Clients have been asking me about how to best pitch their books in preparation for the Agent’s Conference on June 25-27 in Austin. One of the best answers accidently arrived at my door the other evening…

I’d been in the middle of layering lasagna for dinner when the doorbell rang. Reluctantly, I left my task as my barking dog and I walked to the door. I peeked through the side window and saw a man with a clipboard. Oh no, I thought, a salesperson. I contemplated not answering it, but then I heard laughter and for some reason I opened it.

On the other side was a young man who was working for an environmental organization and was trying to get names for a petition and donations. But he couldn’t stop laughing. When he finally did, he pointed down at our floor mat, which says:

“Haiku #23
Ringing of the bell
Barking sounds behind door
Licker or biter?

Hearing our dog barking at the same time he was reading this haiku had just tickled him. And it was obvious, as our discussion went on, that he was simply a good natured kid who found more to be amused by in life than things to complain about.

Normally I can be pretty hard nosed with door to door salespeople. I have no problem sending them on their way with no contribution from our household. And before I opened the door – especially given that I was in the middle of making dinner – that’s exactly what I had planned to do. But between his laughter and his heart-felt description of the causes he was promoting (nothing felt canned about it), I melted. Before I knew it, I was signing the petition, offering to send letters, and handing him money.

Agents are no different. They may even be saying to themselves that they’ll never take on another book about how to thrive in a challenging marriage again, yet when you appear coming from a space of enthusiasm and good humor, they soften. They rethink. And maybe they even ask for the first 50 pages…

There’s nothing that takes the fun out of writing faster than needing for it to be perfect. Really. We all know the feeling. We’re trying to write something and instead of focusing internally on the message, we start thinking about who will be reading it. Not only who will read it, but what they’ll think about it. Our minds go further and further along this make-believe path (which of course we believe anyway), as if we’re psychic, imagining a random man in an easy chair reading our story, shaking his head, and thinking poor thing, perhaps she should have been a waitress instead…

Often this happens with what I call the “big deal” writing project. That’s the one that, before we’ve even begun, we’ve declared is so important that we become paralyzed and resist beginning. Some “big deal” projects may be those written for big publications, ones in a genre we’re not familiar with, or when the last thing we wrote was graded (unfavorably) years ago by our English teacher.

Even writing this newsletter is a “big deal” project. Why? Because it’s the first one I’ve done with my new business direction. Firsts of anything have the potential to take on this big, scary mantle. I’m wondering if this article should be more personal, or perhaps more “how-to” oriented? If it has the style I want? Blowing it up even bigger is that echo from my parents – first impressions are everything.

Problem is that after a while, we start making everything a big deal project, which means we procrastinate on doing it (who wants the stress!), our writing is stiff (gotta make it perfect!), and we focus so much on what to write that will please others that we lose touch with the essential thing we had to offer in the first place.

Thankfully, I’ve found myself in this position often enough that when I notice the first telltale signs of paralysis, I pause. Then I pay attention to my thoughts. I may catch myself saying “This first newsletter has to meet everyone’s expectations on the planet and be better than Tolstoy.” Hmmm… perhaps a little all or nothing thinking there? Impossible standards? So, once I have awareness of the thoughts running in the background, I can see what’s more realistic. “I am going to create this newsletter from a service-oriented, heart-centered place, and hopefully it will positively affect some of the people who read it.” Period.

I also take a deep breath and get into the present moment.  Right now I’m on my front porch, listening to the far-off shrieks of children playing tag. The wind chimes are ringing softly. I feel a slight tension in my upper back, which I’m breathing into for relaxation. As I move less from a mind spiraling out of control and instead focus inward, I remember the message I’m trying to get across. Pared down, it’s simply this – we are enough, just as is. Our writing is, too.

So, for those of you who have a “big deal” writing project ahead – or for whom every writing project feels like that, including journaling in your pajamas – I offer this. Breathe. Come back to yourself. The more you’re “out there” the less you’re in your truth. When you’re in your truth, people will listen – even if it’s not written “perfectly.” So just begin…