Sooner or later, this job wears you down. On choosing to lean in, and why loving the work starts with finding something to love in it.
Timelines and deadlines.
FinalRound_V4s.
Little tweaks.
People using the word “bandwidth.”
Sooner or later, this job finds a way to wear you down. When that happens—and it will happen—it will be nearly impossible to ignore the siren song of phoning it in.
Now I could tell you to fight the good fight; to plug your ears, strap yourself to the ship’s mast and keep your eyes on the horizon, but I won’t. Your job is just one part of your life and how you choose to spend your precious time on this spinning rock is entirely up to you.
But.
If you’re anything like me and you want to make something worth making, then you must ignore that sweet, sweet music and instead, find something you can love. Or at the very least like. I learned this lesson the hard way.
A few years back, I hit a wall. I felt like I was stuck in an endless loop of menial, aimless assignments and the dream job I’d worked so hard to get was becoming a nightmare, so I started phoning it in. I used clever turns of phrase and all of the right buzzwords to create generic slop that was good enough to get me through the day. I didn’t think anyone would notice, until a senior creative pulled me aside.
He said, “I can tell by the way you write that you hate this.” I assumed the next thing he’d tell me was to pack up my desk, but instead he gave me a choice: I could keep doing what I was doing and I’d probably be fine for the time being, but I’d stay right where I was. My other option was to lean in; to embrace what was in front of me and start looking for opportunities instead of excuses. I chose the latter.
I started digging for the little golden nuggets buried in my briefs. I mined my own life experiences for inspiration. I thought about the things I personally loved and found ways to connect those things to my work. I asked so very many stupid questions.
Then, lo and behold, my writing got better, which meant my assignments got better, which meant my work got better because someone was good enough to tell me that if I ever expected anybody to love what I was making, then I had to find a way to love making it. And now I’m telling you.
