Get The Work Out.

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“You can’t choose what stays and what fades away.” — Florence Welch

I wrote a thing for BuzzFeed this week about Gmail. I thought it would be a pretty good post — no “What’s The Cheapest, Classiest Way To Get Drunk,” but a good post.

And then it ended up being the biggest post I’ve ever written.

I had no idea. I don’t think anybody had any inkling that it would turn out that way.

We don’t really know what’s going to stick and what won’t. You just put the work out into the world, make it easy to share, and see what happens next.

The Fire.

fullbright

“There’s a fire burning deep inside / And it’s as mad as it’s mean / It’s hungry as it’s lean / And it’s as fleeting as a dream.” — John Fullbright

 
Two separate things that happened this week:

The first: A colleague at BuzzFeed died. His name was Michael Hastings, and I never met him. But when you read about him — and you really should — the thing that comes across is a certain fire for his reporting. People at my office described him as passionate, as forceful, as energetic. What a wonderful thing to bring to your work.

The second: I saw a guy play in concert on Thursday. His name is John Fullbright, and he’s a hugely talented songwriter from Oklahoma. Watching him live, he sang with that same passion. He threw himself at the microphone. He sang loud, and played hard. He’s a guy who actually appears to work on stage — he sweats and screams and aches through his music. What a wonderful thing.

It’s an amazing thing to see people doing work they really care about and believe in. The passion comes through. The fire comes through.

I feel lucky to have witnessed glimpses of it this week. That’s what we’re all shooting for, isn’t it?

After The Frustration.

“Innovation happens at the crossroads of frustration with the present and blind optimism about the future.” — Aaron Levie

 
A lot of really great stuff can come from being mad at where you are. You’re pissed about your job or your friends or your place in the world, and you do something bold. That’s where a project like Stry.us came from.

But frustration is just a little bit of fuel. It might jump start you, but it won’t keep you going.

What keeps you going are boring things: Routine, effort, persistence, teamwork. The frustration convinces you to start the work, but the structure lets you do the work every day.

It’s boring stuff, yes, but it’s also what actually makes great work happen.

That image at top comes via.

Stop Talking About The Future. Start Working Today.

“You have to learn to be bad at something before you can learn to be good at something.” — John Oliver

 
If I hear one more talk about the future of my industry, I’m gonna be sick.

The future. Goodness, what the hell do we know about the future?

We have no clue what happens next. None. We are consistently, ridiculously wrong when it comes to predicting the future. We are just bad at it.

Here’s what I’m interested in:

What are we doing now?

What tools are we working with now?

What are we trying to accomplish now?

We shouldn’t stop trying to make our world better, but we have to start now. We know what people are doing now, and how people are reacting now. That’s where we should start.

But we get lost in talking about what’s next.

We are constantly trying to sift through all that’s happening now to predict what’s coming next. That’s where we get lost — trying to follow the thread a little too far into the future. We want to write the story as it’s happening. We all want to feel like we’re a step ahead.

But forget about the future for a second. We chase it too often. We follow it to dead ends.

All we can do is put our work in right now and see where it takes us.

The work leads us to the story, not the other way around. Go do the work. Go ask your colleagues what they’re working on, and try to learn from it.

Just remember: Some predict the future; others make it.

Nancy and Julie.

When I look back on the women who’ve had the most impact on my life, I don’t look to teachers. I don’t look to historical figures.

I look to my mother and her friends. I look most of all to Julie, and I look to Nancy.

About five years ago, Julie died. Cancer.

Last week, Nancy died. Cancer.

And I am at a loss for words — again.

But if there’s something I should say about these two women — these two amazing women, these two women I am so blessed to have had in my life — I say these two things:

Julie and Nancy laughed as hard as any people I’ve ever met.

Julie and Nancy always made you understand that they loved you, and that they put you first.

Laughter and love. Those are two of the most wonderful things in the world, and I know it because of them.

I miss you, Julie, and I’ll miss you, Nancy. Thanks for teaching me so much about this world. I won’t forget it.

Go For It.

“He does shit.” — Bruce Arena, on Clint Dempsey

There’s a guy on the U.S. National Team named Clint Dempsey. As of Sunday, he’s the second-leading scorer in the history of American men’s soccer.

What makes Dempsey so special? It’s a combination of things. He’s got incredible ball skills. He plays with the sort of passion that only great athletes seem to know how to tap into.

And then there’s this third thing, that Grant Wahl of SI quoted so accurately this week: “He does shit.”

