Why do we bother doing what we do? What tone do you hear in that question? To bother: taking the trouble or effort to do something. To be bothered: to be affected by something and/or to care about it. I hadn’t really thought much about this phrase until it came up in a conversation related to stuckness a few days ago. And now I can’t stop thinking about it. https://youtu.be/SSCHoKd3tCc Someone shared that, despite having written a huge number of words, they felt self-doubt, uncertainty, and boredom were why they hadn’t yet managed to complete a draft of the novel they’d been working on for the past couple of years. Exploring the map, watching the videos, and using the reflection guide helped them realise there might be more to it than an internal issue. In reality, the publishing industry is going through a period of deep uncertainty, and it’s harder than ever to get into. That adds a very real obstacle to the stuckness. Stuckness Doesn’t Occur in a Vacuum Feeling stuck is often a dance between internal and external factors. And it always happens within a broader context. Unstable material conditions, unhelpful environments, and systemic inequalities make stuckness more than a mindset or attitude issue. I’ve known people struggling to stay afloat amid overwhelming busyness, grief, and health challenges, who believe they have the wrong attitude because they wish they could feel better and move forward. As if you haven’t got enough to deal with, there’s the added pressure of personal responsibility to respond positively to things beyond your control. A Mindset Fallacy The focus on mindset and positive thinking as a solution to stuckness can implicitly misdiagnose its source as lying squarely within the individual. It places us in charge of our own reality, a common position we’ve noticed throughout the history of the self-help movement. At its most extreme, this becomes the belief that we can literally manifest material wealth, health, and prosperity through the power of positive thinking. At one level, this way of thinking seems harmless enough. But when we peel back the layers, it reveals some more insidious assumptions. Not least, it assumes that if everything boils down to individual responsibility for the quality of our own life through positive thinking, then we are personally to blame for our suffering. This can be a really lonely place to be. We feel stuck because of the projected images we see from others who tell stories of self-made success. These tell us what we SHOULD want and aspire to. Then, when we struggle to get there, we beat ourselves up for not having what those successful people seem to have. A lot of smoke and mirrors surround those stories. When you believe that you’re the only one finding it hard, but that the result is necessary for your value as a human, you are more likely to act from desperation rather than curiosity. And the cycle continues. Why Bother? Good question. Glad you asked. These pressures subtly influence our response to the question. So do the ways we’re encouraged to measure value. I remember reading a blog post many years ago about the difference in quality between the amateur and the professional. It referenced Steven Pressfield’s archetypes of The Professional and The Amateur in The War of Art, his book about what he coined as The Resistance, the enemy force that derails a creative pursuit. I haven’t read it for about 15 years, but I remember it containing some helpful ideas and some that made less sense to me. In it he writes: “The word amateur comes from the Latin root meaning “to love.” The conventional interpretation is that the amateur pursues his calling out of love, while the pro does it for money. Not the way I see it. In my view, the amateur does not love the game enough. If he did, he would not pursue it as a sideline, distinct from his “real” vocation. The professional loves it so much he dedicates his life to it. He commits full-time.” I’ll save my greater exceptions for another day, perhaps. But at a basic level, and in response to “why bother?”, we can see the pressure potentially undermining Pressfield’s message. Although he presents the distinction as archetypes of attitude, it’s hard to escape the implication that the creative pursuit must provide a person’s main income (or full-time occupation) if the person truly loves it. Why DO I bother? When the thing becomes a means to an end, the end can begin to determine whether the thing itself feels worth doing. This can leave us feeling stuck. Confused about why we bother. I know people who have become derailed after being encouraged to take something they had great passion, love, and drive for and turn it into a source of income. They used to bother because they cared. It was a catalyst for creativity and imagination, providing a way to express themselves freely. They were curious, explored, and grew, pouring resources into their passion regardless of profitability. And they gave their time to it without a second thought. But when they went professional, things changed. Concerns about marketing, efficiency, avoiding waste, and so on meant their relationship with what they used to do out of habit and ease became something only worth doing if it yielded a profitable outcome. This isn’t to say it’s a bad idea to make something your profession. Rather, I think it’s a bad idea to assume that a professional is simply a more serious amateur. It’s a radically different position. In many cases, the amateur can maintain their connection, love, and raw, organic passion for what they do because professionalism brings separate pressures, not necessarily linked to quality and care for the work. The Overjustification Effect I know amateurs who love their work so much that they free it from market pressure and find other ways to fund a life they can dedicate what they love doing around the edges. And some are more skilled, passionate, and dedicated than their professional counterparts in the same field. It’s ironic that for all his talk of Resistance, Pressfield may have inadvertently introduced and exacerbated a source of it by drawing this distinction. This may also be linked to something psychologists call the overjustification effect. An external incentive, like money, praise, or professional status, can change our relationship with an activity we already do for love. External rewards can make us less interested in doing something for its own sake. Why bother? It’s only worth it if I see results. And when it feels like the odds are stacked against you, why bother? It would be easier to find another way to make a living. Bothering can become futile when the outcome we’ve attached to the endeavour becomes harder to achieve. And this can happen when we become less intrinsically connected to it. The Pressure To Stay Positive If things feel like a struggle, maybe business is slow, and external events are making it worse, we might hear someone say, “Why bother?” and try to help them stay positive. “Come on, you’ve got to have a positive mental attitude. You’ve got this. Don’t give up. Believe in yourself. You’ll get through it.” Maybe there’s a time and place for that. But sometimes there are immovable objects in the way, and the question “why bother?” asks something else of us. It’s also apparent that when we’re already struggling, another person’s extraordinary success story can leave us feeling more alone. We Need More Failure Stories While inspiring or motivational stories are meant to give us hope, hearing from people who tried just as hard and didn’t get the same result can be more grounding and encouraging. I love a good failure story. Yeah, I know I’m a bit odd. But survivorship bias gives us a rather skewed impression of the link between working hard and succeeding. But when we come together around these shared struggles, we can find a motivating energy far more powerful than hearing that it IS possible to win the lottery because, look, someone won it. They won millions of pounds. Why? Because millions of people didn’t win. The story of the collective experience is less romantic, but it’s much warmer. It’s the reminder that we’re not alone. This is just hard. Success isn’t guaranteed by hard work alone. No matter what we do, factors beyond our control limit our chances of succeeding. Well, that’s depressing…why bother then? I’m glad you asked… We can dig back into that question with a fresh perspective and a personal connection. We can rediscover why we want to do what I want to do. What sparks our care, passion, and creative drive. Knowing and accepting that sometimes things don’t work out. The book doesn’t get finished, let alone published. But it is worth it anyway. Why? Because there is something about the endeavour that brings you to life. That’s the bit that matters. And everything else is gravy. And there is something beautifully rebellious and defiant about being alongside others in this spirit. Rejecting the assumption that we are in it alone. And finding solace in our shared experiences of things not necessarily going to plan, yet being bothered enough to continue anyway. Growing In Circles That’s really what I’m hoping we get to experience in Pick The Lock: Growing In Circles. If you’d like to explore your own relationship with something you’re currently feeling frustrated or stuck around, you can find out more about the group and join us here.
