My Thoughts

There’s a window somewhere, with a soft breeze blowing through it. And, there’s a white curtain that dances slowly with each subtle gust. The window sill is painted green, but the paint is chipping.

Outside the window is a secluded beachfront — garnished with seaweed and sticks. Or, there’s a tattered farm, with an old barn and endless greenery for the mind to wander into nowhere. Or, there’s the top of neighboring building, where life never stops, horns honk, and lights glare into the wee hours of the morning.

Inside the window is antique desk — weathered by age and overuse. On that desk sits a computer. A small yellow pad of paper, and a crystal glass containing one last gulp of scotch.

And, sitting at the desk is a handsome, but unkept man with silver hair and silver beard. He’s wildly typing — maybe telling a love story, or keying the resolution to steamy murder mystery.

This is the perception of the writer.

I’ve been doing this a long time. I pluck keys. I meet the world’s greats, and I have yet to meet this writer. I have yet to see the tattered desk, witness the subtle gust, or have the stomach to endure scotch.

Instead, I meet the deadlines. I meet the budgets. I meet the hour of 3 a.m. as my golden retriever looks at me and wonders when I will stop punching those keys. He wonders when I’ll stop scrutinizing and changing words. He wonders why, how, and when, we’ll all adhere to a much simpler language.

I, too, ponder that question. And, am haunted by finding a solution.

Oh, and then, there’s the painter, the dancer, and the musician. There’s the mechanic and the contractor. There’s the educator, the fitness instructor and the doctor. There’s the insurance broker, the real estate agent, and the business tycoon. There’s the parent, the friend, or the child. All are meeting their day-to-day artistry without the breeze, without the antique desk, and without the chipped paint.

But, all are trying to create the story of a lifetime, and live happily ever after.

All of us write stories.

Research says that most of you won’t read anything except bullet points.

• So far, that data is proving true.
• Right now you’re curious if I’ll write something of importance.
• I will.
• Actually, I already have but statistically you won’t read my other blogs because they’re not framed in bullet points.
• I admit, I like bullet points too.

Just the other day, I got a phone call that should have been the opposite. Yes, someone wanted to interview me on the secrets to success. Crazy right?

Well, let my pride swell for at least a second.

“Are you living the life you wanted?” they asked.

“Yes,” I said. “But, I could always do more. I want to, and need to, do more.”

“You ghost for many of the biggest authors in the business world,” they said.

“Yep.”

And, thats when the interviewer (which is usually me) pounced. “I sense something,” she said.

Listen, I need to pay my mortgage like everyone. I’ve got a family. I’ve got the same fears and frustrations that everyone has. Yea, I work with many of the most inspirational figures out there in the world. But, I’m just a guy who plucks keys. That’s all I do. I pluck.

“What’s the secret to your success?” she asked.

That was a tough question for me.

I’m not smarter. I’m not faster. I’m not better. I’m not anything different than the average person who finds their knack and responds to it. However, her question lead me to a deeper question: why are you calling me successful?

And, that brings me to the value I can offer the world…as well as myself.

1. Success is not about money. Yes money is system of points we can all accrue, but if you don’t enjoy the game, the points don’t really count.

2. Success is personal. I find it to be a glorious day when I shower and wear nothing but gym shorts. That’s my version of success. I don’t have to actually get dressed. And, I realize that’s not the normal definition of a successful day. But, I like it. And, you should define success by your own parameters as well.

3. Success is overcoming what you don’t like to do. I know this sounds like a negative. But, we all have things in our daily routines that we need to do, but have no desire to do. Success is overcoming these things. We’ve all worked at jobs we hate. We’ve all worked on projects that were painful. And, we’ve all sacrificed the dream of focusing on who we want to become because someone else is willing to spend money on who we are.

I, like you, have a perfect version of me floating around in my grey matter. I’m not there yet. You’re not either. And, that’s a good thing. Because true success only happens when you succeed, or when you’re ready to tally your life’s achievements.

If you want success, follow these 3 simple rules.

1. You define it.
2. You are responsible for it.
3. You are willing to do whatever it takes to make your success happen (working another job, working late at night or early in the morning, or when nobody else is looking).

Oh, and #4. Eat lots of eggs. You need protein to succeed.