Lots of players are technically skilled, but Dempsey has a rare knack for making things happen. He tries shots that no one else will try, and that’s where some of his most impressive goals come from. Call it verve, call it chutzpah, call it brass balls — whatever it is, Dempsey has it. Where other players shy away, Dempsey goes for goal.

Dempsey’s only scored 35 goals in his National Team career [1. In 96 games.], so it’s not like he’s a superhuman goal scorer. But his combination of skill, passion and courage make him an exceptional soccer player.

We should all have that passion, that drive to take big chances.

This week, take a shot you wouldn’t take. Be bold.

Say It Now.

“Cause this is what you’ve waited for.” — Glen Hansard

When I was a kid, I was really shy about approaching people. An interview with a source, or just saying hello — I was always slow to make a move.

And at some point, I just got tired of dawdling. Waiting was exhausting.

I learned:

If there’s a goal that matters to you, starting talking about it now.

If there’s someone who matters to you, go tell them now.

If there’s work that matters to you, start doing something about it now.

Waiting doesn’t do anything for you. Get going, and start now.

You Are Not A Phony.

“It’s all going to be okay.” — Rick Webb

 
There is a certain point in your life when you realize that you don’t know anything.

Up until that point, you thought you knew what was up. You thought you’d experienced heartbreak. You thought you’d experienced pain.

And then comes this big breakthrough, and you realize, you don’t know jack. You’re just starting your life, and you’re starting from zero, and everyone else seems to know more than you do.

You feel like a fraud, and a phony. You feel like you don’t have anything to offer this world.

And there’s that expression you’ve heard: Fake it ’til you make it. That’s almost true.

Because there’s a second realization that comes a little later: Nobody else knows anything, either.

Everyone, turns out, is kinda faking it. Nobody is just born an astrophysicist or a banker. (And nobody is born or a social media expert.) We mold ourselves into these people. We see what others are doing, we think about what we like to do, and we make ourselves into the people we want to be.

But we are all just making this up — and figuring this out — as we go along. All of us.

And once you realize that, you don’t feel like a phony. You don’t know anything, but hell, neither does anybody else. We’re all just trying to make it work in this world.

So just do good work and surround yourself with good people, and you’ll be okay. It’s normal to feel like you don’t know anything.

We all feel that way, and we’re all in this thing together.

One Day, You Will.


 
One day, you will. You’ll wake up and wonder where all that time went.

When you’re a kid, time passes so slowly. The minutes stretch on for days. A school week feels like ages. Friday never comes.

But one day, you’ll grow up and leave the house, and time will move into another gear. You’re young and you’ve got all the time ahead of you, and then, suddenly, you won’t. You’ll hit 25, and 30 will start staring at you, and then it’ll all move even faster. 30 will come, and then 40. Spouses and kids and jobs and time. So many commitments, and never enough time.

And one day, you’ll wake up and feel old. Old! You won’t know where the feeling came from, or how it got there, but you’ll feel it. And when you say you feel old, what you’re really saying is: I think I’ve missed my shot. I think I missed my chance to do something amazing in this world. I think it’s passed me by.

What you’re really saying is: What the hell have I been doing with myself? Is this all I have to show for this life?

You will.

Or…. you can make a choice. You can choose to fight for a career you love. You can choose the roads you’ll go down, and choose to accept whatever comes next — the failures, the successes, the everything.

You can choose to take risks. You can choose to do the things you want to do, and to write the rules you want to write, and to do whatever the hell you really feel like. You can choose to listen, and to love, and to give, and to do awesome work.

You can choose a big adventure. You can choose a life that’s weird, and scary, and all your own. You can choose that. It’s not the safest path, but you can choose to go your own way.

Or not. It’s entirely your move.

That photo of the unknown trail comes via.

Write It Down.

A year ago this week, my team at Stry.us launched our Springfield bureau. It was an amazing summer, and I can’t believe it’s been a year.

I am thankful for my team, and for our friends and partners in Springfield, and for everyone who helped us make that project go.

But I’m also incredibly thankful for all the notes I took that summer. I’ve been looking back at what I was writing about at the time — all those thoughts and fears and hopes and worries — and I’m so glad I have them. The Springfield bureau was a massive leap for me — professionally, personally and financially. I’m so glad I have a record of where I was a year ago.

I urge you: When you’re working on something new, take some time every night to write down what you’re thinking. Take notes. Document how you feel. Keep a journal.

The best way to discover how much you’e grown is to look back every once in a while from where you’ve come.

———

That photo of downtown Springfield was taken by me.