Basecamp’s Dan Kim shares “the single best way to improve your writing” here. From emails, to website copy, to college essays, I can’t think of a piece of writing where the advice doesn’t apply.

I enjoyed Phil Knight’s Shoe Dog: A Memoir by the Creator of Nike. But to me, something about one early passage in particular just didn’t sit right. In 1962 when Knight was first getting the tiny company off the ground, he recalls having this realization while on a run:

“So that morning in 1962 I told myself: Let everyone else call your idea [about starting a shoe company] crazy… just keep going. Don’t stop. Don’t even think about stopping until you get there, and don’t give much thought to where ‘there’ is. Whatever comes, just don’t stop. That’s the precocious, prescient, urgent advice I managed to give myself, out of the blue, and somehow managed to take. Half a century later, I believe it’s the best advice—maybe the only advice—any of us should ever give.”

And he kept coming back to that theme repeatedly, pointing to it as the guiding principle, the secret to his success.

We’ve all heard the mantra, “Never give up.” We’re taught not to be quitters, that sheer determination is what separates the people who achieve their goals and those who get left behind.

But here’s the thing that became clear as Knight recounted his story: Nike was successful in large part because Knight was willing to stop.

He stopped working a job as an accountant. Twice.

He stopped working as a professor at Portland State University.

In fact, Knight originally started his shoe company as the American distributor of Tiger brand running shoes manufactured in Japan. The Nike that we all know today only exists because Knight stopped selling the Tiger shoes and began manufacturing his own.

When you’re almost 80 years old, as Knight is, and you look back over your proudest and most significant accomplishments, from entrepreneurship to marriage, you’ll inevitably see a refusal to give up when things were difficult as an important ingredient in the success.

But achieving those milestones will mean letting go of other things that ultimately prove to mean less. Knight was focused, driven, and committed to the work that mattered the most. But he was also a quitter. A smart, tactical quitter. And it helped him and Nike get where they are today.

That’s what kept nagging at me with each passing chapter.

Then, in the final pages of the book, as Knight looks back and ponders the unlikely story of his “crazy idea” growing into Nike, a tale with all the successes enjoyed and the failures overcome, he reflects:

“And those who urge entrepreneurs to never give up? Charlatans. Sometimes you have to give up. Sometimes knowing when to give up, when to try something else, is genius. Giving up doesn’t mean stopping. Don’t ever stop.”

There it is. It’s not necessarily wrong to stop one thing. Sometimes stopping something is the key to succeeding in something else. Just don’t stop permanently.

“Just do it” was a great Nike slogan. But it turns out that “Just stop doing it” can be a pretty effective strategy, too.

Here are a few past posts, here and here, for high school students on the potential value of quitting. And a final one to make sure that you don’t end up punishing the people staying behind when you decide to move on.

In this interview with Wharton Business School professor Adam Grant, Mark Cuban, entrepreneur, owner of the Dallas Mavericks, and Shark, demonstrated how to pitch a product. But what stuck with me (which I suppose makes it a good pitch) was this:

“Whatever text you send tonight or any day, whatever email you send tonight or any day, the minute you hit ‘Send,’ you no longer own that message. But you are still completely responsible for it for the rest of your life. How scary is that?”

I’ve never used the app that he’s pitching and this post isn’t an endorsement—it’s a reminder. That email, that text, that photo, etc.? You may feel perfectly comfortable sending it today. But remember that you might also have to answer for it tomorrow. So send—or don’t send—accordingly.

It’s difficult to dramatically improve your college admissibility in one day. But there are roughly 180 days of school in an academic year. What if you committed to doing one simple but effective thing each one of those days? By the end of the year, you’ll have a lot to show for your daily small efforts.

Here are a few suggestions.

• Send a personal thank you email to your counselor, teacher, tutor, friend, parent, or anyone else who helped you when you needed it.
• Commit to turning off (and tuning out) all distractions for at least one hour of focused studying or homework.
• Teach someone how to do something.
• Be nice to a fellow student people usually aren’t so nice to.
• Congratulate, encourage, or otherwise acknowledge someone at your school who deserves it.
• Help a local charity or non-profit.
• Take responsibility for something that will impact one of your activities.
• Learn about a college that you aren’t currently familiar with.
• Go the extra mile in one class even if no extra credit policy exists.
• Cut out all the time wasting during the day and reallocate it to an extra hour or two of sleep that night.
• Abstain from the gossip and other high school drama that makes life harder than it needs to be.
• Take 30 minutes and write down as many ideas as you can about how to do more of what you really enjoy and are good at.
• Write a blog post about a topic that you care about.

Don’t try to do them all on one day. One per day is all it takes to make a difference.

PricewaterhouseCoopers partner Brian Cullinan is having a rough week. One of two accountants entrusted with overseeing the ballot process at the Oscars, he’s been identified as the man responsible for handing the wrong envelope to the best picture presenters, Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway, which led to the now infamous Oscar debacle for the ages.

