When’s the last time someone pointed out what you were doing right? Not just “good job.” I mean, specifically and in detail something you did really, really well.

Ok. And when’s the last time someone pointed out an error you made, or a change you might consider, or ways to improve what you’ve done? Probably 30 seconds ago.

I believe that most feedback comes from good intention. They think they’re helping when they point out what’s wrong, because that way you can be better.

The problem, as Marcus Buckingham and Ashley Goodall wrote in their HBR cover story this spring, “The Feedback Fallacy,” is that traditional feedback is flawed. Deeply. And it doesn’t do what you think it will do.

“People don’t need feedback,” the authors write. “They need attention to what they do best.”

You wouldn’t believe the pushback I hear on this. People LOVE their criticism. We so want to believe we’re right about what needs fixing. And maybe we are!

Part of the problem is we dive into criticism too soon—right at the tender moment when we’re risking new ideas, new efforts. And criticism can seriously tamp down your creativity.

But part of it is just that we assume that what’s working is so obvious we don’t need to pay attention to it.

That’s incorrect. Because often we DON’T know what we’re doing right. We’re all so focused on not messing up! We’re out there tiptoeing around landmines, which ties up a lot of our bandwidth, making it hard to do, well, much of anything else.

How helpful is positive feedback? Maybe at least just as helpful as negative? Maybe two times, five times as effective? Try again.

“Positive attention is 30x more powerful than negative attention in creating high performance on a team,” say Buckingham and Goodall.

Think this is some special snowflake stuff? Some kind of everyone-gets-a-trophy tactic that panders to weakness and a need for acceptance?

Wrong again.

I’ve seen what happens when you take a group of smart, successful professionals of all stripes who’ve spent a lifetime avoiding criticism, and put them in a room with new groundrules and expectations, and no fear of criticism. .

What they create blows me away, every time.

I was so excited about the HBR article because it confirms what I have seen and learned as a Gateless trained facilitator. Gateless is a methodology, an approach to creative work (read: any work), designed to quiet the critic so that you can tap your own potential—for creativity, big ideas, all of it.

We write to a prompt and share that work out loud—and what you hear back from the group is what is specifically working and why. It retrains the mind to see what’s working in others’ work, so you can see it in your own. It challenges habitual ways of thinking, and can catapult your work forward.

What does Gateless feedback sound like? Take a listen.

My fellow Gateless teacher Becky Karush has a podcast that’s based on the Gateless method. It’s called Read to Me: The Podcast to Listen for What We Love, and each week she takes a piece of work, ranging from song lyrics to classic works to modern authors, and shares a short passage, and then does a Gateless “read” on it.

This episode features a very fun mashup of Taylor Swift and our colleague Cass McCrory, a digital marketing strategist who shared something quite personal from her own life.

The reason I point it out to you now is because Cass wrote it in about 15 minutes in my Pop Up Story Salon in NYC in August. She wrote it, read it, and we all fell in love. You will too (listen to that episode here).

It just goes to how what can happen when you give yourself TIME to write and ATTENTION to what you do best.

Try it today. Go around and point out specifically what people are doing well. All day. All week if you like. Then, see what happens.

(…If this sounds like fun, btw, I’m running another Pop Up Salon in NYC WED 12/4/19. Learn more about it + hold your spot here. )

 

When’s the last time someone pointed out what you were doing right? Not just “good job.” I mean, specifically and in detail something you did really, really well.

Ok. And when’s the last time someone pointed out an error you made, or a change you might consider, or ways to improve what you’ve done? Probably 30 seconds ago.

I believe that most feedback comes from good intention. They think they’re helping when they point out what’s wrong, because that way you can be better.

The problem, as Marcus Buckingham and Ashley Goodall wrote in their HBR cover story this spring, “The Feedback Fallacy,” is that traditional feedback is flawed. Deeply. And it doesn’t do what you think it will do.

“People don’t need feedback,” the authors write. “They need attention to what they do best.”

You wouldn’t believe the pushback I hear on this. People LOVE their criticism. We so want to believe we’re right about what needs fixing. And maybe we are!

Part of the problem is we dive into criticism too soon—right at the tender moment when we’re risking new ideas, new efforts. And criticism can seriously tamp down your creativity.

