Podcasts about not time management

This week, we got into a thumb-war-to-the-death with our inner critic in order to lure over legendary copywriter, speaker, coach, author and all-round good Canada goose egg Dan Nelken. The alphabetical genius behind the bestselling Self Help Guide for Copywriters, and his 5-star online course ‘Writing Under Pressure', Dan has made it his mission to rescue writers and brands all over the world from the malign influence of the dreaded inner critic – a character that Dan describes, with characteristic politeness, as a ‘ding dong'. The true Canadian king of creativity (shut your face Reynolds) Dan chats to CTA about the importance of creating stuff that's just for you, the long-game of any creative career, how to gain and maintain creative confidence, and of course his own grapplings with an inner critic he calls Alan. ///// Follow Dan on LinkedIn  Visit Dan's site  Jerry Seinfeld's interview with Tim Ferriss, the interview every creative should watch ///// Timestamps (02:05) - Quick Fire Questions (04:05) - Dan's Early Jobs (04:53) - From Forklift Truck Driver to Copywriter (06:45) - Finding His Path into Copywriting (08:36) - First Copywriting Gig at Cosset and Breaking through with McDonald's (12:02) - Value of Getting Lost (13:21) - The inspiration behind “Writing Under Pressure” (17:59) - Creating a Course On Writing Headlines (21:03) - Response to the Book (22:40) - Maintaining Creative Confidence (24:09) - Confronting Your Inner Critic (26:07) - Structure in Creativity (29:07) - Creativity Closer to Math(s) than Magic (31:04) - Importance of Structure in Creativity (32:39) - Most Creatives Hate Brainstorming (36:57) - Naming Alan, the Inner Critic (39:21) - The Joy of Creating for Yourself (42:46) - Impact of Creating on Social Media (43:40) - Audience Questions (48:20) - Four Pertinent Posers ///// Dan's book recommendations are:   A Self-Help Guide for Copywriters by Dan Nelken  Hey Whipple, Squeeze This  by Luke Sullivan Mind Management, Not Time Management by David Kadavy /////

David Kadavy is Author of Mind Management, Not Time Management. He's the former design and productivity advisor to Timeful, a productivity app bought by Google and integrated into Google Calendar. Top 3 Value Bombs 1. If you only have 24 hours in a day, there is a limit to just how much extra productivity you can squeeze out of that. There's just a limit to how much extra things you can squeeze into your time. Eventually you are just squeezing blood from a stone. 2. There's two different ways to approach time. There is the clock time and then there's the event time. clock time is when you are going by the clock and that's the main priority. Event time is more about meeting the objective than it is staying on the schedule. 3. There's just not as much respect for mental state and whether or not now is the right time for something, as there should be. Subscribe to LOVE MONDAYS NEWSLETTER. A 2-minute read packed with inspiration to make it as a creative. Join thousands of writers, artists, musicians, film directors, comedians, and CEOs - David's Website Sponsors HubSpot Stop spending more time managing tools than connecting with prospects and customers. HubSpot's customer platform is a smoother, more effective way to grow! Visit HubSpot.com to learn more Thought-Leader Ever thought about giving a TEDx talk. Visit Thought-Leader.com/fire to join a free training and learn how to land a TEDx Talk and spread your message to millions

David Kadavy is Author of Mind Management, Not Time Management. He's the former design and productivity advisor to Timeful, a productivity app bought by Google and integrated into Google Calendar. Top 3 Value Bombs 1. If you only have 24 hours in a day, there is a limit to just how much extra productivity you can squeeze out of that. There's just a limit to how much extra things you can squeeze into your time. Eventually you are just squeezing blood from a stone. 2. There's two different ways to approach time. There is the clock time and then there's the event time. clock time is when you are going by the clock and that's the main priority. Event time is more about meeting the objective than it is staying on the schedule. 3. There's just not as much respect for mental state and whether or not now is the right time for something, as there should be. Subscribe to LOVE MONDAYS NEWSLETTER. A 2-minute read packed with inspiration to make it as a creative. Join thousands of writers, artists, musicians, film directors, comedians, and CEOs - David's Website Sponsors HubSpot Stop spending more time managing tools than connecting with prospects and customers. HubSpot's customer platform is a smoother, more effective way to grow! Visit HubSpot.com to learn more Thought-Leader Ever thought about giving a TEDx talk. Visit Thought-Leader.com/fire to join a free training and learn how to land a TEDx Talk and spread your message to millions

David Kadavy, an author, podcaster, and former designer whose work is redefining creativity in our age. David believes we're entering a new era where success hinges on our ability to generate ideas and bring them to life, even when the path isn't clear. Through his books, including the bestsellers Mind Management, Not Time Management and Design for Hackers, David has shared his insights with over 100,000 readers across twelve languages. In his weekly Love Mondays newsletter and various speaking engagements worldwide, from SXSW to TEDx, David explores the essence of creativity: how to find the courage to pursue ideas that might fail and discover the unique contributions each of us can make.David's Blog: https://kadavy.net/blog/In this podcast you will learn:How to be a bottom up thinker in a world that rewards top downsHow to balance creativity with productivityHow to figure out your PKM personalityMY FREE ONLINE COURSES:

Welcome to another enlightening episode of the MindHack Podcast! Today, we're thrilled to feature David Kadavy, a trailblazing author and designer who's challenging the way we think about creativity and productivity. David takes us on a transformative journey, sharing why he sold all his belongings and moved to Colombia to explore a groundbreaking concept: "Mind Management, Not Time Management."In this episode, David delves deep into the neuroscience of creativity, explaining those all-too-familiar moments when we feel creatively blocked and how to break free. He introduces us to the concept of "event time," a way of thinking about time that's prevalent in Colombia and argues that it's more natural and conducive to creativity than our conventional "clock time."David doesn't just share theories; he offers actionable advice, routines, and rituals that have not only worked for him but can also help you manage your mind for better productivity. This episode is a treasure trove of insights that could revolutionize your work life.More on David Kadavy:WebsiteTwitterInstagramTikTokMind Management, Not Time Management: Productivity When Creativity Matters (Getting Art Done Book 2)Other books hereBooks and other interesting mentions:The Heart to Start by David KadavyFrederick Taylor | Scientific Management Geography of Time by Robert LevineClock Time Versus Event Time by Tamar Avnet and Anne Laure SellierThe Art of Learning by Josh WaitzkinAtomic Habits: An Easy & Proven Way to Build Good Habits & Break Bad Ones by James ClearSteve Jobs Stanford Commencement AddressMaya Angelou QuotesSimon SinekHow to Increase Motivation & Drive | Huberman Lab Podcast #12 | Andrew Huberman The Eureka Factor: Aha Moments, Creative Insight, and the Brain by John KuniosScubapro WetNotes Underwater Notebook

After nearly eight years of the Love Your Work podcast, I'm quitting. Here's why, and What's Next. Podcasting is a bad business This is not the immediate reason I'm quitting, but it is at the root: Podcasting is a bad business. When the indirect benefits of an activity run out, it's hard to keep doing it if it's not making money. I realized long ago podcasting is a bad business, but I kept going for other reasons. I'll explain why in a bit. Though I didn't start my podcast with dollar signs in my eyes, I did at least hope I would grow to earn money doing it. I've earned about $32,000 in the eight-year history of Love Your Work. More than half of that has been from Patreon supporters, many of whom support for reasons other than the podcast. During that time, I've spent: $1,008 on hosting $11,749 on assistance with editing and publishing $241 on equipment And some other expenses, for a total of about $13,000 In raw numbers, I've made a “profit” on the podcast. But, as I broke down in my latest income report, my “wage” was about $6 an hour. My podcast comprised about 5% of my income over these eight years, and took much more than that portion of my time and energy. Of course, I don't think about whether the podcast was worth it in terms of an hourly rate. Creative work happens in Extremistan, not Mediocristan, and I've made massive life choices to be free to explore creatively without worrying so much what I'm earning in the short-term. Ways to make money podcasting But there are many different ways to make a podcast a solid business, and none of them worked for me, for various reasons. Here are some of these business models, as they apply to the “thought-leader” space (I'll ignore the more entertainment/infotainment space that podcasts like Gimlet's inhabit). Be so massively famous, you can pick-and-choose advertisers, while demanding a lot of money. This is where Tim Ferriss and Joe Rogan are. They both started with large platforms, and applied whatever talents that helped them earn those platforms to make their podcasts huge. After more than fifteen years as a creator, I have a modest platform, but orders of magnitude smaller. Build a “content machine” that manufactures ad slots. I won't name names, but you've heard these podcasts. They're formulaic and don't seem to discern much who they have as a guest, nor what sponsors they accept. This business model is why my inbox is still full of pitches – they think I actually want more guests, because more guests would mean more ad slots. It takes a very rare set of circumstances for me to be excited to interview someone. Share information that directly helps people make money. If you have tactical and actionable information that's useful to professionals in a specific industry, you can charge for premium podcast content. I'm not as interested in the tactical and actionable as I am in the abstract and exploratory. Cover a niche topic. If you have a leading podcast about a very specific topic, advertisers within that niche will be willing to pay high rates to reach that audience. I didn't want to build my podcast according to a specific topic – more on that later. Have a “back-end” business. If you have a thriving consulting business, or training programs to sell, you can attract more clients and customers through your podcast. As I wrote in my ten-year reflections, “I want to make a living creating. I don't want creating to be merely a marketing strategy for other things. Is that completely insane?” I flirted with success in a few of these business models. Early on, I hoped my podcast would be famous enough to pick and choose advertisers at high rates. For a while, it looked like I had a chance. I was approached by a podcast network, and I had some reputable advertisers such as LinkedIn, Skillshare, Casper, Audible, Pittney Bowes, and University of California. Various times, I thought I was on the cusp of my “big break” – such as when Love Your Work was featured on the Apple Podcasts home screen. But the more I tried to go the “get famous” route, the louder the siren-song of the “content machine” route got. There were plenty of opportunities to do “interview swaps” with hosts I wasn't interested in interviewing. There were a few advertisers that had money, but whose products felt sleazy. Joining a podcast network would have pressured me to crank out content even if I didn't feel like it. There was (and still is) the never-ending stream of pitch emails for guests. I had too much wax in my ears to go the “content machine” route. Not included in my lifetime revenue-estimates for Love Your Work is money I made through the “back-end business” route. I was somewhat comfortable with this model, but I haven't made a course in years, as I've been focused on writing books. And as bad a business as people say writing books is, it's better than making a podcast. The podcast has helped me sell books in more ways than one. One way is that people who listened to the podcast bought my books. The other way is, making my podcast helped me write my books. This brings me to the reason I kept making my podcast, even after I realized it wasn't a good business. Make for what making makes you In my sixteen years experimenting with different business models as an independent creator, I've settled on one thing that works: Make for what making makes you. If making a podcast, writing a book, sending a weekly newsletter – you name it – merely makes you money, and doesn't make you who you want to be, what's the point? Sure, sometimes you don't feel like creating, and you do it anyway. Yes, sometimes you pick one project over another because you think it will be more lucrative. But you can only redirect the river that is your creativity so much before it overflows and returns to its natural path. I learned from my guests When I started Love Your Work, and was struggling to make it big enough to work with an ad model, even if I wasn't bringing in lots of ad revenue, I was still connecting with and learning from my guests. It was an incredible privilege to have in-depth conversations with people like Seth Godin, Elise Bauer, and David Allen. It was like having my own personal advisory board of heroes. Talking to them helped me learn how to go off the beaten path and find my calling. I was able to find patterns in their stories that I could apply to my own life and career. I would be a completely different person today if I hadn't had those conversations. It was time to explore But there came a point when doing interviews was no longer serving me the way it once had. It was when I had gained the confidence – thanks to my previous guests – to explore further my own ideas. That's when I stopped interviewing guests, so I'd have more time to explore. Love Your Work shifted from my personal advisory board to my personal sounding board – a sort of “open mic,” where I fleshed out ideas. I got to see how it felt to effortfully explore each idea. I got to hear how they sounded when I read them aloud. I got to feel how they resonated (or didn't) with others. It helped me write my books A couple years after I started Love Your Work, I started writing a book called Getting Art Done. Getting Art Done turned out to be three books, two of which I've published. Love Your Work has been there to help me explore the ideas in these books. The Heart to Start was full of conversations from my early guests, and came from my very real struggles in gaining the confidence to take my ideas seriously enough to pursue them. Mind Management, Not Time Management came from my very real struggles to harness my creative energy and push my ideas forward. As I work on the final book in the Getting Art Done trilogy, Finish What Matters, I'm asking myself, What struggle does this book come from? Clearly, I've finished a lot of creative work: three books, over two-hundred consecutive weekly newsletters, and over three-hundred episodes of this podcast. But as I've dwelt on that final word in the title, matters, I'm asking myself if I'm really working on what matters? Love Your Work and Getting Art Done have been an exploration in creative productivity. But at some point, writing about Resistance becomes a form of Resistance. I don't feel I've reached that point yet, but I don't want to. If I'm going to learn enough to write Finish What Matters, I have to really test my ideas of what matters. I've probably explored enough ideas, through Love Your Work, that I want to develop further in Finish What Matters. But for the time being, I need space to explore what matters. That's the biggest reason I'm quitting Love Your Work. I had considered doing so in the past, but I kept hoping I'd know What's Next before I quit. I've come to realize that I can't know What's Next until I have the space to explore. What's Next is finding What's Next It's a little scary to have that void. But it's also exciting. Furthermore, I've faced The Void many times before: when I started on my own, after finishing each book, and a little bit after each podcast episode or newsletter. What's scarier now than facing the void is that I'll stick with what's safe, and distract myself into dying with my best creations inside me. I could just say I'm taking a break, or not say anything at all and stop until I felt inspired to make a new episode. I've talked before about how I struggle to burn my boats and close doors. So, I'm calling it quits, knowing I could always drop another episode in the feed down the line if I wanted to. But I hope I find something that matters more, before that ever happens. Thank you for listening! Thank you for listening to Love Your Work. Thank you especially to my Patreon supporters, who can of course feel free to stop supporting, or keep supporting for the bonus content, and to support What's Next. To learn What's Next once I find it, be sure to subscribe to my newsletter at kdv.co. One last time, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Image: Pierrot Lunaire by Paul Klee About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email New bonus content on Patreon! I've been adding lots of new content to Patreon. Join the Patreon »       Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/quit-podcasting/

You've probably heard that, in a blind taste test, even experts can't tell between white and red wine. Even if this were true – and it's not – it wouldn't matter. I was in Rome last month, visiting some Raphael paintings to research my next book, and stopped by the Sistine Chapel. I've spent a good amount of time studying what Michelangelo painted on that ceiling. There are lots of high-resolution images on Wikipedia. But seeing a picture is nothing like the experience of seeing the Sistine Chapel. You've invested thousands of dollars and spent fifteen hours on planes. You're jet-lagged and your feet ache from walking 20,000 steps. You're hot. When you enter, guards order you to keep moving, so you won't block the door. They corral you to the center, and you can finally look up. When you hear wine experts can't tell between white and red wine, you imagine the following: Professional sommeliers are blindfolded, and directed to taste two wines. They then make an informed guess which is white, and which is red. In this imaginary scenario, they get it right half the time – as well as if they had flipped a coin. If it were true wine experts couldn't tell between white and red wine, the implication would be that the experience of tasting wine is separate from other aspects of the wine. That the color, the shape of the glass, the bottle, the label, and even the price of the wine are all insignificant. That they all distract from the only thing that matters: the taste of the wine. There's some psychophysiological trigger that gets pulled when you tilt your head back. Maybe it stimulates your pituitary gland. When you have your head back and are taking in the images on the Sistine Chapel ceiling, you feel vulnerable. (You literally are vulnerable. You can't see what's going on around you. You'd be easy to physically attack.) What you see is overwhelming. As you try to focus your attention on some detail, some other portion of the imagery calls out and redirects your attention. This happens again and again. After a while, your neck needs a rest, and you return your gaze to eye-level. And this is almost as cool as the ceiling: You see other people with their heads back, their eyes wide, mouths agape, hands on hearts, tears in eyes. You hear languages and see faces from all over the world. You realize they all, too, have invested thousands of dollars and spent fifteen hours on planes. They, too, are jet-lagged and hot and have walked 20,000 steps. You can look at pictures of the Sistine Chapel ceiling on the internet. You can experience it in VR. In many ways, this is better than going to the Sistine Chapel. You can take as much time as you want, and look as close as you want. You don't have to spend thousands of dollars and fifteen hours on a plane, take time off work, or even crane back your neck. But seeing the Sistine Chapel ceiling on the internet or even VR is only better than seeing it in person, in the way that a spoonful of granulated sugar when you're starving is better than a hypothetical burger in another iteration of the multiverse. We've seen an explosion of AI capabilities in recent months. That has a lot of people worried about what it means to be a creator. Why do we need humans to write, for example, if ChatGPT can write? The reason ChatGPT's writing is impressive is the same reason there's still a place for things created by humans. Anyone old enough to have been on the internet in the heyday of America Online in the 1990s will remember this: When you were in a chat room, most the conversations were about being in a chat room: How long have you been on the internet? Isn't the internet cool? What other chat rooms do you like? Part of the appeal of the question “ASL?” – Age, Sex, Location? – was marveling over the fact you were chatting in real-time with a stranger several states away. Or maybe you remember when Uber or Lyft first came to your town. For the first year or two, likely every conversation you had with a driver was about how long they had been driving, about how quickly the service had grown in your town, which is better – Uber or Lyft?, or which nearby cities got which services first. The first few months ChatGPT was out, it was seemingly the only thing anyone on the internet talked about. But it wasn't because ChatGPT's writing was amazing. ChatGPT is a bad writer's idea of a good writer. It was because of the story: Wow, my computer is writing! Now that much of the novelty of ChatGPT has worn off, many of us are falling into the Trough of Disillusionment on the Gartner Hype Cycle. We're realizing ChatGPT is like a talking dog: It's impressive the dog can appear to talk, but it's not talking – it's just saying the words it's been taught. ChatGPT is very useful in some situations, but not as many as we had originally hoped. What made us talk about the internet while on the internet, talk about Uber while in Ubers, and talk about ChatGPT while chatting with ChatGPT was the story. Once the story behind the internet or Uber wore off, we started to appreciate them for their own utility. Part of what's cool about seeing the Sistine Chapel ceiling in VR is that – we're seeing it in VR. But even if that weren't impressive, what would still be impressive about the paintings would be more than just that they're amazing paintings. It's incredible to us a human could paint such a massive expanse. We think about the stories and myths of Michelangelo, up on that scaffolding, painting in isolation. Part of our appreciation of the Sistine Chapel ceiling lies outside the ceiling itself. While marveling at it, we can't help but think of Michelangelo's other masterpieces, such as the David or the Pietà. Lloyd Richards spent fourteen years writing Stone Maidens, and had almost no sales for decades. Suddenly, he sold 65,000 copies in a month. He was interviewed on the TODAY show, and got a book deal with a major publisher. How did he do it? His daughter made a TikTok account. The first video showed Lloyd at his desk, and explained what a good dad he was, how hard he had worked on Stone Maidens, and how great it would be if he made some sales. Then the #BookTok community did the rest. Stone Maidens is apparently a good book. But it's no better today than it was all those years it didn't sell. Most the comments on Lloyd's TikTok account – which now has over 400,000 followers – aren't about what a great book Stone Maidens is. They're about how Lloyd seems like such a nice guy, or how excited each commenter is to have contributed to his success. The study that started the myth that wine experts can't taste the difference between white and red wine didn't show that. The participants in the study literally weren't allowed to describe the two wines the same way – they couldn't use the same word for one as the other. It wasn't blindfolded – it was a white wine versus the same wine, dyed red. The study wasn't about taste at all: Participants weren't allowed to taste the wine – they were only allowed to smell. And wine experts? That depends on your definition of “expert”. They were undergraduate students, studying wine. They knew more than most of us, but were far from the top echelon of wine professionals. Most damning for this myth was that the same study casually mentions doing an informal blind test: The success rate of their participants in distinguishing the taste of white versus red wine: 70%. That this myth is false shouldn't detract from the point that even if it were true, it wouldn't matter. What the authors of this study found was not that wine enthusiasts couldn't tell between white and red wine, but that the appearance of a wine as white or red shaped their perceptions of the smell of the wine. Once you bake a cake, you can't turn it back into flour, sugar, butter, and eggs. You can't extract the taste of a wine from the color, the bottle, your mental image of where the grapes were grown and how the wine was made, or even the occasion for which you bought the wine. Something made by an AI can be awesome, either because it's really good at doing what it's supposed to, or because you appreciate it was made by an AI. Something made by a human is often awesome because of the story of the human who made it, and the story you as a human live as you interact with it. If you want to be relevant in the age of AI, learn how to bake your story into the product. Because AI can't bake. Image: Figures on a Beach by Louis Marcoussis About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email New bonus content on Patreon! I've been adding lots of new content to Patreon. Join the Patreon »       Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/ai-cant-bake/

