Remembering You’ll Die: Why to Live and Write Fearlessly

A Glimpse into My Life

I’ve always had a taste for fashion, but it wasn’t until last year that I started leaning into it. My style tends to favor the elegant—outfits you don’t see every day anymore—and I’ve got a soft spot for colorful pieces. That’s why, as I was browsing for new pants, a pair of yellow khakis grabbed my attention. 

I’ll admit, I paused for a moment. Yellow khakis? That’s bold – maybe even a little ridiculous. But the idea stuck with me. I started picturing the whole look: a yellow blazer, a black button-up shirt, and those yellow khakis. It hit me – I could put together a little tribute to one of my idols, Bruce Lee.

And you know what sealed the deal for me? This simple thought: I’m going to die one day.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought – deciding to buy and wear a predominately yellow outfit because I will die one day. I even joked about it with a friend, the absurdity of it all making it seem like nothing more than a funny moment to laugh at and move on.

But later, as I thought about it, my mind drifted back to the first time I read The 50th Law. That’s where I first came across a little concept called memento mori.

Memento Mori

Memento mori is a Latin phrase that translates to “remember you will die.” It’s an old concept, dating back to ancient Rome, where generals were said to have servants whispering it in their ears during their triumphs. The idea was to remind them, even at the height of their power, of their mortality – that no matter how great they were, they were still human, and death was inevitable.

Later, the concept took on a more philosophical and artistic angle during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. You’d find it in art, literature, and even personal practices – things like skull motifs or hourglasses were used to remind people of the fleeting nature of life. The purpose wasn’t to be morbid or depressing; it was to push people to focus on what matters, to live with purpose, and to avoid wasting time on things that don’t.

At its heart, memento mori is about clarity. It strips away all the distractions and makes you ask yourself: “If I’m going to die one day, how should I live today?” It’s a powerful mindset because it encourages boldness and reminds you to make the most of your time.

With that in mind, I explored it a bit more again, thinking about it from the lens of an author.

Mortality as a Catalyst for Focus and Action

When you truly embrace the idea of mortality, something shifts. Time stops feeling endless, and the excuses we make – “I’ll do it later” or “I’m not ready yet” – start to fall apart. Mortality reminds us that “later” isn’t guaranteed, and for writers, that realization can be transformative.

Procrastination often comes from fear. Fear of failure, fear that the work won’t be good enough, or even fear of the blank page. But when you accept that your time is finite, those fears lose their grip. What’s the worst that could happen? Writing something imperfect is still better than leaving your ideas unwritten.

Mortality doesn’t just push you to act—it helps you focus. It makes you ask: What really matters? Not every project is worth your time, and not every idea deserves energy. When you view your creative goals through the lens of memento mori, you prioritize the work that truly resonates with you—the stories you’d be proud to leave behind.

And here’s the thing: you don’t have to do it all at once. Progress, no matter how small, still counts. A sentence today, a paragraph tomorrow—it all adds up. The important thing is that you’re moving forward, creating something real instead of waiting for the “perfect” time to start. Because that perfect moment? It doesn’t exist.

So, the next time you catch yourself procrastinating, ask yourself: If I only had a year left, is this the story I’d want to write? Would I regret not starting it? Mortality strips away the noise and gives you clarity. It pushes you to stop waiting, stop doubting, and begin. Every word you write is a step closer to creating something that outlasts you – and that’s what matters.