19 Sep The Calamity of Shipping Good Work

“Well, are you excited?” she asked, expecting, of course, an affirmative answer.

“I’m not sure ‘excited’ is the right word,” I shot back with the kind of nervous candor reserved for these types of conversations. “It’s in the right family of words, but I don’t actually think it’s the correct word for this particular situation. ‘Skittish’ might be closer. ‘Edgy’ is probably more appropriate. ‘Terrified’ isn’t too far off.”

In 45 days, my first book will line the shelves of bookstores across America. In 45 days, 65,000 words worth of ideas that were created in my brain and recorded on paper will be instantly available to anyone with an Internet connection (so, everyone). In 45 days, many people who’ve never wondered how to pronounce my last name will wonder how to pronounce my last name. In 45 days, on November 5th, 2013, Shark Tank Jump Start Your Business—the official business book for ABC’s hit show Shark Tank—will arrive on doorsteps across America. And while strangers, friends, and foe, flip or swipe their way through the almost 300 pages worth of content, I will quietly wake up and go about my day, with little knowledge as to what might occur next.

There is something magnificent about putting work out into the world. Many of us are addicted to it. But no matter how sensational that moment may feel, no matter how deliciously pulpy or rich the experience, it’s always, always coupled with agonizing fear. And if it isn’t, well, I’d wonder whether that work should exist in the first place. But fear is often misunderstood. It isn’t the enemy; it’s the first sign that relief is on its way. Fear is nothing more than concentrated potential, before it’s ever validated or realized in the first place.

The work we do, the effort we put forth, becomes an integral part of the identity we create and the legacy we leave behind. And while shipping anything is always tough, it’s that toughness that makes us tough. It’s the unknown that has the potential to make us known.

The clock is set. In 45 days, my work, perhaps my greatest professional contribution thus far, will ship. And there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe “excited” is the right word.