Pop by and fire up the conversation. I'd be ever so grateful.

From the Upmarket "About" page:

About Upmarket Magazine

Upmarket is all about creating remarkable, creative businesses. Our focus is on small (and micro!) businesses that push the envelope, the people who run them, and where to find the guts and insight to build them. Our heroes are standouts like Leo Baubata, Danielle LaPorte and Derek Sivers — just to name a few.

What do we feature in Upmarket? Case studies, reviews, tips & tricks, surprising shortcuts, what works (and what doesn’t). Upmarket is about the artistic, important, and authentic aspects of business. We tell stories about the businesses that are doing it right and provide information and resources to readers who are interested in making their business successful in delightful ways. It’s work — and it’s personal, too. We believe that role models matter, and that succeeding today requires more than just a simple how-to manual.

As silence sometimes does, what began as a simple lack of sound became a thing in itself, a force nudging, then pushing.

"So, you gonna just stand there?"

"I'm trying to decide where to go."

"Where you were going seemed just fine."

"I thought so, too. But I thought I'd be there by now."

"Clearly you're not."

"I don't even know if I'm close."

"Perhaps you need a better look, a higher vantage point."

And the silence was once again silence.

Laying down his pack, he found a suitable branch in the underbrush and began digging.

Realized today for the 11th time (more or less) that I'm making decisions based on what others expect, or what I think I should, or what's "logical" (as if I could know that.)

Decided today, for the 3rd time in my life, that if I'm going to have what I have, no matter what changes I try (see previous paragraph about making bad decisions poorly) then by gum, I might as well be doing what I want instead of what I should.

By the time I'm a hundred and sixty-two I'll have it all sorted out.

A few weeks ago I took Sally Hogshead's Fascination Assessment. My two triggers were passion and rebellion—the Catalyst.

This morning, in their resignation email, a member of an online group I chair made some painful personal attacks, including the phrase "the stench of the snake-oil salesman" (yes, they were explicit about meaning me.)

This person's ongoing commentary makes it clear that they wholeheartedly support the gatekeepers of traditional publishing. I disagree entirely. I understand that if I choose an unconventional path, the old school won't like me. It hurts, but I'll live.

This morning I took another version of the Fascination Assessment.

Rebellion was listed as my dormant trigger, the one I'm least likely to make use of. Unconsciously, I adjusted my stance about obedience to authority and following the rules, clearly based on a total stranger's incorrect opinion of me.

I'm fortunate to be driving an hour north to have lunch with the founder of the group I'm part of, an author, Holocaust survivor and powerful advocate of independent publishing.

I think I'll play some loud prog rock and get my rebel on.

I used to build things for people.

Then, I started showing people how to solve problems.

Now, I show myself why I do all this.

Not just any city would do. He'd heard of a beautiful city whose smile would fill his soul, whose touch would inspire his dreams, whose breath would take his own away. Trusting that this ethereal place was the proper milieu for his own good judgment and drive, he set out.

Knowing the journey would be long and hard, he prepared well. He packed efficiently, found the best maps, and ate a hearty breakfast of whole grains and strong tea before stepping across his parents' threshold.

Long and hard it was indeed. But his strong back and stronger mind were more than a match for the challenges of road and wilderness.

Five years passed.

Surely, you think, as did he, that five years was time enough to reach that fair land. Faulty maps and hardships in the land somehow made his progress seem like that dream state where feet move, but don't move us.

One day he remembered that beautiful city, and realized that while she was worth a five-day journey, even a five-week journey, that a five-year journey without sight of turret or light wasn't his original bid.

In that moment came the realization that he no longer cared about that city which had been naught but a dream. His reality was the hard work of a road-weary traveler.

New eyes in a long-bowed head saw nothing but wilderness.

Had he really spent a measurable portion of his life and energy on a journey whose only result was to take him away from his place, without giving him a new one?

And the wilderness was silent.

My goal in life isn't to be a blog writer.

I'm going to cut back to one post every day except Sunday, and use the rest of this outpouring of writing energy to work on my books.

Two lists:

1. Where I'll be posting:
   • Spinhead
   • Someday Box
   • Finding Why
   • Know Your Music
   • Chief Virtual Officer
   • my personal blog
2. What I'll be writing instead:
   • You Don't Want a Job
   • Peacefully Courting the Muse
   • I Know You Think You Understand What I Said but What You Don't Understand is That What I Said is Not What I Meant
   • Into the Fog (the sequel to Through the Fog)
   • another mystery, more Chandleresque
   • the big important novel I started but which I'm scared to finish

I suspect their won't be a strict rotation to which posts are on which days. Also, since I still have to write 20 music posts in 4 weeks to have 300 posts by my music blog's 10th anniversary, I'll be writing there almost every day.

Otherwise, I'm focusing on these books.

I've discovered another benefit.

I wish I knew what this meant

I've been teaching my brain that writing is a priority. When I was checking my email, reading my daily blog reads first thing every morning, when it came time to start writing for the day it felt like an interruption of what I was already doing

Now I wake up and I write, and Facebook, blog posts, trivial emails I used to spend time on feel like an interruption of the important work of writing. My brain has accepted that what I do first is what's most important. I like that.

But wait; there's more! What we pay attention to grows. This "most important thing" is happening more often on its own. I used to struggle to write two or three blog posts a week. Now at my five different blogs (I'm still working on focus) I am writing 10 to 15 posts a week. Yesterday wrote another 3,000 words on my newest book.

There's a reason that the word priority comes from the same word as the word first. If it's the most important, do it first. Not hard to figure out. Unless you're human.

Well, stop it.

Success is not a place to go, a destination, a final state of being.

When an actor finally wins an Oscar, do they stop acting? In many cases, that's when their career really takes off.

How about an author? If you're going to be published, there are so many milestones, so many stumble stones:

• starting
• sticking to it
• finishing the book
• marketing

Any one of these can stop an aspiring author cold. Every one overcome is a success.

And when it's over, many authors start all over again. They're successful, too.

Stop dreaming of being successful someday. Success is not a destination.

Success is action. Success is overcoming. Success is when you woo the muse every day, when you find another way to be creative in your business, when you give generously without thought of repayment.

Success is what you're doing right now, every day.

You are successful.

Recognize it. Make it a habit. Ride it to your dreams—but let some of them be, not someday, but now.