But where is that? Good question.

I’ve never considered myself a creative person. It’s the reason I’ve played guitar since I was 9 years old, and have never written a song. But sitting at my son’s hospital bedside last year after emergency brain surgery, I started to write - not because I had something to say, but because it was 3:00 am and I had doom-scrolled my way to the end of the internet. As 53 years of wayward emotions poured out, I discovered a part of myself I had lost. This newsletter is the next evolution of that. I don’t know where it goes, or even what it’s about. But I promise it’ll be fun. And gross. And sad. But mostly, fun.

Re-discovering my creativity

After my son’s surgery, I started journaling every day. Actually, they’re called Morning Pages, taken from the book, “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron. They differ from a journal in one critical way. You never read them, and you never show them to anyone. They’re designed for one purpose - to build the muscle of writing every day without judgment. If nobody ever sees it, how would you ever know if it was good or bad? And that’s the point. 3 pages, single-spaced, every day. And let me tell you - it works. It’s like exercise, I don’t do it every day even though I should. I don’t know if there is science behind it, but 3 pages is magic. Something happens between pages 2 and 3, call it an unlocking.

Have you ever tried to write a song? Or start a book? I have, many times. But I’ve never gotten more than a couple of lines in before looking down at the page and thinking, “that sucks.” And moving on to something else. Morning Pages are the antidote to that.

Contrary to popular opinion, most people are not afraid of failure. They’re afraid of judgment, mostly from ourselves. I look at my juvenile lyrics and think, “that’s not as good as anything Tom Petty wrote”, and I give up. This self-judgment is what holds most of us back from trying new things. Us humans are social beings. We’re hard-wired for belonging. We’ve survived this long only because we stick together (mostly). Our worst fear is being excluded. We used to be afraid of being cast out of the group, getting eaten by a saber-toothed tiger. Now we’re afraid of what strangers think of us on the internet.

Morning Pages to LinkedIn

Once I got comfortable putting my ideas to “paper”, I needed somewhere to put them. I’m not on any social media, but LinkedIn is where my customers are. So I started being a “content creator” there. Up until the surgery, it was pretty mundane stuff. I’d write about lessons learned and best practices around Customer Success. Yes, it’s as boring as it sounds - and my engagement reflected that. It’s really hard to find something new to say in a place that has a million people just like you. But something funny happened on my way from the hospital, I stopped giving a shit what anyone thought.

I started writing on LinkedIn about my son’s illness. I wrote about getting fired. And people woke up! “Oh, this is different, this is new”. My Morning Pages routine helped me clarify my thoughts and find the courage to share them with strangers. I’d share things even my closest friends didn’t know about me. And yes, I went too far. But I was starting to find my voice, to figure out what I could offer the world that no one else could. And it was all due to social media - sure, the business-version of social media - but social media nonetheless.

Writing for Al Gorithm

Here’s the sad fact about LinkedIn, and any social media. If you want to be seen, you have to play by a certain set of rules. The funny thing is, nobody knows what the rules are - which is how the social media platforms want it. They could tell you the rules of the game, but then everyone would know them and wouldn’t have to spend their lives on their platforms trying to figure them out. So when you write on LinkedIn, you’re constantly experimenting to see what works. And what works is some pretty weird, awkward ways of writing.

You need a catch title that borders on click-bait controversy.

You need a second line that draws people in.

You need a bright image, preferably with faces.

And you need to write in single sentences.

With lots of white space, for scrolling on mobile.

Now you can say “screw it”, and write in paragraphs like normal, educated people. But then the algorithm doesn’t show your content to anyone. They’re called impressions - and if you don’t play by the mystery rules, LinkedIn doesn’t give you any. You end up pouring your soul into content no one ever sees. Regardless of why you’re on LinkedIn - building a personal brand, selling services, finding a job - you need people to see you, or you’re wasting your time.

The Real Tragedy of Creating on LinkedIn

Creating on LinkedIn has been great for me. It’s helped me build my business and find my voice. The problem is it’s the only place I share my ideas. I was okay with that until now. Until I realized that the real risk of creating on social media and adhering to its strange rules, isn’t that it changes how you write. It changes how you think. I find myself walking through the world, chunking my ideas into single sentences and thinking of catchy titles. No, no, no - that can’t be good. I still need LinkedIn, but I need a new place to write like an adult.

Walking with Rick Rubin

So here we are. If you’re still not sure what the point of all this is, or what you can expect here - join the club. Rick Rubin in his book, “A Creative Act”, says that your audience comes last. Create for yourself, something that is authentically you, and put it into the world. What happens after that has nothing to do with you. And your people will find you. I hope he’s right.

And I hope you will join me.

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