We trust the food we eat, the drinks we drink, and the air we breathe are safe. That in case they're unsafe, someone is working to minimize our exposure, or at least tell us the risks. In The Triumph of Doubt, former head of OSHA David Michaels reveals how companies fight for their rights to sell harmful products, expose workers to health hazards, and pollute the environment. They do it by manufacturing so-called “science.” Most this science is built not upon proving they're not causing harm, but by doing whatever they can to cast doubt. Here, in my own words, is a summary of The Triumph of Doubt: Dark Money and the Science of Deception. Products we use every day cause harm Chances are you've cooked on a pan coated with Teflon. Teflon is one of many polyfluoroalkyl substances, or PFAS. When introduced in the 1940s, they were considered safe. We now know they're linked with high cholesterol, poor immune function, cancer, obesity, birth defects, and low fertility. PFAS, it turns out, have such a long half-life, they're called “forever chemicals.” PFAS can now be found in the blood of virtually all residents of the United States, and have been found in unsafe levels worldwide – in rainwater. You've probably heard that, in moderation, alcohol is actually good for you. But even one drink a day leads to higher overall mortality risk. More than one drink, greater risk of cardiovascular disease and cancer. Alcohol is a causal factor in 5% of deaths worldwide – about 3 million a year. 13.5% of deaths between ages 20–39 are alcohol-related. If you're in pain after an injury or surgery, your doctor might prescribe for you an opioid. But the rise in opioid addiction is responsible for the first drop in U.S. life expectancy in more than two decades. It's sent shockwaves throughout society. It's helped launch the epidemics of fentanyl and heroin overdoses, and the number of children in foster care in West Virginia, for example, rose 42% in four years. You might love to watch professional football. But NFL players are nineteen times more likely to develop neurological disorders, and thirty percent could develop Alzheimer's or dementia from taking so many hits. The “product defense” industry sows doubt How have they done it? How have companies been able to manufacture and sell products that cause so much harm, for so long? They do it by defending their products, when the safety of those products are questioned. On the surface, that's not so bad. But besides lying and deliberately deceiving, they abuse society's trust in so-called “science,” and our lack of understanding of how much we risk when we move forward while still in doubt. The tobacco industry is a pioneer of product defense There's an entire industry that helps companies defend their products from regulation: It's called, appropriately, product defense. The tobacco industry is most-known for its product defense. In 1953, John W. Hill of the PR firm Hill & Knowlton convinced the tobacco industry to start – one floor below his office in the Empire State Building – the Tobacco Industry Research Committee (TIRC). The TIRC was supposed to do rigorous scientific research to understand the health effects of smoking, but mostly they just attacked existing science, doing what they could to sow doubt. Just a few years earlier, in 1950, a study had found heavy smokers were fifty times as likely as nonsmokers to get lung cancer. With the help of the TIRC, it would take a long time for these health risks to influence public policy. About thirty years later, most states had restricted smoking in some public places such as auditoriums and government buildings. Smoking had proliferated in American culture when cigarettes had been provided in soldiers' rations in WWI. Michaels describes one surgeon who, in 1919, made sure not to miss an autopsy of a man who had died of lung cancer, because it was the chance of a lifetime. He didn't see another case of lung cancer for seventeen years, then saw eight within six months. All eight had started smoking while serving in the war. Today, more than a century after cigarettes were widely introduced, we've finally seen a massive reduction in smoking in the U.S. We can fly on planes and go to restaurants and even bars, without being exposed to secondhand smoke. The sugar industry has been at it even longer Predating the product defense efforts of the tobacco industry is actually the sugar industry. The Sugar Research Foundation was started in 1943. Scientific evidence first linked sugar with heart disease in the 1950s. In 1967, as Dr. Robert Lustig told us, Harvard scientists published in the New England Journal of Medicine an article blaming fat rather than sugar for heart disease. Fifty years later UCSF researchers discovered the scientists had been funded by the Sugar Research Foundation – which they hadn't disclosed. Even more misleadingly, they had disclosed funding that actually made them look more impartial – from the dairy industry. Companies and industries set up “astroturfing” organizations The Sugar Research Foundation and the Tobacco Industry Research Committee are are early examples of “astroturfing” organizations. This tactic of the product defense industry involves setting up organizations with innocent- or even charitable-sounding names, then doing low-quality research to defend a company or industry's interests. The American Council for Science and Health has published articles opposing regulation of mercury emissions, and attacked science finding harm in consumption of sugar and alcohol. When the National Football League was first looking into the effects of playing their sport, they formed the MTBI. the “M” in MTBI gave away their stance: TBI stands for Traumatic Brain Injuries, and this committee formed for finding the effects of brain injuries was called the Mild Traumatic Brain Injuries committee. The alcohol industry set up the Alcoholic Beverage Medical Research Foundation. The first board of directors included Peter Stroh, William K. Coors, and August A. Busch III. Their first president, Thomas B. Turner, was former dean of Johns Hopkins University Medical School, a tie of which they made good use in promoting their agenda – more on that in a bit. The American Pain Foundation ran campaigns to make pain medication more widely available for veterans, running ads reminding patients of their “right” to pain treatment. Astroturfing organizations are funded by “Dark Money” Astroturfing organizations are funded by so-called “Dark Money”. In other words, they do whatever they can to hide where their funding comes from, lest their biases become obvious. The American Council for Science and Health claims much of their funding comes from private foundations, but investigative reports have found 58% of it coming straight from industry, and that many of those private foundations have ties to corporations. Leaked documents show a huge list of corporate donors including McDonald's, 3M, and Coca-Cola. The NFL's MTBI committee's papers included a statement saying, “none of the Committee members has a financial or business relationship posing a conflict of interest.” Yet the committee consisted entirely of people on the NFL's payroll: team physicians, athletic trainers, and equipment managers. Documents collected by the New York Times revealed that administrators at the The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism wanted to do a randomized clinical trial on the effects of alcohol. To fund the study, they went to industry, calling it “a unique opportunity to show that moderate alcohol consumption is safe.” They were going into the study with the conclusions already in mind, saying, “one of the important findings will be showing that moderate drinking is safe.” Several companies pledged nearly $68 million toward the $100 million budget. As part of the National Institutes of Health – a federal organization – the NIAAA was pitching this as a chance for the alcohol industry to use a government-funded study to prove their product was safe. Money directly from alcohol manufacturers was to be routed through the NIH Foundation, since it's illegal for private companies to fund government studies. When the Senate Finance Committee began investigating ties between the American Pain Foundation and pharmaceutical companies, the APF quickly dissolved, apparently knowing what would be found otherwise. Besides private foundations, straight-up lying, and routing money through a federal foundation, another way of keeping money “dark” is by taking advantage of attorney-client privilege. By having the law firm pay accomplices, even if there's a lawsuit, the documents are private. Using connections and flawed science to manufacture pseudo-events When corporations do get studies published about the risks of using their products, they're often low-quality studies. If they don't deliberately conceal their findings, they often use their connections to create what are essentially pseudo-events to prop up their flawed conclusions. Internal documents from DuPont show they knew the PFAS in Teflon was a problem. In 1970, they found it in their factory worker's blood. In 1981, 3M told them it caused birth defects in rats, and DuPont's own workers' children had birth defects at a high rate. In 1991, DuPont set an internal safety limit of 1 ppb. Meanwhile, they found a local water district had three times that amount. In 2002, they set up a so-called “independent” panel in West Virginia, and set a safe limit at 150 times their own internal safety limit – so they'd have less-strict standards for polluting their community's drinking water. In 2016, the Environmental Protection Agency set a safe limit of 70 ppt (trillion!) – less than one-one-hundredth DuPont's previous internal safety limit. The NFL did very little for many years to ask serious questions about the long-term effects on their players. When players Junior Seau and Dave Duerson committed suicide, they both shot themselves in the chest instead of the head, so their brain tissue could be studied after their deaths. The MTBI argued that players were clearly fine if they returned to play shortly after concussions. They abused the concept of survivorship bias, arguing that those who didn't drop out of football in college or high school and made it to the pros were more resistant to brain injury. The editor of the journal, Neurosurgery, which published MTBI's papers, was a medical consultant to the New York Giants, and later to the commissioner's office – a clear conflict of interest. I mentioned earlier the first president of the alcohol industry's ABMRF was a former dean of Johns Hopkins. When ABMRF published a study, the Johns Hopkins press office would issue a press-release, which would instantly make the study seem more credible. One of the studies that has proliferated throughout media and culture, finding that moderate alcohol use is actually good for you, was a door-to-door survey – a very flawed methodology. Non-drinkers in a study are likely to include people who don't drink because they're already sick, or are former abusers of alcohol. One of the main “papers” the pharma industry used to defend their positions that opioids had a low risk of addiction was, from 1980, a five-sentence letter to the editor of the New England Journal of Medicine. It's a letter, not a paper – there was no peer review. It has been cited hundreds of times in medical literature – often by researchers with ties to opioid manufacturers. TIME magazine unfortunately called it a “landmark study.” (This is a great example of a pseudo-event: the proliferation of flawed information throughout media made it accepted as true.) The double-standard in access to study data The papers that do get published by the product-defense industry are usually not original studies. They're often reanalysis of existing data. Industry takes advantage of the Shelby Amendment, which the tobacco industry promoted under the guise of concern over pollution. The Shelby Amendment requires federally-funded researchers to share any data they collect. In this way, industry can reanalyze the data in ways that arrive at any conclusion they want. So, “re-analysis” has its own cottage industry within product defense. When industry does conduct original studies, they don't have to share their data, and so it isn't subject to the same scrutiny. Manufacturing doubt in other industries The Triumph of Doubt goes on and on with examples of deception and collusion from various industries. Some other highlights: Volkswagen installed a device in their diesel cars to detect when their emissions were being tested. The device would activate, causing the car to pollute forty times less, only when being tested. Johnson & Johnson knew as early as 1971 their baby powder was contaminated with asbestiform particles – asbestos-like particles that cause cancer – but pressured scientists to not report them. Monsanto publishes many studies in Critical Reviews in Toxicology, which Michaels calls “a known haven for science produced by corporate consultants.” Many authors have done work for Monsanto, don't disclose their conflicts of interest, and have denied Monsanto had reviewed their papers – later litigation showed they had. Should chemicals be innocent until proven guilty? There's a concept called the precautionary principle. It states that when we know little about what the consequences of an action will be, we should err on the side of caution. If a new chemical is developed, we should wait before we let it get into our food and water. If a new technology is invented, we should wait until we introduce it to society. In criminal courts, a defendant is innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. We like this, because we hate the idea of someone being thrown in jail despite being innocent. And we can physically remove someone dangerous from society and more or less stop them from continuing to harm others. Criminal harm can be halted, chemical harm cannot But this is also our policy for chemicals, drugs, and potentially dangerous activities. We have an extremely high bar for deciding something is harmful enough we should reduce our exposure to it. OSHA – the Occupational Safety and Health Administration – has exposure limits for only 500 of the many thousands of chemicals used in commerce. Because the regulatory process is so onerous, Michaels says, in the half-century OSHA has been around, they've updated only twenty-seven of those 500. Yet, as with PFAS, even after we start reducing our exposure, the effects of harmful substances keep going. As one Stockholm University scientist has said about PFAS in rainwater, “We just have to wait...decades to centuries.” And, unlike a criminal court, where the only people motivated to keep from punishing a defendant are the defendant's lawyers and family members, huge networks of people stand to profit from harmful products – executives, shareholders, and entire industries have the incentives to conspire and collude. Balancing harm with innovation On the other hand, the precautionary principle can slow or halt innovation. Many products that may be harmful may also be useful. Teflon and other PFAS have a huge number of applications. Supposedly it's been replaced by other chemicals in cookware – though they're probably similar (taking advantage of loopholes in the slow regulatory process). Supposedly exposure potential from cooking is low – but you know now how hard it is to “trust the science.” As horrifying as some of these abuses of science are, you can't be horrified by them without at least some sympathy for those who didn't want to get the COVID vaccine: If a product is immediately harmful to everyone who takes it, that's easy to prove. But could it harm some people in the long term? It's nearly impossible to be sure. There's more money and power behind sowing reasonable doubt than behind exposing sources of harm. Meanwhile, it's easy to sow and abuse the existence of doubt, and that's why it's the main tactic used in product defense. There's your summary of The Triumph of Doubt If you liked this summary, you'll probably like The Triumph of Doubt. As a career regulator, Michaels comes off as somewhat biased, clearly partisan at times, a little shrill with his use of dramatic terms such as “Big Tobacco” and “Big Sugar.” Get ready for lots of alphabet soup, as you try to keep track of the myriad agencies and foundations identified by acronyms. Because of media's key role in the doubt-sowing Michaels writes about, I'll be adding this as an honorable mention on my best media books list. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email New bonus content on Patreon! I've been adding lots of new content to Patreon. Join the Patreon »       Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/triumph-of-doubt/

According to philosopher Isaiah Berlin, people think in one of two different ways: They're either hedgehogs, or foxes. If you think like a hedgehog, you'll be more successful as a communicator. If you think like a fox, you'll be more accurate. Isaiah Berlin coined the hedgehog/fox dichotomy (via Archilochus) In Isaiah Berlin's 1953 essay, “The Hedgehog and the Fox,” he quotes the ancient Greek poet, Archilochus: The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one thing. Berlin describes this as “one of the deepest differences which divide writers and thinkers, and, it may be, human beings in general.” How are “hedgehogs” and “foxes” different? According to Berlin, hedgehogs relate everything to a single central vision. Foxes pursue many ends, often unrelated or even contradictory. If you're a hedgehog, you explain the world through a focused belief or area of expertise. Maybe you're a chemist, and you see everything as chemical reactions. Maybe you're highly religious, and everything is “God's will.” If you're a fox, you explain the world through a variety of lenses. You may try on conflicting beliefs for size, or use your knowledge in a wide variety of fields to understand the world. You explain things as From this perspective, X. But on the other hand, Y. It's also worth considering Z. The seminal hedgehog/fox essay is actually about Leo Tolstoy Even though this dichotomy Berlin presented has spread far and wide, his essay is mostly about Leo Tolstoy, and the tension between his fox-like tendencies and hedgehog-like aspirations. In Tolstoy's War and Peace, he writes: In historic events the so-called great men are labels giving names to events, and like labels they have but the smallest connection with the event itself. Every act of theirs, which appears to them an act of their own will, is in an historical sense involuntary and is related to the whole course of history and predestined from eternity. In War and Peace, Tolstoy presents characters who act as if they have control over the events of history. In Tolstoy's view, the events that make history are too complex to be controlled. Extending this theory outside historical events, Tolstoy also writes: When an apple has ripened and falls, why does it fall? Because of its attraction to the earth, because its stalk withers, because it is dried by the sun, because it grows heavier, because the wind shakes it, or because the boy standing below wants to eat it? Nothing is the cause. All this is only the coincidence of conditions in which all vital organic and elemental events occur. Is Tolstoy a fox, or a hedgehog? He acknowledges the complexity with which various events are linked – which is very fox-like. But he also seems convinced these events are so integrated with one another that nothing can change them. They're “predetermined” – a “coincidence of conditions.” A true hedgehog might have a simple explanation, such as that gravity caused the apple to fall. Tolstoy loved concrete facts and causes, such as the pull of gravity, yet still yearned to find some universal law that could be used to predict the future. According to Berlin: It is not merely that the fox knows many things. The fox accepts that he can only know many things and that the unity of reality must escape his grasp. And this was Tolstoy's downfall. Early in his life, he presented profound insights about the world through novels such as War and Peace and Anna Karenina. That was very fox-like. Later in his life, he struggled to condense his deep knowledge about the world and human behavior into overarching theories about moral and ethical issues. As Berlin once wrote to a friend, Tolstoy was “a fox who terribly believed in hedgehogs and wished to vivisect himself into one.” Other hedgehogs and foxes in Berlin's essay Other thinkers Berlin classifies as foxes include Aristotle, Goethe, and Shakespeare. Other thinkers Berlin classifies as hedgehogs include Dante, Dostoevsky, and Plato. What does the hedgehog/fox dichotomy have to do with the animals? What does knowing many things have to do with actual foxes? What does knowing one big thing have to do with actual hedgehogs? A fox is nimble and clever. It can run fast, climb trees, dig holes, swim across rivers, stalk prey, or hide from predators. A hedgehog mostly relies upon its ability to roll into a ball and ward off intruders. Foxes tell the future, hedgehogs get credit What are the consequences of being a fox or a hedgehog? According to Phil Tetlock, foxes are better at telling the future, while hedgehogs get more credit for telling the future. In Tetlock's 2005 book, Expert Political Judgement, he shared his findings from forecasting tournaments he held in the 1980s and 90s. Experts made 30,000 predictions about political events such as wars, economic growth, and election results. Then Tetlock tracked the performances of those predictions. What he found led to the U.S. intelligence community holding forecasting tournaments, tracking more than one million forecasts. Tetlock's own Good Judgement Project won the forecasting tournament, outperforming even intelligence analysts with access to classified data. Better a fox than an expert These forecasting tournaments have shown that whether someone can make accurate predictions about the future doesn't depend upon their field of expertise, their status within the field, their political affiliation, or philosophical beliefs. It doesn't matter if you're a political scientist, a journalist, a historian, or have experience implementing policies. As the intelligence community's forecasting tournaments have shown, it doesn't even matter if you have access to classified information. What matters is your style of reasoning: Foxes make more accurate predictions than hedgehogs. Across the board, experts were barely better than chance at predicting what would or wouldn't happen. Will a new tax plan spur or slow the economy? Will the Cold War end? Will Iran run a nuclear test? Generally, it didn't matter if they were an economist, an expert on the Soviet Union, or a political scientist. That didn't guarantee they'd be better than chance at predicting what would happen. What did matter is whether they thought like a fox. Foxes are: deductive, open-minded, less-biased Foxes are skeptical of grand schemes – the sort of “theories of everything” Tolstoy had hoped to construct. They didn't see predicting events as a top-down, deductive process. They saw it as a bottom-up, inductive process – stitching together diverse and conflicting sources of information. Foxes were curious and open-minded. They didn't go with the tribe. A liberal fox would be more open to thinking the Cold War could have gone on longer with a second Carter administration. A conservative fox would be more open to believing the Cold War could have ended just as quickly under Carter as it did under Reagan. Foxes were less prone to hindsight bias – less likely to remember their inaccurate predictions as accurate. They were less prone to the bias of cognitive conservatism – maintaining their beliefs after making an inaccurate prediction. As one fox said: Whenever I start to feel certain I am right... a little voice inside tells me to start worrying. —A “fox” Hedgehogs are: deductive, close-minded, more-biased (yet more successful) As for inaccurate predictions, one simple test tracked with whether an expert made accurate predictions: a Google search. If an expert was more famous – as evinced by having more results show up on Google when searching their name – they tended to be less accurate. Think about the talking-head people that get called onto MSNBC or Fox News (pun, albeit inaccurate, not intended) to make quick comments on the economy, wars, and elections – those people. Experts who made more media appearances, and got more gigs consulting with governments and businesses, were actually less accurate at making predictions than their colleagues who were toiling in obscurity. And these experts who were more successful – in terms of media appearances and consulting gigs – also tended to be hedgehogs. Hedgehogs see making predictions as a top-down deductive process. They're more likely to make sweeping generalizations. They take the “one big thing” they know – say, being an expert on the Soviet Union – and view everything through that lens. Even if it's to explain something in other domains. Hedgehogs are more-biased about the world, and about themselves. They were more likely than foxes to remember inaccurate predictions they had made, as accurate. They were more likely to remember as inaccurate, predictions their opponents made that were accurate. Rather than change their beliefs, when presented with challenging evidence hedgehog's beliefs got stronger. Are hedgehogs playing a different game? It's tempting to take that and run with it: The close-minded hedgehogs of the world are inaccurate. Success doesn't track with skill. Tetlock is careful to caution that hedgehogs aren't always worse than foxes at telling the future. Also, there are good reasons to be overconfident in predictions. As one hedgehog political pundit wrote to Tetlock: You play a publish-or-perish game run by the rules of social science.... You are under the misapprehension that I play the same game. I don't. I fight to preserve my reputation in a cutthroat adversarial culture. I woo dumb-ass reporters who want glib sound bites. —“Hedgehog” political pundit A hedgehog has a lot to gain from making bold predictions and being right, and nobody holds them accountable when they're wrong. But according to Tetlock, nothing in the data indicates hedgehogs and foxes are equally good forecasters who merely have different tastes for under- and over-prediction. As Tetlock says: Quantitative and qualitative methods converge on a common conclusion: foxes have better judgement than hedgehogs. —Phil Tetlock, Expert Political Judgement Hedgehogs may make better leaders As bad as hedgehogs look now, there are some real benefits to hedgehogs. They're more-focused. They don't get as distracted when a situation is ambiguous. So, hedgehogs are more decisive. They're harder to manipulate in a negotiation, and more willing to make controversial decisions that could make enemies. And that confidence can help them lead others. Overall, hedgehogs are better at getting their messages heard. Given the mechanics of media today, that means the messages we hear from either side of the political spectrum are those of the hedgehogs. Hedgehog thinking makes better sound bites, satisfies the human desire for clarity and certainty, and is easier for algorithms to categorize and distribute. The medium is the message, and nuance is cut out of the messages by the characteristics of the mediums. Which increases polarization. But, there is hope for the foxes. While the media landscape is still dominated by hedgehog messages that work as social media clips, there are more channels with more room for intellectually-honest discourse: blogs, podcasts, and books. And if many a ChatGPT conversation is any indication, the algorithms may get more sophisticated and remind us, “it's important to consider....” Hedgehogs, be foxes! And foxes, hedgehogs. If you're a hedgehog, you're lucky: What you have to say has a better chance of being heard. But it will have a better chance of being correct if you think like a fox once in a while: consider different angles, and assume you're wrong. If you're a fox, you have your work cut out for you: You may have important – and accurate – things to say, but they have less a chance of being heard. Your message will travel farther if you think like a hedgehog once in a while: assume you're right, cut out the asides, and say it with confidence. Image: Fox in the Reeds by Ohara Koson About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email New bonus content on Patreon! I've been adding lots of new content to Patreon. Join the Patreon »       Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/hedgehogs-foxes/

Many creators and aspiring creators struggle not because they don't have enough ideas, but because they have too many. Their situations, in summary, are “Too many ideas, must pick one.” Embedded in this belief are assumptions that, if challenged, can help you feel as if you have just enough ideas. In my recent AMA, I got a question I'm asked about creativity, probably more than any other: How can you pick a creative project when you have too many ideas? I've experienced, “too many ideas, must pick one,” many times. I still often do. I of course answered this question in the AMA, but here I'll answer more in-depth. This is the thought process I guide myself through when I'm in the land of “too many ideas, must pick one.” There are three assumptions embedded in, “too many ideas, must pick one.” All these ideas are equally likely to succeed. I'm equally capable of succeeding at each of these ideas. I can't work on multiple ideas at once. Let's look at each of those. Assumption 1: “All these ideas are equally likely to succeed” If you feel you have too many ideas, you must think they're equally likely to succeed, which is the first assumption. That might not sound correct at first, but think about it. If you were starving, and only allowed to eat one of various sandwiches, you would probably pick the biggest and most calorie-rich. You might not be able to tell so easily which is the biggest and most calorie-rich sandwich. In fact, there may be other factors that play into your decision. Maybe the avocado and pork belly sandwich is the most calorie-rich, but you're craving roasted duck in this moment, and there happens to be a roasted-duck sandwich amongst the selections. While satisfying your hunger is one objective of choosing a sandwich, there are other goals in mind, such as satisfying cravings, which may compete with one another. If you have a hard time deciding amongst all the sandwiches, you expect eating one sandwich to be equally likely to succeed as eating any of the others. As with projects, “success” may come in many forms. We'll get to that in a bit. Assumption 2: “I'm equally capable of succeeding at each of these ideas” If you feel you have too many ideas, you must think you're equally capable of succeeding at each of these ideas, which is the second assumption. If assumption one weren't correct, and you didn't feel each idea were equally likely to succeed, you would probably pick the one most likely to succeed. The avocado and pork belly sandwich would clearly be more filling than peanut butter and jelly. Now, if you weren't equally capable of eating each of the sandwiches, that would make your decision easier. If you're choosing between avocado and pork belly and peanut butter and jelly, but you're a strict vegetarian, the decision is easy. Same if you're not a vegetarian, but allergic to peanuts. But since you feel each idea is equally likely to succeed, and you feel you're equally capable of succeeding at all of them, you feel you have too many ideas. As with projects, you may have little information about your capability of succeeding, which is why, for all you know, your capability to succeed is equal across all ideas. We'll untangle that later. Assumption 3: “I can't work on multiple ideas at once” If you feel you have “too many ideas,” you feel they're equally likely to succeed and you're equally capable of succeeding at each of them. If you feel you “must pick one,” you feel you can't work on multiple ideas at once, which is the third assumption. In our sandwich scenario, you've been told you have to pick one sandwich. If there's no one else around and the sandwiches will go to waste otherwise, you might as well taste all the sandwiches, then pick one. Or eat a little of each, until you're full. But, in that case, you wouldn't finish any of the sandwiches. Challenging the assumptions With all three of these assumptions, you're in a deadlock. Your ideas are equally likely to succeed, you're equally capable of succeeding at each, and you must pick one. Well, how can you pick one if they're all equally appealing ideas? There are five questions that can help you challenge these assumptions: What is success? What is my risk profile? What am I good at? What's necessary to succeed? What pain do I pick? Let's look at each of these. Question 1: “What is success?” Success can come in many forms. Maybe you want to make the most money possible. Maybe you want the most freedom possible. Maybe you want to do what you're most passionate about. You may feel each idea is equally likely to succeed, because each idea is likely to get a different kind of success. One sandwich will fill you up, another will taste great, still another seems like the healthy choice. If you have a clearer picture of what forms of success are more important to you than others, your many ideas will no longer be “equally likely to succeed.” Question 2: “What is my risk profile?” Not only can success come in many forms, it can come with various risk profiles. One idea may have a big chance of bringing you mild success. Another idea may have a small chance of bringing you wild success. The overall expected value of each idea may be the same, but the risk profiles may be very different. Some are sure bets, some are wildcards. There are also various things you may risk in pursuing an idea. Mostly, what I call “TOM” – Time, Optionality, and Money. If you are young, healthy, and with no commitments, you have a lot of Optionality, but you might not have much Money. Making enough Money to live may take up much of your day-to-day Time. You can try a crazy idea, so long as it doesn't take up too much Time and Money. If you fail, you'll still have plenty of Optionality. Or, you might want to make some changes that reduce your Optionality, but free up your Time. For example, I live in South America, which limits my options for anything requiring physical presence, but it has reduced my need for Money, thus freeing up my Time. On the other hand, you may be in your sixties, retired after a successful career. You have plenty of Money and Time, but less Optionality than when you were in your twenties. You can only take on so many big projects in the rest of your life, and you may not have the energy you used to. But, you may feel you have nothing to lose by trying a wild idea. If you have a clearer picture of what your risk profile is, not all your ideas will seem “equally likely to succeed.” Question 3: “What am I good at?” Even if all your ideas seem equally likely to fit your definition of success and fit your risk profile, you're probably better at some things than others. If you have a clear picture of what you're good at, the assumption that you're “equally capable of succeeding at each of these ideas” will no longer make sense. It may be that you don't know what you're good at, likely because you don't feel you have information to tell you what you're good at. You probably have more information available than you think. Think about times in the past when someone was impressed with or complimented you on something you did, which came to you naturally. Or, ask your friends what they think you're good at. If you really don't have information on what you're good at, relative to your many ideas, then the third assumption, “I can't work on multiple ideas at once,” no longer makes sense. In this case, you can and should work on multiple ideas, to get an idea what you're good at. If you feel your ideas are too big to work on more than one, scale them back into smaller ideas. Don't fall for “The Fortress Fallacy,” like I talked about in The Heart to Start. Instead of building a fortress, try building a cottage. It's important to remember that what you're good at is not necessarily what you're best at, nor what you most enjoy. This will make more sense as we answer the last two questions that challenge the three assumptions. Question 4: “What's necessary to succeed?” In reality, you probably don't have a clear picture of how likely all your ideas are to succeed, nor how capable you are of succeeding at each. You have to ask of each, What's necessary to succeed? What's necessary to succeed at an idea is usually very different from what attracts you to the idea in the first place. You may love to play music. You may even love to play music in front of an audience. But will you love driving around the country, sleeping in a van, lugging gear, and dealing with curmudgeonly AV techs at each venue? You may love the idea of signing books for adoring fans at the local Barnes & Noble. But will you love sitting in a room by yourself, writing several hours a day? It's worth noting that what most people in a domain think is necessary to succeed may not be. Lots can change in the industry, and changes in the mechanics of media can open up opportunities to succeed without doing some things that were once necessary. For example, thanks to self-publishing, I don't have to write boring book proposals or get countless rejection letters to succeed as an author. Question 5: “What pain do I pick?” You may be really good at what's necessary to succeed at an idea that has a good chance of meeting your definition of success. But there may be some things necessary to succeed that you don't enjoy. That doesn't mean you shouldn't pursue the idea. No matter what you do, there will be some parts of it you aren't crazy about – especially at first. When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was draw. But making a living at drawing as an adult doesn't fit my risk profile, and what's necessary to succeed would interfere with parts of my definition of success: I can't travel if I have to lug around supplies and artwork, and if I do all my work on a computer, then I'm chained to a computer. I didn't used to like to write, but I found out I'm reasonably good at it. Forcing myself to write each morning was painful at first, but through building a writing habit, it's transformed into a strangely enjoyable sort of pain. Additionally, there are parts of making a living writing that I don't like, or at least didn't at first. My first one-star review shook me for days, but now I can brush them off relatively quickly. Same with angry emails from readers. I used to really hate bookkeeping, but now that I write monthly income reports, I actually look forward to tallying up my earnings. Do you really “have too many ideas,” and must you “pick one”? After all this, you may realize you don't have “too many ideas,” and you don't really have to “pick one.” If you don't feel you have enough information to form a clear picture of the odds of success and your capability of success, even after asking these five questions, then you need more information. You get more information not by choosing one idea, but by pursuing many. You'll more clearly see what has a chance of succeeding and what you're capable of succeeding at, and choosing one – or several – will become easy. Image: Stage Landscape by Paul Klee About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email New bonus content on Patreon! I've been adding lots of new content to Patreon. Join the Patreon »       Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/too-many-ideas/

