Sometimes I’ll get an email that’s a solid wall of text, from someone ready to jump from the roof of their life.
Sometimes it’s short and to the point, where they assume they know me, and pay homage to my work while correcting a spelling error in an article I wrote months ago.
I appreciate that too.
All from people I don’t know. Yet.
And sometimes – when I look at that wall of text – I can feel that they’re not breathing as they’re typing. Typing. Typing!
I know that it’s a human being on the other end of this black and white note, who, for one reason or another, felt COMPELLED to write a note, to say hello, to reach out for help.
From a stranger.
From a stranger who doesn’t feel so strange.
(For some strange reason.)
So they – you – write.
And without knowing them, you, I already know you.
I know the pain. And the dreams.
I can taste your hesitancy, your fears, your resistance.
And I breathe “It’s OK”, as I read.
Your literal words are sometimes “My site sucks.” or “I’ve no idea what my branding is.” But it’s really, maybe? “I feel like a failure.” or “My business isn’t really working.”
“Can you help? I’m scared… I’m even scared to ask.”
These are people there, behind the page, waiting to be held or poked or high fived, or have their ego stroked. “I’m already really well known, so I just need a facelift.”
Now think about your own work.
Who’s writing? What are they saying?
(Maybe they’re calling.) What are they saying?
Whose hearts are you touching?
What does your work do to someone?
What does it do to you?
Only you know.
If there’s a missing authenticity, put it back. If your heart is missing, you PUT IT BACK!
Put it back and watch!
And if you’re scared and don’t know how, take a deep breath, and send me a note.