When you start a new project, excitement eclipses sacrifices.
But when things get serious, you must know what you’re in for.
Your dreams may be worth every sacrifice. But you better know why, before life has passed you by.
Most people don’t see why you’re taking time out of your busy day to sit down and write until the book you were working on every day lies in front of them.
They don’t see why you run every day and eat clean until you set a personal best at the next marathon.
They don’t see the new product you’re working on until it’s developed so far that it helps them achieve their goals.
You’re the only one who sees the method to your madness.
And that’s fine.
Because you probably don’t see the method to their madness either.
Admiring (flawed) early work is easy when we already know the late work is going to be great.
Everyone forgives Picasso or Da Vinci for a lousy early sketch. In fact, people pay good money to hang one in their living room.
Maybe the early work, showing that even the greats are mere mortals on a journey towards excellence, is the most valuable?
And yet, it’s much harder to be gentle on a beginning artist for shipping mediocre creative work – not in the least for the beginning artist themselves – when their path to excellence hasn’t unfolded yet.
After all, something that one day will be “my early work” is still “my current best work” today.
The road to excellence is invisible from the trenches.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
Which makes me wonder…
When I know that through persistence and daily practice, one day, I’ll look back on today’s creation, smiling, thinking: “Oh how far I’ve come… How much I’ve learned… And some of this was actually pretty good…”
Can I admire my creative work less for what it looks, feels, or sounds like, and more for who I’m becoming through making it?
Can I do the same for the creative projects of others?
With that mindset… How much easier and forgiving would the daily creative journey be?
We swerve. Sway.
We slay. Pray.
And on the road we stay.
Why do you love writing, despite the fact that the act of writing is often a drag?
Why do you love running, despite the fact that the act of going for a run is often a chore?
Why do you love learning languages, despite the fact that the act of practicing is often riddled with frustration?
Why do you love it so much?
And wouldn’t it feel good to remind yourself of that love every day… so you make sure the love is there to stay?
There’s nothing wrong with chasing quick wins, as long as you define them well.
Because the first quick wins are usually internal and invisible.
Only when you’ve won some battles against the inner critic who wants you to give up do the external quick wins kick in.
And that’s how it’s supposed to be.
As I gain more expertise in a certain field, I expect my posts on that topic to get shorter.
Because raw material starts with a lot of fluff, and only through sculpting away, day by day do I get closer to the essence.
So…
If my posts on a topic I’m familiar with are getting longer on average, I’m off-track.
If they become more abstract, I’m getting off-track.
In other words…
When I don’t yet have so much to say
I can’t stop talking
Until I sculpt away
Realize
Some words matter more than others
And what’s left is
Enough
