A recent article in The Guardian, kind of summed up by its title ("A dirty secret: you can only be a writer if you can afford it"), has done its bit to blow the lid on an entire industry - and also an idealised view on life we all might be guilty of having.

That view is that achieving our dreams is somehow egalitarian in its nature - available to all; that all you need is talent and passion and fate will take care of the rest. This author's inconvenient truth, when it comes to the literary business, however, is that this idea simply isn't true.

You need financial backing if you want to be a writer, says Lynn Steger. That means at a very basic level, you need to be able to pay the rent, pay the bills and buy food while you are penning the next classic work of literature (and then you might have to pay out a very tidy sum to publicise the thing if you want anyone to know it actually exists).

Very few people can do this, Steger notes. And the ones who can are either already well-taken care of financially - or have a partner who can pick up the slack while they take X amount of months off work to allow themselves the sufficient time and space they need to be creative.

As she writes:

What gets your juices flowing? What do you do regardless of reward or recognition? No-one's asked you to do it, no-one's paying you to do it, but you do it anyway, because it makes you happy.

If there is anything at all, you have hit the gold standard, you have nailed intrinsic motivation, a doorway to life satisfaction, meaning, purpose and flow.

The ability to be make ourselves happy, independent of anyone else, or any external factors (like wealth, geography, a network of contacts etc) is a bonafide superpower. It is perhaps the single most important skill we will stumble across in our lives.

It can give our lives meaning, when perhaps things aren't going our way - and give us the necessary fortitude and willingness to persevere, even if we are not receiving validation for our efforts.

It's the polar opposite of obligation. This is something we do purely because we want to, because there is something about this activity that means something to us, that has value.  It allows us to experience that feeling of autonomy in a singular area of our lives, even when we lack it in others. And it means we can actually have thrilling inner lives even if we appear to be living distinctly average outer ones.

Can "good enough" really ever be good enough? Your answer to that question will determine which of the following two categories you typically fall under: Maximiser or Satisficer (and yes, it is spelt that way).

According to psychologist Barry Schwartz, a Maximiser wants the absolute best of everything. It has to be perfect, nothing less will do and all options must be exhausted before the holy-grail-of-whatever is finally found.

While this might seem admirable - and in certain situations, it is - a Satisficer is often the one who actually wins out in the end, according to research.

A Satisficer has a clear idea of what they are looking for but will happily settle for the first option that meets their requirements.

They make their decisions quicker (saving time), maintain higher levels of satisfaction with their choice, have fewer regrets and are less likely to compare themselves to others, leading to higher levels of happiness.

Tim Ferriss has some unusual advice: if you want to be good at something, don't aim for the stars.  The secret is to aim much lower than that - even for the trash.

Why? It makes the task you are facing far less intimidating and easier-to-achieve. And it is that feeling of achievement that gets the creative juices flowing.

Feeling overwhelmed by a job-at-hand - i.e. living in a state of performance anxiety or creative paralysis - is a perfect breeding ground for creative block and procrastination to take root.

That feeling of overwhelm can often happen when we are thinking too big. We are setting impossibly high standards for ourselves,  placing obstacles in our path before we have even got started.

Some words don't give their meaning justice. And some are just off-putting. "Grit" is one of these words.

It sounds harsh, mechanical, heartless; a "pull-yourself-together-and get-on-with-it" type word. It isn't particularly reassuring, uplifting or inspiring. And it can feel grating on the ears if offered as a suggestion when you are faced by what feels like an impossible task ahead of you.

But grit isn't about testosterone-fuelled chest-pounding. You don't have to be Tarzan to have it.

And you certainly don't have to be Tony Robbins to use it.

Grit can be gentle, it can be slow, it can be plodding. The people who have grit are simply the ones who can marry their dedication to a wish or a task or a cause with a drive and commitment to carry it out (at whatever pace).