I’ve noticed that when I hold on to things, it doesn’t mean that they get better.
When I held on–and I held on so tight! –the writing didn’t get better, the launch of my newsletter didn’t get any better; it got longer. It almost disappeared into the abyss of doubts and worries, of perfections and neuroses; it almost wasn’t. I had to let go, give it up into the universe, frustrated, annoyed that I hadn’t captured it all, worried that I was saying too much; worried that I was saying too little;
And yet–the newsletter will get better, not in its first instance, not by a long shot; but it gets better because I let the first one go,
Let go into your mailboxes, that is,
And then started building the next one.
Create, make, send, ship, iterate, release, rejoice, build, refresh, create.
Puzzle, ponder, worry, fret, hammer, stammer,
pause,
breathe,
release.
It’s never perfect the first time. (It’s never perfect). My work gets better because I make it, and I move it, and I continue to create.
Chris Brogan reminds us: ship, though, but don’t ship shit. But when you’ve got something, and it’s pretty good, and you hold on too tight? That’s not shipping. That’s stalling. That’s waiting.
People have said this before. Ship, says Seth. Iterate. Make your art. (Real Artists Ship: Steve Jobs). It’s the same thing, learned one dose at a time one body at a time.
Let go.
Stop holding on.
Create, make, refine, release.