In 2003, I started blogging because I wanted to talk about culture and politics. I started with a standard Typepad template and one simple post entitled “Why Politics Matter.” Before long, I added a hit counter, and I figured out how to link to other bloggers, and I learned the joy (and headache) that comments can bring. Over the next year or so, I revamped the template and eventually, I had a design done professionally.
I kept that blog going for two years, and as I’ve mentioned here before, I eventually brought it to an end and I started this one. Starting a blog from scratch is a long, slow process and whenever I do it, I don’t have illusions that my initial efforts will look anything like the completed product I have in mind. And I don’t expect miraculous results in the first revision either. Or the second. Or the third. Instead, I march systematically toward the goal—always knowing that more needs to be done. Life is a lot like that.
Most projects in life—whether it’s a hobby, or writing that novel you’ve always dreamed about, or the complete revamping of yourself—are done in small, almost indistinguishable slices. You have a plan. You attempt to implement it. You fail. You try again and you have a small success. You try to improve upon the small success and you not only fail, but you wipe out the small success in the process. But you also learned what not to do the next time, so you start again by recreating your small success, then you avoid the disaster, and you experience another small success.
String enough of those successes together and you’re on your way. But if you get far enough in the process, detractors will come. Then you’ve got to decide whether their criticisms have any merit or whether they are really just trying to throw you off your game. You make your decision, one way or the other, then you get back on the horse in search of the next success. When you do, inevitably, you begin looking around at all of the other people who are doing the same thing you are attempting and you see that they have a shinier package, or a bigger audience, or they are doing a dozen other things better than you are.
Then it hits you. You didn’t start your current endeavor with any of this in mind. You started it because you knew that somehow it would satisfy a need you had deep inside. Maybe the need was to provide a brief escape an hour or two each day to clear your head. Maybe it was to work out something on paper that you’ve never been able to work it out in any other fashion. Maybe it was to fix character flaws that you know exist because you know the damage they cause in personal relationships.
Take the first step—that nearly indistinguishable initial act that can set you on the path that ultimately leads to the place you dream about. Attend that conference. Set up that blog. Start that novel. Invite a friend to dinner for a heart-to-heart. Start that business. Read that book you’ve been avoiding. Darken the church door. Whatever it is, just take the first step. Expect to fail. And when you do, realize that it’s just part of the process. Small failures are great learning experiences. See them as such, and you might get to live that dream after all.
