​In the last days of my father’s life, I was tasked with writing a few words to be read by my sister at his funeral. This meant sitting down in front of my computer and staring at a blank screen for a few hours. Because what is there to say, so much and not enough, all at once.

My father was best known as the New York Times bestselling author of dozens of books, translated into dozens of languages. Some of his work made it to the screen, like Not Without My Daughter, Midnight Express, and Freefall. He was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize.

Anyone at his funeral would know this about him. And I was sure that others would mention these accomplishments, because they certainly merit it.

I wanted to focus on what came before all of that.

I stepped away from the blank screen that faced me and walked by the spines of hardbacks with the name William Hoffer on them. Instead of looking for inspiration in the work he was best known for, I went to the downstairs closet.

I retrieved an old cardboard box that my sister sent me two decades prior. It contains faded newspapers and magazine clippings, a vast body of work of which any writer could be rightfully proud.

Articles for Popular Mechanics and Ladies Home Journal and everything in between. Stories on crime and tech and economics and science. He researched and wrote about New Age religions. There’s even a piece from the 1970s on the wage gap (yes, still timely).

This box of old articles means a lot. It’s a demonstration of that fact that yes, my father was a gifted writer, but he was also extremely dedicated. He worked hard and over a long period of time.

Like any worthwhile endeavor, writing requires practice and dedication. There are no overnight successes. You don’t sign up for your first marathon and expect to win, or decide to take up French and think you’ll be fluent tomorrow.

Of course, I wrote about other things as well, but this is one lesson from him that I prize – the importance of dedication and determination. When I see the “successes” of others, I remind myself of this: while an accomplishment might appear straightforward or the result of luck, I might not be seeing the extent of the work that came before.

I think having a gift or talent is a wonderful thing, but it will never be fully developed unless you’re willing to pair it with dedication and determination.

My friend Ryan Fletcher recently wrote something that spoke to me (I’ve paired this down from the original).

“At first, I hated the pressure and burden of feeling called to become something great. It’s a torture chamber. You know your potential. Yet, you have no idea how to get there. This leads to despair and misery, and always feeling like you’re letting yourself down. 

It’s not always fun to be the 5% that feels called to become great. But if I accept it, I will build a life of vast meaning. Quitting isn’t an option. I am a slave to my purpose. My job to achieve that purpose is mission-critical. If I quit, my Lesser Self wins. And millions of the brightest lights may never get lit.”

Many of us are driven. But few are driven to be great. 

I don’t know why I feel driven to be great. But I do. 

It drives me to wake up early to stare at a blank page, and then write letters like this one.

I could be doing a million other things that could result in making more money today, but here I am reading, writing, and trying to learn ways to improve myself and help others do the same.

Sometimes I think, “Why Me?” 

Why can’t I just be satisfied with sleeping in today? 

Ryan described it well when he said, it’s a torture chamber when you know your potential but have no idea how to get there and feeling like you’re letting yourself down.

Sleeping-in feels like I’m letting myself down, it feels like torture. 

In contrast, writing letters like this gives me a warm feeling inside like I’m on the right path. 

I’m not a religious person, yet I know my moral compass always points north. 

I’m not a spiritual person, but I do feel like I’m being guided.

I don’t know why I’m driven the way I am. But it’s there, speaking to me every day. 

It’s clear to me that finding a way to answer that nagging inner drive is how we find our true potential. It’s also clear to me that this isn’t a temporary mission, but rather a lifelong mission that takes daily endurance. 

I don’t know why I’m driven the way I am, but I know I’m not the only one.

#TheBusinessofUs #Driven
#TheSweetLife