Little Is A Big Friggin' Deal
This year I've written thousands and thousands of words in 39 blog posts. This is a 100% increase over what I produced last year. One hundred percent.
If I were a publicly traded company, I'd be winning with those numbers. I'd get a $1.2M bonus or something absurd like that.
Nevermind that last year I produced nothing, which accounts for the killer increase. The point is, after years of thinking about starting a blog and being scared as crap to share my writing, my fears finally bored me into doing something. And sometimes, doing something, anything productive, is something to be excited about. Only, no one really cares. My blog is nothing to get hyped up about because, well, this thing is just entirely too small to celebrate right now.
About a month ago, while attending a friend's magazine feature party, I struck up a conversation with a relative stranger about The Tended Garden--"relative" because we've met on a couple of occasions, but bump into each other so infrequently that I forget his name when I see him. Despite our infrequent passing, we speak on each occasion and he's always great to talk to.
I tell him with enthusiasm that I started something. The fact that I started is the basis of my entire story. I want to stay there for a little while and rehash all that I've done, what I've given up (Facebook for a year) to focus like a laser beam on launching this project.
He politely listens then asks me about my marketing strategy, the technology I'm using, what I should consider next, how to branch out into other things, and the equipment I'd need to make it big.
Don't you love it when people dream big for you and help expand your vision? I appreciated his genuine interest in my project, yet our conversation made me think about how we rarely stop to celebrate the littleness of life.
This project is huge on value, but little on scale and I'm proud of exactly what it is today. If one day my vision (and the friendly stranger's vision) comes to fruition, then now is actually the right time to celebrate--when things are small and manageable. When I can enjoy it. When I have time to have conversations with my subscribers surrounding singleness over 30. Now is the time to celebrate the littleness of it all.
Sometimes I think we dream big as if doing it big is the only point at which our achievements are worthy of praise. We just sail on pass what we've accomplished like we don't even see it or like it's not good enough or like the only thing that matters is the future. We reverse-hollywood ourselves. Instead of rejecting our past and thinking we're too good for it, we reject our present and think our future is too good to acknowledge what's happening right now.
Littleness is a big f-in deal.
Even though I'm using this blog as an illustration, it applies to any strides we make personally and professionally. I mean, I'm all for growth and planning for the future, but let's not forget to toast to the little sparks.
Photo credit: Darren Hoyland Compfight via Flickr