Today I have a special episode for you. If you missed last month's AMA/Livestream, I'm delivering it right to your ears. In this AMA, I answered questions about: What's the best self-publishing platform, and how did I publish 100-Word Writing Habit, non standard-sized, outside of Amazon? Buenos Aires versus Medellín, which is better for mind management? How to pick a creative project when you have too many ideas? What's surprised me most in the past two years? What task management software do I use for mind management? How to focus on one project when you have multiple curiosities? How to keep from falling down a research rabbit-hole? How many half-formed ideas do I have captured somewhere? There are some parts where I refer to visuals, for the best experience, watch on YouTube. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email New bonus content on Patreon! I've been adding lots of new content to Patreon. Join the Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/four-sources-of-shiny-object-syndrome/

Shiny object syndrome can be evidence of a problem, or it can be a normal part of the creative process. If you can identify the four sources of shiny object syndrome, you can tell the difference between being lost, or simply exploring. Three first three sources are problems The first three of the four sources of shiny object syndrome hold you back from finishing projects. They are: ambition, perfectionism, and distraction. Ambitious shiny object syndrome is starting projects that far outpace your abilities and resources. Perfectionistic shiny object syndrome is endlessly tweaking a project that could otherwise be called done. Distracted shiny object syndrome is juggling so many projects, you finish none. Before we get to the fourth source, a bit more about these three most dangerous sources. Ambitious shiny object syndrome You probably have a friend with ambitious shiny object syndrome. One day they proclaimed they were writing an epic fantasy novel. A few months later, they had dropped that and had a new plan: a feature film. A few months after that, they were starting a health-tech startup. All the while, you were shaking your head, because your friend clearly didn't have the experience or resources to take on these projects. They were writing the epic fantasy novel, yet had never written a short story. They were working on the feature film, yet had never made a short film. They were working on the health-tech startup, yet had no experience in technology, the health industry, nor raising funding. Delusional optimism can be an asset. Maybe your friend will get lucky, and one of these projects will click. They're more likely to get struck by lightning. Instead, you know what's coming when you ask how the latest project is going. They've abandoned that, and are taking on something new. Conveniently, your friend always has a great excuse for why. They find a scapegoat: You can't get a million dollars for a feature-film without a rich uncle. They claim to have never been serious about it in the first place: Oh, that silly book? I was just dabbling. More likely, they shift the conversation to another subject: Oh my god, did you see the article about the celebrity! If they had made a public prediction about their potential success in the project, you could hold them accountable. Yet they didn't, so you have to take their word for it. Interestingly, you'll never hear, That was foolish taking on that – I didn't know what I was doing! Perfectionistic shiny object syndrome Or maybe you have a friend with perfectionistic shiny object syndrome. They endlessly tweak a project that could otherwise be called done. The “shiny objects” in this case aren't other projects, but rather details within one project. Your perfectionist friend has one project they've been clinging to for years. Their novel has been through eleven revisions. It started as a memoir, but after becoming an urban-fantasy novel, it's now a thriller. They had a great-looking cover for each of these. But they've changed some details about the plot since the latest world-building workshop they traveled to attend, and they want to try a different cover designer. But before they spend money on another cover, they want to decide whether they're going to publish in places besides Amazon, because that affects the design specs. So they're taking a cohort-based course so they can ask a successful author what she thinks. There's nothing you could tell your friend to get them to ship this project. By now, they could be on their third book, having learned lessons from the previous two. Instead, they've convinced themself it has to be perfect. Distracted shiny object syndrome Or maybe you have a friend with distracted shiny object syndrome. They're taking on projects they could conceivably complete, given their skills and resources. They don't seem to suffer from perfectionism, but you can't tell, because none of their projects get anywhere near the finish line. Instead, once they make a little progress on one project, they switch to another, then another. Once their screenplay is completed for their short film, they start recording demos for their album. Once they've recorded demos for their album, they write their memoir. Once they've finished a draft of their memoir, they're writing a business plan for a non-profit. This “friend” may be you, and it certainly has been me. Shiny object syndrome is difficult to cure, because these sources are often mixed together. You may take on projects that are too ambitious, but also be distracted by the many other projects you're taking on. The perfectionism that is keeping you from shipping one project, may divert you to one overly-ambitious project, or a mixture of smaller projects. The fourth source is only natural Yet there is a fourth source of shiny object syndrome that doesn't have to keep you from finishing projects: Natural shiny object syndrome. Natural shiny object syndrome is the diversions and dead-ends that are a natural part of the creative process. When you're being creative and innovative, by definition, you are going to try some things that don't work, or need to explore new areas with which you aren't familiar. [Projects are like halfpipes.] It's fun and easy to skate into a halfpipe – to start a project. But once you're trying to skate out of the halfpipe, you've run out of momentum. It's more fun and easy to skate into a new halfpipe – to start a new project, or tweak a new aspect of the existing project. But in the natural course of being creative and innovative, you'll also start new halfpipes. When Leonardo da Vinci developed his painting style, he skated into many halfpipes. To accurately depict light and shade in his paintings, he systematically studied the way light traveled through the atmosphere, and interacted with objects. This led him into other fields, such as optics, fluid dynamics, and geometry. Leonardo da Vinci's natural shiny object syndrome In fact, one of Leonardo's most pre-eminent observations in astronomy greatly informed his painting style. He correctly theorized that the light area on the dark side of the moon was created by light reflecting from the sun, off the earth. By understanding how light worked, he was able to make paintings with an unprecedented sense of realism. The “earthshine” caused by light reflecting from the earth is the same phenomenon that causes a lighter area within the shadow on the underside of the chin of the Mona Lisa. That's caused by light being reflected off her upper chest. Okay, so Leonardo had the other sources, too Leonardo of course was an infamous procrastinator. In addition to the natural shiny object syndrome he experienced, he also had shiny object syndrome from the rest of the four sources. He had ambitious shiny object syndrome, such as when, over the course of decades, he failed twice to cast in bronze the largest-ever horse statue. He had perfectionistic shiny object syndrome, such as the fact that he never delivered the Mona Lisa to his client. He instead carried it around fifteen years, until he died, and well after it could have easily been called done. He had distracted shiny object syndrome, which caused him to run around Italy, trying to please his clients in art, architecture, and engineering. Don't fight the fourth source You can do something about most sources of shiny object syndrome. If you have ambitious shiny object syndrome, take on smaller projects. You can use the surround and conquer technique. If you have perfectionistic shiny object syndrome, simply ship your project. Recognize the Finisher's Paradox. Like Maya Angelou said, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.” If you have distracted shiny object syndrome, pick a project, and finish it. Build your shipping skills as you work your way up to larger projects. But even if you clear those sources away, you'll still have to live with natural shiny object syndrome. To connect ideas from disparate fields, you need to wander into them. To find out what works, you have to try some things that won't. Image: Main path and byways, by Paul Klee About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/four-sources-of-shiny-object-syndrome/

Writing a tweet is a microcosm of writing a book. If you think deeply and carefully about every word in a tweet, and what the tweet as a whole communicates, you can extend those skills to all your writing. In this article, I'll break down how to think about every word in a tweet, nearly tripling its performance. Step 1: The first-impression tweet The tweet we'll work on came to me like most tweets, a thought that popped into my head. It was this: Ironically, strong opinions are the ones that are easily argued against. I could have just tweeted that. But I've made a habit of instead writing down my first-impression tweets in a scratch file, and later working on them before publishing. Here's what my thought process looks like. As a tweet, this phrase is a little wordy, and weak. It starts somewhat nonsensically with an adverb: “Ironically.” What action is being performed ironically? Step 2: Improving word economy There are also some extra words that could be cut out. Do we have to refer to “strong opinions” again, by using the word “ones”? The word “that” is often not necessary, and it doesn't seem necessary here. If we cut out all those extra words, we end up with: Strong opinions are easily argued against. Step 3: Adding back in meaning That's shorter, more elegant, and economic. But now it's weaker. It's a simple statement of fact, without presenting what's remarkable about that fact, or how anyone should feel about it. At least when it said, “ironically,” it pointed out the irony that strong opinions are those that are easily argued against. Also, since I've removed the second reference to “strong opinions” by removing the word “ones,” the statement no longer pits “strong opinions” against other types of opinions. Before, I was implying the existence of opinions that weren't strong, and describing what was different about opinions that were. Our shortened statement is also in the passive voice, which makes it weaker. “Strong opinions are easily argued against,” by whom? Who is doing the arguing? It would be more direct to say: It's easier to argue against strong opinions. But still, this statement doesn't pit strong opinions against other types of opinions. Fixing that, we could instead say: Of all opinions, strong ones are easiest to argue against. Finally, I think we at least have an improvement over the original, “Ironically, strong opinions are the ones that are easily argued against.” It's more direct, and pits strong opinions against opinions at-large. It also has the important quality, in tweet format, of delivering the most surprising – or ironic – thing about the statement at the end. There's a bit of misdirection in this statement. We've addressed all opinions, homed in on the strong ones, which primes you to expect them to be lauded in some way. Instead, the statement points out the irony that what makes an opinion “strong” is that it's easy to argue against. Step 4: Tweaking for the audience But this tweet is still not ready. The most glaring problem is, nowhere in the tweet is the term, “strong opinions,” and, as a tweet, that's where its potential lies. “Strong opinions” is a term in the parlance of some sections of Twitter. This term became popular after Marc Andreessen appeared on Tim Ferriss's podcast, where he advocated for, “strong opinions, weakly held.” By trying to be economical with words in our tweet, we've broken apart this term. In our latest iteration, “Of all opinions, strong ones are easiest to argue against,” it's simply referred to as “strong ones.” Depending upon how prevalent the term “strong opinions” is in the minds of our audience members, we could stick with that more subtle hint. Sometimes that's more effective. In my experience, on Twitter, you have to bash people over the head with what you're saying to cut through the noise. So we could instead say: Of all opinions, strong opinions are easiest to argue against. We've replaced “strong ones” with “strong opinions.” It's less economical, but includes the term “strong opinions,” pits them against opinions at-large, and delivers the counterintuitive element at the end, like the punchline of a joke. Step 5: What are we trying to say? This is probably as economically as we can write this, meeting that criteria. But it's still not ready. Now it's not clear from this observation how the author wants us to feel about strong opinions. It's, ironically, not a strong opinion. Is the upshot that you shouldn't hold strong opinions? Is it that when you hold strong opinions, you have to be comfortable with the fact they are easy to argue against? What makes an opinion “strong,” anyway? Is it the force with with which you express the opinion? If so, the statement, “strong opinions, weakly held” would mean you express the opinion with force, but are quick to change it if presented with contrary evidence. Or maybe it means that you should take decisive action on your opinions, and if that action presents you with contrary evidence, you should change your opinion and act accordingly? Now we're starting to get to what I, as an author, really think – which is like an excavation to discover, Where did this idea come from in the first place? My personal opinion is that to hold a strong opinion, you have to be faking. There are few things any of us are qualified to have opinions about. Having a strong opinion is a very “hedgehog” way of being, and hedgehogs are scientifically proven to be wrong. Yet if you express your honest opinion – which is to be more like a “fox” than a hedgehog – you're essentially expressing no opinion at all. Instead, you're exploring thoughts around a potential opinion. Given the mechanics of media today, few who see what you have to say when expressing your fox-like opinion will interact with it. And because few will interact with it, fewer will see it. So in a way, to be fox-like in media is doing oneself a disservice. Your message doesn't get seen, and since nobody can disagree with your non-opinion, you learn less. It's beneficial to masquerade as a hedgehog on social media, but be a fox in your private intellectual life. What's our angle? It's at this point in revising a tweet, where I often step back and write plainly the sub-text of what I'm trying to say. One angle is, In your pursuit of learning, you have to pretend to have strong opinions, because strong opinions are the easiest to argue against – which helps you collect information. Another angle is that When you express a strong opinion, be ready to be disagreed with, because strong opinions are by definition the easiest to argue against. So now I have two potential angles: “You should pretend to have an opinion.” “When you express your opinion, be ready for criticism.” Since this is a tweet, the sub-text of the tweet is very important. Because of the social mechanics of Twitter, people will not like or retweet something that makes them look bad. The “You should pretend to have an opinion” angle is weak, because to retweet something that espouses being inauthentic is to admit to being inauthentic, and that's socially repugnant – even if our angle has merit. Also important, it's not socially-repugnant enough to get people to argue, which would be another way of driving engagement. The “When you express your opinion, be ready for criticism,” angle is somewhat stronger. It would be a small flex to like or retweet this, because it would show that you're a person resilient enough to expose yourself to criticism, a quality which has social clout in some circles. Moving forward with that best angle, in the clearest way possible, we could say: When you share strong opinions, you will be criticized. Because strong opinions by definition are the easiest opinions to disagree with. Besides the fact it's much longer, there's something weak about this tweet. I think it's that it makes strong opinions not look good. Why have them if they're so easy to disagree with? As someone with a fox cognitive style, to me it doesn't feel right. So ultimately it seems, I believe a third angle: “Strong opinions aren't good.” If we put that simply, we're back to “Of all opinions, strong opinions are the easiest to argue against.” That still doesn't express clearly how I feel about strong opinions. It's just a statement of fact. Step 6: Applying rhetoric Maybe we can make this more economical, while also expressing more clearly my feelings about strong opinions, if we use a rhetorical form. Rhetorical forms are time-tested structures in language that add meaning beyond the simple content of the words. “Antithesis” is a good rhetorical form for tweets. Mark Forsyth in The Elements of Eloquence describes antithesis as “X is Y, and not X is not Y.” We won't use that exact formula, which would essentially be “Strong opinions are easy to argue against, and weak opinions are hard to argue against.” Instead, let's pit the word “strong” against its antithesis, “weak” – which is part of why the phrase “strong opinions, weakly held” is so memetic. As it happens, the idea of a “weak argument” is a commonly-used metaphor, so we can add extra power to our phrase by tapping into that existing idiom. With those elements in mind, we end up with: Strong opinions are weak arguments. That's about as good as we can do. We've reduced the phrase from eleven words to only five. It's now clearer what I think of strong opinions, and it presents the irony I wanted to point out in the first place. Was all this work worth it? So, how did this tweet do? I published it, making sure to record a prediction that I was 70% sure it would get fewer than 1,500 impressions (in 48 hours). It actually got 1,081. One month later, I published the unedited tweet I presented at the beginning of this article. I was 70% sure it would get fewer than 1,000 impressions. It got 384. The data suggest that through all that excruciating detail – more than 1,500 words about writing only five – I nearly tripled the performance of this tweet. The tweet still didn't go viral, which isn't the point of thinking of language in this level of detail. The real point of this exercise is that if you make a habit of thinking carefully about language, you internalize much of this process, which makes all your writing better. Image: Flower Myth, by Paul Klee About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/how-to-write-a-tweet/

