Happy Thursday, writer friends,
Earlier this week, I woke up with a very clear image in my head. This has been happening a lot lately and I’m thoroughly convinced it’s because I’ve actively been working on releasing a ton of limiting beliefs.
I go to bed each night with questions I need clarity on. Often, I wake up with an answer in the form of images or, in one case, an entire book outline.
Anyway, so this image was of a chess prodigy walking from board to board, playing multiple games with multiple opponents. The ability to hold that much information about these different games and know the next moves is not only a skill, it’s excellence at a level most of us can’t even comprehend. In chess, it’s a gift. A real talent. In writing, it’s seen as a distraction. A weakness. Something you “shouldn’t” do because it divides your focus.
But what if it doesn’t?
I’m the sort of writer who is energized, and not depleted, by multiple projects. This month, for instance, I have 21 deadlines for current freelance clients and I’m also working on two books while preparing for a product launch in September. Some people would find that overwhelming and distressing. I find it invigorating.
I had a call with a potential business coach last year who told me I couldn’t be successful if I kept up this scattered approach. I’m already successful, I said, before informing him I wouldn’t be needing his services after all. The thing is, I recommend a focused approach to some of my clients, too, because it suits their personality. But for people like me? People who need to be working on multiple things at once to feel engaged and avoid boredom? This kind of shaming can be extremely detrimental. (Imagine telling that chess player to focus on one game at a time.)
While nothing anyone has ever said has stopped me from working on 37 projects at once, it has created an insane amount of guilt. I often feel like I’m doing business wrong. Like I’m falling behind because I’m not focused enough. That any success I have is not because of what I’ve done, but what I’ve gotten away with. Logically, I know it’s bullshit. But emotionally, I feel conflict.
Hence the desire to remove that limiting belief. And the ensuing chess image.
As I was writing this email, I got Danielle Steel’s newsletter in which she sent out a link to a Good Morning America interview. She’s celebrating one billion copies of her books sold, and she casually mentioned that she writes 5-6 books at a time. (Okay, Universe, I get it.)
I worked with a mentor years ago, to whom I admitted that I felt envious of writers who had a singular focus. That this sort of multi-passionate approach to my career made me a Jack of All Trades and Master of None. I will love this man forever for what he said.
“What kind of bullshit binary thinking is that?” he said and truly, he looked baffled. “It’s not excellence at one or mediocrity at many. You have the opportunity to be excellent at so many aspects of the craft, because each one allows you to build on the other. Any excellence you’ve achieved with journalism is only adding to your fiction. And that applies to all areas of the work you do.”
“And anyway,” he continued, “You’re not envious of anyone. That’s a lie. You’d be bored out of your mind if you were forced to do only one thing.”
I guess we can agree he wasn’t taking my bullshit.
And now, neither am I.
Because yes, while it may take me longer to finish a single book than it might someone who’s focusing on it exclusively, I’m always finishing something. Often, daily. I’m much more efficient because when I get bored or tired of a project, I don’t stop work for the day, I just move on to something else.
Since I became a writer, I have written, run or created:
- 1,160+ stories for publications in over 30 countries
- 3,200+ blog posts/newsletters
- 12 books (8 currently available, one retired, 3 completed)
- 22 programs for writers
- 3 membership communities
- 100+ group coaching calls
- 400+ videos/audios for my paid writing communities
I don’t want to be good at one thing. I want to be excellent at all of them.
People tell me I can’t be.
But then, I’ve always enjoyed proving people wrong.
Cheers,
Natasha