Creating with intention
There’s no substitute for hours put in. Good work requires commitment and emotional investment. You can try to make shortcuts, but your audience will know. More importantly, you will know.
If you don’t feel like it’s risky, it’s probably not worth doing. Don’t take shortcuts, no matter how tempting they may seem.
Do the work.
A student saw KEEP THE FLAME ALIVE on a movie poster and asked me, “What is flame and why does it need to be alive?” The movie was about a married couple inviting a stranger into their home to try to spice up their fizzling love life.
I described fire, from the moment you flick a match until the last wisps of smoke float away. “You know how happy you are when you get a new shirt?” I asked. He nodded enthusiastically. “But in time, the shirt gets old and you don’t like it as much?” More agreement. If you don’t take care of fire, it eventually burns out.
Not only fire. Energy, projects, teams, excitement, zest, flavor, curiosity. What’s new is exciting and mysterious. In time, mystique and interest become be replaced with comfort and familiarity. It’s up to you to decide which characteristics best serve you.
Post modified from this Medium article, posted July 15, 2015.
A few days ago I listened to this podcast with Gary Vaynerchuck and James Altucher. There are many gems packed into the hour-long segment: advice on entrepreneurship, goal setting and finding your passion. Gary encourages listeners to gear up for the long haul and keep sights focused on that seemingly distant finish line — where freedom, self worth, pride, and a life [well] enjoyed await. He says that most people give of themselves with expectation, giving in order to receive. That’s the wrong approach, he says, and encourages people that the process should be: give-give-give-ask.
Almost three years ago, I came to Nepal was a volunteer. First in a monastery and now at a learning center, I have lived alongside locals struggling to put children through school, build fires to cook, cope with natural disasters, and handle political strife. Yet they encounter personal hardships with grace and admirable resilience, and I want to tell their stories.
I have been selected to participate in the Artist in Residence program at Woodstock Byrdcliffe Guild, and I will be traveling from Nepal to attend. The program lasts four weeks and “provides artists of exceptional talent with uninterrupted time and creative space to research and create new work.” I have been granted a partial fellowship and will be joined by 4 writers, 7 visual artists, 2 ceramicists and 1 musical composer.
My aim is to write a piece that is beautiful, compelling and describes both the injustices and strength I witness here in Nepal. To learn more about what I’ve done to support education and leadership locally, please visit Khata: Life and Learning House Nepal.
I’m asking now. I’d like to ask you to consider helping me participate by visiting this Generosity page. You can also share using this link: https://igg.me/at/G7dVeTfHb5o.
It’s not easy to ask. You’re putting yourself out there and your mind becomes filled with worries and doubt and insecurity. But when a community rallies behind you and supports you and your work, it opens up new experiences, creativity and joy — and opportunities you might never had expected. (For more on this topic, check out Amanda Palmer’s The Art of Asking.)
Thank you for your generosity and encouragement of my work.
This week marks the 3rd anniversary of Project Exponential; 3 years of meals served, friends made, and surprising connections between industries and ideas. I am filled with gratitude and awe when I think about those I have been fortunate to introduce.
The anniversary also marks three years of blogging. When I first started, it was a completely new venture. I wan’t sure how to go about it or what to say, and I didn’t know if anyone would care.
I’ve learned so much since those initial posts and want to share a glimpse of what I’ve gained along the way:
1. Establish a practice.
When I started blogging, I would churn out posts several times a week. Eventually I realized that with client work, hosting dinners and volunteering in Nepal, I was struggling to keep up. I settled on once a week and have held myself accountable ever since. My schedule has become routine. I find myself noting possible topics and thoughts that could turn into a post throughout the week.
My tip: Forget about what other bloggers are doing. Find what works for you and stick to it.
2. Small bricks build something substantial.
A handful of blog posts didn’t mean much at first. Three years later, I have accumulated a body of work I am proud of. I regularly receive emails from people who “stumble upon my blog” and find something useful. Put in time and commitment, and you’ll see results.
