Does passion follow action?

In the world of coaching, particularly in career and entrepreneurial coaching, much emphasis is put on the question of what you are passionate about.

It’s a direct result of the “do what you love and the money will follow” paradigm.

I’ve written before (here and here) about why I think this is the wrong question to be focused on.

So many of us are so deeply out of touch with ourselves that we feel passionless, and quite frankly, being asked to name what we are passionate about can create a heightened sense of despair and confusion.

I’ve also submitted to you that you must rather find the things you believe in beyond reason, the dreams that make you cry when you merely contemplate making them real, the visions that humble you with their enormity when you consider the possibility that YOU might be capable of creating them.

When you still don’t know?

What do you do when you STILL don’t know what that thing is?

You listen.

You listen to the voice of your soul. You listen for those little whispers and nudges that tell you exactly what you are supposed to be doing. And then you do it.

Mind you, those nudges won’t be loud. But they will be consistent. You just have to pay attention. Then take action.

Case in point

I have wanted to write for years. Years! And I’ve been “writing,” because I’ve been blogging, writing articles, and creating programs for the last 10 years (oh, hey! I just realized that August was my 10th year in business, I’ll have to come up with a way to celebrate). But I haven’t been writing on the level that I’ve truly wanted to — longer, deeper writing projects.

Finally, I started taking that voice seriously. I realized that I didn’t need to close my business to write, I didn’t need to become suddenly independently wealthy, and I didn’t need someone to wave their magic wand and give me permission to write. I just needed to do it.

In fact, when this came to head for me was when I had been repeatedly asking my Essential Self for guidance. “What do I need to do? What’s in my highest and best interest? What will make me happy?” I was asking, over and over again. The message came back, clearly. She said, “Write like your life depends on it.”

It STILL took me a while to get it. To understand that I didn’t need to radically change my life (see above) in order to “be able” to write. I just had to do it.

Then came the passion

Miraculously, once I began writing, I discovered a shocking, all-consuming fierce passion for it I did not know I had.

In fact, despite the days when writing feels impossibly difficult, no fun at all, and my inner critic is raging at me like a blue meanie on steroids, I still absolutely adore it.

The weirdest part of all of this is that the passion did not kick in, not truly, until I was well into writing regularly — truly DOING IT — day in and day out.

It’s led me to believe that passion follows action, not the other way around.

But I add this caveat: The action must be inspired — it must come from the voice of your soul.

Your turn

Tell me what you think in the comments. You know I love to hear from you. If you’d like some tips about HOW to listen to the voice of your soul, check out this article here.

Warmly,

Jenna

 

 

 

 

Going pro

Over the last week, I’ve seen a lot of conversation about being professional. In part this was from a writer’s perspective, but it also came up in the broader context of reading Steven Pressfield’s new book, Turning Pro: Tap Your Inner Power and Create Your Life’s Work, which is a book for “artists, entrepreneurs, and athletes whose ambition is … to pursue their heart’s calling and make it work.”

If I had to pick one role model to follow, I’d be hard pressed not to choose Steven Pressfield. He’s inspiring, practical, and amazing, and a man after my own heart. If I stand for anything, it’s about helping you get out of your own way and do what you were put here to do.

Do the work

What I love about Steven’s work is that he doesn’t say that it will be easy, that you should do what you love and the money will follow, or any of that.

What he says, instead, is that doing the work is hard. That we have to face our fears everyday and get our butts in our seats no matter what to do the work — whatever it is.

Passion is a misnomer

I also read yesterday that passion is a misnomer (I’ve written about this subject before myself). In this guest essay, Joshua Fields Millburn points out:

“Just because you’re passionate about something doesn’t mean you’ll enjoy every aspect of it.

“In fact, I’ve found the opposite to to be true. While writing my first masterpiece, Falling While Sitting Down, it was a miserable experience 80% of the time. Seriously, much of the time I wanted to put my head through a wall. But the other 20% was magical and exciting and made all the suffering and drudgery well worth it.

