Tim Grahl - Running Down a Dream: Your Road Map to Winning Creative Battles

PRAISE FOR RUNNING DOWN A DREAM

What I love about this book is that Tim tells the truth. He not only shares his wins as he pursued his dream, but also his devastating failures. Everybody faces challenges when starting something new and this book is the secret sauce in overcoming them.

Barbara Corcoran, founder of

The Corcoran Group, author, and Shark Tank investor

Running Down a Dream is a book about how to do the thing most people want to do but tell themselves is too scary, too hard, too unlikely. Tim Grahl is not some once-in-a-million-years genius. Hes an ordinary person who has managed to do what most ordinary people think is impossible. Thats why you should listen to him.

Ryan Holiday, bestselling author of

Ego Is the Enemy and The Obstacle Is the Way

Ive known Tim for a decade, but I had no idea what a skilled storyteller he was. In Running Down a Dream, he shatters the mold of a typical self-help book by offering a fresh perspectiveand an array of life-changing adviceon creativity, success, and happiness.

Daniel H. Pink, bestselling author of When and Drive

Full disclosure: Tim Grahl is my own secret guru for exactly the stuff that Running Down a Dream is about. My own book, The War of Art, was about the concept of self-sabotage as it afflicts us as writers and artists struggling to be our best professional selves. Tims book is the workingmans tool belt. His gift is to show us in nuts-and-bolts, no-nonsense terms exactly how to navigate this crazy life and how to actually Get Our Stuff Done. Indispensable!

Steven Pressfield, bestselling author of

The War of Art and The Artist's Journey

What does it really look like to succeed? Slow, painful, terrified, stumbling, humble, and persistent. Tims amazingly vulnerable story convinces you youre not alone in your struggle and shows a path through it.

Derek Sivers, founder of CD Baby, frequent TED speaker, and bestselling author of Anything You Want

Created with Vellum

For Candace, Conner, and Maxwell

ITS DARK OUTSIDE.

L ate fall. The sun sets earlier and earlier each day. Ive always hated this time of year. Its sad. You get up and go to work when its dark, and its dark again by the time you get home.

Im home now, sitting at our small IKEA table I use to pay our bills. I take a deep breath as I stare at the check in my hand. The more I look at it, the more despair settles over me. I toss it on the table next to the open envelope torn across my parents return address and push myself up. I take the nine steps to join my family in our tiny kitchen in the small house that I cant afford.

Candace is standing at the furthest counter, her back to me, preparing dinner. Conner, our nine-month-old, bops around in his Jumperoo watching his mom work.

I dont say anything.

I just stand there, taking it all in.

LETS BACK UP SIX MONTHS.

E verything was pretty close to perfect.

I had a day job with great health insurance and paid vacation. I had also built up my side business to a place where it was bringing in enough money to support us.

People around town appreciated my skills too.

My uncle-in-law put my name in at his company, one of the best employers in town. They offered me a job with more money, better benefits and longer vacation. I turned it down because I wouldnt be able to manage my side projects and give my commitment to the corporation at the same time.

And then, two months after our first son Conner was born, Candace and I agreed that I could do the thing I thought everyone else at work was too afraid to do.

I turned in my two-weeks notice.

I would go it alone and build my own thing.

I was so proud of myself.

All my friends were talking about starting their own businesses and pursuing their dreams, but I was the only one with the guts to do it.

NOW I WAS OUT OF MONEY.

I t wasnt just I, either.

We were out of money. We had barely enough in our bank account to pay for food, much less a car payment, mortgage payment, water bill, electric bill, gas bill, and everything else that went into surviving.

I pictured us having to move into my in-laws house. Every morning Id have to have coffee with the man whose daughter and grandson I was too much of a failure to provide for.

Desperate, I called my parents and whimpered for help.

Could they send me a check out of the money theyd saved to retire?

I left the kitchen, went upstairs into our one tiny bathroom, closed the door, sat on the toilet, and broke down.

What was wrong with me?

Why couldnt I do this?

Why was I so broken?

It wasnt even that something big had gone wrong.

I didnt lose my biggest client.

There wasnt some big, unexpected bill that came along.

No, this was on me.

Every day I would get up, go into my office, and then waste most of the day playing video games, talking with friends, and avoiding my work.

Then as the day neared its end, Id panic and start trying to get a bunch of work done, but it would soon be time to go home. The entire drive back to my house Id feel the shame of wasting another day and make bold, audacious promises to myself that tomorrow would be different.

But then it wasnt.

Stack up enough of those useless days, and you have a bunch of clients that are mad because their work isnt done.

And when you dont do your work, the clients cant be billed. Soon, you dont have any money coming in. Your bank account runs dry. Youve put yourself in a place that forces you to call your parents to ask them to send you a check because youre going to miss a mortgage payment if they dont.