I don’t ever wonder why people would hire a book/writing coach like me. Twenty-five years of helping clients work through their writing struggles and publish their books tells me all I need to know. But if there was any lingering doubt, all I’d have to do is look at myself.

For years, I’ve had a novel in mind. I know the setting—the High Sierra resort where I’ve spent so much of my life. I know a number of the characters. I even know the title, which came as a surprise after three strong contenders over the years.

The first two working titles—Flakes in the Snow and As the Bullwheel Turns—were conceived with a friend in a Santa Monica restaurant and bar called Chez Jay and recorded on a cocktail napkin. Two decades later, another working title—The Land of Broken Toys—showed up when different friends and I were discussing the evolving concept of the novel I had yet to start.

Actually, that last part is not true. A few months ago, while going through ancient files, I found a copy of a manuscript I do not remember writing along with a note from my dad, one of the country’s top magazine journalists who also wrote nonfiction books and novels, detailing why my novel did not work and how I might start rethinking it. My reaction, it would seem, was to bury it so deep that I didn’t even remember its existence.

While I did drag it out of the file cabinet, along with my father’s memo, I have yet to look at either. I’m sure the sense of failure attached to that early attempt is a factor. I also know that I let the tasks on my to-do list get in the way of what is clearly a more important and meaningful endeavor. I have to remind myself of the only quote in the entire Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff series that seemed fresh and important: When you die, your inbox will be full.

If I had a coach, the built-in accountability would move my novel toward the top of my priority list, preceded only by my clients, my health and life necessities, and my pups. I would honor the time blocking I’ve had in place for the last year.

So, I will start coaching myself. And if that doesn’t pan out, I’ll look for my own book/writing coach whose personality and working style mesh with mine, and who believes as strongly as I do in the power of sloppy copy and brainstorming.