It’s Good to Feel Small.

A photo of the muddy Colorado River, running beneath the red rocks near Moab, Utah.

We’re in Moab, visiting Arches National Park, and I found myself along the banks of the Colorado River this afternoon, looking up at these beautiful red cliffs hundreds of feet above us. It made me feel small.

With what I do, it’s easy to feel like every decision I make is big. A choice to take on a new client feels big. A talk on stage at a conference feels big. To expand the team or expand into a new line of business? Very big.

But I know I work in a niche specialty in a tiny corner of the internet. What I do matters to me, and I’m lucky that it matters to others, too. But what’s big to me is — with the right perspective, stepping back and looking up at the world around me — quite small.

It’s humbling to be reminded of my place in the world. I also found it, oddly, a bit empowering. If what I do is small, then shouldn’t my efforts to make an impact on the world be equally small? I don’t need to do something tomorrow that changes the world. I need to find ways to help others, one person at a time, over and over again. My goal should be to do small, impactful things that help in my community, knowing that those little actions will add up to something big.

At least within my little corner of the world.

———

I took that photo, today, alongside the Colorado River near Moab, Utah.

Be Ready For Anything.

There was a wonderful story a few weeks ago about a trumpet player, Dr. Jesse McGuire, and something unusual that happened during the playing of a national anthem at a baseball game.

He was playing “The Star-Spangled Banner” when, suddenly, one of the valves of his trumpet froze. In that moment, he decided to put down the trumpet and sing the rest of the anthem.

Dr. McGuire’s played the anthem at sporting events around the country. He played the anthem before Game 7 of the 2001 World Series. (He was invited back to Phoenix as part of the 25th anniversary celebration of the Arizona Diamondbacks victory in that game.) He’s played in bands and in the jazz orchestra at Lincoln Center.

And something like that can still happen to someone with that much experience. It’s his experience that helped him get through that moment.

Things happen to all of us, and when they do, it’s up to you to be prepared to do something about it.

You Have to Make Time For You.

A woman does a push-up on a green soccer field.

There was a stretch of a few years where, every night, I did 10 push-ups before bed.

10 doesn’t seem like a lot. Actually, to rephrase: It isn’t a lot! It takes less than a minute to complete.

I started doing those nightly push-ups as a way to remind myself that every day, even if I was busy, I could do something small to take care of myself. And yet: I still managed to fall out of the habit of doing it.

What I’ve learned is that it takes a really long time to build a habit, and not all that long to break the habit. That’s been true for anything I’ve wanted to do, from reading more to learning a language.

It’s easy to start, and it’s easy to quit.

It’s hard to keep going.

There’s always another priority: Work, family, a thousand little errands. Something else ends up higher on the to-do list.

But I have to remind myself — and I’m writing this at the moment to remind myself — that it’s OK to make time for yourself. We all have to.

So if you’ll excuse me: I’m off to go to a few push-ups before bed.

———

That is a photo of someone doing a push-up with form I really need to study. It was taken by Monika Kab for Unsplash.

Imperfect, Then Done.

The new Inbox Collective website went live the other day. We’d been working with the amazing team at CamelCase for months on this, and to be honest, the day the website went live, it wasn’t really done. There were things to fix, content to add, entire pages still to build. The site’s been live for a few weeks, and we’ll be adding more to it for weeks to come.

So why launch the website when it wasn’t fully done?

Because I know myself, and I knew that if I waited until everything was perfect, I’d be waiting forever to launch. But the sooner the website was out in the world, the more pressure there was on me to start making it better right away. It’s one thing to tinker and tweak in the background, and it’s another to do it when my entire audience can see the holes in the website that need to get fixed right away.

On a project like this, it’s not the deadline that drives me — it’s that little bit of public pressure and scrutiny.

Plus: Readers can help spot some of the mistakes for us! Just today, a reader noticed an issue on our About Us page. (The same contributing writer was listed not once — but four times.) It happens, but those extra sets of eyes mean that we can catch mistakes a bit faster.

(Btw, the CamelCase guys did a fantastic job. Any mistakes or flaws with the website are on me — they did everything they needed to in order to make this new site a success!)

No Need to Rush.

I went to see Alabama Shakes last night in Salt Lake City, and just after the gates were supposed to open, a massive thunderstorm came through town. We all had to shelter in place. The opener didn’t come on until 9, Alabama Shakes went on at 9:45, and most concerts at this venue are over by 10.

I wasn’t sure how long they’d actually play. I thought they might rush through a few of their hits and get off stage quickly.

But they weren’t in any real rush on stage. They played their songs, had a few jams. There was a little banter with the crowd. The set was shorter than usual — they played for an hour, and most of their sets on this tour have been far longer than that. They didn’t play an encore.

But I was so impressed at how unhurried they were on stage. They’ve played plenty of outdoor shows over the years, and clearly, they’d been in this situation before. Aside from the shorter set, you wouldn’t have known they were walking onto the stage way later than expected, and with a curfew to meet. They played like they had all the time in the world.

I’ve been in that situation before at conferences, where an hour-long talk suddenly becomes a 40-minute session, and I wish I could say I’ve been that calm. In those situations, my strategy‘s been to talk at 2x/speed, which doesn’t really work.

