When our eldest son was a baby, the poor kid often had to put up with my company.
I loved it. We’d go to the park, take long walks round London and always find time to have a nap.
But because on those days I spent nearly all my time looking after him — and looking at him — something odd happened.
Whenever I looked at another adult, their heads and hands seemed massive.
And ever so slightly wrong.
My sense of scale was completely out of kilter.
Something similar happens when you run your own business.
Because you plough every waking hour into your enterprise, your sense of scale goes awry.
Mine has. In reality, I’m building up a copywriting agency in Essex; but in my mind we’re about to open offices in London, Paris and New York.
Maybe we will — one day. But until that happens (and even then), I’ll continue to make sure someone else reads anything I write for the firm.
Not because I can’t sell what we do do, but because I’m worried I’ll sell something we can’t do.
And that’s a lightning quick way to wreck your reputation.
So if you’re in business and you’ve got something to say, ask yourself a quick question before you start writing.
How long have I been looking at this baby?
If it’s been a while, you need someone to look at it with fresh eyes.