Amy Swift Crosby

There’s nothing quite like a winning streak to cast doubts on one’s ability to perform the same trick again and again.

Ironic as it may seem, especially from someone with such strong opinions about being thoughtful in messaging, it’s surprising to find myself in an almost constant dialogue about the detriment of too much communication.

But over-writing, as anyone who has written and re-written an important email or text can attest, can be a self-sabotaging sinkhole. I discovered this recently when tasked with replicating memorable work.

Maybe something similar has happened to you.

After a series of successful collaborations (Blue Chip, portfolio projects) with a relatively new agency partner, I found myself in cerebral overdrive when they asked me back for another high-profile campaign. The gig was to write multiple scripts for a prominent tech company in Silicon Valley. The stakes were high, but no higher than other similarly positioned products or brands — which is to say — it wasn’t new territory. But on this day, on this job, I found myself listening to an inner whisper: “those others were so good… but can I really do it again?”

This is a particularly universal theme that many performers, athletes and creative’s have encountered — either after solid gold hits, sell-out shows, wow-factor work product or best-selling anything.

I remember the writer Elizabeth Gilbert doing an entire TedTalk about the burden of expectation following her internationally beloved Eat, Pray, Love memoir. Sports fans refer to it as Steve Blass syndrome because of the infamous all-star pitcher who, one day, couldn’t do the one thing he was famous for doing; pitching. He never got it back, and it ended his field career. His case is living proof of the ultimate fear.

Success Replication Pressure (my term) is a thing, and it was happening to me. I started the project with low-grade anxiety but looking back was in complete denial, reassuring myself how not stressed about it I was. But the work couldn’t hide behind anything, and it presented in a painful first draft over-write.

While the ideas themselves were viable, the totality was closer to something I might have submitted in my 20’s. I over-explained, over-justified and over-defended the concepts to the point of incomprehension. Remember Jon Favreau leaving 18 voicemails for his love interest in Swingers?

I wish I could have told myself to JUST STOP. But of course, it’s nearly impossible to have that perspective when you’re deep in the weeds. The clock was ticking…people were waiting… expectations remained high. I was failing – and fast.

This story has an unexpectedly happy ending because a principal partner in the agency, whose confidence I’d won (thanks to our other successful jobs together) swooped in to save me…which is to say he did what few others would do, and said what few others would say.

“Come to New York. This work is a mess — but come to New York anyway. Let’s figure it out in person.”

He could see I was anxious, and because of this, had lost the plot. But I hadn’t lost his vote — which was the booster I needed to call in my copywriting superpowers and get the job done. Together, we slashed and burned until the voice and narrative found its way out of my mental maze.

And it taught me a valuable lesson.
It’s easy to feel like we’re falling into quicksand when we think our previous successes were flukes.

The biggest hurdle in the aforementioned disaster was my ego. I wanted to prove that I could keep “being great,” that they wouldn’t regret giving this sizable project to me, a girl from Eugene, Oregon who accidentally impressed a few people and somehow found her way into the big leagues of advertising. Everyone has his or her own dumb story, that’s just mine.

In the end, I had the answer, and so do you. The fans that loved it/you/your last great work… may think they want to see it again, but they don’t really know what they want. They just want you to be the one doing it.

Replication is a fool’s errand. What you did before is over. Whether you teach an epic class, post something funny/relevant/beautiful, deliver a mic-dropping pitch or hand in bulls-eye copy…experience sets the stage, but I think we each start over every time.

One of the most powerful things one can do to sell anything, or even to persuade anyone about anything, is to demonstrate. It’s an easily overlooked attribute to marketing because it requires thought, sincerity and is (almost) always more work than slapping a logo on a promotion, or adding exclamation points for emphasis.

It can actually mean less — not more.
It could mean asking the right questions (and listening to the answers.)
Or even sharing best practices as a means of building trust.

None of us likes to be sold to.
Yet, we all enjoy buying into things that speak to us.

Rather than plaster her image on bus stops, a savvy real estate agent differentiates herself with memorable touch points… a thoughtful business card, a tasteful open house sign, and something other than stale supermarket cookies.

A facialist sells by teaching technique, recommending beautification strategies or sharing how to choose a qualified technician. We want her because she doesn’t seem to want anything from us in a business where everyone’s chasing you with a needle.

Taken further, the person who really wants everyone to meditate or take the self-help course, will get everyone interested by being different, not telling us how much we should do it.

In my world, either as a hired creative or as part of a larger agency, we ‘tell’ future clients who we are by the questions we ask and the conversations we start. It is rarely about showing them what we do or how we do it — they can see that with a quick Google search. We need to demonstrate what it might be like to work with us. And how better to do that than to get to know who they are and what they care about? And while it’s not an intentional marketing tactic, it also isn’t pitching in the traditional sense. It is sincere and the right clients remember (and subscribe to it.)

Sure, there are countless outlets for you to pontificate, elaborate, articulate and otherwise proliferate your marketing efforts (thanks for letting me do that.)

But, none will be as effective in attracting the right audience as demonstrating — embodying your message in ways that are seen and felt.

It comes down to this… no one ever wants to be convinced to enroll themselves into anything — products, people, ideas — benevolent cults included.

Be the thing you want us to know. Make choices that reflect rather than project. It’s more of a whisper than a shout.

Many years ago, early in my career, someone sent me a note that made me feel really bad about myself. I didn’t know what I had done to this person, someone who meant so much to me, but she was upset — and she felt wronged.

The note was vague and accusatory — with no specific incident cited — but it positioned me as “shameless” and “opportunistic.” I still remember how my stomach dropped, and truly, how my heart broke, mentally reviewing what I could have done to inspire these hurtful words.

I’m still thinking about it.

I don’t mean I’m actively still thinking about receiving the message itself, but the feeling it left, from a person I deeply respected and loved, still lingers in the corners of my mind, informing the decisions, feelings and interpretations going on in my life today. It’s in here …somewhere. I can feel it.

This is confounding. And, if I am honest, maybe even embarrassing, considering all the self-help experience I’ve accrued. But when I drill down to why it still feels so active in my psyche, I see that it’s because of a single feeling related to it that I can’t fully shake: I feel shame. I feel shame for being me — and in doing what was normal or natural — for committing a “crime,” in her mind.

Shame is the quietest emotion, and what it often turns into is resentment.

It’s the secret we keep about the wrongs we experience in private.
It’s the voice that says you deserved it, because whatever they said was true.
It’s the thing you might secretly think of yourself, that someone else just confirmed.

For me, it shows up as a grudge against self-promotion, success and ambition, because the contents of that note were about mine.

I don’t want to go backward, investigate, narrate or otherwise unearth the information. I don’t think that will resolve it. But I do want to stop asking for forgiveness, and permission…(from who, I don’t know).

None of us knows how we hurt people, unknowingly, over the course of a lifetime. But each of us likely does it. And it’s terrible to inflict pain, as much as it is to receive it. Ironically, shame can have a place in both roles.

What an insidious and malignant emotion.

And according to anyone who studies it — from Esther Perel to Cheryl Strayed to Eve Ensler –  it festers and grows when left in the dark.

Realizing it still existed, for me, has been healing in and of itself.
Writing this blog, and exposing it to the light of day, is a possible salve as well.

All I know is that I want to let the light in… on it…and anything like it.

Re-sent-ment (noun): Bitter indignation at having been treated unfairly.

I want to be free.