mediocre |ˌmēdēˈōkər|
adjective
of only moderate quality; not very good: a mediocre actor

It makes me wonder if this is the way my English teachers would have explained my skills to my parents during my early years of school.

Mom: How’s Noah doing in creative writing this year?

Teacher: Noah’s only writing at a moderate level of quality. If I was to be perfectly honest with you, he’s just not that good at it.

Looking back now at my blog, specifically between the years of 2006-2009, and questioning the reasons I chose not to blog more often, I may have been mistaken in the reasons why I never actually wrote more.

I usually attributed the lack of posting to “no time.” But now I’m wondering if I was simply scared of mediocrity. The fear of mediocrity is just as strong as the dreaded, and evil, fear of failure. How can we overcome such an opponent?

I read hundreds and hundreds of blogs on a weekly basis. Many of the writers are simply brilliant. The creators of the content inspire me daily.

Bloggers like; Derek Sivers, Ben Coe, Quoteflections, Seth Godin, Hugh MacLeod, Caitlin McCabe , Jason Seiden, Liz Danzico, Chris Guillebeau. Jonathan Fields,  to name just a few.

The fear of mediocrity bubbles up from within. It’s easier to do nothing, than it is to appear mediocre to others, or so we think. We allow that fear to debilitate us and then nothing happens. Fear of this kind can cause our blogs to sit empty and dormant for years.

It’s been pounded into us for years that perfection is the ultimate goal. Is it really worth doing if you can’t do it right?

I mean, if you can’t write as well as the millions of other great bloggers out there, is it really worth the time and effort to spend every day putting fingers to the keyboard? (That’s our internal fear talking, or lizard brain, or the resistance, or whatever we want to call it….)

Here’s the thing, It’s worth it.

The task doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter whether the task is writing a blog post, or starting a new business, or finishing an essay, or writing an outrageous advertisement, or creating a piece of art, or building a piece of furniture, or developing a website, or rewriting your resume, or telling a story at a campfire, or calling an old friend, or drawing a cartoon, or recording some music in your basement, or expressing your intention to start a diet and exercise.

It will never be “perfect.”

This form of resistance will rear its ugly head to try to convince you it’s not worth it at every step of the way. It will get stronger, and stronger, and stronger until the very last moment when you  get close to the end. Close to the moment of actually finishing it, it will make one last-ditch effort to try to stop you. It will do it’s best to convince you that what you’ve created is nothing more than a big steamy pile of mediocrity.

For me, that moment is right now.

And then I hit publish.

Maybe they looked at you like you were nuts. Maybe they thought you were a little bit of a weirdo. Maybe they told you to stop daydreaming and get back to work.

Jack Dorsey, the creator and co-founder of Twitter, had the idea for Twitter brewing in his head since he was 15-years old. When he first used the service, at a preliminary stage with his friends as test subjects, they were annoyed.

“That’s great Jack, keep playing, but I’ve got work to do.”

You can watch Jack talk about the idea and creation of Twitter below. One of the key points is that very early-on, he was able to move a very rough drawing of his idea out of his head and onto a piece of paper.

One of the very first blog posts I ever wrote was called “Why you shouldn’t start your own business!” Looking back, my writing and blog quality has come along way, but the idea is the same. There will always be an ample number of people telling you how stupid your ideas are.

Most people will disagree and tell you to get back to work. They’ll tell you it’s too risky or it’s the wrong time to start a business.

Is it ever the right time?

There have been so many other stupid ideas before yours. For example:

Apple will never be successful with the iPod.

Lots of people said, and still say, “Twitter is dumb. I don’t get it.”

Your friends that once said, “I’ll never carry a cell phone,” are probably texting you right now.

Your friends that once said, “I’ll never join Facebook” are probably posting their fifth album of vacation photos this week.

The point is this:

• It will never be the right time.
• Your ideas will always be stupid to some people.
• Those same people will probably talk about you and your wacky ideas behind your back.

I say – “proceed.”

Hugh want’s you to know that while you may be pouring your heart and soul into your art, or your business, or your passion; nobody cares.

