The power of creating something is to gradually, slowly, surely solidify who we are and who we want to be.

I've learned so much about writing and writing practices from so many people. One I've been thinking about this week is a combined lesson from my brother and Seth Godin. Ewan once said to me: 'One of the things I've learned from Seth Godin is that it's ok to write about the same things over and over again.'

This is a powerful lesson. A reminder that the practice is what matters. A reminder that there is no new wisdom to be created, but that doesn't mean that it isn't worth sharing with your own flavour. A reminder that although I may have written about a topic before, that doesn't mean everyone has found my writing about that topic. A reminder that really, really, really, it only matters if one new person finds my writing this time and is changed by it.

And a reminder that one person will definitely be changed by my writing about the same thing again: me.

That was in my mind this week when a friend of mine reflected on my last article, about guilt and how it can offer us a big reward if we listen: that a writing practice helps us organise our thoughts.

Turning my writing into a series of books has taken that to a new level. It has taken me back through the first three years of this blog, re-emphasising things, showing me the world anew through a lens I created for myself, 12 minutes at a time.

One of the pieces that will be a chapter in the second 12-Minute Method book, due out later this year, has been in my mind this week because the lesson of that piece showed up again, so clearly, three years or so on from that first piece.

I spent Monday and Tuesday this week in worry. Ahead of an early end to the week for a trip away, too many calls had to be squeezed into too few days. That was mixed with childcare pickups, a delivery which I couldn't afford to miss (because it would be hard for the courier to leave 1000 copies of my book in a safe place), and other work I wanted to get done before the end of the week. I had even offered one client a session on the day we were leaving: I didn't mind doing this, but it added to the pressure on that day.

I was worried, worried, worried.

I know the path for me in my growth: the path of trust. Trust that things will be ok. Trust that the universe will provide everything in the perfect space-time combination.

And yet I couldn't. Not easily. That's why it's the path of growth.

But what happened? One of my clients missed a session because of an IT problem, opening up time in my diary. The delivery was miraculously scheduled for the one hour that either my wife or I were free to receive it on Wednesday. My client on Thursday morning was in the kind of place where we only needed 15 minutes of the time we had scheduled before the conversation was complete.

The worry wasn't necessary. It was just stress and energy wasted. Happiness reduced.

Worry doesn't have to be that way. It can be useful, helping us make arrangements and mitigate future problems or disaster. But mostly - for me at least - it is just an upper limit problem, not letting me be as happy as I could be if I just trusted.

It would be lovely to think that once we have seen an insight then our life would be different from that point forward. That we would have the nimbleness in every moment to avoid that trap from the first time we see it forever more. That isn't how I've found it to be.

And that's why creating something like this writing practice, which clarifies, tracks, records and solidifies our thoughts and the lessons we are learning, is so valuable. And why taking it and turning it into something else, in my case a book, amplifies that (although I'm only leanring that now).

Because almost always, if we create something, we create it for us first. I have needed my book, at every stage of the process of publication, to remind me of the dark side of my perfectionism (the beauty of the perfectionism being a pursuit of true excellence), to get me out of my own way and into action again.

And I need all the lessons in it, including the one about worry, to help me move through the worry next time just that little bit more quickly than I would before.

Yes, creating things can change others. But first and foremost the power of creating something is to gradually, slowly, surely solidify who we are and who we want to be.

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This is the latest in a series of articles written using the 12-Minute Method: write for twelve minutes, proof read once with tiny edits and then post online. 

The first 12-Minute Method Book - How to Start When You're Stuck - is out now!