The Unwritten Rules: Why I’m Done Writing Encyclopedias (And You Should Be Too)

Right now, there’s a lie being sold to every expert who dreams of writing a book.

The lie goes like this: Your book is your credential. It’s a 300-page argument proving that you deserve to be taken seriously. And the only “right” way to write it is to include everything you know, answer every question, address every edge case—creating an exhaustive encyclopedia of your expertise.

This lie is keeping your book unwritten. And it’s keeping your expertise invisible.

I know because I believed it too.

Back when I was writing my dissertation, I thought expertise meant three things: proving a comprehensive understanding of the topic, coming up with a new theory every other genius had somehow missed, and never being caught not knowing something. I’d write and rewrite the same paragraph dozens of times with this vision in mind, convinced that if I could just be thorough enough, perfect enough, I’d finally prove I belonged.

That belief took all the joy out of writing for me back then. And now I watch brilliant experts—people just like you—falling into this same trap, except with new twists: Should I use AI? Is that cheating? If I don’t cover everything, will people think I don’t know enough? If my book doesn’t answer every question, is it even worth writing?

Here’s what breaks my heart: While you’re trying to prove you’re an expert by being exhaustive, your actual expertise—the insights that could genuinely help people—remains trapped in your head.

The Truth That Changes Everything

You’re already an expert.

Your expertise lives in every client transformation, every pattern you’ve recognized that others miss, every time you’ve looked at someone’s specific mess and immediately known what matters and what doesn’t.

Your book doesn’t make you an expert. But it does make your expertise findable.

And once you accept that you have nothing to prove to anyone, everything changes. You stop trying to write a boring encyclopedia. You stop trying to answer every question. You stop trying to create a closed system where you’ve thought of everything.

Instead, you start doing what actual experts do: You share how you think.

Because here’s what the “prove everything” authors miss: Your readers can Google facts and find comprehensive lists on their own. We all have access to all the information we could possibly want.

What they don’t have access to is your specific lens for viewing their problem. They need your way of connecting dots. It’s your point of view that really matters. Your perspective makes them say, “I never thought of it that way,” and that changes everything.

This revelation—that expertise is about perspective, not comprehensiveness—changed everything for me. But knowing it intellectually and living it are two different things.

What finally freed me was developing practices that helped me trust what I already knew. Rituals that connected me to my embodied wisdom, not just my intellectual understanding. Ways of working that honored the messy, intuitive, non-linear nature of real expertise.

Today, this has evolved into a new manifesto, which I wish to present to you:

The Manifesto: Seven Sacred Principles

In case you’re wondering, I didn’t invent these principles. I discovered them through my own messy evolution from perfectionist academic to creative authorpreneur. And in working with my ghostwriting clients, I believe they’re what separates authors who stay stuck from those who create books that matter.

Consider this your invitation to join us—the authorpreneurs who are writing a different kind of business book. Books that trust the reader. Books that trust the process. Books that trust that expertise isn’t about knowing everything.

Principle 1: We believe our bodies have as much to tell us as our minds

Your expertise isn’t just intellectual—it’s embodied. That gut feeling when a client says something that doesn’t quite add up? That physical sensation when you know you’ve hit on the right solution? That’s expertise too. I’m developing rituals for listening to my intuition more (and figuring out how to bring these into my client work), for trusting what my body knows before my mind can articulate it. Your book should capture not just what you think, but how you sense.

Principle 2: We believe in revisiting and deepening rather than constantly consuming the new

While everyone else is chasing the latest trend, we return to foundational texts with new questions. I’m re-reading the Bhagavad Gita because I’m asking different questions about dharma and purpose now than I was five years ago. Your book doesn’t need to include every new development in your field. It needs to offer a perspective worth returning to.

Principle 3: We believe our books are not credentials—they’re maps

You’re not writing to prove you’re an expert. You’re writing because your expertise is currently invisible, scattered across client conversations and solved problems. Your book is the map that makes your thinking findable, not a certificate that makes you legitimate.

Principle 4: We believe we are co-creators with ideas that choose us

I have a symbiotic relationship with my ideas. They choose me as much as I choose them. Sometimes the book you need to write isn’t the book you planned to write. Sometimes your expertise speaks through you in ways you didn’t expect. The authorpreneurs who thrive are the ones who learn to dance with their ideas instead of trying to control them.

Principle 5: We believe demonstrating thinking beats demonstrating knowing

Wikipedia can show what’s known. Your book shows how to think. When you try to be comprehensive, you become forgettable. When you share a clear lens for viewing a problem, you become indispensable. Every chapter should teach a thinking pattern, not just transfer information.

Principle 6: We believe tools amplify creativity when used with intention

Yes, tools including AI. The question isn’t whether to use tools—it’s whether you’re using them to amplify your voice or replace it. I use AI like a sous chef: handling the prep work so I can focus on the creative decisions only I can make. My stories, my insights, my weird metaphors—those come from me. The tools just help me shape them better, faster, clearer.

Principle 7: We believe business books should start conversations, not end them

Your book’s job isn’t to answer every question. It’s to help readers realize which questions they should be asking. Your ideal client should finish your book thinking: “I get the framework, but I need help applying this to my specific situation.” That’s not a failure—that’s the entire point.

The Choice Before You

Right now, you’re standing at a crossroads.

Path one: Keep believing you need to prove your expertise through exhaustiveness. Keep trying to include everything. Keep waiting until you know enough, have enough, are enough to write your book.

Path two: Join us in accepting what you already know—that your expertise is real, it’s earned, and it doesn’t need to be proven through comprehensiveness. Write the book that demonstrates how you think, not everything you know.

I chose path two. It changed everything.

Not just my writing. My relationship with my expertise. My understanding of what readers actually need. My ability to help others get their wisdom into the world without burning out trying to be Wikipedia.

Your expertise isn’t unwritten because you lack knowledge.

It’s unwritten because you’ve been trying to prove what you know instead of sharing how you think.

Welcome to the authorpreneur revolution—where we trust our bodies as much as our minds, where we go deep instead of wide, where we see our books as conversation starters instead of encyclopedias.

Your ideal clients don’t need another comprehensive guide.

They need your perspective. Your thinking. Your specific way of seeing their world.

And that’s something no amount of exhaustiveness can replace.

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