People write for all sorts of reasons. Most people who write would say it’s a calling or a job or some fun/important/fill-in-the-blank thing they decided to do. The best writing comes from people who can’t not write. The ones who have an innate talent to bring song and cadence and meaning to a string of words. The most memorable writing can come from people who may lack as much “natural” ability but ooze passion (and accept help, see below); giving voice to a cause is a potent weapon. And when you have talent or passion or both, you write what’s laid on your heart, even if there’s merely a small audience or “limited appeal.” The very best writers are also the ones who know they didn’t actually give birth to Words on a page, trying to lay claim to each one, clutching each to their breast. Translation? They employ professional editors and allow them to prune and shape and strengthen their words—and their impact. Published writers know great writing is most often a process.

Most people who write, or say they want to write, long for the “how” of the matter. How do you write? How do you do it well? Where are the magic beans?! But there’s no trick or pill or seminar or special writing ritual that makes the difference. Jonathan Fields recently wrote the following advice to writers on his blog entitled Book Marketing: What If You Could Only Do One Thing?:

Write because you give so much of a damn…Write because your heart tells you it’s a soulful, cognitive or moral imperative. Write because God told you this is why you’re here. Write because there’s something that’s gotta get out that nobody else can say. Write because you’ve got something to say that will leave people changed. But, more than anything else, write the #$@% out of your book [or article, manifesto, or whatever you want to set to paper]. Write to blow minds, rip open closed hearts, illuminate the human condition or otherwise move life’s needle forward in a profound way. Write as if this is your last book. Ever. Your legacy.

Patti Digh tells it like it is in her latest blog, How to Write (a Book). A Wee Rant, giving simple, practical, true advice. I agree with what she says, although I do think of myself as a writer and not only as someone who writes. I know the verb is the ticket, but writing is more than an action I do; it’s part of who I am. It’s part of me, just like the fact that I’m female, have blue eyes, and not as tall as I wish I were. Or maybe Patti would say no, it’s the verb, silly, because it’s something I choose to do, more like the fact that as long as there’s color in a bottle and a stylist to apply it, I’ll have highlights. I just can’t not do it. Not for long. I’m drab without highlights; I’m desperate without words.

In reading Jonathan’s and Patti’s and an endless list other “successful writers” talking to those wanting to be successful writers, you know what it’s really like? Writing is a lot like losing weight; it’s that simple and that complex. Eat less, move more. But that’s hard work (constant effort, consistent patterns), so we look for an easy button, a magic pill that allows us to eat our cake and wear our (small) pants too! OK, maybe I’m oversimplifying, but really, for most situations, it’s about whether or not you want to and choose to lose weight…or eat those melt-in-your-mouth Hot-Now doughnuts. Do you get off the couch and move your behind or not? Either you put in the time and work and restraint or you stay where you are. If you need extra assistance (a trainer, a dietitian, an accountability partner), help is available at every price point. (I work out and watch what I eat, so I know it is all about what matters more to me—being healthy and fitting in my clothes or eating with abandon and sitting still.)

The same is true with writing: Do you want to write…or just talk about it? So what now? To paraphrase Patti: Sit the heck down and write! You write! (Gosh, Patti is right, it does all comes down to the verb—the action.) Own your desire, decide what matters most to you, and act accordingly.

How is your year unfolding? What are you spending your waking (nonworking) hours doing, watching, being, absorbing? Look over the past week or month of your life. Now answer this question: What’s your pattern of stimulation?

Are you usually passive, content with observing more than doing? And when you are engaged in something, what is that activity? What’s its meaning or function or purpose? Are you spending too much of your life viewing others live theirs? (And do you actually know the people you’re watching?!)