Every message is shaped by the mechanics of media. Whether it's a tweet, a TikTok video, a news article, or a movie, the characteristics of the medium determine how it's made, how it's consumed, and whether it spreads. If you understand the mechanics of media, you can more effectively communicate in a wide variety of mediums, and protect yourself from being manipulated by media. The message is the mechanics of media As media theorist Marshall McLuhan said, “The medium is the message.” In Understanding Media, he wrote: The medium is the message. This is merely to say that the personal and social consequences of any medium...results from the new scale that is introduced into our affairs.... In other words, it's not the content of the medium we should be worried about, but the way the characteristics of that medium determine its content – the mechanics of media. The five characteristics of media I propose that there are five characteristics present in any medium, which determine these mechanics. These characteristics affect the creation, consumption, and distribution of media. (In other words, what message is delivered, how that message is received, and whether or not that message spreads.) Those five characteristics are: Incentive Sensory Physical Social Psychological The mechanics of media are so complex, these characteristics naturally interact with one another. I'll give a brief introduction of each, then show how these characteristics work in the popular mediums of podcasts, Twitter, and TikTok. 1. Incentive The Incentive characteristics of a medium are sources of motivation, whether money or otherwise, that shape the creation, consumption, and distribution of messages in that medium. The creator of a piece of media is motivated by various incentives, such as money and relationships. Whether or not someone is able to consume a piece of media depends upon whether its affordable or otherwise accessible. Whether or not a piece of media spreads depends upon whether incentives are aligned for the distribution platform to allow it to spread. So, a journalist may be motivated to write a story that gets page views, because that's how they're paid. That's how they're paid, because the newspaper doesn't have paying subscribers and thus relies upon ad revenue. The stories with click-bait headlines spread and get more page views because they increase engagement for the social media platform they're shared on, which increases the social media platform's ad revenue. 2. Sensory The Sensory characteristics of a medium are the ways in which the medium engages senses such as sight, hearing, and touch. Marshall McLuhan wrote about how so-called “sense ratios” were engaged by a medium. Sensory characteristics primarily affect the consumption of the medium, but those effects overlap with creation and distribution. Written content, for example, can be absorbed at a reader's own pace. As Neil Postman pointed out in Amusing Ourselves to Death, the written word is especially well-suited to careful review and comparison, which makes it easier to convey the truth. Audio content can be replayed to be reviewed, but it's more work than simply moving your eyes back over the content. 3. Physical The Physical characteristics of a medium are the ways in which the medium engages the body. The subtitle of Marshall McLuhan's Understanding Media is Extensions of Man. As a medium extends our abilities, it also removes or “amputates” abilities. When you listen to a podcast, your entire body is free to do other things. You may be cooking, showering, or fighting your way to the exit of a crowded subway car. So, audio with dense content may not be absorbed as well as if the same content were printed in a paper book – which can still be read on a subway car, but not likely while walking. Podcasts became distributed more widely as they became easier to download on smartphones, which people physically carry around. 4. Social The Social characteristics of a medium are the ways in which the medium facilitates interactions amongst people. In the age of social media, these interactions affect creation, consumption, and distribution, in concert. Algorithms that drive distribution on platforms such as Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok are designed to distribute a piece of content based upon its engagement. Much of that engagement is social. If you comment on, like, or share a piece of content, that social interaction leads to further distribution. Additionally, the level of privacy involved in consuming or sharing content has social consequences. You may be reluctant to even “like” certain content, for fear of who might see. But you might share the same content with a close friend through a text message – so-called “dark social” – or even a dinner conversation. 5. Psychological The psychological characteristics of a medium are the ways in which a medium interacts with human psychology. Cognitive biases affect the way people interpret a piece of media, and media platforms are designed to exploit these biases. For example, variable rewards make social media platforms habit-forming for both consumers and creators. You never know when you'll find something incredibly valuable during a social media session, and as a creator, you're always checking to see if you've gotten more comments and views. To go back to our example of a journalist paid by the page view, incentives may motivate them or the newspaper at which they work to cover more natural disasters, shark attacks, and terrorist attacks, which grab people's attention as a result of the availability heuristic. Here's a sampling of how these five characteristics shape various mediums. Podcasts 1. Incentive There are two main ways podcast creators make money: either have a lot of listeners and sell sponsorship, or have few listeners, but make money on some kind of “back-end” business. It's very hard to get new listeners for a podcast, for reasons that will be clear when we analyze the other mechanics, so this motivates many podcast hosts to do “swaps,” wherein hosts interview one another on each other's podcasts. 2. Sensory Many listeners listen to podcasts alone, through headphones. Audio can't be rewound as easily as someone can re-read, so the content should present simple ideas with simple language, and storytelling can keep the listener engaged. 3. Physical Listening to a podcast doesn't engage much of your physical body, so listeners may be doing nearly anything while listening. They could be driving, showering, or doing household chores. With AirPods, they could even be hitting golf balls. Listeners may be in distracting situations, so again, the mechanics of the podcast medium lend themselves to simple ideas presented through simple language, and strong storytelling. 4. Social A podcast host makes an intimate connection with a listener because they're often talking right into the listener's ear, often while they're alone. In this way, the host becomes like the internal monologue of the listener. This is part of why there are so many podcasts despite it being so hard to attract new listeners. This intimate connection can attract new customers and clients for high-ticket items, and advertisers are willing to pay a lot per listener, especially when the host reads the ads. It's hard to attract new listeners to podcasts, because podcasts don't lend themselves well to social consumption and distribution. Podcast listeners are usually physically occupied when listening, and unlikely to engage through likes, shares, and comments. These features aren't available in most podcast-listening apps, since podcasts are distributed through decentralized feeds that can be captured by one of many such apps. Podcast content can be several hours long, with the information presented in the disorganized form of a conversation. Even when pieces of a podcast are presented as clips on social media, there are a few formidable barriers to such clips attracting listeners: Editing long-form content to be interesting in short-form is difficult, audio content has trouble competing with other content on social media feeds, and social media is often consumed in contexts in which it's not convenient to download and listen to a podcast. 5. Psychological Podcast producers take advantage of the ways in which audio content can affect the psychology of the listener. Narrative podcasts use music and storytelling to manipulate listeners' emotions and build suspense and engagement. Compelling podcast interviewees know how to talk passionately and persuasively in a way that will excite listeners. Still other podcast hosts deliberately speak in an unpolished way, to make their shows feel more like listening to a friend. Twitter 1. Incentive On Twitter, journalists can build followings, which can help them get more page views, which can help them either get paid more, or not rely on their employers at all. Entrepreneurs can grow their businesses. Writers, such as myself, can test out ideas. People, generally, can be entertained, or feel as if they're heard. Twitter is still primarily an ad-supported platform, so more engagement with the platform means more ad revenue. While I presented above an example of a social media platform presenting articles with click-bait headlines, the incentive characteristics of Twitter also work against this. If you were to click on a link, you would leave Twitter, where you could no longer be served ads. So tweets that are just links get less distribution. 2. Sensory Twitter is primarily text, which is supposed to be the form of media most-capable of communicating the truth. Yet anyone who has used Twitter has noticed there is a lot of sensational content, with lots of arguing and fighting amongst tribes. How can this be? Since Twitter is mostly a collection of snippets of text, which can be easily skimmed, it puts people in a “hunting” mode. Unlike reading a book, where the sensory experience locks you into the progression of ideas presented by the author, on the Twitter timeline, the sensory experience is like scanning the landscape for the gazelle in the grass, or the tiger in the bush. 3. Physical Many Twitter users consume its content on their phones. They're looking at their hands, often slouched over with neck craned downward. This is a posture that makes you more close-minded and negative, as opposed to say, standing up, with a monitor at eye-level, and shoulders back while typing on a split keyboard. Users can be in a variety of settings, such as on public transport, or even crossing the street. On Twitter, consumption and creation can be physically the same, which lends itself to off-the-cuff and often reactionary or poorly-thought-out content. So content creators on Twitter who do the majority of their thinking away from the app, and put intention into their creation process, are essentially practicing attention arbitrage. 4. Social Twitter has followed the lead of platforms such as TikTok, and decoupled the distribution of content from the follower relationship, in lieu of a feed driven by engagement or relevance of topic. Still, the number of followers greatly influences distribution on Twitter. Thus, savvy Twitter creators know they have to be active “reply guys” – replying to tweets on related accounts – until they gain a following. Besides followers and the ever-more-rare retweet, the biggest driver of distribution on Twitter is replies. Therefore, tweets that drive conversation get more distribution. Ironically, if a tweet is clear and factual, it won't get as much distribution as if it is unclear and controversial. So, creators who are either unintelligent in a lucky way, or savvy and machiavellian enough to feign ignorance, see great distribution through “fake takes,” or expressing with great confidence a simplistic opinion people will argue over in the replies. 5. Psychological Almost all activity on Twitter is public by default, so this creates a media environment with a bias toward behavior that's either prosocial or tribal. There can be social consequences for merely following someone or liking one of their tweets. There's a lot of what Timur Kuran calls “preference falsification” on Twitter, to signal that one is part of a tribe. The only characteristic that counters this is that expanding a tweet or media within a tweet is private, so this private engagement can help somewhat the distribution of content people may not be comfortable supporting publicly. TikTok 1. Incentive Many creators are attracted to TikTok because it's a platform where it's possible to have a lot of success very quickly, and seemingly for no good reason. You can get tens of millions of views just dancing in front of your bathroom mirror. TikTok is an ad-supported platform, so the platform distributes content that will overall increase the time spent on the platform. Yet TikTok overall has a more-positive vibe than Twitter. We'll get to why. 2. Sensory If the sensory experience of Twitter puts the viewer into “hunting” mode, the sensory experience of TikTok is more like the campfire. You're not skimming a vast sea of text. Instead, you're immersed entirely in a video – at least for a moment. You're often face-to-face with a person talking. It's harder to get angry with someone when you're looking right at them. This campfire instead of hunting experience makes content on TikTok more positive than on Twitter. But you're not immersed in that video for long. Users can quickly swipe and be immersed in the next video. So, there is a lot of pressure for creators to create content that grabs the attention of the viewer. It's not unusual, when looking at an engagement graph on a TikTok video you've created, to see a note informing you there was a drop in viewership at the one second mark. This is part of why TikTok has a reputation for being all about looks. Indeed their new “Bold Glamour Filter” reshapes women's faces to an astounding degree (yet they still have nothing for my gray beard hairs). 3. Physical TikTok, like all social media, is primarily consumed on a mobile phone. So consumers may be in any of a variety of settings, including highly distracting environments where they don't have control over sound. So, TikTok videos present simple ideas, presented quickly, and videos with captions perform better, as viewers may have audio off. However, there is some incentive for creators to present complex data associated with their simple ideas. If you flash a data-rich graphic in a TikTok video, viewers will try to pause it, which is a signal of engagement for the TikTok algorithm. You'll do even better if the graphic flashes so quickly it can't be paused the first time. The viewer will have to let the video play again, to once again attempt to pause at the right time. For example: @davidkadavy Time multiplying helps you create more time. Credit: Rory Vaden #timemanagement #timemanagementhacks #timemanagementskills #xkcd ? original sound - ???David Kadavy 4. Social Since pausing or rewatching a video signals engagement to TikTok, dance videos have performed well on the platform. Consumers can become creators and post “duets”, in which they perform a dance next to its originator. Of course you have to watch the video many times to get your dance moves right, which signals engagement. This physical bias towards dance videos, helped along by the social characteristics of TikTok, may also contribute to its more-positive vibe. Like anywhere many humans congregate, there is still some negativity on TikTok. But if you're going to be explicitly negative, you're going to have to show your face. Comments are limited to 150 characters. Beyond that, you can make a reply video, a “duet” – such as in dance videos, or a “stitch,” where you place your video at the end of the video you're responding to. 5. Psychological Because simple videos that viewers re-watch get more distribution, videos on TikTok resist the sense of closure humans have been used to since at least the time of Homer. If you summarize what you've covered at the end of a video, your engagement will drop and you'll get fewer views. So videos don't have the satisfying end we're used to. Some creators make their videos “loop,” wherein the final thing said connects to the first thing, which hypnotizes the viewer into watching again. This being an article, it's not bad for me to take the time to present a conclusion. That's my overview of what I believe to be the five characteristics that shape the mechanics of media, and how those mechanics shape the mediums of podcasts, Twitter, and TikTok. The next time you're creating something for a medium, or feeling highly-persuaded by a piece of media, take time to think about the five characteristics that shape the mechanics of media. Image: Painting 1930, by Patrick Henry Bruce Thank you for having me on your show! Thank you for having me on your podcasts. Thank you to Rachel Roth at The Rachel Roth Show. As always, you can find interviews of me on my interviews page. 300 episodes! This is the 300th episode of Love Your Work. Something I haven't asked in years: Can you please rate the show on Apple Podcasts? About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/mechanics-of-media/

Making, recording, and evaluating predictions is a simple way to improve your thinking and decision-making. But the way to properly make and record predictions isn't obvious. In this article, I'll share some predictions I've made, what I've learned, and how you can improve your thinking by making predictions. Making predictions has grown my business Five years ago, I had been running my business for ten years, and it wasn't going great. Then, I started publishing monthly income reports, and along the way, making predictions. My income has nearly doubled, and I attribute much of that success to my habit of making predictions. I began by predicting how much money I'd make in a product launch, and grew to predicting how much traffic articles I had written would gain, and how many copies books I'd written would sell. I now routinely make predictions for things as seemingly mundane as whether I'll enjoy a conference, whether I'll still be publishing on TikTok a year from now, or whether an avocado is ripe. On the surface, making predictions seems like a pointless game. This is, indeed, true of making predictions the wrong way. But making predictions the right way helps you deal with uncertainty you otherwise have no hope of handling. Predictions help you bet your life, better Each of us has limited resources, such as time, money, and mental energy. We're constantly making decisions about how to use these resources, and when we make those decisions, we are expecting outcomes. If we go on this date, will we find the love of our life, or wish we'd stayed in? If we write this book, will we achieve fame and fortune, or feel as if we've wasted years of our life? If we spend an hour on social media, will we make valuable connections, or spiral into self-hatred over our lack of discipline? As Annie Duke, author of Thinking in Bets wrote: In most of our decisions, we are not betting against another person. Rather, we are betting against all the future versions of ourselves that we are not choosing. —Annie Duke, Thinking in Bets Each decision we make is a bet. We bet a resource, and expect something in return. Most of us don't recognize or express the expectations of our bets. But we should. Some bets are clearer than others If you bet a dollar on a coin flip and only win $1.50 for guessing correctly, you'd easily recognize that as an unfair bet: There's a 50% chance of guessing correctly, so you clearly should receive two dollars. But the more variable the odds, and the more vague your wager and winnings, the more difficult it becomes to think clearly. What's the value of finding the love of your life? What other benefits can you get writing a book besides fame and fortune? What are the chances that during this hour of social media you'll make a life-changing discovery? Making objective decisions taking into account all these variables becomes so complicated you might as well throw up your hands, surrender to randomness, and do what feels right in the moment. And that's what most of us do. Case in point: The multi-billion-dollar gambling industry, propped up by people doing what feels right in the moment – their decision-making shrouded by the smokescreen of ever more complex and variable bets. The key to making predictions in a way that helps you evaluate your decisions is to avoid what Annie Duke calls “resulting.” If you wager a dollar on a coin flip, with a chance to win $10, and lose, the result of your decision was bad, but your decision was good. The odds were clearly in your favor. Mathematically, you were sure you'd win that bet one of two times. If you had won, you were going to win ten times your money. Now how do you apply this thinking to more complex and vague situations, such as a product launch, your Saturday night plans, or whether or not your new hobby is a passing obsession? The key is to make a prediction, the right way. How to make predictions the right way There are two components to making predictions the right way. Turn it into a coin flip. Identify the odds. 1. Turn the outcome into a “coin flip” First, turn the prediction into a coin flip. I don't mean in terms of odds, but in terms of result. When you flip a coin, it comes up heads or tails. When you make a prediction about a result, that result must either happen or not. For a prediction to be useful, it has to be falsifiable. This is not easy to do, which is why few of us make predictions the right way, if at all. If you think it's going to rain, in what area will it rain, by what time? Does a single raindrop count? If you think you'll still be doing bird photography in six months, how many bird photos will you have taken, within the previous month? If you think you'll enjoy going to the party, how many good memories will you be able to recall a week later? You can define a successful result in whatever measurable way you want. The important thing is that to make a prediction, you need to turn the result into a coin flip. Not in terms of odds, but in terms of how you define the result. Some actual predictions I've turned into coin flips: My Black Friday promotion will earn $3,000–$6,000. My blog post on Zettelkasten will average worse than a ranking of 10 for the keyword “zettelkasten”, the first three months after publish, according to Google Console. I will sell 5,000–15,000 copies of Mind Management, Not Time Management within the first year. With each of these predictions, I was wagering resources. It took, time, money, and energy to run a promotion, write a blog post, and write a book. But what did I expect from those investments? I could have done any of these without making a prediction. Besides the long-term benefits of making these predictions – which I'll get to in a bit – turning these predictions into coin flips had immediate benefits. Turning predictions into coin flips helps answer these questions: Is this worth doing? By defining a successful result, you're forced to ask yourself if it's worth the investment, based upon your expectations. How will I achieve this? In the process of defining a successful result, you start thinking about why you expect to achieve that result. Do you have prior experiences or past data to draw upon? You'll never search as hard for these as when you're making a prediction. Can I do better? Defining a successful result has a symbiotic relationship with the effort you put forth trying to achieve the result. Making the prediction motivates you to try to make that prediction correct, which sometimes motivates you to predict and try to achieve an even better result. When you flip a coin, you of course aren't sure whether it will come up heads or tails, and when you make a prediction, you aren't sure whether you'll achieve that result. And that is how it should be. 2. Identify the odds The second way to make a prediction the right way is to identify the odds of achieving that result. You've turned the prediction into a coin flip, but it's not necessarily a coin flip with 50/50 odds. It may be more like a die roll, with 1:6 odds, or a roll of four or lower, with 2:3 odds. If you've turned your predicted result into a coin flip by adjusting a range, you can adjust that range according to your expected odds. In this way, if you want to literally turn your prediction into a coin flip, you can pick a range you feel you have 50/50 odds of achieving. For example, I believed I had 50/50 odds of making $3,000–$6,000 on my Black Friday promotion, and of selling 5,000–15,000 copies of my book in the first year. I specifically chose those ranges based upon what I expected to have 50/50 odds of achieving. If your prediction doesn't involve a range, such as whether or not you will regret going to a party, then you simply have to identify your expected odds of that result. For all odds, I think it's easiest to choose a percentage of confidence, such as 50% for 50/50 odds, or 66% for 2:3 odds. For example, I was 70% sure I wouldn't regret attending a conference in Vegas last year. Each of these predictions is for one event. But the result will either be achieved, or not. Therefore, what you felt 70% sure would happen will in retrospect look as if it had 0 or 100% odds of happening. So what is the point of choosing odds for your prediction? There are three benefits of choosing odds: It helps you gain clarity on each decision. It helps you distinguish risky from not-risky decisions. It helps you rate and improve your decision-making, over time. Choosing odds helps you gain clarity First, choosing odds of achieving a result helps you gain clarity on a decision. Let's say you buy your first guitar. Surely you're picturing yourself being a pretty good guitar player someday. But how do you define that, how sure are you you'll become a good guitar player, and how soon? A year later, when your guitar is collecting dust in your closet, you might feel pretty bad about yourself. But suppose that when you bought your guitar you had predicted that you were 50% sure, one year later, you would have practiced guitar at least fifteen minutes in the previous month? Based upon that prediction, it turns out you weren't so sure to begin with that you'd become a good guitar player. Choosing odds helps you distinguish sure bets from wildcards Which brings us to the second benefit of choosing odds, which is that it helps you distinguish risky decisions from not-risky decisions. You took a chance buying a guitar, and it didn't work out. That's easier to live with if you know you were taking a chance. Some of life and business's greatest benefits come from taking chances. But you only have so many resources to gamble with. Professional poker players know they need a certain “bank roll” to stay in the game and keep making bets. If they have a lot of bank roll, they might play a riskier bet than if they have little. They're able to do that because they know the odds. In business, especially creative business, your “sure bets” keep you in business, while “wildcards” can change your business. As you decide how to invest your resources, and evaluate whether you've achieved successful results, you'll make better decisions if you know ahead of time whether you're playing a sure bet or a wildcard. For example, I was 95% sure my Zettelkasten blog post wouldn't rank in the top ten for the search term, so I was clear going into it I was playing a wildcard. Additionally, while I was 50% sure I'd sell 5,000–15,000 copies of my book in the first year, I was 90% sure I'd sell fewer than 250,000 copies, which helped put a ceiling on my expectations. Choosing odds improves your decision-making Which is the third benefit of choosing odds: improving your decision-making over time. If you had been 90% sure you'd've practiced guitar ten hours in a month, you'd still feel bad when it turned out you didn't, but at least you'd have data to learn from. Without that data, you might say to yourself, “I never finish what I start. I'm a loser.” With that data, you can say, “I overestimated my enthusiasm to play guitar. I'll keep that mistake in mind in the future.” Notice you wouldn't tell yourself you were “wrong.” Because you weren't. Even if you were 90% sure you'd've practiced guitar ten hours in a month and didn't, you'd only end up 90% wrong. Which means you were 10% right. When you choose odds of your expected results, it's easier to learn from your mistakes because you're never totally wrong, and always a little right – which makes your mistakes sting a little less. But to get enough data to know how good your predictions are, you need to make a lot of predictions over time. If you don't know the odds of a coin flip, and your prediction turns out wrong, you don't learn a whole lot. But if you make a hundred predictions, you'll end up with a pretty good idea of the odds of that coin flip. Make many predictions with the same odds, for faster calibration The more predictions you make with the same odds, the more quickly you can tell how good your predictions are. I've presented to you examples of predictions I've made with various odds. But whenever possible, I try to choose “coin flips” I believe have a 70% chance of being correct. 70% is an arbitrary level of confidence. What's important is that by making many predictions of which I have 70% confidence, I learn how accurate my predictions tend to be at that confidence level. I've made 19 predictions at 70% confidence. Only 63% of those have turned out correct. By making and tracking many predictions, I've learned that when I'm 70% confident something will happen, it will generally happen only 63% of the time. I'm slightly overconfident at that range, and so should be more conservative with my future predictions. My prediction track-record I keep track of and publicly display many of my predictions on PredictionBook.com, which is one of those totally free websites with no ads that makes you nostalgic for 2007. Because I've made more than fifty predictions, I can see how good I am at predicting at various levels. For example, after fifteen predictions at 90% confidence, 80% have turned out correct. After five at 50% confidence, and five at 60% confidence, those have turned out correct 80% and 100% of the time, respectively. While I should to be more pessimistic about things I'm pretty sure will happen, it seems I should be more optimistic about things I'm not so sure will happen. It turned out the prediction that my Black Friday promotion would earn between $3,000 and $6,000 was correct. Since I was 50% confident, I was half-right, and half-wrong. I did sell between 5,000 and 15,000 copies of my book in the first year. Again, half-right, half-wrong. And the Zettelkasten blog post I was 95% sure wouldn't rank in the top ten, actually did! I was happy to be 95% wrong about that – it was a wildcard that turned out. Making predictions feels unnatural – which is why you do it The next time you're choosing whether something is worth doing, I highly recommend you make a prediction. If turning the outcome into a coin-flip and picking a percentage of confidence feels uncomfortable to you – it should. Thinking in this way doesn't come naturally – which is why it's a superpower. Image: Ghost of a Genius, by Paul Klee About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/make-predictions/

In the midst of the Great Depression, cereal manufacturer Kellogg's switched to a shorter, six-hour day. This continued a trend that seemed inevitable: people would work less and less. But economic policies, management strategies, and cultural attitudes changed. The story of the rise and fall of Kellogg's six-hour day is a microcosm of these changes, as well as of our attitudes about the roles of money, leisure, work, and women and men. In the book, Kellogg's 6-Hour Day, historian Benjamin Kline Hunnicutt shares his findings in studying Kellogg's shorter workday. His main sources of information were 434 interviews conducted by the Women's Bureau of the Department of Labor, 124 interviews he himself conducted of workers, and 241 responses to a survey he had sent. What follows is a summary of the story, and Hunnicutt's findings. Kellogg's switched to a 6-hour day to create jobs During the Great Depression, American businesses took on a policy of “work sharing.” The idea was that fewer would be unemployed if everyone shared jobs – more workers, working fewer hours. So, on December 1, 1930, W. K. Kellogg changed most departments in Kellogg's Battle Creek, Michigan plant from three eight-hour shifts to four six-hour shifts. A shorter workday had seemed inevitable This continued a decades-long trend of shorter working hours. Labor activist William Heighton had written in 1827 that the workday should be reduced from twelve hours to ten, eight, and so on, “until the development and progress of science have reduced human labour to its lowest terms.” John Stuart Mill had written in 1848 about his vision for a “Stationary State”: After necessities were met, people would seek progress in mental, moral, and social realms. John Maynard Keynes would predict in the same year Kellogg's switched to six hours, 1930, that we'd have a fifteen-hour work week by 2030. George Bernard Shaw and Julian Juxley had predicted a maximum two-hour workday by the end of the 1900s. Other businesses shortened their workdays, too Other businesses followed Kellogg's' lead. A survey by the Industrial Conference Board in 1931 estimated 50% of American businesses had shortened hours to save jobs. President Herbert Hoover was considering making a 6-hour day a national policy. In the 1932 presidential campaign, both major parties were advocating shorter hours. The 6-hour day was the hot business topic Not only did the six-hour day help create jobs, it seemed for a while like it was a better business policy. Forbes called it “the topic of discussion in the business world.” Business Week concluded it was profitable. The New York Times called it “a complete success.” Factory and Industrial Management magazine called the six-hour day, the “biggest piece of industrial news since Ford announced his five-dollar-a-day policy.” At Kellogg's, 15% more shredded wheat cases were being packed per hour. Profits had doubled in 1931, versus three years prior. After five years with the six-hour day, overhead costs had been reduced 25%, labor costs 10%, with 41% fewer accidents. W. K. Kellogg said, “We can afford to pay as much for six hours as we formerly paid for eight.” (That should be taken with a grain of salt. W. K. Kellogg took pride in crafting a public image as a “welfare capitalist,” as evinced by the full-page newspaper ads he took out, boasting how Kellogg's had done its part. In reality, nearly half of workers later surveyed recalled that their wages were reduced.) Kellogg's returned to an 8-hour day for WWII In 1943, President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed an executive order to direct the maximum amount of manpower toward supporting the country's fight in WWII. Kellogg's responded in kind by temporarily returning to eight-hour shifts. A rift formed between Kellogg's management and the labor union This was actually an opportunity the company had been looking for. Kellogg's management and that at other companies were beginning to resent the six-hour day, and workers were becoming divided over whether they wanted a shorter workday, or more pay. In 1936, the National Council of Grain Producers had started a union chapter in Kellogg's Battle Creek headquarters. W. K. Kellogg had been proud to pay what he considered the best hourly wages in town. During the first meeting with union officers, he wept, and kept saying, “If only they had come to me, I would have given them what they wanted.” The union got an inch, and wanted a mile After this point, the relationship between Kellogg's workers and management became adversarial. W. K. had left in 1937, after the union came in, and at that point the union leaders had been pushing to not only have a six-hour day, in which they could earn a bonus based upon productivity, but they had also wanted time-and-a-half pay for working more than six hours in a day. Hunnicutt wrote, “More than any other union demand, this position would come to haunt Kellogg workers.” Demanding overtime pay on a six-hour day helped turn management against the shorter workday, and create a rift between workers who wanted higher wages, and workers who wanted shorter hours. In the larger relationship between management and labor, the American Federation of Labor introduced a bill in congress, prohibiting goods produced by workers working more than thirty hours a week from being traded across state lines. Hunnicutt cites this as having shifted the business world's stance on shorter hours from support to opposition. Shorter hours became exploitation, longer hours a reward In 1938, Kellogg's management deepened the divide between six-hour and eight-hour workers by proposing they be allowed to schedule 40-hour weeks during periods of heavy production. Overtime became available instead of a productivity bonus. Senior workers had priority access to overtime, and so they lost interest in the productivity bonus. So in the early 1940s, before the war, worker opinions were shifting to view shorter hours not as a benefit, but as instead an exploitation of workers – making them bear the brunt of fighting unemployment. And Kellogg's was actively campaigning against shorter days, asking workers to consider how much more they would make working eight hours. Human Relations Management saw work as life's center Meanwhile, the business world was shifting from a Scientific Management philosophy to a Human Relations Management philosophy. Scientific Management practitioners were obsessed with efficiency, but Human Relations Management practitioners were more interested in imbuing work with joy and meaning – making work its own reward. The Human Relations Management school envisioned that as work brought satisfaction, engineers and scientists would lead society into an orderly world, where desires met obligations, consumption met production, and work and leisure merged. According to Humans Relations Management, time away from work and consumption was a relic of an illogical past. Instead of work becoming obsolete, giving way to more freedom, work would become the center of life, and help us ascend Maslow's hierarchy. Fewer workers wanted to return to 6 hours After the war, many departments returned to six-hour shifts, but six-hour workers slowly lost their beloved shorter shifts over the following decades. Central to this struggle was how workers viewed leisure. Kellogg's workers had previously voted to essentially “buy” shorter working hours, being paid less overall, in exchange for more leisure time. Employees used their time to improve their homes, go hunting, grow and can food in their gardens, and spend time volunteering in their communities. But slowly, workers became less interested in having time away from work. Leisure was outsourced to mass media One explanation from a worker Hunnicutt interviewed was, people were now outsourcing all things they used to spend time on. One place they were outsourcing to was mass media. Sports had been such serious business amongst Kellogg's employees, they had hired “semi-pro” softball or basketball players to play on the teams. But why watch the company team play, when you can watch pros on television? One former six-hour worker bemoaned that even conversation had been outsourced – to radio, or television talk-show hosts. Shorter hours became seen as weak and feminine The question, Six hours or eight? became a gender issue. Early on, both men and women were interested in six-hour shifts. Three-fourths of men voted for six-hour shifts in 1937, but half of men were working eight hours by 1947. The six-hour departments began to be referred to as “girls' departments,” doing “women's work.” Management also assigned sick and disabled employees to the six-hour departments. Men who chose to work six-hours were labeled “sissies,” “lazy,” or “weird.” Men saw work, not leisure, as a source of control and identity Hunnicutt's interpretation was that men were increasingly seeing work as a place for control and identity – that many hadn't known what to do with themselves after their shorter shifts. They didn't like spending more time at home and being assigned chores by their wives, or hearing what they considered gossip. As a result, men placed more importance on working longer hours – or at least appearing to. Hunnicutt said men he interviewed commonly claimed to have gotten second jobs while they were working six hours. How often is “commonly”?, he doesn't say, but he points out only 35% ever did get second jobs. Men felt they “had to” work long hours This attitude, which we might today call “toxic masculinity,” extended into attitudes about leisure. When asked why they preferred longer hours, men spoke of necessity, and used dramatic language, saying they had to “keep the wolf from the door,” “feed the family,” and “put bread on the table.” When Hunnicutt pointed out to men who had been working in the 1950s that workers in the Great Depression had been willing to take pay cuts to have more free time, he says they got defensive, lectured him on “the facts of life economically,” called six-hours “nonsense” or a “pipe dream,” or dismissed the question as silly. While Hunnicutt's conclusions here are plausible, it seemed like he really wanted it to be true, and didn't present men's attitudes scientifically. There's no mention of what earnings were relative to cost-of-living, and no acknowledgement of what these men's roles might have been, truthfully, in the economics of their homes. There's not even a mention of how throwing thousands of young men into the meat grinder that was WWII, tasked with saving the world, might have affected their own perceptions of what was expected of them. Though he did present a story of one man who had found that the extra money he made going back to eight hours was due to his ex-wife, as alimony. A shorter workday became “a sexist ploy” In the 1970s, Kellogg's women worked with a local women's-rights group, who presented the case that six-hour shifts were a sexist ploy meant to subjugate women. They demanded management “allow” women to have “full-time” jobs. Kellogg's posted notices in the plant claiming that to make pay “comparable,” they were opening up eight-hour departments to women. In doing so, they skirted the issue: The activists had wanted not just comparable hours, but comparable hourly pay. The 6-hour mavericks held on Workers who stuck with the six-hour shift – who Hunnicutt calls “six-hour mavericks” – were about a quarter of the Kellogg's workforce from 1957, into the 1980s. The union worked according to a department-by-department vote on the length of the day, so long as the six-hour workers didn't interfere with the union majority's strategy to try to get higher wages and more benefits. With longer hours, efficiency fell by the wayside Overtime had previously been thought of as a penalty to the company for being understaffed, but it became a way for workers to earn more money while the company's staffing requirements remained flexible. According to Hunnicutt, with overtime instead of productivity bonuses, workers were less-motivated and careful. The company had to resort to being more controlling, motivating workers with fines, threats, and firings. The death of the 6-hour shift The increased benefits the union had fought for over the years may have worked against the six-hour shift. The final nail in the coffin was driven in 1984, when Kellogg's threatened to relocate if workers didn't vote to abandon the six-hour shift. So the six-hour workers gave in and voted to give it up. Some retired, some worked eight hours, but the coffin in which this nail was driven was both figurative and literal. The six-hour workers held a “funeral,” building a full-sized cardboard coffin, painted black, placed on the workroom floor, a cut-out skeleton placed inside. Thus reversed a trend that had held on for over 150 years. The idea of less work and more leisure gave way to a stable amount of work, and more consumption. It's tempting to blame the death of the 6-hour shift on one of many juicy narratives. You could say people forgot how to spend their leisure time. You could say people were overly-materialistic, and wanted more money, instead of time. You could say toxic masculinity and a patriarchal society tipped the scales so those who wanted to work shorter hours were no longer in the majority. You could say the unions got too demanding and sabotaged the long-fought battle for a shorter working day. All these are probably true to an extent. Ultimately, businesses want to, need to, maximize profit. They have to offer benefits to employees to stay competitive. To offer those benefits profitably, they need more work from fewer workers. If you believe the efficient-market hypothesis, if a shorter workday were indeed more profitable, some business would beat its competitors by offering one, and other businesses would follow suit. So far, that hasn't happened. If, as I believe, creativity becomes more important, productivity will be about [Mind Management, Not Time Management, and a more-relaxed work schedule will be embraced. But probably not for boxing corn flakes. There's your summary of Kellogg's 6-Hour Day This episode is essentially a summary of the book, Kellogg's 6-Hour Day, by Benjamin Kline Hunnicutt. The book is very dense and written in an academic style, so I can't recommend it unless you really want to dig deep into questions about work and leisure. It's a provocative story that makes you wonder if we could be living in a world where a 6-hour day is standard. But it sounds like it wasn't even close. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/kelloggs-6-hour-day/

