stories mimicked other authors. I wrote a story that was a combination of Charles Dickens and Patrick Süskind. I wrote a story that was all Faulkner and one that was clearly an homage to Hemingway. This sort of imitation is natural, but it’s not sustainable. In time, I found my own voice. I learned to write like J.D. Roth instead of like somebody else. Write in a way that feels easy to you. That’s your voice.

Hone your craft. The best writers I know work to improve their skills. They read voraciously; as they do, they pay attention to how good writing works. After reading a great piece, they re-read it to find the form and struture. I once attended a reading by David Sedaris. I was fascinated by the way he’d calmly make a mark on the page every time the audience roared with laughter. He was learning from his audience — and I was learning from him. Good writers also take classes and read writing manuals (such as those listed below). Real writers generate a ton of material that never sees publication. I write all day long, but only about ten percent of what I produce ever sees the light of day. The rest is practice.

Edit, edit, edit. Eighty percent of writing is editing. Okay, that’s not a scientific number, but you get the idea. You should spend more time editing a piece than you do writing it — generally much more time. When I was younger, I was one of those stereotypical writers who thought his work was art. It was sacred. Criticism bothered me, and I hated when others offered suggestions for improvement. When somebody edited my work, I felt like they were saying I’d done something wrong. After nearly a decade of writing every day, I have a different perspective. My goal is to communicate clearly with my audience. To do that, I need to edit my own material. I need to polish it, smoothing away the rough edges. And if other people want to help me do that work, so much the better!

Write. If you want to be a writer, you have to write. Thinking about writing doesn’t make you a writer, and neither does talking about writing. A writer writes. End of story.

None of this is new, I know. But there’s a reason everyone offers the same advice. It’s because these are the things you need to do to become an effective writer. Like anything else, it takes practices to get good at this job. I often think of Malcolm Gladwell’s point in Outliers. He notes that research indicates that it takes about 10,000 hours of practice to become truly proficient at a skill. That’s five years of full-time work. Over the past decade, I estimate I’ve spent around 15,000 hours writing — maybe more. That’s enough time for me to feel comfortable with my craft, to reach a level where I can confidently say, “Yes, I’m a writer.”

At dinner recently, Kathleen (of Frugal Portland) and I talked about writing. She thinks she might register for a community college writing class to improve her skills.

“That’s a great idea,” I said. “I do that every few years. I know I write well, but there’s always room for improvement. I learn tons every time I take a class. And since one of my goals for 2014 is to write a novel, I feel like I should take a class again soon.”

Kathleen showed me the book she was reading, If You Want to Write by Brenda Ueland. “Have you heard of it?” she asked. “It’s awesome. She wrote it in 1938 as a guide to her writing students, but a lot of it isn’t even about writing. For instance, she talks about how you can jump-start the creative process just by going for a walk. She used to walk several miles a day, and she says it helped her write better.”

I smiled. “Yes, I’ve heard of the book,” I said. “It’s one of my favorites.” I opened Kathleen’s copy to the first page and pointed to the title of the first chapter: Everyone is talented, original, and has something important to say. “I’ve incorporated that idea into my personal philosophy. I truly believe it.”

“In fact, this is one of the books I push on people all the time. I always have a few copies on hand to give to aspiring writers. I have three at home write now.” (Actually, it turns out I have four copies here in my office.)

“Would you be interested in a list of my favorite books about writing?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” Kathleen said.

“Done,” I said.

Here are three of my favorite books about writing:

If You Want to Write by Brenda Ueland. This is an inspirational book that many return to in order to escape the dreaded writer’s block. (In fact, I may re-read a bit of it later today.)
On Writing Well by William Zinsser. This book is primarily about writing nonfiction. It offers lots of advice about the actual craft of writing, including clarity, revision, tone, and more. This is another book I keep on hand to give away. (Also see Writing to Learn by the same author.)
Weinberg on Writing: The Fieldstone Method by Gerald M. Weinberg. This flawed but brilliant manual describes the author’s method for organizing writing ideas. It’s sort of a left-brained approach to a write-brained activity. I think it’s especially useful for bloggers and magazine columnists.

There are many other books I like, including:

Steering the Craft by Ursula K. LeGuin
Writing Without the Muse by Beth Baruch Joselow
Writing Down the Bones by Natlaie Goldberg
On Writing by Stephen King
Writing with Power by Peter Elbow

Many people I know like Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott (although, curiously, none of these people are writers). Most folks love Lamott’s style. I don’t. She has some good things to say, but I find her manner twee. It’s grating. I’m in a small minority, though, and you will probably love her, just like everybody else.

Every writer has room for improvement. Most of us write every day, and that’s great — that’s the best way to develop skill — but there are other things we could (and should) do to hone our craft. Take classes. Join writing groups. Read books. And, most of all, occasionally do work that requires an editor.

Paperback Writer

Last week, I wrote about how I’m trying to focus on just one thing at a time in my professional life. Instead of tackling many projects at once — preventing me from giving my full attention to any of them — I’m instead devoting my attention to a single job. It makes me happier and more productive.

