Love is the Way, Mastery Masquerades as Intuition, and Sometimes You Just Know.
Vic Braden can watch videos of top tennis players about to serve and tell you, before racket connects with ball, who will double fault. He just knows.
It’s because – as my imaginary boyfriend Malcolm Gladwell would tell us (and did tell us in Blink) – the unconscious mind can filter out superfluous information and give us answers and insight that feels like intuition…
…but it only feels like intuition because we can’t explain the unconscious process that produced the epiphany.
So although that kind of insight is seemingly inexplicable, it’s not random or even woo. It’s mastery. It’s what happens when you know something so deeply, intimately, thoroughly that you can’t explain how you know it.
That’s why Vic Braden can’t explain how he knows which players will double fault. He just knows.
I’m no tennis pro but I can do that with writing and online messaging. When it comes to story and prose and platform, I just know. I just know how your message should sound. I just know what you should do next. I just know what will work for you.
I Just Know…But I’m Not Winging It.
But it’s not like angels are whispering or the muse is visiting. It’s not otherwordly or random. I’m not winging it. There’s a process. I’ve got a step-by-step methodology borne of four years of online consulting/digital strategizing and oh, 32 years of writing experience (sure, I’m starting waaaaaay back with my grade two stories, because they started everything).
I’m starting there because what that tells me is that I’ve always been a writer. I wrote my way through university (honours Poli Sci, baaaaaby). I wrote my way out of $400 of university library fines. True story. I wrote a ballad asking for my overdue charges to be forgiven, and they were. Ask (lyrically) and ye shall receive. I wrote my way into jobs I wasn’t qualified for (yet) and my writing kept me in them…successfully. And in every job, I just knew how to compellingly present information. I knew how to write a brochure before I ever wrote a brochure. Then, suddenly, it was my job to write brochures. And newsletters. And grant applications. And proposals and funding reports and feature articles and social media profiles and dating profiles (ok that wasn’t REALLY my job but our baby’s nine months old so my work speaks for itself) and press releases and press kits. And websites.
And then I surrendered, admitted I really was a writer, and quit my job to be a writer. I came home. Literally and metaphorically.
Home is doing what you know. Home is where you can’t eve explain how you know what you know…but you know you’ve mastered it.
Or are on your way to mastering it — because “just knowing” is both where you start and where you end. Just knowing doesn’t mean you don’t have to work at it; it means that when you do work at it, you get better, faster than you would at anything else.
Which brings me to my grand, audacious question for you (and it’s important because it tells you where you’ll be most at home):