But part of it is just that we assume that what’s working is so obvious we don’t need to pay attention to it.

That’s incorrect. Because often we DON’T know what we’re doing right. We’re all so focused on not messing up! We’re out there tiptoeing around landmines, which ties up a lot of our bandwidth, making it hard to do, well, much of anything else.

How helpful is positive feedback? Maybe at least just as helpful as negative? Maybe two times, five times as effective? Try again.

“Positive attention is 30x more powerful than negative attention in creating high performance on a team,” say Buckingham and Goodall.

Think this is some special snowflake stuff? Some kind of everyone-gets-a-trophy tactic that panders to weakness and a need for acceptance?

Wrong again.

I’ve seen what happens when you take a group of smart, successful professionals of all stripes who’ve spent a lifetime avoiding criticism, and put them in a room with new ground rules and expectations, and no fear of criticism. .

What they create blows me away, every time.

I was so excited about the HBR article because it confirms what I have seen and learned as a Gateless trained facilitator. Gateless is a methodology, an approach to creative work (read: any work), designed to quiet the critic so that you can tap your own potential—for creativity, big ideas, all of it.

We write to a prompt and share that work out loud—and what you hear back from the group is what is specifically working and why. It retrains the mind to see what’s working in others’ work, so you can see it in your own. It challenges habitual ways of thinking, and can catapult your work forward.

Want to know what it sounds like?

My fellow Gateless teacher Becky Karush has a podcast that’s based on the Gateless method. It’s called Read to Me: The Podcast to Listen for What We Love, and each week she takes a piece of work, ranging from song lyrics to classic works to modern authors, and shares a short passage, and then does a Gateless “read” on it.

This week features a very fun mashup of Taylor Swift and our colleague Cass McCrory, a digital marketing strategist who shared something quite personal from her own life.

The reason I point it out to you now is because Cass wrote it in about 15 minutes in my Pop Up Story Salon in NYC in August. She wrote it, read it, and we all fell in love. You will too (listen to that episode here).

It just goes to how what can happen when you give yourself TIME to write and ATTENTION to what you do best.

(If this sounds like fun, btw, I’m running another Pop Up Salon in NYC WED 12/4 and you can learn more about it + hold your spot here. )

Try it today. Go around and point out specifically what people are doing well. All day. All week if you like. Then, see what happens.

P.S. Seriously–if you’re near NYC, come to the all-day Pop Up Story Salon Wed 12/4. It could be just the spark you need.

When’s the last time someone listened to you. I mean, really listened.

Like, you could tell they were right there with you.

It’s rare, to have someone’s attention like that.

Even right now, I only have a share of your attention. And I’m holding on to it for dear life. 

Why? Because someone’s talking over your shoulder, your texts are going off like crazy, and you’re debating whether you should go get a coffee or not (I vote yes. YES TO COFFEE.)

I bring it up, about people listening, this because lately I’ve been doing a lot of speaking and speaking ABOUT speaking (solo presenter and moderator trainings), and to me it always comes down to this:

Attention is the MOST expensive resource we have. And if you want someone to pay you with it, you better earn it. 

When you get on stage (or on screen, or at the front of the room) your job is to give people a reason why they should KEEP PAYING YOU with their attention.

Ask yourself, why should someone listen to me, and what am I doing to earn that attention? 

It’s one of the things I’m thinking about as I prepare to speak to the women execs and emerging leaders at Hearst this week (which I’m very excited about).

And if your answer to that question is, “Because I have important information to share,”—well, I think you can do even better.

Going in with info is the low bar.

I say aim higher: Go in not just to give information, but to change their minds. 

Yes. EVEN if they didn’t know there was anything to change their minds about.

For instance, I give a keynote based on my TEDx talk, “Stop searching for your passion.” The assumption I’m working with here is that people DO think that if they followed their passions, they’d be happier, and then they worry that they haven’t picked the right passion or missed it altogether.

I start there, and overturn the idea, showing them how flawed it is, and why it’s profoundly unhelpful.

Anytime you get up to say your piece, a host of invisible obstacles, assumptions, anxiety, all kinds of clutter, get in the way. So the first job is to dismantle that stuff so that the path is clear. 