3. Blogging forces you to discover and connect.
Because of the blog, I have met new people, come across new ideas and found new sources of inspiration — both online and off. Searching for articles and specific topics has introduced me to inspiring bloggers and new theories. As a result, I’ve re-considered some of my viewpoints, developed new ways of thinking, added more sites to my Bookmarks bar, and have exchanged emails with talented writers.
4. Done is better than perfect.
This might be one of the most difficult lessons to learn, but it’s absolutely necessary. Waiting for perfection only hurts yourself. You can spend hours upon hours obsessing over nuances and phrases. Don’t give the Schedule/Publish button unnecessary power. Perfect is a crazy, evading word and we are our own worst critics. Do your best work, be prudent in your edits, then click Submit.
5. You don’t have to be technically inclined to blog.
Sure, I kept a blog when I was traveling around the world in my late teens. But when I considered blogging for professional purposes, I figured only famous people did it. I also thought I needed more technical knowledge. Turns out you don’t have to be computer savvy to write a blog people enjoy. With a choice of platforms and writing tools, anyone can get online and put their thoughts in the world.
6. Don’t stop experimenting.
The first few blog posts feel like a great big experiment. Everything is uncertain and new, and you don’t really have any idea how it works. That feeling eventually fades, but it doesn’t mean you should stop experimenting. Try new writing styles, vary posts from lists to personal accounts to asking questions to honest challenges. Challenge yourself to feel uncomfortable after you start feeling comfortable.
7. Blogging is good for business.
Aside from standard SEO results, the more you write, the more authority you have. Blogging helps cement what you know and show others you can back up your claims. Writing regularly on particular topics helps the right people find you and helps you provide clear information to potential customers. Links and trackbacks to other blogs can build relationships with experts in your industry, and regular posts prove that you’re relevant and up-to-date.
8. Caring what other people think only paralyzes you.
This speaks for itself. Obviously there are societal norms you should keep in mind, but too much questioning and assuming and worrying and forecasting will only ruin your writing and destroy your creative process.
9. I still write with a pen.
My best writing happens when I write in a notebook then transfer to a computer later on. I type directly when I’m short on time or traveling, but I recognize it’s just not as good. Knowing what works for you and acknowledging your strengths and weaknesses is instrumental to your development as a writer.
10. Read good writing.
I have a list of writers I respect and admire. Their websites are saved on my computer, and I drop in and see what they’re up to from time to time. I always leave their websites feeling inspired. Admiring the way they spin words and describe their experiences encourages me to keep working on my own craft.
Whoever those people are for you, study them. Figure out why you are drawn to their work and what is successful about their writing. The best teachers are perpetual students, and the best writers are perpetual readers. Strive to do both.
“Not married! You don’t want kids?” I often receive questions regarding my relationship status. My answer, it seems, disappoints/confuses many, as if some defect on my part has rendered me less valuable or ambitious.
A little under three years ago, I came to a developing country, alone, where I have volunteered as a social worker and teacher. I established an education center, built a solar grid and fundraised to bring clothes, scholarships and learning adventures to friends in need. Before arriving in Nepal, I qualified for Boston the first time I ran the NYC Marathon. I counsel students, entrepreneurs and notable personalities. I’ve traveled to over twenty countries, finished my Master’s at Columbia University, completed an original research project and graduated with honors from CU Boulder. I have started pro-social groups for adolescent delinquents and have a baby named after me. I’ve organized events that have brought people together from different disciplines and have maintained a weekly blog since 2012. My writing has been published in journals and online. I’ve listened to stories of immigrants and middle class families struggling to pay bills. I’m working on a book. Yet the question isn’t about what I’ve done or plan to do, it’s who and when I will marry.
This is a question I receive in all parts of the world, developed and less so. My single male friends, also in their 30s, seem to evade this inquiry. Instead, they are asked other success indicators: work, house, salary, dog. Isn’t it time we see each other for who we are instead of expectations we carry?
Isn’t it time to have conversations based upon the individual, without of assumptions of race or age or gender or income? Isn’t it time we listen for what drives another’s actions to hear what fuels their beliefs, their convictions, their dreams?
If we could listen more and judge less, our world would move closer towards that tolerant, respectful place we all deserve.
“What is your greatest accomplishment?” serves a much better bridge for meaningful conversation.