But maybe the move is just to acknowledge the situation, cut some material live on stage, and move on as normal. No need to rush — you do what you can with the time you have.

Let’s call it the “What Would Brittany Howard Do?” strategy.

———

I took that photo at Red Butte Gardens last night.

Stay Curious.

Chris Miquel had me on his podcast the other day, and he asked me: There’s so much that the newsletter community is excited (and nervous!) about when it comes to AI — but is there one thing you think we shouldn’t hand over to AI?

And I thought for a moment. Probably seemed like longer on the podcast.

And then I said: Our curiosity.

AI can handle so many things: It can write, edit, create, brainstorm. It can analyze data. It can turn tedious processes into one-click actions.

But I hope that as we integrate AI into our lives, we don’t lose that sense of curiosity. So many of the best things that have happened in the newsletter space — and in the world, of course — have come because of our curiosity.

What happens if I try ______ ? What happens if I experiment with ______ ? What happens if I ask my readers to do ______ ?

Nearly every week, a client asks me something I’ve never been asked before, and that I’ve never seen before, and I say: “I’m not sure, but let’s try it and see what happens.”

These tools are endlessly powerful, but I don’t think they can see the world quite the way we can. Use them — but stay curious.

The curious are the ones who break through.

Predicting the Future is Hard.

the ESPN article that predicted the future team.

Here’s a little reminder that humans are really, really bad at predicting the medium- to long-term future.

A friend sent me a list of soccer players who might play for the US men’s national team in the 2030 World Cup. It was exciting — look at all these future stars who’ll sure guide the USA to greatness!

And I was a true bummer and sent back ESPN’s predictions from 2022 for the 2026 roster. That list mentioned 31 names for new players who might make the team — players who weren’t on the 2022 squad.

Exactly one 1 out of 31 made the 2026 squad.

And look, that’s soccer. That’s a list that looked at players, all who were playing professional soccer at the time, some for major clubs in Europe, and saying, “Hey, I bet these guys will be even better in four years.” We’re talking about something that should be decently predictable.

And it got 1 out of 31 right.

I’m not trying to pick on the writer from ESPN. (He’s excellent, and a fellow Mizzou grad to boot!) Predicting the future is really, really hard.

It’s a reminder: Don’t get too caught up with what’s happening way down the road. Focus on the immediate future: Next week, next month, next quarter. Keep your eyes on the next steps and you’ve got a better chance to keep moving forward.

You’ll Figure It Out.

There’s a great story Stephen Colbert told this week about his early days in comedy. Here, I’ll let him take this part:

“I understudied Steve Carell one week at Second City. He was about a year ahead of me at Second City and I had to understudy him, but to do so they said, ‘Well, he plays the euphonium and the baritone horn in the show.’ I said, ‘I don’t know how to play that.’ And they said, ‘You have 6 days. If you don’t do it, Scott Adsit will do it.’ And I said, ‘No, I’ll figure it out.’ So, they wouldn’t rent me one. I had to spend my own money to rent a euphonium and a baritone. Carell wrote out the fingering for it, taught me an embouchure, and I did nothing else for the next 6 days except [learn to play]… I was so obsessed with getting it right because I had to be employed. I needed the job so desperately.”

There are a few things I absolutely love about the story, but it’s that last line that really got me. He was working at Second City, and it was such a competitive place that he couldn’t get passed by. So he was willing to do anything — including learning how to play a horn instrument in six days — to make it work.

And the fun part of the story, of course, is that he figured it out.

It’s a nice lesson: If Stephen Colbert can learn the euphonium in six days, you can figure new things out, too.

Adapt As You Go.

A Southwest flight taxies in the background as I work on slides at Salt Lake International Airport.

A little win: It’s May 14th, and today’s my first work trip of the entire year.

When I started my business, I traveled a ton for work. In 2019, I gave talks on four continents. It felt like I lived at JFK.

All those talks were really important as I was building the business — they brought in a lot of new clients. But over the years, my priorities changed. The business is stable. I’m booked with client work. And most importantly: I love living where I live and spending time with my family.

I decided last year: If I’m going to get on a plane, it better be for something really good.

Saying no to some other opportunities means I can say yes to the stuff I really want to make time for.

———

A Southwest flight taxies in the background as I work on slides at Salt Lake International Airport.

Try On Lots of Hats.

I can’t tell you why, but when I was 18, I decided I wanted to be the kind of guy who wore a Kangol hat.

I wore it for a few months, very much as an experiment. I was a kid trying to figure who I was and how to build a sense of style that felt true to me.

It’s been almost 20 years, so I can say, with absolute confidence now: I was definitely not a Kangol hat kind of guy. But there’s still a little bit of that sense of experimentation in everything I do.

I try on new hats, more figuratively than literally, all the time. What would it look like for me to start a business? To move to a new city? To become a dad?

Lots of what I try to do every year is test out new stuff and see how it feels. Is this for me? Does it feel true to who I am?

I keep trying on new hats, always with the hope that I might find something great. Sometimes, I do. Sometimes, I end up looking back with embarrassment on the things I’ve tried.

You just have to keep trying anyway.

———

Yeah, that’s me at 18 in a backwards Kangol hat. You live, you learn.