For a long time, the idea of writing a book lived quietly in the back of my mind.

Not because it felt like something I had to do, or even something I was sure I would ever do. It was more like an idea, a possibility. One that surfaced now and then, but that I didn’t feel like I had the time or space for. Life was full. Work was full. Parenting was full. And so the idea stayed there, loosely held, not acted on.

It showed up in little sentences during morning walks with my dog, Allie… fragments of thought about motherhood, ambition, identity, and the invisible work women are doing every day. And for a long time, that was enough. Or maybe more accurately, it was all I could make room for.

Part of the reason I didn’t push it forward was practical (working mom limits of time, energy, logistics).

But underneath that were quieter, more familiar fears:

What happens if I try and fail? What will people think of me? And am I actually saying anything new or important — or am I just repeating what’s already been said?

I hear versions of these questions all the time in my work with clients.

Women who come in wanting to write a book, or start something new, or step into a bigger role… and who quickly follow that desire with reasons it feels unrealistic, premature, or risky. Often, they assume that change requires a big, bold, audacious leap. Something visible. Something decisive. Something that proves they’re serious.

But that’s not how most meaningful transitions actually happen.

For me, this book didn’t begin with certainty or confidence. It began with movement. One foot in front of the other. One sentence bubbling up at a time. Sometimes literally one sentence typed in the car while waiting for camp pickup. Sometimes a paragraph written in a crowded waiting room. Small steps that didn’t look impressive from the outside, but mattered deeply on the inside.

That pattern of quiet movement before clarity is something I see again and again with clients, too.

Transition doesn’t require a dramatic leap. It requires forward motion. Often very small forward motion.

(I’ve shared more of the longer, messier version of how this book came together including the doubts, the rejections, and the slow build in a new space I’ve started on Substack, if you’re curious about the behind-the-scenes story and want to subscribe over there!)

What the research tells us

Psychology helps explain why this approach works.

1. Small steps build belief (self-efficacy)​
​Research on self-efficacy shows that confidence doesn’t come from waiting until we feel ready or certain. It grows through mastery experiences: small, achievable actions that build a sense of capability over time. We don’t believe we can do something and then act; we act in small ways, and belief follows.

2. Motivation is sustained by internal alignment (self-determination)​
​Self-Determination Theory shows that motivation is strongest when it’s driven by autonomy and meaning, i.e. when we take action because something matters to us, not because of external pressure or validation. Small, self-chosen steps often sustain effort far better than big, externally motivated moves.
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Together, this research helps explain why waiting for certainty often keeps us stuck, and why progress, not confidence, is what actually moves us forward.

A gentle practice for this week

If you’re holding an idea that feels too big, too risky, or too far away right now, try this:

1. Name it as a possibility, not a commitment.
   ​“Something I’m curious about is…”
2. Ask yourself: What is the smallest, least dramatic step I could take toward this?
   ​Not the public step. Not the irreversible one.
3. Take that step this week.

You don’t need a leap. You don’t need a five-year plan. You just need to keep moving.

A quick note:
​As I mentioned above, I’m experimenting with writing in two places right now. This newsletter will continue to be where I share reflections, research, and practical tools. On Substack, I’m writing more personally- about the book process, the creative work behind the scenes, and ideas that don’t always fit neatly into a newsletter format. If you’d like to follow along or join the conversation there, I’d love to have you!

As always, it’s an honor to take up just a little space in your week- and let me know if I can support your next small step, or your big dream.

Talk soon,

Anne

P.S. These steps are always much easier to take with support- I’d love to have you join us in the next cohort of Ambitious Mothers Mastermind. I’m enrolling now for the March cohort. If you are curious, reply to this email or fill out an interest form, and we can see together whether now is the right time.