Blog
Has this ever happened to you?
You sit down with an idea for this week’s blog post. Let’s say you’re a life coach and you want to talk about worthiness. You had a good idea the other day in the dentist office, and now, as the blank page is in front of you, the cursor blinking, you’re gripped with the thought:
I have nothing new to say.
I had a client ask me recently “I’ve been struggling with content creation lately. How can I tell if I need to shift gears and take a break, or just sit down and get it done?”
It’s a good question. And one I struggle with a lot. Assuming you have clear messaging, identified content themes and a communication plan, sometimes the writing itself just feels tough some days.
One of my favorite authors Ann Lamott says: “How to write: Stop not writing. Get and keep your butt in the chair.” I’ve followed her advice for decades, and it’s helped in my writing, my life and in my business.
But the real issue with the question this client asked isn’t butt in chair vs. break. It’s that it’s not an either-or situation at all…
In my last post, I shared common misperceptions that often stand in the way of women blogging as a way to share their message with the world. Sometimes, though, the reason women aren’t blogging has more to do with fear than misunderstanding.
How you can recognize if fear is at play so you can get out of your own way and share your message with the world?
Here are six signs.
The women I work with – the coaches, the healers, the creatives – all have a meaningful message deep inside their hearts they want to share with world. These women are strong, passionate women, and yet often, when we look at blogging as a compelling way to share that message, many are resistant.
The business owners typically “get” the value of blogging to support their business but have a mixed relationship with it.
This week here in the U.S., we celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday, and I turn my attention more fully to gratitude. I’d like to reshare a piece of writing I wrote nearly two years ago. Even though life has, in many aspects, moved on from what it was then, I know that tapping into a profound sense of gratitude, often for the simplest things – the late autumn sun, the ability to put pen to paper, the breath rising in my body – can always fill me with more than enough.
