I’m dyslexic (yes, spell check had to help me with that spelling). I used that as an excuse for not starting this newsletter, which is a job that’s mostly writing in public.
I’d had the title Faark, I Hope It’s Not Too Late years ago. I wasn’t sure what it would actually be. I toyed with a coaching programme (I’m a certified ICF coach), an ebook, a podcast, a newsletter. This was nearly ten years ago.
Ten years of not starting. Now that I look back, that’s more embarrassing than poor spelling and grammar in public.
Why ideas sit still
Sitting on an idea doesn’t feel like failure while it’s happening. It feels like patience. You’re waiting for the right time, waiting to figure it out (I wrote a whole article about that one) It’s the mature and sensible thing to do. Starting now would be rash, and it would fail.
The idea of not putting something out until it’s ready feels like professionalism. It’s the same instinct that’s kept me employed for more than thirty years. I’ve spent that time working in broadcasting, where you don’t go to air half-baked. That instinct served me well in newsrooms, control rooms and boardrooms, and it nearly killed the newsletter before it started.
I started this newsletter because, well, honestly, because I was ready to stop pretending that coasting to retirement was enough.
That’s the real reason I finally made a small bet and published an article. That, and I’d lost patience with my own excuses.
I’d done this before but forgot
The crazy thing is I already knew how to do this. As a teen working as an edit assistant, I made music videos with mates, for other mates’ bands. Years later, working as a news editor in London, I made a documentary on the side about New Zealanders living there, called London, Where’s the Beach. Nobody asked for either one. We just did them. We didn’t wait until we were ready, or until we had the time.
I’d made small bets before. I’d forgotten that the way to get an idea up and running isn’t to wait until you’re ready. It’s to do the embarrassingly small thing that gets things moving. That’s it. That’s the whole plan, the secret blueprint: a series of small bets that turn into the thing.
Try this
Call out the idea you’ve been sitting on. Work out how long you’ve actually gone without acting on it. That feels painful, but it’s really just a fact, and facts are usually less frightening once they’re out in the open.
Then pick the smallest version of that idea you could put out this week. Not the launch version. The version you’d be a bit embarrassed to show anyone. Do it anyway.
An idea that’s been sitting for years doesn’t need more thinking time. It’s had plenty. It needs you to stop being patient with yourself.
I waited. Then I didn’t. That’s the story.
Stop planning the big leap. Make a small bet.
Most of the people I’ve interviewed on the podcast didn’t reinvent themselves in one dramatic move. They started a small thing on the side, and one day they looked up and it had become their actual job.
That’s a small bet, and I’ve built a kit to help you make one.
It’s five short lessons, a worksheet, and a coach you can talk to that asks the awkward questions and shrinks your idea until it’s embarrassingly small. Two weeks, one real first move, no quitting your job required.
It’s US$15. No hustle, no 5am alarms, and nobody telling you to bet the house.
[Get the Small Bet Kit] → https://generalistalan.eden.so/small-bet-kit
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