Vitamin-rich substitutes for every business & self-promotin’ occasion.

1. Instead of a deadline with milestones, consider a date with milkshakes.
2. Instead of a case study, consider a LIVE client fashion show.
3. Instead of free 30-minute conversations, consider posting a video in which you illuminate your process. (Or, you could do a BusinessWeek interview at the park across the street—OMG, it’s me!)
4. Instead of status updates, consider creating project open office hours in advance, so clients can message you within windows of time, knowing you’re both focused on the same stuff.
5. Instead of finding a niche, consider finding the metrics for the work you’ve already done, and showing them off on your website, in your email signatures, wherever your people can see.
6. Instead of trying to write a bio from scratch, consider first making a list of things you believe, things you don’t believe anymore, and things you’ve done in the past that tie into what you do now, in unexpected ways that somehow all make sense.
7. Instead of writing the perfect description of what you do, consider writing about what your clients do.
8. Instead of accepting a project that isn’t the right fit, consider becoming the benevolent ruler of your own world.
9. Instead of wordsmithing, consider making a new, value-based offer to high-level people.
10. Instead of convincing someone why they need you, consider convincing yourself why they don’t. Write out this conversation with yourself until you get to the end of the line, when you’re forced to acknowledge that when it comes to x, they really do need you. Start there.
11. Instead of creating the all-encompassing Services page for everyone, consider creating three client scenarios, each linking to a package.
12. Instead of writing a blog post, consider interviewing a client or customer.
13. Instead of noticing when this project is taking more time than you expected, notice when this project is giving you more energy than you expected.
14. Instead of ignoring all of those pangs of ‘this doesn’t feel true,’ consider listening to them. Then, incorporate those insights into your copy.
15. Instead of beginning your sales page with a problem, consider beginning it with a time machine that carries them into the future, so they can see clearly what’s possible.
16. Instead of positioning something as exclusive and hard-to-get, consider positioning it as the most popular thing amongst the exclusive crowd.
17. Instead of explaining how it works, consider using an unexpected or surprising anecdote about what happened when you or a client used this, or what happened when they didn’t.
18. Instead of adding one more thing to your schedule, consider taking that nap.
19. Instead of trying to increase your hourly capacity, consider increasing the number of referrals you give away.
20. Instead of writing the world’s most persuasive sales page, consider writing a mini-ebook presenting surprising workarounds to common problems.
21. Instead of finding more ways to save money, consider finding more ways to share resources.
22. Instead of knowing why this will fail, consider what’s different this time.
23. Instead of feeling guilty, consider declaring amnesty.

Writing for a living is like living in airports.

You get to visit a lot of places, but you are never there for very long.

You spend most of your time in the airport.

What is it like? Some parts are always the same.

1. You get excited about a destination.
2. You pack all your bags and you make all your plans and you put together your itinerary. You get so good at packing. You become the most efficient packer in the world.
3. And then you go through security.
4. And then you wait.
5. And you wait.
6. And you think, Why did I get here so early? I’m just sitting here.
7. You keep checking the departure times.
8. You go to the gate and then you get a snack and then you wait some more.
9. Every once in a while, you have an idea about your destination. You write it down.
10. It gets very quiet.
11. It gets very loud. Ideas! Everywhere! Everyone’s in such a hurry! There’s always that one idea standing to the left of the conveyor belt, blocking all the other ideas from passing.
12. You pass through what feels like a million ideas. Sitting with them, coming back, eliminating the ones that no longer make sense, rewriting, sitting. So much sitting.
13. And you wait. You wait for clarity. You wait for insights. You wait for your head to clear so you can see with fresh eyes.
14. Waiting.

I wish I could just power through sometimes.

Reserve a private jet and slip through security with a five-pound bottle of shampoo and the world’s largest jar of moisturizer.

But, you know, regulations.

I have to keep showing up early if I want to get to my destination on time.

Sometimes I’m lucky.
There are no lines, the airport has a Peet’s, I can zip through at the last minute.

But it’s not something I expect. I feel lucky when it happens.

Most of the time, it takes as long as it takes. I did my part by packing efficiently and arriving early.

(This is why I can’t bill by the hour. I don’t know when the plane will arrive. Why should someone pay extra for a weather delay?)

I used to mistake my anxiety in airports for a message from my body telling me I needed to go home immediately.

Since I used to ignore these messages, I wanted to do the right thing. So, I’d walk right back out the gates, past the security guy who had just inspected my bag.

Upon reaching my car, I’d realize my flight was leaving in an hour, and my destination was expecting me. Now I’m going to be really late! I’d rush back in, just in time. This is not a sustainable way to travel.

I finally realized this message from my body was not a message to leave, but a message to begin.

“I’m ready! This is important to me, so I’m making you extra alert! No brain fog—voila! Stop lolly-gagging! All systems go!”

Just like nerves before a tennis match.

When clarity eventually arrives, as it does in airports, it feels like the most ordinary thing in the world.

I have to remind myself to be grateful for this amazing miracle of flight. How we fly through the air incredibly like birds every day, and no one says anything.

We ask for the whole can of apple juice as we’re flying through the air. I’d be astonished if the whole process didn’t take so long. I’m grateful it happens at all.

(I’m starting to realize something about living in airports. They’re not bad. I might like them almost as much as I like destinations.)