That is the critical heavy lifting for ANY public speaking effort.  Not just knowing why you’re there, but what this audience believes and how your insights can affect, or even overturn, that belief. That’s how to meet them where they are.

This has never, ever steered me wrong—but it’s a step most people skip.

ALSO, 3 GOINGS TO SHARE…

1. DO SOMETHING COOL!

> POP-UP STORY SALON in DC AREA | Thurs 11/7, 9:00-5:00: I’m running a live, in person Pop Up Story Salon—ideal for business owners, execs, entrepreneurs, speakers, writers, marketers—anyone who wishes to God they had a few hours to think clearly and go deep into their own work, instead of putting out fires all day. Find out more + reserve your spot.

 

2. SEE SOMETHING FUNNY!

SUBTEXT: A Comedy Show in NYC | Sat 11/9 doors at 6:30pm: This new show, produced by Jenn Lederer and featuring Jenn, me, and Marla Schultz, blends storytelling, stand-up, and text-message mishaps for a fun, dynamic night of comedyTickets + info here.  (Also, I don’t usually post comedy shows to you on this list, but if you want to know about shows, hit reply and tell me to add you to that comedy list specifically.)


3. WRITE SOMETHING AMAZING 

>> SIX MONTH SPRINT (virtual) | Deadline, Fri 11/8: If you wish you could get more writing done for work or for life, and wish you had a tribe to share that work with and gain some momentum around it, this might be a fit. Starting in November, we hit the ground writing, with 12 sessions plus 1:1 attention on your work. We are religious about content, but platform agnostic. Take a look at the Sprint and see if this sounds fun. I’m here if you have questions. 

A few weeks ago, some friends and I decided to do something really seasonal: We went out to the country (read: Jersey) to pick apples. 

Turns out, we’d missed apple picking season by two weeks. We could buy the ones that had been picked and stuffed into paper sacks. But what’s the fun in that. 

We instead visited the pumpkin patch, picked among the misshapen, warty gourds for perfect, round orbs that we could carry and fit into our tiny New York apartments. (Plus, document on IG #fall #pumpkinspice). We proceeded to go eat burgers the size of our heads. 

Then, after it got dark, we went BACK to the orchard and paid someone to scare the crap out of us. 

“I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all,” one of our five friends said. 

“Too bad. We’re doing it.”

We bounced along on bales of hay, and were deposited back at the Demarest orchard, where the charming sunny pumpkin patch had become something much darker, where all manner of ghosts, goblins, and witches lay in wait.

There was an edge of cool in the air, the moon as bright as as bulb, casting long green shadows across the grove. We waited in line FOR AN HOUR.

When we finally stepped through the old barn doors into the yawning orchard, there was…no one. It was silent and still. 

Where were all those other people? We tiptoed through, bound together as if by glue, giddy and giggling, wondering what was about to happen. 

The world right now, I think we can agree, is scary enough. 

But what we, and many others, didn’t want the evening news, or virtual reality. 

What we wanted was to walk through an actual orchard and be taken off guard by by real people masquerading as monsters—who, I reminded my frightened friend, were heavily made up theater majors with a sweet seasonal gig. 

Even when I knew what was about to happen, I was still startled when a witch leapt from the shadows or a hunching ghoul came snarling over my shoulder. 

It worked. Humans startling humans, one of the oldest games in the book. 

Why am I telling you this? 

Because for all our bustling online lives, all the platforms we build out of thin, digital air, for all our efforts to reach each other—as I’m doing with you, via the interwebs right now—nothing can ever replace real people affecting, and sometimes surprising, real people. 

All the crazy special effects in the world cannot come close to the real-life experience of good old fashioned analog horror. Even when it comes in the form of a 22-year-old kid in zombie makeup. 

We don’t always want to be scared, of course—what we want is to be stimulated, to feel alive, and sometimes, yes, to feel that is…startling. 

Maybe you don’t like scary things. But you can startle in many ways—with beauty, with humor, with a unique thought or story or idea. 

Canned marketing does not startle. Predictable sales pitches do not startle. Carefully executed web pages designed to trigger in the name of conversion, rarely startle. 

But leaping into the path of another person, in whatever form that takes? That remains the only way to get someone’s attention. You don’t have to scare them, but you may need to startle them out of an old way of thinking and seeing. 

