I was just writing to Meghan last night that I really love that we have started this podcast now, when we’re in the middle of our first real creative projects. It means that we have a chance to document and share the micro-lessons that we are learning. Most importantly, we can keep them for ourselves for next time. Whatever happens to our current books, we have so many ideas, and so we can come back to this blog and our podcast (especially our pep talks) and remind ourselves what we’ve already learned.
This week, I’ve been learning a micro-lesson about asking for help. This is something I can use in all areas of my life, something I should remember better than I do, and more often. I always find it hard, but it is harder for me about writing because it is something I do for myself, not for my job or family or other people.
So it seems like a scary thing to prioritize, and something I don’t have much confidence about. Some tiny voices in me say things like this:
What if this is just a stupid pile of poop that I am writing? Why should I ask for time or help with it?
It’s not my real job, so why should I prioritize it? It’s never going to turn into anything?
And so on. I’m sure some of you have a similar helpful voice in your head.
And then it’s like I’m wrestling this whole novel by myself, and all my ideas, and as soon as I shut the Word document, I only remember how much work there is left, and everything is terrible (as we like to say on the online radio show).
A couple weekends ago, I went to a yin/relaxation yoga workshop (led by our former guest in Ep14 Divya Kohli, who has such a gift and I especially love her yin/relaxation workshops) with two of my best London friends. We had such a wonderful time on and off the mat together, exploring Budapest and talking for three days. Since then I’ve just felt so much more open and grounded on one hand, but also have been facing and allowing myself to feel the things that are difficult.
That’s a tough combination, though – you’re open to and suddenly hearing and feeling the scary voices, and not just saying, “Shhhh…. I’ll deal with you later” (which is actually a way of saying to them, “Keep talking!”).
So I started asking for help. A couple examples:
First, I talked to my boss and said I needed to take more time away, at least writing in the morning, even if I am working in the afternoons. I’m potentially going for promotion later this year, so I was planning to have this talk after that was successful, but instead I thought I’d bring it up now, so I wouldn’t be telling myself for months that it may not be possible to get. Guess what? He was fine – basically, if I can arrange my schedule and make sure all the projects are covered, he is happy for me to do that. I am lucky because I lead a team, so I can sort of flex things to fit around me, but I’m also in consulting, and clients can be demanding. But I got the theoretical “okay,” and I feel a lot better. And it’s because I asked for help.
Second, I sent Meghan a panicky voice message about how I should probably quit my book and so on, and she is fantastic, so she sent me a voice message back with lots of encouragement. It was such a great exchange that we are going to turn that into a little pep talk for you guys, although originally it was just our normal conversation.
Third, I wrote my writing mentor and asked her, “I need to know if I should continue with this book. It is probably weird for me to ask you this, and you’ll probably say only I can decide, but I haven’t done this before and I don’t have anyone else to ask and you just read it.” That’s not an actual copy of what I wrote her, but it’s close. And I think, by writing it, I already knew the answer, but it was so important for me to share that HUGE QUESTION with someone else, and ask them to help me with it. And she did (she said I should continue).
So, guys, and Future Me: don’t wrestle monsters by yourself. Call your friends. Ask your boss (if it’s possible). Ask someone else the questions that feel like they are eating you in the middle of the night.
