Do you ever stop yourself before you press the first key? Write the first letter? Does your ego quiver at the mere thought of your words out in the ether, only having the squiggly of an errant ‘Q’ for warmth? Same. So why are we drawn to this trade, where so many of us become marketers and forget to nourish the philosopher within, the inquisitor, the shot-counter?

I’m starting over, embarking on a cross-country move from Boston to Salt Lake City, Utah. It’s the furthest I’ve ever gone, and it’s all based on a hunch.

Success isn’t all it’s cracked up to be if you forget to nurture the ‘in between’ times. My lack of daily maintenance led to the ultimate downer—I got boring.