Why would anybody care about all the great things you’re doing?

Human beings are generally considered to be self-interested creatures. Everyone’s living their own busy lives to really care about what you’re up to.

But there’s another important reason as to why most people don’t care.

They don’t care because it’s hard for people to watch someone breaking the rules. It makes people cringe.

It’s hard to fathom someone doing something not considered “safe.”

It’s hard for people to accept your ideas as anything more than silly pipe dreams.

But why?

It’s because there is so much pent up fear.

Fear you might break free.

Fear you might change the rules.

Fear you might succeed.

Fear you might find your way out of the waiting place.

Someday, everyone may be paying attention. They might start paying attention, but they still won’t care.

The good news is this: You’re a self-interested creature too.

Do whatever it is you’re doing for yourself. Get used to nobody caring and carry on.

To me, this piece brings it all together. If you look back over the past four days, you’ll see that each peice of art tends to bring us to this last and super important message from Hugh.

life is too short not to do something that matters – linchpin (click here for a better look at the print)

I love this art. It’s inspirational. It’s motivational. It’s a constant reminder. It’s always staring at me – leaving me nowhere to hide.

Here’s what Hugh has to say about it:

“Life is too short not to do something that matters, not to become a ‘Linchpin’. I know it, you know it, we all know it, so let’s stop futzin’ around and get on with it”. Like Seth says, “Decide.”

I’m not sure there is much more  to say beyond that. Maybe there’s a little…

Life is too damn short. Before you know it, you’ll wake up, or not, in a nursing home (if you’re lucky).

It’s inevitable. So why are you running around like a chicken with your head cut-off trying to acquire more stuff?

Why are you running the rat race?

Why are you spending another day doing something that makes you unhappy?

Make the decision and make it right now. Life’s too damn short my friends. Do something that matters. That’s the secret.

What are you waiting for?

“all artists are entrepreneurs. all entrepreneurs are artists. linchpin”. (click here for a better look at the print)

I love this print. I’ve always felt that I’ve had the “entrepreneur” bug; but I haven’t thought about myself as being an artist, since I was about eight years old and my Grandmother was teaching me how to paint.

This changes that for me. This print reminds me of the way I felt as a child. Each and every day I begin to understand that, more and more, we’re one of the same breed.

Here is Hugh’s take on it:

“By Seth’s definition, an artist is not just some person who messes around with paint and brushes, an artist is somebody who does (and I LOVE this term) “emotional work.”

Work that you put your heart and soul into. Work that matters. Work that you gladly sacrifice all other alternatives for. As a working artist and cartoonist myself, I know exactly what he means. It’s not what you do, it’s the way you do it.”

We  all have the entrepreneur bug in us. I don’t believe that people are either born with entrepreneur bug or not. This bug lives and breathes in all of us.

We all have the ability to do emotional work.

We all have the ability to do work that matters.

We all have the ability to do work that makes a difference.

But it’s easier to not engage in is that type of work. It’s easier to give in and do work to satisfy another constructed human need. We’d rather give in and earn a paycheck so we can satisfy the need to buy more stuff.

When we realize that most of us have more stuff than we’ll ever really need, we can start to see the beauty of spending our lives as artists.

Yesterday, my friends over at 37Signals pointed out a really great video of an artist and entrepreneur. Watch the video and you’ll see that Bob is both an entrepreneur and an artist. There is no difference. Bob decided life was more worth living by spending his days doing emotional work. Funny thing is, he makes a bundle doing it.

Who’s to say you can’t do the same?

“linchpin. It was either that or the insane asylum”

Print #2 (click here for a better look at the print)

Yesterday we spoke about the fight. The need to fight like hell. However, as we’ve seen, the easiest option is not to fight. It’s easier to run and hide. The easy route is to park yourself in the “Waiting Place.”

It’s kind of grim right? Take a look around and see how many aren’t fighting. I bet you’ll find that almost everyone you know has chosen not to get in the ring. We can’t blame them for making that choice.

Fighting is hard. I struggle everyday with the choice. We all do and, therefore, most would rather just give in. Of course giving in has its consequences. The consequences are like living in an insane asylum. I love this piece because everyday it reminds me that, while the choice to fight may be difficult, the consequence of not fighting is far, far, farrrr worse.

