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On June 5th, I turned 30 and ye olde blog turned two.

Though two years is a relatively short period of time to have been doing this work, it also feels like an eternity. Upon hearing this, more travel-worn creatives will perhaps look at me like Derek Zoolander’s father did when, after a day of mining, Derek coughs delicately and says, “I think I’ve got the black lung, Pop.” His father replies, “You’ve been down in that mine for one day. Talk to me in thirty years!” 

I am learning that what has felt like a herculean effort (sometimes sisyphean, while we’re referencing Greek myths) is more like dipping my feet in the ocean. But above all, I know now that a learning mindset is crucial to longevity in this work. 

And so, in that spirit, here are the top three things I’ve learned in two years as a full-time professional creative. 

There is no secret. There is no hack. There is only the work. 

When I looked at successful creatives, the ones getting book deals and posting regularly for their 87 million followers and landing speaking gigs, I thought there was some secret they knew that I didn’t. And if I just discovered that secret, all of my problems would vanish. I thought there was a perfect system to create or a hack to learn that, once implemented, I would never have to touch again. 

In all of my wheel-spinning and bandwidth expending, I was taking time and energy away from the one thing that would actually help me make progress. The everyday, unglamorous work.

I didn’t realize that my frantic effort to find the perfect plan for guaranteed success was mostly procrastination from the work that was either boring or uncomfortable. It was a seemingly productive way to avoid the things that would actually help me build my business. 

A couple of tools that have helped with this mindset shift?

• The Full Focus Planner.
• Essentialism by Greg Mckeown.
• “The Lesson to Unlearn” by Paul Graham

This work takes time, and that is a gift. 

I entered into my current creative work with the naive assumption that the book idea that started this whole thing would be out in the world by now. L to the O to the L. In the earliest days, I worked with a few great editors (shout out to Tiffany Owens, Stephanie Nicolopolis, and Ashley Hong) who helped that version of Unsuitable translate into a manuscript proposal. I have, from day one, felt that the premise of the work to be deeply important and timely. I even believed I had the ability to be the one to do that work. The third leg of the stool, as they say in the publishing world, “platform,” has always been my biggest issue. 

I used to become irritated at the necessity of having an audience who will likely buy the book. But now, I appreciate the time that Unsuitable has had to marinate and shift. And the time I’ve had to improve as a writer and refine my ideas. In the upcoming quarter, I plan to revisit that same manuscript proposal with the expectation that it will continue to change throughout the process. And all of that time and shifting means that it will be the best it can possibly be for the sake of those it’s designed to help. That is a gift. 

Some words that have helped here:

• Liturgy of the Ordinary by Tish Harrison Warren.
• “The Anatomy of a Compelling Book Proposal” by Alex Field 

Self-sufficiency is a death-knell to creative work. 

Another coach of mine, Brian Dixon, says, “You can’t read your own label.” While there are things only we can do, we cannot and should not do everything. If you’re like me, it’s difficult to ask for help. I think this is true for many people, but for those of us who spend a significant amount of time alone (i.e. singles and creatives) it can get extra tricky. There is the issue of not having someone we feel entitled to ask for help, and the fear of being perceived as needy. 

But the fact is, whether we like it or not, we need other people. We need another perspective. We need help sharpening our ideas and our skills. It is risky and vulnerable, and we can take feedback with a grain of salt. But with those established, trust-filled relationships, the fruit of collaboration can be great. 

Some books that have been helpful here:

• The Very Good Gospel by Lisa Sharon Harper.
• Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott

Here’s to two years. And here’s to many more. Thanks for sticking around. While you’re here, leave a comment and let me know what you’ve learned in the past year.

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“Hey, not sure if you’d be interested, but I know someone looking for a freelance writer.” 

The text came on your typical Tuesday evening during which I was watching Netflix and questioning my choice to leave the relative comfort of the restaurant industry and write full time. I sat up, fully focused on the words on the screen. A contact had asked my friend in passing if she knew a freelance writer who might be interested in some work writing on recycling and renewable energy. 

