The Comparison Trap

Read time: 4 minutes

Welcome to The Ascend Archives, a weekly newsletter where I share a story about a transformation, revelation, or change in thinking that has improved an aspect of my life.

I was six weeks into a focused sales push for my ghostwriting business—and I hadn’t landed a single new client.

Then, mid-doom scroll on Facebook, I saw it.

A post from Mike—a ghostwriter I’d spoken to a year ago—blowing up with likes and comments. Dozens of people I knew were chiming in, booking calls, hyping him up. And I just sat there, staring at the screen, heart sinking.

I wasn’t mad at him.

I was disappointed in myself.

Mike had reintroduced himself to our entrepreneurship group after years of silence. But now he had 15,000+ followers on LinkedIn, hundreds of likes and comments on every post, and a six-figure ghostwriting agency. He casually dropped that update like it was no big deal.

Meanwhile, my posts on LinkedIn got twelve likes on a good day. I didn’t have an audience. I was struggling to close a single new client.

And now it felt like the pool of people I’d been quietly trying to reach—this group I’d been part of, showing up in, contributing to—were all signing up to talk to him.

My mind spiraled: 

Why didn’t I make a post like that?
Why is this so easy for him?
What am I doing wrong?

I couldn’t stop comparing.

Flashback to a year earlier: February 2024. I had just landed my first ghostwriting client and shared the win in that same Facebook group. Mike, though not active, saw my post and offered to chat.

He was a copywriter with 10+ years of experience, just starting to take ghostwriting seriously. We talked shop—offer positioning, sales process, writing flow. He gave me real, tactical advice.

Then he went all in.

He posted on LinkedIn every day. He lived in the comments section. He streamlined his writing process using AI. He started hiring writers. He built systems. He built momentum.

And me?

I was exploring. I tried fractional operations work for creators. I trained for an Ironman 70.3. I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro. I focused on my relationships and building a strong community in Austin. I wasn’t standing still—I just wasn’t sprinting in one direction.

But in that Facebook moment, none of that context mattered. I was stuck on the scoreboard. I saw Mike’s numbers—audience size, revenue, engagement—and felt like I was falling behind.

Then something shifted.

I asked myself: Did I take the actions that lead to a $250k+/year ghostwriting business?

The honest answer was no.

And even more important—do I even want that business?

Mike spends hours on social media each day. He runs an agency. He works with real estate investors and small business owners.

I hate social media. I love deep, long-form storytelling—essays, books, founder-led newsletters. I want to work with startup founders who are making a meaningful impact. I’m not trying to build an agency. I’m trying to build a life.

That’s when it hit me:

We weren’t even playing the same game.

A few months ago, my business coach Barrett helped me define a simple phrase—a “coaching commitment”—to guide my decisions:

“I am committed to doing work I love with people I love.”

That one line has saved me from so many moments like this getting out of control. It’s my filter. My north star.

Mike’s work is not work I love with people I love. So when I saw that post, I could have just said, “Good for him,” and moved on with my day. Kept building toward my own vision.

After having this realization, I’ve regained clarity on the game I’m playing and everything feels lighter. The path is still hard—but it’s mine.

And the win I want most?

To find one business I deeply align with.
To build something meaningful with partners I trust.
To use writing and my operational skillset to make a lasting, positive impact.

That’s the game I’m here to play.

Thank you for reading! As always please reply and let me know what resonated, what didn’t, or what you question. I love chatting about this stuff!

Cheers,

Andrew