Look around.
We are on the brink of catastrophe.
A dystopia of excessive pleasure, comfort, and a false sense of security as to how successful you will be is no longer just a relatable movie scene.
Since birth, you were spoon-fed ideas, beliefs, and routines that program you into the same default path as everyone else. This leads to the same quality of life as everyone else.
It’s no wonder why most people feel anxious, overwhelmed, and have a cloud of meaninglessness hovering over their heads at all times.
Focus is the cure.
But not the narrow focus we associate with deep work and study.
Focus is what separates action from distraction, meaning from meaningless, and success from failure.
Focus is how you conduct your own adventure to stop hurling toward the dead end that was assigned to you by society for their benefit.
This will be a painful journey to find meaning, reinvent yourself, and create your ideal future.
The only thing more painful than seeing what you are capable of is not seeing what you are capable of, and I can’t think of anything more worthwhile to dedicate your life to.

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • An essential volume for generations of writers young and old. The twenty-fifth anniversary edition of this modern classic will continue to spark creative minds for years to come. Anne Lamott is "a warm, generous, and hilarious guide through the writer’s world and its treacherous swamps" (Los Angeles Times).

“Superb writing advice…. Hilarious, helpful, and provocative.” —The New York Times Book Review

For a quarter century, more than a million readers—scribes and scribblers of all ages and abilities—have been inspired by Anne Lamott’s hilarious, big-hearted, homespun advice. Advice that begins with the simple words of wisdom passed down from Anne’s father—also a writer—in the iconic passage that gives the book its title:

“Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write. It was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother’s shoulder, and said, ‘Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.’”