Reader,

When you tell someone that you're writing a book, they almost always respond with a question: "What are you writing about?"

It's a natural question to ask. Probably the most natural question. Yet whenever I come face to face with it, my stomach lurches a little. Oh no, whispers a voice in the back of my head. What will they think if I tell them the truth?

In my case the truth is neither shocking nor scandalous. I'm writing about hockey.

What I'm actually worried about is judgment. They'll probably think I'm wasting my time. And when I say "they," I'm really talking about myself. Of all the things I could write about, why am I choosing such a frivolous topic?

I know I'm not the only person who wrestles with such thought and feelings. There are, I imagine, people who always know what to write about and who are always confident that they're writing is worth everyone else's while. Yet, in my experience, such folks are in the minority. (Also: many who pretend to own such confidence are even more worried than I am.)

That's why I always ask my clients to answer a nuanced version of the "what" question:

What is the one question you're exploring in this book?

This question is effective for a few reasons:

1. It invites a pause. Most people haven't encountered this question before, so they can't blurt out a prepared "safe" answer. Instead, they look to the side and say something like, "Huh, that's a good question." The ensuing pause provides space for some honest self-reflection. That often leads to a more compelling answer than the one they came prepared to give.
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2. It draws a limit. A lot of books suffer from "fire hydrant disease": they've got too many big ideas and good questions. Readers rarely (if ever) finish them because they can't find a clear throughline to follow. This question pushes the author to helpfully narrow their focus. (Because authors can also lose themselves this way, which is why many books never get written.)
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3. It peeks beneath the surface. What an author actually has to say is rarely obvious. And for good reason: if you could understand my book without reading it, why bother? A book worth reading is an invitation to see some things you haven't encountered before. Thus, this question starts a conversation where we can dig deeper and feed our curiosity.

I'm not suggesting that this question is easy to answer. It's not. However, the time you'll spend sitting with it is invaluable. It'll help you get clearer about what (and why) you're writing, and that will boost your confidence that the time you're about to spend clickety-clacking on your keyboard will be time well spent.

So: what's the one question you're exploring in your book? (or current writing project)

Keep your stick on the ice.

Frank.