Try.

Enter.

Register.

Submit.

Launch.

Post.

Publish.

Show.

Get out of your head and get to the business of actually trying. And failing. Or succeeding.

It’s not a win or lose situation. It’s just win: you’ll be moving forward and learning no matter what the outcome.

But hiding? Snuffing out your ambition? Ignoring the beautiful spark of “what if ...”?

That’s not for you.

So what are you waiting for?

When a copywriter is soliciting new clients with a written message, it’s best if that text is perfect. Unquestionably perfect.

If there’s a grammatical error, that’s a red flag.

The same goes for many services. A pitch that demonstrates proficiency is critical.

The thing is, when people look at your work, they assume they’re looking at the best you can offer.

Make sure it is.

We can have both, but we’re not always good at managing “both” in ways that are effective.

I can lose weight and eat dessert every day.

I can finish reading this business book and dive into Facebook every night.

I can tidy the house and binge on Netflix every spare moment.

For each of these, it’s possible to have both, but the odds for success are not ideal.

More often, we’re faced with the question, “Which do I want more?” because we can’t reasonably have both.

Pulling off a last-minute, all-out, improvisational sprint is worthy of acknowledgement. Sometimes even applause.

But if pell-mell efforts are a habit — if procrastination, a lack of planning, or a lack of vision are the reason for the scramble — then the accomplishment is much less admirable.

“I’m sorry. The kitchen is really busy, and your meals are taking a little longer than usual. Would you like some more bread in the meantime?”

It’s not the way the server worded it. It’s not even the explanation. It certainly wasn’t the offer of more bread. It’s that the delay was acknowledged. That’s what mattered, and that’s what added additional runway to everyone’s patience.

* * *

Sometimes we’re late. Behind schedule somehow, or slower than expected.

The thing to do is not to hide. Not to go radio-silent. Not to pretend all is well.

The thing to do — the professional thing to do — is to speak to it. Communicate. Inform.

The person waiting (the restaurant patron, the friend at the airport, the customer at the mailbox) ... that person will know when you’re late. Better to say something when you anticipate the delay ... and ease the tension with a bit of courtesy.

It works.

What happens when we don’t get picked?

Usually, we feel bad about ourselves. We experience self-doubt. We second-guess our worth.

None of that is useful, of course.

What’s quite important, however, is what happens after we don’t get picked.

It’s that transition where we decide to do amazing work anyway.

The moment when we pick ourselves ... like we’ve done before, and like we’ll do again.

After all, our lives aren’t about getting picked; they’re about the art we create. The changes we seek to make. The passions that drive us.

Getting picked never played the lead role.

Are you doing the critical work? Or are you helping the people doing the critical work?

Either way, you have an important job to do.

But if you’re not in either group, maybe it’s time to reconsider what you're doing.

The town crier had one option: loud.

Technology has changed the way we can speak to large crowds — and not just crowds gathered together in a physical space. Crowds connected through the internet too.

What’s fascinating:

One, anyone can be a town crier. The microphone is there. The platform is there. No super-larynx required.

And two, loud isn’t the only option. In fact, one can whisper and still potentially be heard by millions.

But technology hasn’t changed one thing: you still need something of relevance to say.

“Yes, this is something we have to do.”

That’s great. You’ve identified a requirement.

But when? When does it need to be done?

In the next minute? Before you die?

My bet is that the answer is somewhere between those two moments in time.

Committing to when is nearly as important as identifying what needs to be done.

I was at the office late last night, and overheard the cleaning staff at work. The person with experience was speaking to a younger helper.

“No, that’s too much tea. They’re mostly coffee drinkers. Put these in.”

What was going on?

We have a single-serve brewer. In the cabinet, there are different types of coffees and teas, and on the counter there’s a rotating storage rack. What I discovered is that each night, the cleaning staff — without having been asked to do so — carefully and thoughtfully refills the display from the stores in the cabinet.

That extra dedication (when no one is looking) creates a tiny bit of magic in the morning ... as though the display replenishes itself overnight.

All of us can make magic like that in our spheres of influence. It doesn’t encourage laziness, and it doesn’t create entitlement. It just makes things a little easier for someone else. Call it generosity. Call it attention to detail. Today, I call it, “How Christie does her job” ... and it’s something to be appreciated.

In the car, I was listening to a song with a wide range of vocal levels. In order to hear the quietest parts, I had to increase the volume so that the loudest sections were uncomfortably loud. I was a little annoyed, but then I realized: this song wasn’t written to be enjoyed in a vehicle travelling at speed, with all the distractions of road noise and turn signals. This song was written for a more isolated, high-fidelity playback.

