Field notes from the editing room

Hello Reader,

You're not going to feel like doing it all the time.

Creating. Making. Writing.

It won't always feel good either.

Especially when we want it to be amazing right out of the gate.

Genius to spill out of us like blood. An endless flow of brilliance. And when that doesn't happen, the channel can get blocked.

Some days, it will feel like pulling out your own wisdom teeth.

You'll have to squeeze in creating between meetings. Type ideas on your notes app and save them for later, when they lose some of their fizz. Or you might be unable to capture the idea when it arrives, leaving it to find someone more available.

Just create anyway. Nothing fancy, nothing 'good', just something.

Something that has meaning for you. Let it represent something true and real.

An expression of what you feel, wearing your t-shirt inside out. Label sticking out. No AI polishing. Or editing the marrow out of it. Throwing bones on the floor like a Viking at a feast.

Offer it up. Give it to people. Maybe they devour it, maybe they spit it out. At least, they tried it (if you're lucky).

That's it. No formula. No demands. No special conditions needed to create.

Do it when between meetings or when you're caught in your feelings. When you're more crunchy than smooth. When you wish you were flawless, but deep inside know the imperfections make your work felt.

Recently, I've been catching myself wanting it to be really good. Starting to edit while I'm still creating it. And that's a rookie mistake. Who's to judge what's good? What if my shit is someone else's gold?

My job is to show up to the page with an open heart, an intention to give what someone might need, and make art - essays, field notes, business - that matter to me. And have a blast while doing it.

This desire to make it good is a protection mechanism. I want to make it bulletproof to avoid injury or insult. I drain the juice out of it, all the sugary liquid sucked dry.

When I shared my audiobook draft, an early reviewer told me: "The outtakes, the swearing, all those frustrated moments were hilarious. Save that stuff—it's priceless." Funny how those raw, unfiltered moments, never meant to see the light of day, created connection.

As my exposure grows, and I'm getting 2-star and 5-star reviews for my book, I am feeling vulnerable. Editing my work more thoroughly and spending time arguing with Claude AI because it is not living up to my editorial standards, instead of just writing, softly editing, and hitting send.

I'll have to just ship it, remove the bulletproof vest, and show up with barely any makeup because I don't have the capacity to spend hours making it 'perfect'.

Not only in my writing, but across the board - in my business, book, and life.

Maybe the next big stretch depends on letting go of how I want myself and my work to be perceived and received. Trusting deeply in the holy trifecta of the creative (me), source, and community.

My spidey sense tells me the beautiful mess creates connection.

Maybe my 70% is 120%? Who knows? But I will have to make peace with good enough, trusting that my people will get what they need from it, even if a sentence could have been tightened, some fat sliced off, or my metaphors ran wild.

This is what it will take to say YES to all the opportunities in the room and not burn out or lose sight of enjoying the process of making, creating, building, AND playing.

Once we start putting our work out there, we might reach for the bulletproof vest, but that only creates distance, and blocks our creativity. Sometimes, blood needs to spill.

I'm choosing raw over ready.

Showing up sweaty instead of showered.

Hanging out in the messy middle where my fingerprints are still visible and the clay hasn't hardened yet.

Make something today.

Not perfect.

Not even good.

Just felt. And share it.

I'm so here for it.

Keep creating,