The moment I realised I wasn't writing for anyone
Entry #4 — Writing is a marathon, and in my case an emotional one.
Apologies for the silence on this section. There have been a lot of ups and downs.
Early this year I thought all was well. Almost 400 pages, some old essays, some new material. I thought it was ready to show. But then I realised the point of this section was never just to only show finished chapters. It was to show the wins and the cries along the way.
Writing is a marathon, and in my case an emotional one. There were times I felt alone, complaining to myself about why I was doing this, what the point of the suffering was. But it was my decision.
And under the agony there’s a real bliss too, finishing a chapter, the brain suddenly flooding with new ideas. Some of them vanish instantly. They resurface later, at odd moments. In the shower. Cooking a meal.
The worst moment comes when you sit down with chapters already written and read them again.
I liked parts of it. But something felt off. I spent more time criticising the writing, the ideas, the flow, than actually reading it. That’s not a bad instinct to have. But the nervousness underneath it was different. A thought kept surfacing: I will need to rewrite everything. That scared me.
I felt like I was failing myself. Like I should stop and chase another dream instead. This dream was toast, I thought.
All those pages felt like wasted time. A year earlier I had the same experience with a different book, A Stateless Journey. Still sitting on my hard drive. 200 pages. Gathering dust. I wondered if I was just scared, and whether this one would end up the same way.
So I stopped. I walked away. Went for a walk in the park. A few weeks later I came back to it.
But this time I went to the essays I’d already written, straight to the one closest to me, “Who Are You Without the Title?”
I reread it, and the rest of the series with it.
I asked myself why I was writing this, and who it was for. Two words came back. For professionals.
That took me back to my own beginnings in tech, and the jobs I had before I chose tech as my domain.
And then it kept repeating in my mind. Who Are You Without the Title? That’s the book. I already had maybe 60 pages from the essays, and especially now, with AI, automation, replacement, the fear of missing out, most of us are carrying some version of this question.
So I read the essays again. Drafted an outline. Wrote three words on a piece of paper.
For professionals.
And from that came a different idea. Instead of one heavy book, maybe it could be a series. Who Are You Without the Title?, part of the Leadership as a Verb series. I could still write something simply called Leadership as a Verb later.
It felt right. Lighter. Workable.
I built a small Python script to pull down all my Substack Notes, wanting to know if what I was writing was consistent.
It wasn’t. I was everywhere. That’s probably been the actual problem all along, not talent, not discipline, focus. The series gives me that focus back.
So instead of writing Leadership as a Verb, I’m writing Who Are You Without the Title?, part of the Leadership as a Verb series.
My plan is to share a few pages free, full chapters for paid subscribers, and to keep posting the process here as I go. The ideas behind it, the writing itself, my thinking and writing processes.
Hopefully we both learn something along the way.
Can’t wait to show you what’s next.
Thank you for being here.
About the Author
Tino Almeida is a tech leader, coach, and writer reshaping how we think about leadership in a burnout-driven world. With over 20 years at the intersection of engineering, DevOps, and team culture, he helps humans lead consciously from the inside out. When he’s not challenging outdated norms, he’s plotting how to make work more human, one verb at a time.