Desire paths are trails left on the ground, by anything that frequently travels along a route. There are subcultures fascinated by desire paths as symbols of collective wisdom, disregard for authority, or mere evidence of existence. Desire paths are also celebrated as a design technique. Desire paths in their pure form are about what you can see, but the characteristics of desire paths – which you can't always see – can help you optimize your life and gain clarity in your creative projects. Desire path examples Desire paths are also known by a number of other names: cattle trails, cow paths, elephant paths, just to name a few. In forests or grassy meadows, it seems pretentious to call them desire paths – they're just paths. Desire paths that question authority Desire paths are most interesting when they show up in places where a man-made path has already been put in place. A sidewalk turns a corner at a ninety-degree angle, but as people cut the corner, a desire path develops at forty-five degrees. An overgrown hedge encroaches on a sidewalk. To avoid squeezing between the hedge and a tree, people walk off the sidewalk and around the tree, and a desire path develops. A landscape architect tries to get fancy by building a curved path, but people instead take a straight path, and a desire path cuts through the grass. These desire paths that eschew the suggestions of man-made paths are like visual jokes that show a disregard for authority. Desire paths that acknowledge existence But some desire paths acknowledge the existence of a single being. A dog leaves a desire path where he's cut across the yard a thousand times. A woman leaves a desire path where all summer she's walked off the end of a dock, into the shallow water, to the shore of a lake. When a single being who has left a desire path passes away, the desire path remains as a reminder of their existence. The thought of nature reclaiming the desire path – for example, the grass growing back – is a sad reminder of how long they've been gone, and a reminder one day we'll be gone, too. But the being doesn't even have to be a living one. Delivery robots have left desire paths, their tire tracks marking the sidewalk with GPS precision. Desire paths as a design technique The most striking thing about desire paths is they can be used as a design technique. As I said, desire paths are like visual jokes that show a disregard for authority. They poke fun at civilization's feeble attempts to plan, make decisions for others, or control people. Sometimes “authority” surrenders to the crowd and lets desire paths do the decision-making for them. University campuses are often full of desire paths. With so many students migrating from one of many buildings to one of many other buildings, there's no way to predict what routes exactly will be the most efficient. So some schools, such as Ohio State University, held off on creating paved paths. Once the desire paths showed up, they then paved on top of them. The result is a latticework of criss-crossing paths, of varying widths, that no single human would have designed. Desire paths aren't always good But sometimes “authority” has a good reason for building a path that seems inefficient. On the leading subculture of desire-path enthusiasts – Reddit's desire paths community – parks planners have explained that nature trails often have switchbacks going back and forth across steep inclines, because such a design prevents soil erosion. When people cut across these switchbacks, hiking directly up the hill, they hasten erosion. Additionally, desire paths express the desires of the majority. Sometimes the path expressed by desire paths don't work for people in the minority. That curved path that looks like the result of a landscape architect gone wild might soften the incline for people in wheelchairs – and how does that work out when path installation is delayed until desire paths form? Ultimately, people are going to tend toward their desires to get to their destinations quickly. Whatever practical reasons “authority” has for designing a path, the wisdom carried by desire paths can't be ignored. The power of invisible desire paths Desire paths, in their pure form, are about what you can see. It seems the use of desire paths in design projects originated with analyzing data you can't see. A 1942 transit study in Detroit charted origins and destinations of commuter trips, to determine where best to build roads. If you break the phenomenon of desire paths down to its essential components, you can find desire paths you can't see, and harness their power to optimize your life and achieve clarity in creative projects. When used as a design technique, a desire path essentially does four things: A good-enough solution Collects data Exposes a pattern in the data Which leads to an ideal solution The unmodified ground is a good-enough solution people can use. Through the usage patterns of that good-enough solution, data builds up. Each footprint is a piece of data. The footprints don't overlap, all in the same place. Instead, a pattern emerges, in the form of a path. That pattern is then used to determine an ideal solution. In the case of a college campus, that ideal solution is usually a paved sidewalk where the desire path once was. 1. Start with a prototype When a desire path forms, the untreated ground is essentially a prototype. So to create an invisible desire path, build or find a prototype. Find a low-cost, low-commitment way to give yourself a good-enough solution. For example, if you're looking for the perfect backpack, you could take the top-down approach that desire paths so often protest: You could plan out everything you want your backpack to hold and do, then design a custom backpack. Or, you could start with a prototype: Buy any cheap backpack at a thrift store, and try it out. 2. Collect data Desire paths collect data based upon use of a prototype. Once you have a good-enough solution, you're collecting data as you use it. With your cheap backpack, maybe you notice the straps gets loose, or dig into your shoulder. Maybe a pen falls out of it, or you find yourself rummaging through a big compartment full of small items. 3. Look for patterns Desire paths collect data, but that data is only useful once a pattern emerges. When a desire path forms, you can see it, but when an invisible desire path forms, you can't. After enough time using your prototype, individual bits of data turn into patterns. Maybe a pen fell out of your cheap backpack only once and you fixed the straps so they didn't loosen anymore, but the strap kept digging into your shoulder and you got sick of rummaging through a compartment full of small items. You've found your invisible desire path: You want a backpack with comfortable straps, and lots of small compartments for small items. 4. Find a solution When desire paths are used as a design feature, the visible path becomes the backbone of the solution. The designers simply pave a path over the desire path. Once you've found an invisible desire path, that becomes the backbone of your solution. Now that you've used a prototype enough times for patterns to emerge, you can find a solution that fits those patterns. Desire paths in creative projects Now how can invisible desire paths help you gain clarity on creative projects? Creative projects are a lot like choosing a backpack: You have a variety of requirements and preferences, not all of them are clear, and many contradict one another. There's no one perfect solution, but there's some ideal solution that balances everything. Too often, we approach creative projects thinking top-down: We don't want to act until we have the perfect plan. But the perfect plan doesn't exist. The best way to find an ideal plan is create an invisible desire path: Find a good-enough solution, collect data, and see what patterns emerge. Only then can you quickly and efficiently get where you're going. Thank you for having me on your show! Thank you for having me on your show. Thank you to Ajay Mathur at the Be Yourself show. As always, you can find interviews of me on my interviews page. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/desire-paths/

The term, “vulnerability” has spread into realms where it's not an accurate description of what's going on. The case for being vulnerable often doesn't make sense. In the creative realm – and possibly in others – we should pursue something beyond vulnerability. When I wrote about vulnerability to my Love Mondays newsletter, saying some of what I'm about to say, I got a lot of pushback. In the current – and what I believe to be incorrect – parlance, some might say I had made myself vulnerable. I don't agree. I'll build up to why in the course of examining the vulnerability movement. I'll try to keep this organized, so that if you disagree with my line of thinking, it's easier to identify where. It's hard to talk about vulnerability in an organized way, because the more the term is abused, the more vague its definition gets. Vulnerability means “open to harm” Let's start by defining vulnerability. In the most basic terms, vulnerability means, “open to harm.” If you want to be more technical and specific, “open” in this case doesn't mean “inviting” harm, but rather “susceptible” to harm. Now I'll paraphrase some examples of how vulnerability is espoused in the current movement: “Be vulnerable at work. If you need help, don't be afraid to ask.” “Be vulnerable in relationships. Share your feelings, even if it means you might be rejected.” “Be vulnerable in your writing. Share your struggles.” (Anyone familiar with my work might be surprised to hear me tee up this last one.) I don't deny that a person might feel vulnerable in these situations. I'm not convinced they are vulnerable. I'm definitely skeptical that striving to be or even feel vulnerable is helpful. Emotional harm is the most-subjective harm If being vulnerable is being open to harm, to understand vulnerability we have to define what harm is. There are many types of harm, but I think most are covered in three categories: physical, economic, and emotional harm. Physical harm is the least-subjective realm of harm. Yes, people might perceive their physical wounds differently, and someone can have physical pains with an emotional cause, but for the most part, you can measure physical injury. Economic harm is slightly more-subjective. If you lose your job in a flourishing modern economy, you won't necessarily have scars, such as if you experienced physical harm. You may ultimately be better off. Emotional harm is almost entirely subjective. What seems like emotional harm to one person may not to another. Some can't stand to be looked at by a stranger. Others don't care if someone criticizes them. Importantly, what causes emotional harm to a person when they're inexperienced in a realm may not – later, to that same person – cause emotional harm after they become experienced in that same realm. More on that later. The vulnerability movement: “Be vulnerable, and benefit” Now that we've defined vulnerability as “open to harm,” and identified most harms as physical, economic, or emotional, let's try to identify the case being made for vulnerability by the vulnerability movement. When I say vulnerability movement, I'm not talking about any one person, but rather my perception as a very-confused outsider, trying to make sense of the conversations being had about vulnerability in TED talks, on social media, on podcasts, and at cocktail parties. As far as I can understand, the pitch of the vulnerability movement is, “be vulnerable and benefit.” To paraphrase, using the prior examples from work, love, and art: “If you need help at work, ask for it. You risk looking like you don't know what you're doing, but you and your team will perform better.” “Be the first in a relationship to say, ‘I love you.' You risk rejection, but otherwise you'll have a deeper relationship.” “Share your struggles in your writing. People may laugh at you, but your words will help others.” To be clear, I think these actions can be wise. But I don't believe they're objectively vulnerable, and you don't have to make vulnerability a goal – and maybe you shouldn't make vulnerability a goal – to catalyze these actions. These are all cases to “be vulnerable and benefit.” To be vulnerable is to be open to harm. If you ultimately benefit from an action, were you vulnerable – were you open to harm – in the first place? Is it vulnerability if it needs boundaries? Some might say, Well, you don't know the outcome of these actions in advance, so you're risking harm by taking them. Yet anyone who speaks intelligently about vulnerability rightly says it should come with boundaries. A CEO shouldn't freak out about the potential fate of the company, in front of employees and shareholders. You shouldn't spend your first date complaining about your ex. You shouldn't share your struggles with depression in writing a user manual for a Bluetooth speaker. Too much vulnerability is oversharing. So, according to the movement, vulnerability should be a calculated risk, one you're likely to benefit from, and one that isn't likely to ruin you. Don't seek vulnerability, seek ideals It seems to me the case being made for vulnerability is in pursuit of important ideals, including but not limited to truth, security, and alignment. The more we're honest at work, the more effective we can be in an efficient marketplace. The more we share our feelings in our relationships, the more secure we feel. The more of our true selves we put into our art, the more it resonates with others. “Fear” is the word you're looking for I think a better term for what we experience in pursuit of these ideals is “fear.” Fear is a feeling of discomfort in the face of perceived danger. Fear can be irrational. The perceived danger can be entirely in your head. Some people experience fear just looking at a spider that has no chance of physically harming them. Some people experience fear looking at birds. Valid vulnerability isn't the type being promoted I've ventured into unfamiliar territory thinking about vulnerability and putting together this critique. I found many areas where truly being vulnerable resulted in benefits, such as in combat, activism, and workplace inclusion. True vulnerability, it seems, is the product of power, and people sometimes have to be vulnerable to dissolve that power. These areas are outside the scope of this short critique. Besides, I haven't come across much chatter in the vulnerability movement that makes cases for vulnerability in these valid areas. But aren't I a “vulnerable” writer? One area I am very familiar with is creative work. Some readers have described some of my work as “vulnerable.” I've written about the death of my mother, the death of a lover, and published a conversation about grief. I've listed my failures and published my private doubts in my pursuit of a career as a writer. I've written about my health struggles in graphic detail, and shared my struggles with moving to another country. I've been publicly reporting my income for years, starting when it was even less-impressive than it is now. I'm further critiquing vulnerability in this article, even though I got angry emails in response to my short newsletter on the topic. Was I, am I, vulnerable in creating these things? I don't think so. Am I risking physical harm? Not likely. Economic harm? I don't think so. Emotional harm? That's not up to someone else to decide. What looks like “vulnerability” is “antifragility” Have I ever felt vulnerable writing these things? In retrospect, I guess I did. More accurately, I felt fear. Because I was not vulnerable. I benefitted greatly writing these things. I grew, and got to know myself. I found my voice and got closer to doing work that comes from my core. It was all real and came from an authentic place, but I grew my business in the process. I took calculated risks, and I got better at calculating along the way. I thought that by writing public income reports, I would improve my thought processes and grow my business – I did. I thought that having a public conversation about grief would help me live with it – it has. I thought that by writing about my mysterious health issues, readers would send me ideas that would help me get better – they did. I'm not claiming to be Galileo or Harvey Milk, which is kind of the point – their work made them objectively vulnerable. But I know I've never set out to deliberately be vulnerable. I've set out to face fears, because I believed they were irrational. Somewhere along the way, I stopped being scared. What once felt like fear morphed into excitement to see what would happen – to see if this action would take me closer to truth, security, and alignment. Vulnerability as a boundary, not a beacon Now that I've been at it a long time, if I were to feel vulnerable, I would see that as a boundary, not a beacon. That would be a warning sign that I'm oversharing, and needlessly putting myself in danger. That's one problem with espousing the pursuit of a subjective feeling: Being afraid is not the same as being vulnerable. The more experienced you get – in work, love, or art – the more adeptly you can recognize when you really are vulnerable, and decide it's a good idea to stop. Performative vulnerability is a slippery slope When I wrote about this in my newsletter, some readers said they had been in communities where appearing vulnerable became a sort of contest. People seemed to be oversharing just to outdo one another. That's another problem with espousing the pursuit of a subjective feeling: If vulnerability is the goal – whether that's being, feeling, or appearing vulnerable – you incentivize vulnerability. The definitions and the actions fitting those definitions tumble over one another down a very slippery slope. Vulnerability can be a productive lie Sometimes we tell ourselves productive lies. You can commit to working for ten minutes, knowing you'll keep going once you've reached that goal. You can give yourself permission to suck – notice that's “permission,” not “directive” – knowing you'll improve or do better than you had expected. Maybe the pursuit to feel vulnerable is a productive lie. It teaches you to face your irrational fears. But at some point you hopefully grow beyond vulnerability – where feeling vulnerable is a sign of danger. There are cases where danger – true vulnerability – is worth the risk, but that's only because the ideals you're pursuing are worth that much. What looks like vulnerability is a byproduct, not a goal Choosing your actions with vulnerability as a goal is like building a boat designed to splash water. Boats splash water because they're traveling to a destination. You feel or even are vulnerable in the pursuit of something more important. A boat designed to splash water won't travel as efficiently as a boat designed to go somewhere. I believe that a person designing their actions to feel vulnerable won't be as effective as a person driven to pursue an ideal. That's what lies beyond vulnerability. Image: Error on Green, Paul Klee Thank you for having me on your podcasts! Thank you for having me on your podcasts. Thank you to Brilliant Miller at The School for Good Living podcast. As always, you can find interviews of me on my interviews page. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/beyond-vulnerability/