This new productivity method doesn’t keep me from dreaming, however. I still have lots of ideas on the backburner, and I’m eager to get started on each of them.

One idea that really has me excited is a return to writing fiction.

You see, I never set out to become a personal-finance writer. I stumbled into that career. And as much as I love it, there’s a part of me that still wants to write poetry and science fiction and literary short stories.

I wrote a lot of poetry during high school and college, but this urge has faded in adulthood. I think this is the last poem I wrote myself (in March 2005):

Like a Lion

The coming of Spring is a violent thing:
The tulips proclaim their riotous hues
While peas and then carrots have thrust their way through
the crust of the earth (swollen and muddy).

The apples and cherries and plums are now budding.
The camelias are flinging their petals en masse —
Bright-colored habits for shaggy-haired grass.

The Earth’s in rebellion! Again has grown bold!
Has dethroned Old Winter, destroying his hold
On daylight and sunshine and the world out-of-doors.
Spring has arrived: Hear how she roars!

As my poetical self has diminished, a different sort of writer has emerged. I want to tell stories. For several years, I took writing classes intermittently at the local community college. As a result, I produced half a dozen short stories like this one [DOC file].

I used to think my writing sucked. I don’t think that anymore. I’ve been writing full-time for nearly a decade, and I’ve had a lot of practice. Sure, there’s more improvement to be had, but that’s why I’m constantly reading writing manuals, and that’s why I want to take another writing class when January rolls around.

This time, I want to try something different. This time, I want to write a novel. Perhaps a children’s novel.

I’ve always loved a certain type of book, one that describes the adventures (and/or misadventures) of a group of smart kids living in a small town. Examples include The Mad Scientists’ Club by Bertrand Brinley (holy cats! look at those Amazon reviews — 61 five-star, two four-star, and one three-star!), The Great Brain by John D. Fitzgerald (another five-star book at Amazon!), and To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. I think it’d be fun to tackle a similar world, although I’m still not clear on what sort of conflict/plot my story would involve. (I do have some characters and scenes in my head, though. And because Kim also grew up in a small town, I listen to her stories with great interest!)

So, my goal for 2014 is to return to writing fiction. I have a lot of other things that must get finished first. I have to finish my ebook. I have to start a digital magazine. I have to help Kim launch her website. I have to start a new website (or two) of my own. And I have to begin organizing a retreat with Harlan and Jim. But after all that? Yeah, I’m going to write a novel.

One Thing at a Time

I wrote recently that I’ve begun the Scrawny to Brawny fitness regimen. After ten days, I like it — but I also find it a little frustrating. I want more to happen NOW! but instead must wait patiently as the program guides me through gradual change.

You see, the folks who designed Scrawny to Brawny are clever. Instead of giving participants a basket full of changes and asking us to implement them all at once, they instead ask us to modify one thing at a time. After we’ve had time to build one habit, they add another. And another. They want us to get fit slowly.

Intellectually, I recognize that this is the right way to do things in order to achieve lasting change. Research indicates that both attention and willpower are depletable — each of us has a finite supply of them. If we try to do too much or try to make too many changes at once, we’re less likely to succeed than if we make small moves or tackle only a few things at a time.

So, it makes sense for the Scrawny to Brawny system to first ask participants to get in the habits of going to the gym and drinking three “super shakes” every day first before diving deeper into the program.

Over the past few years, I’ve tried to apply a similar principle to my own life.

Every January, for instance, I choose one major goal for the year. Instead of creating a list of resolutions, I pick one thing that I’d really like to improve, and that becomes my focus for twelve months. That’s how 2010 became the “year of fitness”. (To be honest, I’ve actually found that I can handle a few things at a time — as long as these goals are from different domains. In other words, I can handle one fitness goal, one finance goal, and one professional goal simultaneously, but not three finance goals.)

In 2012, I tried something a little different. It worked.

My friend Castle told me she’d started a new project. Each day, she tried one new thing. Maybe it was a new food. Maybe it was a new exercise. Maybe it was a new TV show. One day, she decided to try making more eye contact with people. “It was amazing,” she told me. People responded much more positively to her.

“I don’t keep all of the changes I make,” Castle explained. “The goal is just to try something new for one day. If I don’t like it, I don’t need to continue. But it doesn’t hurt me to try anything for just one day, right?”

In 2012, instead of doing one new thing each day, I decided to focus on doing one new thing each month. But I tried to make these changes bigger.

In March, I had lunch or dinner with a different friend every day. This let me reconnect with some people I’d been missing.

In April, I embarked upon an Extreme Dating Project. My goal was to date as many different women as possible. April was a fun month.

Then I made it a goal to go to the gym every day in May.

In June, my aim was to eat “no junk in June”. I focused on my diet, which helped me to lose five pounds and two percent body fat.

