name it, shrink it, ship anyway
You've been imagining the worst case for ten months. Let's actually write it down.
Almost every catastrophic fear, once named in plain language, reveals itself as a Wednesday with extra emails. Nobody's going to lock you out of your house for writing a bad chapter. The book might flop. Your mother might have opinions. The launch could be quiet. None of those scenarios are the apocalypse. We walk through a five-question catastrophizing audit, the version of the worst case that is actually likely, and why naming the absurd one out loud removes about sixty percent of its power. Bring a pen. The audit takes nine minutes. The relief lasts much longer.
Imagined worst case vs. actual worst case
| Your imagined worst case | The actual likely worst case |
|---|---|
| Total public humiliation | A few bad reviews you'll skim once |
| Family disowns you | One uncle has Opinions at Thanksgiving |
| Career ends | You write a better book next year |
| You're exposed as a fraud | You're identified as a writer |
| You can never write again | You take a week off, then write again |
The nine-minute catastrophizing audit
- Write the imagined worst case in one sentence. Be dramatic.
- Now write what's actually likely.
- Now write what you'd do in the actually-likely scenario.
- Notice you'd survive it. Probably with a snack.
- Notice the dramatic version was a costume your fear wore to get attention.
Most worst cases, named in plain language, turn out to be a Wednesday with extra emails. The trick is naming them on a Monday.
— L.A. Walton, The Book Maven
From the Maven Catalog
- Free eCourse — Worst Case Audit
- Master Course — Fear-Proof Your Launch
- eBook — On Paper, It's Smaller
- Planner — The Quiet Launch Planner
Take nine minutes. Run the audit. Notice the relief. Then ship the thing you were avoiding. Wednesday is coming whether you ship or not.