All five of us made it out of the orchard alive, laughing, feeling the afterglow of adrenaline returning to its natural levels. 

It was fun to be scared in a pretend situation, to fake fight with a maniac and for real flirt with a haggard ghost who kept haunting me (“Oh please, you don’t scare me,” I said. “I’ve been ghosted before.” 

So my question to you is this: 

Where are you startling people out of their habitual thoughts, fears, predictable loathing? Where have you been startled? 

Where are you helping someone feel more alive than they were five minutes ago? 

…Part of the fun of any work, your work, is being surprised by it. Delighted, awed, engaged. Have you given yourself a chance to do or experience that? Are you doing it in the work you share with the world? 

You can still access the replay of my two-part masterclass, Rekindle Your Content, where you’ll discover ways to breathe startling new life into the connections you’re making with your prospects, clients, audience. 

What’s going on in your world?

Two big things this week in mine: Wed (the 9th) is my birthday, and I’m also moving. Did I tell you that?

Not far—about four blocks from where I currently live on the Upper West Side. My requirements were that I didn’t want to have to change dry cleaners, coffee shops, or subway stops.

Boom.

So it’s not far, but in many ways it’s miles beyond where I’ve been living.

Why? Because I’m going from a 300 sq. ft studio apartment, where I’ve lived for 10 years (10!) to a one-bedroom that’s over 600 sq ft.

For people who typically eat and sleep in different rooms, this doesn’t feel like much. But in Manhattan, it might as well be Buckingham Palace.

It’s fun. It’s also…physically painful. My back is sore at me, my shoulder feels off its hinges. My right hamstring is balled up like an angry fist. I’m excited. That hamstring is thrilled, too, actually. It just doesn’t know how to show it. So it’s fistbumping the rest of my body.

One thing moving makes you do? Take serious stock. Look at what you have, what you no longer want. It’s a line in the sand, moving. And several bags of forgettable sweaters didn’t make the cut.

I’m also bracing for the vulnerability of having a team of movers, due here any minute, going through my stuff.

I mean, this is intimate stuff–this is your LIFE, being handled, packed, and heaved onto a truck.

I expect zero editorializing from these four movers, whom I’ll guess will be around 27 years old. But can you imagine if they did?

“What is this?”

“Why do you own this?”

“You sure this works with your life right now?”

These are lines of dialogue that won’t occur today. I am guessing, in fact, very little dialogue will occur.

MY POINT:

What makes us a little uneasy about moving is the same reason we’re sometimes uneasy about sharing our stuff—namely, ideas, stories, dreams.

Because sharing them feels…vulnerable.

What if you could share what you do, think, create, and know that NO ONE is going to criticize or judge or question your taste, but instead are going to look at it specifically to explore its genius?

Imagine if one of these movers held out a dress from my closet and said, “OMG this was a great decision.” (That’s not happening. But can you imagine if it did?)

I’m not a mover technically, but I do help people move their work into the world. How? By helping people see and express the genius in all the stuff that’s jammed into their closets, drawers. Things they haven’t looked at in years.

And I do it using a specific method for tapping creative genius, one I’m trained in, called the Gateless Method. And I speak about it and do workshops and retreats all over the place so that people can experience it themselves.

Last week I did a two-part masterclass called Rekindle Your Content, to help people turn content creation from soulless slog to energizing, powerful tool that you LIKE CREATING.

(And I practice what I preach, too—how else do you think these emails get written?)

The response has been so fantastic, so I thought you might want to see it. I’m making the replays available to you right now for a limited time. You can grab them right here (it’s free).

Let me know what you think! I’d love to hear.

>>GET THE FREE REKINDLE REPLAYS.

OK. Movers are here. Gotta run.

P.S. Wait til you see Part II–where people I don’t know at all share their stuff with me and everyone on the call (and there were a lot of people on there). I found it pretty powerful. I always do.

If you had asked me last week if I’d be moved by a closing performance by Queen at the Global Citizen Festival in Central Park, I’d say, umm, probably not. 

But then on Thursday, I watched Bohemian Rhapsody, and that changed everything. 

Have you seen the movie? You kinda can’t take your eyes off Rami Malek as Freddie Mercury. He’s mysterious and sexy, and just by being, well, him, he challenges convention and elevates personality to a high art. 

