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This is the book I wish someone had written when I was first starting out. Written from inside a neurodivergent creative process — and useful for any creator whose brain has never quite worked the way the standard advice assumes. It contains thirty-years of tough love. Less distraction. More completion.
You don’t need more ideas.
You need a way to stay with them.
If you’ve ever:
Started strong and lost momentum
Moved between projects without finishing
Waited to feel ready—and never quite did
Felt like you were capable of more, but couldn’t stabilize it
This field guide is for you.
Creator Rising is not about becoming more creative.
It’s about becoming someone who continues.
Inside, you’ll learn how to:
Direct your attention instead of scattering it
Recognize resistance—and stop following it
Build consistency without rigid systems
Finish what you start—even when it’s not perfect
Create meaningful work without chasing validation
This is not theory.
It’s a set of principles you can return to—again and again—as you build your creative life in real conditions.
No hype.
No perfect system.
No waiting for the right moment.
Just clear guidance you can use immediately.
Because the work doesn’t happen when everything lines up.
It happens when you begin…
And keep going.
Take this with you.
Use what you need.
Return when you drift.
Available wherever fine books are sold!
Nan Narboe’s 56 thoughtfully selected essays offer an intimate and lyrical account of aging through the decades.
Authors Judy Blume, Andrew McCarthy, Gloria Steinem, Donald Hall, David Shields, Ursula K. Le Guin and others draw from their own experiences, describing a specific decade’s losses and gains to form a complex and unflinching portrait of the years from nearing fifty to ninety and beyond.
In six sections, these detail-rich essays paint an accessible picture of nearing 50, the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, the 90s and beyond with equal parts humor and insight.
Drawing on seven decades worth of experiences, the selected essays offer a clear-eyed composition of narratives, each narrative as important as the one before it. In Paul Casey’s “Katie Couric Is No Friend of Mine,” a colonoscopy, not a red convertible, marks his initiation into mid-life. Germaine Koh, in “Thoughts on Aging,” is the oldest player in her roller derby league, confounded by her changing body. Ursula K. Le Guin’s “Dogs, Cats, and Dancers: Thoughts about Beauty” meditates on human self-consciousness–it is aging humans who find their bodies surprising. And in “Death,” Donald Hall rejects euphemisms: he’s not going to “pass away;” he’s going to die.