How Big Is Your Cup?

It feels darn good to be back.

I can honestly say, my little blogging break has done me a world of good. It’s allowed me to focus on the things in my freelance business that really matter, sort out some priorities, and hone in on my core competencies and primary objectives.

Thank you all for your patience, and thank you for coming back today. You’ve been missed, truly.

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photo credit: shioshvili

When I first met married my wife back in December of 1996, I loved her and her 2 year-old daughter with everything that was in my being. I thought, as we drove away from the courthouse in downtown Indianapolis on that cold day, that there was no way in the world I would ever lover her more.

I was wrong.

You see, in March of 1998, our daughter Elisabeth was born. It was a rough pregnancy, and it was a bit tenuous right after Ellie was born, but we came through it all right. In fact, we came through it stronger than ever. By December of 1998, I realized that my love for Angie was bigger than ever. I loved her more than I ever thought I could.

When I left the IT field to get my Master’s degree, things were hard. I was struggling with depression and anxiety, and there were days where I was barely functional. Angie saw me through those times, and by the time my freelance writing career began to kick off, I realized that my love for her was, yet again, bigger than it was before.

I was thinking last week about my college days. I recall a particular professor, Wilbur Williams, who was in his 60s when I first met him. He often talked lovingly about his wife, Ardelia. He told how, in their decades of marriage, they had continued to grow more and more in love with each other. My wife and I were very much the same.

Professor Williams used to describe love as a cup. When you first meet and fall in love, your little cup fills up pretty quickly. As time goes on, though, you replace that little cup with a mug. If you don’t continually work to fill up your mug, you’ll feel less and less in love. By the time you hit one, and then two, and then three decades of marriage, you’ve got a giant bowl, and it’s either full of love for your spouse, or it’s not.

That’s why so many relationships fail. As we grow older, our capacity for love grows. If we fill that with something other than love for the other person, it mucks everything up.

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What does this have to do with writing?

Well, a writing business , if you’re doing it right, will continue to expand in its possibilities. You’ll find new ways to sell your writing, new clients, new types of writing, and even other sorts of related business. If you don’t give your business the nourishment it needs as it grows, everything gets mucked up.

My successful little writing business, which was once a little bitty espresso cup, is now a full-fledged Starbucks Venti. If it gets any bigger, it’ll become a bucket.

To keep things going, to keep things from getting mucked up, I’ve had to find new ways to fill my cup. I’m working with some other writers to see just how much qaulity content we can produce. I’ve brought on an administrative assistant to help organize our gigs and help keep all of our ducks in a row. I’m mapping out long-term plans, diving into new types of writing business, and finding creative ways to add significant value to my end product.

To be sure, I’ve made mistakes along the way. Like my marriage, my freelance career hasn’t always been a bed of roses. But also like my marriage, I am more committed to and enjoying my business today than I ever have before.

And that’s the lesson for today, folks: if you want to be successful as a freelancer, don’t fight growth. Nurture it, care for it, and do it right, but don’t fight it. If you do, you’ll find yourself less committed and less satisfied than you could be.