The Outcome Does Not Matter

It’s time you freed yourself from creative paralysis.

You know that big idea you have?

Come on, you know the one. It:

• is way too daunting. You don’t know where to begin.
• is the one you told someone about. Their reaction wasn’t what you were looking for, so you shelved it.
• is the one you say you’re too busy to do.
• is absolutely, positively going to fail. Rejection sucks, so why start?

Light bulb! I knew you’d remember it. Anyway, here’s the deal.

You are focused on the wrong thing.

On days when I feel particularly motivated, I go to the gym before work. There are many other members already lifting weights, dancing with elliptical machines, and sprinting on treadmills. But before sunrise, the basketball court is typically deserted. So that’s where I like to be.

When I step onto the court, my presence wakes the motion-activated lights. It’s a little chilly, which encourages me to hurry up and elevate my heart rate a bit. Each dribble pounds a satisfying rumble throughout the gym. The clang of the rim points and laughs at my inadequacies, while the swish of the net—still my favorite sound—joyfully praises my hard work.

Eventually, and much sooner than I’d like because I’m aging at alarming speed, I tire. So I visit the free throw line, and I shoot 15-footers. Again and again and again.

Two dribbles. Slight knee bend. Inhale. Confident follow through. Exhale. Swish.

This place, at this solitary moment, is where I most regularly achieve a state of flow. The rest of the world melts away, and I am alone with my singular task of setting the net on fire. My mind wanders, yet I remain focused. The physical motions are automatic, yet I am fully aware of my pulsating senses. My brain generates ideas while my body enjoys being free of its cerebral crutch, if only for a moment.

It’s cool.

I bring up basketball because 15 years ago, I played for my high school team. It was life and death to me. The cheers after a made jumper fueled me, and the “AIR BALL” chants after, you guessed it, an air ball, sent me into a tailspin. I cared so much about the outcome of each shot. It caused me to play with tension, not freedom.

I want to go back 15 years and talk to that kid. Tell him that this sport, this team, do indeed deserve his best. But he’s focused on the wrong thing.

How to free yourself from creative paralysis:

1. Do the work. Lifting weights? Get your reps in. Playing basketball? Shoot those free throws. Got a big idea? Sit down and work on it.
2. Do it right. It is essential that you respect the process. Work free of distractions. Honor the fundamentals of the craft. You are giving your time, but that’s not enough. Give your focus.
3. Trust your skills. This is what I want to tell my 18-year-old self most of all. And you, my friend, much like that gangly teenager, have a passion for something. It’s what you were put on this earth to do. But you’re nervous you’ll come up short. You make excuses to avoid the sweat. You want to quit because you’re scared of rejection. Don’t. You’re doing the work and you’re doing it right. Trust your gifts. Keep going.
4. Forget the outcome. Whether you succeed or fail truly does not matter. You did the work, you did it right, and you trusted in the gifts that were given to you. Even if you failed today, success is coming tomorrow.

I have some news. You’re human. You’re going to succeed sometimes, and you’re going to fail sometimes. I urge you to shift your focus away from those outcomes and enjoy the process of creating.

Make no mistake, failure hurts. It might be a manuscript that was rejected, a dream job you didn’t get, or a crucial free throw that clanged off the rim. Do not focus on that. Get back on the line, banish distractions, and trust your gifts.

Two dribbles. Slight knee bend. Inhale. Confident follow through. Exhale.