On walking away.

Uhm, why did I get into this writing thing again? "Force Quit" So much of creating alone is working past the very real possibility of failure in everything that you do. I've tried working past this possibility by overcompensating: chest-pumping, dick-swinging, cigar-chomping, etc. (It doesn't work.) I've also tried working past this possibility by moving and creating at light speed, before the possibility of failing becomes too crippling. (This kind of works, but not really.) I've yet to figure out "the fix" and for the past five years I've spent writing and creating, I've really been duct-taping whilst flying the plane. (Aren't we all?) All that being said, I do think it's important to share your failures (or at least the moments that feel like failures) with others as you experience them, rather than after you're on the other side of them sitting pretty with a pile of cash. So, here's my most recent failure... For the past two years, I've invested a ton of time, energy and money into writing a weekly newsletter called Stranger Than Fiction. After 94 issues, I found myself exhausted and extremely frustrated with my inability to monetize the newsletter that was, as I just mentioned, taking up a good chunk of my time. Anyway, after throwing shit at the wall for the better part of two years, I asked of my subscribers what I felt to be a very reasonable request: upgrade to a paid version to keep this newsletter going on a weekly basis. I was bummed –– scratch that, hurt –– to find the response to be wildly underwhelming at best. So, I said "fuck it" and I force quit the entire project. I was very emotional at the time and to be candid, the conversation I was having in my head wasn't at all logical and looked something like this... "I poured my heart into this newsletter for the better part of two years and you stingy ass fuckers can't cough up a bit of dough, after 94-fucking-issues, to keep this shit going?" Yeah, I was in a dark place. Anyway, after an evening of eating copious amounts of sushi, downing a pint of ice cream, reading, reflecting and getting a good night's rest... I gained some clarity. What went down yesterday wasn't about my subscribers. It was about me. After 94 issues of writing Stranger Than Fiction, my subconscious realized my work was done and that I was ready to walk away and try something new. You make things and you show them to people and you ask them to give you money for them and sometimes they do and sometimes they don't and that's just the name of the game. Don't take it personally. Don't blame your customers. Just collect yourself on the bench, pinch your bloody nose, chug some water, dust yourself off and get back in the game. All that to say, I'm incredibly proud of Stranger Than Fiction and I'm thankful for those who subscribed to it and took the time to read it these past couple of years. And, I certainly don't consider it to be a failure (at least not entirely). Running a newsletter where each week I was forced to research a new brand doing cool shit made me a better marketer, creative and writer and that's not a failure. Now, I'm just ready to focus my attention on writing and creating things worthy of being featured in Stranger Than Fiction. But, I digress. By [Cole Schafer](. [Complete archive of Stranger Than Fiction issues.]( Sticky Notes is going "Paid". Kidding. Unlike Stranger Than Fiction, this newsletter isn't going anywhere. To say it's my life's work would be a bit dramatic. But, it is something I feel beholden to and if I'm being overly romantic, it feels like a living, breathing piece of art that I'm adding a brushstroke of paint to each week. That being said, it does mean a great deal to me when you either take the time to share it with others and encourage them to subscribe or cough up your goddamn money in one of the handfuls of ways down below... 1. You can [tweet me]( or [Instagram me]( (free). 2. You can buy my 1st book, [One Minute, Please?]( ($25). 3. You can buy my 2nd book, [After Her]( ($25). 4. You can subscribe to [Chasing Hemingway]( ($10). 5. You can buy my writing guide, [Snow Cones]( ($97). 6. You can buy my freelancing guide, [$100k]( ($97). [Or, you can buy me a Moscow Mule.]( Neil Gaiman's thoughts on Imposter Syndrome feels timely today... * Neil Gaiman is typing now * “ Some years ago, I was lucky enough to be invited to a gathering of great and good people: artists and scientists, writers and discoverers of things. And I felt that at any moment they would realise that I didn’t qualify to be there, among these people who had really done things. On my second or third night there, I was standing at the back of the hall, while a musical entertainment happened, and I started talking to a very nice, polite, elderly gentleman about several things, including our shared first name. And then he pointed to the hall of people, and said words to the effect of, “I just look at all these people, and I think, what the heck am I doing here? They’ve made amazing things. I just went where I was sent.” And I said, “Yes. But you were the first man on the moon. I think that counts for something.” And I felt a bit better. Because if Neil Armstrong felt like an imposter, maybe everyone did. Maybe there weren’t any grown-ups, only people who had worked hard and also got lucky and were slightly out of their depth, all of us doing the best job we could, which is all we can really hope for. ” [Here's the full story...]( And, let's not forget about Ira Glass's life-saving prose written to the frustrated creative... * Ira Glass is typing now * " Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know it's normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take a while. It’s normal to take a while. You’ve just gotta fight your way through. " [Hear it directly from the horse's mouth.]( P.S. If this newsletter made you weak in the knees, you can share it with the world by selecting one of the four icons down below... [Send it.]( [Send it.]( [Tweet it.]( [Tweet it.]( [Share it.]( [Share it.]( [Post it.]( [Post it.]( Copyright © 2021 Honey Copy, All rights reserved. A while back you opted into a weekly email called "Sticky Notes". Remember? 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