I Deleted 35,000 Words From My Manuscript!

It was a cold morning in Federal, nestled in the Northern Rivers hinterland, where I had retreated to finish my book. I had called my good friend Tim Ross to rent his quaint little studio, aptly named "The Writers Room ", to finish my book surrounded by trees and nature. My daughter Miffy accompanied me, ready for a week of writing, surfing, and enjoying Byron Bay's epic food.

I set up in the writing studio, where the perfect lighting spilled across my workspace. At 58,000 words, I aimed to reach 70,000 by the end of the week and give my manuscript a thorough read over the last few days.

I woke up early the next morning to get started. After a strong coffee, half the morning slipped away with not a single word added. Frustrated, I sought solace in the ocean, hoping a surf session with Miff and our friend Simon Williams would break the monotony.

When I returned to my computer to write, the words still eluded me. So, I decided to read what I had written so far. As the day turned to night, unease settled in my gut. It was clear—I had been writing the wrong book.

With a heavy heart, I calmly deleted 35,000 words from my manuscript. That night, I was a mess, questioning if I had done the right thing. I called Rosso, who was in Spain. His voice, as always, was calming and steadfast. "Just keep writing, Ben," he said.

The next day, something shifted. I woke with picture clarity and wrote like never before. The words flowed effortlessly; I couldn't stop writing. The big reset the night before became the catalyst for writing the book I always wanted to write.

Writing a book is more than putting words on a page; it's a transformative journey. It forced me to dive deep into my past, revisiting memories and old stories and confronting things I had long forgotten. Patterns and behaviours I had overlooked started to emerge. I rediscovered a resistance and bravery within myself that I often only see in others.

Stories have a unique power. They are vessels for ideas, spreading far beyond the pages of a book. A book is a souvenir, a tangible piece of someone's thoughts and experiences, a transportation into their imagination. The actual value of a book lies not in the ideas it carries but in the author's bravery to share those ideas and tell their stories. I often say to my clients that the answers are out there, not in here.

That morning in Federal, I poured my stories into the book: tales from boardrooms of some of the world's biggest brands, nights out with Domenico Dolce & Stefano Gabbana, a dinner party with Hugh Jackman, and a chance encounter with Snoop Dogg. I shared insights from working with Westpac, Gulf, Elgas, Australia Post, Nike, and BHP. These stories aren't just anecdotes but lessons, reflections of my journey, and shared wisdom that shape business, people, culture, and the brands we interact with daily.

One story hit harder than the others, a story I rarely share. In 2016, after five years of building a business, one November morning in McLaren Vale, I stood up and walked out of a strategy meeting with one of Australia's largest banks. I didn't just leave the meeting; I walked out of the life I had created, the business I had designed.

You'll need to read the book to understand why. But looking back, patterns emerged, revealing the evolution of who I was and who I am now. Writing a book about creativity and the question, "What can design do?" was really about understanding the bravery within all of us. Writing forced me to see qualities that I am quick to see in others but rarely attribute to myself. It made me confront aspects of my character to understand my journey.

Writing a book has an intellectual payoff. Four years of researching creativity are grounding. This book became a vault of my war stories, and the more I wrote, the more comfortable I became writing about my failures and successes. This has been a cornerstone of my approach—sharing freely and trusting that the value will return emotionally.

Writing a book clarifies your thinking. It's an opportunity to rediscover your past, understand your present, and shape your future. It has been a journey of creativity, resistance, and bravery. The more you give, the more you receive.

Spending four years researching and writing about creativity offers some amazing insights into humanity and the transition from the 96% of kids who believe they are creative to the 26% of adults who believe they are creative. Somewhere, someone stole yours, and my book is about helping you find it.

Why? Because creativity is more crucial than ever, the simple ability to summon original ideas on demand and, more importantly, do something with them.

LinkedIn is full of thousands of posts daily about how to change your business, the climate, or the planet. We're in a race to find our voice and make an impact we can be proud of.

Somewhere, at some point in our decline from the 96%, we were fooled into believing that creativity is a gift only available to artists, designers, or people who make things.

Well, someone stole what was always within us: the inherent ability to be creative, which, in all fairness, is just a choice.

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