Perhaps my most successful month-long experiment came in January of this year, where I went “chemical-free”. I gave up caffeine and alcohol for thirty days to see how I felt. I felt great — something I’ve been reminding myself lately as I feel run-down. (Maybe it’s time to try that experiment again?)

Lately, I’ve applied the “one thing at a time” idea to a different part of my life. In general, I tend to take on too much work. I’m usually juggling several projects at once. As a result, I don’t do any of them to the best of my ability.

Kim was listening to me list the various things I want to do — write an ebook, write a real book, produce a conference, hold a retreat, start a new blog, start another blog, start a third blog, start a consulting business with friends, and so on — when she offered a suggestion: “Why not just do one thing at a time and then move on to another one?”

Obvious, right? Not to me.

Since returning from Ecuador, I’ve put Kim’s advice into practice. I’ve been focusing on a single project: an ebook about money. Even with this constant focus, the work has taken longer than I’d hoped (and anticipated). I’m not sure what would have happened if I’d allowed myself to try to tackle several things at once! Still, I know I’m doing quality work, and that offers solace. If I’m focused on only one thing and I’m doing the best I can do, there’s not much more I can ask of myself.

I’m now a convert to the “one thing at a time” approach to my work.

A few weeks ago, Kim gave me a small stone into which was carved a single word: Balance. Kris used to urge me to find equilibrium too. I have a tendency to be “all or nothing”, as many people have noticed — even blog readers. The “one thing at a time” method is a sort of lifehack to force me to stay balanced when my natural tendency is to take on too much.

Ideally, of course, I’d find a way to integrate a couple of ongoing projects into my life at the same time that I tackle a single major project. To an extent, I do this. I continue to write my weekly column at Get Rich Slowly, for example, and I’m doing my best to make it to exercise every day. But I’m only able to do these things because they are habits, deeply ingrained into my daily life. I don’t have to think about them. They don’t add much to my mental burden, don’t deplete my attention or willpower in the same way a second or third major project would.

In time, maybe I can incorporate another blog (or two) into my daily routine in such a way that they don’t seem like major projects. Or maybe I can make it one of my major projects to set up systems to “harvest” information about Animal Intelligence and Awesome People efficiently so that writing these sites doesn’t take too much time and attention.

For now, however, I’m going to stick with what’s working. I’m going to tackle one thing at a time.

Scrawny to Brawny: Hydrostatic Testing

At the start of 2013, I vowed to re-dedicate myself to a focus on fitness. After two-and-a-half years of exercising and eating well, I’d let my attention to health and well-being slide a little, and I didn’t like it.

Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. I said fitness was a priority but my actions showed otherwise. I didn’t make it to the gym as often as I wanted and I rarely went for runs. After a one-month detox at the start of the year — no caffeine, no alcohol, low sugar, and so on — my diet became mediocre. It was never bad, really, meaning I didn’t fall into eating junk food on a regular basis, but it was never great either.

I’m not willing to keep coasting along, so I recently signed up for the one-year Scrawny to Brawny program. Though its name is funny, my research indicates that this coaching program (which is based on a book by the same name) is based on common sense and sound methodology. Because I do well with structure and feedback, this seems like a good choice for me. I’m going to give it a shot. My new fitness regimen starts today.

As part of that, I need to have accurate measurements of my body composition.

For the past few years, I’ve been using a scale with a body-composition monitor. This device, which provides accurate and consistent weight measurements (always a good thing in a scale!), uses electrical impedance to estimate body fat.

At the moment, I’m forty-four years old. I’m five feet, eight inches tall (173 centimeters). When I started using the scale in April 2010, my weight was 213 pounds (96.6 kilograms) and my body fat was 35.0%. My body-mass index (BMI) was 32.3. At my leanest in June 2012, my weight was 163 pounds (73.9 kilograms) and my body fat was 17.5%. My BMI was 24.7.

According to my scale, I lost fifty pounds and half my body fat in just over two years.

Today I weigh 176 pounds (79.8 kilograms) and my fancy scale says I’m 23.3% body fat. My BMI is 26.7. Over the past year, I’ve softened. I’ve exercised less and discovered a love for beer. This isn’t a great combination for a fitness-minded fellow!

For a while, I’ve understood that the body composition numbers from my scale probably aren’t accurate. Electrical impedance isn’t the most accurate method of measurement for this sort of thing. I’m okay with that, though, since the scale is cheap (as in, I already own it) and if I use sound methodology, I can at least get a good idea of how my body composition changes over time. That is, if I measure myself under the same conditions and at the same time every day, the variation in results will give me a good idea of what’s happening to my body.

Still, I’ve always wanted to get an accurate test from a trained professional. When I heard that Portland’s Adventist Medical Center offers body-composition testing, including the very accurate hydrostatic method, I scheduled an appointment.

I dropped by at noon last Friday to be tested. It was quick and easy.