I vacillated as I considered the question. It was a paying gig, but I didn’t know much about recycling and renewable energy. The familiar train of overly idealistic thought started up. Sure, I didn’t know much, but I could learn! Sure, this had nothing to do with my expertise and I’d have to do a ton of research to even begin to write on this topic, but it was a paid gig! As much as I felt the instinct to say no, I also felt the pull of what if? 

My friend and I went back and forth, and she ultimately left it up to me to reach out. 

If you’re a freelancer of any variety, whether a performer or writer or designer, you’ve likely come up against a similar situation. In my days of pursuing a singing career, there was the added pressure of accepting unpaid gigs. And in the opera world especially, gigs and programs for which I had to pay. It can seem like we must say yes to everything or we will miss out. We never know which opportunity might be the one that leads to more opportunities, or which one might be our big break. Especially in the early stages of our creative journey. Especially when work is particularly scant. 

How do we say no without experiencing the fear of missing out? How do we determine which opportunities are worth our time, and which will send us off in the wrong direction? Here are three practices to walk through when you feel that FOMO and self-doubt start to creep in.

Reflection

Thinking about the offer my friend presented, I needed to first determine if it was worth pursuing. In Essentialism by Greg McKeown, he lays out a strict criterion for when to say yes and when to say no. “It’s either HELL YES or it’s no.” By running through a series of questions that laid out the factors I needed to consider, I was able to gain clarity by using McKeown’s method. 

• Is it worth the time required and amount of pay I will receive?
• Am I the best person for the job? (don’t let this one trip you up if you’re prone to underestimating yourself)
• Will this opportunity continue to move me toward my goals?
• Is this a person I want to work with? 
• Does the topic excite me?
• Do I want to do it?
• Is it the best way to help me meet my financial goals?
• Do I feel energized when I think about this work? 
• If unpaid, is this a valuable experience that will teach me a skill I need (teamwork, collaboration, working on a deadline, etc)? If so, is that worth the cost (time, stress, loss of focus, bandwidth)?

Though I could easily say no to most of the questions, I still wanted to make sure my judgement wasn’t skewed by something I might not be able to see. Which brings us to the next practice. 

Connection

Mayhaps like me you have a tendency to overthink yourself into knots. If you’re a more established creative, mayhaps you have a team you can talk through this stuff with. Or, if you’re married, it’s the kind of thing you sort out with your spouse. 

For those of us who don’t meet either criteria, it’s still important to reach out and connect with someone who knows us and knows our goals. They can’t make the decision for us, but they can remind us of our values when we get tangled up in a decision without a clear right or wrong. In the current scenario, I was able to work through these murky thoughts with the friend who brought me the opportunity. 

Normally, I would run the opportunity by one of a set list of friends whom I have known for years and whose opinion I trust. They are familiar with my priorities and personality, and can see what I can’t about myself. They also resist the temptation to solve the problem or answer the question for me. They may give me advice and point me in a specific direction, but they mostly ask questions and let me verbally process, reminding me of what they know to be true about me and my work along the way. 

Currently, I’m part of a mastermind group, which gives me access to three coaches and twenty-six fellow writers who are all committed to their work. Connecting with my cohort has been a game changer, and working with coaches? They have helped me clarify my goals, expanded what I believed to be possible for my creative work, and pushed me in all the ways I needed pushing. It has not been comfortable, but four months in, I have no regrets. 

Do you have a few go-to people who can help you see more clearly and focus? What would it take for you to find people committed to your growth? 

Direction

At the end of the first quarter (March 31), I took the day to distill my goals into a value ladder. Before that, I had a nebulous sense of what I might like to do to increase my income and move toward my larger goals. But they were murky, so it was easy to get pulled off track. I didn’t have a clear picture of where I was going. I knew there was a book involved, but other options had crept into my imagination. 

