I’ve spent a lot of my career as a professional spectator at some of the world’s great events: Olympic Games, America’s Cups, Poll Tax protests, world championships, plus many, many personal stories turned into television programmes.
Sometimes it’s felt like my nose was pressed up against the glass watching the world happen. This is my third attempt at running a regular newsletter (we used to call it blogging). I’d bang out a few posts, nobody would read them, and I’d feel like an imposter. Cue the quiet fade to black, and my blog/newsletter became yet another orphan left sitting alone on the web.
This time has been different. I’ve stuck with it, no matter how I feel. I’ve committed to writing an article a week. This is me stepping out of the audience and onto the stage.
It turns out you can just do things. No permission needed.
The problem: Audience mode is comfy but costly
I don’t think this is just me. A lot of people hit their 40s or 50s and quietly decide it’s “too late” to start something. Two culprits show up on cue:
Sunk cost fallacy: sticking with a job, business, or identity simply because you’ve already invested years in it, even when the best future value sits elsewhere. It’s like eating a bad meal because you’ve already paid, instead of walking out and getting something you’ll actually enjoy.
Imposter syndrome: the internal monologue that whispers, “Who am I to…? What if nobody buys my…? Do people even think I can…?”
At work, you might run the room because you are the boss. But when it comes to starting something of your own? Suddenly you’re asking for permission that nobody needs to grant.
Stop auditioning for a role you already have: the main act in your own life.
Ghosts of careers past
Shakespeare and Dickens in one piece, why not. I went to a memorial service for an old colleague last week. Great speeches, moving videos, a life well lived. What stuck with me, though, was a conversation I overheard from a group I used to work with. They were yearning for the “good old days” when they were relevant in an industry that’s since shifted.
These were smart people with deep skills that could absolutely be brought to bear in today’s digital world, consulting, creating, teaching, building. But the vibe was Miss Havisham energy: candles lit for what was, rather than setting the table for what’s next.
Nostalgia is cosy. It’s also a trap.
The solution: Get on the stage you’ve already built
You can just start. No committee. No credentials. No gatekeeper. Late is a story; not a fact.
Alan Rickman didn’t break through on screen until his 40s.
Vera Wang became a designer at 40.
Mary Berry became a household name in her 70s.
Satya Nadella reinvented Microsoft mid‑career.
You don’t need a perfect plan. You need a first rep.
Momentum beats confidence. Confidence arrives after momentum.
Try this
Write the headline for the project you want to be known for in 12 months’ time. Keep it to one line.
Under it, list the smallest public action that proves you’re serious (publish a landing page, book a test client, announce a date).
Put that action in your calendar this week. Non‑negotiable.
Quick start list: five ways to move from audience to stage
Define your tiny stage Choose the smallest space where you can perform weekly: a newsletter, a YouTube Short, a podcast clip, a LinkedIn post, a micro‑workshop. Lower the bar until you can’t not show up.
Ship on a cadence, not on courage. Pick your publish day and protect it. When the fear spikes, hit “send” anyway.
Build in public Share your process, not just your polish. Post drafts, lessons, early wins and losses. People back momentum and honesty.
Find three real people.Talk to three potential customers/clients/readers this week. Ask what they’re stuck on. Offer one concrete help. Charge or don’t, but make it real.
No‑permission plan. Write a one‑page plan you can execute without anyone’s approval: scope, first deliverable, price (if relevant), date, and what “shipped” means. Then follow it.
What about the “what ifs”?
What if nobody buys? Good. You’ve bought clarity. Adjust the offer, the audience, or the channel — not your worth.
What if I look foolish? You will, occasionally. It’s the price of learning in public. All pros were awkward beginners who didn’t stop.
What about the mortgage/kids/elder‑care? Keep your job and start small. Treat your idea like a side‑car, not a cliff jump. Design for safety, not drama.
The mindset shift
You are not late. You’re seasoned. You’ve got reps, context, and taste. The sunk costs are behind you; the compounding is ahead of you.
Be less precious, more prolific. Start smaller, ship sooner, learn faster.
Wrap‑up
So what are we going to do? The thing you’ve been turning over in your head for years, we’re doing it. We’re starting. We’re not waiting for permission. We’re not waiting until it’s “ready”. We’re certainly using “too late” as a reason not to.
Pick your tiny stage. Choose your cadence. Ship something this week. Then again next week.
If this hit a nerve, forward it to one person who needs a nudge — or hit reply and tell me what you’re starting. I’ll read every one.