Hello,
(Note: There’s a free book available today only mentioned later in this email. Click here to grab it now.)
It’s been an interesting and heartbreaking week, and I wanted to send you a note of encouragement and challenge (as I am wont to do). The following is a bit long but feels important, so please bear with me.
First, let me take a minute to acknowledge an event in American news that caught my attention. Last week, video footage of a black man being shot and killed in broad daylight was leaked, causing a stir of online and offline protests. I myself was moved by the event and learned a lot from friends and members of my community. If you’d like to hear my thoughts regarding the murder of Ahmaud Arbery, you can read them on Instagram.
Bottom line: We who tell stories and share words with the world have a responsibility to speak out on behalf of the oppressed. Often our silence is an act of injustice in itself. And to all my readers who are people of color, I want to tell you I am committed to doing better than I’ve done in the past, first by learning and listening, then by acting and lending my voice. Thank you for your patience as I become more aware of my own blindness and privilege.
In that same vein, I believe now is the best time to offer our greatest gift to the world. In times of crisis, we are called to create more work, not less. This doesn’t mean we pursue productivity for the sake of staying busy; it means we share our work in way that is unique and generous, because that’s what we’re here to do—not pivot, but find our true work and share it.
That said, it seems there are a few different paths we can pursue in offering our work to the world. And these ways are not created equal.
The first way is a transaction. We make things to get things. Money. Recognition. A sense of purpose. This often ends up feeling zero-sum and binary. It either works or it doesn’t. You starve or you succeed, and you do so at the expense of others. This is the world of celebrity artists, musicians, and authors, reinforcing the myth that it’s all or nothing. Take the leap, hope for the best, and if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll catch a break.
The second way is a compromise. We get a day job and do our art on the side, ever afraid of selling out, mitigating our risk and following a more practical path of creation. This works, but it is also a path of self-preservation, motivated by fear of being hurt. On this path, we follow a careful and calculated plan so as to not end up in a difficult situation. It’s not wrong, but it rarely leaves the artist feeling fully satisfied in her work, as if she’s given it her all. We who choose this path frequently end up feeling jaded toward those who have “made it,” secretly jealous of their success and wondering what we did wrong.
The third way is a gift. We share our work freely without expectation of reciprocity. We don’t starve our way to success nor do we compromise our core values for the sake of practicality. We confidently relax in our work, knowing it is not for everyone but surely for someone. We trust that if we do the work, the world will take notice. And when we do this, we show up in ways that the previous paths don’t provide. We are open and excited, generous and free to give our best work without needing anything in return. And of course, this is attractive and interesting and always brings a new energy to the work, thus creating better art. And good art gets its reward, eventually.
Yes, there are practical things you can do to help your work spread and grow—strategies and tools and resources worth learning. But far too often, I see people following one of the first two paths, wondering why it doesn’t work. The reason is this: you have to care. You have to believe in your work before anyone else does. You have to show up, hands open and full, ready to give. You have to keep showing up, keep giving, and keep sharing, especially when you doubt how good it is or if anyone cares. This is the way you get people to care: you audaciously do the work, no matter what. To be generous is always the best way to get noticed—and it’s always the only true path to creating real art.
Okay, so what does all that mean? It means you commit to the path that you want. And if you want to be a giver, it means you show up every day for at least the next six months without expectation or excuse or complaint. You do the work, knowing no one will care or listen. You do it for the practice. You do it to call your own bluff. You do it because you love it, and because if you stick with it, you will be rare. And eventually, people will care and pay attention and even pay you. But it starts here, with you.
And if you need help figuring out what this looks like, you might enjoy my friend Danny Iny’s latest book called Teach Your Gift, which lays out how to share your knowledge in a way where you can be generous and make a living from your gift (those two aren't mutually exclusive). The book is currently free via Amazon Kindle, but the freebie expires at 11:59 p.m. Eastern tonight.
If you’re curious about the world of online education and how you could even build a business around your knowledge, click here to download this free book.
That said, how can you share your gift with the world this week?
I’d love to hear more.
Best,
Jeff
