I am waiting for Vicini!

After I hit publish on the last two posts, I fretted.  I worried that they weren’t dynamic or groundbreaking or clever enough.

On one hand, the fretting is all me.  It’s one of my favorite pastimes, and I am really good at it.  On the other hand, the fretting speaks to a deeper issue—a truth—that’s important to mention.

I dove back into the blogsphere because a good friend of mine in the self-help/professional development world encouraged me to do so.  She thought I had a lot to say about “getting real” in the personal and professional realms that people needed to hear.  That felt good, and I was excited about the prospect that my words could help people.  When it came down to sitting in front of my keyboard, however, I froze.

I mean, I couldn’t write just anything.  People were counting on me!  I needed to be brilliant!  And cool!  No one would notice, much less care, otherwise.

Wait a minute…that didn’t make sense, either.

A very dear friend of mine told me something about Paul McCartney and the way he works.  Apparently, he sits down at the piano for three hours nearly every day.  He plunks and he plays, and, according to him, very little of it feels inspired.  Very little of it evolves into a hit song.

That story popped into my head again, and it gave rise to a thought: what if it was okay to just keep it simple?  What if it was okay to NOT be brilliant in this moment?  What if it was okay to give what I have right now…to keep it simple and basic, and just put something—anything—down?

Thus, the post “Confessions of a ‘Go for It' Guy” was born.  After I read the thing, I…well…you know.  But later I realized that by allowing myself to be where I was, not beat myself up for it, and then take a step forward anyway was a pretty brilliant stroke.

For one, it meant that I wrote something.  When you’re a writer, this is a pretty big deal.  It’s the “you can’t win if you don’t play” thing.  Any words on paper means there’s a chance you might hit pay dirt.  No words on paper means a zero percent chance that’s going to happen.

For another thing, I realized that most basic concerns in my life, like how I stay on task to achieve my aspirations or how I deal with anger, might be the same things that vex other people, too.  Suddenly, worrying about being dynamic and groundbreaking and clever felt kind of selfish.  Meeting myself at the intersection of energized and nervous, being honest with myself, and walking forward despite my urge to run away…all of a sudden felt pretty dynamic.  And groundbreaking.  And maybe even clever.

It definitely felt real.  And helpful.  That made all the difference and relaxed my furrowed brow.