You Need Higher Stakes
When’s the last time you actually had some real pressure to complete something?
Recently, I tried getting my drone license for fun. Real complex stuff. I had to learn to read airspace sectional charts, and METAR reports, and all other sorts of aviational jargon. Google what those look like really quick to see what I mean. The METAR reports looked like an alien language. That was where I felt in over my head; in no time at all, I quit. Which was strange; I knew getting my certification would result in a sense of accomplishment– broadening horizons. In every way I was able to rationalize how pushing through the course would lead to a positive outcome for me. But I still quit. Why?
Later, for the company I am currently contracted under, they asked us to set quarterly goals that would move the company forward in our individual departments. I create video content for the company, and remembered how the previous creative director had tried getting his UAV license (allowing the company to incorporate drone footage into their marketing without accruing any potential legal fines). He was gone, and I sat in his place. Part of me resisted the idea that I should make my company aware of this goal; if I pursued it on my own time, there would be no pressure to succeed. If I did it as a publicly stated department goal– on their dime– I was expected to pass and would be held accountable for failure. I acted before my desire for comfort could talk me down. I told them about the course, about the previous marketing director’s goal, and that I’d like to take it up as my own personal goal. They paid for the course– now someone other than me cared if I passed. Sure enough, I began the course again– this time with some accountability. I got back to the METAR report portion, the part I had previously given up on. I had a reason to push through the discomfort of learning an alien language– the discomfort of an unhappy supervisor.
Similarly, just a few months before, I’d settled on writing the rough draft of my second novel (and the first I’d ever intended to take all the way to publishing). Before I could allow myself to back out of it for the dozenth time, I leaned over to my coworker sitting at the desk next to me. “Jamey, if I don’t have 50,000 words on this Google Doc by April 15th, 2024, I owe you $1000 dollars. Shake on it.” A month rolled by. I finished the draft.
The moral of the story is, you need less time, higher stakes, and more accountability. Make it hard to slack off. Set up the systems before you can cheat yourself out of a better future. In a world where everyone is always looking for a way out, look for a way in.
