I hadn’t written a single word. Not a paragraph, not an outline—nothing. But there I was, staring at three book covers I had just uploaded to Amazon KDP, each with a release date locked in two weeks from now. No turning back. No extensions. Just a terrifying, non-negotiable deadline.

And that’s when I realized: I wasn’t going to write these books. I was going to assemble them.

Most people think writing a book is about the act of writing—painstakingly crafting words, struggling through drafts, and waiting for inspiration to strike.

But that’s the biggest myth of all.

Writing isn’t about the action of writing. It’s about the assembly of ideas. Remove the inefficiency from the process, and the book becomes the inevitable outcome.

Right now, there is years' worth of unpursued, neglected fragments of ideas sitting in hard drives and forgotten notebooks—ideas that will never see the light of day.

They wither from the lack of creative perspiration. The very thoughts that could change a tribe, transform a bloodline, create generational wealth, and break free from the curse of poverty die—not because they lacked value, but because no one thought like a welder.

No one saw that ideas don’t need to be written—they need to be assembled.

Most people think writing starts with a problem to solve. But that’s not where this begins.

It starts with a question.

Not a question about “how to fix” something. Not yet. Instead, a question that exposes inefficiency in a process.

  • Why do ideas take so long to launch? (Premise for "Launch This Weekend")

  • Why does selling feel uncomfortable, even when the buyer benefits the most? (Premise for "Buyer's Brain")

  • Why do high-ticket clients enroll in coaching but fail to get results—and why do coaches blame the clients? (Premise for "Coaches’ Blueprint")

Once the question is defined, the real work begins.

Step 1: Creating Buckets—Data Acquisition

Instead of starting with a blank page, I start with buckets. Each bucket represents a category of insights, experiences, or research that adds to the primary question.

I go into collection mode. Pulling insights from:
✅ Old notes and voice memos
✅ Conversations with peers
✅ Case studies and real-world examples
✅ Existing frameworks I’ve already created
✅ Historical patterns that repeat over time

This is the equivalent of a welder gathering metal scraps.

Step 2: Structuring the Assembly Line

1️⃣ The book structure forms first—like framing a house.
2️⃣ Each bucket gets slotted into chapters—like installing walls.
3️⃣ The gaps are minimal—requiring a connection, and not creation.

Step 3: Rapid Execution & Publishing

By the time I reach this stage, the book is already written—it just hasn’t been formatted yet.

At this point, it’s about:
✅ Fast editing & polishing
✅ Formatting for Amazon KDP
✅ Hitting "Publish" before overthinking ruins it

Within two weeks, three books are live.

Because I didn’t write them.
I assembled them.

Writing a book is like being a master chef, carefully crafting each dish from scratch. But in reality, it’s more like IKEA furniture assembly—where the real genius isn’t in creating raw materials, but in designing a process that makes assembling them effortless.

The Master Chef vs. The Sous Chef

A Michelin-star chef doesn’t start by chopping vegetables or measuring flour. That’s what the sous chef is for.

Before a single dish is plated, ingredients have already been sourced, prepped, and perfectly portioned. The chef’s job isn’t to hunt for ingredients—it’s to assemble them into something extraordinary.

Writing is no different. If you’re spending most of your time ‘writing’ instead of ‘assembling,’ you’re playing the role of the sous chef instead of the master chef.

The IKEA Effect—How Families Became Furniture Designers

IKEA transformed everyday people into DIY furniture designers—not because they had woodworking skills, but because the process was designed for assembly.

They removed complexity, provided a clear structure, and turned what should have been a frustrating experience into something enjoyable. The result? People take ownership of the furniture because they put it together themselves.

Books should be created the same way. When you approach writing as an assembly process, you remove the friction, eliminate the inefficiencies, and transform scattered ideas into something tangible.

"It’s bloody." That’s what you’ve been told to expect.

"It takes discipline." That’s what you’ve been told to expect.

"It’s passion." That’s what you’ve been told to expect.

And sure—maybe that’s true for most writers.

But I don’t write like most writers.

I don’t suffer through drafts. I don’t bleed over pages. I don’t wait for inspiration to strike.

Instead, I ask better questions.

Because writing isn’t about suffering. It’s about welding ideas into something bigger than yourself.

I have a confession to make.

This article wasn’t written by me.

I just assembled it.

I used my writing GPT—one designed to make you a master assembler and an ideas welder. I call it The Penning Maestro.

And now? I want to gift it to you.

If you’re ready to commit, I’ll walk you through the exact frameworks for rapidly launching ideas to market—LIVE, this weekend.

The cost? Just $249 $100.

Go to https://launchthisweekend.com to sign up.

Because your ideas deserve to be assembled, launched, and gifted to the world.