First, the nurse measured my body composition using calipers. She pinched my skin and measured the thickness of the folds at seven different locations, including chest, belly, thigh, and so on. Next, she had me fully immerse myself in a tank of water four times. I brought a camera to film the process:

Sorry about the funky audio…

While I changed back into my street clothes, the nurse punched numbers into a computer. The results startled me. Kim teases me that I have some sort of body dysmorphia (and Kris would be inclined to agree with her, I’m sure), but I’ve always just laughed it off. Maybe she’s right. I feel f-a-t right now. I don’t like the way I look. And if anything, I believed my scale’s 23.3% body fat numbers were low. Well…

“Your results are remarkably consistent,” the nurse told me when she sat down to review the results with me.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, usually there’s a large variance between the results of these tests. Three to five percent is normal. Your results only vary by one-and-a-half percent. And if we leave out the least accurate method, there’s no statistical difference between the other two.”

Based on her measurements, here’s my current body composition:

I’m 5′ 8″ and weigh 176 pounds (which is what my home scale says).
Using the three-point skinfold method (which is a subset of the seven-fold method), I have 17.0% body fat. This method isn’t as accurate as its big brother, though.
Using the seven-point skinfold method, I have 18.5% body fat.
Using the hydrostatic method, which is most accurate, I have 18.3% body fat.

The nurse and I chatted about the results.

“Your results are fine,” she told me. “You’re within the healthy range. You have some extra fat in your belly, but I’d guess that’s because you drink too much.” I laughed because she’s right. “If you cut back on your drinking, that should go away.”

She asked why I wanted to get my body composition measured, and I told her that I was starting the Scrawny to Brawny program. She nodded. “That sounds like a fine idea,” she said. “But be careful. Most of my clients are athletes, and I see all kinds. Some use steroids; some don’t. When you go to the gym, give up the idea of ever looking like the guys with lots of muscles. For one thing, that’s not how you are built. For another, the guys who are ripped get that way artificially. When I measure powerlifters, the guys who get strong and build muscle naturally still look a little ‘soft’. That’s just how our bodies work.”

All of this is fascinating. I have no desire whatsoever to use steroids, so that’s not a concern. But I think the nurse sensed some of my body dysmorphia and was trying to set me up to have reasonable expectations. That’s a good thing.

Ultimately, my goal is to be happy and healthy. That means eating right and exercising regularly. I’ve seen that I’m good at this when I make it a priority and it becomes a habit. I’ve just let that lapse. Starting today, however, it’s back to the gym!

A Random Stack of Stuff

In a sad state of affairs, I managed to lock myself out of my own blog for a couple of weeks. For whatever reason, this site gets hammered by hackers. I took some security precautions to make things more difficult for them. As a side effect, I made them more difficult for myself. I couldn’t figure out how to log in!

I’m back now, though, with a stack of random stuff.

In the olden days, I would use a horizontal rule to separate sections of my posts. Will that still work? I’m experimenting to find out!

The condo is cold.

Both the thermostat and the stand-alone weather station say that it’s 68 degrees (20 degrees centigrade), which is supposed to be a comfortable room temperature, but my fingers and nose and toes are cold. My coffee is cold. I need a hot bath. Something tells me I’m not ready for winter. (And something else tells me it’s time to turn up the thermostat!)

I have a tendency to take on too much. Every opportunity sounds great, so I eagerly accept. It’s taken me years to tame this urge.

Kim has been encouraging me to reduce the quantity of things I’m involved with so that I can focus more on the quality. That’s a fine philosophy. She thinks I should take on no more than three major projects at a time, and she thinks it would be better if I kept it to two. Or one. I’ve been doing that for the past couple of months, and it’s working great. I’m able to do each of the things I choose to do with greater intensity.

(Kris’s response to this: “Ha! I wish you luck at narrowing down your activities. Kim is a good influence, it seems, and helps you control some of your self-destructive tendencies.” Who knew I had self-destructive tendencies?)

Even with this narrowed focus, I’m not getting everything done that I want.

Two weeks ago, I spent several days in St. Louis for Fincon, the Financial Blogger Conference. (This conference is about much more than blogging these days, though.)

I didn’t speak at Fincon this year. Instead, I volunteered to be emcee. I’ve decided that I’m done being scared to speak on stage, and I want to get better. I asked Philip, the conference organizer, if he’d like some help, and he said yes. So, I introduced speakers and made announcements from the main stage. It was fun!

But that week in St. Louis took time from my biggest project at the moment — producing a book about personal and financial independence. In theory, this is an ebook. And, in theory, the manuscript is due on Friday. It’s still possible I’ll meet that deadline, but more and more I suspect I’m going to need another week to finish.

On some levels, this delay is frustrating. It’s very important to me to meet my obligations to my “publisher”. At the same time, I’ve realized that this book could be a legacy project for me. In fact, I consider it my life’s work. It’s the culmination of everything I’ve been reading and writing and thinking about for the past decade. I have high hopes it could help many other people.

So, missing my deadline: bad — but not the end of the world.

Next year, I’m going to try something really different.

I hate deadlines. I’ve decided that next year will be the “year without deadlines”. I’m not going to take on any big projects with drop-dead due dates.

