Without Guarantees
“How would this look if it were easy?” — that’s a question Tim Ferriss asks himself often, when he’s trying to think through a situation.
I understand the appeal. But it doesn’t quite land for me. The version that actually clicks is: “What if this were guaranteed?”
If someone told me that, at the end of this year, writing every day after work and publishing every week would bring readers, opportunities, maybe even some income, and that all I had to do was keep showing up, I’d do it without hesitation.
I’d publish every week.
I’d talk about what I’m building.
I’d put it out there before it was ready, because I’d know it was leading somewhere.
With the right guarantee, the effort stops being the problem. The doubt disappears. What other people think of your work becomes almost irrelevant because you know you’re heading somewhere.
The problem is doing all of that without knowing if it leads anywhere.
Writing after a long day, knowing the effort might come to nothing.
Publishing consistently, knowing it might go unnoticed.
Talking about a project out loud, before there’s any result to justify it.
It’s not the work that’s hard.
It’s the exposure without guarantees, and knowing you’re still miles away from being anyone’s success story.
It’s easy to admire people who’ve already arrived.
The YouTuber with hundreds of videos.
The writer with readers.
The creator who lives off what they make.
But very few people want to be the earlier version of those people.
The one publishing videos almost no one watches.
The one writing posts that don’t get replies.
The one talking about a project that doesn’t have a shape yet.
We want the recognition that comes after.
We don’t want the public record of the road that leads there.
Because while we’re still trying, we’re not a success story.
We’re just someone who decided to try — and who might fail in front of everyone.
There’s no guarantee that any of this will work, but I keep publishing anyway.
Not because I’m certain it will, but because I’ve noticed that certainty was never really the point.
The point was always whether I’d show up without it.