The Prince is a political treatise, written by Niccolò Machiavelli, first distributed in 1513. It's infamous for its apparent advice to political leaders to lie, murder, and manipulate. It's still a fascinating read today, and is thought-provoking when considering any context where the true motives of actions may not be what they seem. Here, in my own words, is a summary of Niccoló Machiavelli's, The Prince. Is The Prince advice, satire, or sabotage? Machiavelli wrote The Prince while in exile from Florence. Since he opens it with a letter to Lorenzo d'Medici it seems like Machiavelli was trying to get a political position with the Medici, by demonstrating his political knowledge. (The Medici had recently returned to power in Florence, after themselves being exiled fifteen years.) But, some scholars think The Prince is satire. Others think the advice within was a ploy, in that if it were followed, the actions would weaken the power of the Medici. “The ends [justified] the means,” in Renaissance Italy Though the phrase isn't in the book, The Prince is the origin of the saying, “the ends justify the means.” In other words, if you have an important goal, morality doesn't matter. It's also the inspiration for the name of the personality trait of “Machiavellianism”, which is characterized by manipulativeness, insensitivity, and an indifference to morality. Psychologists include Machiavellianism in the “dark triad” personality traits, along with narcissism and psychopathy. Sixteenth century Italy was the perfect environment for advice like that in The Prince to flourish. There was constant conflict amongst small governing bodies, including the most-notable city-states of Florence, Milan, Rome, Naples, and Venice. Additionally, there were frequent invasions by Spain, France, or the Holy Roman Empire. If the numerous examples Machiavelli cites in The Prince are any indication, if you didn't lie, murder, and manipulate, you wouldn't stay in power, and probably would be murdered yourself. You don't have to be Machiavellian to learn from The Prince As you listen to this advice, it's not hard to think of similar, less-violent situations in our everyday lives, as we build relationships and careers, or watch others vie for power. So what is some of this juicy advice that has made The Prince and Niccolò Machiavelli so infamous? I'll break down this summary into two sections, followed by some historical examples Machiavelli cites, peppered with some quotes. Those two sections are: Gaining power Retaining power (Note this isn't how Machiavelli organizes The Prince.) 1. Gaining power First how to gain power. Machiavelli points out that the people within a state are eager to change rulers. People naturally expect change to improve their lives, so, they're willing to join in armed resistance against the ruling power. This attitude extends from the people, to other states. If a powerful foreigner invades a country, the states within want to help overturn the rule of the most-powerful state. But you have to be careful. It's normal to want to acquire more land, but when you try to do it by any means possible, you end up making dumb mistakes. How this applies to other domains As you hear this, you may already have some parallels to other domains bouncing around in your head. How many times have you bought a product just slightly different from one you already had, because you believed the change would make your life better? Marketers take advantage of this. I've read one marketing book that advised to think of the product you're marketing as a “new opportunity.” Changing leadership is a “new opportunity,” that temporarily makes you optimistic, like how we feel when a New Year comes around. But often, the new product, the new ruler, or the New Year doesn't make your life better. We get stuck in a cycle of wanting change and striving for it, only to find we aren't better off than before, which drives our desire to change once again. This is why, to quote Machiavelli: There is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success, than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things. Because the innovator has for enemies all those who have done well under the old conditions, and lukewarm defenders in those who may do well under the new. —Niccolò Machiavelli The Prince In other words, you might get short-term support in the change you're trying to introduce, but the support you once had will soon wane, and those who were doing well before will try to overthrow you. 2. Retaining power This brings us to the second section, about retaining power. Being able to retain power starts with choosing carefully where and how you gain power. This is why Machiavelli warns: He who has not first laid his foundations may be able with great ability to lay them afterwards, but they will be laid with trouble to the architect and danger to the building. —Niccolò Machiavelli The Prince Any new state is extremely fragile, unless the person who unexpectedly gained power over that state is highly-skilled. You can gain power by getting the help of the people, or other states, but whoever helped you will probably be disappointed in what they get from it, and will no longer want to help you. Be especially careful not to make your allies much more powerful, because then they'll become threats. Additionally, they'll distrust you, because in the process of helping them, they saw how cunning you are. So, if you're invading a place, you want to be on the good side of the natives. However, if they're used to being free, you'll have to destroy them, or they'll destroy you. As Machiavelli said: Men ought to either be well treated or crushed, because they can avenge themselves of lighter injuries, of more serious ones they cannot. —Niccolò Machiavelli The Prince In other words, if they're dead, they can't get revenge. And: He who becomes master of a city accustomed to freedom and does not destroy it, may expect to be destroyed by it. —Niccolò Machiavelli The Prince If you want to retain power in a new state, you need to start a colony there. You don't have to spend a lot on the colony, because after you take the land and houses of people, they will be, “poor and scattered,” and can't hurt you. It's important to be in the place you're ruling, because otherwise you don't find out about things that go wrong until it's too late to fix them. Statecraft is a lot of work, because, as Machiavelli says: He who has relied least on fortune is established the strongest. —Niccolò Machiavelli The Prince How this applies to other domains Some of this advice may resonate with situations you've experienced. Some of it may be horrifying to you. Here's how it can apply to other domains. Imagine you're a CEO, and you've just acquired a new company. It's best to get it right the first time. If you make mistakes, you'll have a hard time leading the company. When a company acquires another, or a new leader comes into a company, you often see layoffs right away. This mirrors Machiavelli's related advice, which is: Injuries ought to be done all at one time, so that, being tasted less, they offend less; benefits ought to be given little by little, so that the flavor of them may last longer. —Niccolò Machiavelli The Prince If done according to Machiavelli's advice, after the brutal layoffs, there will be ice-cream socials, team-building exercises, and bonuses scattered over the coming months and years, hopefully without more massive layoffs. Whoever is in charge had better have close oversight to an office that's far away from headquarters, otherwise by the time you find out about problems, it's too late to fix them. How not to rule: King Louis XII A leader who Machiavelli uses as a warning for not ruling well is King Louis the XII, of France. The Venetians brought in King Louis, because they wanted to seize half the state of Lombardy. But they later realized, they had helped make Louis king of two-thirds of Italy. Louis was now well-positioned, but then his mistakes began. He helped Pope Alexander occupy the Romagna, divided the kingdom of Naples with the king of Spain, and turned around and tried to conquer Venice's territories. So, he weakened the minor power of Venice, losing their alliance, made a great power – the pope – even more powerful, and brought in a foreign power – Spain. He didn't settle in the land he had conquered, and didn't set up colonies. How to rule: Cesare Borgia Like Louis XII when the Venetians enlisted his help, Cesare Borgia came into power through fortune. Unlike Louis, he made what Machiavelli felt were wise decisions. Cesare was the son of Pope Alexander VI, who himself was cunning. He wanted to give Cesare a state to rule, but there weren't good options. For example, the Milanese or the Venetians would stop him, and anyone in Italy who might have helped knew better than to make the pope even more powerful. When the Venetians brought the French into Italy, Alexander didn't make a fuss, and even helped Louis out by dissolving his marriage. He provided some soldiers to help out in a military campaign in Romagna, and now his son, Cesare was the duke of Romagna. But Cesare wasn't thrilled with his military. The Orsini soldiers didn't seem psyched to take Bologna, and when he attacked Tuscany after taking over Urbino, Louis made him stop. So Cesare decided to figure out how to do things on his own. Cesare Borgia followed Machiavelli's advice (somewhat literally) Anywhere Cesare took power, he was sure to kill the nobles and their families. He weakened the Orsini and Colonna parties in Rome, by making them nobles and giving them a good salary. Then he brought in a Spaniard named Ramiro d'Orco (also known as Ramiro de Lorca) to govern the Romagna. The Romagna had been in disorder when Cesare took over, and d'Orco restored order, but through nasty means, using lots of torture, public executions, and fines. Once d'Orco had cleaned things up, Cesare – according to Machiavelli – didn't want to be associated with d'Orco's reign of terror. So, he had him publicly executed, and put his head on a stick in the town square. Machiavelli was an advisor to Cesare during this time, and felt that Cesare did almost everything right to make the best of the power he had gained through fortune, and lay a foundation that could withstand the inevitable death of his father, the pope. Machiavelli says: He told me that he had thought of everything that might occur at the death of his father, and had provided a remedy for all, except that he had never anticipated that, when the death did happen, he himself would be on the point to die. —Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince (on Cesare Borgia) When the pope did die – sooner than expected – Cesare himself was nearly dead from malaria. Though he won the favor of the next pope, Pius III died after only twenty-six days. Machiavelli felt Cesare's one mistake was then helping elect Pope Julius II, who had promised him favors in return. As Machiavelli says: He who believes that new benefits will cause great personages to forget old injuries is deceived. —Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince Cesare had slighted Julius in the past, and he wasn't going to forget that. Julius seized land from Cesare, and didn't support him. You can see a dramatization of the story of Pope Alexander and Cesare Borgia in Showtime's excellent-but-incomplete series, The Borgias. The Prince, today Machiavelli's advice – if it really is that – sounds brutal to modern ears, but it was a product of the reality of the time. Machiavelli was the only one brave enough – maybe desperate enough – to describe that reality. In many areas of life, business, and politics, the true effects of actions are often more complex than they appear on the surface. Sometimes this is an accident, many times it's deliberate. Why does a politician, a CEO, or a even a friend say what they say? I'm almost tempted to list The Prince on my best media books list, because the effect of a piece of media is always deeper than it appears on the surface. Political leaders in sixteenth-century Italy influenced perceptions through public events that could be described as media. You could say Cesare Borgia's public execution of Ramiro d'Orco was a pseudo-event. If so, Ryan Holiday's Trust Me, I'm Lying is like a modern day, The Prince: exposing the fundamentally-ugly reality of how a complex and brutal system that affects public perceptions works. Why Machiavelli's exile wasn't lonely Lest you have a low opinion of Niccolò Machiavelli from the content in The Prince, I want to leave you with something more endearing about him. When the Medici returned to power, they suspected Machiavelli of conspiring against them, so had him jailed and tortured – a decent reason to believe The Prince may have been satirical or, fittingly, a Machiavellian gambit to cause the Medici harm. Exiled to his farm estate, and stripped of his position as a political advisor, Machiavelli did his best to keep doing the work he loved, and retain a sense of dignity. In a letter to a friend, he described his daily ritual: When evening comes, I go back home, and go to my study. On the threshold, I take off my work clothes, covered in mud and filth, and I put on the clothes an ambassador would wear. Decently dressed, I enter the ancient courts of rulers who have long since died. There, I am warmly welcomed, and I feed on the only food I find nourishing and was born to savor. I am not ashamed to talk to them and ask them to explain their actions and they, out of kindness, answer me. Four hours go by without my feeling any anxiety. I forget every worry. I am no longer afraid of poverty or frightened of death. I live entirely through them. —Niccolò Machiavelli, Letter to Francesco Vettori There's your summary of Niccolò Machiavelli's The Prince If you enjoyed this summary, I highly recommend you read Niccolò Machiavelli's The Prince. There's also an excellent free online annotated version online, called The Annotated Prince. Thank you for having me on your podcasts! Thank you for having me on your podcasts. Thank you to David DeCelle for having me on The Model FA podcast. As always, you can find interviews of me on my interviews page. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/the-prince-niccolo-machiavelli-summary/

Which would you rather have? Mild success, or wild success? Most of us would prefer wild success. But we pursue mild success. And you can't have one when you're going for the other. The struggle of an aspiring novelist A more specific version of the scenario I mentioned in episode 253: Imagine you're working at Starbucks during the day, and at night you're writing novels – not just any novels, but your favorite kind. You call it Care Bear Fanfic Urban Fantasy. As far as you know, you're the only person who writes Care Bear Fanfic Urban Fantasy. Judging by your sales, you're also the only person who reads it. You've written three novels in this genre you've created, and there have been hardly any sales, aside from the handful of copies you've sold to your mom and close friends. After a couple years writing and promoting your Care-Bear novels, you decide it's time for a change. You told yourself when you started writing that as soon as you made as much as your Starbucks job, you'd quit and write full-time. You're not even close. Your hourly Starbucks wage isn't great, but you've actually lost money writing your three novels, after investing in cover designs and some ads. A new opportunity Fortunately, one of your friends is a pretty successful author. She makes a middle-class living writing in a genre called Sweet Romance – mostly read by retired women, some of whom read a new Sweet Romance novel every day. You buy your friend a coffee – or rather steal it from work – sit her down, and drill her to tell you all about writing and selling Sweet Romance novels. She's super helpful, and tells you everything you need to know about the story structure readers expect, what tropes each novel has to hit, and even what keywords to advertise under. Armed with your knowledge of the Sweet Romance genre, you get to work. It's not your favorite, but it would beat serving coffee, you figure. The first couple novels are a challenge, but once you get it down, you're cranking out a new one every several weeks. You've got it down to a whole system: You change the character names, the locations, and a few scenarios from your last novel, and they practically write themselves. Making it, as a middle-class novelist Three years later, you, like your friend, are a middle-class Sweet Romance novelist. You've written eighteen novels, in three series, and in the past year have profited $70k. You quit your job at Starbucks a couple years ago, and you were right: Writing Sweet Romance is way more fun than serving coffee. Still, something is missing. You're getting tired of writing the same stories over and over. New ideas for Care Bear Fanfic Urban Fantasy stories keep coming to you. But you keep pushing them down. Why would you bother writing another Care Bear novel, when you're sure you'll sell none? Why would you not write another Sweet Romance novel, when you're sure you'll sell some. Besides, you've upgraded your life: You now have a mortgage and a car payment, and your dog eats Purina instead of the off-brand stuff from Aldi. These novels don't sell forever. If you don't keep the Sweet Romance machine going, you'll make less and less money. A missed opportunity But, one day, you discover something that changes everything you thought you knew about the business of being an author. As you're tallying up your earnings at the end of the month, you realize that your Care Bear Fanfic Urban Fantasy series has started selling. In fact, you've sold a hundred copies in the past month! That's more copies than you've sold in all the previous years. You dig a little deeper, and discover another author, writing under the name Brave Heart Brian, has written seven Care Bear Fanfic Urban Fantasy novels. You're filled with excitement, confusion, and envy. You're excited to have some Care Bear novels to read, confused as to how Brave Heart Brian seems to have popped up out of nowhere, and envious that – judging from the Amazon ranks of his books – he's making more money than you are! You take a deep breath and wash away the envy – it is fanfic after all, it's not like you invented Care Bears. You email Brian to congratulate him on his success, and ask him how it all happened. It turns out Brian stumbled upon your Care Bear series last year. He loved it, and wanted to read more Care Bear Fanfic Urban Fantasy, but since you clearly weren't active anymore, he decided if he wanted to read more, he'd have to write the novels himself. Not only has he built up a nice following of readers, he just sold film rights for his series, for millions of dollars! The good news is, Care Bear Fanfic Urban Fantasy is quickly becoming a popular genre. The bad new is, you're not the author who will reap most of the benefits. Where did you go wrong? You wonder, Where did I go wrong? You tried writing Care Bear Fanfic Urban Fantasy for years, and the writing was on the wall: Nobody cared. The problem was, Sweet Romance was a sure bet – or at least one of the surer bets writing novels could be. You expected writing in Care Bear Fanfic Urban Fantasy to behave like a sure bet, but it was not a sure bet. The Care Bear novels were a wildcard. You didn't distinguish your sure bets from your wildcards, so you gave up on your wildcards too soon. Sure bets for mild success, wildcards for wild success We're used to playing sure bets. You didn't show up to your job at Starbucks for the small chance of making a lot of money. You instead had a high chance – a guarantee, in fact – to make a little money. You knew how much you'd get paid every hour you worked. Sure bets have a good chance of mild success. Even when you fail at a sure bet, you succeed somewhat – if you slack off at Starbucks, you still get paid, so long as you don't get fired. If your next Sweet Romance novel isn't your best, you still make some sales. Sure bets have a good chance of mild success, but wildcards have a small chance of wild success. When a wildcard fails, all your effort goes to waste. You get nothing. But when a wildcard succeeds, the sky is the limit. In my second interview with Seth Godin, on episode 177, he told me this: Your last book was really juicy. Your last book did not sell a million copies. Those things aren't completely related. But it's very important that your next book not be something that you think fits into a juicy slot – not be something that is searched for from an SEO point of view…. That's how you become a second-rate romance novelist. It's not how you write The Martian. What Seth was telling me, essentially, was to not play sure bets – don't write something just because you know some people are searching for it. Instead, play wildcards, to write what was interesting to me, and take the risk that it might not work. Don't rate your wildcards as if they were sure bets Essentially, when you've played a wildcard, don't evaluate its performance as if it were a sure bet. The number of sales you get on one book is not a direct reflection of the quality of that book. As Seth had told me in my first interview with him on episode 77, and as I explored on episode 286, nobody knows anything. As I talked about on episode 251, if you keep playing wildcards forever, eventually ergodicity will take effect, and one of them will hit. But you can't play wildcards forever. Your life is only so long, and there's only so much time in the day to generate wildcards. If you had kept writing Care Bear novels, there's no telling how long it would have taken to quit your job at Starbucks – or if you would have ever succeeded at all. The security of sure bets + the success of wildcards You don't have to choose between playing sure bets and wildcards. As I talked about on episode 256, you can play the barbell strategy. Have the security of mediocristan, with the excitement of extremistan. If, instead of going all in on Sweet Romance novels, you had written, say, one Care Bear novel for every three Romance novels, you'd've greatly increased your chances of being the breakout Care Bear Fanfic Urban Fantasy writer, at the expense of a small pay-cut in the short-term. You can play all sure bets, you can play all wildcards, or you can do a mix of both. But be clear with yourself when you're playing one or the other. The quality of the decisions you make with your creative career depends on it. Image: Mountain Village (Autumnal), Paul Klee Thank you for having me on your podcasts! Thank you for having me on your podcasts. Thank you J Thorn at Writers, Ink. As always, you can find interviews of me on my interviews page. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/sure-bets-wildcards/

You can't get through a project on momentum alone. But there are mechanisms you can use to tweak your motivation and make better use of what momentum you have. These motivation mechanisms aren't one-size-fits-all – you have to choose which ones work for you. Motivation requires self-mastery As I talked about on episode 291, getting through a creative project is like skateboarding through a halfpipe. You have a lot of motivation going into a project, due to your high expectations. Even if your expectations were to be met, it would still be impossible to coast through to the end of a project. There's too much friction along the way. Experienced skateboarders know how to soar out of halfpipes, because they know how to tweak their momentum. Experienced creators know how to follow through on creative projects, because they know how to tweak their motivation. But gaining this experience is a catch-22: You can't finish projects if you don't know how to tweak your motivation, and you don't know how to tweak your motivation if you haven't finished projects. You have to learn, through trial-and-error, what keeps you motivated. Finish smaller projects and build your shipping skills along the way. But it doesn't have to be guesswork. If you know what motivation mechanisms are at your disposal – and the strengths and pitfalls of those mechanisms, you can more quickly gain an understanding of your motivation. Three motivation mechanisms There are three main motivation mechanisms: carrots, sticks, and blinders. The carrot and the stick are classic motivation mechanisms that have been in the scientific literature on motivation for a long time. If you're riding a horse, there are two ways to motivate him: dangle a carrot in front of his face, or strike him in the flank with a stick. The carrot represents the promise of potential reward, the stick represents the threat of potential punishment, and what I call blinders block out distractions and keep the horse focused on the road ahead. We're attracted to rewards, and we avoid punishments. If we set up our projects so action leads to carrots and inaction leads to sticks, we'll get motivated and maintain the momentum to finish – in theory. Carrots: internal and external One way to work carrots into your projects is to have promising data. If you have market research that suggest you'll earn a lot of money if you finish the project, you might have an easier time getting motivated. Or, you might merely be so curious about the outcome of the project, that motivates you to follow through. You can also use external rewards as carrots. For example, you might promise yourself a vacation if you finish a project. On a more granular level, you might promise yourself a piece of chocolate for every 100 words you write. Sticks: internal and external One way to work sticks into your projects is to do part of a project that will result in a punishment if you don't finish the rest of the project. I called this “The Whip,” in my book, The Heart to Start. When I create a new email course, for example, I use the whip. I set up a landing page promising emails on a schedule, then send traffic to the landing page. Once I have sign-ups, I'm highly motivated to finish writing all the emails in the course, as the promised dates approach. This same tactic has worked for other people who have tried my “Explosive Email Course” formula. You can also use external punishments as sticks. You can promise to pay your friend $100 if you don't finish your project by a certain date. On a more granular level, you can punish yourself for behavior that doesn't drive your project forward. Maneesh Sethi, who I interviewed on episodes 13 and 117, created Pavlok, a wristband you can program to shock you when you do things you'd rather quit. I once used it to quit Facebook, and it was shockingly effective. Blinders: physical and mental Carrots can reward you for the behavior you want to be motivated to do, and sticks can punish you for what you don't want to be motivated to do. Blinders can keep you more focused on what you want to be motivated to do, while blocking out what you don't want to be motivated to do. Blinders can be physical, or mental. If you have a dedicated office, or space you do your work, that's a form of physical blinder. By working in that space many times, your mind has been trained to focus on work when in that space. As I talked about in Mind Management, Not Time Management, even if you don't have much space, you can set up certain cues in your environment to serve as blinders. When I was first starting on my own, in a tiny bedroom in San Francisco, I transformed that space from bedroom to office through strategic use of a room divider, aromatherapy, and lighting. Physically separating yourself from a potential source of distraction is another type of physical blinder. If you put your phone in another room, or in a lockbox with a timer, that's a blinder. By using a “grippy” instead of “slippy” tool, you're also using a blinder. There are many options of distraction-free writing devices, but I write my first drafts on an antique typewriter. Rules and schedules as mental blinders Rules and schedules can serve as mental blinders. Simply by deciding that you will or won't do something within some period of time, you focus your mind on the target behavior, while blocking out distractions. The first-hour rule is an effective blinder: Spend the first hour of your day working on your most important task. You can get a lot done in an hour, and can usually hold off any other activity for that short period of time. Mental blinders with secondary benefits You can also use mental blinders not only for the benefits of the behaviors they promote, but also for the secondary effects of those behaviors. The ten-minute hack – or setting a timer for ten minutes to focus on one task – isn't powerful so much for the work you do in those ten minutes, but for the momentum it creates. Ten minutes is an easy decoy goal that short-circuits your ego's excuse engine, but once those ten minutes are up, you usually have the momentum to keep going. On the contrary, “cheat days,” whether when dieting or reducing, say, social media intake, can let the superego take a rest, and let the id blow of steam. It can be hard or even detrimental to quit things cold-turkey, but if there's one day a week you cheat, it can make the rest of the week tolerable. Pitfalls of motivation mechanisms As you can see, there is a huge variety of motivation mechanisms you can use to keep yourself going when projects get tough. But the motivation mechanism that works for one person won't necessarily work for another. And some mechanisms are prone to particular pitfalls that others aren't. Rewards lose effectiveness First, some of the pitfalls of these mechanisms. The biggest problem with carrots is eventually you get your fill of carrots. This tends to be more of a problem when the rewards you're using are external, and not an integral part of the project. If you're, say, giving yourself a piece of chocolate for every 100 words you write, there's a good chance you won't be as motivated by the tenth piece of chocolate as you were by the first. But even when the rewards are integral to the project, you can tire of those rewards, and need to search for another source – as I talked about in my reflections on fifteen years as a creator on episode 283. Rewards can backfire Also, external carrots especially can make doing the work more about the destination – the carrot dangled in front of you – than about the journey. External rewards can actually reduce your motivation. Behavioral scientist Dan Ariely described on episode 51 that Intel lost productivity when an experimental monetary bonus was removed – relative to more integral rewards, such as verbal praise. Rewards require discipline When self-administering external carrots, you also need to be disciplined enough to dole out the reward to yourself properly. It doesn't take much imagination to see how giving yourself chocolate for every 100 words could backfire. Punishments can lose effectiveness, backfire, and require discipline Sticks can be prone to many of the same problems as carrots: The punishment may lose its effectiveness, doing the activity while motivated to avoid punishment may cause you enjoy it less, and you have to be disciplined enough to administer the punishment for it to matter. Blinders entrain behavior Blinders tend to have fewer problems than carrots or sticks. They don't use external stimuli, so there's less chance of your motivation getting misdirected. Instead, the more you use blinders, the easier the target activity tends to get. As the neuroscience saying goes, “Neurons that fire together wire together,” so each time you do the target activity, it's easier to do it again. Each time you work in your home office, you train yourself to work when in your office. When you spend the first hour of your day working on your most important project, you make it easier to do it again tomorrow. Blinders are nearly foolproof Blinders are nearly foolproof because the source of your motivation stays within the project or the activity itself – and that's the best source of motivation. So if you must use external carrots and sticks, do so sparingly. If you're relying on external rewards and punishments to motivate yourself, or if you can't find the self-discipline to administer your own blinders, that's a bad sign. You clearly don't enjoy the activities involved in completing the project, and/or completing the project isn't meaningful enough to you to be a source of motivation. Be an expert on your personal motivation mechanisms There's of course a lot of research on motivation – how effective carrots, sticks, or even blinders are – but none of that matters as much as how each of these motivation mechanisms work for you, personally. A motivation mechanism, such as external rewards, may backfire in the confines of a scientific study, in a context different than your project, and averaged out amongst the study subjects, rather than on an individual basis. If you want to finish lots of creative projects, you need to become an expert on your own motivation. Be a curious observer of yourself, and how you respond to carrots and sticks, internal and external, and how well you can administer and react to your own blinders. You'll get through more projects, and each time you do, you'll learn a little more about how keep and build upon momentum to get through bigger and bigger halfpipes. Image: Park of Idols, Paul Klee Thank you for having me on your podcasts! Thank you for having me on your podcasts. Thank you to Paul Millerd at The Pathless Path. As always, you can find interviews of me on my interviews page. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/carrots-sticks-blinders/

David Kadavy is a designer, podcaster, and writer. He is the author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Heart Start, and Design for Hackers. He previously served as a design advisor to Timeful, an AI-powered calendar app built upon his mind management principles. In 2015, Google bought Timeful and integrated some of its features into the Google Calendar app. David has spoken in eight countries and SXSW, TEDx, The New York Public Library, The Museum of Contemporary Art, and The University of Chicago. He is the creator and host of Love Your Work, a podcast where he dives into being productive, getting things done, and breeding Black Swans as a creative.   David joins me today to discuss mind management and how financial advisors can apply it to their businesses and lives for optimum results. He differentiates between top-down and bottom-up thinkers, and why breaking down a project into its most basic parts can be overwhelming and energy-draining to some people. He shares how you can audit your energy throughout a week to unlock your creativity. He also describes his approach to goal setting for a new year and underscores the power of letting your passive genius take over.   “Find pockets of time and energy and protect them so you can get the most value possible from that mental state.” - David Kadavy   This week on The Model FA Podcast:   David's background and journey to learning mind management What mind management is and why time management is a flawed concept How financial advisors can apply mind management in their businesses and lives David's “Prefrontal Mondays,” identifying your big rocks, and the value of identifying when you're most energetic and creative Different mental states for different activities and why the prefrontal cortex is adverse to creativity The importance of structuring your calendar and day according to your personal needs “Top-down” vs “bottom-up” thinkers and why SOPs can be intimidating MBTI types and the characteristics of Perceiving and Judging types The four stages of creativity and the value of giving yourself time to incubate ideas   Resources Mentioned:   Book: Getting Things Done: The Art of Stress-Free Productivity by David Allen   Our Favorite Quotes:   “Being diligent with your calendar and scheduling is freeing and helps you think less during the day.” - David DeCelle “Set aside particular time to proactively think through the things on your plate. Limit distractions and tackle whatever the topic is at hand.” - David DeCelle “Dedicating time and space to a particular task helps parse what mental state you need for that type of task. A certain time, place, and environment will be better suited to some mental states than others.” - David Kadavy   Connect with David Kadavy:   David Kadavy Website Book: Mind Management, Not Time Management: Productivity When Creativity Matters Book: The Heart to Start: Stop Procrastinating & Start Creating Book: Design for Hackers: Reverse Engineering Beauty Podcast: Love Your Work David Kadavy on LinkedIn David Kadavy on Instagram David Kadavy on Twitter   About the Model FA Podcast   The Model FA podcast is a show for fiduciary financial advisors. In each episode, our host David DeCelle sits down with industry experts, strategic thinkers, and advisors to explore what it takes  to build a successful practice — and have an abundant life in the process. We believe in continuous learning, tactical advice, and strategies that work — no “gotchas” or BS. Join us to hear stories from successful financial advisors, get actionable ideas from experts, and re-discover your drive to build the practice of your dreams.    Did you like this conversation? Then leave us a rating and a review in whatever podcast player you use. We would love your feedback, and your ratings help us reach more advisors with ideas for growing their practices, attracting great clients, and achieving a better quality of life. While you are there, feel free to share your ideas about future podcast guests or topics you'd love to see covered.    Our Team: President of Model FA, David DeCelle   If you like this podcast, you will love our community! Join the Model FA Community on Facebook to connect with like-minded advisors and share the day-to-day challenges and wins of running a growing financial services firm.

