In minutes, I am heading for my weekly restorative yoga class. In this class, I become my opposite. Not doing, being. Not rigid, yielding. Not active, passive. Not striving, but surrendering. When I walk in, I lie down on my mat, the first thing I take is a big breath and sigh. Aaaah, home. It is time to pause.
I’ve made a living from doubt (I’ll explain shortly). I’ve frolicked in its bounty and have cried under its lash. Doubt can be cruel and merciless, and hold us back. It can be the burning sun in a waterless desert. It can be an icy wind that whips away our cloak of confidence. We want to run from self-doubt (I am sure that is not just me). We want to bathe in the cool, clear waters of conviction. But conviction is dangerously beguiling. US President Donald Trump has risen to power by promising rubbish with great conviction.
It’s not good news, is it? A big part of my professional life is spent encouraging thought leaders to get their ideas down on paper in book form, publish them, and send them out into the world: something about which many of them feel diffident, to say the least. And now, here I am, pointing out that whatever you put out there in writing (blog, book, white paper) will, in fact, be mercilessly judged by your readership.
Every thought leader who writes a book needs help. A buddy. A fellow traveller. A book is too big a project to be tackled alone. And let’s face it, it’s not so much fun on your own. I liken it to climbing Mount Everest. Every author I have worked with goes through a crisis of confidence somewhere on the way to the summit. Some only metres from the top!