Earn better.

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This is for anyone who wants something desperately but can't seem to follow through.

It's 2am and I'm staring at the ceiling, running through the list in my head.

Five projects. Five unfinished screenplays and book manuscripts sitting in Google Drive in various stages of almost-done. Every single one matters to me. Every single one feels urgent and important and mine.

And yet.

When I have time to work on them — those precious hours when the kids are occupied and my inbox is quiet — I find myself doing literally anything else. Organizing my desk. Scrolling LinkedIn. Researching things I don't need to research.

And then comes the question that sits on my chest like a weight:

Do I just not want them badly enough?

Because isn't that what we've been told? If you want something enough, you'll find a way. If you're not doing it, you must not want it that much. Desire creates discipline. The rest is just excuses.

For years, I believed this. And for years, I've tortured myself with it.

But here's what I'm finally starting to understand: I was asking myself the wrong question.

The Lie We Tell Ourselves About Wanting Things

We've been sold a myth: that desire and discipline are the same thing.

That if you want something desperately enough — if you dream about it, obsess over it, feel it in your bones — the follow-through will just... materialize. The discipline will arrive like magic, summoned by the strength of your longing.

And when it doesn't? When you still can't seem to sit down and do the thing? Well, clearly you didn't want it enough.

This is BS.

Here's what I've learned from my own sleepless nights and from working with dozens of ambitious women over the years:

Desire and discipline are completely separate things.

You can desperately, achingly want something AND struggle to execute on it. Both can be true at the same time. And it doesn't mean you're lazy, or uncommitted, or secretly self-sabotaging.

It means you're human. And you're probably dealing with at least one of these three things:

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Your Discipline Muscle Is Untrained

Think about it this way: Maybe you deeply want to run a marathon. You can visualize crossing that finish line. You can feel how proud you'd be. But you I haven't been running regularly, if that muscle is weak and untrained, your desire doesn't magically make your capable of running 26.2 miles tomorrow.
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Writing is the same. Creating is the same. Whatever your "thing" is — it's the same.
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The discipline to show up consistently is a muscle. And like any muscle, it needs to be trained. You can't willpower your way into a strong muscle. You have to build it, slowly, with practice.
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The desire doesn't create the muscle. The practice does.
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Fear Is Wearing a Procrastination Costume

Here's the part that took me years to admit: I'm not avoiding my screenplays because I don't want them. I'm avoiding them because I'm terrified of them.
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Terrified of what happens when I actually finish one and send it out into the world. Terrified of rejection. Terrified of pouring my heart into something and discovering it's not as good as I hoped. Terrified of confronting my deepest desire head-on and finding out what happens — or doesn't happen — when I actually try.
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It's safer to stay in the wanting than to risk the doing.​
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​Because as long as it's unfinished, it's still full of potential. As long as I haven't tried, I haven't failed. As long as I keep it close and private, no one can tell me it's not good enough.

Sound familiar?

That's not a lack of desire. That's fear. And fear is really, really good at disguising itself as procrastination, as distraction, as "I'm just too busy right now."

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The Chicken-and-Egg Trap

Here's the cruel paradox:

You can't build discipline without practice. You can't practice without discipline.

So you stay stuck. Spinning. Wondering why you can't just do the thing. Calling yourself lazy when you're actually just trapped in a loop you don't know how to break.

I've been in this loop for years with my writing projects. Round and round. Wanting, not doing, feeling ashamed, wanting more, still not doing.

Until just a week ago, when I tried something different.

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What I'm Trying (And Why It's Already Working)

​I posted on LinkedIn: "I need daily accountability partners for my writing projects through December 31st. Who's in?"

Within 24 hours, I had a rotation of people — writers, entrepreneurs, other creatives — who picked one day a week to meet me in the morning. We state our goals and then work in 45 minute sprints with brief check-ins along the way. It flies by.

That's it. No elaborate tracking systems. No productivity apps. No complicated frameworks.

Just: I'm showing up, are you?

And something shifted.

I'm writing. Not perfectly. Not for hours at a time. But I'm showing up. Almost every day. For the first time in months — maybe years — I'm actually making progress on these projects that have haunted me.

Here's why I think it's working:

✅ It removes the isolation. Creating doesn't have to be this lonely, tortured artist thing. There are people in it with me now.