As if the mistake itself wasn’t bad enough, Cullinan’s Twitter account revealed that he was tweeting photos of the event just moments before the grand gaffe. As described in this Washington Post article:

“He [Cullinan] acknowledged both the simplicity and paramount importance of his role during the show itself: ‘It doesn’t sound very complicated,’ Cullinan said, ‘but you have to make sure you’re giving the presenter the right envelope.’ But that obviously didn’t happen, and some swiftly suggested that Cullinan’s attention wasn’t solely focused on the task at hand: Just moments before he handed the wrong envelope to Beatty, Cullinan tweeted a photo of best actress winner Emma Stone clutching her statuette backstage. The tweet has since been deleted, and PricewaterhouseCoopers has not commented on Cullinan’s social media use.”

We’ve all experienced the regret that can come when you don’t have (or won’t allow yourself to have) immediate access to your phone. You might miss a great photo opportunity. You might miss a text. You might even miss a call you really needed to take. It’s understandable why so many of us, not just teenagers, can be reluctant to redirect our attention from the phone in our hand to the world in our view. Nobody likes missing out.

But the regret of “I wish I hadn’t been so focused on my phone” can be so much worse. If you’re doing work that matters to you, if you’re having an important conversation, if you’re reading or studying or especially if you’re driving, the effect of diverting your attention can harm your work, your relationships, and in the most severe cases, your life.

How much do you think Brian Cullinan regrets using his phone in that vital moment? How much better would his life be this week if he had just focused on the important, live-televised task at hand? Was that tweet worth the lifetime association his name will carry with the biggest mistake in Oscar history (Google will never forget even when the rest of us have long since moved on)?

The next time you divert your attention away from something important to focus on your phone, stop and ask yourself if it’s worth the risk. And more importantly, can you live with the regret if things go wrong?

You might already have some vision for what you want to learn, do, or experience during or after college:

• Become an engineer
• Be a doctor
• Dive into classic literature
• Become a titan of technology or another industry
• Create positive change in politics
• Help those who need it the most
• Teach kids
• Express yourself with your art or music or dance
• Discover your underlying talents and passions
• Learn more about Eastern European history or math or philosophy

Whatever your vision is, consider what steps you can take now to start down that path.

There are plenty of books, YouTube videos, cheap in-person or online classes, internships, volunteer opportunities, apprenticeships, and other ways to get a taste of whatever interests you. And while I don’t think teenagers should be in a hurry to grow up (you’re only a teenager once, after all), initiative and curiosity are an appealing pair to colleges. Admissions officers know that the student who has not only the desire to learn and experience new things, but also the initiative to seek out and find opportunities to scratch those itches, is more likely to be successful in college.

You don’t have to become an engineer, perform surgery, or take your first company public to impress colleges (if you knew everything you need to know to achieve all your dreams, what would you need college for?). But the sooner you take your first steps, the closer you’ll be to your goal. And the sooner you’ll realize whether or not you’re stepping in the right direction.

Every Friday, I send out a lighthearted question to all of our Collegewise colleagues. Dubbed Friday Fun, answering these questions is completely optional, and our responses are shared with everyone in the company. Our offices are spread out all over the country (and one office internationally), so we don’t all get to interact face-to-face very often. But along with all the banter that inevitably ensues, questions like What was your first job? What’s your favorite family tradition? and Do you have any hobbies? help us get to know each other better and bond over things that have absolutely nothing to do with getting into college.

Last week’s question–What’s your guilty pleasure?–reminded me just how likeable and self-effacing our Collegewisers are. Here are a few of the responses.

I definitely like Demi Lovato and Selena Gomez songs more than a man my age probably should.

If it takes place in space and there are laser beams or photon torpedoes, you can count me in. I love sci-fi tv and movies. #noshame #trekkies4life

Chocolate. Any kind. But not with fruit; that’s just wrong.

It’s not unheard of for me to go through a two-pound block of cheddar in less than a week.

I’ll admit it. Watching The Bachelor, group texting about it, and eating directly from a bag of Costco-sized potato chips, all at the same time. I’m not ashamed.

We hire people at Collegewise with long track records of over-achieving. They’ve accomplished great things in school and at work. But that’s not what makes them so likeable. Their personalities, their confidence to be themselves, and their willingness to admit things like their guilty pleasures are what make people want to be around them. They’re not embarrassed. They’re not trying too hard. They are who they are, and they know that’s enough.

Future college applicants, take a page out of our counselors’ books.

Colleges need to know that you’re prepared to handle the rigors of college and that you’ll contribute both in the classroom and on the campus. So they’ll pay close attention to your transcript, test scores, activities, and letters of recommendation. Those are the parts of the application that tell colleges whether or not you’re qualified for admission.

But colleges are also asking themselves who you are and what it would be like for other students to live and learn with you for four years. That’s what the essay and the interview are for—to get a better sense of your personality and what makes you tick. To get into college, you need to be likeable. And the best way to be likeable is to just be yourself.

High school students feel a lot of pressure these days to outwork, out-achieve, and out-accomplish the competition. Those aren’t necessarily bad instincts as long as they don’t hurt your health or happiness. Hard work is the key to succeeding.

