Out Loud October

Tad is on his bike, riding circles in the background, and I'm recording a Business Fire Drill on the trail. He's my creative director today — my ten-year-old, keeping me honest, keeping me moving. And watching him made me think about who I used to be when I made content.

When the boys were little, I didn't have great lighting. I was probably bouncing a baby while I talked, or someone was running through the frame, and that was just — life. I wasn't performing. I was living, and doing business, and blending the two together because there wasn't a roadmap that said you had to separate them.

And then something shifted. The more I grew, the more I started noticing the people who had everything dialed in. Perfect audio. Studio lighting. Graphics that swept in and out. And I started measuring myself against them. Not dramatically, not all at once. Just a little bit quieter. And then a little bit more. The kids got bigger, and the quiet got quieter.

Thank goodness I put my content on YouTube — a search engine. Even when I got quiet, those videos kept finding people. The algorithm didn't need me to show up every day. It kept feeding my business without me pushing it. And I am so grateful for that, because quiet didn't become silence.

But this morning, after dropping Kip at school and heading straight outside with Tad pedaling behind me — I made a decision. Out Loud October.

My out loud isn't going to look like a Taylor Swift concert or a Tony Robbins arena. It's never going to be that decibel level — at least not right now, maybe not ever. My out loud sounds like a mom on a trail, where you can hear birds, and maybe a scooter, and the audio isn't perfect, but if we were walking together right now, this is exactly what I would sound like.

Being out loud isn't a volume. It's a decision to put your voice somewhere.

Content is how you tell the world what matters to you. How you help, how you teach, how you play, how you problem-solve. You can do all of that at a volume level one. You can do it at a twenty. The mistake I made — the one I kept making — was measuring my decibels against someone else's. That's not a comparison that ever goes well.

My volume level one this fall was September. I documented our worldschooling trip every single day — posted on Facebook, shared pictures, just talked. No strategy. No content calendar. I just started talking. And that's what gave me back the rhythm. The confidence. The practice. The joy of it.

Now it's October, and I'm making a Business Fire Drill every single day. I missed October 5th — the day's energy went toward planning a trip for Kip and me, and I chose to let that be okay. I didn't spiral. I didn't go quiet. I just got back up the next morning and went outside.

Here's the thing about putting your voice on a search-backed platform: it can never go truly radio silent. The platform circulates it for you. You're not dependent on pushing it every day for it to keep doing its job. That's freedom. That's the infrastructure that holds you when life pulls your attention somewhere else.

So if you've been quiet — for whatever reason — I want you to figure out your volume. Not someone else's. Yours. What level are you at right now? What level do you want to get to? Start there. Volume level one. Just start talking.

No wrong turns. Just the scenic route.

Listen to The Scenic Route →