Here’s what Hugh has to say about this piece:

“Why do people become what Seth Godin calls “Linchpins”? Because to not do so would drive us crazy. Eventually we have no choice. And we’ve all been in worse places  - when you know you’re capable of doing great things, being in “The Zone”, but every external marker out there indicates otherwise -  that you’ll never get to do the “life’s best work” that you’re capable of. That your career will be nothing but drudgery and abuse, in exchange for what seems an increasingly meager paycheque.

And after being there long enough, the decision to become a Linchpin eventually becomes an easy one. But it can take time.”

I believe we are ALL capable of becoming a Linchpin.

We’re all capable of doing great things and living our life’s purpose.

We’re all capable of doing work that matters.

We’re all capable of making the world just a little bit better.

Becoming a Linchpin is your path to becoming indispensable.

But it’s hard.

If you’ve been in the asylum long enough, maybe you’re already ready to get into the ring.

For me, it was about one year in an dreary office environment, countless meetings where nothing got done, and a dark office without a window, working 9-5 (plus a dreadful one hour commute each way).

Thank goodness I spent time in the asylum early.

Just one final clarification. Being a Linchpin doesn’t mean you need to be self-employed or an entrepreneur (although it might be the only way). As an employee of an organization or someone with a job, you’ve also got the opportunity to be the Linchpin of the organization.

Of course, the battle is the same. It’s hard to break the rules. It’s hard to go against the manual. It’s hard to make changes or start doing things a new and better way.

But, where would you rather be?

I’m a little more excited to be back in my office today, because my office has been upgraded with my new artwork from Hugh MacLeod.

I thought over the next four days, I’ll share a little bit about each print and why they speak to me; but more importantly, how they can speak to you.

#1 (in no particular order BTW)

This is it. fight like hell. linchpin (click here for a better look at the print)

This particular piece of  art speaks to me in a few ways, and I wanted to share some of  those feelings with you in the most simplistic way I can.

This is it – We’ve all got one life, one shot, one chance to do things our way. Are we willing to sacrifice it all for a paycheck? I’m not. Are we willing to accept the Monday Blues or the Terrible Tuesdays? Why should we look forward to saying TGIF (thank goodness it’s Friday)? We should ONLY accept  “TGIM, TGIT, TGIW, TGIT, TGIF.”

Fight like hell. - Unfortunately the easiest route is to not fight at all. The easiest way is to take the life everyone else chooses to accept. The easiest way is to follow the herd. It’s easier to accept stress and unhappiness than it is to put on the gloves and enter the fight.

The fight is scary.

The opponent is bigger and stronger than you.

The opponent is like Ivan Drago - you’ve got to be Rocky.

However, the fight is about creating the life of your dreams. The fight is the biggest battle you’ll ever have. The fight is waking up every morning with a smile on your face.  Only a few will ever go into a ring. You should be one of the few.

The art is a reminder to me that every time I walk into my office, I’ve got to put on the gloves, put in my mouthgaurd, clean up my cuts and bruises, and get back at it. I’ve got to fight like hell.

But every day is going to be hard. I’m going to get hurt. I’m going to get knocked down, but what’s my other option? Find out tomorrow.

Here is  Hugh’s take on it:

“It’s easy to tell somebody to get into The “Linchpin” Zone. Much harder to live it. But fight like hell to get there, regardless, every friggin’ day, or else you’ll never make it.

You know you’re capable of doing great things, being in “The Zone”, but every external marker out there indicates otherwise- that you’ll never get to do “life’s best work” that you’re capable of; that your career will be nothing but drudgery and abuse, in exchange for, what seems like, an increasingly meager paycheck.

Yeah, it’s a painful place to be. But it doesn’t last forever, unless you give up. Not if you don’t succumb to all the overpriced, “treadmill-enabling”, external markers of success, such as fancy houses, cars, schools, vacations and “stuff” that you can’t really afford. You don’t really need nearly as much as the guy in the next cubicle says that you do. “