Brian Tracy once wrote:

I have always liked that idea.

Brian wrote the foreword for one of my books, so his words have a little more personal meaning for me than something I simply came across in a collection of quotations.

But more importantly, after nearly 20 years of helping people create independent income and move into the next chapter of their working lives, I have watched his observation prove itself over and over again.

There is usually a moment when things change.

Not when someone first thinks about doing something.

Not when they begin researching it.

Not when they attend a conference, download a guide, watch a webinar, buy a course, or talk about what they might do someday.

Things begin to change when they make a decision.

A real one.

They put a stake in the ground and say:

This is when I begin.

One of the interesting things about doing this work for so many years is that I frequently run into people I met at conferences several years earlier.

Some come up to me and say something like:

“Winton, I'm so glad I did this. I'm working with clients now. I've already earned back what I spent on the training. I'm doing work I really enjoy.”

Sometimes their lives have changed considerably.

They may be working from Portugal, Mexico, France, or a place they had dreamed about living for years.

Others simply have another source of income that makes retirement much more comfortable.

Some are consulting.

Some are coaching.

Some are writing, advising, managing projects, or providing highly specialized services based upon things they already knew how to do.

What they have in common is that somewhere along the way, they made the decision to start.

And then there is another conversation I have surprisingly often.

Someone will come up to me and say:

“You know, I bought your program four years ago.”

Or seven years ago.

And then comes the sentence:

“I really haven't done much with it yet.”

They still want the same thing.

They still talk about creating independent income.

They still want more freedom.

They still want to use their experience in a different way.

They just haven't started.

Four years have gone by.

Sometimes seven.

That difference fascinates me because the people who succeed are not necessarily smarter.

They're not necessarily more talented.

They don't necessarily have more impressive résumés.

And they certainly weren't all completely confident when they began.

The biggest difference is often much simpler.

One person made a decision and started moving.

The other kept waiting.

This is where we can fool ourselves.

Waiting doesn't always feel like procrastination.

Sometimes it looks very responsible.

“I need to do a little more research.”

“I need to learn more about AI.”

“I need to get my LinkedIn profile fixed first.”

“I want to understand the market better.”

“Things are busy right now.”

“We're going to be traveling.”

“Maybe after the holidays.”

“I think I'll wait until I retire.”

“I just need to think about it.”

Every one of those statements can be perfectly reasonable.

The problem isn't any one delay.

The problem is what happens when one delay becomes another.

And then another.

Suddenly the thing you were going to do “in a few months” has been sitting there for three years.

Meanwhile, the calendar kept moving.

Henry David Thoreau expressed much the same idea in Walden:

Most people know that part.

The rest is even more interesting.

He said that if a person endeavors to live the life they have imagined, they can meet with “a success unexpected in common hours.”

The important word to me is advances.

He didn't say:

If one completely understands everything...

If one eliminates every risk...

If one has a perfect plan...

If one feels absolutely confident...

He said advances.

Moves.

Begins.

Takes the next step.

And that may be one of the hardest lessons for accomplished professionals to learn.

Many of the people we work with have spent 25+ years becoming very good at what they do.

They're engineers.

Physicians.

Nurses.

College professors.

CPAs.

Executives.

Project managers.

Technical professionals.

Consultants.

People who have built careers around being competent and getting things right.

That strength can become a problem when you're entering something new.

An engineer naturally wants more data.

Someone from computer science wants to understand the system.

An executive wants a strategy.

A professional accustomed to expertise doesn't particularly enjoy suddenly being a beginner again.

So we think:

Once I understand this better, then I'll start.

Unfortunately, that's usually backward.

Much of the understanding comes after you start.

You learn what clients want by talking to clients.

You get better at proposals by writing proposals.

You discover how to describe your expertise by trying to describe it.

You find out which part of your experience people will pay for by putting it into the marketplace.

You gain confidence by doing the work.

Action produces information that thinking alone simply cannot provide.

I've watched this happen hundreds of times.

Before the decision, someone sees obstacles.

After the decision, they begin seeing possibilities.

Before the decision:

“I don't know anybody who would hire me.”

Afterward:

“You know, I worked with someone at Boeing who might know three people I should talk to.”

Before:

“I don't know what I could possibly consult on.”

Afterward:

“I've solved this problem for companies for 15 years. Maybe that's actually the service.”

Before:

“I don't know whether anybody would pay me for this.”

Afterward:

“Let's find out.”

The world didn't suddenly change.

The person's relationship with the world changed.

Once you've decided where you're going, you begin noticing roads that were invisible when you were merely considering the destination.

Putting a stake in the ground is not the same thing as recklessness.

It doesn't mean quitting your job tomorrow.

It doesn't mean risking your retirement savings.

It doesn't mean making some dramatic announcement to your family.

And it certainly doesn't mean you need to know exactly what your independent work will look like five years from now.

For many people, the smartest approach is gradual.

You might still be employed.

You might begin with five hours a week.

You might explore several possibilities before deciding exactly where your expertise fits.

You might take a small first project simply to learn.

But you can do all of those things after making a decision.

The decision may simply be:

I am going to create independent income, and I am going to begin now.

That's enough.

Now there is a direction.

Most of us think about the cost of doing something.

What will the training cost?

How much time will it require?

What happens if I make a mistake?

Those are legitimate questions.

But there's another calculation people rarely make.

What is the cost of waiting?

Suppose you postpone something for another year.

That's twelve months in which you aren't developing your skills in the marketplace.

Twelve months without building client relationships.

Twelve months without learning which services people respond to.

Twelve months without testimonials, reviews, repeat clients, referrals, or income.

And perhaps most importantly, twelve months without building confidence.

Then the next year you are not starting from Year Two.

You're still starting from Day One.

That is the part of postponement we don't see.

“Great leap forward” can sound dramatic.

For most people I work with, it isn't.

The leap is the decision.

The action that follows may be very small.

Write the profile.

Schedule the conversation.

Identify the first service.

Build the portfolio piece.

Send the proposal.

Contact the former colleague.

Take the first project.

Learn from it.

Then take the next one.

The people who eventually create substantial changes in their lives usually don't do it in one enormous move.

They make a decision and then accumulate small moves in the same direction.

That is what creates momentum.

And momentum changes things.

If there is something you've been thinking about for a long time, perhaps the question isn't whether you're completely ready.

Very few people ever feel completely ready.

The better question may be:

How much longer do I want to remain at the decision point?

There comes a time when more thinking stops helping.

There comes a time when another month of research is just another month.

There comes a time to put a stake in the ground.

Not:

“Someday.”

Not:

“When things settle down.”

Not:

“After I figure everything out.”

But:

This is when I begin.

Brian Tracy called it a clear decision and a commitment to action.

Thoreau called it advancing confidently in the direction of your dreams.

Whatever you call it, I've watched what happens when people finally do it.

They start moving.

And once they start moving, possibilities begin appearing that they could never have seen while standing still.

A year from now will arrive either way.

The only question is whether, when it arrives, you'll still be thinking about the life you wanted to create—or whether you'll be living some version of it.