I Prefer Baby Yoda

People love Star Wars and people love Yoda and I’m not exactly here to rain on anyone’s parade but you know what?

“Do or do not. There is no try” is wrong.

Yeah, I said it.

I’ve seen the movie a couple of times, but if you haven’t: in this scene, Luke is trying to use the Force to get his spaceship out of the swampy area/thing. 

Luke doubts himself and he doubts Yoda because obviously lifting a spaceship out of a swamp by wiggling your fingers in an air-high 5 seems pretty impossible. 

And I think what Yoda’s saying is “If you don’t believe you can do it, you definitely won’t be able to do it.”

I get that part.

But... there IS most definitely TRY—and try and fail.

Even when you believe you can do something. (Which is exactly what happens, BTW. Because Luke fails and the spaceship remains in the swamp thingy until Yoda lifts it out for him.)

Maybe Yoda should have said, “Commit or commit not. There is no... kinda committing.”

But even that’s not quite it. When we’re trying to do something incredibly difficult, sometimes we do quit and then return to it later and commit again. That’s part of the road to “DO.”

And FURTHERMORE. YODA. Within the difference between “do or do not” and “commit or commit not” lies the WHOLE REASON people give up.

….

If you love “do or do not” and it inspires you, great. Like I said, I’m not here to rain on anyone’s parade… exactly. 

But for me, it equates accomplishment with “constant, unrelenting, forward progress.” They’re not the same thing.

You can accomplish without growing, constructing, striving, or conquering.

And when it comes to writing, if you equate “accomplishment” with “forward progress” you cut off your access to the tools you need to create the thing you actually want to create.

Because when it comes to writing, exploring is an accomplishment. Experimenting is an accomplishment

Sitting down to write can make you feel good, even if you don’t like what you’ve produced. And that experience of feeling good is an accomplishment.

People always want to talk about regimens and willpower and how some people just seem to be able to stick to things while other people are lazy.

But the ability to stick with things lies in finding a way to love the thing you’re doing so you keep doing it. And to be able to untangle that process from a product that you are dead set on.

Maggie

PS: I hate Yoda’s “do or do not” advice so much that I created Writer’s Cave, which happens every Wednesday at 12 pm PT on Zoom. If you’ve bought my book, you have access. You can find the Zoom link in your email.

If you want access to a place where accomplishment is not the same thing as constant, pressurized, unrelenting progress - join Writer’s Cave. It comes with my book, Be About Something. Get it here.

Lies, lies, lies

We’re all looking around going, “The world’s a fucking mess.”

Right? I know I am.

Geez Louise.

Thoughts:

A. You can look around and go, “The world’s a fucking mess… so what’s the point of me writing and publishing anything, let alone that thing that really matters deeply to me?”

B. Or you can look around and go, “The world’s a fucking mess… and so what am I waiting for?”

If you choose A, you’re done. You can quit reading, I guess?

But! I know you want to choose Team B. That’s usually how people find me.

And if you choose *B*... you’re just getting started, cupcake.

You’ve got the ideas. I know—I talk to you. (They’re really good ideas, by the way.)

If you’re anything like me and the women I know, you spend a lot of time torturing yourself over whether those ideas are the right ideas. A moment’s hesitation can snowball into rejoining Team A. We don't want that.

And so I posted my three big myths about writing:

• Only certain people should write.

• Good writing comes from a bolt of inspiration and you have no control over when that’ll strike.

• Writing has to be painful. (aka SUFFER for your art.)

Surprise! I got several more myths batted back to me in the comments.

These myths we repeat to ourselves about why we shouldn’t be on Team B… are so ingrained within us, yet they are also so easy to call BS on.

Like one of the comments I received:

“Only certain people with totally original special and unique perspectives should write AND that is not you.”

My response: As each person has a unique, unrepeated combination of personality, experience, and expertise, doesn’t each person fill this bill?

Who determines which “certain people” earn this distinction?

OK, you say, so maybe that one doesn’t hold water.

...

But how about this one (again from my comments): “My ideas aren’t original.”

Ah yes, the ole positioning ideas as though they can only exist in polarity: original and non-original.

