The line between protecting your work and stalling it

Have you ever struggled to collaborate on something that’s really important to you?

Have you ever hesitated to invite others into your work because it feels so personal, or because you want it to stay true to your voice and you’re not sure whether bringing in someone else will strengthen or dilute it?

That’s the tension I’ve been sitting with over the last couple of months.

I’ve been working behind the scenes on a major creative project that’s rooted in my work and also deeply personal to me.

While I’m doing the majority of the work on it solo, I have a team available to support me that I completely trust. And yet, because this project feels so close to my heart, I’ve been keeping it close—literally. At times, I’ve found myself hesitant to share my work and invite collaboration.

I know exactly what’s driving that choice, and maybe you can relate: I have a real desire for authenticity in this project. In working on it, I’ve spent more time listening to my inner voice than I probably ever have. I want every part of it to feel fully aligned with who I am and what I want to share with the world, and because of that, I have a very clear vision for the end result.

And I think that’s a good thing. I’m proud of how I’ve approached this project because it’s helped me do the most authentic work I’ve probably ever done in my life so far.

But sometimes, I catch myself in a frustrating loop: I return to the same pieces again and again, refining, adding, and reshaping. While that often brings me closer to the vision I have for the finished product, if I stay in the loop too long, it turns into a hamster wheel. I reach a point where I’m so close to the work that I’m no longer moving it forward. Instead, I'm just spinning in circles, reworking the same ideas.

What’s been tough to figure out is whether all that spinning is actually serving me. Is staying in the loop a sign that I’m being intentional about getting it right? Is it helping me clarify my vision? Or am I just stuck and in need of help to move forward?

That is where my resistance to collaboration is really coming from. It’s not that I don't see the value in collaborating—I know I won’t get this project done without help—it’s that it’s hard to know the right time to bring others into the process. 

I have a real fear of inviting others in too soon. In the past, I’ve had times where I’ve asked people for collaboration and feedback before I felt ready, and their suggestions only muddied the waters. But by “ready,” I really mean “clear”: I wasn’t sure how to articulate what I needed help with, and without a vision for where I was trying to go, it was hard for others to support me. I’ve learned that collaboration is often far more effective when I take the time to get clear before I ask for help. 

But waiting for clarity has its downsides, too. Telling myself that I need to be crystal-clear on my vision before I can let anyone else help can create a different kind of problem—one I first encountered while I was writing Permission To Screw Up

Early in the writing process, instead of sending completed chapter drafts to my editor, I would hold onto them. I’d continue to edit, tinker, and tweak. Sometimes that helped me get clearer and improve what I had written, but more often than not, it stalled my progress and prevented my editor from being able to help me make my work better.

After a couple months, my editor shared feedback that has stayed with me ever since. She said, “Kristen, you’ve just got to make it bad. If you make it bad, we can make it better together. But if you don't make it and send it to me, I can't help you. There's nothing I can do.” 

I took her feedback to heart and began sharing drafts that were not yet 100% where I wanted them to be. Inviting her into the process earlier led to better work, and it helped build the momentum I needed to finish the book. 

My hesitation to collaborate now isn’t about a fear of sharing “bad” or unfinished work. I’ve been so thoughtful with this current project that I actually believe what I’m creating is already strong. What I’m wrestling with is choosing the right moment to invite collaboration—the moment that helps me invite feedback and move forward while also staying true to the vision for what I want to create.

I decided to share this dilemma with my team. I told them that I wanted to work on overcoming my resistance and collaborate more intentionally, and that one commitment I could make was bringing them in sooner. But I also asked for flexibility: I told them that if sharing my work made me realize that I’d opened it up to feedback too early, I might need to hit pause, keep refining, and come back once I have more clarity.

Together, the team and I agreed to give it a try—and within a week, we made more progress than I had in the previous two combined. Instead of muddling my vision, collaborating with the team actually increased my level of clarity. 

That’s what surprised me most: I assumed that protecting my authenticity in this project meant keeping my work close. I assumed it meant listening only to myself and bringing in others when my vision was fully formed. But the feedback that I received in that first week didn’t dilute my authenticity; it strengthened it. Even the feedback I didn’t agree with helped me just as much as the feedback I liked. Instead of confusing or derailing me, it helped me further clarify what mattered most to me.

In the spirit of keeping it real, it doesn’t always work that seamlessly. There have been other moments recently when I shared something and realized I’d invited the team in before I was ready. Instead of helping me move forward, their feedback threw me off, and it took me some time to find my footing in the work again. I told them how I felt, stepped back into my inner world, sat with the project a little longer, and came back once I had more clarity. That was a moment when I needed to protect what I was creating, and they fully supported it. 

I’m learning that open communication is what makes this all possible.

Collaboration is always a little tricky. No matter how much experience you have with it, it can be hard to know when to let people in, especially when it’s something so deeply personal and creative. 

What I’m realizing now is that there is not a perfect, one-size-fits-all moment to start collaborating. But as long as you are intentional about when you invite others in and treat the feedback you receive as a tool for clarity, it can be helpful. 

In the past, when collaboration derailed me, it was often because I acted on people's feedback too quickly. I would implement their suggestions without stopping to ask myself: Do I feel aligned with this? Do I see it differently? Now that I take that extra step, feedback from others sometimes leads me to an even deeper level of thinking about my projects—and even helps me recognize when it’s best to pull back and spend more time with the work on my own. 

What I hope this example shows is that collaboration doesn't have to come at the cost of your authenticity. It takes a certain level of bravery and vulnerability to let people in before you feel ready or clear. But if you always wait for that moment, you may never pick up the kind of momentum you desire in a project because you're continuing to do all the heavy lifting yourself.

At the same time, when something matters to you, it’s okay to protect it. Be honest about how much you care. Speak your fears out loud. Make it clear when you need more time with it. That kind of transparency is what allows collaboration to support your end vision.

How about you? Have you ever struggled with this balance like me? Where might you believe you’re protecting something important to you? Where might you actually be slowing it down? What could change if you invited others in, not to define your thinking, but to help you get closer to your own? Hit “reply” and tell me and my team all about it. We love reading your responses each week.

Here’s to protecting what matters while inviting others in to make our work stronger.

Big hugs,

Kristen

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Almost a year later, I kept my promise