From January through to June this year, I was part of a mastermind group for solopreneurs.
Every other week, in a group of three to five people, we would gather on Zoom for an hour. In that hour, we each had seven minutes to present. To talk about whether we achieved our goal for the fortnight and next steps before our upcoming sessions. In addition to those two points, we could choose to talk about our “wins,” “losses,” “lessons learned,” and anything else for that matter—as long as we were respectful of time. The more we talked in our slot, the less time we would get to hear feedback from other participants in the group.
What this taught me was that in those seven minutes, I could talk about all that went wrong, or I could talk about all that went right. I could talk about things beyond my control, or I could talk about things I could actually control. I could talk and defend, or I could choose to ask for help and listen.
The same concept applies for a postcard and its spatial limitations.
A postcard, carefully chosen from a gift shop or art stance, because the image reminded you of the person, or it’s a photo the recipient would appreciate, or perhaps it’s a free postcard handed out at an event space.
Take out margin space, stamp space and address space, and you’re left with not very much to write on.
So, with the limited space, what will you choose to say?
How will you use the space?
Will you shrink your handwriting to get the biggest bang for your buck?
Will you choose to express your distress and deepest frustrations?
Will you paint your words in broad brush strokes?
