The Secret Framework That Changed How I Write (and How My Readers Feel)

Encourage – courage – discourage

Apr 03, 2025

Self-doubt arrived that morning like a physical presence, a heavy cloak suffocating my creativity.

The question hammered in my mind: "Who am I to write this? Why should anyone listen? What if this finally proves I'm a fake?"

The familiar panic rose, the urge to close the laptop, to abandon the page. It wasn't just writer's block; it was a full-blown emotional siege.

But that morning, destined for despair, became the unlikely birthplace of a breakthrough

I call it the Encourage – Courage – Discourage (ECD) framework.

At first glance, it sounds simple. But like most things that matter, it’s layered. It’s not just a framework—it’s an emotional compass. One that taught me how to keep writing when I wanted to quit. One that helped me stop editing myself into oblivion. One that turned my Substack into a space where people come to feel seen.

Let me walk you through it. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll do the same for you.

The Framework: A Quick Definition

The Encourage – Courage – Discourage framework breaks down like this:

Encourage: Creating conditions of psychological safety and hope.
Courage: The willingness to be vulnerable in the face of uncertainty.
Discourage: Recognizing the inner (and outer) voices that block creativity.

Think of it as a cycle. We encourage ourselves (and others) enough to take courageous action. But along the way, discouragement creeps in. If we don't recognize and disrupt it, it can shut us down.

For writers, this shows up all the time—on the page, in our heads, in the feedback loop with readers.

Let’s unpack it with a story.

Encourage – Build the Ground Before You Leap

After I closed my laptop that morning, I went for a walk. No headphones. Just me and my racing thoughts.

Halfway through, I remembered a line I’d underlined in a Brené Brown:

“You either walk inside your story and own it, or you stand outside your story and hustle for your worthiness.”

I wasn’t owning anything. I was hustling—for approval, perfection, validation. No wonder I couldn’t write.

That day, I tried something radical. I wrote myself a letter of encouragement. Not a motivational pep talk. A raw, real, tear-stained letter from my wiser self to the one who wanted to give up.

It said:

You’re not here to be impressive. You’re here to be of service. Write the messy thing. Someone out there needs it, exactly as it is.

Encouragement activates the prefrontal cortex—the part responsible for decision-making and forward movement. According to research from Stanford University, self-compassion practices improve motivation more than criticism. When we encourage ourselves, we shift from fear to action.

That letter didn’t make me Hemingway. But it got me back to the page. And that’s everything.

Courage – Write the Scary Thing

Now comes the meat: Courage.

Here’s the deal no one tells you about courage—it doesn’t feel brave in the moment. It feels terrifying.

Courage, by definition, is the ability to do something that frightens you. But the origin of the word? Comes from the Latin cor, meaning “heart.” So courage is really about speaking from the heart. Even when your hands shake.

That week, I wrote a story about my son’s illness. Something I’d never shared publicly. I was scared. It felt too personal, too sacred, too unfinished.

But I hit publish anyway.

The response? Overwhelming. Readers didn’t say, “Wow, what perfect prose!” They said, “Thank you for saying what I couldn’t say.”
They said, “I feel less alone now.”

That’s the power of courage. It’s not about being fearless. It’s about being honest. And honest writing is magnetic.

Discourage – The Voices That Shut You Down

Just when things were flowing, Discourage knocked on my door again. This time in the form of unsubscribes. A few passive-aggressive emails. A review that stung more than I wanted to admit.

And suddenly, I spiraled:
“Maybe I shared too much.”
“Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”
“Maybe I should just write something safe.”

Discouragement is sneaky. It wears many masks: perfectionism, procrastination, and people-pleasing. It convinces us that our value is tied to performance.

But once I named it for what it was—discouragement, not truth—I stopped giving it power.

Here’s where science helps again. Our brains have a negativity bias. We register negative feedback more intensely than positive feedback. But we can train our minds to neutralize it through reframing and self-awareness.

So I started asking: Is this feedback helping me grow—or shutting me down?

If it helped, I used it. If it shut me down, I deleted it and moved on.

Discouragement isn’t failure—it’s feedback. But it’s only useful if you know how to listen selectively.

How to Use This Framework for Your Readers

This framework doesn’t just help you write—it helps you lead. Whether you write essays, fiction, newsletters, or social media posts, your words are shaping emotional environments.

Use Encourage to make your readers feel safe. Share small wins. Celebrate their humanity. Speak to them, not at them.

Use Courage to tell the truth. Not the polished, marketable truth—but the raw, messy, liberating truth. Readers can smell authenticity a mile away. They will follow you when you’re real.

Use Discourage as a mirror. What stories are your readers telling themselves that shut them down? Write the words that disarm those voices. Tell the stories that say, You’re not broken. You’re brave.

When I Applied This, Everything Changed

Since I started using this framework, my writing feels different.

Not easier—just truer.

I stopped chasing virality and started chasing honesty.
I stopped trying to sound smart and started trying to sound human.
I stopped editing out the pain—and started trusting that my vulnerability might light the way for someone else.

And ironically? More people read my work now than ever before. Not because I cracked an algorithm. But because I cracked myself open.

Try This Today

So here’s what I want you to do:

Write a letter of encouragement to yourself before you write. Not to boost your ego—but to remind yourself why you write.
Choose one thing you’ve been scared to say—and say it. Doesn’t have to be a bombshell. Just one honest sentence more than you usually share.
Name your discouragement. Give it a character, a voice, a name. Mine is called “Bertha”—and she always wants me to sound professional, perfect, and polished. I thank her for her input, then hit publish anyway.

The Truth Is This…

We don’t need more perfect writers. We need more honest ones. Writers who dare to say the thing. Writers who make space for others to breathe.

So next time you feel like quitting, remember:
Encourage yourself.
Be courageous.
Recognize discouragement for what it is—not a stop sign, just a speed bump.

Then get back to the page.

Because someone out there is waiting for your truth to make them feel less alone.

Want to keep writing from the heart and showing up with courage?

Comment with your biggest writing fear—and let’s face it together.