STOP

You’re putting too much pressure on yourself. You’re worrying about how far you have left to go without actually going anywhere.

You were making a path. You’ve been laying the groundwork, piece by piece, but now you want to jump 50 ft and you’re stuck staring at a ravine. It’s too far. Why did you come this way? Why did you ever think you could do this?

Stop.

You were making progress.

You were walking. You were moving forward. Now you’re just standing there looking at the mountain and worrying that it’s too high to climb.

Stop looking at the summit. The peak is far away, you know that, you’re not going to get there by standing and wishing it was closer. Look at the people beside you. Look at the scenery around. Feel the breeze on your skin and the warm sun at your back. And if you need to, look at the distance behind you. See how far you’ve come. Pick out the tiny shapes of houses where you started, and the dot of color in the distance that may or may not be your car. Focus on that. Take a minute to catch your breath. But stop looking up.

Take steps. Take small steps if you must. But keep moving.

Others have climbed this hill before. That’s a good thing. You can follow their paths, learn from their mistakes, take the high ground, avoid the marshes. Others have done this, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t bother. A mountain already climbed is no less an achievement. If anything, take it as proof that it can be done.

Watch the tiny frames of people already at the top, looking like ants atop an anthill from your vantage point below. Sure, you could turn around, have a look at their pictures later and ask them how it was, but don’t you want to see it for yourself? See what all the fuss is about. There was a reason you wanted to do this. Don’t forget that now. The climb is going to be hard, it’s going to take effort and work, but standing here worrying isn’t going to make it any easier.

Keep to the path, keep in mind your direction, but stop thinking about the end goal for the moment. Stop calculating the distance left to the top. Mountains are big. But you’ve got a sturdy pair of boots, a water bottle, and a jacket in case it rains. You were prepared when you started this adventure. You are still prepared now. Nothing’s changed.

You can ask others for help, but remember that their path might differ from yours. They might have climbing equipment or an outdated map, or be aiming for a different peak altogether. Knowing where that path was 10 years ago, or that it’s easier if you start from the other side, is not going to help you now. Be polite, thank them for their input, but understand that not all advice will be relevant to you.

Stop thinking about where every step is leading. Stop trying to make every movement perfect.

Forget your timeline. There is no timeline. There is just today, and getting things done TODAY. The only way to make progress is to continue moving forward. No matter how small that progress. Even the tiniest step will get you closer.

Stop trying to plan a straight line from here to the summit. That’s never going to work. Look down at your feet, find the path in front of you, the one you were following up to this point. It might meander, it might go back on itself, and you know there will be switchbacks and dead ends, but if you keep following it, keep laying one foot in front of the other, in a few hours the mountain will be closer than it was before.

And eventually, the grass will turn to rocks under your boots, the air will feel colder, the breeze stronger, and you’ll look up and notice that you’ve made it. That you’re standing on the summit.

You’ll survey the countryside, stretching out in a panoramic view around you, and wonder why you were so certain that you couldn’t do this.

You’ll still be able to make out the tiny shapes of the town where you started and the flash of red that might be your car, waiting patiently where you left it what seems like a lifetime ago. And dotted across the landscape you’ll see the shapes of other climbers, making their own way up the mountain, struggling to follow the path you laid for them.

You’ll know what they’re thinking. It wasn’t long ago that you were in their shoes. And as you pass them on your way back down, stiff muscles enjoying the ease of descent, you’ll offer them notes of encouragement, and remind them to stop looking at the summit and just keep moving forward.

---

Earlier this year, whilst visiting friends in Scotland, I had the opportunity to climb a Munro- a Scottish mountain defined by being over 3000ft high. It was an impromptu decision for an unseasonably beautiful autumn day. For the first ten minutes of the hike, I felt proud to be out experiencing nature and exploring the highlands of such a beautiful country.

Then, I remembered that climbing mountains is hard.

I was out of shape, out of practice, and in a borrowed pair of winter boots that my brain insisted were slowing me down. My internal monologue quickly went from “Look at us being healthy and active, how awesome are we”, to “I can’t do this. It’s too hard. That mountain is so far away. I’m never going to make it”. The me that knew I had climbed mountains before, bigger ones, harder ones, and that I was more than capable of walking slightly uphill, was silenced by the voice shouting that it was too much work. The summit was too far away, why was I kidding myself? I wasn’t the kind of person who climbed mountains.

Luckily, my friends were having none of it, and lovingly told me to “shut the F up and keep walking”. A few hours later we were enjoying the view from the top of the world.

Throughout the climb, every time I looked at the summit, I thought “there is no way I’m making it up there. I’ll just climb this next section and that will be it for me”. But with a little outside motivation, forcibly putting one foot in front of the other, and stopping a few times for my heroic friend to breastfeed the 8-month-old strapped to her chest, the summit that originally seemed so far away was finally under our feet. The challenge that my brain insisted was unclimbable, insurmountable, surely to lead to failure, was complete.