Are you still pondering the title?

I’m sure there’s a correlation between canned hams and managers. However, because I’ve never been tasked with finding that correlation, I don’t know the answer. And, until I am tasked (meaning highly paid) to find the similarities, I’m okay with being labeled ignorant.

But, here’s my point.

I currently know a lot of people who are in life or career transitions. A young couple I know is considering having a baby but they’re scared because neither of them know anything about babies. A friend of mine is seeking new employment. He’s a salesman but is anxious about finding a company that sells the same products to the same target demographic. And, another friend of mine is obviously timid about setting real fitness goals because they say, “I’ve never been in great shape before.”

Okay, so let’s all face the human condition and fester in our insecurities. Let’s just say, “that’s cool” and move on.

Here’s my challenge to you even though we’ve let all the victims off the hook. Can we at least stop judging others for the things they have yet to do? Can we inspire them to reach for their goals? Can we reassure them out of fear? Can we explain to them that our entire lives are based on series of “firsts”? And, could someone please send this blog as a memo to corporate America, hiring managers and recruiters?

Listen, I’m not saying that an engineer can step into a surgeons shoes, or vice-versa. But, I am saying that both the engineer and the surgeon need to evolve forward—taking on new challenges (yes, that means things they haven’t done before) or they’ll shrivel and die horribly with a label “Outdated.”

A person seeking new fitness goals actually needs to try something new. Why? Cause the last endeavor didn’t work. And, for the people facing big life changes — like a baby, and aging parent, a new relationship, etc. — guess what? None of us were parents before we were parents. Everything we do has a first time. And, I can’t wrap my marginal little brain around why “first times” are so scary.

Shouldn’t we worry more about “last times?”

Stop looking for correlations and credentials. Although, if you’ve got some extra cash to blow, ignore this post. I’d be thrilled to research canned hams and managers.

Years ago, a single friend of mine had a brilliant plan to get dates every friday night. He would send out mass text messages to all the girls on his mobile contacts list. The message was simple, “Hey YOU. I’ve been thinking about YOU ;).”

Okay, so I understand how this makes the male species NOT shine in the brightest light, however, my friend’s plan worked brilliantly. He would simply wait to see who responded. And, when someone would respond, he would send a follow up text that said something like, “I’ve been curious how your job, housing situation, goal, etc. is going. Let me know. And, any chance you want to hang out tonight if you don’t have plans?”

Alright, so I’m not condoning the behavior, but I am applauding the strategy. It’s a strategy that budding authors should live by.

I often get contacted by people wanting to write a book, build a blog, write an ad, or whatever. They tell me there life story. They tell me about their business or their products. They tell me how many people have told them they “should write a book.” Or they tell me how many people need their service. And, then they ask for my help.

It’s true that everyone has an interesting story to tell. We are all products of unique circumstances and fantastic stories. However, unless we frame our stories like my friend framed his “pitch”, must of us won’t get enough attention to sell books, or products, to our own cousins.

“Hey YOU”, as a strategy, offers value to the recipient. It eludes to the fact that my friend “even though it wasn’t always true” had another person’s best interest in mind. And, his follow up email (however cheesy) showed that he was concerned with a specific aspect of there life.

That’s exactly what a good book does. Or an ad, or website, or blog. It doesn’t ramble on making a presentation about the author or the company or the product. Instead, it focuses on solving the reader’s needs. It focuses on their life, their career, their hurdles or struggles, and their outcomes. And, it focuses on how you care and how you can help.

In short, if you want to write a great book, blog, letter, or advertisement (or get dates on a Friday night), tell your stories NOT so that someone understands you, but so they understand you care about their story, situation, or hurdle more than your own.

Basically, if you want someone to be interested in you, be interested in them.

“Toc. Tic.” I thought, staring at my lighted tree. “How many more long days until Christmas?”

Friends, a Holiday Blog is a tradition for me. I sit down during this festive season and pluck keys to write a ridiculously long post. This typically involves transforming a seemingly mundane story into something that slightly resembles a poignant thought.

Last year it was a Gum-Smacker on an airplane. The year before it was a Jam-Dog. My list of random holiday emails have rambled on now for a decade.

