I forgot to tell you about something. I wrote a book as a joke.
I made a challenge to myself. I would write a book and publish it in the same weekend. And it would be fun.
So when Prince George (son of Prince William and Princess Kate) was born, I “ghost” wrote his autobiography.
I published it under a pseudonym (“John Kenneth Rowling”, get it?)
Two years later, I just re-read it. It wasn’t bad. It was kind of funny. One never knows on the day of.
It’s ok for experiments to go bad. It’s ok to not be perfect I tell myself. I have to give myself permission to accept my imperfections. Else life is too stressful.
So I wrote and published the “Autobiography of Prince George Alexander Louis Windsor” in a weekend.
Because he had just been born I ranked high on search results. I made a few thousand dollars.
I’m on a plane now and I read a few chapters. Not bad. Funny. Because I think of myself as “broken” I think “maybe one day I’ll write this well again.”
And I worry about the things that everyone worries about – are my decisions correct enough to survive me until my dealth.
After the book came out I showed a few people, including a publisher. They offered me a ten book deal. Autobiographies of babies. It would be my niche.
The next book in the series was supposed to be “North by North West” about Kanye and Kim’s baby. I didn’t do it. But maybe later. Who knows?
Don’t knock it. Talented parents like that – an excellent autobiography for a three day old was already forming in my head.
But I didn’t write it. It’s ok to experiment and move on. How many times can you experiment in this life before you die?
It is ONLY through experimenting that we start to carve out the parts of the world we don’t know about. We find out what we love and enjoy. There is no other way.
We find better and better ways to break out of the cage that constantly imprisons us.
Should I do X? Or Y? Find 50 ways to experiment answering this question.
Every day, I try to find at least ten experiments I can do. Should I write in morning? Or night? Should I eat bread today? Or fast? If I write, should I write in second person. Or should I watercolor.
Should I call someone I haven’t spoken to in years? Or not call them?
Each experiment allows me to play with my comfort zone. And to learn more about the world. And to learn more about myself. And to learn more about whatever it is I am specifically experimenting about.
Can I take up a camera today and take one good photograph. Can I interview one person and unlock a secret that will help the rest of humanity.
Can I meet someone and build a connection between him (or her) and me. One that lasts beyond the handshake.
Can I say hello to someone in such a way that they remember me.
Learning how to experiment with your life is a muscle. You have to practice it every day. But, for me, it makes my life better. Even the bad experiments.
I wrote a book. 12,578 people bought it, give or take. Some people read it. Some had fun with it. I got nothing but bad reviews.
But all of the reviewers will die one day. And so will I. And so will you. We’re all in a race to the finish line.
Life is measured not by our good deeds, or by who loved us, or by what charities we’ve done, but by the number of experiments we did.
Because some experiments fizzle out to nothing. And some experiments blow up. Blow up in our faces, Blow up and from a satellite in space looking down, created flash of light that can be seen by the entire universe.
But some experiments discover lightning. And light up the world. And some experiments make fun of the words of a little baby. Life is fun in the laboratory.