Ahem: Why is an “original” idea that incorporates no input—no communal rumination or mulling over—more valuable than an idea that honors those thinkers who came before, and one’s own contemporaries? (Hint: it’s not)

While we’re asking questions: Why do we venerate originality as a superior form of creation to collaborative work? (Hint: patriarchal White supremacy.)

Anyway! Toss me another myth that shuts you down and shuts you up because you know what? 

I CAN GO ALL DAY.

I will bat this shit down with one hand tied behind my back and the other hand playing Candy Crush.

And I love doing it! (I even create a file for each client called a Resistance Log where I catalog every time she tells me why she can't do it, and leave little notes about why the myth is a myth and not the truth.)

….

Because like I said, I know you have the ideas. You’ve got the “what.” What you want to say, what the world needs to hear.

The "how" is tripping you up. It’s not as easy as just “start writing.”

It’s about making the choice.

When you choose Team B, that doesn’t mean you’ll write every day. Maybe it means you’ll write a lot and then you’ll set it aside for weeks, and then you’ll talk to someone awesome in your life about it and they’ll encourage you to return to it.

Maybe it does mean you set aside 30 minutes a day, or 2 hours once a week, and just write and have a damn good time doing it.

The matter at hand is not to commit to a writing schedule that you have no idea whether you can maintain. It is choosing B, and re-choosing it each day, and knowing that means you’re at the beginning of something.

And remember: that A Team is a dead end.

PS: If you ARE struggling with what to write about, or that feels like part of what holds you back, my Be About Something package is still on sale. Get all the details on my site.

How to Avoid Feedback That Will Derail Your Writing (Part 1 of 3)

In Be About Something, I talk about how going public with your writing allows you to collect vital feedback that helps you refine your Big Idea quickly.

Way more quickly than batting the idea around the racquetball court known as your brain.

But...

When some people read your writing, they’ll give you feedback you should absolutely ignore if you want to move forward.

But when other people read your stuff, they'll provide critiques that are hard to hear but vital to your journey forward.

So, how do you tell the difference?

I’ve got some guidelines to consider, tailored to where you are in the writing process.

Here’s guideline numero uno.

--

1. On first-draft feedback: A couple of weeks ago I was in Holly’s poetry pop-up workshop, when she talked about whom to show your work to, before you publish but after you’re feeling done - or done enough.

She said it’s important to pick people who are encouraging in general, and who are always rooting for your highest good in particular.

Instead, we often pick people to read our first drafts who are “experts.” Those are the wrong people to start with.

Especially if you’re a quivering pile of mush when it comes to your work.

And who isn’t?

Her advice reminded me of a story.

Did you know that Laura Linney’s dad was a playwright? He was also a teacher in several theater programs. (Also, his name was Romulus, which is such an odd name, but anyway!)

Laura Linney was talking about her father on the WTF podcast. (Epsisode 1118 if you're curious.)

He sounds like he was a "difficult" man. (I'm being generous here.)

So it wasn't too surprising when, a couple of weeks later, a listener wrote in saying that Romulus, ripped his writing to shreds in front of the entire class 30 years ago and as a result, the listener never wrote another play. EVER.

Here's my advice: Don’t show your first draft to Romulus Linney. Easy, since he’s dead.

But still, don’t show your first draft to anyone of his… ilk, OK?

If you suspect you’re in front of a Romulus, just tell him you didn’t complete the assignment and take the F.

Don’t let "difficult" experts see your first draft! It’s a one-way ticket to agonizing over whether you deserve a seat at the table. (You do.)

...

That’s guideline 1! I have 2 more I'm cooking up, so consider this post 1 of 3.

I welcome your feedback. Heh.

Are we ready to kill nice?

It took me a long time to arrive at this place where I root for the Death of Nice.

When I was a little girl, my mom was a lot of wonderful, admirable things. But she was not nice. Which embarrassed me.

Why couldn’t she just be nice to my friends’ moms?

For one thing, she was busy. She was a single mom. She worked a lot.

For another, she was socially awkward and she didn’t like to make small talk or really to talk at all to people she didn’t know well.

She didn’t have the impulse to fake interest.

She didn’t teach me how to pretend to care.

I didn’t learn from her how to tell white lies to preserve other people’s feelings.

I learned how to do these things later, which kept them from becoming ingrained habits.

And that's evolved into an asset now that I spend so much time on the internet.

