Hot potato promotion

- Oct 17, 2025

I'm not a lover of promoting my own work. From experience, I'd say few people are. Many of my clients, or people I meet in my workshops, will say: 'Oh I hate selling myself'. Well, technically we're not selling ourselves when we talk about self-promotion—though I'd love to tell you I feel differently about this. I don't. But I do love telling stories. So here's mine about my recent struggle with this exact challenge.

In the middle of January gloom, I found myself online for a peer coaching call for Tara Mohr's Playing Big facilitator training. I'm an alumna of the programme and was returning to the work to refresh my memory—not just for myself but for my clients' benefit.

The Zoom fairies ushered me into a room with a lovely woman. Mid-length hair, nice voice, an open expression moving across her features as we exchanged soft hellos. She appeared to be joining from a stunning mountain-style cabin with high wooden ceilings and giant glass panes that offered more than a glimpse of the imposing trees outside, leaves golden, bathed in the morning sun.

Despite being far away from each other (she in California, me in Switzerland), we were surprised by the strong echo between our lives: ex-corporate executives in the fashion and retail industry, both nurturing creative writing projects, trained coaches, Tara Mohr alumnae—all of it a big departure from our earlier careers.

Within three minutes, we moved into the practice coaching, where we were to get help with a specific area of our current personal 'Playing Big' challenges. Generally, with two trained coaches in a Zoom room guiding each other, things move fast.

I'll stick to telling you about my own experience here.

My issue at that time was around pitching a story to a new outlet. It's hard enough publishing a newsletter—pressing the send button always gives me shivers—but the job of having to convince someone of the merit of my idea (and persuade them to let me write for them) is immensely more challenging.

That evening, Libby and I noticed that we spoke to each other with more than our words. Our hands were flying around the space. As she gently probed me with carefully chosen questions to guide me through my pitching nerves, it was my body, rather than my brain, that brought me to a breakthrough.

The wave of nervousness that engulfs me when I venture outside my comfort zone transforms what is generally an engaging process (exploring ideas, writing until I get to the right words, editing for clarity and impact) into a fearful fit.

I described how, as I worked my way towards this new goal, I began to treat my computer's keyboard as if its keys had been replaced by hot coals. My fingers would run at furious speed as if at any second my monitor would swallow me whole. My breathing shallow (unless I stopped breathing altogether), until the dreaded moment when I pressed send.

AAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!

My whole body jumps back in my chair, then a momentary recoil. Just as if I'd escaped a bear attack.

As I put words to this rollercoaster email-delivery production, Libby gazed kindly at me. I felt bathed in a warm, inviting silence, making space for the experience.

The metaphor of a hot potato came to mind. The closer I get to sharing something meaningful to me, the more nervous I get, and the more I feel the need to throw the email/pitch/hot potato out and away from me.

My hands gesticulated in front of the screen. Hot hot hot! Pretend-juggling with a burning hot spud, then tossing it into the digital realm. My face broke into a huge smile, I burst into fits of laughter, the energy shift more than palpable.

Once the behaviour was made visible, we explored together what a new way to handle a similar situation could be. Moving from 'throwing out into the ether'—could I instead honour the offering?

'It's a gift' I heard myself say. 'It's a gift, from my heart to theirs.'

My hands cupped together, and as I spoke, trying to find the right words, my arms motioned towards the screen. Having worked with a somatic experiencing therapist for a few months, I saw why this movement was laden with meaning. I repeated the action, feeling into its significance.

My work is an offering.

But in my 'playing bigger', the fearful state I was in was ruling how I was handling its release into the world, as a hot potato, of all things.

Libby asked:

'What would be a way that you can remind yourself of how you want to honour the work?'

Ah. My mind jumped to an illustration that my designer, the illustrator Miki Lowe, had drawn up a few weeks before. A sign! A pair of cupped hands holding a lotus flower in a devotional gesture, reminiscent of the word 'offering' I'd just mentioned. The perfect symbol my body had been reaching for by itself.