And so when I turned on the TV tonight (you crazy? I wasn’t going to shove my way into Central Park with 60,000 people in it), and saw Queen (with Adam Lambert as the Mercury stand-in), I was…enthralled. And moved. 

Like most of the world, I already have Queen melodies and lyrics baked into my brain. But having seen the movie, I felt emotions I wouldn’t have felt—even a surprising wave of nostalgia. 

One particularly moving moment was when they cut to actual video of Mercury doing that call-and-response thing he was famous for.

There he was, calling out in his bright yellow jacket at the London Olympic games in the 80s…and 60,000 people in New York in 2019 called back. 

THAT moment struck me, hard. 

Mercury died in 1991. Would he have imagined, from that stage, that day, that three decades later, people would be shouting back at him across that void, even then? Maybe he did.  

It doesn’t matter if you saw the concert, or if you have any feeling about Queen at all. 

The point is that art that moves people lasts. And not nice, neat, polite art that you do to please someone else, or when you have time for it, but the kind of art you’re willing to risk things for. Maybe everything.  

One of the best lines in the movie is delivered by Mercury to famed manager John Reed, who asks him what’s so different about Queen. 

Mercury doesn’t say, “oh because we’re passionate about what we do, we love it, we love playing music.” Nope. 

He says: 

“We’re four misfits who don’t belong together, playing to the other misfits…who are pretty sure they don’t belong either. We belong to them.” 

If you want someone to fall in love with what you do, with what you offer, they have to feel it belongs to them, too. They have to love it so much, they’d shout across decades, just to keep the song alive. 

Art doesn’t last because of that one person’s passion, or because of its “owner.” If art (in whatever form yours takes) is to last, someone else must feel they own it, too.

Art lasts because you own a piece of it; it’s yours to keep. The question is, do you have something to share that someone else wants to keep?

 

HOW SERIOUS ARE YOU ABOUT THIS? 

…If you want to spend more time creating thing sthat matter, you need to make the time to do it. You can’t wait for inspiration to strike, or someone to ask you for it. You need to push aside a lot of things and people so you can have SPACE to do it in. 

I have two ways that I can help, if you want. If not, that’s fine, too. 

  1. REGISTER FOR MY 2-PART MASTERCLASS (online), “Rekindle Your Content: Fire up your creativity and fuel your marketing efforts.
    Oct 3 & 4 @ 12p ET for about an hour each. It’s free!
  2. GO FULL IMMERSION—AT THE INTENSIVE (in real life!). Join me for The Intensive, an all-inclusive 3-day writing workshop designed to tap your inner genius. Oct 17-20 in Austin, Texas. No previous writing experience required! 3 SPOTS LEFT. 

 

P.S. Check out the video for The Intensive—it captures the vibe and venue beautifully. If you can’t make the October dates but are interested, let me know because we’re opening enrollment for spring 2020. Same location!

There’s a song by recording artist and folk singer Mary Gauthier that guts me, every time. 

It’s called “Mercy Now,” and the song moves, achingly, through concentric circles of forgiveness: Starting with her father, who could use some mercy now…and ending with her country, which could most definitely use some mercy now. (Lord have mercy, indeed.) 

You listen to a song like that, and it’s artistry in action: It’s what I imagine a soul sounds like.

Now, you and I are not Grammy-nominated singer-songwriters touring the globe with a new album like she is (unless you are and you didn’t tell me). 

And you might think you have nothing in common with her because that’s not you. But that’s not true. 

Because what it takes to be courageous in her work is precisely the same thing it takes to be courageous in yours. There is no difference.

Sure, the platform is different; hers is stage, lights, theater, and yours might be office, classroom, co-working space, Adirondack chair). 

I don’t care what that work is—to get up and go and do it, every day, is important work. It’s your work. And what threatens that work? Self doubt. Fear of criticism. Comparison. 

We put the kibosh on our most creative ideas, more often than not.

I recently interviewed Mary, at midnight, because that was the only time she had (again, rock star), to talk about how she fights the demons of self-criticism, judgment, fear in her own work and why it’s worth fighting it in our own. 

