Moving Papers

What Are You Actually Doing?

Someone I know spent almost two years going to every event in town. They were well-liked. People recognized them. They had a broad network and could get a coffee or lunch meeting with almost anyone. By most visible measures, they were doing it right. Then they pulled back. They became more selective. They got specific about the kind of work they actually wanted, and they stopped going to rooms that had nothing to do with it.

Within a year, things had shifted. The work they were doing started to connect. The relationships were reinforcing instead of just accumulating. From the outside, it looked like they were winning and barely trying. From the inside, I suspect it felt like things were finally making sense.

Around the same time, I watched someone else move through the same spaces. Also well-liked. Also recognized. We had lunch once, and they were sharp, thoughtful, clearly capable, but confused. They could not understand why they were not making deals or being invited into the inner circles. By every visible measure, they were doing it right, too.

The difference is that they never pulled back to access and align. They are still in every room. And when I hear people mention their name now, the conversation has a particular quality. People know them. But they have become someone you expect to see, not someone you think to call.

Most people who are serious about building something go through a phase where they say yes to almost everything. Every panel, every networking event, every introduction, every coffee. There is logic to it. You do not know yet which door will open, so you knock on them all.

The pattern that tends to emerge, though, if not careful, is not momentum. It is a kind of low-grade exhaustion that is hard to name.

Before long, you're sitting in your car in the driveway after a long day, exhausted. The day was full, but somehow you still feel like you are in the same place. Giving yourself twenty minutes to scroll or play Candy Crush before you go inside.

The distinction between being in the mix and being in motion is not always obvious in the moment. Being in the mix has its own rewards. Rooms have a pull to them. Certain circles, certain spaces, certain gatherings carry an energy. We see the circles and want to be among them. There is a feeling of relevance. And sometimes, it leads somewhere.

But proximity doesn't create connection. Most times, it just turns you into a spectator.

You stay busy, but the work does not accumulate into anything. My friend Michelle calls it moving papers: Like when you say you need to clean your desk to start working, but all you do is reorganize the piles and shift them from one side to another.

When things are aligned, compounding happens. One thing reinforces the next. You show up to fewer things, but you are more present when you do. Before long, the phone starts ringing for you.

At some point, you have to get honest about what all of this is actually leading toward.

Before you walk into a room, you should know three things:

What are you building?

What do you need?

What do you bring?

If you do not have an answer to all three, it becomes easy to confuse proximity with progress.

When those answers are clear, your decisions start to change. You show up differently. You recognize more quickly what is worth continuing and what is not.

And just as importantly, other people can recognize it too.

See you next week. 🥂