What Happens After you Cross the Finish Line?
This week I experienced one of those moments I’ve imagined for a long time.
I held the proof copy of my book, SEEN: The Power of Appreciation at Work, for the first time.
After months of writing, rewriting, researching, questioning, deleting, and writing again, it suddenly became real. Real enough to hold, flip through, and quietly think, we made it this far.
For so long, the goal had been to write the book, and as exciting as that moment was, holding the copy prompted a thought I hadn’t expected.
What if the thing we create isn’t the point?
What if the book, the business, the project, the keynote, or the initiative is simply the catalyst?
Maybe our best work isn’t what we create.
Maybe it’s what happens after we let it go.
We spend so much energy getting something across the finish line that we can forget to ask a different question.
We spend so much energy getting something across the finish line that we can forget to ask a different question.
What happens next?
That question has changed how I’ve been thinking about my book launch.
Over the past few months, as I’ve been planning SEEN: An Evening of Stories, Connection and Appreciation, I’ve realized I’m not simply organizing a book launch. I’m trying to create the conditions for conversations.
The book may have my name on the cover, but it was never meant to end with me. My hope has always been that it sparks conversations, action, and change that help more people feel appreciated; seen, heard, and valued for who they are.
Because I’ve come to believe that ideas rarely change us on their own.
We make sense of them together.
We hear a story and recognize a piece of ourselves in it. Someone offers a perspective we’d never considered. We laugh because we’ve all experienced some version of the same thing. We respectfully disagree. We ask a better question. We leave thinking differently from when we arrived.
Somewhere in those conversations, an idea stops belonging to the author or presenter. It becomes ours.
Gatherings that Stick
Looking back, the gatherings that have stayed with me all seem to share three things.
They create space.
Not every minute is scripted. There’s room to reflect, ask questions, share ideas, and let conversations unfold naturally. Often, it’s the conversation after the event, on the drive home, the email the next morning or over coffee, that becomes the most memorable part.
They invite stories.
Stories have a way of connecting us that facts alone rarely can. They help us see the world through someone else’s eyes, challenge our assumptions, and remind us that we’re often more alike than we realize.
And perhaps most importantly, they start a ripple.
The Ripple Effect
I write about the ripple effect of appreciation in my book. When someone feels genuinely seen and valued, that experience rarely stops with them. It influences how they show up with their colleagues, their families, and their communities.
Conversations ripple too. One thoughtful conversation leads to another. One new perspective changes how we lead a meeting, parent a child, or support a friend. One story gives someone else the courage to share their own.
Holding my book for the first time reminded me that the finish line isn’t always the end. Sometimes it’s simply the point where our work leaves our hands and begins connecting with other people.
And perhaps that’s true for all of us.
Whether you’re building a business, leading a team, launching a project, writing a book, or simply bringing people together around your kitchen table, your greatest contribution may not be the thing you create.
It may be the conversations where your work begins.
What project, idea, or piece of work are you treating as the finish line when it might actually be the beginning?