• People DM me asking for an hour to pick my brain “whenever”? Here’s a link to my Paypal!

• I forgot to email someone back for a week and I really don't have a good excuse? Just fess up and say I forgot, but I'm here now.

• Parent whom I've had smile-and-wave interactions with at my kid’s school posts racist shit on Instagram? BLOCK.

…

Nice keeps us from stating the obvious.

Which brings me to a statement of the obvious: nice is racist. “Nice” bolsters our systems of racial oppression.

Some of us white women say we really don’t like to talk about politics. The reality is we don’t talk about politics because we believe we have every right to ignore the suffering of others. It’s not just our right, it’s one of our duties as beneficiaries of white supremacy.

But many of us white women pretend that that's not the reason we don’t talk about politics. Instead, we don’t talk about politics because the discussions might evolve into conversations that are... Not. Nice.

We want to keep it civil. Keep it agreeable. Keep everyone feeling comfortable? Right? RIGHT? 

So.

1. I want to kill nice because it helps us white people perpetuate racism.

2. I looked up nice in the dictionary just in case I was missing any nuance about its definition. Polite. Pleasing. Agreeable.

Uh huh.

M-w.com lists an “obsolete” definition of nice:

6 obsolete : TRIVIAL

A-ha!

Is that an "obsolete" definition? Maybe not.

Maybe that’s reason #2 that I want to kill nice.

It's hard to Be About Something when you prioritize being nice because nice is trivial.

No one’s dying wish is to be remembered for being nice. Kind, maybe. Loving, yes. But nice?

Not nice.

The Tab Can

I struggle with the Tape, which is my name for the voice in my head that basically screams WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE every time I write something that I intend to publish. I still deal with that voice every week when I’m writing this letter. It’s part of the process.

I have a few coping mechanisms to get past the Tape. The Tab Can Method, which is a simple method for generating a lot of ideas, is one of my favorites.

Once upon a time…


Fifteen years ago, when I was 24 (!) and attending the Columbia School of Journalism pursuing my master’s degree, I took a core curriculum class called Reporting & Writing... One. “RW1,” as it was known.

My hazy recollection is that RW1 was a dull, hours-long weekly seminar. Our professor was Steve Isaacs. He was nuttier than Cracker Jack and a creep, too.

But he contained multitudes and so he also had plenty of interesting ideas. I remember once hearing him coach a (white, male) student who said the newspaper he wanted to work for was in a hiring freeze. 

“Eh, they’re always in a hiring freeze, but if they really want you, they’ll find a way. Figure out why they can’t live without you and tell ’em.” 

Good advice. 

Anyway! I remember sitting in the Computer Lab (remember those?) on the top floor of the “J-school” building on Broadway just south of 116th St., when he put his can of Tab on a table in the center of the room. It wasn’t Diet Coke or Diet Rite. It was always Tab. (Did you know they still make Tab?)

He put the Tab on the table and ordered us to devise 100 news story ideas. Those were the instructions. “Come up with a hundred story ideas from this can of Tab.”

He may as well have asked me for a second installment of the 10 Commandments. Commandments 11 - 20. I was totally stumped.

I learned later that he was really teaching the “5Ws” of journalism - who, what, where, when, and why.

• Why do they still make Tab?

• Where do they make Tab?

• Who works at the factory?

• What ended up happening in that ’80s saccharin cancer scare?

And so forth. I guess Isaacs taught it this way because the Tab should have made it fun. Or, maybe, the Tab could have made it fun, if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with wondering why I would waste my time on it.

I don’t remember how many ideas I came up with, but it wasn’t anywhere close to 100. It was probably more like 15. I didn’t loosen up. I didn’t engage my curiosity. I let my inner Tape lead. I.e.:

Tab?? Who cares about Tab? When the f*** is he going to drop the serious knowledge that I practically sold a kidney to pay the tuition for?

(About a decade later Planet Money created a popular, award-winning series based on essentially the same premise, but replaced “this can of Tab” with “this t-shirt.” Now Alex Blumberg is a millionaire many times over.)

But I digress. Or do I?

Probably the person who is most surprised that Alex Blumberg is a millionaire is Alex Blumberg.

Or IS HE?

If you listen to Alex Blumberg talk about founding his company, he talks about the idea. Sure, he’s worried it won’t work. He’s worried it won’t be a success. But he’s confident enough to explore the idea.

