A year to surrender

Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.- Walt Whitman, O Me! O Life!

What a beautiful and romantic poem.

What Whitman doesn't tell you, though, is that this "powerful play" is actually an amateur improv class. And this year, it felt to me like we're all up on stage looking confused, waiting for the director to yell, "Stop! Reset!"—because Michael Scott just keeps joining the scene and shooting everyone.

(For reference: The Office improv clip)

Unfortunately, our director is either cruel or believes in our abilities enough to let the scene play out. Either way, it's up to us to "contribute a verse" again this year and attempt to propel this story forward.

To prepare for that responsibility, each year, I set a "theme" for my "character" to explore. The theme grounds the year's storyline and provides a lens to view everything—good or bad—as a contribution to the year's focus.

Like any good storyteller, I craft the theme to set up conflict—hoping it causes the character, myself, to grow.

I love being in control. I thrive on independence and freedom. I love having a plan. I love experiencing success or failure knowing I'm the only one to blame. But this obsession with control often clashes with life's inherent chaos. Most things that happen are not from us—they happen to us.

In 2023, a series of events quickly sobered me to that truth. And I realized I needed to get comfortable relinquishing control, seeking help, and surrendering to faith in processes over plans and people over personal prowess.

So, my theme for the year was "surrender." Here are a few parts of my 2024 story that helped me embrace it:

🏋️‍♂️ Getting a personal trainer

I enjoy working out. I've always been physically active. I like learning about how our bodies change through movement.

But over the past few years, it's become harder to research, plan, and stick to a consistent exercise routine. I’d work out in bursts but struggle to maintain momentum.

So, this year, I gave up total control over my fitness journey and signed up for an online personal training service.

Now, my trainer, Dylan, designs my workouts based on my preferences and goals, adjusting them with feedback after each session. And it's completely changed my life.

With Dylan at the helm, I’ve been consistently working out all year, with only a few breaks for vacations. I’ve lost 15 pounds, gained visible muscle, and feel stronger, more mobile, and resilient.

I have scoliosis and used to throw out my back at least twice a year. In 2024, I didn’t throw out my back once.

Had I tried to plan for these results—researching exercises, creating my own workouts, and finding consistency without camaraderie—I surely would have failed. But by surrendering to the process, simply opening the app at lunch and doing whatever Dylan said to do, I got results.

No plan. No goal. No deadline. Just consistency. Time took care of the rest.

🎤 Starting a podcast

Until this year, “starting a podcast” was all talk. I’d been “starting a podcast” since 2021. My vision was a highly produced, Freakonomics-style show with deep dives into the ethical and social dilemmas entrepreneurs face.

I wrote scripts, emailed guests, bought equipment, and even did a few test recordings. But I was always “getting ready to start.”

Ira Glass – the famous radio producer and creator of This American Life – describes what he calls "The Gap" in creative work. All artists have taste. They are inspired and informed by great works of the past and have a vision of what they want to make that is as good or better. But not all artists – and especially not beginners – have the skill necessary to create that vision.

This is "The Gap" – the canyon between skill and taste. "Many people give up and quit inside the gap," Glass says, "but most people look down into the gap and give up before even trying to cross it".

Before this year, I was most people – staring across a wide abyss of my own expectations, twiddling my thumbs hoping that some tool or technique or act of God would leap-frog me to the other side.

But the unfortunate truth is that, "the only way through the gap, is to produce a ton of work". So, I surrendered my expectations of what this podcast needed to be and dove into "The Gap".

Season one of Just Business wrapped at the end of last year and I'm gearing up for season two as I write this. And although I still think I'm deep in "The Gap", I'm keeping my eyes locked on progress and not perfection.

I would not have done this without the encouragement and support of my friend and co-host, Henry. "The Gap" is hard to enter, hard to navigate, and nearly impossible to cross by yourself.

So thanks, Henry.

✍️ Writing a book

I’ve been working on my first book, The Five Vices of Founders, for over a year, and it’s been kicking my ass.

Writing a book is hard. Kurt Vonnegut described it as "feeling like an armless, legless man with a crayon in his mouth."

Yeah, that feels right.

Vonnegut said there are two types of writers: swoopers and bashers. Swoopers spill ideas onto the page and refine them later. Bashers craft each sentence meticulously, unable to move forward until it’s perfect.

Vonnegut was a basher who envied swoopers. I am a swooper who envies bashers. Because at least if I was only three sentences into my manuscript, I'd know where I was in the process.

Right now, if you asked me, "How long until the book is done?", my answer would truthfully be, "I have no idea."

For a project like this, there is no plan, there is no map, there are no real checkpoints. Every time I try to create some semblance of order, it ends up just getting thrown out the window as I continue getting up each day to write.

And I just have to trust that this compounding cascade of characters is contributing to a continued sense of clarity in my own thinking that will become...one day...a book.

It took Kurt Vonnegut twenty-two years and 49 manuscripts to finish Slaughterhouse Five.

I'm praying to the Gods it doesn't take me that long. But if it does, I know me of this year is better prepared to surrender to the process and just keep writing.

"Talent is extremely common. What is rare is the willingness to endure the life of the writer."- Kurt Vonnegut

🌄 Moving forward

My "year to surrender" was a year to remember. And I want to just take a moment to thank you for supporting me, encouraging me, challenging me, and being here with me this year.

I hope 2024 was kind to you and would love to hear about what you learned or accomplished this year in the comments down below.

👋 Until next time,
Drew