Today, or five days before today, when I wrote this post, I finally, ultimately, hopefully permanently am letting go.
I (actually Hachette) am releasing Never Ask for the Sale: Supercharge Your Business with the Power of Passionate Ambivalence into the world, into bookseller stockrooms, into your hands. And I am releasing any attachment to what happens next.
I did what I said I was going to do.
I wrote a book that, as Leah Pearlman observed in her podcast interview with me recently, is about love. Love for the talented people who pick the book up and, in doing so, increase the chances of living a successful, sustainable, dreamy life. I am surely imperfect. I have motivations that are less than admirable. But the real reason I chose to create this book for you is because I want the truly gifted people I have and haven’t yet met – particularly the ones that don’t shout their gifts from the rooftops and the ones that think they need to constantly shout their gifts from the rooftops to get anyone to listen – to have a mindset and a toolkit to empower them to excel in a fully realized, authentic career and life.
Ironically, it is that very dance that has been tripping me up during the months ahead of today’s publication date. I have been hard on myself. I compared myself unfavorably to people who were more successful, wealthy, or famous than I. I let my imposter voice have its way with me. Often. On the inside, I violated everything my sales book stands for. I was not passionately ambivalent about the launch of this book. I have been attached, grasping, jealous, and desperate to control the outcome. I have asked for the sale many times, in many ways, in very public spaces.
Today I have been asking myself why I have been so hard on myself? Why has my imposter voice had its way with me? To get some answers, I posed the same question I offer you in Never Ask: “What is the goal my imposter voice has been trying to achieve?”
I found the answer.
Most things I do are tests. Projects, businesses, relationships, careers, haircuts, vacations. The book itself recommends rapid iteration and testing in life and at work. My timeline from idea to reality has always been short. My perfection level historically on those realities has been low. When something doesn’t go well, it’s always been fine. As a rapid iterator, quick “failure” is a win.
But this book? This book that went through nearly infinite rounds of review, editing, and feedback from so many brilliant people? I have spent more time perfecting this book than perhaps everything I’ve worked on in the last thirty years, combined. This book is finished. It’s complete. I don’t think there’s a single error in it. It is tight. It is refined. It is personal. Writing it was easy (and fast). A pure through-me experience. But putting it in your hands as something I’ve worked on for two years that represents so much of me and my learnings over a lifetime is vulnerable. And my imposter voice has been setting off alarms all over the place.
“Lay low, Sue. Don’t go all out about this thing. People may not like it!”
My imposter voice has been protecting me from heartbreak. Thanks, voice. I really appreciate you for giving me my next big learning in this life. Letting go when it is so personal is a ninja move.
And it’s time to declare victory, to arrive. This negative, fearful, controlling inner voice has served its purpose. By sharing this inner dialog with you, I hope to honor that voice, to be transparent about the weird struggles of something that should be pure delight, and to walk the walk of my book.
I care deeply about this book. I care deeply about this day. I’ve done all sorts of different things for “work,” but the thing I’m most proud of is my ability to spot genius in others and fan the flames of it. For the good of that person. For the good of my community. Hopefully, just for the good. This book is meant to do that thing, at scale.
Today is also the publication date for Liz Gilbert’s new book, All the Way to the River. Maybe you’ve heard of her?! I’ve been watching her on social media and wondering “WHY is she doing all this work, all these videos, all this argument for how much her new book will give you? What could she believe in so much that she’d get on Instagram every day to sell it? She doesn’t need more status, money, or fame.”
I have no idea, of course, but my best guess is that she is so damned passionate about her late partner and her experience of deep love that she wants us all to experience that as she has through her writing so that we can create it for ourselves IRL.
Perhaps that’s just a colossal projection, but I’m taking it for what it’s worth. I am passionate about Never Ask. I want you to find and live the best parts of you to your greatest advantage. I am glad this book is live today. I hope, if you read it, that it’s helpful to you. And no matter what, it and I are enough. There is and has never been much about the ultimate success of this book from here that I can control. Pegging my worth on the uncontrollable future is a fool’s errand.
Two years, endless favors asked (and granted…thank you all), hundreds of posts, tens of social media videos later, I’ve found passionate ambivalence about this day. Rah!
Any thoughts, feelings, or blurts? Share them here.
