I’m Dan Oshinsky, and I run Inbox Collective, an email consultancy. I'm here to share what I've learned about doing great work and building amazing teams.
I ask myself this a few times a quarter when projects start to pile up: I’ve got a lots of things to tackle. Where should I start?
And the truth is: You can start anywhere — as long as you start.
I know I can find myself paralyzed by all those choices. Instead of getting stuff done, I end up worrying about all the stuff I have to get done. (And then I find myself with a lot less time to actually do the things I need to do!)
Don’t worry about finding the perfect starting place. The end result is far more important than where you start.
Start somewhere, and go from there.
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That’s a photo of an American Airlines jet taking off, with pink flowers blurred in the foreground and the moon behind. It was taken by Sachin Amjhad for Unsplash.
I read this line in a New Yorker article, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since: “They never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity.”
There have been so many times when I’ve showed up for something without knowing exactly what I might get out it. I didn’t want to miss out on something, even if I wasn’t sure what it was! When you show up, you don’t always stumble into something good — but sometimes, you do. (Case in point: My MLK Day story.)
Point is: There are certain opportunities that only come along when you take the time to show up. Don’t miss the opportunity to miss an opportunity. Just show up and see what presents itself.
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That’s a photo of a departures board with flights from Singapore’s airport to destinations around Asia. It seemed as appropriate a photo for the “show up” message as any. It was taken by Benjamin Wong for Unsplash.
It’s been a busy week. We went to a wedding last weekend and are going to another in 48 hours. I’ve got some new clients starting this month, a few talks coming up, and generally just a lot of work happening. It’s a ton for a small business like mine — and of course, having a 1-year-old at home adds a whole lot to your plate.
So I really could’ve done without coming home on Sunday night to find that the garage door opener wasn’t working. it was just one thing too much for me to handle — the classic straw that broke the camel’s back.
I got myself twisted in knots for a few minutes about the garage door opener. I procrastinated for a day and got myself more angry about it. Really? Now this? And then I stopped spinning my wheels and decided to fix just the one thing.
I went to YouTube (bless you, YouTube), and found a tutorial. Two minutes later, I’d fixed the garage door. (Turns out it was a super simple fix. I literally just had to push a button.)
I still have a mountain of work to do. But just getting that one tiny task completed felt like a victory. I did this one thing — I can do the rest.
I didn’t need to do it all. I just needed to take care of that one thing.
One funny thing about becoming a dad is watching how kids start to process the world. What I’ve noticed is that nobody — not even professional reporters — ask as many questions as little kids.
It’s one thing for a parent to get the initial question: “Why’s the sky blue, dad?”
The parent will give the answer. But then they’ll ask a second question: “Why?” And then a third or a fourth why.
It’s funny: In a certain way, kids are often more curious than a lot of the working professionals I know. I’m guilty of this myself: I might ask “why” once to a colleague or client, but if a satisfactory answer is provided, I won’t dig deeper.
And I want to challenge myself to be prepared for that second why. I want to be prepared to know more, to go deeper.
If I’m asked or if I’m not, I should be prepared to defend what I know — or at least be prepared to give more than the surface-level answer.
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That’s a photo of a young girl with brown hair reading, as the pages of a book flip before her. It was taken by Johnny McClung for Unsplash.
I’ve been keeping a daily journal for well over a decade now. Every night, I write a little note to myself about what I did that day or what I learned. Often, I’ll go back and look through old entries to remind myself of the progress that I’ve made or the things I’ve done.
But what I didn’t expect about parenting is that my phone’s photo album would be just as powerful of a reminder tool.
I’ll often look back through the archives to see what photos I took a year ago on this date. With a one-year-old, the photos are astonishing — could our son really have been that small a year ago? That bald? Remember that outfit? He used to fit into it all the time! Remember that trip we took? Yeah, that was a year ago today, too.
The time really does go by as quickly as everyone says, and it’s by grounding yourself in these moments from the past that you can appreciate the progress. I know a year from now, I’ll be amazed at the things my son is doing that he couldn’t in the fall of 2024.
Make time to pause and to rewind. We all need those moments to show us how far we’ve come.
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That’s a screenshot of my phone’s photo album. A funny thing happens when you have a kid: You replace lots of photos of food and trips with literally thousands of photos of your kid.
I played golf over the weekend at a par 3 course near me. Most par 3 courses are what’s known as a “pitch-and-putt” — you rarely have a shot longer than 100 yards, so each hole involves a fairly short shot and then a putt or two.
This is not that kind of course.
This is a par 3 course that involves shots over long stretches of desert bush and water. The greens are devilishly sloped, and you sometimes have to hit the ball close to 200 yards just to land on the green.