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, author of Flow, writes, “Most of us spend many hours each week watching celebrated athletes playing in enormous stadiums. Instead of making music, we listen to platinum records cut by millionaire musicians. Instead of making art, we got to admire paintings that brought in the highest bids at the latest auction. We do not run risks acting on our beliefs, but occupy hours each day watching actors who pretend to have adventures, engaged in mock-meaningful action. This vicarious participation is able to mask, at least temporarily, the underlying emptiness of wasted time. But it is a very pale substitute for attention invested in real challenges. The flow of experience that results from the use of skills leads to growth; passive entertainment leads nowhere. Collectively we are wasting each year the equivalent of millions of years of human consciousness. The energy that could be used to focus on complex goals, to provide enjoyable growth, is squandered on patterns of stimulation that only mimic reality.”

That quote seems especially appropriate during the Olympics, grand tradition that it is. (Its $6 billion+ price tag leaves me wondering how many lives could be changed if it were carefully invested in some of the millions of people with needs {and/or innovative ideas} worldwide.) I’ve watched about 30 minutes, total, of the winter Olympics. I truly don’t care who wins, but I do root for everyone to do their best. (I know how it feels to perform in front of an audience; even if you come up short for the gold, it helps to know you did your personal best; and conversely it haunts to fall—literally or figuratively—and mentally replay the scene and what-ifs.) I don’t watch a lot of the Olympics because, frankly, it adds nothing to my life. Ditto for sports and TV sitcoms. Does it expand my mind or pay my bills or enrich my spirit? (Sometimes 30 Rock touches on that last one—laughter absolutely has value!).

I’m not anti-Olympics or sports or, for that matter, always (though sometimes) against things that qualify as, ahem, psuedo-activities (Farmville, anyone?). OK, I’m definitely anti-Farmville, but I won’t judge you. Promise. But I do want you to judge yourself. Stop sleepwalking through your days. Stop mindlessly crashing in front of the TV in the evenings because you think you’re too tired for anything else (and stay too tired to turn off the set so one cop drama turns into three hours of the stuff). Days turn into weeks, and years travel faster with each passing one. “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives,” says Annie Dillard. How are you spending your life?

If being attached to a Wii makes your heart sing, well, it’s not for me to tell you to stick your nose in a book (which is one way my spirit hums). But I do challenge you to be deliberate and proactive in your choices. Too many of us live on automatic pilot, which is to say we don’t fully live by our own design. It’s easier (and more comfortable and way less threatening) to stay stuck in a comfortable habit instead of thoughtfully changing the status quo. Quit wearing the metaphysical brand of the masses and decide what you represent, what you stand for, what is most important to you. And then, as Nike asserts, Just Do It. Note the directive is active (not Just Watch It, or Just Sit There). So go on. Be mindful of each decision you make. Change the station or pattern if you’ve been on auto-mode and you’ll alter the direction of your day…and your life.

BusinessWeek authors Roger L. Martin and Jennifer Riel discuss “Innovation’s Accidental Enemies” in the January 14th issue. They say that leaders often demand proof that a new idea will work, thereby squashing innovation.

"Invention, my dear friends..."

Deductive and inductive reasoning are mainstream, leader-approved ways of brainstorming. With deduction, we utilize existing rules. When we use induction, we fashion a new rule from existing data. These standards, Martin and Riel point out, both use real-world, already-proven info to analyze potential ideas. “But for breakthroughs, there is no rule or pool of past data to provide certainty.” Fear of the unknown takes the lead and hampers creative juices and shuts down intoxicating what-if scenarios. (And if something failed in the past, that can nix any possibility for a second chance, even if the factors that led to its initial demise have reversed.)

The mentality of requiring hard evidence of past successes (for future ones) isn’t only a corporate problem; idea-busters tangle up personal endeavors too. If we get too wild, we may end up looking or feeling like an idiot, right? Yet, and here’s the painful truth: When we settle for what provides a modicum of safety on paper, sometimes we miss out on the magic that’s just beyond the margin.

