I recently said “no” to a new business opportunity. It was hard to turn down, given that I had already said “yes.” But somewhere between agreeing over the phone and waiting for the contract to arrive, I got a feeling.

Something was off. A little worm wiggling around my belly. Felt like I drank some expired milk in the sun.

I’d later lie, and say that it wasn’t personal. But the feeling came from one of the partners I’d be working with. I still can’t put my finger on it, but there was something. Something that made my Spidey-Sense tingle.

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Last night Ava and I played a few hands of Gin Rummy and I was reminded of an embarrassing truth:

I can’t shuffle a deck of cards.

I don’t mean that I can’t shuffle like a casino dealer. I mean that I can’t shuffle at the level you’d expect from a small child without thumbs. Watching me try is as painful as it is amusing. I play cards with my parents and they laugh, but not without a hint of disappointment. “Maybe don’t do that in front of your friends,” my mother says lovingly.

My problem isn’t the absence of…

We weren’t sure what caused them to fall so fast and frequently. They weren’t dead. It wasn’t fall. But every night, long after dusk and far before dawn, the ficus tree dropped hundreds of green leaves onto the deck. They spread over the patio table and chairs. They stretched the length of the deck in all directions, catching between the wooden boards and piling in every corner.

Each morning they’d greet, and each morning I’d sweep.

I’d hear their rustling over my own in bed at night. “That wasn’t the wind. That was a hand shaking the tree like a…

Every year I write a post-year write-up of my favorite books and tell myself it’s going to be the last time.

One reason: these lists are everywhere. Even Barak Obama shares his every December. Most people don’t read more than a few books a year. And those who read more tend to have their own list they are trying to get to. This is why it’s such an honor when someone takes the time to read my book.

I’m also suspicious of the idea that writers are the best people to recommend books to non-writers. Writers are impressed by different…

It feels strange to say. I almost feel guilty saying it. And I understand that not everyone will join me in unison to say it as well. But it needs to be said:

2020 was a great year.

Before you call me insensitive or out of touch, I want to acknowledge the obvious horrors of the last twelve months. The pandemic has taken 1.8 million lives worldwide. We went through a dumpster-fire election that proved how divided we are as a country. There’s massive unemployment, homelessness, and a growing gap between the haves and have nots. …

“A non-writing writer is a monster courting madness.” -Franz Kafka

It’s the 2013 Tribeca Film Festival and Darren Aronofksy is on stage interviewing fellow filmmaker, Clint Eastwood. He tells him, “You make it seem so easy — and for me filmmaking is pain. I’m in pain the whole time. I’m in pain writing. I’m in pain shooting, and I’m in pain editing, and I just — how do you do it?”

Eastwood lets Aronofsky’s question hang in the air before answering with his slow, signature draw, “Well, if it was that painful, I would consider myself somewhat of a masochist.”

…

If you’re a Freelancer who wants to increase income, independence, and security (the Freelancer Trifecta), then the last thing you want to do is increase “productivity.” You want to increase accountability.

Being paid based on the hours you work is the slow and certain death of the Freelancer. And no amount of “optimizing your time” will help you escape this death unless you can create more accountability between yourself and your clients.

The problem is that most people are drawn to Freelance because it promises independence. Work from anywhere! Be your own boss! Because of this, many freelancers hear the…

It was two years ago when I turned a slow-paced marathon toward mental and emotional burnout into a full-blown sprint. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. Those around me certainly did. But by the time I realized how far off the path I’d strayed, it was too late to turn around.

Between working full time, planning a wedding, and trying to write my first book, I was spread thin. And while I probably could have managed everything in my life with better systems and more “work/life balance,” the problem wasn’t in how much I was trying to do.

…