Not this year. “Toc. Tic.” Time, this holiday season, screeched to a halt. And, I swear the clock ticked backward.

Okay, so I don’t have anything serious to whine about. The kids are healthy and happy and really, super-duper loud. My wife is still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And, I’ve been blessed to have my best year working to date—working alongside and writing with people who are much smarter than me. And, they are producing magical content and products. But, “Toc. Tic.” As soon as the holiday season arrived, my workload all but vanished—numerous large and long-term projects were placed “on-hold.” It’s typical. A lot of people and companies get so overwhelmed during the holidays that they hold the new big projects “until the new year.”

Where does it leave me every December? High and dry. “Toc. Tic.” Thumb-twiddling. I’m not complaining. I’m just an anxious type of guy.

So, there I sat, staring aimlessly at the tree. There was probably a little sweat on my forehead. There was probably a little anxiety smudged on my face. I can admit that I don’t handle stillness well. Okay, it’s worse than that. I can’t stand stillness. It freaks me out. I want to be running through my days with my hair on fire, and far too much work to do. And, quite frankly, the most expensive month of the year, was going to be the month that I earn the least.

“Daddy?” asked my oldest daughter (10). “Why are you so quiet?”

“Oh, I’m just thinking about my next book or project,” I said. “I just don’t have much work this month. It always makes me a little anxious to not have much to do.”

“Daddy?” asked my son (5). “Why don’t you write a superhero book where the guy has a big sword and fights like a ninja?”

“I could buddy, “ I said. “I just might do that.”

I looked over at my other daughter (7). She was standing in the corner with her fingers in her mouth.

“Get your fingers out of your mouth.” I snarled. “You don’t know where those fingers have been.”

She smiled. Then she lifted her hand in the air. “My tooth came out!”

We cheered—enough to make it count. Then, we put the tooth in a little baggy under her pillow. And, of course, the Tooth Fairy made an appearance that night.

Morning came. And, to my surprise, I was awakened by my toothless daughter—her face way too close for comfort.

“Good morning,” I said. “Why are you so close to my face?”

She paused—a gigantic, gaping smile consumed my visual space. “I got money from the Tooth Fairy,” she said. “I want you to have it because you don’t have much work this month and I want you to have a great Christmas.”

In her hand was a crumpled stack of bills. Leaning toward my ear, she then whispered, “That’s all the money I have right now. But, I’m sure I’ll lose another tooth soon.”

I’m as dry as a cracker, yet, her gesture almost brought me to tears. The expression and joy in her eyes was priceless.

Of course, I then proceeded to do the dumbest thing ever — I rejected my daughter’s crumpled money. The rejection made her twinkle diminish. Her shoulders sunk. Her smile faded. Her massive empty mouth closed until all I saw was a large pouty lip. She wanted to give. And, quite possibly, the worst thing I could have done was to not accept her gesture.

As adults, we can all rationalize that there is no greater gift than the ability to give. But, to see it up close (literally, like 2 inches away) is a stark reminder that sometimes we forget to practice the things we teach our children.

The mere thought that my daughter was able to help me was much more important to her than the money. Come to think of it, I think my daughter deserves a big bag of apples as a gift, so she gets the chance to help as much as she can. Let’s yank all those teeth out. That would make her smile come back. And, that’s something I couldn’t buy in my best months of the year.

Here lies the point of this story. This holiday season, we should all look around to see how we can contribute to someone in need. It may be giving to charities. It may be money, or gifts, or food, or work, or anything else tangible. However, let’s not forget that sometimes the biggest contribution a person can make is to allow someone else to give to them…even if the offer is coming from a seven year-old.

Let someone give to you. Give them the gift of “giving.”

Then, sit back, say “Thank you,” and count your blessings instead of your frustrations. We don’t always need to be running through the day with our hair on fire. Quite honestly, the craziness always returns in just a few short weeks and we’ll yearn for a little stillness.

Happy Holidays. Go Big in 2012. I know I will.

Until then, I’m sitting around with my daughter eating apples.

Every blue moon (I don’t even know what that means) we get gut feelings. Yes, we all know what gut feelings are. Therefore, I’m not going to waste my time talking about them.

It’s your gut. Are you going to follow it?

I thought I was teaching them a lesson. I thought I couldn’t be wiser. But, Taco Bell proved me wrong.