To prevent security trumping innovation, the authors offer us a third option: abductive logic, aka “the logic of what could be.” They write, “To use abduction, we need to creatively assemble the disparate experiences and bits of data that seem relevant in order to make an inference—a logical leap—to the best possible conclusion.” This is a leap beyond standard “calculated risks.” Such magical could-be thinking allows more leeway in the boardroom—and at your kitchen table talking with family or friends about life matters.

And the outcome? “Asking what could be true—and jumping into the unknown—is critical to innovation. Nurturing the ideas that result, rather than killing them, can be the tricky part.” Leaping into foreign territory doesn’t mean we have to live there, or even stay overnight. Merely sitting down for an unrushed visit amid the wild and remote areas of our thoughts can produce amazing discoveries.

Are fears holding you back from trekking deeper into the unknown? Throw out your well-worn cranial processes, hitch your current thoughts to the logic of what could be…and see where your mind takes you. The destination might prove magical, maybe even miraculous. And to those of you who require things to add up neatly, percolate on this gem from Willy Wonka: “Invention, my dear friends, is 93% perspiration, 6% electricity, 4% evaporation, and 2% butterscotch ripple.”

I’m unplugging to breathe in all that the remaining days of this year promise, and I cheerfully challenge you to do the same to whatever degree you can. Thank you so much for sharing your time, your thoughts, and your friendship with me during the last six months. I look forward to more conversations next year. Many prayers for each one of you to have miraculous and magical holiday moments (that you recognize and cherish!) and a lovely, peace-filled Christmas and New Year (free of resolutions but overflowing with powerful intentions). See you in 2010!

We’re only human, so we all need forgiveness. But what about pre-forgiveness? …

Christian tracts are always at my local post office. Sometimes they’re stacked in a neat little pile, as though someone shuffled and tapped them hard and even against the table, like a deck of cards. Other times one is standing up, as though an open-book pose will snag passers-by if they catch a word or phrase beaming out from the text.

An empty envelope had been left near such tracts, and the big blue stamp of “YOU’VE BEEN PRE-FORGIVEN OPEN TO FIND OUT HOW*” caught my eye. (Yep, it had the asterisk. Doesn’t every such claim?!) I stopped and took two steps backward to glance at the envelope again, maybe because I wondered if it were related to the Bible tracts or if the recipient had left it intentionally to draw more attention to them. But the envelope wasn’t promising eternal salvation—it was promising benefits via Nationwide Insurance. I know because my very own envelope, complete with letter, was waiting for me in my postal box.

“Dear Emily-Sarah, You’re pre-forgiven,” the letter starts. “[Y]ou can be forgiven before anything even happens.” They offer Accident Forgiveness (good on your first wreck), Minor Violation Forgiveness (for when the police officer doesn’t care how gorgeous you look when you zip by him at 85 mph), and Roadside Assistance. You can customize coverage to include only the features that fit into your lifestyle. The letter closes with “You can find forgiveness too.”

Customization is a great marketing tool, and it’s no surprise insurance is another industry hopping on the just-the-way-you-want-it boat. It’s smart. Pay for what you need/use, ditch the rest. Personalization prevails! (OK, let’s double up on the accident portion, just in case; I’ll forego the violation part—I have a really fetching smile.)

What made me take a second look (which is the point) is the tagline. But what captivates me the most is the message—not just Nationwide’s, but the intrinsic notion of “pre-forgiveness.” I think immediately of Jesus, God’s son who came to forgive us all, if only we believe; and then you are pre-forgiven for the bad stuff you’ll do, even post-salvation. My next thought is of that silly (100% bogus) saying “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” And the next? An acquaintance’s liberal use of “It’s easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.”

“After all these years of searching, I realize that what was calling me now was the same thing that was calling me as a child. I could not capture it because it was already a part of me, an extension of myself. It was me, projected, like a shadow. Ask yourself what is calling you—and then answer.”

