Miss kicking the ball
The thing that brought you joy in the first place is the first thing you stop doing as your business grows. Writing a book reminded me what kicking the ball feels like.
Making things again feels unbelievably good. For the last three years, I've been working on a book and it's been one of the most satisfying projects I've ever worked on. There's something wonderful about crafting something physical—a creative act, a thing that will exist in the world for years, maybe decades, to come.
I used to create things every day. When I started my company almost twenty years ago, I was a designer. I'd put on headphones, drop into a flow state, and make something.
Mockups. Logos. Websites. Code. You name it.
But over the years, that happened less and less.
This is the paradox of scaling a business.
In the end, you no longer do the thing that started it all. The thing that brought you joy in the first place.
It feels a bit like going from a soccer player on the field, to the captain of the team, to the owner of the team up in the owner's box.
You miss kicking the damn ball. The roaring crowd. Beers with the team afterwards.
Writing a book felt like kicking the ball again.
While I love business and all the problem solving that goes along with it, I've come to realize that I need individual side projects that I can pour myself into.
That's what this newsletter is: something creative and fun, where I don't have to manage a team of people or field HR crises or negotiate raises.
I just turn on some good music and write for a couple hours.
And man does it ever feel good.
What's yours?
Originally published in the What was that like for you? issue of Never Enough.

Andrew · Victoria · May 18, 2024
Read next
I gave $16 million dollars away
What I learned about giving money away—and why scientific research is the part of philanthropy that feels most like venture capital.
ReadI spent 25 years treating the wrong thing
On waking up in Maui certain I had cancer, the little pink pill that finally turned my brain into a library, and the prison most of us live in without realizing the door is unlocked.
ReadI wasted my twenties...
What ADHD treatment, $16M of philanthropy, beta blockers, and the right contact lenses taught me about not spending decades trying to fix the wrong problem.
Read
The book
The title is a confession.
320 pages on why having a lot didn’t fix anything. Out now in hardcover, ebook, and audiobook narrated by yours truly.
Read about the bookKeep reading
The newsletter is free.
Thirty thousand people read it. About six of them email me back, and one is my mom.