It is almost summer and there is an air of expectation. The collective hope is that in the next few months the days will wind up or wind down, depending on whether one is hoping to reduce activity and relax, or reduce one kind of activity and replace it with another. This vibe of waiting and expectation can be frustrating, and yes — anti-climactic —to a great degree. It reminds me of the anticipation of waiting for something specific to take place: like to hear whether you are going to get that job, or whether the results of some test is what you had hoped. The waiting can be nerve wracking, and then when the results come —whether they are below or beyond your expectations — there is invaria

In a conversation following a lecture about being future-ready, a twenty-something year old participant shared her concerns with the group: "The future seems so far away to me," especially when I have to make a small decision. I don't sweat the big decisions," she continued, "but, put me in front of a freezer with 50 flavours of ice-cream and I can stand there confused, indecisive and helpless for an hour." —"And when the hour is done?" asked the group. "I will take the same flavor that I always take — and will go away frustrated, unsatisfied and angry with myself." —"Have you tried to flip a coin?" —"Can you ask someone else to recommend a flavor?" —"Why don't you taste a few options, and t

When I was 10 years old, my cousin, who must have been at least in his 30s — man, he was OLD — taught me how to play chess. As he taught me the pieces, the moves and the strategy, I internalised it all, and quickly beat him at his own game. (Let's be honest, he probably let me win.) At the tender age of 10 — ever-precocious — I took one of the first major executive decisions of my life, and decided to never play chess again. And thus, now that I am at least a decade older than my cousin was when he taught me to play, I remain an unbeaten chess champion. I am an unlikely chess player. I don't have the patience or dedication, or interest to actually play. My stance drives real chess players ma

In a previous blog post, I shared some thoughts about giving traditional publishing a chance. I have already published two novels independently, and I feel like I should — at very least — learn about the other side and make an educated decision about which way to work. So I did it. The learning curb is pretty steep, I'll admit. Since I shared that deliberation, I have: — Researched how the process works and what needs to be done — Written a more-or-less standard query letter, based on what seems to be general best practices. — Prepared my manuscript (I am still not sure that I am doing this right!) — Researched literary agents who are right for my genre and writing style, and who are open

I have just embarked on a new project which I am really excited about. The project combines two of my passions: change management and writing. The concept is simple: interview a bunch of people from all walks of life, around topics connected to change management. After the interviews are complete, release them as a series of articles. In eager preparation, I have: — done due diligence — prepared my questions and tested them — set up six interviews with diverse people from all over the world. These people are in different professions. They grew up in different places, are from different generations, and were raised in different cultures from me. So here's where I stand. I have done three int