– Victoria Clarynn Welch

In honor of National Adoption Awareness Month, here’s a look at semantics on the subject. And if you’re wondering how this piece fits into a work/life legacy blog, the last paragraph is all-inclusive to humanity. Plus, almost everyone is touched at least indirectly by adoption, by knowing someone (who knows someone) who is affected by the adoption triad. (And it’s always a good reminder to know that language equals power, so we need to choose our words carefully.)

I’ve known I am adopted for almost as long as I’ve known my name. Saying “I’m adopted,” is easy for me. Thanks to my sweet and loving parents, I’ve always felt special, chosen, legitimate (’cause they told me I was special—and chosen). The few times I’ve questioned my “authenticity” or wondered if maybe I did have something to feel ashamed about came as a result of other people’s misperceptions or attitudes of adoption or adoptees.

My parents surely felt upset, or at least cheated when birth parents used to be referred to routinely as the “real” or “natural” parents. (As if “adoptive” parents are “fake” or “unnatural”?) Such language could be argued as semantics, but for me it goes deeper than that. Words are powerful symbols. A fellow adoptee said it best: “They are not my ‘adoptive’ parents; they’re my parents. … A parent is someone who is there when you need them, through the good and bad times. Giving birth to someone doesn’t make you a parent.” It’s not the use but overuse of qualifiers that threaten to understate or wrongly label our parent/child relationships.

When I was in elementary school, a girl asked me if I knew what a bastard was. She then shared that “illegitimate children are bastards.” I was more outraged than hurt, and ran to my dictionary when I got home. She had to be mistaken! A bastard was somebody mean, bad—a terrible, awful person. But staring back at me from my World Book Dictionary was bastard: 1. a child whose parents are not legally married to each other; illegitimate child. 2. figurative. anything inferior or not genuine, especially anything of bad or spurious origin. 3. slang. an especially unpleasant, disliked, and usually unscrupulous person. Actually, I didn’t get to number 3. Tears blurred my vision. It was the first time I ever questioned my sense of worth. Was I inferior? After all, that’s what the dictionary stated. (And of course this means I previously had heard and knew that I, by definition, was “illegitimate”; otherwise, I never would’ve made the associated leap to bastard.)

That scene took place years ago. Multiple family situations abound now, domestic and international adoption are more prevalent and less cloaked in secrecy, and people are more sensitve, right? Nope. People are more aware, but it seems as if many people are less tolerable. They’re definitely less diplomatic.

The girl in the above incident wasn’t trying to be cruel; she was just sharing a new curse word she’d learned. Fast forward: A co-worker at the newspaper where I worked early in my career, a editor who was supposed to be discerning “red flag” words (“illegitimate” was one; to be replaced by “out of wedlock”), made a crass statement about “illegitmate children, the little bastards.” This time I didn’t question my self-worth; I questioned him. But he was steadfast in his opinion, regurgitating a belief he’d acquired. “But they are,” he repeated. “Illegitimate,” though less used now, remains on the forefront of some tongues and attitudes.

The old attitude and word seem to reignite when it’s budget time or a new research study comes out or politicians are enthralled in debates over welfare. That last one is especially tricky, when people dare to classify viable families from financially invalid ones, and then define children by their parentage. Completely apart from any intended message, what must be questioned is their language and underlying positions and beliefs. Forget about how thought-provoking direct messages or study results may be—the intent sometimes gets overshadowed and lost amid condescending, condemning language.

“Illegitimate” is much more than an unpleasant word. It carries with it a nasty, sour ring. And the people it affects the most are the children involved. Children have no say-so in their parentage, yet they are labeled with a negative, derogatory word that not only implies, but by definition (and often, a deeper opinion) says that they are “less than.” As soon as they are born, what should be every person’s birthright is voided, taken away: their title of genuineness. If “illegitimate” was just a word, it could be ignored. But the attitude that too often accompanies it hardens and narrows minds, and the resulting point of view can damage those children.