It’s a hard fact of life to realize that everything costs money. Especially in down economy, even a stress-free lifestyle requires some dough. People are struggling to make ends meet. People are losing jobs, and often taking jobs that pay less. And, sadly, many people have lost a lot through this recession.

A quick stop at the gas station today was reminder of hard times. A man outside the door asked me if I had an extra dime. He was counting his change and obviously had a set goal of how much money he needed to collect.

My son, not yet 5, witnessed the man asking me for money. “Is he a bad guy,” he asked?”

“No, he just wants money,” I replied. “He probably wants to buy some food.”

“Why doesn’t he just ask for food?” he asked.

“Everything costs money, buddy.” I said. “Everything.”

My son was a bit confused. And, as we drove he asked a billion questions. “Do bananas cost money? Does water cost money? Do my television shows cost money?”

It’s a tad depressing when you realize that everything costs money.

And then, dinner came tonight. And, in the middle while my son was still asking if the food on our plates costed money, I stood up and walked to the fridge, where I proceeded to grab a couple Taco Bell hot sauce packets — you know, spice things up a bit.

My daughter laughed at me. “Why do you use those silly little packets?” she asked. “We have the hot sauce in a bottle.”

“This is the best hot sauce made,” I said.

My son chimed in, “Does it cost money?”

Lesson lost. Some of the best things in life are still free. Love. Laughter. A child’s persistent questions. And, Taco Bell hot sauce.

I’ll add to the list if I discover anything else.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said with excitement. “Daddy, let’s put gel in my hair and make it look like I have wolf ears on my head. That’d be so cool.”

This statement was mad by my 5 year-old son, earlier this week.

Interesting? Yep. Cool? C’mon, what’s cooler for a 5 year-old boy? I probably would’ve allowed the plan to progress had it not been my wife’s birthday. (Just an FYI, falling prey to creative wishes of this sort don’t score points with the significant other.)

Why did he want wolf ears? Because, he thought the other kids would think it’s cool. And, he’s probably right — it would be cool simply because he was daring enough to do it.

But, then, consider this…

Just last week I was also approached by a potential client. He said he loved my style of writing. He said he wanted to tap into my creativity. He said he wanted to do something totally unexpected, irreverent, and ultimately shocking. He asked me to write an email blast that he could send to his database that would generate oodles of responses. He asked me if I could generate gobs of attention.

I said, “Sure. I can do that.”

And, then, he said, “But…”

“But, it has to sound buttoned-up and professional,” he said. “And, if you go onto our website (a total snoozer) you’ll see how we want it worded. That’s exactly what we want it to sound like.”

“So you want something different than your website?” I asked. “Or, do you want the same?”

“I want you to write something that sounds like all the other email blasts we’ve sent,” he replied. “Really professional and serious. Just like the ones we’ve sent before.”

“Were your previous email blasts successful?” I asked.

“No, that’s why we’re reaching out to you,” he said. “We can’t seem to generate any attention. But, we really like the way those emails are worded.”

And, that’s when our business relationship stopped.

Listen, I can generate attention like a wet monkey in linen closet. But, I need the wet monkey. Otherwise, it’s just a linen closet.

And, here lies the point…

Over the course of my career I’ve discovered two very distinct personalities. First, there are those people that want to be “right.”  And, second, there are those people that want to be “successful.”

The people that want to be right are consumed with correctness and structure. They’re the people who assume there is a black and white strategy to winning. They believe there is only a right way and a wrong way. And, they typically cannot see further than the things that exist.

On the other hand, there are the people that want to be successful. These are the folks that, like my son, are willing to gel their like wolf ears — because they are curious to truly explore possibility, and they’re confident enough to handle any slack that comes with experimentation. These are the people that say, “We must stand out. We must be different. And, we already are different…and that’s not only okay, but it works to our benefit.”

Who are you? Right or successful?

We are only who we are — we’re not someone else. And, when we try to emulate even the most successful people, we can only hope to become a “knock-off.” On the other hand, if we allow ourselves to become the amplified versions of ourselves, we flourish. We thrive. And we become leaders in our space.

BTW, my wife won’t have another birthday for a full year. Wolf ears, here we come.

