The 3-Day Rule: Navigating Critique and Marketing Ideas

The world is full of unspoken rules, like the infamous 5-second rule, or the golden rule that we were taught as children. But let's add another one to the list - the 3-day rule. This rule applies to situations when we receive tough criticism or are presented with a new marketing idea, like the one suggested by your dentist.

For example: I poured my heart and soul into a story I had written. I revised it over and over again until I felt it was perfect. But then, someone I respected told me that the story didn't truly begin until page 7. Initially, I was crushed, as I loved my opening. However, after waiting 3 days and reflecting on their feedback, I eventually realized that they were right.

On another occasion, I shared my latest book with my dentist and she asked why I wasn't utilizing Instagram for marketing. My response was that Instagram doesn't typically sell books; it is more focused on showcasing physical beauty. Yet, she showed me her own Instagram account with over 5K followers and strongly disagreed with me. Once again, I waited 3 days before deciding that maybe she was onto something - her page was filled with beautiful smiles, which made sense for her profession.

My point is that time cannot be rushed. It's impossible to speed up its passing. Sometimes, it's best to take a step back and allow yourself a few days to process and reflect before making any decisions or judgments. The 3-day rule may just save us from making hasty and potentially incorrect choices.

And now a fiction break:

The Patient

Dr. Anderson slams her notepad shut, gulping down the remaining wine in her glass as she aggressively runs a hand through her hair. Her thoughts are drawn to the book of matches on her desk, and she begins to unconsciously thumb through them. They were from Le Petite Café, where Herbert used to take her on special occasions. A wave of nostalgia washes over her as she recalls the lovely French couple who owned the restaurant and would let them into their herb garden in the back by the parking lot. A place where they could enjoy a cigarette after dinner with their demitasse.

But her mind quickly returns to her patient, Sally, a 63-year-old widow who lost her husband to emphysema sixteen months ago and had to euthanize her beloved feline just last week. Dr. Anderson's notes about Sally reveal a high level of rage simmering beneath the surface, evident in her body language during sessions. In one instance, while calmly recounting a childhood incident where her violent father slashed her teddy bear with a kitchen knife, Sally couldn't help but pick furiously at an imaginary scab on her elbow until blood began to run down and stain her dress. The sudden hostility towards herself was alarming.

As Dr. Anderson gazes at the bloodstain on the chair, she pours the rest of the bottle of wine into her empty glass before walking over to touch the stain with trembling fingers. A shudder runs through her body as she turns over the cushion to conceal it. She absentmindedly touches her elbow, feeling a sympathetic sting.

She forces herself back to her desk, determined to focus on her notes. Opening the book of matches from Le Petite Café, she raises them to her nose and inhales deeply, taking comfort in the strong smell of sulfur that grounds her. But the memories of Herbert and their past life together continue to haunt her, and she longs for his presence. But she pushes those thoughts away, reminding herself that she is a grown woman with responsibilities. She needs to get back to her notes, no matter how much it pains her.

“Sally's eyes gleamed with a twisted fascination,” she wrote, “as she confessed to setting her parents' money on fire just for the pleasure of watching it burn.” Dr. Anderson, feeling a sense of unease, reached behind her for another bottle of wine from her cabinet, opened it, and poured another glass. The photo on her wall of an infant crying only added to the creeping feeling of dread that filled the room.

As she continued writing her notes, Dr. Anderson couldn't shake off a feeling of deep disturbance. Her pen ran out of ink and she reached for another one, noticing the heart-shaped tag she had placed in her drawer after her beloved pet's passing. She knocked back another glass of wine, the buzzing in her head growing louder.

Fingering the matches on her desk, Dr. Anderson's vision blurred as she tried to focus on her medical diploma. She suddenly felt a strong urge to set something on fire. Without thinking, she lit a match and dropped it onto her notepad, watching as the pages caught fire. Several embers fell to the floor and ignited the carpet.

“Sally” sat calmly in the corner, observing with a small smile as the office went up in flames. As the smoke filled the room, she walked out without a second thought, ignoring the sign warning against using the elevator in case of fire.

Dr. Anderson's mind was consumed by thoughts of burning everything down as she rode down the elevator with “Sally.” The flames only fueled her desire for destruction and chaos.