We probably can’t rid society of the word, but let’s at least put it in its proper place. Label the parents who abandon, abuse, ridicule their children. Surely people who viciously and purposely harm their offspring are not truly “legitimate” parents. Attach the stigma, the title, the word to them, not blameless children.

Each of us is a legitimate human being. We must ensure that all children receive in thought, word, and definition their innate and entitled blessing of complete authenticity.

Not content merely to change your language? Can you “Answer the Call” and give a child a loving family? There are currently about 129,000 children in foster care in the United States that would love a permanent place to call home—and someone to call Mom and Dad. Check out:

National Adoption Awareness Month

Child Welfare Information Gateway

Adoption.org

What won’t turn loose of your heart? No, not a nice, tidy little hobby you find fun. (And no, I don’t mean your newest favorite song or a particular person.) I’m talking about your all-out passion. What’s that one thing you can’t NOT do? It’s the awesome thing that would consume you (if you’d let it).

Now do you have an answer? Yeah, that thing that makes your heart hum. That cause or talent that you think might be the reason you’re on this earth.

So, are you doing it? Enough? Honoring the gift that not only jazzes you but brings joy to others? If yes, then inhale a deep breath…pray a prayer of gratitude…and you can stop reading.

If not, why not? Is it time constraints? Money restrictions? Lack of support? I know you have an answer. But what if you stopped stopping at the answer and its reasons? What if you stopped giving the answer space and instead devoted the mental energy toward getting closer to your passion? Work past the negative answer. (News Flash: You can also do this with almost any obstacle/challenge/”impossibility” in your life.)

“Take a deep breath of your life and consider how it should be lived,” says Don Quixote. We must be deliberate about what we do, the decisions we make, how we spend our time. We also must be proactive with our thoughts. (Sometimes your sweet mind will give you faulty answers, wrongly believing it’s protecting you from harm or heartbreak.)

So what’s wrapped around your heart? In the big-picture, what’s your life’s mission?

If that’s too, well, big to digest, then write down things that are super important to you which you’re also great at doing. Almost always you’ll find clues of your life’s mission tied to these answers. For me, examples are writing thank you notes and attempting to be intensely attuned to individuals who cross my path, realizing that a smile or kind word may do much more than merely lift their spirits.

Taking those two things, writing+helping, pretty much sums up my life’s mission. My life is wrapped around the written word, and my intent is to use writing as a broad, solid platform from which to give others’ situations and needs a voice. I thrive on helping others know and share their stories, their legacies, as well as giving ink to my own personal treasures now and then. Writing is the common denominator between my personal and professional life.

So now, I want to hear your answers. What burning passion are you either flaming or stifling, and why? And remember, don’t stop with a faulty answer. Keep working through any current perceived or real limitation until you find at least one action you can take to get on the path to fulfill your desire. Because after all, it may be your life’s legacy—and you don’t want to rob the world of what only you can give.

I saw General Colin Powell earlier this year at a speaking engagement in North Carolina, and three things surprised me:

1. He is shorter in person than he appears on television.
2. He is truly humorous.
3. He is more genuinely interesting and engaging than I anticipated.

Focusing on that third surprise (although the humor part was the biggest shock) and as we’re approaching another Veterans Day, I’m sharing a little of General Powell’s words about the U.S. and leadership. Nothing revolutionary here, but good advice. None of us is above a reminder, right?

How national sentiment shapes personal sentiment

General Powell says that “Every nation touches us, we touch every nation.” We can’t escape globalization, and he believes we must “protect ourselves but not shut ourselves off” from the world. “No terrorist can ever change the shape of what we are.”

We lose sight of that, don’t we? As a nation and as individuals. Especially when there’s a senseless tragedy that has any shade or hint of terrorism attached. Reactions come furiously fast. It’s the same for us on a more intimate level, too. Take out the terrorist angle but leave in the trauma, and whether it’s business or personal, our first response is that involuntary knee jerk if we don’t take a moment to process the “attack.” When a business project vanishes that wasn’t merely expected but promised, what’s your initial thought? When a friend betrays you, what do you do?

