For the last two days, I?ve been sitting at my computer itching to write something epic.
Looking at the blank screen, thinking of words I can write to convey the feeling I have inside that I need to share something epic and life-changing.
And I come up blank.
I have an inkling of what I?m about to say, and then I ask myself how it will end.
How the words that precede the final sentence will be strong enough to hook the reader to guide them to the last sentence that will, undoubtedly, change their lives.
And I come up blank.
I imagine the story I?ll tell to convey a lesson, personal or business. I imagine the memories I?ll revisit to open up demons, to help others fight their own and make it to the other side.
I imagine the emotion I?ll invoke to make readers think this is one of the most amazing blog posts they?ve ever read, and ever will.
And I come up blank.
And that?s okay ? because we?re only fooling ourselves that everything needs to be epic.
[clickToTweet tweet=”When we produce #content, we tell ourselves it needs to be epic every time. But does it?” quote=”When we produce content, we tell ourselves it needs to be epic every time. But does it?”]
Everything we put out for others to consume is already epic, because we?re opening ourselves up to critique, belittlement, and crushing disappointment if others don?t like it.
And we continue to do so, even when harsh voices tell us not to ? because all we really need is our own validation that we did the best we could, every time we hit Publish.
So embrace the blank screen. Embrace the empty mind. Embrace the still keyboard.
Because sooner or later, the next epic chapter of that which is uniquely you will be live for everyone to see.
And that, my friends, is truly epic.