I’m certain that a good pair of headphones will give me the listening enjoyment I seek.

It got me thinking. How do we create moments of isolation where we can hear clearly? Where we can be present, and listen deeply?

A busy street corner is a challenging place to reconcile with a partner. A sporting event is a poor venue for listening to a teenage daughter’s challenges at school.

The worthwhile moments of isolation where we can connect — as though headphones have blocked out the ambient noise — those moments don’t always happen on their own. Sometimes, we have to create them.

Don’t seek recognition for every little thing you do.

Do good. Do it often … and so regularly that that it just becomes the way you do things. Not “you doing good”. Just, “you doing”.

Someone thanked me recently, and the words were sincere. The exchange filled my cup so much that my heart felt like it was going to burst.

Here’s the thing. That expression of gratitude was free. It cost the giver nothing, except a few generous words and some emotional labor.

For me? You couldn’t put a price on that gift.

Why don’t we give these types of gifts more often? The gift of thanks. The gift of heartfelt appreciation. The expression of gratitude.

Free for the giver. Invaluable for the recipient.

Some people try to maintain control (or the illusion of it) by dominating conversations. They speak in such a way that leaves little room for others to contribute.

These occasions are sometimes called “one-sided conversations” but it’s a bit of a misnomer.

The other side of the conversation happens indeed — in the mind of the stifled participant.

Opposite the incessant speaker is the listener’s internal monologue, and it’s firing away ... regardless of whether one can get a word in.

Sometimes we make a mistake that we can’t fix. We make an error. There’s an accident. We’re careless. Something happens, we’re at fault, and there’s no “undo”. This can happen in many ways, big and small.

How do we move forward? (“Forward” is an important word since going back in time — though quite desirable — is never an option.)

So, what to do?

One, we sincerely apologize … if that’s even an option. Two, we do whatever we can to not repeat the error. And three, we move forward in a way that’s worthy of someone who knows that mistakes happen, and who knows the awful sting of regret. To honestly lean into that third element means having a heart of forgiveness and understanding when we’re on the other side of the equation.

* * *

Post script: in thinking about this a bit more, it’s worth mentioning: forgiving yourself — the idea of self-compassion — that’s also an important step. That one might even be the most difficult.

In my experience, the least skilled contractors are most likely to point out what they’ve done right. They will take you through a project, identifying all the things that meet spec, and taking special note of details that are “above and beyond” expectations.

By contrast, the most skilled contractors — the professionals — they don’t do this. They masterfully craft details that may never be seen. They consistently apply their expertise to things that will be visible to the customer, as well as areas that are hidden. Their quality is through and through, and they don’t seek out special recognition. They do the job properly — all of it. Most of the time, there aren’t “special details” to point out because all the details are special.

The sun was beginning to set as I drove past some aging, metal outbuildings on a nearby farm. The buildings were not pretty. They were not charming. And yet ...

And yet the sun, as it can so marvelously do, transformed the landscape into a glorious painting. Those buildings had never looked so magical. For a fleeting moment, all the beauty they possessed was on display for the world.

The important point is that light changes things. Physical light, and metaphorical light. The right piece of understanding. The posture of empathy. The approach of curiosity. Just a bit of any of these has the power to change the world dramatically.

What do you do when the rescue crew doesn’t come? When you don’t wake up from the bad dream?

It happens more often than not. The magic fixer doesn’t show up out of the blue and make all your troubles disappear.

So what do you do?

You take a deep breath. You stand up, and you push forward. You advocate for yourself. You pick yourself. You save yourself.

You stop telling yourself the story that you’re a victim ... and you start telling yourself a better story. One where you’re a fighter. One where you’re resilient. One where you chart your own future, and it’s filled with beauty, generosity, and contentment. Not a future that’s given to you ... but a future that’s of your own design. The one you seek, and the one you make.

What’s in the way of your greatness?

Is there a novel in you? A painting? A new business? An academic pursuit? Something else?

Are you working toward it, each day? Half an hour? Maybe an hour?

Do you somehow find time for scrolling social media? Watching internet memes? Consuming whatever bit of news the home page provides?

It would be a shame to look back one day, and think, “I could have ... but I made time for the trivial things instead.”

A good excuse and an apology do nothing to help get a job done.

Doing the work. Committing to the task. Persevering. These things are what contribute to forward progress.

When faced with the options of “getting it done” and “having an excuse and an apology” … those are not equal, viable paths. Don’t try to convince yourself otherwise.