So I took the time to develop a path, a series of products and services that stack up to the ultimate thing that will best serve my audience. Now, when an opportunity comes along, I feel more equipped and empowered to stay in my lane. The ladder might change over time, but for now, it’s a filter through which I can see with more confidence what fits onto it and what doesn’t. 

Do you have a clear sense of where you’d like to go? If not, take some time to sketch it out. I used this blog as a starting point, but it’s not the only one out there, and it’s designed for more general entrepreneurs, as opposed to specifically for artists/creatives. However, it’s a good jumping off point to help clarify your path and your next steps. 

So what about FOMO?

I never reached out to the contact. Though I felt the tug of all that I thought the income promised, I said no, not knowing if another opportunity would come my way or if that might have been my golden ticket. But I learned something through the process of saying no. 

The secret to not getting FOMO is that there is no secret. Any time there is an opportunity that presents us with a series of unknowns, the what if’s will creep in and make us second guess our instincts. And sometimes we will learn something later down the road that suggests that we made the wrong choice. 

Using a combination of these three practices-reflection, connection, direction- we can build resilience and confidence over time. They’ve helped me wade through the ambiguity of the creative life and develop a system for making decisions without as much wasting bandwidth on overthinking. They help me resist the temptation to chase every shiny thing that comes across my path. 

Maybe I’ll miss something, but I’ve noticed that a win/lose mindset doesn’t serve me well in this situation. One of my core values for my business is “Learning, not Losing.” It’s a riff on something my therapist says to me a lot. “There is no losing. There is only winning and learning.” There will be times when I don’t make the best decision. There will be times I’ll miss out and times I’ll over commit. But getting hung up on making the perfect decision every time and listening to the FOMO only ensures paralysis. Take the time to step back and reflect, connect, and direct your steps. And if we whiff it, we have the opportunity to learn and try again. 

If you’re having trouble with any of these practices, or sussing out which you might need to focus on, I offer one-on-one coaches. Check out more here and sign up for your free 15 minute intro call!

Dear single Christian creative, 

At least once a week, sitting alone in my office, I wonder why the eff anybody thought this writing thing was a good idea. I think, Who in their right mind would choose to do words for a living? 

Typically, I’ve written something truly brilliant that has not become an instant sensation. The indignation of my ego that demands to be recognized as the greatest mind of our generation rises up and the reel of nagging questions begins. 

What if I’ve gone all in on the creative life only to find that I am merely mediocre? What if I can’t do it?

Perhaps this doubt is what has brought you to this particular moment today. Or maybe you got your ninth rejection letter from your dream agent, or worse they didn’t deign to respond at all. You’ve arrived at a moment where the weariness of continuing to put one foot in front of the other is finally too much. And you wonder what would be so bad about moving anywhere cheaper and selling ad space in airports. 

Yes, that could actually work. Because you know that there truly is nothing wrong with moving or selling ads. You even imagine that it would lift a weight off your shoulders. And it just might appease the voice of self-doubt. 

Afterall, doubt speaks in the voice of people you respect. Maybe it’s right. 

In these fraught moments, I like to blame God for calling me to the creative life in the first place. I mean, it’s his fault the ideas form almost of their own volition and spill out onto the page as if having a will and life of their own. He’s the one who was all I want you to use your voice. 

Truthfully, I was the one who asked, and I was the one who said a begrudging “Alright, then.” But he’s the one who incepted the notion of pursuing the creative life into my soul. In these moments, I like to tell God what a big mistake he has made. Surely if this was his idea and I was good and obedient to the call, he owes me an immediate spot on the NYT bestseller list. Them’s the rules. 

You know what I’m talking about. You’ve made sacrifices. You’ve done scary things and been vulnerable. And the payoff for all that you’ve laid on the altar of creativity seems to have gotten lost in the mail. This is not what you signed up for. 