The Network, by Scott Woolley, tells the history of wireless communications, and the stories of the characters that were a part of it. It's the first book strictly about media history that I'm summarizing and adding to my best media books list. Wireless communications start with wired communications Wireless communications today of course include cell phones, but The Network takes us from the wireless telegraph, to radio, to television, and finally to satellites. First, it gives a little background on the history of the electric telegraph, the invention which suddenly made it possible to move, in minutes, messages that used to take weeks to reach their destinations. The electric telegraph was able to change the world thanks to one simple action: The ability to move a piece of metal at the end of a wire. That was enough to develop codes that could transmit messages, based upon the simple movement of that piece of metal. This process started in 1822, when Christian Órsted attached a copper wire to a battery and saw a nearby compass needle move. There was a several-decade-long race to develop an electric telegraph. The first transatlantic cable was opened for business by 1866. A big customer of these telegraph services were stock traders, who could buy shares in London, sell them a few seconds later in New York, and always profit if their trades were executed in time. Morse code was the winning format for turning the movement of a piece of metal into messages that could travel around the world. A claim in The Network I couldn't find a source for, but that sounds pretty cool: The clouds in New York City at night used to have projected on them news, election results, and sports scores – in Morse code. From a worthless accidental discovery to worthwhile wireless The history of wireless communication started with a discovery as accidental as Christian Órsted's: Heinrich Hertz noticed that metal objects moved slightly when lightning struck nearby. He later conducted experiments where he successfully generated sparks through the air. It was pretty cool, but he concluded that the invisible waves he had discovered were “of no use whatsoever.” Electrical signals that traveled through the air were made very useful, indeed, by Italian inventor Guglielmo Marconi. For much of its early years, most people thought his Marconi Company was a scam. Like the dot-com and crypto booms, many companies at the dawn of wireless technology made off with investors' money. One article, with the headline, “Wireless and Worthless,” pointed out that more criminals were being prosecuted from wireless companies than from any other industry. Besides, what did we need wireless technology for, when there were companies such as The Commercial, which was probably the hottest tech company in New York in the early 1900s? It owned five of the sixteen cables crossing the Atlantic Ocean, and one of the two that crossed the Pacific – which was 10,000 miles long. 10,000 miles was pretty impressive, especially when you consider that in 1896, Guglielmo Marconi could only send a wireless message one mile. What was the point? The pseudo-events of Guglielmo Marconi Marconi was good at building buzz for his wireless technology through public demonstrations – you could call them pseudo-events, a la Daniel J. Boorstin's The Image, which I talked about on episode 257. In front of an audience, he'd ask a volunteer to carry around a “magic box.” He'd build tension from the stage, then push a lever, which would make the magic box buzz from afar. In 1898, when his wireless range was somewhere around ten miles, Marconi set up a telegraph receiver on the yacht of the prince of Wales. Queen Victoria sent the first mundane wireless text message, asking, “Can you come to tea?” The prince replied, “Very sorry, cannot come to tea.” After all, he was on the ocean. By 1899, Marconi could send a message over the English channel, and by 1901, he could send a message 225 miles. Marconi had competition in trying to send a wireless message across the Atlantic, which was 3,000 miles. Nikola Tesla, with the money of J.P. Morgan, was working on a fifty-five ton, 187-foot-tall steel super-antenna. And Marconi didn't have the funding to build something like that. Marconi won that race across the Atlantic. In one of his publicity stunts, he was able to relay “Marconigrams,” as he called them, from celebrities in London to celebrities at a dinner party in New York. But, that wasn't enough to impress stock traders who relied on wired telegrams – the messages took ten minutes to arrive, with pre-arranged help in expediting them as they traveled to and from coastal locations on wired connections. And radio waves are easier to transmit at night than during business hours, when radiation from the sun interferes with wireless signals. As the Titanic sank, Marconi rose But in 1912, the day before Marconi Company investors were to vote on whether to further fund the company, the Titanic sank. Using Marconi's wireless technology, an ocean liner, the Olympic, fielded a message from the Titanic, over 500 miles away, which included coordinates, and said, “We have struck an iceberg.” Another ocean liner, the Carpathia, came to the rescue. Thanks to Marconi's wireless technology, of the Titanic's 2,223 passengers, 706 survived. What followed sounds like the third act of a great movie: When Marconi arrived at a lecture that had already been scheduled, there was a crowd overflowing out the building. He received a standing ovation, including from the once-skeptical Thomas Edison. And the vote of Marconi shareholders, on whether to issue another $7 million in stock to build stations for intercontinental telegraphs, was a no-brainer. David Sarnoff: The early days of an innovator Working at Marconi at that time was the young David Sarnoff, who had started at Marconi after being fired for taking the day of Rosh Hashanah off work at Marconi's rival company, the Commercial. A Russian immigrant, Sarnoff's father had recently become unable to work, so he had set off to support the family as an office messenger boy, at only fifteen. Being a telegraph operator was a hot tech job at the time. David Sarnoff bought a used telegraph key, so he could spend his evenings practicing his coding skills – his Morse-coding skills. He worked his way up until he was managing Marconi's New York office, but then transferred to what seemed like a step down – as an inspector in the engineering department. Edwin Armstrong's signal amplifier It was as chief inspector David Sarnoff met Edwin Armstrong, who demonstrated to him an amazing signal amplifier. From a Marconi station in New Jersey, Armstrong's amplifier turned signals from an Ireland station from barely audible, to loud and crisp. They were then able to listen in on signals from competitor Poulsen Wireless, as their San Francisco station communicated with their Portland station. They were even able to listen to Poulsen's Hawaii station, despite the fact Poulsen's own San Francisco station – the breadth of a continent closer – could barely pick up the signal, amidst a Hawaiian thunderstorm. Sarnoff thought he had found the key technology that would help Marconi dominate wireless telegraphy, and free it from having to share its revenue with rival cabled networks. Instead, Guglielmo Marconi himself refused to believe the results of the story, and another executive publicly chided Sarnoff within the company for conducting the unauthorized experiments, which he believed merely drove up the prices of inventors' patents. Edwin Armstrong becomes Major Armstrong Armstrong ended up selling the patent for his amplifier to AT&T. Through the use of that amplifier and other wireless-technology inventions, Edwin Armstrong achieved the rank of Major Armstrong in WWI. During WWI, Britain and Germany cut one another's cables, making wireless communication even more important. The British military took over Marconi's wireless stations within their empire. Armstrong helped intercept Germany's wireless communications. RCA, born from a patent pool But during the war, the way wireless technology patents were split up amongst companies became a problem. It was impossible to build useful devices without using a variety of innovations, and thus infringing on other companies' patents. The Navy used its wartime powers to allow American manufacturers to use any wireless patents they wanted, without consequence. Once the war was over, the military sought to maintain this freedom of innovation, and – as a matter of national security – keep the American radio industry out of foreign hands. They struck a deal to cut off the American portion of the British Marconi company, and pool together patents from AT&T, Westinghouse, G.E., and – interestingly – United Fruit Company, who had patents for communications systems on their Central American banana plantations. The name of this new company: RCA. Its general manager: David Sarnoff. Sarnoff's radio Sarnoff had pitched to his bosses at Marconi, in 1915, a “Radio Music Box.” Far more complex than moving a piece of metal, voice had first been transmitted over radio waves in 1906, and The Navy had done “radio telephone” calls, but nobody had thought of using radio to transmit to a wide audience. His pitch described a box with amplifier tubes, and what he called a “speaking telephone.” He wrote, “There should be no difficulty in receiving music perfectly when transmitted within a radius of 25 to 50 miles. Within such a radius there reside hundreds of thousands of families.” Sarnoff had already experimented with the concept by transmitting music, to a boat cruising around Manhattan, from a phonograph in Marconi's New York office. Sarnoff's bosses at Marconi had ignored his radio music box pitch, but once he was in charge at RCA, he was free to pursue the idea. Sarnoff hadn't gotten much support for his ideas at Marconi, but he had learned the value of a well-crafted pseudo-event. The upcoming boxing match between the American, Jack Dempsey, and the Frenchman, Georges Carpentier was the perfect opportunity to show the value of using radio waves to broadcast sound to a large audience. The pseudo-event that launched radio As was customary for big events at the time, if you wanted an update, you could gather near a telegraph station, where someone would announce a text-message update of the event. In Paris, a flare was to be released from a plane after the fight: white if Dempsey won, red if Carpentier. But if you truly wanted to know what was happening, you had to be one of the ninety-one thousand people there in the stadium. So, the rich and famous were flocking to New York. 300 rooms were booked at the Plaza, 500 at the Waldorf Astoria, and 800 at the Biltmore. Actress Mary Pickford took her yacht all the way from Hollywood, through the Panama Canal, and some came in the 1921 version of a private jet: a private train car. But for the first time, people who couldn't be at the fight could get blow-by-blow updates. RCA teamed up with amateur radio operators, who rented out auditoriums and received a voice broadcast from ringside, via “radiophone.” This helped solve the chicken-and-egg problem of getting mass-audience radio started. You couldn't get people to buy receivers if they hadn't experienced a broadcast – and if there was nothing being broadcast – and it wasn't worth broadcasting if nobody had receivers. By getting a lot of people together for a global event everybody was already talking about, it was worthwhile to do a broadcast, and people got to see the potential of radio. Radio in its infancy Over the next three years, secretary of commerce Herbert Hoover granted licenses to 600 radio stations – small ones that broadcast across a particular city or county. There were no radio stations or programs in much of rural America. But Sarnoff was pushing the adoption of higher-powered AM transmitters that could broadcast to multi-state regions. This idea was opposed by the smaller stations that didn't want their audiences stolen, and also by AT&T. AT&T's raw deal in radio AT&T believed that since radio involved transmitting the voice, they, as the phone company, should be in charge of it. They also didn't want to lose revenue: For AM radio programs to be syndicated from one station to another, they had to be sent over AT&T's phone lines, as they would come out distorted if transmitted wirelessly. Additionally, AT&T felt duped from the negotiations over the RCA patent pool, which Sarnoff had been in charge of. Sarnoff had proposed that AT&T get the rights to sell radio transmitters, while RCA would sell radio receivers. This didn't seem like a bad deal in 1920, before the Dempsey/Carpentier fight, but now it looked like a raw deal, indeed. In 1924, RCA's AM radio sales were over $50 million, while AT&T had a measly market of 600 radio stations. Most of those stations ignored AT&T's patents and built their own transmitters, and AT&T wasn't successful in getting the revenue that was rightfully theirs. The first radio ad The radio broadcasting industry was experimenting with business models. AT&T ran the first radio ad in 1922. For fifty dollars, a suburban housing development got to broadcast on an AT&T station. Herbert Hoover called advertising-funded radio “the quickest way to kill broadcasting.” He wanted instead to fund radio broadcasts by placing a surcharge on the sale of each consumer radio receiver. David Sarnoff was on his side, which was odd, since an advertising-funded model would make his radios cheaper to consumers. Divvying up the radio waves There were also fights over who could broadcast on what frequency. The Radio Act of 1912 had been passed, after amateur telegraphers' messages had interfered with one another while communicating about the Titanic sinking. Hoover tried to regulate the frequencies some stations were broadcasting on, but it turned out the 1912 act had only regulated airwaves at least six-hundred meters long – the technological limit at the time. Some stations protested by deliberately overlapping their broadcasts, resulting in an hour of unpleasant squelches, followed by a message to support the passing of a law to regulate the airwaves. The Federal Radio Commission was formed in 1927, for that purpose. In 1934, it became the FCC, overseeing all types of electronic communications. How AM held back FM Sometimes, an inferior technology dominates, as VHS did over Beta, but sometimes, despite the best efforts of entrenched interests, the better technology prevails, as did eventually FM radio, over AM. AM radio signals are imprinted sounds on waves that vary according to amplitude, or the height of the waves. Thus “AM,” for “amplitude modulation.” FM radio waves are varied according to the frequency of the waves, or their width. Engineers in the radio industry and academia once thought frequency modulation wouldn't work. A 1922 paper from AT&T claimed to prove mathematically that it “inherently distorts without any compensating advantages whatsoever.” But Major Armstrong was pushing hard for the FM method. Armstrong once again conducted a demonstration for Sarnoff. His “little black box” that transmitted an FM signal had vastly superior sound quality than an AM radio. Sarnoff let Armstrong run tests with FM equipment from RCA's offices atop the Empire State Building – the tallest in the world at the time. The FM signal delivered better sound quality than AM with one twenty-fifth the signal power. FM threatened existing AM interests There was a lot at stake in switching to FM: It could deliver better sound quality, and – since signals could be transmitted on a variety of frequencies – it could add thousands of stations to the dial. But, there were already tens of millions of AM radios, and hundreds of expensive radio station transmitters that would become obsolete. A benefit to RCA, however, would be that with clearer signals, they would no longer have to pay AT&T for use of their phone network for syndicating content. Y2K of the 1940s: The bogus sun-spot scare In 1941, the FCC approved a band of FM stations between 42 and 50 MHz. At the start of WWII, Major Armstrong pushed the military to switch to FM, and waived any licensing fees, increasing adoption. After the war, there was a controversy about sunspots: They work in an eleven-year cycle, and in FCC proceedings, one engineer rose a stink about how the next time sunspots came around, they would interfere with stations on the existing FM band. Despite the fact nearly every expert disagreed with that prediction, the FCC moved the FM dial to the current 88 to 108 MHz band. This made $75 million worth of devices soon-to-be worthless, and pissed off hundreds of thousands of FM early adopters. (When the strongest sunspots in two centuries came along, the old FM band worked fine.) The stifling of FM radio continued. The FCC eventually cut FM broadcasts from a 150 mile radius to a 50-mile radius, which may not sound like much, but translates to a ninety-percent cut in coverage area. Conveniently, this meant FM stations could no longer send programs to neighboring markets through the air, and had to instead pay to use AT&T's expensive and low-fidelity telephone wires. AM radio interests had also taken over most FM stations, where they simply rebroadcast their AM programs. There was little incentive to buy an FM set, and by 1946, nine of ten radio manufacturers weren't bothering to make them. All of this was enough to prompt Major Armstrong to file an antitrust suit against RCA, claiming David Sarnoff was conspiring to stifle the FM radio industry. The bold bets Sarnoff made in TV David Sarnoff was very focused on making television work around that time. He made some bold bets that helped NBC, a spin-off from RCA, be the first on the air. Searching for office space during the Great Depression, Sarnoff had decided to move RCA and NBC into the expensive 30 Rockefeller Plaza, aka “30 Rock.” He pissed off shareholders by building elaborate radio studios. He had special wires installed in NBC's studios – for transmitting TV signals around the building – that weren't used for another twenty years. He had a giant studio built, with rotating stage, to work with television cameras that didn't even exist. Overall, he spent $50 million on television research over the course of twenty-five years, and it took a long time to pay off. Battles over TV airwaves The FCC's poor decisions continued in the proliferation of television. Despite warnings from engineers such as Major Armstrong, they allocated VHF channels so poorly, only one or two stations worked in most cities. They had to learn from their mistakes and start over with UHF stations. But UHF wavelengths were so short, the lower the channel number a station had, the further and more clearly their signal could travel. So, stations fought over the smaller-numbered of the sixty-eight channels. The television satellite David Sarnoff was there, once again, innovating in television. There was a battle over the color standard, and Sarnoff and RCA's NSTC standard was finally adopted by the FCC in 1953. “Relay-1” was the first American communications satellite, launched in 1962. It helped bypass AT&T's cables for syndicating programs, thus doubling RCA's revenue. Some events had previously been broadcast via airplane to expand coverage area. Relay-1's first trans-Pacific broadcast was supposed to carry to Japan an address from President Kennedy. Instead, it carried coverage of his assassination, and footage of the new president, Lyndon B. Johnson. There's your The Network summary As you can see, The Network covers a lot of the early history of wireless communications. It also does it with an engaging narrative style. There is of course much more. Read it to find out: Why there's no channel one. How Lyndon B. Johnson's wife Lady Bird built her media empire with some suspiciously favorable treatment from the FCC. The visions that Sarnoff had late in life for fiber optics, the internet, and e-books. Whether Major Armstrong's suicide at 63 had anything to do with his legal battles against David Sarnoff and RCA. If you've enjoyed this summary, you'll no doubt enjoy The Network. Thank you for having me on your podcasts! Thank you for having me on your podcasts. Thank you to David Elikwu at The Knowledge. As always, you can find interviews of me on my interviews page. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/the-network-scott-woolley/

A creative project is like a halfpipe. The depth of the halfpipe from which you must ascend to finish a project is equal to the height of the optimism that prompted you to begin. But there's a way to build your project halfpipe so the project itself keeps you moving forward. The gravity of optimism pulls you into a project When you begin a project, you are optimistic. Why else would you start? You're interested in the subject matter, and you expect to succeed. This optimism serves as the gravity that pulls you into the project halfpipe. Without experience, you can't maintain the momentum to finish The momentum you build from this drop into the halfpipe may get you through much of the project, but will eventually run out. By the time you get to the other side of the halfpipe – the end of the project – you've forgotten the optimism you once had, and the friction of reality has sapped your energy. The project isn't as fun as it once was, and it hasn't been as easy as you had expected. You face a steep incline, and don't have the momentum to ascend. Experienced skateboarders know how to tweak their momentum, so they have enough energy to ascend the other side of a halfpipe. Like kicking their legs while riding a swing, they're able to climb higher and higher, as they go back and forth. Experienced creators know how to tweak their motivation, too, to ascend the other side of the halfpipe. They've finished enough projects, they know how to harness their momentum to make the most of their efforts, and coast through the tough parts. But the need for this experience is a catch-22: You don't know how to tweak your motivation to follow through if you haven't finished projects, and if you haven't finished projects you don't know how to tweak your motivation. A halfpipe is a closed system A halfpipe, with nothing but a skateboard rolling back and forth, is a closed system. The first law of thermodynamics states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. The energy from the descent into the halfpipe is not enough to get to the other side of the halfpipe, because much of it is wasted on friction. When you put a person on the skateboard, that adds a new energy source to the system. The skateboarder can move their body in ways that overcome the loss of energy from friction, thus maintaining enough momentum to get out of the halfpipe. But the skateboarder is a closed system, too. They require energy to move. Shiny object syndrome sets in when projects get tough Shiny object syndrome often sets in toward the end of a project. There are other halfpipes all around. The excitement of dropping into one and once again experiencing effortless momentum is a lot more fun than putting forth effort to get out of the current halfpipe. So, you switch projects – you switch halfpipes. Some creators, after dropping into enough halfpipes, figure out how to tweak their motivation to get through one – whether due to luck or experimentation. More often, they get frustrated with the endless cycle of shiny object syndrome, and burn out. They stop “skating” altogether. You learn to maintain momentum by finishing projects But, you can turn the closed system of a halfpipe into an open system that maintains your momentum, propelling you to the finish. If you use this method to finish more projects, you'll gain experience tweaking your motivation. Maybe you need an accountability partner – or maybe you hate obligation. Maybe you gain momentum by building prototypes – or maybe you prefer to develop a detailed plan. Maybe you like to talk about ideas with friends – or maybe you discover it causes you to lose your momentum. Do smaller projects, finish more projects If you aren't finishing projects, you can't learn what works for you. A great way to finish more projects is simply do smaller projects. When you do smaller projects, two things happen: One, you make the halfpipe shorter, and less shallow, so you don't run out of momentum so fast, and you can more easily find the internal motivation to get out of the halfpipe. Two, you can more easily get momentum from the project itself, in the form of feedback loops. For example, when I'm working on a new book, I don't just sit down and write a book. That's too long and deep a halfpipe. I might be excited going in, but I'll soon lose momentum, and I'll forget why I began in the first place. Instead, I break the process of writing into tiny projects, which feed into progressively larger projects. I write and share an idea on Twitter. If it does well on Twitter, I expand it into a newsletter. If it does well as a newsletter, I expand it into an article and podcast episode. After I complete this process enough times, I have a large collection of ideas I can share in my book. There's still a lot of work to be done: I need to weave the ideas together into a cohesive whole, not to mention edit the book, lay it out, design the cover, and market it. But that bigger halfpipe of writing the book is much easier to get through when fueled by the momentum of the smaller halfpipes of tweets, newsletters, and articles. In fact, through these smaller projects with feedback loops, my halfpipe is no longer a closed system. The projects themselves are providing the momentum. Big projects are like halfpipes: You lose momentum and get stuck. Small projects are like waves: Feedback loops keep you moving forward. Turn halfpipes into waves When you surf a wave, gravity is still pulling you down the face of the wave, but the wave itself is moving, too. This is why you sometimes hear the expression of “riding a wave,” in business. The success of an industry or trend becomes an outside force that keeps you moving, multiplying your efforts. The success of a project itself can become a wave, too. As blogger Tynan has pointed out, one reason it's hard to finish projects is that in the middle of the project, you've experienced all the downsides of working on the project, but none of the upsides of succeeding. You're stuck in the halfpipe. But if you design the project so you get some of that feedback throughout the process, you get to experience some upsides that keep you moving. This works for a lot of creative projects. You can't count the number of stand-up comedians who go to one open mic after another, testing out jokes, then take those jokes on the road to polish them, then weave it all together into a one-hour special, then repeat the process over again. Even War and Peace, written when publishing wasn't so rapid and didn't have such immediate feedback, was published serially, with a different name, and wasn't even intended to be a novel. It wasn't until later that Tolstoy wove it together, and re-wrote it. The next time you find yourself stuck in a project halfpipe, or switching to new projects each time a previous project gets tough, see if you can turn that halfpipe into a wave. Complete smaller projects that give you immediate feedback. You'll finish more projects, and learn to tweak your motivation well enough to soar out of larger and larger halfpipes. Thank you for having me on your podcasts! Thank you for having me on your podcasts. Thank you to Ivan Farber at the Conversations About Conversations podcast. As always, you can find interviews of me on my interviews page. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/project-halfpipe/