I have a couple of regular ongoing gigs that are time-sensitive, such as my column at Get Rich Slowly, but I won’t add any new deadlines, and I’ll try to minimize the effects of the deadlines I already have to deal with.

What I really want to do next year is turn my attention to fiction.

Before I stumbled into a career as a professional blogger, I wanted to write short stories. I took writing classes at local colleges, and participated in a monthly writing group. I loved it.

When Kim moved in last July, I was forced to sort through boxes of my old papers. As part of that process, I found some of my old stories. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed them. Not to be conceited, but at times I’m a damn fine writer!

Starting in January, I’m going to take another fiction writing class — my first one in a decade. My goal for 2014 is to write a novel, believe it or not, something I never thought I’d do.

I used to think I couldn’t tell a story. Now I know that’s not true. I can tell stories, and I can make them compelling. I just can’t do it out loud. My ADHD causes me to jump all over the place, which makes my stories incoherent. But on paper — or in pixels — I can edit myself. I can carefully craft the arc and flow of a story. I can tweak words and sentences until they’re just right.

Last night, I had the most hilarious nightmare.

The world was devastated by nuclear war. Cats, which had developed speech due to radioactive fallout, were Earth’s only hope of salvation, but they couldn’t be bothered. We’d prod and prod the brightest cats to take decisive action, but they’d only glower at us, lick their paws, and go back to sleep.

If our future depends on cats, we are doomed.

Ecuador 2013: A Short Visit to the Galápagos Islands

At last, after three weeks in Ecuador, I am home. I’ve actually been home for a week, but that week has been a whirlwind, and I’m only now finding time to write about the last half of my trip.

Put simply: The Galápagos Islands are amazing.

The Galápagos are filled with raw, natural beauty.

Most folks are familiar with the role this archipelago played in the history of science. As a naturalist aboard the HMS Beagle, the 26-year-old Charles Darwin spent several weeks surveying the flora and fauna of the Galápagos in 1835. His experiences there — and in South America an Australia — planted the seeds that grew into his theory of natural selection.

More than 25 years ago (!!!), I studied Darwin’s On the Origin of Species during my freshman year of college. Because of this, I thought I knew what to expect from the Galápagos. I was wrong.

“Are you my mother?

The Galápagos Islands are an archipelago of volcanic islands some 620 miles off the coast of Ecuador. They’re a chain of small land masses still in the process of creation, floating on the “conveyer belt” of the Earth’s crust. The youngest islands are still being molded by occasional volcanic eruptions. The older islands, however, have had millions of years to mature. They sport lush ecosystems filled with fascinating plants and animals.

There’s lots to see on the Galápagos…

Most Galápagos tours are land-based. You fly to one of the handful of small towns and take day trips to nearby points of interest. I chose a boat-based trip through G Adventures, and I’m glad I did. My six-day tour included three nights aboard ship and visits to five of the thirteen major islands. It wasn’t enough. I plan to return to see everything at some point in the not-too-distant future.

From our yacht, we took dinghies to the shore…

…where landfall was easier for some than others.

You have to be willing to get your feet wet on the Galápagos.

Some of my group of fourteen were disappointed by the land excursions because so much what we saw was similar from island to island. We saw iguanas (red here, green there, black everywhere), boobies (blue-footed here, red-footed there), frigate birds (so fun to watch!), gulls, owls, and — of course — sea lions. The sea lions rule the Galápagos. There are colonies of them on every island.

Everywhere you go, there are sea lions.

I, however, enjoyed the animal life. The diversity isn’t great because the islands are isolated. That’s kind of the point. And it was interesting to see that natural selection favored blue-footed boobies and red-skinned iguanas on one island while preferring red-footed boobies and green-skinned islands on others.

Guarding a nestling…

We spotted an owl on one island, which is rumored to be rare…

Plus, the Galápagos wildlife offers one huge advantage over any other animals I’ve ever seen: The creatures don’t care about humans. As in, they completely ignore us. Except for the bull sea lions, who will charge anything that enters their territory, the birds and the reptiles and the sea lions are perfectly content to come right up to visitors. If you’re not careful, there’s a real risk of trampling something. We were constantly dodging lizards. And once, while fiddling with my camera, I nearly stumbled onto a pair of sea lions napping in the carpetweed!

I almost tripped over this duo of snoring sea lions.

Brian bonds with an iguana…

Even the fish in the tidepools would come say howdy…

The highlight of the trip for me, however, was the snorkeling. I’d never snorkeled before, and I’ll confess it scared me a little. But since I’m saying “yes” to life, I said yes to this. It was like drawing a winning lottery ticket.

Preparing for my first dive…

I splurged for an underwater camera. I’m glad I did.

Turns out I love to snorkel. It’s one of the best things I’ve ever experienced. When I put on the mask and look beneath the waves, I enter another world. An hour passes, and it seems like mere minutes. We snorkeled five times in my 72 hours on the boat. I could have done twice as much.

This friendly fellow came to say “hello”.