I didn’t know it then, but when I was just 14, I was as tall as I was going to get. Hit the brakes. I was done growing.

Back then, I carried an extra 15 pounds of body weight. I was bigger than most than almost all my classmates. And, I was strong as an ox (okay, that’s a stretch, but it feeds my ego so we’ll roll with it).

Here’s what doesn’t feed my ego…

At that point in my life, my passion was competitive martial arts. I’d fight in any tournament I could find. And, why shouldn’t I — I was nearly twice the size as my opponents. Winning was easy. Until, it wasn’t…

It was summer, 1988. The auditorium was filled with spectators. And, I lined up at ring-side to view my competition. Basically, a participant would fight until they lost. And, by the looks of my competition that day, this tournament would be a cakewalk. One kid was chubby. Another had his mother standing by his side saying things like, “You don’t have to be scared. These all look like very nice boys.” And, then, there were a few guys who may actually give me a run for the trophy — until I saw one of them point at me and say, “That’s the guy we need to beat.”

I loved that. I loved being the guy to beat. And, I assumed I pretty much had that trophy already sitting on my shelf.

And then, I heard this…

“Don’t count me out,” said a kid standing behind those two boys. He was an odd kid. Noticeably scrawny. Unevenly proportioned. And, schlumpy in posture.

“I might make it to the end,” he said, squirming his way into the conversation. “You can’t count me out.”

By every stretch of the imagination, this kid didn’t stand a chance. And, he happened to be my first opponent.

Nervously, the scrawny kid approached me in the center of the ring. Nervously, he extended a glove to show sportsmanship. And, when the referee said, “Let’s have a fair fight” to both of us, it almost sounded like a joke. Seriously, I felt like I should congratulate the poor kid simply for having the guts to stand toe-to-toe with me. I felt like I should ruffle his hair, and say, “Go get him champ.”

Then, “Fight!” screamed the Ref.

Okay, so this is where the story gets interesting. Like a switch, little Mr. Meek turned into a scrappy, screaming, ball of terror. He charged at me with an aggression that I have never witnessed — screaming at the top of lungs. His eyes were devilish. His demeanor was demonic. And, within a split second, his awkward swiftly found my stomach — a suprisingly strong kick that made me queazy.

Where did this kid come from? Obviously, from somewhere in the shadows, those places overlooked and underestimated. This kid came from a place of being written off, counted out, and ignored. He was the Dark Horse. And, even though I ended up winning, that kid fought harder, and more fiercely, than any opponent I ever faced.

Who are the Dark Horses in life? The term derives from 1831 when Benjamin Disraeli, one of England’s most distinguished prime ministers. Disraeli, also a novelist and poet, wrote about a horse race that had a surprise finish: “A dark horse which had never been thought of, and which the careless St. James had never even observed in the list, rushed past the grandstand in sweeping triumph.”

Today, the phrase “Dark Horse” is used to identify any unexpected winner. And, I would beg to argue that most “big winners” are, in fact, “Dark Horses.” They are the people willing to fight tooth and nail to achieve their goal. They are the scrappers at the back of the room who are willing to risk everything. They are the people who understand defeat, hardship, and how to overcome a situation even though the odds are highly stacked against their success.

I think about that schlumpy kid more often than I’d like to admit. I think about him still today as life’s “tournaments” evolve into things like status, finances, credential, and reputation. And, it is within this memory, that I often realize, that all of us, at some point in our lives, are that kid. We are him — standing toe-to-toe with people, and situations, that can crush us.

And, ironically, I love the feeling of being the underdog even more than I love being the “guy to beat.” Because that’s when we get to see our true character. That’s when we get to empty our pockets. That’s when we truly push ourselves into no-holds-barred competition.

“Don’t count me out.”

Look around. Like Bruce Lee, J.K. Rowlings, Oprah, or Lance Armstrong, most of us come into our dreams with a disadvantage. Most of us are attempting to play in a sandbox bigger than ourselves. Yet, only a few will have the guts to fight, scratch, kick and scream their way to victory.

Obviously this story can lead to many insights. However, it also poses an even bigger question for all of us to ponder; “who’s standing in the way of your trophy?”

You’ll face many opponents along the way. The biggest just might be yourself.