My mother was anything but conventional. With her loud, unabashed personality, she often dished out advice that was as inappropriate as it was unforgettable. While I cherish many of those moments now, one of her most valuable lessons was about the art of self-promotion.
As a bookish pre-teen who spent far too much time immersed in Woody Allen films—let’s just say I wasn’t your average 11-year-old—I leaned heavily on self-deprecating humor. I thought it was charming; my friends seemed to enjoy it until my mother shattered my illusion: “When you constantly put yourself down, people will remember those negative statements but forget who said them.”
The source? That’s me. How could they not connect the dots? “But I’m just joking!” I protested. She replied, “It doesn’t matter. They won’t recall that it was you who said it, nor will they remember it was funny.”
I pondered this. I envisioned a scenario: “Should we invite Lauren to the gathering? Nah, I heard she tends to get awkward.” Maybe my mother had a point. And then she added a revelation that changed everything: “It works the other way too. If you share positive things about yourself, people will also forget where it came from.”
Fast forward a few years, and I found myself as an assistant at a major network. I handled calls and appointments while watching writers and actors walk out of my boss’s office with the gigs I yearned for. Feeling stuck, I confided in someone about my desire to be a writer, but lamented that no one saw me that way. He advised, “Just keep telling people you’re a writer. Eventually, someone who hasn’t seen your work will take a chance on you.”
There it was, my mother’s wisdom echoed in the halls of a prominent network.
Of course, it wasn’t enough for my mom’s words to resonate with me; it took an endorsement from someone else to validate them—like the time she suggested using an ice cream scoop for muffin batter, which I dismissed until a celebrity chef echoed her advice. “Didn’t I tell you that years ago?” I can almost hear her say, wishing to have that moment back.
That friend’s advice was spot on, and so was my mom’s. Soon after embracing the identity of a writer, I landed my first two paying gigs, from people who had never seen my work before. “Isn’t Lauren a writer?” Absolutely!
Take my mother’s lesson to heart: refrain from calling yourself ugly, stupid, or clumsy. Avoid making jokes about your shortcomings, especially around those who don’t know you well. Instead, without veering into arrogance, share your strengths and aspirations. People will forget who said it and may give you the opportunity to pursue what you love. Also, remember not to wait for a celebrity to validate your mother’s wisdom.
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