I spent ten years writing about self-improvement. I wrote more than a thousand essays and a dozen books. And as I wrote, I tried to walk my talk.
What I discovered is this: It is very difficult to change one’s behavior.
Most people don’t admit (even to themselves) that they need to change. These people are usually very good at pointing out why other people should.
Some people know they should change but never even try. The best of them have a sense of humor about it.
Others know they should change and try mightily to do so but fail. I haven’t figured out whether these people should be admired or ridiculed.
A very small number of people decide to change and then do. Or perhaps I should say that they identify one thing about themselves that needs changing and make that change. Whenever I encounter someone who has changed some fundamental quality or habit I am very impressed.
I was once characterized by a book reviewer as a “motivational writer.” Apparently he felt that this moniker debased me. It didn’t.
I am very happy that my writing sometimes has the effect of motivating people. I find it hard to understand what is wrong with that. If he meant to imply that my work doesn’t have substance he should have said so. But I don’t think he dared say that because the book he was reviewing was about building businesses — and that is something I know a great deal more about than the average reader of that book, including him.
Still, a lot of folks have the idea that motivating people is somehow less legitimate than, say, just providing them with information. The thinking seems to go something like this: “Don’t try to excite me. Don’t try to get me moving. Just tell me the facts.”
But knowing the facts is only 20 percent of success. Testing the facts by putting them into action is 80 percent.
I can’t say for sure when motivation started creeping into my writing. But it was at least 20 years ago — well before I started writing books about marketing and business. I think it began when I became a consultant and realized that I couldn’t force my clients to execute my ideas. If I wanted them to follow my suggestions, I would have to take the extra step of motivating them to do it.
When I make presentations to a group, I try to motivate my audience to take the action I want them to take by using the persuasive techniques that I teach marketers to use in selling products. For one thing, I express the value of my ideas in terms of how the people I’m speaking to (not me or anyone else) will benefit from them.
I also sell one idea at a time. I have learned that if I try to do more, they (and I) will come away with nothing.
Whenever possible, I present my ideas through stories — because stories, more than any other information-sharing technique, have the power to inspire.
And I provide proof to support the claims I make. Tangible, relevant, and impressive proof.
When I was a young father, I wanted my young children to be very good at everything they did. I wanted them to be very good students, very good athletes, very good thinkers, etc.
Although they never took a great deal of interest in sports, they did well enough in school and became bright and athletic thinkers.
By the time they had become young men, my desire for them to excel at everything had evaporated. And in its place was something else: pride and satisfaction in knowing that they had become independent and kind.
Many parents, I believe, experience the same shift. When their children are small, they want to see them excel because they believe that childhood performance is an indicator of future success. But as time passes, they come to have a more realistic view of maturation.
One of the most important recognitions is that the most important stages of childhood development are all marked by the need to separate in some way from the parents.
This makes perfect sense when you consider us as creatures of evolution. When our children are helpless, our instinct is to nurture and protect them. As they grow older, they acquire habits (biting the nipples that feed them, breaking free of the hand that holds them, discovering music their parents abhor, etc.) that promote independence.
This is as it should be. A mentally healthy parent learns to accept and eventually desire his children’s independence.
MarkFord