“The ever-expanding waves of putting work out into the world may never be measured, but something could happen as a result of me doing my work,” she said. “Comparison gets in the way of all of that.”

(Watch the interview here.)

She’s so good. 

And the reason I was up late interviewing Mary, when I usually just text her, is because I have a big announcement to make:

Mary Gauthier will be co-leading The Intensive with me Oct 17-20, 2019, in Austin, Texas. 

Yeah, I know you’re busy. You have a life and obligations, and things booked (a meeting, a lunch, a long-put-off task). 

But six months from now, what do you think you’ll remember most? The weekend you spent catching up on shows or emails (that never happens), or the one you spent uncorking a bottle of brilliance stowed away in your mental basement? That’s one hell of a vintage. I say, drink it!

>>Read more about The Intensive. 

If this speaks to you, then trust me, it’s worth jostling schedules for. (Ask anyone in this video who attended.)

WAIT, WHAT IS IT AGAIN? 

The Intensive is an intimate, all-inclusive three-day event where a small group of leaders, writers, speakers, creatives, and pros of every stripe come together to work on their ideas, their stories—the things that will move their brand and work forward in a bigger way. 

The point is to dig down into your own work using writing as our tool—but NO RED PENS. No criticism, no judgment. Period.

Because if you want to create work of meaning and get a better handle on what that work is, it starts on the page, where all great work begins. 

“What happens on retreat is transformative,” Mary says. “Because the group is naturally inclined to root for you. We get close to each other thru this vulnerability, and there’s this building up of affection for each other that happens really quickly. You end up with a group of people who really want you to succeed.” 

Attending Gateless Writing retreats changed my life, personally and professionally. They helped me catapult my writing and my work in dramatic ways, and I have no doubt it can do the same for you on The Intensive. 

So let’s talk. Apply for a spot here (no fancy pedigree required!). 

 

P.S. Here’s what Intensive attendee Jenn Barrett had to say: 

“The retreat helped me find and develop my voice and discover how powerful and persuasive it can be. I left the retreat inspired and energized with a clear understanding of how I could use my voice and my writing to advance the ideas I care most deeply about.” 

–Jenn Barrett, start-up exec, journalist, and financial literacy advocate

 

I was in Whole Foods the other day, browsing the gluten-free cookie aisle, and I heard this little voice pipe up. 

“Hi!” 

And there, parked in a stroller by the almond milk, was an adorable baby girl, waving emphatically at me. 

“Hi! Hi!”

“Well hello there,” I said, delighted, walking over. “What’s your name?” 

And then the baby fell silent. There was an awkward pause. Then she looked past me to someone else ambling up the aisle. 

“Hi! Hi!” 

I had reached the apex of her engagement skills. Granted, she was like two. But still. Once she had my attention, she was moving on. She simply didn’t have anything else to say. 

I laughed, grabbed a box of something made with rice flour, and walked away. 

Sure, she’s a child. She doesn’t have a vocabulary for engagement. But we do. 

And it struck me that this is exactly—exactly—the problem with efforts we make to attract and engage people for our businesses and brands:

We love waving people in. We love getting them to pay attention. We love getting our stuff “out there” and “raising awareness.” 

We invest tons of time and money, to GET people to notice, thinking once they notice and like us, they’re ours forever. 

Nope. 

If all we do is try to wave people in, we’re no better than that baby in the dairy aisle, waving hard and then turning our attention to the next person. 

Because once you stop making that effort, to show relevance and value, they walk away. Sometimes even when you DO make the effort, they walk away! 

Take this blog, for instance. 

The minute that thing happened with the baby, I got excited, because I knew I wanted to tell you about it.

You might be entertained by this, but someone else just said to themselves, “What is this drivel,” and dealt the death blow to the “unsubscribe” button. It’s fine. 

To keep the right people engaged and in conversation with you, you have to let everyone else move on down the aisle toward what they’re looking for. 

So what is the magic that DOES keep people engaged? It’s not offers. It’s not discounts. 

It’s content. But content is not a platform. It’s a conversation. 

Email, wordpress, social—these are platforms.

The platform is the body; the content is the soul. And if marketing efforts feel empty to you, it’s because they’re dead inside. 

I know you’re busy. Content feels “extra,” like another thing you have to do that you’re not getting paid to do. 

