I got a call a few months ago from my youngest son, Micah.

“I blew it, Dad.”

“When? How?”

“It happened an hour ago. I gave a presentation to the entire marketing team and I just wasn’t on. I stumbled over my words, didn’t present with as much passion as I felt, and came away feeling like, no, not feeling, knowing I screwed it up.”

I laughed because I knew EXACTLY how he felt.

In July of 2020 I shot a video for a virtual conference I was part of later that month. When I finished the teaching I went back and looked at a few parts of it. That’s all I could take. Just a few minutes worth.

It was that bad.

I seriously contemplated asking the conference coordinator if she could give me time to recut my entire session. But even if she could have, my schedule was too packed to re-record.

So I went through the next two weeks cringing inwardly every time I thought of the upcoming conference and my dismal video.

Then the conference happened.

Soon emails started coming in about how much people loved my presentation. And the conference director told me it was one of the most talked about videos. I was dumbfounded. Did I miss something?

Yes, I did.

We’re often so close to the trees on most of our personal and artistic endeavors we only see bark, let alone the saplings or the forest.

It’s simply tough to see our work clearly.

Like me. Like Micah.

“Guess who I got a call from, Dad,” Micah said two days after he “blew it”.

“Who?” I asked.

“The Senior VP of marketing. She said she was seriously impressed with my presentation. That I brought up excellent points, the right action plan to go forward with, and that she appreciated my passion.”

So it’s not just Micah and I that don’t see themselves clearly. I’m guessing it’s you too.

Two Takeaways

1. Stop beating up on yourself when you think you’ve blown it with your video, social media post, writing submission, speech, etc. At least until you get a clearer perspective on how you did. Often what you think is your worst is far better than you think. Which leads to the second takeaway:
2. Cultivate relationships with others who will tell you the truth about your output. Ask the hard question, “How was it?” If it’s good, you’ll gain confidence. If it needs work, you’ll know areas where you can grow.

Your Turn

Have you ever been in a situation where you thought you’d blown it, and it turned out not to be true? Or have you “blown it” lately and realize you need to ask someone more objective about it?

How Do You Stand Up for Yourself When It Means Losing Everything?

Allison Moore is making it. Barely. The Seattle architecture firm she started with her best friend is struggling, but at least they’re free from the games played by the corporate world. She’s gotten over her divorce. And while her dad’s recent passing is tough, their relationship had never been easy.

Then the bomb drops. Her dad was living a secret life and left her mom in massive debt.

As Allison scrambles to help her mom find a way out, she’s given a journal, anonymously, during a visit to her favorite coffee shop. The pressure to rescue her mom mounts, and Allison pours her fears and heartache into the journal.

But then the unexplainable happens. The words in the journal, her words, begin to disappear. And new ones fill the empty spaces—words that force her to look at everything she knows about herself in a new light.

Ignoring those words could cost her everything . . . but so could embracing them.

James L. Rubart is 28 years old, but lives trapped inside an older man’s body. He thinks he’s still young enough to water ski like a madman and dirt bike with his two grown sons. He’s the best-selling, Christy BOOK of the YEAR, CAROL, INSPY, and RT Book Reviews award winning author of ten novels and loves to send readers on journeys they’ll remember months after they finish one of his stories. He’s also a branding expert, audiobook narrator, co-host of the Novel Marketing podcast, and co-founder with his son, Taylor, of the Rubart Writing Academy. He lives with his amazing wife on a small lake in Washington state.