Even when he realizes he doesn’t know how to create a pitch deck for investors.

Even when he realizes he doesn’t know how to name a company.

Like any smart white guy, he found someone else who was an expert in that stuff and had them do it. But he had the idea and he engaged his own curiosity about where it would lead.

And like Isaacs advised… he argued for why his idea was one that people couldn’t live without.

It’s something that cis men - especially white, cis men - learn to do, are encouraged to do, are mentored to do, all the time.

Believe they can offer something that no one else can. Believe that they bring something to the table that is undeniable, and irresistible, and deserving.

...

I feel myself teetering dangerously toward a lesson that concludes, “If you only believe in your ideas, you’ll make millions.”

Barf. That’s not the takeaway.

Actually, it’s that kind BS leap that keeps white men in positions of power and influence while the rest of us wonder what’s wrong with us instead of poking holes in a system that keeps us in our places.

What I do want to do is leave with you the permission to let your curiosity lead you. You don’t need an engraved invitation but if you get one! (like I did when Isaacs asked us to write those 100 ideas), don’t be so quick to turn it down.

Let your own curiosity lead you.

It doesn’t always (or even usually) lead to millions, but not following it always leads nowhere, and always results in nothing.

What if No One Listens?

I was listening to the radio in my car a year and a half ago. (I could have sworn it was December 2019, but the internet says 2018 which is… huh.) Anyway, I was listening to the radio in my car a year and a half ago when I came across an interview with N.K. Jemisin.

I had just finished reading The Fifth Season so I listened.

She said about the book,

“What I wanted to play with was the concept of, ‘When do we consider an apocalypse to have begun and ended?’ Because in a lot of cases, what's considered an apocalypse for some people is what other people have been living every day. It's not the apocalypse, it's just, it's an apocalypse for you.” [Italics mine.]

...

Now, let’s move from the soothing sounds of NPR to the dumpster fires of Facebook. I have an FB friend who posted to his feed a couple of days ago.

He said, “The idolatry of ignorance is consuming more and more Americans. How many are there? Are they a critical mass that will eventually do the rest of us in? Sure feels like it.” [Italics also mine.]

My Facebook friend is a white American man.

So, you know. I have questions.

Has the apocalypse begun for him? How would he know if it had? Was he unaware of the apocalypses that had already begun before and during his lifetime, or simply inured to them?

Yet, being a white person with many privileges myself, I also hear him. I, too, get really anxious about ::gestures wildly yet listlessly::

ALL. OF. THIS.

Many mornings I wake up so afraid that I feel I literally need to go from supine to upright just to allow the anxiety to drain out my toes and into the earth.

I wake up afraid of what my Facebook friend said—of getting finally, irreversibly done in by it all.

But I’ve also started to realize that my fear comes from a place of entitlement that I can’t inhabit anymore if I want to live a just life.

Because what my white guy friend is saying is that he feels the fire licking his feet. It didn’t much bother him when the fire was beyond his horizon. Not only was he not scared then, but it was pretty easy for him to ignore. So easy that it felt like the fire wasn’t alight at all.

I could bash this white guy some more. (Let’s face it—it’s fun. And easy.) But you know what?

SAME. I AM THE SAME.

In years past, I may have smelled a hint of smoke (like when I heard what N.K. Jemisin said) but mostly I just thought, “I’ll steer clear of the fire, and... I’m good!”

That’s not justice.

And it’s not the story I want to tell.

It’s also why I wrote Be About Something during the pandemic. I don’t think I could have written it before now because I don’t think I understood before just how important it is to help more people articulate their Big Idea.

Thanks to so many people who have had the courage to speak,

We know there has never been a singular narrative.

There has been force. The dominant culture has forced or acculturated people to stay silent.

There have been those who have screamed at the top of their lungs anyway, but remained unlistened to, belittled, or persecuted.

Those of us who descend from people who have been forced or acculturated to silence have to reassert our right to use our voices. And we have to expect that we won’t always be listened to.

My white American guy friend has a story. He’s got an angle from which he’s viewing (gesture listlessly with me now) ...

ALL. OF. THIS.

But each of us has our angle, too. Not just on the problems we see but on the ways in which we can help.

The world needs to hear all of it! The whole story. So, keep going.