I was sad, however, to have missed the giant tortoises. They’re one of the main reasons I made this trip, and I was looking forward to getting up close and personal with them. It was not to be. On the morning I left the group, they continued on for tortoise-viewing. Before I left, though, they had a little fun with me; they found some tortoise footage on DVD and played it for me on the TV in the boat’s main cabin.

This is as close I got to the giant tortoises

Kicker Island, where we did a final round of snorkeling…

Alas, my time in the Galápagos was all to brief. Before I knew it, I was back in Quito. And once there, I was pining for home.

Quito is not without its charms, but the Galápagos are better…

Ecuador was marvelous, and I’m certain to return. Now, however, it’s back to Real Life. For the past week, I’ve been working hard on three different projects: my role at Fincon in three weeks, starting an online magazine, and (most importantly) writing an ebook about how to achieve financial independence.

Graffiti in Quito: “Smile…in spite of everything, life is beautiful!”

Now I need to decide where to go next. The 2014 travel catalogs have begun to arrive, and they’re filling my head with visions of far-away places. Should I go to Australia and New Zealand? Kenya and Tanzania? Madagascar? Thailand and Vietnam? Wherever I go, I want to take Kim with me. This is the second September in a row that I’ve gone on an adventure without her. I don’t like it. I want us to travel the world together!

How to Win the Lottery Called Life

Today, I want to share how you can win this lottery called life.

I’ve been reading and writing about the notion that you can make your own luck for over five years now. And for the past year or so, I’ve been praising the power of collaboration.

I say, for instance, that my work nowadays (such as it is) seems to be meeting and chatting with like-minded folks from all walks of life. They email me to say, “Want to have lunch?” and I say, “Of course!” We talk about podcasts or libraries or bicycling or comic books. Whatever strikes our fancy. And when we’ve finished our tea or our Thai noodles, nothing major seems to have happened.

What’s happened, however, is that we’ve both just received lottery tickets. By meeting and chatting and sharing ideas, we’ve been granted a ticket in the lottery of life.

And there are other ways to get lottery tickets too. Any time I try something new, I get a lottery ticket. Since I make it a point to try new things all of the time, I get a lot of lottery tickets.

When I learn to drink coffee, I get a lottery ticket.
When I learn to drink beer, I get a lottery ticket.
When I learn to shoot a gun, I get a lottery ticket.
When I learn to ride a motorcycle, I get a lottery ticket.
When I learn to speak Spanish, I get a lottery ticket.

I’ve found another way to get these lottery tickets, too: I say “yes” things that seem scary or difficult. For instance, when I agree to speak on stage in front of one thousand people, I get a lottery ticket. When I fly to Ecuador to help people learn about financial and personal independence, I get a lottery ticket. When I spend six weeks locked in my office writing an e-book about money, I get a lottery ticket.

In short, any time I do something — especially something new — I get a lottery ticket.

But what do I win? Great question. Turns out, the prizes are pretty fucking awesome.

When I learned to speak Spanish, for example, I hit the jackpot. I made new friends (my tutor, my English student), traveled new places (Perú, Bolivia, Argentina, Chile, Ecuador), read new authors (Neruda, García Marquez), tried new food, watched new movies, and more.

Today in Quito, I walked about ten miles across the city — up and down, up and down, up and down since Quito is nowhere near flat — spending part of my time on the teleférico, which is the cable-car that transports visitors up the mountainside from 9000-foot elevation to 13000-foot elevation.

During the steep fifteen-minute ride to the top of Pichincha Vulcano, I sat with two couples. They spoke only Spanish. If I didn’t know Spanish, I couldn’t have understood them, much less conversed. (Hell, I wouldn’t even be here in Ecuador if I couldn’t speak Spanish.) But I do speak Spanish, so I enjoyed a pleasant chat about one couple’s life in Venezuela and the other couple’s life here in Quito. Yet another small prize to add to the mountain of booty that I’ve obtained just because I spent some time learning another language.

Kim is awesome at playing this lottery. That gal gets tickets all the time. Because she’s a friendly and fun dental hygienist, her patients are constantly giving her things. In the eighteen months I’ve known her, she’s been given eggs, tickets to the country fair, tickets to a historical museum, tips on travel, and much much more. Remember how I recently sold my comics for a ton of money? (Wait, you can’t remember that because that article won’t go up at Get Rich Slowly until this Thursday!) Well, several thousand dollars of that came because we used one of Kim’s lottery tickets; one of her patients introduced us to a couple of folks who were interested in buying them.

To me, the best part is that one good thing often leads to another. Luck begets luck. When I win once, I get another winning ticket. I’ve reached the point where my entire life seems to be a series of fortunate events.

Note: Often just doing the thing that earned me the ticket is a sort of prize. Meeting certain people can be so delightful that even if nothing else came of it, the meeting itself was a tiny jackpot. Learning to drink coffee provided a small reward, not to mention the ongoing payouts involved in the fun morning ritual I get to share with Kim.

