I pulled into the gardening center expecting to be greeted with champagne but it never came.

It was my big day. My first solo assignment of loading and delivering a truck-bed full of mulch to a client. For the weeks prior, I’d spent countless hours learning how to operate what’s known in certain circles as an “earth moving” tractor to effectively move big things.

The boss’s right-hand man called me delicate pretty regularly.

I didn’t really fight that. He drank a lot. But he wasn’t far off. At the age of 16, I wasn’t exactly the handiest of young men. I’d put at least a half-dozen dents in the side of the company truck while practicing learning how to effectively move big things.

“I’m gonna show them!” I said to myself. “I’m gonna prove them wrong!” And to my surprise, that fateful morning, I’d actually gotten things right. I handled the gear shifts with ease. My once bumpy technique fell into a smooth rhythm. Even with prying eyes burning into me, I moved a pile of mulch from tractor to truck 19 times without making a single mistake. The delivery went equally well. The ton of mulch I’d dumped landed perfectly in the center of the client’s driveway.

Coolio was on the radio on the drive back. I turned it up. It had indeed been a fantastic voyage. My boss and his buddy Captain Overalls could kiss my ass.

The two men were waiting for me when I got back. Standing out in front of the shop sporting stern faces with their arms crossed.

“What’s up?” I asked as I pulled in expecting their hard facades to eventually crumble into heartfelt smiles.

“Son, I don’t know what grade you’re in,” my boss said while tossing a shovel into the bed of the truck showing zero signs of lightning up. “But I was under the impression you could at least read!”

All the work I’d done.

All the time I’d spent getting my hands dirty.

All the hours I’d put in learning how to operate heavy machinery.

I’d come a long way since I’d begun working there. I’d gotten somewhat decent at my job. But none of that mattered as on my drive back the clients had called wondering why in the hell I’d dumped their mulch in their neighbor's driveway.

“Delicate” would have been considered a great compliment compared to the plethora of adjectives Captain Overalls called me the rest of the day.

He didn’t let up for a second as he oversaw me shoveling pile after pile of mulch from one driveway to the other in my feeble attempt to effectively move big things.

Don’t botch the end game by skimping on location

I was talking to a friend at the beginning of the year. She’s not in the mulch moving business. But as someone with dreams of being a widely-read writer, she too is trying to move big things.

She’s put in the work.

Her voice is strong.

Her lessons are unique.

“What am I missing?” she asked frustrated her stories weren’t spreading and equally frustrated when seeing stories from other people that were. “I’ve seen what’s hot and most of it’s not!”

I read through her work. She wasn’t lying. It was good. Better than most. “It’s not you!” I concluded. “Your work is tight. You’re just dumping your load in the wrong place!”

Despite not getting any traction on the platform she had her heart set on making a home, today her thoughts have been featured in over a dozen mainstream business publications and she’s landed a potential book deal.

Same person.

Same work.

Widely different results.

This may sound like luck. But my friend isn’t the only person I know who this has happened to. In fact, it happens a lot. A creator gets down on themselves. They begin to think they aren’t good enough. They begin to think they’ll never break through the noise. But instead of constantly questioning what they are doing they set aside some time to think about where they should be doing it and their work grows new legs.

Despite the recent string of dark days, we live in a bright time. Just a few years ago, we had to search long and hard for one door to knock on and hold our breath while the gatekeepers discussed whether or not they’d let us in. Today, however, not only are new potential eyes a few clicks away but new doors are being made for us every day.

This doesn’t mean changing your “where” will immediately turn your work from red to green. It could be you’re not good enough yet. It could be you need to practice a little longer.

But maybe you are doing everything right.

Maybe your work is already tight.

Maybe the only thing holding you back from effectively moving big things is tinkering with finding the right location to house your creations.