For as long as I can remember, I believed that in order to create big change in my life, I needed to take big risks. Often—although not always—these risks came with sizable price tags attached.
It is only very recently that I have learned to catch the story of, “It’s okay because it’s an investment!” when it’s happening in real time.
While some of those investments brought me to where I am now, they also contributed to the overwhelming amount of debt that I currently have. The debt that fed the anxiety that led me to move back home last year—at 30—with the explicit goal of paying it off.
My loans and lines of credit were collecting emotional interest on top of the dollars and cents they were also accruing.
Then, just yesterday, after simplifying my business plan, I found myself fiddling with numbers for some future expenses that would allow me to take my yet-to-be-created money workshop for writers on the road.
The thought of waiting until I could pay for everything in cash would mean I’d have to wait years before I could launch this exciting initiative. I would just have to take out another loan.
It’s okay though because it’s an investment!
Of course, it’s not okay and I’m not going to do it. Instead, I went back to the drawing board with the question, “How much smaller and more specific can my work be?”
How can I cut out everything that is not essential? What’s left over at the end?
What originally involved me, a vintage Airstream, and a bunch of other bells and whistles, came down to me and my future motorcycle. Also a backpack with my computer and a change of clothes.
Even smaller still is me—without my future motorcycle—doing workshops locally. Places I could cycle to or reach easily by the car I have access to.
Even smaller still is me creating the workshop so that I actually have something to offer the writers I want to serve.
Even smaller still is me doing what I can today to build out that workshop.
Even smaller still is me writing this blog post to help me get clear on what I need to do next.
Even smaller still is me writing my Morning Pages so that my mind is uncluttered enough to take even the tiniest step forward.
The smaller I go, the more I’m able to use what I already have available to me to get me where I want to go. It’s not glamorous. Nor am I able to outsource solving my challenges in the ways I’ve done in the past.
And I have already begun to see how this approach is going to help me get to where I want to go financially and professionally.
So, how much smaller and more specific can your work be?