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I’m a hockey fan, however, I’m not an NHL Network subscriber.
I like knockin back a couple of cold ones as much as the next guy, but I intentionally don’t do it as much as I’d like.
I’m kinda diggin this whole blogging thing, but I’m not about to post something in accordance with some perceived industry standard.
Why not? Because every now and then I like to go out and have a couple of cold ones and watch a hockey game.
In the February issue of Success Magazine publisher Darren Hardy spoke with marketing maestro Seth Godin.
As yo may very well know Mr. Godin is the author of thirteen international best sellers and has been touted, “America’s Greatest Marketer” by American Way Magazine.
“His blog,” says Darren Hardy, “Is perhaps the most popular ever written by any single mortal on God’s green earth.”
Midway through the interview Godin points out the ‘remarkable’ fact that he’s posted a blog (almost) everyday for the past seven years.
And when asked what’s the one step that we, the small businessperson, should take toward becoming an effective and influential marketer in the 21st century, his straightaway response is, “Start a blog and blog every single day.”
“You don’t have to tell anybody,” he says, “You just have to write something every single day about your work and why it’s interesting.”
“And if you can’t come up with a reason why your work is interesting, do different work.”
Now I’m all for consistency, for working diligently at that which you care emphatically about.
In fact it’s this type of unflinching persistence that is at the very foundation of Ingzig.
It’s also a personal promise I made to myself several years back, one that as I’ve stated time and time again, has helped change my life for the better.
Yet in all honesty I just don’t see the need—or the value—in sharing this with everyone every day all the time,
Because frankly, it’s just not that interesting.
Nevertheless, I have absolutely no intentions of doing ‘different’ work.
THE WORK SPEAKS FOR ITSELF
Clay Collins is a world-renowned Internet marketer who grew up on his grandparents’ citrus farm in rural southern California. At the age of 15 he started his first software company and has been practicing entrepreneurship ever since.
What I learned from my grandfather was that not all things look glamorous from the outside. And that a lifetime of improving and perfecting something as simple as growing citrus trees could truly be an art that affects numerous lives.
For 70 years my grandfather focused on one thing, and that was to get better and better at growing trees.
For 70 years he was beautifully obsessed with growing the best citrus trees that he possibly could. Yet my grandfather didn’t have to write manifestos on growing trees.
He didn’t have to tell his story to others about why he did what he did, or artificially infuse his work with meaning.
And he certainly didn’t have to start a social movement about it on twitter.
I recently read a book entitled, What I Talk about When I Talk about Running by Haruki Murakami.
Now I’m no runner but I must confess the more I read the more difficult I found it was to put it down.
Mainly because the focus wasn’t entirely on running.
Described as equal parts training log, travel log, and reminiscence, this180 page memoir circumscribes a twenty-three year long journey that leaves the reader with infinitely more than just a hair-trigger desire to go out and invest in a pair of brand new Nike’s.
And ya see that’s precisely my point.
Had this been some day-to-day account on the rigors of long distance running I guarantee ya the author would’ve lost me long before the five-mile marker.
Because on my damn-that-sure-was-interesting barometer it tends to rank right up there with the everyday operations of citrus tree farming.
Hell ya might as well strap me naked to an all leather recliner on an August afternoon and force me to sit through some two-bit slide show of the neighbor’s family vacation frame by ^@%^# frame:
This is us arriving at Disney World. (click)
This is us getting out of the car at Disney World. (click)
This is us checking into the Disney Resort Hotel at Disney World. (click)
Get the visual?
But hey, just because Junior’s stroller incident with the ill-humored Mickey Mouse impersonator isn’t all that interesting to me or the other 7 billion people on the planet doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go to Disney World right?
Of course not, because as we’re all well aware it’s invariably these intimate and unexpected little moments that make life so special, so memorable and meaningful.
DON’T HARP ON THE CARP
Forgive me. I don’t mean to be a wet blanket.
It’s just that I get a little rattled at the idea that whenever things get a bit blasé the first suggested course of action is to move on or bail out.
I’m not contending that if you don’t find what you do interesting you’ll have a tough time stayin with it.
I’m simply pointing out that if you plan on stayin with it there’s gonna be some things that aren’t all that interesting.
It’s been said that one of the great moments in literary history came in 1936 when Ernest Hemmingway, while trout fishing, caught a carp and decided not to write about it.
Now there’s a welcomed bit of editorial wisdom.
It’s also a befitting analogy don’t ya think?
Because in a way we’re all trout fishing.
We’re all looking to land that prized fish.
And in preparation—in anticipation—of baggin that bad boy we need to steadily stand at the ready.
Yet make no fish bones about it, no matter how well prepared, informed, or equipped you might be, you’re bound to snag an occasional carp along the way.
It’s a part of fishin, a part of the process.
And understandably just as no one wants to hear some tall tale about the one that got away no one really wants to know about the boatload of bottom feeders you tossed back into the murky depths.
The good news of course is that no one needs to know.
Except you of that is.
Like Clay’s grandfather, Haruki Murakami, and Ernest Hemingway; like the millions of folks who everyday quietly bait there hooks and cast their lines in hopes of one day landing the big one, you too in your own unique and spirited way must do the same.
So don’t weigh anchor just yet my friend.
Don’t go paddlin off in search of bluer waters and/or different work.
Stay with it.
Keep your head down, your hopes up, and if at all possible, your mouth shut.
The day will come when you land that trophy trout.
Then, if ya still feel the urge to tell the world, do so loud and proud.
Because now there’s an odds-on chance you’ve actually got something interesting to say.
See ya on Aug 1st. Till then, keeep it up.