But in fact you are getting paid to do it.

Every time someone engages with you, reads your stuff, understands who and what you represent and offer, you are paid handsomely in the one thing people are the most stingy about: Their attention. 

Ready for the invite? Here it is. 

I’m teaming up with my digital strategist and branding pro Cass McCrory to offer a two-part webinar, a free one, unlike anything I’ve done before online, actually. 

This (free) 2-part master class is called “Rekindle Your Content: How to fire up your creativity and fuel your marketing efforts.” 

>>You can get the replay here.

This (free) two-part virtual event is great for you (and/or a team member) if you:

  • Want to generate more and better content, but are tired and bored of doing it
  • Are paralyzed by a blank page and hate sitting down to “write copy” 
  • Want to refocus your content efforts, but aren’t sure where to start (or restart)

(Can’t make both, or either, times? Register anyway. We’ll send you the recording. But due to the very dynamic nature of this thing, you’ll get far more out of doing it live.)

Part I: Rekindle your content is about aligning those efforts with intention and purpose, rather than firing off posts with a t-shirt gun. 

Part II: Reinspire your work is where we roll up our sleeves and DO the work, yes, right then and there. 

This isn’t a pitch fest; it’s a master class. And I wouldn’t do two parts if I didn’t think it would be powerful and worthwhile. 

>REGISTER for “Rekindle Your Content” replay (for $0). 

 

P.S. You do NOT need to be a professional writer or have a blog to make this worthwhile. If you have ideas you want to share, a brand you want to build, this will help you focus that effort. Join us!

 

My friend Paula Rizzo looks like a sweet little cat. 

She’s neat and orderly and totally adorable, a petite, pretty brunette with a laugh like a bell. 

But don’t be fooled. Inside that kitten facade, the girl is a pit bull. 

She cut her teeth in newsrooms (which are not for the faint of heart) where she spent nearly two decades as a TV news producer, and now has an Emmy on her mantle to show for it. The girl doesn’t think in days or hours, but in seconds. 

So while the rest of us are doing things like, you know, blinking, she has already studied, learned, and mastered whole skill sets.

And when the girl had a stomachache for days, she ignored it.

For a delicate flower, she has an extremely high pain tolerance. Then the stomachache abated for a bit. You know why?

Because her appendix had exploded inside her. 

She lived to tell the tale, and while she was on the mend, she used her ninja list-making skills to rejigger what she would and would not be doing.

She and I were putting plans together to do a live event at the time, and when this disaster happened, she said, “We need something that will last even if body parts explode,” and so we launched an online digital course I’m quite proud of, called Lights Camera Expert.

The thing you might not guess about Paula is that she has an addictive personality. She gets into one thing, and THAT is what she’s into. Oatmeal for breakfast? All other breakfasts can go home now. Genmaicha green tea? Every day. I’m just glad she never tried meth. 

The girl is also obsessed with lists.

I don’t just mean “tasks for today” lists, but like, “stuff we need to talk about today over maki rolls,” including, “What’s going on with what’s-his-name?” 

(That is a question for me, and the answer is, nothing. Nothing is going on). 

She launched a blog about lists. Then a book about lists (Listful Thinking, bestseller, translated into umpteen languages, including whatever they speak on Mars). 

While I was doing laundry and trimming my nails and trying to figure out what to do for lunch, she released her second book, Listful Living: A List-Making Journey to a Less Stressed You. 

It’s pretty and practical, bound in an adorable package. Just like her. But there’s more to it than that.

Anyone can write down what they have to do today. But that’s just one use. Because what’s the point of all of the effort you make if you don’t know where you are right now, and where you’re headed. 

Lists give us control, reduce piles of to-dos into a clean, straight spine that can stand and move. She’s a list chiropractor, helping align the pieces to ensure that the to-dos align with the what the what-fors, and don’t forget the WHAT-I’M-NOT-DOING-ANYMORES, which is equally critical. 

If you could use a tool for helping map out your next steps—in your life, career, project, check out Listful Living: A List-Making Journey to a Less Stressed You. 

You’ll end up doing things you wouldn’t have otherwise thought about, or done, and that’s key. Trust me, when Paula tells me to do something, I don’t ask questions. I do it.