Tell me about your whole self
Career-shaping, change-making stuff
This morning I was reading When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chödrön, which is one of those books I've picked up on and off for 20 years and always discover something new each time.
When I opened it up today, I landed on Pema asking these questions:
“How do I speak so that change actually occurs?”
“How do I communicate so that space opens up?”
In two decades, I’d never before read this part that asks the exact kinds of questions that I’ve dedicated my work (and by association, myself) to answering. Books really are magic.
The aim of everything I do, from working sessions to workshops to the words you’re reading right now, is to support you in career-shaping, change-making, space-opening communication. For you, that might look like entering a new chapter, shifting or upgrading your work, launching a dream project, stepping into your thought leader era, or something else that’s calling you into greater visibility.
While it might seem at first glance that things like changing your work and talking about yourself are separate challenges, I see them as directly connected. Sharing your voice isn’t something you do after you’ve done the thing—it goes hand in hand with doing it. It’s the way you identify the conversation that’s yours to lead, connect the dots of your path, define your signature point of view, articulate the value of all that you bring, and invite others to join you.
You know: career-shaping, change-making, space-opening stuff.
For those of us who identify as creative, dynamic, and multidisciplinary, talking about ourselves presents unique challenges that come with their own questions, and this week I want to look these three that we tackle in depth at EV:
“How do I describe what I do without sounding like 10 different people?”
“How do I make my words match my vision?”
“How do I talk about that part of my path?”
If you’re asking these kinds of questions, it’s a good sign that you’re onto something. If you’re getting stuck on them, it’s not you! A lot of people talk about being creative, dynamic, and multidisciplinary, but few people talk about how to talk about it.
As you already know, that's all I talk about. So let’s, you know, talk about it!
"How do I describe what I do without sounding like 10 different people?"
We’re starting off strong with the question that straight-up haunted me for much of the earlier part of my career. Even after I began to embrace the fact that I had many interests and outputs that crossed disciplines, I still felt like I was having an identity crisis every time I tried to tell people about myself.
“So, what do you do?” they'd ask.
“Oh, I’m a [starts listing a bunch of things while desperately trying to leave the conversation]!”
Sometimes I’d pick just a few things to share, but that always felt like only part of the picture. Or I’d try summing it all up with a phrase that ultimately felt too limiting (big hugs to the human Venn diagram) or too broad (“I make stuff!”).
If you’re feeling like a list of people who could populate a large town, this is a good thing! It means you have an inspiring level of curiosity and an exciting opportunity for integration.
Instead of worrying so much about the what, you might try shifting your focus to the how and the why. Ask yourself things like: “No matter what I'm doing, how do I uniquely approach it? How can you tell that I made, led, or did the thing, and it wasn't somebody else?” and “Why does each of these matter me? Is there a curiosity, mission, or style that they have in common?”
Moving from the what into the why and how has a wonderful efficiency, both for you and for everyone you're in conversation with. It can help you uncover the through lines and themes that connect all that you do, so that you can begin to recognize all of the things as natural extensions of all that you are.
And yes: I did use the word “all” in that last sentence no less than three times, for the sake of making a point.
"How do I make my words match my vision?"
There are few things I find more thrilling than discovering that you have a brilliant idea. And few things that can make you bail on that idea faster than when someone asks you to tell them about it.
In your mind, the vision is vibrant and nuanced and meaningful. Maybe you’ve even created a mood board or a sketch—and while it’s not the whole picture, you can still see it like it already exists.
And then you try to describe it to somebody, and it doesn’t feel like that at all. Maybe the person you're talking to doesn't get it. Or they don’t take you seriously. Or they ask a question that you haven't thought through yet, and it throws you.
Suddenly, your brilliant idea feels silly and impossible. What the heck were you thinking?! You must be delusional. You might as well give up.
“DON'T GIVE UP!!!” you hear somebody yell so loudly behind you that it makes you jump. You turn around and see that it’s me, jumping through space and time to invasively-yet-lovingly startle you back into believing in yourself.
