Steal my one-question test for whether something's worth celebrating

My third book (Time Wise) came out in 2022. I wrote it during a pandemic, in between homeschooling a seven-year-old, going through a divorce, running Inventium, and trying not to lose my mind entirely. The book writing and editing process consumed over a year of my life (not to mention several additional years for research). And when Time Wise came out, I did... nothing. No event. No dinner. No acknowledgement at all, really.

I told myself I was busy. I also told myself: Don’t be so indulgent. It’s just a book.

I’d done the exact same thing with the two books before it.

There was one exception. For book #4, The Health Habit, I organised a dinner party and invited ten friends over. I cooked (or more accurately, my husband cooked). It was a brilliant and memorable night. And at the time, I remember thinking: why didn’t I do this for the others?

That thought lasted about a week. Then I went back to being too busy.

But when I was writing The Energy Game (my fifth book, and definitely the hardest one of the pack to write) I remembered the feeling I had at The Health Habit dinner party. And I made a promise to myself: when this book comes out, I am going to celebrate it properly. Not just a dinner. But a proper book launch. (Maybe even two).

And I stuck to that promise…

When it comes to celebrations, I am pretty good at estimating how much effort it will take. The answer is generally: A LOT. Coordinating schedules, sending invites, cleaning, designing, cooking and the whole mental load between setting a date and the actual date.

But I am woeful at estimating how good celebrations feel.

Last year I had a birthday dinner. It was, without exaggeration, one of the most meaningful and memorable nights of my entire year. A room full of people I love, gathered for no other reason than to mark the fact that I am getting older). I think about years where I let my birthday pass without doing anything, and the contrast is stark.

Celebrations (mostly) involve people. And something I have learnt about myself is that I am (very) scared of rejection. If I invite people, will they come? What if no one shows up? What if people have other things on? I know this fear is mostly irrational. I know my friends love me. And for work events, I know that people have been genuinely impacted by my work, enough to want to come to something I am hosting. But I still experience that nagging thought: am I worth people’s Saturday night?

And then I default to doing nothing. Which feels safer.

So these days, I’ve started using a single question as my decision filter:

Will I regret not doing this?

Not “is this worth the effort?” Not “will anyone come?” Just: if I skip this, will I look back and wish I hadn’t?

A couple of other questions that help:

What’s the smallest version of this celebration that would still feel like a proper marker?

Celebrations don’t have to be elaborate. A dinner for three counts. A walk with a close friend: also counts. The point is stopping to acknowledge that something happened that mattered.

Who do I want to remember this with?

Life is strange and uncertain and shorter than we plan for. The people who matter to you won’t always be around. You won’t always be around. So who do you want in the room when you mark it?

I don’t know anyone who has looked back on a celebration and thought: well that was a total waste of time.

But I know plenty who have looked back on something they worked hard for and thought: I should have done something.

I was one of those people. Three times.

Not again.