But even as you allow the resentful thoughts to bubble up, even as you think about turning around, you worry that God will be disappointed in you if you do. You hear that same voice, unbidden, drift into your head, the one that haunts you with its almighty proclamation of unsuitability, the one that has convinced you that if you give up on your call you will have failed your test and be sorted with the goats and the chaff. Everything you feared to be true about yourself will be confirmed and God will shake his head and go spend his time and energy on someone more worthy. 

It begins to occur to you that maybe the voice of self-doubt isn’t going anywhere. Whether you are in Manhattan or Akron, mayhaps that accusatory voice will follow you no matter where you go or what you do. 

An interesting thing happened when I was finally honest with God about this particular fear. It started with a story from my pastor. He talked about his own moment where he told God that he was done, that he didn’t want to do ministry any more. He was drawn to the story of Elijah, the one where he’s just done some of the most badass propheting and called down fire from heaven, defeating the prophets of Baal in an Old Testament showdown. He flees to the mountains and basically tells God, “I don’t want to do this anymore. I would rather die.” 

The pastor went on to describe that God responded by giving Elijah a nap and a snack. And when Elijah again said that he didn’t want to do the work anymore, God said that he didn’t have to. I don’t know what translation he got that from, but the idea stuck with me. It hit me at one of these moments where everything in my life felt like a burden. That idea shifted something in me, a truth that I’d lost along the way. 

We have a choice in this. 

The call I feel to write and create is not a demand. It is an invitation, one that I am free to ignore. I owe God everything, but he does not hold it over me. Jesus has already paid that price. If I were to never write another word as long as I live God would not love me any less. 

But I know that keeping all this creative energy pent up would eat me alive. I know what it was like to live with it inside of me, to be too afraid to speak and too doubtful of the need for the words to get out of me and into the world. I still feel that resistance when I sit down at my piano or with a blank page.

I know the self-doubt, the resistance is part of the job. I know it will always be there. But the doubt wants me to forget that I don’t have to listen to it. It wants me to think that I don’t have the audacity to believe that this voice is a gift that the world needs. It wants me to believe that I am powerless against it. 

It wants me to forget that the louder it gets, the closer I am to the good stuff.  

Perhaps if you are at a point when you want to walk away, that’s something to listen to and bring to God. Perhaps that’s a nudge from the Spirit that you need to take a break. Building endurance means learning to listen to that nudge. If you don’t, your body will listen for you.

And if it truly is time to walk away and do something else for an undetermined amount of time, maybe that’s ok. After almost ten years of classical training, I walked away from singing and I didn’t know if I would ever come back to it. I just couldn’t physically bring myself to do it anymore. I felt like a failure, and I listened to the accusation for a while. 

But the reason you are reading these words is because I took the time to walk away. And the creativity inside of me found a different outlet. Eventually, I wanted to sing again and I'm learning to love it again. But if I had powered through and kept pushing, I don’t know that I would have arrived here. 

If you need to walk away for a time, trust that the invitation will still be there when you’re ready to come back. You’ll still have the fear and the doubt and you’ll never truly be ready. You’ll still wrestle and want to give up. But maybe in your time away you’ll realize, like I did, that success and fulfillment in this creative work isn’t measured by a best-seller list or a Grammy or whatever. 

Success is completing the thing you started. And therein lies the secret to finding joy in the work again. I have the goal of publishing a book, and it is a good goal. But I cannot control when that will happen or how that book will be received. All I can do is be faithful to today’s small steps that will inch me closer to completing that good work. 

One of my favorite verses is in Isaiah, “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, there will be a voice behind you saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it’” (30:21, NIV).  The pressure you feel to do this work perfectly, the striving, the fear of not living up to the expectations? That’s not from God. 

You are free to walk away if the pressure has become too great. And you’re free to stay. Whatever you choose, God will not walk away from you. 

All the best, 

Marebs