“Write what you know.” That’s the advice everyone gives new authors when they’re struggling to figure out what to write.

My mentors gave me that same guidance. “OK then,” I thought. “I’ll write about things that have happened to me.”

But here’s the problem: my life is boring—with a big ol’ capital B. 

I don’t do “exciting.” I have a calm but uneventful life. So what on earth could I write that anyone would actually want to read? 

I combed through my daily routine, desperate for inspiration. 

I get up at 5:15 every morning. Nope—not a story there. 

Then I feed my critters breakfast and scoop kitty litter. Not even close. 

I go to my 6 A.M. boxing class. Who wants to read about that? 

But then…wait a minute. I started thinking about when I first began boxing. 

The year I turned 60, I decided I needed to get stronger. I had no desire to get weaker as I got older. I’d seen the boxing gym that had recently opened in our little town, and thought, “Why not?” 

I walked in, shaking in my boots, and said, “Can you make me stronger?”

“Of course,” the young man behind the counter replied, all confidence. 

I wasn’t so sure. I don’t know about you, but I’ve always been my own worst enemy. 

Believing in myself? Trusting my abilities? Convincing myself that I can do it? Not exactly my strong suits.

So when I met my boxing coach, I had a laundry list of pre-conceived ideas about my own limitations.

Luckily for me, he didn’t put up with my excuses.

ME: Boxing is stressing me out.

COACH: Get over it.

ME: It’s too hard.

COACH: It is if you keep that attitude.

ME: I can’t do it.

COACH: Then you’ve already lost.

Coach knew something I didn’t: the biggest opponent I had to face wasn’t in the ring. It was in my mind.

The naysaying voice inside me had always been my toughest rival—and if I didn’t learn to silence it, I’d lose — Not just in boxing, but in life. 

I won’t lie; it took years to fully grasp what Coach was teaching me. 

For the longest time, I twisted his tough love into something it wasn’t. 

• “Oh, Coach just doesn’t like me,” I’d think.
• “Coach doesn’t believe I can do this.” 
• “Maybe Coach just wants me to quit.”
  

But here’s the truth: it wasn’t Coach thinking those things. It was ME.

Learning to believe in yourself, to like yourself, to push forward even when you don’t want to—these are skills worth practicing at any age. 

And there it was: not just any story, but MY story. A story that needed to be told. A story only I could write. 

So I wrote it. 

It became my first picture book, about a little girl named Piper who—yep, you guessed it—was a boxer. 

I encourage you to believe in your self-worth and practice pushing forward. Climb that mountain staring you in the face! 

Every day, I feel closer to conquering my own massive mountain.

Here’s to you conquering yours.

-Peni Clark