Anti-Motivation for Beginners: How to Start When You're Uninspired

Do you ever scroll for inspiration while dodging your to-do list? Today I'm unpacking what we get wrong about motivation and what actually moves the needle.

3, 2, 1. Let's go. Welcome to Transition Space, your gateway from thinking to doing. I'm Mia Torr. If you're called to create meaningful work, use this podcast as part of your starting ritual. Make your coffee and clear your desk while you listen, and we'll hang out as you ease into focused flow. While you create your space, I'll help you entertain the transition. Come on in.

Today on Transition Space, a story about newborns, forest ecology textbooks, and why motivation is completely overrated.

Back in my curriculum design days, I was the school programs manager for an ecology society on the west coast of British Columbia. I had spent hundreds of hours revising and editing a giant teacher's manual on forest ecology. The previous edition had needed a lot of love, and so I was in my happy place, researching, rewriting, designing, and shaping something truly meaningful.

And then I went on maternity leave.

My firstborn son, Gabriel, arrived, and I fell in love in the most cellular, life-altering way. I forgot everything about tree canopy structures and nutrient cycles. Instead, I just spent hours staring at my baby. I remember getting the worst kink in my neck from being so mesmerized by the rise and fall of his breath as he slept in my arms.

And then one day, the Ecology Society called. Very polite, very kind, and also a little desperate. Yes, they knew I was on leave, and yes, oh, how is the baby? But could I maybe finish the manual? They really needed it.

They asked if it could be done in a month. I mumbled something like, yes, of course, no problem.

And after a little more cooing about the baby, we hung up, and I sat there blinking for a while. I told myself I would get to that manual as soon as I felt ready.

I kept waiting for that perfect second wind, that magical window where energy and inspiration would show up at the same time and carry me back to the keyboard.

I imagined some maternal glow would eventually turn into productivity. It didn't.

Days passed, and then a week, and then two. I was still checking my email, still thinking about this unfinished project, still saying not today.

I didn't want to be editing a textbook. I wanted to memorize the shape of my baby's fingers. I wanted to nap with him on my chest. But the dread of unanswered calls eventually outweighed my resistance, and I asked myself, how could I do both?

One tiny action at a time, I set up a little system, a nursing pillow. A one-handed typing arrangement. My sweet newborn curled up next to me. I kissed his tiny head every time I paused to think. And then I took a breath and opened the document.

That's it. I just opened it. It took me a little while to reorient myself to what I was seeing on the screen. I blinked and I poked around. I reread a section and it reminded me how good the work actually was. I was really close to being done because being in the space felt a little more engaging.

Now and then, I spotted a typo. Aha. I made one small edit. Then I fixed a line break. And then I noticed a hideous illustration that needed work. And I opened up Illustrator to create a new one. Within a week, Gabriel still nuzzled into my arms. I'd finished the entire thing.

Here is a fun fact that would have saved me a lot of internal flailing.

Researchers at the University of Chicago found that people who wait to feel motivated before taking action make 60% less progress toward their goals than the ones who just start with anything. A text, a list, a sh*tty first draft. It doesn't matter. You just have to move. The momentum comes next.

That's how motivation works. The people who succeed are the ones who move first. Everyone else is still waiting for the vibe to hit.

But nobody's selling that on Instagram, right? Because "take one small action and wait for motivation to catch up" doesn't look as good on a coffee mug as dream big, or hustle harder.

The multi-billion dollar motivation industry has us believing we need to feel ready, inspired and emotionally aligned before we can start. We're being sold emotional preparation as productivity.

Meanwhile, research from Harvard Business School shows that people who take immediate tiny actions even before feeling ready are 300% more likely to continue their projects than those who wait for the perfect emotional state.

Let me repeat that. 300% more likely to continue. Not 3%. 300%. Because they took action first and let motivation catch up.

Scientists call this the progress principle. The discovery that progress, even tiny progress, creates the positive emotions we think we need to feel first.

There was no inspiration in sight when I first resumed work on that forest manual. I only managed to get it done because I cracked open the document in the first place and corrected a typo with a sleeping baby on my lap. It did not feel like a heroic act. It felt small. But that one edit broke the seal, and the rest followed.

These days, when I find myself stuck, I think back to that moment. I remind myself that motivation doesn't create progress. Progress creates motivation.

That tiny action, opening your document, naming it something boring. Typing one sentence that creates more momentum than anything. Hours of emotional preparation.

The next time you're feeling stuck or aimless, remember that the smallest step can unlock your way back into flow. A single click, a half-thought of a sentence, a one-minute effort. That's where momentum lives. That tiny act is your turning point.

Start small, keep going, and before you know it, you'll achieve liftoff.

Whether you're making coffee or arranging your desk right now, ask yourself what's the smallest possible action you could take? What's your version of cracking open the document and kissing the baby's head while you work?

I'd love to hear your answer. Visit authenticnetworker.com/transitionspace and tell me, what's your tiniest step towards starting?

This is Transition Space, where you clear your path from thinking to doing. I'm Mia, and together we've shaped what's possible. Now it's your turn to make it real.