Day 24: In which I reveal my hidden motive

I really don’t want to write this. In fact, after today, I’m going to go back and count how many days I have been writing and posting to my blog, and see if it’s been 30 days yet.

Because if it’s been 30 days, I’m switching channels.

This was *supposed* to be my little private experiment, that was going on, but no one knew about. But not only are people reading it; people I know are reading it. (Hi mama!) And people are tweeting it and reposting it on Facebook (Hi S and the rest of you!)

I feel kinda naked and exposed. Like people can see inside my inner world. And while I’m not worried about being judged, I also desire to retreat into privacy.

I don’t say everything I am thinking about here. I am editing, precisely because I know it’s going on my blog, and I’m not talking only to myself.

My dark shit doesn’t make it in here.

Which is okay, actually. It’s also okay that I have a distinction between my public self, my private self, and my secret self. I’ve been tinkering with allowing more of my private self into these posts, but knew I would get to this place at some point. The place where I say, ‘okay… that was fun… now what?!’

One of the ideas I’m kicking around is that writing something like this daily is a good way to reconnect yourself with your self. Something I’ve noticed in my work is that many people aren’t actually listening to themselves when they talk. (There is a voice here that says, “actually, they don’t know how.”)

One of the things I do for my clients is to listen to them, and then present their words back to them in a way that resonates with other people. Like they’ve been sitting at the edge of the village, and I say ‘what if you said it this way instead?’ which builds a firepit by their outpost (in the wilderness?) for the people to gather around them.

I once heard listening described as a bowl. I love this image. When we listen to someone else, we are actually creating a space for their words and being to coalesce in the world.

No listening, no being.

Along with listening, there is witnessing. I’ve noticed there’s a thing where people tell one another in new agey circles: I see you. (Hi TNV!) I must admit that language doesn’t resonate with me. It feels kinda clunky and too earnest by half for me. But I’ve been lucky to have the experience of other people witnessing me, just as I am, and so even if the language is clunky, the experience is precious. Not precious in the sense of too sweet. Precious in the sense of rare, valuable and dear.

I started writing a journal when I was 13. I really dove into the practice in earnest when I was in high school. And on and off for the past 20 years, I’ve written to myself and to god about my life.

This is how I learned to listen to my life and the inherent goodness that is expressing itself all around me.

Okay, now I’m tearing up.

I give thanks and feel damn grateful to have had a place where I can say whatever it was I was feeling and seeing and sensing and experiencing all these years. My writing to myself has been my confidante, my companion, and my teacher. It has helped me develop the ability to listen to life, to myself, and on my best days, to other people.

I believe it’s what has given me an ear for dialogue, a sense of the dramatic, and a leg up on storytelling.

It’s also what has helped me keep track of myself and find my voice.

It’s how I learned that I am a co-creator with life. That life is a series of stories, and we get to write our own. Dang, that’s corny. But it’s true.

One of the things I tell people who hire me to write their websites is that the website copy is actually an artifact of the journey they are on. My work isn’t actually writing marketing copy for people; it’s actually having a series of conversations where I ask people what they want, and what they are ready to bless and release, and what they seek to experience instead.

I take those inputs, and infuse it into their website copy.

And then, I tell them, when they try to slide back and connect with an older version of their ideal client — that they’ve outgrown or no longer love serving — they look at their website as a reminder of where they are and where they are going.

I have the gift of hearing the difference between where people have been, and where they are going. And I’m able to separate those two states, bow to the past, and language them into the new.

Which isn’t actually new. It’s just emerging or unfolding. But that’s a conversation for another day.

So I’ll be the first to admit that this is witchy work. Which is why, when an old client asked me to help her get into the heads of her ideal clients but wasn’t willing to show up to shut up and write, I bowed and excused myself as her guide.

Something deep within me has clicked into place.

It’s something like this: for the past 7 years, I’ve been the one listening to other people, and giving them back the words to express what they do so it resonates with their community.

But there’s only one of me, and this process has gotten too slow. It’s become clear to me that I’m slowing it down. I’m the bottleneck.

I’ve been on the prowl for a new way — a tool or technology — that allows people to do for themselves (and for one another) the service that I’ve been doing for them.

This listening and reflecting back.

This sonar signal receiving and sending back out into the world.

And my hypothesis is that writing these free flow pages daily is a way to off gas any negative emotional charge around writing (although I also expect it will take some directly into the belly of the beast), encounter the gremlin voices that appear when we write for others, and begin to explore new and creative ways of facing those feelings and gremlins with curiosity and playfulness.

For a few years, I’ve been teaching my students to get a consistent content habit — read: newsletter and blog — under their belts before attempting writing marketing copy.

This is because I’ve watched too many newbie business owners attempt writing sales copy before they have established a connection with the people they want to serve.

Wow, okay I have a lot to say here. #contentidea

I am not a great explainer of this point. Usually because I get mad at someone who is attempting to “sell people” before they have located a real felt connection with those people.

I am typing with my gorilla fingers right now; I am the loudest typist ever when I feel strongly about something. I feel strongly about this.

It makes me CRAZY that the prevailing winds of the internet marketplace are about selling stuff through writing, with zero acknowledgement of the underlying relationship, rapport and trust you must have in place for that to actually work.

I have no problem with sales.

I just want it to occur in the context of relationship.

Real relationship.

Not the bull shit stuff.

So the way I’ve looked at it is this: don’t ask for money in writing unless: 1) you have a consistent content habit in place and 2) you can ‘feel’ the connection with your audience.

If you don’t have this, don’t talk to me about selling stuff to people with your writing.

But lately, what I’ve been seeing is that it’s still much to ask people to ‘feel’ the connection with other people in their writing… even in their content (which I would argue is ‘lower stakes’ then attempting to get people to buy stuff).

What I’ve also been in inquiry around is how I learned how to feel into the connection with what my readers and what other people’s readers are feeling.

And when I track down into it, I see that I didn’t start with other people.

I started with writing to myself.

So that’s got me curious. What if the first thing people do with me is a sort of initiation ritual? A 30 day commitment to write to themselves, for 15 minutes a day. Not sales copy. Not blog or newsletter content. Not for content that other people will read. Just a date with their private self (and maybe even secret self), to show up and write whatever floats across their mind.

That’s the initiation. That’s what begins to stitch people back into their selves. That’s what helps them begin to listen to the stories they are telling themselves and to others. That’s what helps them start to burn through the ‘saying a bunch of words but not communicating effectively’ phenomenon (that we all go through when we haven’t been listened to properly, myself included).

I consider myself an artist, and creative. And one of the things I’ve always had in my life is a creative practice - both private and public. I’ve written for the theater. I’ve performed on stage, both acting and improv. I’ve had the experience of having my writing published, performed by others, and promoted by organizations and institutions. I’ve been a part of performing groups and writer’s groups. I’ve taken writing classes.

And I’ve had my own writing practice and usually separately, my own creative summon-the-muse practice (right now it’s cooking and sex).

But what I suspect is that there are many, many business owners who don’t fancy themselves artists or creative, at least not in the way it’s narrowly defined.

So the problem is they are jumping into Phase III - writing sales copy — without mastering Phase II - writing to connect and impact — or Phase I — writing to get it out of you/writing to listen to yourself — first.

Hmm. Hmm. Hmm.

I’m about to roll up my sleeves and get to work on that.

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