I haven’t climbed any mountains recently, at least not without the help of a chair lift and a snowboard, but the internal struggle of keeping my eyes off the summit and silencing that voice of doubt has become as true in my creative endeavors as it is for my physical ones.

Recently, I’ve hit a wall with my writing. No, that’s a lie. My writing hasn’t been the problem, but rather the momentum in turning my writing into a career. I’ve hit an impasse, a roadblock, and these last few weeks I’ve felt stuck, spinning my wheels in the mud, going in circles, feeling like I’m getting nowhere.

The issue is not one of motivation but of self-imposed pressure. Of looking at the peak and worrying it’s too far away. That I’m never going to make it, that I don’t have the skills to make it. Of losing sight of the path by focusing too long on the end goal. An end goal that looks unattainable from this far away.

This summer I plan to move house and thought this would be a great time to quit the day job and focus on writing full-time. This idea is not a problem in itself, but it’s had a significant, unwanted effect on my mindset and productivity that I’m only just starting to unravel. Since I came to this decision, I’ve found myself overthinking my next moves and putting undue pressure on myself to make productive headway toward this end goal. The next project I take needs to help me make a living from writing. I need to be moving quicker toward my goals. My writing needs to be better, needs to be different, should be more journalistic, timely, relevant… Do I even know what I’m doing?

You can hear the negative spiral of this thought process at work, insisting that I need to be making faster progress and becoming disillusioned when I don’t. Heaping on the pressure that I need to be aiming higher, working harder, working smarter. This has left me stuck in the mud, afraid to make the next steps, as I’ve told myself that the next steps need to be great. They need to be perfect. They need to be game-changing. If I can’t land a big client or a full-time gig, should I even really be doing this?

Clearly, this mindset is not helpful. Direction is good, motivation is good, purpose is good, but continually looking at how far away the end goal is, and how hard it’s going to be to get there, is not. This negativity and pressure to be perfect had me questioning my ability to write, and if I can even do this for a living. I found myself thinking: “Do I even have what it takes to be a writer?” “Maybe I should give up and go back to the day job”

That moment of utter self-doubt and pessimism was the wake-up call I needed to kick me out of the spiral. It was my long-suffering best friend telling me to “Shut the F up and keep walking”.

I know I’m a writer. I know I can write. I have already made progress that proves those two facts. The end goal might still be far away, but I’m closer than I was even a few months ago. Worrying about how far you have left to go is as unproductive as asking a passerby how much further to the summit. It doesn’t matter what they say, you’re going to find out yourself anyway, and knowing you’re not even halfway will only prove to lessen your motivation to keep going. Knowing where you’re going is vital, but staring at the summit doesn’t get you anywhere.

---

Turning your passion into your work will always be challenging. There will always be moments of self-doubt, when you look at where you want to be and can’t possibly see how you’re going to get there. There is no quick fix, no cheat code, no back door to the life you’re aiming for. There will be roadblocks thrown in your way, external influences that make the process harder, and times when you’ll question your commitment to the cause. But sometimes, the struggle can come from us.

We all have periods of doubt. Days when we question our skills, our strengths, our ability to follow through on our dreams. We put too much pressure on ourselves to be perfect. To be productive, to be lucrative. We compare ourselves to others and sap our own strength by worrying about the journey ahead. Yes, the mountain is high, but that’s why you wanted to climb it in the first place.

Don’t let a daunting task stop you from starting. Frodo would never have made it to Mordor if he never left the shire. You’ll never run a marathon if you don’t first learn to run a mile.

Too many metaphors? You’re probably right, but it turns out there are a lot of ways to say “stop worrying about the end and just focus on taking a step”

This means focusing on what you’ve been doing up to this point and keep doing just that. Keep learning the ropes and working through the steps, one at a time. Keep making small progress, instead of trying to force the big jump. Just because the next step seems bigger, more daunting, harder to achieve, doesn’t mean this is where it stops.

Keep writing. Keep writing the only way you know how, telling stories that only you can tell. Keep writing for yourself, and stop worrying about the marketing potential of your ideas or their appeal to a wider audience. You’ve written good pieces before. You can do it again. Your last great idea will not be your last great idea. There are thousands of people that write for a living. It’s doable. It can be done. And the only difference between them and us, is that they’ve already climbed this hill, and are on to the next one.

Small steps, one at a time, are how you climb mountains. Not by looking at the summit and wishing it was closer.

So stop worrying about the money. Stop focusing on the word count. Stop worrying that your ideas aren’t good enough, or that you don’t know what you’re doing. You were doing so well up to this point. You’ve just got hit by a wave of vertigo from looking up too long. The mountain is in front of you. You know where you’re headed. It’s time to forget about the summit for now, and focus on the path under your feet.

Small steps are how you climb mountains.

Small steps are how you achieve your goals.

We all just need a little reminder now and then.