I felt my face stretching into a huge grin, cheeks hot with excitement. 'Yes!'

I thanked Libby profusely. Our time was up, our Zoom room closing down, and we hastily exchanged emails. I speak for both of us when I say we wanted to continue our conversation.

This year, I cooked up a big career and business pivot. And this autumn, as I start serving it up—rolling out new projects beyond my regular one-on-one work, think workshops and masterclasses by other coaches and teachers (including Libby's!)—I find myself in non-stop promotion land.

You'd think a near lifetime as PR & head of communications would have prepared me for this. Well, only kind of.

Treacherously, it feels like self-promotion because all of the work takes place under the banner of Le Trente, which I have erected and am by default—until further hire—responsible for.

While my motivation runs deep (I love this work), last week I couldn't escape noticing my own behaviour while building posts to share about the upcoming programmes. In slow-motion déjà vu style, I realised that I was again in full hot-potato-promotion mode.

Thankfully (prayer hands), in a flash, my memory took me back to my time being coached by Libby. It all came back: the hot potato, the cupped hands, the lotus illustration, the offering.

There is a better way for me (maybe for you too) if I ground myself in the inherent value I see in the work, and if I allow myself to connect to my deepest intention. Only when I'm aware of how this matters to me can I truly honour it.

I'm trying to consciously rewire my fearful brain. If I only ever treat promotion as a chore, it stays charged with anxiety. But if I treat it as an opportunity to connect—to myself, to the work, to the people who want to hear about it—it becomes something precious, another experience altogether.

My ritual framework:

- Create atmosphere: candle (strategically placed away from curious cat whiskers) or incense
- Soundtrack: something that reminds me why I love this work
- Physical space: clear desk, clear head (neuroaesthetics isn't just trendy—it works)
- Mental space: draft my week with generous intention at the fore
- The moment: press send with the lotus image held in my mind's hands
- The release: let it go with love

Speaking of releasing work with love and intention, here are two offerings I'm genuinely excited to share—because they address exactly what we've been exploring here:

Transition & Moving Through with Libby Stockstill Friday, 25 October · 2-hour workshop

Since that transformative coaching call, Libby and I have become good friends. She's bringing her wisdom to Le Trente with a workshop designed for exactly those moments when pursuing our dreams wakes our ghosts and stirs the storm clouds. Using the powerful imagery of nature, she offers tools for working with fear and insecurity, tapping into confidence, and stepping into your Some Day. ​Register for 25 October →​

Dream into Being Tuesday, 29 October · 2-hour in-person workshop in Geneva

After a lovely online session last month, we're offering an in-person date. This isn't your typical goal-setting workshop—it starts with your body's wisdom, not your mind's pressure. Through guided meditation and body scans, you'll access your most creative, intuitive state before exploring what you truly want. Learn the art of dreamscaping and set goals that align with your authentic desires (not what you think you should want). [Register for 29 October →]

The Intention Hour Wednesday, 30 October (and every month after)

Your monthly reset to reconnect with what matters, set intentions that feel alive—not obligatory—and stay in motion towards your meaningful projects. This is the ongoing practice, the regular touchpoint that keeps you from getting caught in the wheels of life. ​Register for 30 October →​

The work now is allowed to have a life of its own. It deserves to be released intentionally, so that it can find the people it needs to find.

Deep bow to all of us who generate good work and have trouble putting it out into the world. Let's find the rituals, remember the intention, and release what needs to be released.

P.S. Reminder to self: print the lotus flower illustration, frame it, and put it above your desk. All the reminders matter when we work with fear.

P.P.S. If you're curious to hear more from Libby, she was my guest on The Mettā Interview podcast, where we explored the question 'How do we make the world better?' From her enchanted home in Idyllwild, she shares wisdom about navigating overwhelming global challenges by focusing on 'shining your light' rather than getting paralysed by the bigness of our dreams. [Listen here →]