I Didn’t Lack Effort. I Lacked Ownership.

Rethinking what “giving it your all” really means

In the arts & entertainment business, we talk a lot about effort. About grinding, pushing, and giving it your all. And when things don’t land by a certain age, the assumption is that you didn’t do enough, or you did it wrong, or both.

So what do I do when I’m pondering such big thoughts? I find something to distract myself! My wondering mind went down a Mark Ruffalo rabbit hole after I recently watched his great performance in the series Task (HBO Max). I found an old interview from 2014. He talked about doing over 600 auditions before anything hit. Even after all that “trying,” he admitted something deeper: he still hadn’t really given it his all.

Well, shit, that felt uncomfortably familiar. My work isn’t a series of auditions like an actor, but if I were to compare it and all the attempts to create something, to pitch, to sell, and work really hard on something that didn’t work out in the end, I could see the parallels. Never a lack of trying, but plenty of detours, flawed mindsets, and moments where I let myself off the hook.

Looking back, in my 20s, I was building a kids’ birthday party business in New York City. Scrappy, vibrant, chaotic. I learned how to hustle and sell. How to walk into any room and make it work.

In my 30s, I leaned into work with incredibly talented artists and collaborators. I also built deep relationships with the arts leaders and producers. It was a decade of real investment, but also a lot of energy wasted proving I belonged.

Then 40 arrived, and I started to see what I had outgrown: the friendships that no longer fit, the things I shaped my identity around that no longer aligned, and work built from fear rather than vision. I didn’t lack effort. I lacked ownership.

I stayed busy. I stayed useful. I stayed in motion. But I wasn’t always deciding what I was building. I was responding. I was accommodating. I was letting momentum stand in for intention.

Giving it your all isn’t about more hours or more grit. It’s about responsibility. It’s about deciding what deserves your energy and what no longer gets it. It’s about building something you’re willing to be accountable for, even when it’s uncomfortable.

That’s the shift I’m in now. Fewer reactions. Fewer distractions. More ownership. Not louder effort, but cleaner intention. That’s what giving it my all means to me now.

A sunset, a pause, and a little more ownership than I had before. (Clearwater Beach, Dec 2025)