Yes, terrorism and tragedies and “failures” can and must certainly shape some of our “policies” and procedures and playbook rules so that we don’t fall prey to repeat them. And yet we should never allow a negative happening to change the shape of what we are. Of who we are. Not as a country or a family or an individual.

Genuine connectivity is crucial for leaders (and biz people and, well, anyone who has contact with others)

As a four-star general, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and Secretary of State, General Powell has filled some of our nation’s top leadership positions. And his philosophy as a leader has been one of not being content to command others (although of course he gave a lot of  orders as a general); his strategy has been to connect with others. Genuine connectivity is crucial if we are to be effective leaders. This applies to business owners, sales people, teachers, pastors, entrepreneurs, families, well, anyone who has any human contact with others.

“Good leaders,” he says, “reach out to followers—not just to motivate but to inspire.” He believes strongly that if you’re a leader, you must “get into the hearts and minds of people…and make a human connection.” And the real rub? “They’re not going to believe your words; they’re going to believe your deeds.” Ah, right, leaders have to set good examples. Isn’t this simple truth one that trips up a lot of folks?!

Giving others “a sense of purpose” plus being trustworthy is big stuff too

As you’d expect, he says leaders also “have to be tough,” discipling when needed. But way beyond that, he believes leaders must give others “a sense of purpose” as well as the proper training and tools—and deserved recognition. There’s also that whole trust thing. Another simple principle that some people, politicians especially, seem not to grasp. Trust, in a leader, says General Powell, manifests itself as “courage, integrity, character.”

Do you employ methods or uphold (and live out) values?

In short, General Powell believes that leaders need to “get back to fundamentals.” And here’s my phrase that I believe to the core of my being: We can’t treat fundamentals (trust, connection, recognition, whatever) as methods to employ, but values to uphold.

And to close with a national nod, I’ll leave you with how General Powell feels about our country: “We are still that place of hope and dreams and opportunities.” Even now.

Your challenge? Take that hopeful, there-are-still-opportunities attitude. Marry it (with divorce NOT an option) with my sentence above (about upholding values). Now, let’s get past lip-service leadership to live our lives in alignment with what we say we believe.

Great comments from the first part of this blog. Thank you for sharing! To recap: The most memorable birthdays are the ones that boast caring (whether self-care and/or deliberate thoughtfulness by others).

In reading your replies and talking with others about their best birthday memories (which included lots of smiles and wistful looks), I must confess: The above title is way too narrow. Candles—and care—should extend to every celebration. And, the real point, you need to have more celebrations. Mark more events. Deem more days “special” and worthy of a little care (and candles).

I’m not talking about spending money to throw parties or stressing yourself out by adding more “shoulds” to your list. Some celebrations can be as simple as getting out real plates and grabbing your family to all sit down for dinner at the same time. Others could involve a two-minute phone call to rejoice with someone else on their special day.

Commemorate birthdays and anniversaries—not only marriages but all the milestone events: when you stopped smoking; when you moved into your new home; when you started your business; when you met your best friend. The possibilities are endless. Determine which occasions you want to declare as special. Don’t reserve celebrations only for “established” or “monumental” events; start new traditions and claim “lesser” happenings as reasons to spread cheer.

Why should we declare more special occasions? It’s back to the whole “care and thoughtfulness” thing. There’s no better, easier, and more genuine way to show that we care than when we remember and observe the happenings in our lives and the lives of those around us. Because by doing so, what we’re really doing is honoring people. And as we saw in the previous post, when we take a little time to celebrate and love one another, that joy can keep circulating for decades.

What will you celebrate and who can you honor this week?

Related Articles:

• Why Candles Are Crucial for Birthdays (Part 1)
• Make Every Day a Special Occasion