It’s truly not an easy course. I usually shoot a better score on a full-length golf course than I do on this par 3 course.
But one thing I love about it is that it inspires me to try shots I wouldn’t otherwise try. The other day, I ended up literally between a rock and a hard place — there was a boulder 20 feet in front of my ball, with the hole maybe 10 feet beyond that. At first glance, I had no chance to get my chip shot anywhere near the hole.
But then I took another look around the green. Behind the hole was a huge slope that, if I could land my ball on it, would feed the ball back to the hole.
So instead of playing my shot at the hole, I aimed 25 feet past it. My ball landed on the slope and trickled backwards. Maybe 10 seconds later, it stopped less than a foot from the hole.
It’s not a shot I would’ve tried on any normal golf course, but on this one, it made perfect sense.
And I’ll say: It reminded me that sometimes, you need to use your imagination to figure out the right answer. Solutions aren’t always as straightforward as they could be. So look around for alternative paths, even ones that seem a little ridiculous. There are options out there — some good, some bad, some risky — if you know where to look.
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That’s a photo of one hole on the course, which features what’s known as a Biarritz green — basically, imagine a giant halfpipe in the middle of the green. Depending on where the hole is that day, you may need to putt either up or down a slope that’s about five feet high.
Last night, we went down to Sundance to see a few singer-songwriters from Nashville — Trannie Anderson, Josh Jenkins, and Matt Jenkins — perform on stage as part of a series of concerts with Nashville’s famed Bluebird Cafe. Together, the three of them have written songs played by some of the biggest artists in country music: Lainey Wilson, Walker Hayes, Keith Urban.
But as they told stories about their work, one thing came up over and over again: It takes an awful lot of writing songs just to get one song on an album. The Jenkins brothers told a story about writing a song for an artist, who passed on it — before deciding to record it several years later. Anderson told a story about working a job as a dog walker for a famous country musician who ended up recording one of her songs almost a decade later. All of the artists on stage said that they might have to write a 100 or more songs just get one that’s worthy of being recorded. (And there’s still no guarantee that the song will end up on an album!)
Sure, there are overnight success stories out there, but to me, the night was a reminder that it usually takes a lot of work, a lot of patience, and a lot of rejection to get to where you want to go.
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I took that photo during the show. The stage at Sundance is absolutely spectacular — it’s built into the hill, with just a little backlight against the dark night sky. If you get a chance to go there for a concert, you should.
“Everything was about trust. He would rather lose your business than your trust.”
There are things that are more important than making a profit (though Costco certainly does that). I think about this a lot with Inbox Collective — what matters most to me? For my work, it’s about:
• Being willing to listen to readers and serve them. • Teaching first, and selling second. • Making sure that everything I put out is something that people can learn from. • Helping people find joy in their work.
If I take care of my readers, I know the business will flourish in the long run. No matter how the business evolves, I know those core value will remain.
A few weeks ago, I published a thing on Inbox Collective — a conversation with Claire Zulkey about what she should do with her newsletter. We called it the first in a new series: “Ask a Newsletter Therapist.” It was a bit of a joke — I don’t do what therapists do, but sometimes, everyone needs a professional they can talk to about their problems.
This past week, I’ve had a few more conversations with folks for upcoming editions of the series. And what I tell everyone before the conversation is: I don’t have all the answers. I can’t guarantee that I’m going to suggest something that will help. But even if I don’t, I hope we’ll be able to talk through a few ideas that might get your wheels turning.
It’s great if I can fix something during these calls. But I’m not there just to fix something — I’m there to give these folks a chance to talk stuff out. From time to time, everyone needs someone to talk things through.
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At top, that’s a screenshot of the article I did with Claire.
My son is a year old, and lately, I’ve been turning down a ton of work opportunities — stuff I would’ve jumped at just two years ago — because I don’t want to miss a moment with him. There are all these projects and speaking gigs I would love to be able to do, but I’m still saying no. I want to be home and be present with my family.
I’ll confess that I do sometimes feel a sort of nostalgia for the pre-dad version of myself that could’ve taken on more of this work. Before kids, I could say yes to anything. (“A series of workshops with a newsroom in Australia that can only talk at 11 p.m. Eastern every week? Let’s do it!“) But for me, everything comes back to a simple thing: I really like my job, but I absolutely love my son and my wife. If I’ve got a choice between something I like and something I love, that’s an easy choice to make.
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That’s Ben and I, taking a break from a hectic weekend morning of playing with literally every toy in the basement so we can watch “Ms. Rachel” together.
