Welcome to a behind-the-scenes look at my inner monologue — scratch that — dialogue.
Me: I really want to start writing more.
Also Me: Well, you’ve started writing more on LinkedIn – that’s a good start.
Me: Yes, true. But I haven’t published a Leadership Letter in forever and I’d really like to and I feel badly I haven’t.
Also Me: It would be great to get back into writing longer-form content again. But give yourself some grace — there’s been a lot going on.
Me: I know, but at some point you just have to put your bum in the chair and do it.
Also Me: Yes, you do. Why don’t you start today? It’s the first day of September, and one kiddo is off to school. It’s a good time.
Me: Yes! Today IS the day I start. I’m not getting out of this chair until I’ve written a fresh Leadership Letter. Period.
Also Me: Good for you.
Me: stares at blank screen // checks Twitter // gets more coffee // organizes sticky note collection — I have nothing to say. I am void of ideas. I may never write again.
Whenever someone asks me what I’d like to do more of in my work, I reply with the same answer every time: write more.
I’m never surprised by my answer and no matter what season of life I’m in, it always feels true.
It also often feels impossibly hard.
I’ve been writing my entire life: stories, articles, press releases, brochure copy, speeches, blog posts, newsletters and more. I have a degree in communications. I’ve had my work published in magazines, newspapers and various websites. I’ve been paid to write, and I’ve written for free.
And it still feels hard most days.
Sometimes it feels hard because I’m fighting a migraine and my head hurts too much.
Sometimes it feels hard because I’ve got too much going on life-wise and trying to coalesce my thoughts into one clear message feels harder than listening to my kid explain her latest Roblox game.
Sometimes it feels hard because I’ve given myself a deadline no reasonable human could meet (I’m a masochist like that).
Sometimes it feels hard because my Itty Bitty Shitty Committee pipes up and tells me that my writing isn’t smart enough, clever enough or unique enough to even bother with.
But most often it feels hard because it is hard.
Writing IS hard.
Not always of course. But ask any writer worth their salt and you’ll hear a version of Dorothy Parker’s famous line:
I hate writing. I love having written.
And while I don’t have hard data to back me up, I’d bet all my money in the world that the thing you do — the thing that you care about and would love to do more of if given the opportunity — still feels hard at times (or often).
Doing things that matter to us aren’t always easy, despite what social media may tell us (follow your passion quotes, I’m looking at you).
Yes, we hope to find flow and fulfilment as we engage with our work, but that doesn’t always mean we get to that place without a lot of kicking and screaming.
You’re a smart cookie, so I’m sure you know this already. But I also know how easy it is to forget.
Don’t let the hard hold you back.
Don’t let the hard convince you you’re not capable.
And don’t let the hard tell you that it should be easy or it shouldn’t be for you.
So here we are: you are now reading this Leadership Letter, which means I finally got it finished and hit publish.
I got through that hard part — the blank screen, the self-doubt, the fumbling and bumbling words — and I did the thing I say I want to do more of.
And while it might feel a little bit easier next week, my money is on more kicking and screaming as I try to find my words to share with you.
The good news is that I care about it enough to deal with a few bumps and bruises along the way. I hope you do too.
To quote one of my favourite movies…
“It’s supposed to be hard. If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great.”
~Tom Hanks as Jimmy Dugan, A League of their Own
Steph
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