If your words are falling short of accurately reflecting the brilliant ideas in your head, this is also a good thing! It means you have a big vision and an exciting opportunity for translation.
Instead of stressing about exactly what you want to say, you might call on your stellar creative imagination by playing around a little bit with metaphor. One of my favorites for a big idea is to think of it like a house where you’re throwing a party. First of all, what kind of house is this, and what kind of party? What does it feel like inside? What's on the playlist? What’s on the menu? Who's there with you? What’s the overall vibe?
Once you have a feeling of the whole sensory experience, you might write it out in a letter or describe it in a voice memo like you're giving a trusted friend a recap. I bet you'll notice some vivid descriptors and clear themes start to emerge. If you get stuck, maybe share it with your friend and see what they notice.
Friends can be smart. Case in point: Ecstatic Voice arguably exists because my smart friends saw what I couldn't yet see.
"How do I talk about that part of my path?"
I meet a lot of self-described impossible cases. I greet each one with wide-open arms, because A. I used to consider myself President of the ICC (Impossible Cases Club), B. I love a good challenge, and C. I’ve yet to meet an impossible case who isn’t actually a genius in disguise.
We all have parts of our stories that we haven’t yet made sense of and that we fear might not ever make sense: the choice that felt like a fumble, a left turn when you should have gone right, or just a time when you-know-what went down and you're still putting the pieces together.
The first thing I want to say is that you don’t ever have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about. There’s a strict confidentiality clause in every EV agreement for this very reason: I want to make it absolutely clear to everyone I work with that you get to decide what you want to share, when you want to share it, and how.
The second thing I want to say is that you make sense! Can I prove it? Without meeting you, no. But I can tell you that I haven’t been stumped yet. Every day I get to see sharp turns reveal intuitive logic and scatterplot paths become a series of pretty strategic choices, and nothing lights me up more.
If there’s a part of your path that you’re struggling to wrap your head around, this is (you guessed it) also a good thing! It means you have a fascinating trajectory and an exciting opportunity for a reframe.
Instead of shoving that particular section of your timeline into the back of a drawer, you might take it out and look at it gently. Notice what came before and what followed: Where does it fit within the bigger picture of your story?
To help, you might give yourself some generously framed questions, like: “What did I learn about myself in this part of my path?” “How did this time influence my creative point of view?” “What hidden benefit does this sharp turn carry that a straight line might not?”
With ample amounts of self-compassion paired with a healthy dose of curiosity and the clarity of hindsight, you might just find that you too are a genius in disguise—fumbles, left turns, you-know-whats and all.
There’s so much more to talk about, but my inner “don't make this a novel, Cate” radar is beeping loudly.
If you're ready to roll up your sleeves and go deeper into answering the above questions and more, definitely check out Tell Me About Yourself: the brand-new, hands-on Ecstatic Voice workshop set to start in January.
This is the first time since I began teaching (also 20 years ago!) that I’ve had free rein in designing the curriculum from start to finish, and it’s the first time I’m teaching something that I’ve developed and tested from the ground up, and both of those things led me to create the workshop that I wish I could have taken at literally any point in my career.
Applications have already started filling my inbox, and you’re all so inspiring! I can't wait to support you in confidently communicating your way forward into 2024 and beyond.
P.S. As always, if you know someone who would enjoy The Ecstatic Review, please pass it along! All are welcome, and every voice makes this show that much fuller.
"You turn around and see that it's me, jumping through space and time to invasively-yet-lovingly startle you back into believing in yourself." HAHAHA & 🥰🥰🥰
I loved this Cate!
This part reminded me so much of the work I advocate for in my space even though it's startups and not individuals - developing a story, brand philosophies, thoughtful content:
"While it might seem at first glance that things like changing your work and talking about yourself are separate challenges, I see them as directly connected. Sharing your voice isn’t something you do after you've done the thing—it goes hand in hand with doing it. It's the way you identify the conversation that's yours to lead, connect the dots of your path, define your signature point of view, articulate the value of all that you bring, and invite others to join you."
I don't think all the brand work comes after you build the thing, some of it comes in the process.