An open letter to Seth Godin in resonse to his post Moving On.
I’m up early this morning, before Michael. And next to his reading chair is your little book THE DIP. Inside the book is wedged a yellow highlighter. When he’s done with this book, and all the highlights have been captured, it will slide into it’s place next to all the others on the Seth Godin section of our bookshelf. These books get pulled out from time to time and blue highlighter marks may be added to the already present yellow ones. Later pink lines may join them.
Your books are read and reread. Sometimes they’re sent out on “mission trips” or get taken to spend a week with a friend. Most return home with a thank-you note stuck inside, some choose to relocate permanently. From there who knows where their journey takes them.
It’s no secret that my husband, myself, my daughters, son-in-laws, friends—almost everyone we interact with—will, at some point reference or recommend one of your “traditional” books. TRIBES and LINCHPIN are almost household words around here. Your blog posts also come up frequently in conversation and get forwarded in emails. If you Twittered your tweets would be retweeted and retweeted. Each has its unique job to do.
It’s true that things are changing drastically in the world of words and ideas. Nobody knows this better than you. You’re a big reason. The possibilities are being realized faster than we can absorb them. However, in my opinion, the end of traditional publishing has not yet come. Not at all. It has a most crucial and vital part to play in feeding our souls and our minds and challenging us to change our lives.
I see this fleshed out in my own home. Mike’s chair is the perfect example. Propped in the seat is his laptop, waiting to be awakened for the day. The iPad is perched on the side table next to THE DIP and the highlighter, and the is Kindle peaking up from his briefcase on the floor waiting to be compared to the newest Kindle which will arrive sometime today.
I want to encourage to rethink this “quitting.” You say one has to know when to quit and when to stick. Don’t quit that which is obviously sticking. You and your works have a place in our lives that will never be unstuck and we’re very grateful for that.
I think your best work is yet to come … and that’s saying A LOT! Maybe not right now. Maybe it needs to ferment for several years. Who knows? All I hope is that, when it does come, you don’t quit and you give it to us in every form possible—especially traditional publishing.