The Fear of Reeking
The Envy
Usually, when I read through some of my favorite authors, I find myself wishing I wrote as well as they did. Or when I see an ad campaign, I wish I’d come up with it. How do they write like that? How do they think like that? This thought process bleeds into my work as well. Probably for you too. You find yourself wanting to be polished, clean, and perfect. Something that fits into the gigantic pool of work that’s already out there. Something that doesn’t stand out and fits into the template of things already tried and tested. It’s weirdly comforting not to stand out. To not get attention. Because what if it reeks of you? What if it actually sounds like your own
voice, personality, and idea? And what if people don’t like it? That might feel like they’re rejecting you, your skills, and your capacity to be creative. And you don’t want that. So, you might as well never try. Never experiment. Never actually be authentic. Never actually let your work have a soul. Your soul.
The Shrinking
When I was reading David Ogilvy’s Ogilvy on Advertising, I remember thinking I would recognise this man’s writing even if the book didn’t have his name. I read through 50 pages in one sitting simply because of how raw, simple, and real his language was. It wasn't a businessman talking; it was completely unperformative. He had every reason to be a corporate bore, but he chose to be a human instead. This isn’t the case when I sit down to work. Despite being given the full freedom to experiment and broaden my horizons, I find myself trying to fit into a space that feels safe, predictable, and doesn’t catch people off guard. I don't leave them surprised or amused, or give them a taste of my innate personality, simply because of the fear of rejection. Or maybe because of how uncomfortable it is to risk creating something entirely new, molded by my perspective. But if I never try, how will I establish my trademark on the work I do? How will people look through something and say, "Oh, this looks like she worked on it"? That probably is what runs through your mind as well. Ironically, I’ve always loved movies, books, social media posts, or blogs that seemed the
most raw. But somehow, I distance myself from my own work. That is what I need to correct. Even as I write this, there is a barrier to being more real than I already am.
But that is exactly what needs to change.
Deciding to Reek
Learning to be unapologetic. Learning to be crappy, stupid, irrelevant, and dumb. If we don't let the stupid (supposedly), vulnerable version exist, the genius version will never have the chance to show up. And maybe that's the whole point. The vulnerable version is the real work. It's the version with fingerprints on it. The one that reveals how you see the world, what makes you laugh, or what bothers you. The polished version hides all of that. It hides me. And you. I think about the things I've consumed that stayed with me. They were never the most technically perfect; they were the most honest. The writer who admitted they didn't have it figured out. The campaign that felt slightly too weird. The blog post that read like someone just needed to say something out loud. Those things stuck because they had a person inside
them. And the truth is, you can't manufacture that. You can only stop editing it out. So maybe the practice isn't learning how to be more creative or more original or someone prominent. Maybe it's just learning to leave more of yourself in. To not make that pass where it started to get real. To let the sentence sound too much like you stay. Because someone out there will read it and think: Oh, this person gets it. And that one person is worth all the discomfort of being seen.
Reek On.