You know what doesn’t give you lottery tickets? Watching TV, for one. Also, playing videogames. Sorry, but there’s no payout for playing another round of Angry Birds. You don’t get lottery tickets for being a picky eater, being afraid to take calculated risks, and refusing to do the things that scare you.

Not every meeting and not every experience pays off. But many do provide a reward, and some of those rewards are enormous. Winning lottery tickets are so common and so fruitful, in fact, that I’ve almost become addicted to playing this lottery called life. I relish making new acquaintances, going new places, and trying new things.

So, get off your butt and go do something new today. Talk to a stranger. Try a new cuisine. There are still lots of prizes left in this lottery, but you have to be in it to win it.

Ecuador 2013: A Chautauqua on Wealth and Happiness

You know how sometimes peak life experiences kind of creep on you when you’re least expecting them? Well, that just happened to me.

For the past week, I’ve been part of the first chautauqua produced by Cheryl Reed of Above the Clouds Retreats. I joined fellow financial bloggers Mr. Money Mustache (a.k.a. Pete) and jlcollinsnh (a.k.a. Jim) to present our philosophies to an enthusiastic group of 22 participants, most of whom were women and most of whom had reached (or were well on their way to) Financial Independence.

Including Cheryl’s husband, Rich, we had 27 in our group. You know how there’s usually one or two bad eggs in any group that size? Well, that didn’t happen to us. In fact, this is probably the best small group I’ve ever had the privilege to be a part of. The participants were universally intelligent and friendly and supportive and fun. “I haven’t laughed so much in years,” one woman said at the end of the week. I haven’t either.

Note: I’ve uploaded the PowerPoint slides for my presentation. I’ll post a written version soon (maybe on Pete’s blog, if he’ll take it). Plus, I plan to share a summary of the various financial advice from the chautauqua at Get Rich Slowly within the next couple of weeks. If you want more info right now, check out Mr. Money Mustache’s summary of the week.

Between me, Rich, and Mr. Money Mustache, we took thousands of photos during the ten days it took to produce and stage this retreat. I’ve culled these to 165 favorites. But since that’s far too many to ask you to view, I’m going to thin that even further. Here are 20 of the photos that I feel best capture our shared experience. (Click a photo to view a larger version.)

Morning at Cheryl’s farm: Cheryl, Pete, J.D., and Jim plan for the week [photo by Rich]

The “profits” from the week will help families like this in Santa Elena [photo by Rich]

Sunset in Santa Elena — Cheryl takes the dogs for a walk [photo by J.D.]

Pete and Amy O. look on raptly as J.D. shares some brilliant insight [photo by Rich]

Pete shares his Mustachian vision for happiness and lifestyle design [photo by J.D.]

Jim and Val prioritize their passions during Cheryl’s presentation [photo by Rich]

Colleen endures smoke and fire (and plenty of spit) during a shamanic cleansing [photo by J.D.]

During a day trip to Otavalo, street performers serenade the group [photo by Rich]

At a local orphanage, kids scramble for candy from a piñata [photo by Pete]

The group watches a folkloric dance group at Hacienda Cusin [photo by J.D.]

Another night of Story Time with Uncle Jesse — “That reminds me of the time…” [photo by J.D.]

Anita and Caitlin enjoy the company of the adorable (and annoying) cat [photo by J.D.]

Pete hosts the first of many enjoyable evenings at the hacienda [photo by ??]

Amy O. and J.D. bust a gut as Colleen slams a Mustachian Rosé [photo by Pete]

The entire group flashes the Mustachian Salute [photo by J.D.]

“La mitad del mundo!” — J.D. at the equator [photo by Amy F.]

Marla, Colleen, and Jason in Quito’s Plaza San Francisco at dusk [photo by J.D.]

J.D., Colleen, Amy O., Marla, and Val toast the end of a wonderful week [photo by Pete]

Shyam and Jesse watch as Carol is serenaded for her birthday [photo by J.D.]

Marla and Val posing with the handsome and dapper doorman [photo by J.D.]

One thousand thanks to Amy, Amy, Amy, and Tom; Menon and Shyam; Nathan and Caitlin; Cathy and John; Jason, Jesse, and Jen; Carol, Karl, and Colleen; Dave and Ann; Lise, Val, Anita, and the every-charming Marla. All y’all made this week amazing. I spent more time with some folks than others — Colleen and Amy O., for instance — but I enjoyed the conversations I had with everyone.

And, of course, thanks to my colleagues. Jim, Rich, Cheryl, and Pete — it was an honor to have been a part of this. Thank you for asking me to share the experience. Let’s do it again next year!

Now, however, I have a brief lull before starting the next leg of my expedition to Ecuador. I’ll spend two more nights at Hotel Ambassador in Quito’s “gringo-landia” — I’m listening to sappy Spanish love songs in the lobby right now — but on Monday, I’ll join a small group headed to the Galapagos Islands. It’s going to be great!

