I shouldn't be writing in English

English isn't my first language.

My native language is French. I grew up speaking it. I still think in it. I still dream in it.

Yet when I started on Twitter, I chose to write in English. And I'm still writing in English now — even this letter to you.

At first, it seemed impossible.

I asked myself: What if everything I wrote sounded off? What if native speakers noticed every awkward turn? What if I was being quietly judged?

Then one day I realised something — None of those were facts. They were just excuses. The kind I'd been carrying around for years.

That's when I accepted it was a personal belief. Not a real obstacle.

So I started anyway.

There's a sentence I read once that stayed with me:

"Of all paths, always choose the hardest one."

And here's what actually happened:

• Almost no one cared about the imperfections.

• People wanted to know if what I was saying actually meant something to them.

• Nothing stopped the message from landing — not the grammar, not the word choice, not the slightly off rhythm of someone writing in their second language.

If anything, the imperfections made it sound more like me. Less polished. More honest.

Here's what really helped me, in case it helps you too.

I think out loud in my native language, voice notes, just talking. Then I translate the ideas afterwards, not word for word. What comes out is closer to how I actually think.

I use AI to clean up the grammar, never to rewrite the voice. That slightly off rhythm has to stay. It's what makes it sound like me.

I specifically use a tool called AudioPen, every day. Whether I'm walking, driving, or sitting at my desk, I dictate my thoughts, and it cleans them up for me.

And I read writers I admire in English. Not to copy them. To absorb their cadence. Where they cut sentences short. Where they pause. What they leave out.

I recently picked up a book that gives real tools for improving the way you write in English. The author is Roy Peter Clark — he studied the greatest classical writers and broke down what made their writing work.

I highly recommend it:

That was the practical work. The rest was learning to get past my own blocks.

I think this is true of most of the excuses we carry.

• The age we think is too late.

• The background we think is too unconventional.

• The voice we think isn't legitimate enough.

• The time we think we don't have.

They feel like real obstacles. Most of the time, they aren't.

They're the disguise our fear wears so we don't have to find out what we're capable of.

Whatever version of "I'm not the right person to do this" is looping in your head right now — there's a good chance it's much smaller than you imagine.

Speak soon,