CAN YOU DO IT IF DISCIPLINE IS THE ONLY THING LEFT?
HOW TO PREPARE TO WRITE LIKE A KILLER
THE COST OF SURVIVAL
We rise broken more times than we count—drained, crushed under the weight of yesterday’s failures. Some days, victory is forcing your body from bed, scraping teeth clean, swallowing cold breakfast, dragging yourself under a stinging shower. You won by refusing the lie that laziness is an option.
You survived the fight most quit before it began—and that pain is proof you are still in the war.
THE DOCTRINE
Doubt is not a visitor. It is permanent. Blank pages breed contempt. The question never changes: What is the point?
Churchill’s childhood was silence and neglect—ghost parents, empty halls, no warmth. He lived on discipline. Regret is rot; discipline is the blade that frees.
No one bargains with weakness and builds anything worth remembering. Excuses are currency for the forgotten.
Grind. Cut. Repeat. Every hour.
THE WAR WITHIN
You are trapped—mind frozen, soul drained, utterly alone in this war because no one can wield your pen or fight your battles for you. The voice sneers, “You are no writer. Why bleed time on this lost cause?”
I know the sting well. The next sentence is your lifeline—broken, raw, ugly or not. Keep striking.
Keep chiseling. Quitters drown in silence; killers carve legacy from pain.
Weakness is constant. Negotiating with it is surrender. The rules are absolute:
One thousand words. Every day. Quality irrelevant. Output is law.
Write at the same hour, no exceptions. Law, not suggestion.
Time your labor. Twenty-five minutes on, five off. Obey or accept defeat. Momentum strikes? Double the session.
Routine is shield; repetition the club. The process rewards only those who endure.
THE IRON EXAMPLE
Churchill was dismissed by nearly all—mocked for his lisp, scorned for failure, abandoned by blood. Haunted by darkness, he moved relentlessly forward. Britain’s greatest Prime Minister was forged not by flashes of genius, but by grinding thousands of words through war’s fire.
THE ONLY CROWN
This is the iron law for anyone building, leading, or creating in Tech, AI, or any battlefield of ambition. Genius does not write code, build products, or forge legacies—it is daily discipline laying brick after brick in darkness. Every day is another strike chipping the wall between you and immortality.
Only those ruthless enough to chisel daily deserve the crown. The rest vanish.
FINAL LAW
Stop whining. Write. The daydreamer dies nameless.
PROVE IT
Admit the last day you almost quit. If you never have, you are not in this war. Leave your excuse below.
I reply only to survivors.
Powerful words, never knew Churchill was mocked. They got that wrong!
Read the Last Lion series by William Manchester. It will enlighten you.