“The key is pushing through the tedium of the 80%, so you can find the beauty beneath the banality; it’s there, plentiful in that remaining 20%. You have to tolerate the pain, if you want to pursue your dream.”

Turning pro means being a grown up

When I talked with Elaine yesterday about writing, we agreed with Joshua. Pursuing anything meaningful is hard, a lot of the time. It takes being a grown up and facing the hard sucky parts to get to the other side of completion. It means surfing the waves of pain and self-doubt, sitting on the throne of agony, and doing the work.

It’s time we started telling the truth about that.

Remember, even Ray Kinsella went through his own kind of hell before people came to his field of dreams.

What if we loved even the crummy parts?

And while it’s tempting to pursue one’s calling with the focus on the magical 20% — the epiphanies, sudden insights, and flashy Elvis moments — I can’t help wondering, isn’t it worth it to enjoy ALL of it?

Someone asked me recently, “What’s your story of ‘turning pro?'”

Here’s my answer: The day I turned pro with my writing was the day that I realized that if someone offered me $10,000,000 with the condition that I could never write again, I would turn them down. I knew with incredible conviction that I want to write — I must write — and I will allow nothing to stop me. Not even the bad days where I think I can’t write myself out of a shoebox let alone put a whole script together.

Now the only questions about my writing are: What to write, what to write next, and how to make my writing better and hone my craft. And then what to write after that.

That was the day I turned pro.

When you just can’t do anything else

Steven Pressfield tells a similar story. He talks about how despite his doubts and failures, he knew that he simply couldn’t do anything else but write, and when he tried anything else, he couldn’t stand it. So he had no choice but to keep writing. And he did.

I’m with him.

Bottom line

There’s an idea out there about making “life decisions.” These are unalterable, no-turning-back decisions where you are all in. To me, that’s what it means to turn pro. What about you?

Warmly,

 Jenna

If someone offered you 10 million dollars with only one small catch, would you take it?

The other day I had an email from a friend about me screenwriting at 6 a.m. every morning. She said, “I admire your discipline. It must come from a deep passion.”

I thought, “Is this passion? Is this discipline? Is that what this is? That doesn’t quite feel right.”

Perhaps this is because I’ve struggled for so long to be clear about what I’m passionate about that the word “passion” has lost meaning for me.

Then, last week I found myself saying to my Writer’s Circle participants how you would have to fight me off with a sword to keep me from writing.

And I thought, “Huh! Passion.”

But the clincher was when I saw Jeanne Bowerman‘s tweet:

I knew my own answer was “No. Way.”

Then I got it. This is beyond reason, it’s beyond passion. It’s a kind of fierceness I never expected.

What shocks me is that this fierceness has been born out of the discipline of writing on a daily basis, not the other way around. And I hesitate to even call it discipline, because there are days when I have to drag myself out of bed with bribes and threats alike. The funny thing is that it’s gotten more scary NOT to write than TO write. 

I didn’t know I would love writing like this. I had no idea until I started doing it regularly. Daily. At ungodly hours.

I’m also fascinated to have discovered that taking a day off or two DOES dwindle this feeling. I find myself drifting and uninspired when I stop.

But as long as I write every day or darn close to it, I’m good.

And I’m doing this by making it a LOT harder NOT to write than it is TO write:

  • I set my clock early. If I don’t get up and write immediately, I’ll miss my chance before my husband goes to work and I’ve got kid duty.
  • I set public goals with my Writer’s Circle EVERY DAY. And they notice if I don’t show up.
  • I have assignments due every day for my ProSeries screenwriting class. And they’re counting to make sure we’re doing the assignments.
  • I’m the coach for the Writer’s Circle too, so I have a responsibility as a role model too.

I’ve got multiple layers of accountability. Plus a healthy fear that if I stop writing, it’ll be hard to get started again. And a fierce belief that I’ve found my true calling.

 Jenna

Called to Write
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