If there’s something you really want to do, often it’s as simple as just doing it. Remember, I am talking about the real stuff, not pipe dreams. In the end you don’t need tricks or gimmicks. It comes down to the difference between trying and doing, between talking about it and acting; and ultimately it depends on the double bottom line: intention and attention. Do you really intend to do it? Are you willing to give it the attention it requires?

If so, then you simply need to start. In design thinking parlance, it’s time to enact what we call the bias toward action and determine how you can move toward your goal.

Let’s say your goal is to write a book.

Checking Facebook five times a day is not getting your book written. Talking about writing is not getting your book written. Texting your friends . . . well, you get the idea. Even joining a writers’group or going to a writers’ conference isn’t going to get you there. What gets you there is putting your butt in the chair and your fingers on the keyboard for extended lengths of time. You need to commit to write, even if the first draft comes out terribly.

When I set out to write this book, I began by waking up earlier so that I could get in some writing time before my wife, Ruth, awoke. Even when that meant I got very little sleep, I did it anyway. I took a few days off here and there, but they were the exception. The rule was that I was there at my computer, showing up each morning, until I had finished. I chose to make it my priority over anything that might distract me from it.

When people talk about who’s stopping them from achieving their goals, it’s often a critic. A family member might once have said something thoughtlessly insulting, a teacher might have given you a bad grade, a former boss might have thought you were a dunce. Yet none of these critics can actually stop you, nor do negative people deserve any spot in your path. Even if they have stolen your keyboard and broken all your pencils, they don’t have any actual power to stop you.

In reality, no one’s usually trying to prevent us from achieving our goals. The situation is most often one like that brilliantly portrayed in the British TV series The Prisoner. Throughout the series the hero, identified as Number Six, is trying to escape from evil people who are working for the villain, Number One. Finally, in the last episode he understands the answer to his question “Who is Number One?” When he first heard the answer in episode 1, it sounded like “You are Number Six.” Now he understands that the answer to “Who is Number One?” is “You are, Number Six.” He had metaphorically imprisoned himself. As Franz Kafka put it, “It was a barred cage that he was in. Calmly and insolently, as if at home, the din of the world streamed out and in through the bars, the prisoner was really free, he could take part in everything, nothing that went on outside escaped him, he could simply have left the cage, the bars were yards apart, he was not even a prisoner.”

Even when there is a real obstacle, it is possible to get around it. Years ago my wife, Ruth, and I were traveling in India, and we changed our departure date via telephone so that we were leaving one day earlier. When we arrived at the Delhi airport at about 2:00 a.m., the guard would not let us enter the terminal because our paper ticket was for the following day. We explained that we had changed the flight date, but he wouldn’t budge.

I pointed out to him that the United Airlines desk was within view, and  if he allowed me to go there, I could get the date changed on my ticket and come back to show him. He refused. I offered to leave my passport with him as a guarantee. He refused. I offered to leave my wife with him as a guarantee. He refused. I offered both my wife and passport. He still refused!

Then I made a bold choice. I had seen his rifle; it looked like it was old, possibly pre-independence, and likely useless. I figured the chances of it blowing up in his hands were greater than the chances of the bullet actually reaching me. So I calmly took Ruth’s hand and just walked past him. He did not shoot, and I did not look back.