M

PS: You can still get Be About Something, with the Writer’s Cave bonus and 1-on-1 time with me. If you want to crystallize your Big Idea so you can use it to write a book, start a podcast, create a new product, or just to say something important that no one else is saying: Get Be About Something here.

Let me draw you a picture.

My voice when I write for you is a combination of 3 things:

1. My personality

2. My expertise

3. My experience

Like this!

Venn Diagram:

(If you know me, you know that I actually believe the concept of voice is more complicated than this. Because I make EVERYTHING MORE COMPLICATED. See: personality.)

But setting that aside! I’ve been kicking around ways to encapsulate and simplify explaining the work of writing for thought leadership.

This Venn diagram has been in my head for a while. When I started writing publicly on my own platform, the Venn diagram looked more like this...

Venn Diagram, Version 1:

• I held back my personality and I made it smaller because I was afraid people wouldn’t like me and that my personality would undermine my authority.

• I held back a lot of specifics about my life and work experience because I was terrified my experience would be invalidated by someone with more experience.

• Expertise I was OK with sharing because some external system had bestowed it. (Advanced degrees, fancy titles, work at impressive-sounding companies, etc.)

I found that if I turned down the dials on my personality and my experience, naturally that voice target got very, very small. It was really to hit that target.

....

And when I missed the target, which was easy to do since it was so tiny, the writing was uniformly lame.

I was boring and general. I couldn’t tell my stories because I was afraid to share my experience. I couldn’t tell my GOOD stories because I was hiding my personality.

So to develop my voice I had to take more risks with incorporating my personality and my experience, which was hard.

But if you’re wondering why your writing so often misses the mark or sounds boring and lame, check how low you have the dials set on sharing experience and personality in your writing.

Patriarchal white supremacy tells us that as womxn we are automatically less authoritative, which causes us to miniaturize and flatten our personalities.

It tells that the degrees and awards and fancy titles and promotions (the things that white people have the easiest access to) are the valuable things - and the path of our experience is not.

And we have to start standing up and saying no to all that.

She didn't need guts

A few weeks ago, I shared about a 16-minute documentary, Ten Meter Tower. I know you didn’t watch it, OK? You should watch it. I mean, read this email first but then click on the link at the bottom to watch.

ANYWHO, the filmmakers set up an experiment where they asked random people to jump off a… ten meter tower, into a pool. (Ten meters = 33 feet).

They filmed those random people at the top of the tower, struggling with indecision about whether to jump. Nothing would happen if they decided not to jump. They got paid either way for participating in the film.

....

About halfway in, a woman stands alone on the diving platform. Actually she is bending over, hands on her knees, breath ragged with fear.

She stands up resolutely, and walks to the edge. Then, just as resolutely, she retreats.

“No!” she says. She walks to the edge again. Again she retreats.

With her fists balled up by her sides, she spits, “No. I don’t have the guts!”

<img src="http://static1.squarespace.com/static/6603f21fd97c7914d466c100/662a25182067a541eec7f311/662a25562067a541eec80839/1714038102725/i-dont-have-the-guts.jpg?format=original" alt="i-dont-have-the-guts.jpg" />

She returns to the ladder to climb back down. She pauses for 5 seconds on the top step in total silence.

Then she’s back on the diving platform. She bends over again, hands on knees, breath ragged. She stands. She inhales deeply and exhales.

She opens her eyes, walks to the edge, and takes that. One. Extra. Step.

That one extra step that separates walking to the edge from jumping off the platform. That one extra step that separates not doing it from doing it.

Maybe she didn’t have guts. But, that’s the point.

SHE DIDN’T NEED GUTS.

She needed to take one extra step. And she did.

…

We don’t have to be ready. We don’t have to be “done” wrestling with our demons. We don’t have to be a gutsy person, or any other type of person. So what do we need in order to take that step?

The more I ask my fellow womxn entrepreneurs, "Why don't you write?", the more I notice their absolute terror around publishing.

Fear stands in the way of taking the next step, and that fear is real and it's powerful.

I know because I just got the cover design of my book back from my designer yesterday and I KNOW the fear. It took me almost an entire day to bring myself to open the PDF proof.

A cover makes the book so permanent! So un-take-back-able.

But then I remember, I don’t need guts. I just need to take the next step.

