Why am I telling you all this?

I have a ways to go before I can perform confidently on concertina or accordion, but I’m happy to teach you what I’ve learned so far. (Image by v-a-n-3-ss-a)

I have a ways to go before I can perform confidently on concertina or accordion, but I’m happy to teach you what I’ve learned so far. (Image by v-a-n-3-ss-a)

In the 2006 Oscar-winning film Little Miss Sunshine, Greg Kinnear plays Richard, a washed up life coach of some kind. Richard teaches a framework called the “9 Steps” that he clings to, believing in its potential for transformation despite the fact that his own results are mediocre. Kinnear strikes just the right balance of pathos and comedy in his portrayal of a man who can’t even get himself to buy his own BS.

I really don’t want to be a Richard. I think a lot of us are afraid of being a Richard. And yet, we want to make a contribution to the world or at least share our ideas and creative work. How do we reconcile this desire with the fear that perhaps we’ve only deluded ourselves into thinking that we have something to offer?

First, we must accept that sharing any creative work leaves us open to criticism. However, even though people’s reactions to our efforts can be scary and frustrating and unpredictable, we might decide that putting ourselves out there is still worth the pain.

Then, we can realize that other people’s criticism is about them, not us. That doesn’t necessarily mean that what we’ve made is perfect and any criticism is invalid. No, it just means that even if what we made is perfect, there’s still someone who’s not gonna like it. When we realize that some people aren’t going to like what we do no matter what it is, that sets us free.

From there, we begin to see that unless we’ve actually entered a competition or contest, there is no jury panel waiting to judge our work based on an objective rating scale. We don’t necessarily have to meet a certain threshold of quality in order to be worthy; we’re allowed to start where we are. And we don’t even need to be the best; we can be worthy of the attention of others just by being reasonably competent.

If we enjoy being miserable, we might choose to waste our time bitterly comparing our output to that of our perceived competition, but that’s entirely optional. In reality, it’s okay if other people are better in various ways. There’s still room for everyone.

Here I am writing a daily blog, publishing my ideas about learning and growth and risking being a Richard every day. In doing so, am I suggesting that I have the secret of life and everyone should listen to me? No. If I felt a responsibility to teach and inspire you with every article, I’d be too intimidated. In order to not feel weird about doing this work, I have reframed this for myself. Rather than appointing myself as some kind of influencer, I begin with the belief that all of us have valuable insights to offer, and any of us can choose to share them. Thus, in my blog articles, I’m simply giving you my perspective, which you can take or leave.

Viewing the work this way is liberating. I don’t have to earn the right to say what I think; I don’t have to wait until I’m good enough to begin. As a matter of fact, the more I speak up, the better I get at doing it, so I might as well start where I am, with what I have. Feedback, repetition, and iteration will help me improve once I’m underway.

I’m not writing about self-development because I’m a supremely actualized person who has it all figured out. In fact, this work is actually part of my own self-development practice. As I share my thoughts and beliefs, I gain confidence and momentum. My writing is a key element of my process for figuring stuff out. Hopefully, along the way, I am tapping into key truths that will resonate with you, but that is more the outcome than the goal.

Why am I telling you all this? Why do I write to you every day? Not because what I have to say is so important or that I think you need to hear it. It’s because I think making things is important, and I’m committed to the practice of making things—and thus, setting an example by being a person who makes things. If you like what I’ve made today, that’s great. If it makes you want to make your own thing, even better.