A free tool
Ten minutes and a page. You pick one thing you are carrying, and you decide what part of it is actually yours.
Free. You leave with one thing you can put down today.
This is ten minutes and a page. You pick one thing you do not feel ownership of, you write down everything it is actually holding, and then you answer the question underneath it.
Which of these am I carrying because it is mine, and which am I carrying because carrying it is how I prove I am worth something.
Reflect. You pick one thing you are carrying that you do not feel ownership of, and you write down everything it is actually holding, including the parts that never make it onto a list.
Clarify. You answer the question above. Some of what you wrote is yours. Some of it is proof.
Decide. You name three things. One you are deleting. One you are handing off, written as an actual instruction. One you are defending, with real time around it instead of whatever is left.
Nothing is scored. Nothing sorts you into a type. You write it, you read it back, and you decide.
At the end you enter your email, and within a minute everything you wrote comes back to you in your own words, laid out so you can read it. Keep it, print it, forward the handoff to the person who is taking it.
What you write is collected only long enough to email it to you, then deleted. I do not see it. It is not stored and it is not sold. Your email address is used to send your results, and for the Sunday letter only if you ask for it.
If you want the Sunday letter there is a checkbox on that last screen. Leave it alone and you will not hear from me again.
I teach full time. I built this in the pockets of my real life, in the same constraints you are working inside. I know exactly what your plate looks like.
Dana
Yes, once. Your results arrive within a minute of finishing, in your own words. After that, nothing, unless you check the box for the Sunday letter. You can leave that any time.
Yes. There is nothing to buy on the other side of it.
About ten minutes if you write instead of thinking about writing. There is no timer.
No. Nothing is scored and nothing sorts you into a type. You write, you read it back, and you decide.
Start with the thing you thought of while reading this page. It counts even if it seems small, and it is usually the right one. If nothing comes, pick the thing you would be relieved to hand to someone else on Monday morning. You do not have to write well. You have to write it down.
Your answers are collected only long enough to email them to you, then deleted. I do not see them. They are not stored and they are not sold.
Ten minutes. Written, not thought.