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This is for anyone who gets stuck in a mind spiral.
A week ago, I submitted a new book proposal (!) and while I'm both proud and excited, I'm also DYING. Yes, because Iβm impatient, but mostly because an old insecurity is playing on repeat in my mind.
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It starts with a memory: the moment I received my advance for the Ladies Get Paid book. It was the most money I had ever been offered - or honestly, ever seen - in my entire life. One part of me felt profoundly validated. All those years of work, all the late nights, the free events, the content I made because I believed in the mission before anyone was paying me to...it felt like the world finally handing me a receipt that said: yes, this was worth it.
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But the other part of me? Terrified.β
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Because that number wasn't just money. It was expectation. It was a bet - their bet - that I could perform at a certain level, reach a certain number of readers, earn back every dollar and then some. And as I sit here pitching again, my nervous system has apparently decided to replay all of that. The fear. The pressure. The creeping shame.
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Here's the truth: I have not yet earned back that advance. I've sold more books than the average author (meaningfully more!) but no, I haven't crossed that threshold. And for a long time, I let that mean something about me.
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The lens we forget we're wearing
One of the core things I work on with clients is this: we almost never question the lens through which we're seeing a situation. We assume our interpretation is just reality. We forget that it's a perspective, and that perspectives can shift.
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So I asked myself, the way I'd ask a client: Whose eyes am I seeing this through?
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The answer was obvious: my own. Specifically, the part of me that had decided the advance was a personal debt I hadn't yet repaid. A measurement of my worth that I was still failing. I had turned a business transaction into a referendum on my value.
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That's not fact. That's a story. And once I saw it as a story, not as truth, I could ask: what does this look like from a different angle?
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Stepping into their perspective
I did something I often guide clients through: I actually visualized the publisher's experience. Not in a vague, airy way. I tried to concretely imagine their process: a team of people reading my proposal, running projections, looking at my newsletter numbers, my Instagram, the scope of Ladies Get Paid as a community. They did their research. They built a model. They made a calculated bet.
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And then I asked: what is it like to be them right now? Here's what landed for me: they might be feeling like they failed, too.β
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Not because I did anything wrong, but because publishing is an industry built on hypotheses that don't always pan out. The market is unpredictable. Algorithms change. Cultural moments shift. A book that checks every box can still underperform, and that is not a character indictment. It's a business reality they know far better than I do.
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When I really stepped into their shoes, I stopped seeing an investor who was disappointed in me and started seeing colleagues who took a risk together with me. A risk that hasn't (yet!) paid off in the way we hoped. That's different. And that difference? It relieved a burden my mind - and my body - were carrying. I felt lighter.
What's actually in my control
Here's what I know, with real certainty:
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Did I show up exactly as I am in my proposal? Yes. Did I deliver a book I'm proud of? Yes. Did we help people? Yes. I hear it constantly, from readers and in reviews and in the DMs that still arrive years later. Did we get good reviews? Yes. Did we sell out at Target? Yes. Did we sell a non-humiliating number of copies? Genuinely yes.
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Everything else: the algorithm, the timing, the market saturation, the pandemic that reshaped every industry including publishing, was largely outside anyone's control. Mine or theirs.
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They had all the data about me when they made their decision. I showed up exactly as advertised and delivered the best product I could make. The outcome wasn't a reflection of hidden inadequacy. It was a reflection of factors neither of us could predict.
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That realization didn't just make me feel better. It freed me from carrying a weight that was never mine to carry alone.
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The self-trust gap, in real time
What I'm describing here is exactly what I've been writing about in this new book I hope to publish: the difference between confidence and self-trust. Confidence is what we perform. Self-trust is what happens in the body when the results aren't what we hoped; do we collapse, or do we stay connected to what we actually know to be true? Do we still believe in ourselves?
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The old version of me would have stayed in the shame spiral. She would have concluded: I failed, therefore I am a failure, therefore why would anyone bet on me again?
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The version of me I've worked hard to become could pause, notice the lens, rotate it, and find a different: more accurate, more generous, more grounded, interpretation. Not toxic positivity. Not bypassing the disappointment. Just: this is more complex than my nervous system's first read.
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That's the work. And some days, like the day I wrote this, it takes about ten minutes and leaves you feeling genuinely lighter.
Key takeaways:
- We interpret situations through our own lens by default. Recognizing this is the first step to changing it.
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- Perspective-taking isn't just an empathy exercise, it's a tool for releasing shame. When you genuinely imagine another person's experience, you often discover they're not thinking about you the way you assumed.
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- Business outcomes and personal worth are not the same category of thing. A bet that didn't pay off is still just a bet. It doesn't tell the whole story of your value.
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- Self-trust means staying connected to what you know is true - about your effort, your integrity, your delivery - even when the results might be disappointing.
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- Most things that feel like failures are actually collaborations with forces outside your control. Assign responsibility accordingly.
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Your turn:
Before you read these prompts, find a moment of stillness. Take a breath. These questions are meant to be sat with, not answered quickly.
- Where in your life are you carrying a "debt" you decided you owe: to a person, an institution, or an expectation? What would it mean to look at that situation as a shared risk rather than a personal failing?
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- What is actually in your control, in the situation that's weighing on you most right now? Make a real list. Then make a list of what isn't. How does your body feel as you look at that second list?
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- When results disappoint you, what story do you automatically tell about yourself? Is that story fact β or is it interpretation? What's the most accurate, generous story you could tell instead?
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- Where in your life are you letting an outcome define your worth, when really the outcome was always going to be a collaboration between your effort and a hundred things outside your hands?
Reply and tell me: where are you carrying a debt that might not actually be yours? I love hearing from you.
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Now go get paid.
x Claire
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P.S. Check out The Practice, my deck of cards that transforms negative self-talk into ultimate self-trust...in 30 days π€
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