I have used my own process to clarify exactly what that next step is. I have defined what I want to be known within my industry, and I know how this book will help me claim that space.

I know what the next step is, and so I can take the next step.

Maggie

PS: Yes, the book, the book! The book is coming out very soon! Like as soon as I can bring myself to carefully read through it and make sure it looks good! So just a few weeks from now.

If you already know you’d like help with clarifying what you want to be known for so you can take your next step, you can book a 1-hour strategy session with me. Just hit reply and I will send you the link.

PPS: Watch the movie.

What's next.

Very little is actually being asked of us, as white people.

To start, we are being asked one thing, really:

Sit through an entire conversation where we hear about and examine how we are benefiting from racist systems that were created to protect and serve us.

Don’t stand up in the middle of the conversation screeching, “BUT I’M NOT A RACIST!!1!1!!” and run from the room like our hair is on fire.

That’s the initial request. Here is a take on that request from Osheta Moore.

And I will speak for myself when I say that that initial request scares me. It’s sad that it does, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel scary to engage in conversations where I will learn about the ways in which I, as a white woman, have benefited from the oppression of other people.

Very little is actually being asked of me. And I am scared. I hear there’s a book that helps white people sort through that problem.

...

Over the past few days, I’ve decided what I’ve committed my business to do from now on. As a result of what I’ve learned, this is what I commit to:

• Recognizing there are barriers for BIPOC and other marginalized women in this society without pretending I know what their experience is like, or pretending like I’m an expert on how they can address and process their experiences

• Listening to BIPOC and women from other marginalized groups who are experts in marketing, branding, and online business.

• Reading stories of women from all kinds of marginalized groups and how they have gone public with their Big Idea

• Featuring the voices and opinions of BIPOC and women from other marginalized groups on my platform

• Paying black women for their expertise

Maggie

PS: Thinking critically about race is not something I as a white person was doing very much until about two weeks ago. As a result, the last two weeks have overwhelmed me.

Here’s a great list of ideas for how not to burn out that I will be adapting to my life so that I can keep doing this thinking and take action month after month, year after year, for the rest of my life. https://twitter.com/TatianaTMac/status/1268909345141473281. (Thanks to my friend Justine for tweeting this list, which is how I saw it.)

Oh, I thought you meant those other white people.

Hey,

I have some resources to share with you, which I’ll link at the bottom.

First, let me explain why I’m sharing them.

…

I have watched this Toni Morrison interview clip before, and I caught it again yesterday:

View this post on Instagram

If another non-Black person asks me “what should I do about it?” this is the face and the answer you’re gonna get. Toni Morrison said it 30 years ago, I said it 2 years ago.⁣ ⁣ DO YOU HEAR US THOUGH??⁣ ⁣ #YOUFIXIT ⁣ #YOUDOYOURPART #IVEBEENDOINGMINE

A post shared by Bozoma Saint John (@badassboz) on Jun 1, 2020 at 7:54am PDT

In it, she says, “If you can only be tall because somebody’s on their knees, then you have a serious problem. And my feeling is that white people have a very, very serious problem. And they should start to think about what they should do about it. Take me out of it.”

“Yes!” I said in times past when I watched this clip. “So as a white person, I need to get together with some other good white people so we can talk about how we are going to get those bad white people over there to do something about their bad, white racism!” I didn’t put it in those words.

But those were my actions, and I know actions speak louder than words.

I didn’t want Morrison’s words to be about me. She couldn’t be talking about me! I was “examining my consciousness,” as she puts it in the interview. … Wasn’t I?

No, I was not. I am moving forward now to do a better job. For my business, that means I am examining my services and my marketing and the ways in which they have made black women, indigenous women, and women of color feel excluded.

Two articles that you might find helpful if you are white and you are thinking about how you can do more.

This one: Black and Brown People Have Been Protesting for Centuries. It's White People Who Are Responsible for What Happens Next.

And this one: Why White Parents Need to Do More Than Talk to Their Kids About Racism

As several people have pointed out over the past few days, our systems - housing, justice, health care, education - are not broken. They were designed this way. That’s the part that’s broken.

I have realized that I cannot fully contribute to the work of breaking and rebuilding them without holding myself accountable for my reluctance to examine them because I benefit from them.

M