Without This, Nobody Wins

The Power of Community in the Midst of Struggle

Recently, an old friend reached out to me. He was stuck on a project, worried about the same thing every self-employed writer always concerns themselves with when facing a major crisis: he might have to go get a real job.

Photo by Frankie Lopez on Unsplash

We chatted for a bit, brainstormed a few potential solutions, and within a day, he had a plan he was working on and already starting to see some improvement. It looked like he might not have to grow up after all, which is always a good thing.

I don’t care who you are, what you want, or where you think you’re headed in life. That old African proverb is true: if you want to fast, go alone; but if you want to go far, go together. We all need a team, a band of brothers and sisters not only cheering us on but in the trenches with us.

Personally, I never met a deadline I didn’t despise and never hit one that didn’t deserve it. Which is to say that I have a funny relationship with discipline: I need it but avoid it, want it but resist it. How dare it tempt me with its promises of hard work and reward? I am understandably suspicious of anything like that.

So, to do almost anything worthwhile, anything at all, I need the support of others. My wife, my friends and family; a good friend, an old buddy, some far-off mentor to reconnect with. I need someone who knows where I’ve been and has seen me do this before, someone who can encourage me when I get discouraged.

We all need someone to lean on, and writers need it worst of all.

Writing, they say, is lonely work, and those words will devastate even the most willing of participants. Because if it’s work, then you’re going to need to apply some effort and exercise some patience, and who wants to do that? And if it’s lonely, you’d better find a way to love the work and stay motivated amidst the inevitable doldrums.

Otherwise, the process just might swallow you whole.

All things in life worth doing are worth doing badly—at first.

Writing is especially this way. There is just no other way to begin. To do anything poorly is, of course, demoralizing, because who wants to lose a bunch before they ever have any hope of winning? Rarely, though, is there another way to success.

My son and I just started playing pickleball together at the local rec center, and after losing one game after another to the geriatric crowd that seems to dominate the sport, we did a quick huddle and changed our goal: let’s try to lose ten games in a row, as quickly as possible, before we ever attempt to win one.

The aspiration was counterintuitive, but it worked. Instead of setting ourselves up for disappointment, we assumed our inevitable defeat and instead focused on the mechanics of the game, on the practice.

When winning was taken off the table, the experience became more enjoyable. It felt like play. We were out of the woods now, having fun and learning as we went.

When my friend called me, worried about how to get unstuck in his project, all he really needed to know was that he wasn’t alone, that others had been in this same spot and he would make it out alive.

He also needed an excuse to try some things that might not work.

When you are stuck, it is not always the first or second solution that helps you change your circumstances. It is often not one thing at all that saves you. What does save you is iteration, the freedom to experiment, to move in a lot of different directions and see what it’s going to take to move forward.

That’s the secret. Find someone who’s been there before, moan and complain to them, and try some stuff. It’s not elegant, but it does work.

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When I am struggling, I need to know there are others out there who get me, who see my challenges and can relate. I need to know there’s a way out of this maze that’s not all dead-ends and cul-de-sacs, that this road does, indeed, lead somewhere beyond perdition. I must know this to continue writing.

Sartre once observed that hell was other people, but he was only half right. Hell is feeling alone amidst other people. It is the experience of isolation in a crowd, especially when you are hurting and believe there is no one else who understands. That is the worst, and perhaps only, form of loneliness.

Because if you still feel completely separated from everyone you know in such dire circumstances, what hope do you have of ever making it through? There is nothing left to do but despair.

Or at least, so it feels. Hopelessness is inevitable until you find another who knows your pain and can see beyond the gutter you currently find yourself in. Call this vision or leadership, even foresight; but you need it if you want to work on anything worthwhile.

A person can only coast on fumes for so long. Eventually, you need community. You need help and guidance, a little encouragement now and again. Not always and not even consistently, but every once in a while. There is something alchemical that happens when you are in the midst of a tough time and find others around you at varying stages of that same struggle who bravely admit, “Yeah, me too. I’ve been there before. It’ll be okay.”

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Quietly, over the past year and a half, I’ve been working with a handful of writers on their respective books, and most have finished their first drafts. Several are on their third or fourth.

These were people who had never written a book before. Many had tried, but all failed or simply quit before finishing. Not so anymore. They are all about to become authors now, and this is indeed significant.

What made the difference? They did. I wish I could claim credit for what these people pulled off, but I can’t. It was them, showing up for each other as often as once a week.

As they got into a groove of helping each other, they couldn’t stop. It became infectious, like a good drug shared with friends, pulling each deeper into the addiction of discipline. And now, they’ve made something that no one can take away from them.

Because of this accomplishment, they’re changed—you always are. Every book you write transforms you, especially the first. Each is an impossible puzzle to solve, but once you get to the end of the project, you are Odysseus now come home, a battle-tested hero who has lived to tell about it.

There is a newfound confidence anytime anyone accomplishes something difficult. But heroic feats do not happen in isolation. There are always helpers, always a community of friends and allies who help you get there.

What other way is there to make it through a hard thing, especially when you’ve never done it before?

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My friend just reached out to me and offered his thanks. It’s been a week since he told me of his struggle, and he’s now found a way through. That’s often how it goes. Just a few choice words from a friend, a little empathy and encouragement, and you are on to the next milestone.

Of course, I had to turn it back around on him and tell the truth, which was that all I was doing was repeating the words he’s shared with me so many times before when I was feeling hopeless. We both agreed to be there for each other the next time one of us needed it.

Yes, it’s fun to pretend that we’re all self-made men and women, that we all deserve our luck and success. But the truth is always a bit more complicated and a bit more human than that. Each of us needs encouragement at critical times, especially when we’re doing something for the first time.

Every story of success really is a story of community, and everyone is always fighting their own invisible battles.¹ The next time you see someone struggling, try to offer them a few words to nourish their soul. And if it happens to be you who is the one foundering, remember that you’ve been here before, and you’ll be here again.

But if you are a human struggling to see beyond your current challenge, know that you are never alone.

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P.S. Today is the last day to get this bundle of writing resources from Joe Bunting. I don’t typically promote stuff like this anymore, but Joe is the real deal and you won’t want to miss this once-in-a-blue-moon opportunity.

P.P.S. Try to think of a time when you were struggling and a few friendly words pulled you out of it. I’d love to hear about it. Feel free to share in the comments below.

1. The first part of this quote comes from my book The Art of Work, which is a personal development book about finding the work you were meant to do. It was published in 2015, but I continue getting great reviews and responses to it even now. The follow-up to that book, Real Artists Don’t Starve, is available this month as a discounted audiobook on Audible (you have to be signed in to Audible to get it).