Then, exactly a week from right now, I’ll hop a shuttle the airport to head home. That too will be great. As much as I loved this chautauqua, I love Kim more. I’m eager to return to our home so that we can resume a routine together, and so that we can grow and learn together…

Photos of giant tortoises coming soon! (Plus, underwater snorkeling photos taken with my new waterproof camera.) Stay tuned, my friends.

Ursaphobia

While in Alaska last month, I confided in Kim that I’m terrified of bears. It’s true. All my life, I’ve been ursaphobic.

My fear of bears is a real problem when I go camping. Unless I’m in a large group, I’m always nervous — especially if the camping trip involves a long hike into remote territory. It’s also a problem any time I go to Alaska.

When I visited Alaska in 2010, I had a couple of close encounters with bears. The first time, we saw a group of bald eagles feeding on some grizzly corpses near the shoreline. (Yes, the bears were dead — killed by hunters on another boat — but I knew there were probably more around. And I had no doubt they wanted vengeance!)

Later in the trip, Mac and I took an uphill hike at a bay north of Sitka. The well-worn trail was covered with bear scat and clawed tree trunks. I was terrified the whole time, and very relieved to make it back to the boat in one piece.

Kim finds my fear of bears amusing. On the first day of our trip, she sent me the following, which she found on Facebook:

So true. So true.

In Juneau, I paused for a photo op:

I don’t want to live anywhere signs like this are needed.

I had a close call in Skagway. Fortunately, the bear was more interested in getting me to buy jewelry than eating me (or the tasty salmon in my backpack):

That’s enough bear action for me to last several years. Now, of course, I’m in Ecuador, where there are no bears. There are only jaguars. I’m fine with jaguars. I like cats…

My First Motorcycle

When I was a boy, I loved motorcycles. I was fascinated by the exploits of Evil Knievel, and liked watching motorcycle riders on the highway.

I never got a chance to ride when I was young, though. My friend Torey had a dirt bike, and he’d let me ride behind him from time to time, but I never got a chance to ride myself.

In college, Kris had a Honda Spree scooter. That was fun. When we moved to Canby, though, she sold the scooter, and for twenty years, I didn’t ride again. Then, last year in Turkey, I spent an amazing day riding a scooter through Cappadocia. Combine that experience with a girlfriend who loves motorcycles (Kim has ridden them since she was twelve), and suddenly I had a goal. I wanted to get my motorcycle endorsement.

That’s not just a formality here in Oregon. To get your motorcycle permit, you need to pass a written test. (Which I did on a whim last October.) To get the motorcycle endorsement on your license, you need to take an officially-sanctioned three-day motorcycle training program. Kim and I have been talking about doing this together for over a year. In August, we finally made it happen.

I learned to ride on this Yamaha dual-sport bike.

The motorcycle safety course includes eight hours of on-bike training.

It’s official: I passed!

At the end of July, Kim bought her father’s Harley Sportster 883. He rode it from Boise to Portland; we drove him home. While in Boise, we all went shopping at the Harley store. Kim came home with these kick-ass riding boots.

Hot hot hot!

After I finished the motorcycle training program, I looked around for a “starter bike”. It didn’t take long to find a white 2006 Honda Rebel with only 3400 miles on it.

Guess who just rode home on his NEW MOTORCYCLE?!?

Looking very serious with my new bike.

Our friend Cody also wants to learn to ride. The first free Sunday, we took him to an empty parking lot and taught him the basics. The three of us spent a couple of hours going around in circles, weaving between water-bottle cones, and practicing quick stops.

Cody on my Rebel, getting the hang of gentle turns.

Feeling confident, I started riding my bike for errands. Very fun. And so much better to make dumb mistakes (I keep stalling in first gear!) at low speeds and in light traffic.

I was twenty minutes early for an appointment recently, so I decided to ride my motorcycle around the neighborhood. Up hills. Down hills. Around gentle corners. And so on.

I had slowed to take a sharp corner when I laid my bike down for the very first time. I’d turned my head to look into the turn, as I’d been trained to do, but had failed to account for the thing layer of loose gravel on top of the road. At about 12mph, I leaned into the turn — and the bike slid out from under me. It stopped almost immediately, coming to rest on my right leg. Ouch!

Fortunately, all I suffered were skinned knees and elbows and a bruised ego. And I learned a valuable lesson. Even a little gravel is hazardous to a motorcycle in a turn.

I’m actually a very cautious rider. I’ve been an avid bicyclist for over a decade, and I’ve been in one bad car crash. I know the biggest danger on the road is other drivers, so I’m very wary. And having crashed my bicycle several times, I know how important it is to get back out there and ride. If you take time off after a crash, you psych yourself out. You become afraid to ride.

So, naturally, I haven’t let me little motorcycle accident dampen my enthusiasm. As I prepped to leave for Ecuador, I completed all my errands by motorcycle. And I can’t wait to get home. There should be a couple of nice weekends left for me and Kim to take some joyrides through the Willamette Valley. And just wait until next summer! By then, I hope to graduate from my “starter bike” to something with a little more power…