✅ It provides external structure. My untrained discipline muscle has something to hold onto. Someone is waiting to hear from me. I don't want to let them down.

✅ It's community, not judgment. These people aren't policing me or grading my work. They're just cheering me on. And I'm cheering them on. We're all figuring it out together.

✅ It's daily, which makes it easier than weekly. This surprised me. I thought daily would feel overwhelming. But it's actually building the muscle faster. Each small win compounds. Each day I show up makes the next day easier.

And maybe most importantly: that brutal 2am question has finally quieted down.

Because now I know: desire was never my problem. I wanted it all along. I want these screenplays and books to exist in the world. I always have.

I just needed help building the bridge between wanting and doing.

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If You Want to Try This

I'm only a week into this experiment, so I can't promise you it's the solution. But if you're lying awake asking yourself that same question — "Do I just not want it badly enough?" — here's what I'd suggest:
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1. Identify your "want but don't do" thing. What project haunts you? What have you been promising yourself you'll start? What makes you feel that specific mix of longing and shame?
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2. Find your people. Post on LinkedIn or Instagram or wherever your people are: "Looking for daily accountability partners for [YOUR GOAL] through [END DATE]. Who's in?" Or DM 3-5 people directly. People you admire who are working on similar things. You'd be surprised how many people are waiting for someone to invite them.
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3. Start with simple. 10-15 minute check-ins. Share what you did yesterday, what you'll do today. That's it. No fancy systems. No guilt if you miss a day. No pressure to be profound. Just show up. Help each other show up.
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4. Give it an end date. Mine is December 31st. Finite timelines make scary things feel more doable. You can always extend it if it's working. But knowing there's an end makes it easier to commit.

I'll report back in a few weeks with more data on how this is going. Maybe it'll fizzle out. Maybe I'll discover something even better. Maybe by January I'll have finished one of these damn screenplays.

But for now, for the first time in a long time, I'm not lying awake wondering if I want it badly enough.

I'm just writing.

And that feels like everything.

Hit reply and tell me. I read every single one.

And if you need accountability too — if this resonated — post asking for partners. I promise you're not the only one who needs this.

Now go get paid.

x Claire

PS Loved this email? Share it with anyone you think could benefit!

PPS Stuck in a rut? Book me for a 30 minute coaching session 🤗

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​Listen instead​

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A few weeks ago, I had a coaching session that reminded me why I offer free coaching sessions. Angela, 52, wrote to me from a women's shelter where she's preparing for job interviews while convinced she's hiding something shameful. Four years ago, she finally got answers—autism, ADHD, dyscalculia—that explained why she'd been fired before, why everything felt like swimming upstream. Now she's terrified that employers will somehow see through her to all the struggles with anxiety, depression, and PTSD that led her here.

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By the end of our session, we weren’t talking about hiding anything. We were talking about secret weapons. Here's what hit me as Angela described her fear:
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Angela had spent her entire life masking. She’d developed incredible systems to manage her neurodivergence—color-coding emails, multiple calendars, strategic post-it notes, visual cues. She could read a room better than anyone. She knew how to manage up (because she had to manage herself). She had pattern recognition skills that were off the charts.

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But when she walked into an interview, all she could think about was: What if they find out? What if I can’t do the job? What if my disabilities are too much of a problem?

She was carrying a rock. And it was blocking her path forward.

I asked Angela something that changed the direction of our conversation:

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Because here’s the thing about hardship, about disabilities, about any challenge that has shaped us: it teaches us things. It gives us skills. It creates perspective that people who haven’t walked that path simply don’t have.

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Angela’s neurodivergence wasn’t a liability. It was a competitive advantage—if she could see it that way, and communicate it that way.

I'm looking for brave women who...

👉 Want a free 45 minute coaching session with me in exchange for allowing me to post on the Ladies Get Paid podcast and Substack. You're off camera and can change your name. It's a beautiful way to get support while supporting others.

I specialize in helping women who want to build a better work-life, activate their potential, and achieve success without self-sacrifice.

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👉 Learned to embrace their worth the hard way—through underpaid years, toxic situations, or moments of accepting far less than they deserved. If you've transformed from questioning your value to claiming it (and you're willing to share the messy middle of that journey), I'd love to feature your story in my upcoming series in this newsletter and on the Ladies Get Paid Instagram.​