Eventually the Leaf Has to Land
A leaf falls from a tree and floats.
The breeze catches it. Carries it left, then right. Up for a moment, then drifting down. You watch it move and never know where it's going to land.
It drifts. Explores. Takes its time.
But eventually? It lands somewhere.
I Let My Ideas Float Too Long
Last year I had an idea for a novel.
Detective story. Or maybe a thriller. Set in a small town. Or maybe a city. Present day. Or maybe the 1980s.
I spent three months letting it drift. Exploring possibilities. Seeing where the wind took it.
Every week it was something different. I'd get excited about a new direction, chase it for a few days, then let it float somewhere else.
Three months in, I had notebooks full of ideas and zero pages written.
The leaf was still floating. It needed to land.
Drifting Is Part of the Process—Until It Isn't
Here's what I finally figured out:
Ideas need time to float. Explore. Test the air currents. See what's possible.
That's not wasted time. That's how you find out what the idea actually wants to be.
But there comes a point where you have to let it land.
You have to decide: This is a thriller, not a detective story. Present day, not the 1980s. Small town, final answer.
Not because those are the perfect choices. Because you can't write a novel that's still floating.
The Pattern Shows Up Everywhere
My business drifted for six months.
Consulting? Productized service? Course? Membership? I kept letting it blow around, testing ideas, staying open.
That was useful—for a while.
But eventually I had to land on something. Pick one. Build it. Not because it was guaranteed to work, but because floating forever isn't a business.
Same with my morning routine. I experimented with different structures for weeks. Wake at 5am, or 6am? Journal first, or exercise? Coffee before or after?
All that drifting helped me understand what mattered.
But eventually I had to pick one version and commit. Otherwise I'm just restarting every day instead of building momentum.
Even organizing my workspace. I rearranged it four different ways over a month. Desk by the window? In the corner? Facing the wall?
The drifting helped me see options. But I needed to land on one and actually work there.
The leaf explores. Then it lands. Both phases matter.
How to Know When It's Time to Land
You'll feel it.
The drifting will start to feel like procrastination instead of exploration.
You'll notice you're circling the same ideas instead of discovering new ones.
You'll feel frustrated that nothing's getting built.
That's when you land.
Pick something. Not the perfect thing. Just something solid enough to build on.
You can always adjust later. But you can't build on air.
Permission to Make a Decision
You don't need all the answers before you land.
You don't need the perfect version figured out.
You just need to commit to one direction long enough to see what it becomes.
The leaf doesn't choose the perfect spot. It just lands and starts decomposing into something useful.
Your idea will too.
Try This Today
Think about an idea that's been floating.
Write down three versions it could become.
Pick one. Not the best one. Just one that feels solid enough.
Commit to building that version for the next two weeks.
Let the leaf land.
What idea have you been letting drift for too long?