We all know the name Oprah.
Just hearing her name sparks an instant stream of associations: Her talk show. Magazine. Acting appearances. Stedman. Potential presidential bid. Book club. “And you get a car!”
Why do we know so much about Oprah?
Well, she has built the ultimate personality brand.
Over the years, she has savvily leveraged her following of adoring fans into new ventures, from Oprah’s Book Club to O Magazine (she’s on the cover of every issue), and even her own television channel.
$3.1 billion later, Oprah has cemented her spot as a beloved household name.
“So, how is your novel coming along?” someone asked.
“Uhhhh…” I replied, and quickly tried to change the subject.
That was a conversation I had after several years of only writing on and off with no set deadline for completing my novel. I realised that if I was ever going to get it done, I would need to set myself a deadline.
I bought a five-year diary and filled in the dates for when I would need to complete each draft, with the end of the year as the goal for completing my first. It worked. I wrote more in that year than I had in the previous three years combined and felt immensely proud of myself.
The following year I completed the second draft with a month to spare. I was feeling great. I assumed it would be no problem to complete the third and final draft by the end of 2017.
That’s where the problems began.
The night is dark.
Your lights flicker — and then go out.
Your heart is pounding. Your palms are sweating. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
Suddenly, you hear a soul-piercing sound echoing through your empty house, seemingly coming from everywhere at once, causing a chill to race up and down your spine and your skin to break out in a fevered sweat.
Is it the howl of a monster?
No, it’s worse.
It’s your client.
Contrary to our sincere hopes for ourselves and others, we humans are not rational creatures.
At times, this can be an infuriating reality to encounter.
We’re surrounded by evidence that people don’t act rationally: You were the best person for the job, but they hired the dropkick loser who interviewed after you. You loved them to bits, and you’re awesome, but they dumped you anyway. You know you’ll lose your job if you call in sick yet again, but you do it anyway. You had one paper left to finish your degree, but you just kind of forgot about it. Etcetera, etcetera, et-traumatic-cetera. Our real lives are messy, irrational places.
I don’t know where I got the idea that everybody (including me) is meant to act in a rational manner (although admittedly, it would be convenient, albeit boring). Nevertheless, the expectation seems to be there.