But you are not just a collection of grades, test scores, and accomplishments. You’re a real person, with your own story, personality, likes, dislikes, foibles, and yes, even guilty pleasures. Those are what make you who you are, the parts that are uniquely yours that no other applicant gets to claim. So embrace them. Be proud of them. And use them, when and where appropriate, to help colleges get to know the real you.

I’m not suggesting that your entire college application should focus on your love of science fiction, cheese, or reality television. But while you want colleges to be impressed with you, you also want them to like you. And nobody ever fell in like with a resume.

The good folks at Challenge Success recently released their white paper, The Advanced Placement Program: Living Up To Its Promise? It attempts to answer questions like, “Does taking AP courses inherently boost a student’s chances of college admissions?” (Spoiler alert: it depends on the college.)

For families who would rather not read and weed through all of the data, page 10’s “Suggestions for Students” has some good advice that might help you decide if AP courses are right for you, and if so, how many—and which particular courses—to take. And I appreciated their sensible, student-friendly advice like,

“Don’t take AP courses just to get into college. While many elite colleges will expect applicants to have enrolled in rigorous and challenging courses, particularly in subject areas of interest to the student, AP enrollment alone will not guarantee your college admission. Moreover, taking AP courses and doing poorly because you are taking them for the wrong reasons or are not interested in the subject or are in over your head or are spread too thin will not reflect well upon you, nor will taking AP courses that cause undue stress, limit your ability to participate in other meaningful activities, or impact your ability to get enough sleep each night. It’s best to enroll in AP courses only in areas that are of real interest to you and in which you are prepared and able to work hard.”

That email you’re writing…
That website you’re building…
That flyer you’re creating…
That brochure copy you’re penning…
That t-shirt you’re designing…

Who’s it for?

It’s a good question to ask, and a good person to envision, as you’re making it.

When I sit down to write a blog post, I try to envision exactly who it’s for. Not “parents,” or “students,” or “counselors”—that’s too broad. I want to imagine the one person out there who’s most likely to read and share it.

The parent of a nice B student who’d like some reassurance that there are plenty of great colleges out there for her child, too.

The over-achieving student who needs a reminder that the work will pay off no matter which colleges say yes.

The high school counselor who wants to alert her large caseload of families about upcoming changes in the financial aid process.

Of course, each of those posts will probably appeal to more than one person. But they won’t appeal to everyone, and that’s OK. If it’s good enough, the person each post is written for will share it with people in their tribe who think and act similarly.

It’s impossible to make something that everyone will like. But pleasing one specific person is an attainable goal.

And if your answer to “Who’s it for?” is, “This isn’t for anyone—it’s just for me,” then you’ve got a willing audience of one—yourself! So go make yourself happy with your art, writing, music, reading, learning, etc. and let all the other potential audiences go.

The path to the most receptive audience starts with an audience of one.

My neighbors—both full-time working parents—have a daughter in kindergarten. While visiting their house this week, I watched as their five-year-old sat patiently at the dinner table while her mother painstakingly crafted a stack of valentines.

Apparently, the kindergarten class’s forthcoming Valentine’s Day celebration came with the following requirements. Not only did the students need to bring individual Valentine’s Day cards for every student in the class, but the cards were also mandated to be:

Homemade.
Inscribed with personal messages complimenting each individual student.

And the school had just announced those requirements the week of the celebration.

I’m not an expert in kindergarten-level skills, but what five-year-old could actually create and produce customized cards for 25 students without significant parent involvement? As her mother calmly but frustratingly put it:

“This is pretty much a homework assignment for the parents.”

I understand the thinking behind the assignment. No student should feel left out on Valentine’s Day if the class is going to celebrate. It’s a nice sentiment for each student to express something positive about each of their classmates. And there’s nothing wrong with projects that kindergarten kids and their parents can work on together. That comes with the parenting job.

But this five-year-old, who apparently loves Valentine’s Day by the way, was bored and ready to move on no matter how much her mother created and encouraged opportunities to participate in the project. It had been several hours already and the project had long lost its appeal.

I write often here about the need for parents of high school kids to step back, to give your kids the space to do for themselves those things they’re capable of doing without your help. Those parents who continuously hover, manage, and otherwise run their kids’ lives aren’t preparing them for the independence of college.

But this Valentine’s Day card mandate reminded me that even well-intentioned parents might be trained early in their kids’ schooling to get involved because that seems to be what’s expected. If the assignments for your five-year-old require you to manage or even to complete them, how is a parent supposed to recognize when that involvement is no longer necessary when the assignments only get more advanced and more time-consuming as kids progress through school?

And even more troubling, why wouldn’t kids continue to expect or even depend on their parents’ help if the standard is set so early?

My best advice for parents: With each project, ask yourself if this is something your student can do. Then adapt your role to accommodate the “Yes.” Give them as much room or opportunity as you can to do the parts they’re able to complete, even if it means the end result won’t be perfect.

My advice for teachers and schools is largely the same. With each assignment, ask yourself, “Is this something a student can do?” If your answer is “Yes,” including one that will challenge kids to reach a little higher than they might think they can, give them a chance to learn, grow, and surprise themselves.

But if the answer is “No,” if your instincts and experience tell you that the assignment will rely more on parents than it does students, change the assignment until you find the “Yes.”