Bestseller David Kadavy has dedicated his work to helping authors and creatives rethink productivity. In his bestselling book, Mind Management, Not Time Management, he explores the limits of creativity and the importance of structure, self-awareness, and self-control to writers. David is a bestseller author of mostly shorter nonfiction, but has also won praise for longer pieces like The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. To purchase Mind Management, follow the link below. From Amazon.com: David Kadavy is a bestselling author whose books help people be productive when creativity matters. He was design advisor for behavioral scientist Dan Ariely's productivity app, Timeful, where David's “mind management” principles were applied to features now used by millions – in Google Calendar. He lives in Medellín, Colombia. Follow him on Twitter or Instagram at @kadavy. In this episode, you'll discover: What is dirty electricity The email that changed David's life How he transitioned from writing blogs to books The psychology of writing What makes stories memorable Links: J. D. Barker - http://jdbarker.com/ J. Thorn - https://theauthorlife.com/ Zach Bohannon - https://zachbohannon.com/ David Kadavy - https://kadavy.net Mind Management, Not Time Management - https://books2read.com/MindManagement David's Course - https://100wordwritinghabit.com Twitter - https://twitter.com/kadavy Three Story Method: Writing Scenes - https://books2read.com/threestorymethodws Best of BookTook - https://bestofbooktok.com/ Story Rubric - http://storyrubric.com Nonfic Rubric - http://nonficrubric.com Scene Rubric - http://scenerubric.com Proudly sponsored by Kobo Writing Life - https://kobowritinglife.com/ and Atticus - https://www.atticus.io/ Music by Nicorus - https://cctrax.com/nicorus/dust-to-dust-ep Voice Over by Rick Ganley - http://www.nhpr.com and recorded at Mill Pond Studio - http://www.millpondstudio.com Audio production by Geoff Emberlyn - http://www.emberletter.com/ Website Design by Word & Pixel - http://wordandpixel.com/ Contact - https://writersinkpodcast.com/contact/ *Full disclosure: Some of the links are affiliate links. --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/writersink/support

The world expects us to be Raphaels, but some of us are Leonardos. Don't hold your Leonardo mind to Raphael standards, because this Raphael world would be nothing without Leonardo minds. There's an inscription in the Pantheon in Rome that says, “Here lies that famous Raphael by whom Nature feared to be conquered while he lived.” In other words, Raphael was such an amazing painter, Nature was supposedly shaking in her boots, afraid he would learn all her tricks. (Ironically, Raphael's remains are sealed away in a sarcophagus, where Nature can't get to them. Who's afraid of who?) But Nature had nothing to fear. Raphael could not outdo her. As Raphael was being buried, the painter Nature should have feared lay hundreds of miles to the north, in a little church on the grounds of the King of France's chateau. Raphael the young phenom, Leonardo, the old has-been Several years before Raphael's early death, he was getting paid thousands of ducats to paint one fresco after another in the Vatican. Meanwhile, the aging Leonardo da Vinci was nearby, living off a meager 33 ducat-a-month stipend, not doing much of importance. The pope had tried hiring him to paint something, but ended up frustrated, saying, “This man will never get anything done!” When the prolific art patron, Elizabeth d'Este, who had hounded Leonardo for a portrait for decades, came to visit Rome, she didn't bother getting in touch with Leonardo. He was a has-been, who couldn't be counted on to follow through. Who was she there to see? The young phenom, Raphael. Raphael was very similar to Leonardo, but also very different. His most important difference was that he was a master executor. If you hired Raphael, he got the job done. He also had been raised in the workshop of his father, a court painter for a Duke, so Raphael was refined and well-mannered. He knew how to schmooze with nobility. He had the connections that came along with that background, and could get a letter of recommendation from one powerful person to another with ease. Leonardo, on the other hand, was born out of wedlock – which made him “illegitimate” at the time – and didn't get much education. While he had gained a reputation as a brilliant engineer and architect, he had also gained a reputation as an unreliable painter. Raphael: A reliable Leonardo As Raphael continued his career as the pope's wunderkind, Leonardo worked his way north. He left yet another project unfinished in Milan, then impressed King Francis I enough to be invited to join him at the Chateau d'Amboise, as the official painter, architect, and court pageantry designer. While a gig with the King of France wasn't the worst thing in the world, it was a step down from what Leonardo could have been doing if he hadn't been reputed as someone who couldn't get things done. The pope and all the nobles in all the principalities of Italy just watched him go. He'd never return again. While Raphael had some clear advantages that helped his career advance, he couldn't have done it without the ways he and Leonardo were similar. The frescoes being painted by the young Raphael – such as his most-famous School of Athens – were exactly the kinds of projects Leonardo would have been great for, if only he could have been counted on to finish them. In fact, there was no person in the world to whom Raphael owed his own painting style more than Leonardo. When it came to painting, Raphael was mostly a reliable Leonardo. Raphael's “Leonardo period” Art historians call the years during which Raphael spent a lot of time in Florence his “Florence period.” But they might as well call them his “Leonardo period.” That's the four years during which Raphael's work started looking less like that of his mentor, Perugino, and more like that of his idol, Leonardo. During Raphael's Florence period, Leonardo was in a public face-off with another young phenom, Michelangelo. Leonardo had been commissioned to paint a battle scene in the Florence Council Hall. As usual, the first deadline came and went. Meanwhile, Michelangelo had done such a great job with his David statue, the council decided it would be a great idea to have him paint a battle scene, too. It was a pretty awkward situation for Leonardo. He was already struggling to finish, and a committee of which he had been a part had gone against his recommendation for a less-conspicuous location and put the David right outside the entrance of the council hall. Michelangelo was an arrogant prick who openly taunted Leonardo for his past failures, and now Leonardo had to walk through the shadow of Michelangelo's latest triumph to get to his mural. Oh, and Michelangelo's battle scene mural was directly across the room from his. By all accounts at the time, this was a painting competition – a battle of battle scenes. Leonardo wasn't competitive by nature, but this was supposedly going to motivate him to finish his mural. Today, we might say putting Leonardo in this position was pretty machiavellian. Which is ironic, because it was arranged with the help of none other than the inventor of machiavellianism, the council's secretary, Niccolò Machiavelli. Once word of this painting battle traveled outside Florence, young artists traveled to Florence to witness it. One of those artists: Raphael – armed with a letter of recommendation from the mother of the future Duke of Urbino to the leader of the Florentine Republic, stating that the twenty-one year-old was “greatly gifted…sensible and well-mannered.” It's during this “Florence period” that Raphael's work changed dramatically. It started to look as if he might know a thing or two about anatomy, he started aping Leonardo's smokey sfumato technique, and drawing contorted, muscular men in the heat of battle. He learned a bit watching Michelangelo, but he learned a lot watching Leonardo. As it turned out, neither Leonardo nor Michelangelo finished his mural. For Michelangelo, it wasn't a big deal. He got summoned to Rome, where he eventually painted the Sistine Chapel ceiling. Leonardo, however, had more of his career behind him than ahead of him. Yet another public failure meant he never got another public commission. So while Leonardo, in his sixties, was wandering around Europe, chasing what work he could, Raphael, in his early thirties, was getting showered with high-paying papal commissions, as a more-reliable Leonardo. The rise and fall of Raphael These days, we admire Leonardo more than we do Raphael, but that wasn't always the case. That Raphael is one of the few people entombed in the palace of the gods, alongside kings, is testament to his popularity when he died. Heck, at his funeral, the pope kissed his hand. Around 1800, the church in which Leonardo was buried was destroyed in the French Revolution. Nobody bothered to try to recover Leonardo's remains. They were mixed in with everyone else's and forgotten. Meanwhile, Raphael was as popular as ever. If you take a peek at Google Ngram, you see a sharp increase in mentions of Raphael around that time. For hundreds of years after Raphael's death, he was considered the quintessential painter of the High Renaissance. The art academies around Europe, who controlled the opinion of what was or wasn't good art, built their curricula around studying the work of Raphael. But as the influence of art academies crumbled in the late 1800s with the rise of Impressionism, so too did crumble the reverence for Raphael. Meanwhile, Leonardo has risen in popularity over the centuries. Today, if you want to find a good book on Leonardo, you have lots of choices. Raphael, not so much. The probable cause of this rise in popularity and the probable cause of Leonardo's struggles with follow-through are one in the same: Nature had more reason to fear Leonardo than Raphael. Leonardo's massive iceberg Through the centuries after Leonardo's death, his notes began to resurface. They had been inherited by someone who was supposed to compile and publish them, but were so numerous and disorganized, that was a nearly impossible task. His notes ended up collated and bound into individual notebooks, scattered amongst collectors around Europe. One notebook was found as recently as the 1960s, hiding in plain sight in Madrid, in the collection of the library. These notebooks have revealed that for Leonardo, painting a picture was about much more than painting a picture. When Raphael did an anatomy study, it was all about knowing how the skin on the surface of the body was shaped by the muscles underneath. The only purpose was to mimic Nature, on a superficial level. For Leonardo, an anatomy study was about much more. He didn't just want to know what muscles were under the skin. He wanted to also know which muscles were engaged by which movements, or which nerves activated by which emotions. As a painter, there was no reason for Leonardo to know what the human heart looked like, or how it worked. Yet Leonardo made observations about the heart that would have advanced science by centuries, had they been published. Leonardo searched, Raphael found As I talked about on episodes 105 and 288, economist David Galenson would say Raphael was a conceptual innovator, while Leonardo was an experimental one. To Leonardo, there was no such thing as irrelevant information. In the course of researching how to paint something, he might make a new discovery about anatomy, metallurgy, geology, or some other field, that would set him down a different path. The art historian Eugene Garin thought, based upon Leonardo's many thousands of pages of notes, that he was trying to compile a treatise of all human knowledge. Leonardo wasn't studying Nature just so he could paint it convincingly – he was trying to understand all of Nature. Raphael didn't have to explore all aspects of the world. He merely had to copy the result of Leonardo's thinking. Galenson told me, “It's what conceptual innovators do, it turns out.” Conceptual innovators take an idea, and make it their own. It's what Picasso did with the work of Cézanne, what Warhol did with the work of Pollack, what Hemingway did with the work of Stein and Twain. The projects Leonardo pursued were impossible to finish Leonardo's experimental approach meant his paintings were never finished. He was always discovering something new, so he was constantly revising. For example, after one of his anatomy studies, he realized he had painted some neck muscles wrong, so he went back and repainted them thirty years after the fact. He did the bulk of his work on the Mona Lisa during four years, but moved it around for fifteen, making finishing touches until a paralyzed hand rendered him unable. The patron never got their painting, Leonardo never collected payment, and the Mona Lisa was still collecting dust in his studio when he died. This experimental, iterative approach extended to Leonardo's materials and methods, and made it even more difficult for him to follow through. The best-practice method of painting murals in fresco required laying down plaster and painting on it before it dried and literally set itself in stone. It wasn't great for Leonardo's blurry-edged painting style, and it made iteration impossible. He couldn't lay down dozens of layers of paint over the course of years, as he did with the Mona Lisa. By the time Leonardo was painting his battle scene in the Florence Council Hall, his famous Last Supper was already fading and flaking, thanks to his resistance to painting in the reliable fresco technique. Not satisfied with adapting his style to this technique, Leonardo instead experimented once again on his battle-scene mural. He was almost finished, before the fire he was using to set colors got too close, destroying his work. This Raphael world is nothing without Leonardos Historically, the world rewards Raphaels. It rewards the ability to formulate a plan, follow through, collect payment and prestige, and move on. So, the world trains us to be Raphaels. Why do we follow a curriculum and fill out bubbles on standardized tests with #2 pencils? Because our teacher already knows the answer. They know the answer so well, they've programmed a computer to grade the test, and it'll get confused if you use a #3 pencil. But for the curriculum to be designed to make Raphaels, we first need Leonardos. We need people who explore and experiment. We need them to ask questions that might not have answers, and to come up with new questions nobody ever thought of. That's not a straightforward process. It's messy and disorganized, and it would cause any Raphael to pull their hair out. When you don't always find answers, and the answers you do find lead to new questions, you don't always finish. The days of the Raphaels of the world are numbered. If somebody already knows the process, already knows the answer, we don't need Raphael. A computer or machine can follow a process. Raphael knew this. Once his fame was established, he milked it for all it was worth. His later frescoes were painted by his staff of assistants in the largest workshop of the High Renaissance. He licensed his drawings to a printmaker, who sold copies of his work. As it becomes harder to make it as a Raphael, it's becoming easier to make it as a Leonardo. I think Leonardo would have been a great blogger. He wouldn't have to collect and document all knowledge, then rely on an heir to collate, typeset, and publish his life's work on expensive parchment. He could instead write and publish one note at a time, gradually building his treatise of human knowledge. He wouldn't have to wander around Europe looking for patrons – he could get them without leaving his home. If you're a Leonardo, don't bother being a Raphael If you're a Leonardo mind, don't fall into the trap of evaluating yourself by the standards of the Raphael world. There's a reason why the Raphaels are so good at getting it done: Their task is simpler. Don't beat yourself up by your inability to plan and carry out a vision no one could reasonably execute on their first attempt. Instead, find a way to explore in public, one little project at a time, building up into your grand masterpiece. Leonardo's remains were forgotten for sixty years. Some scientist, perhaps motivated by the gradual resurfacing of the notes revealing Leonardo's genius, gathered together some bones he figured were those of the master. They're in a tomb in a chapel on the grounds of the chateau, and it's one of the top attractions in Amboise. Are they actually Leonardo's bones? Probably not. His remains are probably where they should be – not sealed away in some sarcophagus, but one with Nature. Thank you for having me on your podcasts! Thank you to Costa Michailidis for having me on the InnovationBound podcast. As always, you can find interviews of me on my interviews page. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: https://kadavy.net/blog/posts/leonard-mind-raphael-world/

Today I have a special episode for you. If you missed last month's AMA/Livestream, I'm delivering it right to your ears. In this AMA, I answered questions about: How should I start marketing my books? How can you cope with burnout that gets in the way of creative work? How can you market your books when it doesn't come naturally? How did you build your audience and how long did it take? (How can you build an audience without “niching down”?) What's the difference between an accountability partner and a creativity partner? How did you get your first book deal? How can you stay motivated and get help from others when you work in isolation? How can you create luck in creative work? Which is better: Medium, or Substack? Do you use editing software, such as Grammarly? How did you come up with the Seven Mental States of Creativity? Have you made soap lately? How are you improving your fiction and storytelling skills? How do you hack learning a new language? Why are you using a pen name to write fiction? What are good writing goals for a beginner? Why do you prefer self-publishing over traditional? How can you pick a creative project when you have too many ideas? How do you make foreign-rights deals for your books? What should do with lots of different content on different topics? I also mention in this my new giveaway, and I'll tell you briefly about it now. I'm giving away 20 of my favorite creativity books. As you know from this show, I'm a creativity enthusiast. I love to think about how to tap into your creativity and motivate action, and I love stories about how all creators do that, whether they're writers, painters, musicians, scientists – or do any kind of creative work. I've compiled a list of my favorite creativity books, spanning mindset, creativity science, biographies, and more. I'm reaching into my own pocket and buying all twenty book for one lucky winner. Find out which books are on the list and sign up at kdv.co/giveaway. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/ama-september-2022/

My guest on this episode is a self-described “creativity fiend”, prolific content creator and advocate of all modes of expression. His name is David Kadavy. David is the author of several books including: Mind Management, Not Time Management, How to Write A Book, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. David has a podcast called Love Your Work—what he calls his intellectual playground. He's had amazing guests including CEOs, authors and thought leaders such as Seth Godin, David Allen, James Altucher and Ryan Holiday. WATCH the episode on YouTube: https://youtu.be/UjL7SnD1U6k LISTEN to the podcast on Spotify, Apple, Amazon, Google, iHeartRadio or the podcast's page: https://conversationsaboutconversations.libsyn.com/ Conversations About Conversations – Episode 275 #ConversationsAboutConversations #Creativity #Management #MindManagement

The book, Old Masters and Young Geniuses shows there are two types of creators: experimental, and conceptual. Experimental and conceptual creators differ in their approaches to their work, and follow two distinct career paths. Experimental creators grow to become old masters. Conceptual creators shine as young geniuses. University of Chicago economist, and author of Old Masters and Young Geniuses, David Galenson – who I interviewed on episode 105 – wanted to know how the ages of artists affected the prices of their paintings. He isolated the ages of artists from other factors that affect price, such as canvas size, sale date, and support type (whether it's on canvas, paper, or other). He expected to find a neat effect, such as “paintings from younger/older artists sell for more.” But instead, he found two distinct patterns: Some artists' paintings from their younger years sold for more. Other artists' paintings from their older years sold for more. He then found this same pattern in the historical significance of artists' work: The rate at which paintings were included in art history books or retrospective exhibitions – both indicators of significance – peaked at the same ages as the values of paintings. When he looked closely at how painters who followed these two trajectories differed, he found that the ones who peaked early took a conceptual approach, while those who peaked late took an experimental approach. Cézanne vs. Picasso The perfect examples of contrasting experimental and conceptual painters are Paul Cézanne and Pablo Picasso. Paintings from Cézanne's final year of life, when he was sixty-seven, are his most valuable. Paintings from early in Picasso's career, when he was twenty-six, are his most valuable. A painting done when Picasso was twenty-six is worth four times as much as one done when he was sixty-seven (he lived to be ninety-one, and his biographer and friend called the dearth of his influential work later in life “a sad end”). A painting done when Cézanne was sixty-seven – the year he died – is worth fifteen times as much as one done when he was twenty-six. Cézanne, the experimenter Cézanne took an experimental approach to painting, which explains why it took so long for his career to peak. Picasso took a conceptual approach, which explains why he peaked early. Cézanne left the conceptual debates of Paris cafés to live in the south of France, in his thirties. He spent the next three decades struggling to paint what he truly saw in landscapes. He felt limited by the fact that, as he was looking at a canvas, he could only paint the memory of what he had just seen. He did few preparatory sketches early in his career, but grew to paint straight from nature. He treated his paintings as process work, and seemed to have no use for them when he was finished: He only signed about ten percent of his paintings, and sometimes threw them into bushes or left them in fields. Picasso, the conceptual genius Picasso, instead, executed one concept after another. He had early success with his Blue period and Rose period, then dove into Cubism. He often planned paintings carefully, in advance: He did more than four-hundred studies for his most valuable and influential painting, Les Demoiselles d'Avignon. One model described how he simply stared at her for an hour, apparently planning a series of paintings in his head, which he began painting the next day, without her assistance. Cézanne said, “I seek in painting.” Picasso said, “I don't seek; I find.” Cézanne struggled to paint what he saw, and Picasso said, “I paint objects as I think them, not as I see them.” Experimental vs. conceptual artists Here are some qualities that differ between experimental and conceptual artists: Experimental artists work inductively. Through the process of creation, they arrive at their solution. Conceptual artists work deductively. They begin with a solution in mind, then work towards it. Experimental artists have vague goals. They're not quite sure what they're seeking. Conceptual artists have specific goals. They already have an idea in their head they're trying to execute. Experimental artists are full of doubt. Since they don't already have the solution, and aren't sure what they're looking for, they rarely feel they've succeeded. Conceptual artists are confident. They know what they're after, so once they've achieved it, they're done, and can move on to the next thing. Experimental artists repeat themselves. They might paint the same subject over and over, tweaking their approach. Conceptual artists change quickly. They'll move from subject to subject, style to style, concept to concept. Experimental artists do it themselves. They're discovering throughout the process, so they rarely use assistants. Conceptual artists delegate. They just need their concept executed, so someone else can often do the work. Experimental artists discover. Over the years, they build up knowledge in a field, to invent new approaches. Conceptual artists steal. To a greater degree than experimental artists, they take what others have developed and make it their own. Other experimental & conceptual artists Some other experimental artists: Georgia O'Keeffe: She painted pictures of a door of her house in New Mexico more than twenty times. She liked to start off painting a subject realistically, then, through repetition, make it more abstract. Jackson Pollock: He said he needed to drip paint on a canvas from all four sides, what he called a “‘get acquainted' period,” before he knew what he was painting. Leonardo da Vinci: He was constantly jumping from project to project, rarely finishing. He incorporated his slowly-accrued knowledge of anatomy, optics, and geology into his paintings. Some conceptual artists: Georges Seurat: He had his pointillism method down to a science. He planned out his most-famous painting, Sunday Afternoon, through more than fifty studies, and could paint tiny dots on the giant canvas without stepping back to see how it looked. Andy Warhol: Used assistants heavily, saying, “I think somebody should be able to do all my paintings for me,” and “Why do people think artists are special? It's just another job.” Raphael: Who had a huge workshop of as many as fifty assistants, innovated by allowing a printmaker to make and sell copies of his work, and synthesized the hard-won methods of Leonardo and Michelangelo into his well-planned designs. Experimental & conceptual creators in other fields Galenson has found these two distinct experimental and conceptual trajectories in a variety of fields. This runs counter to the findings of Dean Simonton, who believes the complexity of a given field determines when a creator peaks. Galenson argues that the complexity of having an impact in a field changes, as innovations are made or integrated into the state of the art. Sculpture In sculpture, Méret Oppenheim had a conversation in a café with Picasso, and got the idea to line a teacup with fur. It became the quintessential surrealist sculpture, Luncheon in Fur, but it was totally conceptual. She continued to make art into her seventies, and never did another significant work. Constantin Brancusi spent a lifetime as an experimental sculptor. He said, “I don't work from sketches, I take the chisel and hammer and go right ahead.” He did his most famous work, Bird in Space, when he was fifty-two. Novels In novels, Mark Twain wrote The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn experimentally, in at least three separate phases, over the course of nine years. He finally published it when he was fifty. Hemingway's novels were conceptually driven, using his trademark dialog as one of his major devices. He picked up this technique and synthesized it from studying the work of Gertrude Stein, Sherwood Anderson, and Twain himself. When I talked to Galenson on episode 105, he explained the way to spot the difference between an experimental and a conceptual novel is to ask, “are the characters believable?” Conceptual novelists focus on plot, while experimental novelists focus on character. Poetry In poetry, Robert Frost, who spent his career trying to perfect how rhythms and stress patterns affected the meanings of words – so-called “sentence sounds” – wrote “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” when he was forty-eight. Ezra Pound developed his technique of “imagism” when he was twenty-eight, and had thought it through so well he published a set of formal rules. With this conceptual approach, he created the bulk of his influential poems before he was forty, despite living well into his eighties. Movies In film, Orson Welles created Citizen Kane when he was only twenty-six. The carefully-planned conceptual innovations in cinematography and musical score make it widely-regarded as the most influential film ever. Alfred Hitchcock didn't make his most-influential films until the final years of his life, as he was about sixty. He said, “style in directing develops slowly and naturally.” Are you an old master, or young genius? I really enjoyed Old Masters and Young Geniuses. I find this dichotomy of experimental versus conceptual approaches really helpful in understanding why, in general, some creative solutions come quickly, while others take months or years of searching. Do you have a choice in the matter? Galenson is careful to stress that you aren't either an experimental or conceptual creator – it's a spectrum, not a binary designation. But in case you're wondering if you can make yourself a conceptual creator, to become successful more quickly, Galenson says you can't. You might switch from a conceptual to an experimental approach, and find it works better for you, as did Cézanne, or you might try to go from experimental to conceptual and find it doesn't, as did Pissarro. But you can't change the way you think. He told me, “It's like trying to change your brain, and we don't know how to do that.” About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/old-masters-young-geniuses

Do you want to build an audience online, but have such a wide variety of interests, you don't know what to focus on? I think you'll like this interview with David Perell. David Perell (@david_perell) calls himself “The Writing Guy.” He runs the cohort-based online writing school, Write of Passage (I love that name). His marketing is very specific, but he has incredibly diverse interests, and enthusiastically shares content related to those interests online. I went through his links on his website (no longer posted) to prepare for this conversation, and just my highlights of his links were over 6,000 words long! The topics included economics, art, urban planning, golf, music, and much more. I've been really impressed watching David's online presence, so I brought him on the podcast for my first interview episode in more than two years! We'll talk about: The four grants David has gotten from Tyler Cowen's Emergent Ventures. How did he get those grants, and for what projects? Have all the opportunities to grow your audience online passed? David will share what he thinks is the biggest growth opportunity right now. We'll talk about how to please the Twitter algorithm. What about it is “so brutal,” as David says? Topics mentioned Write of Passage David Perell Twitter David Perell's podcast “The Hedgehog and the Fox” by Isaiah Berlin David's viral logo thread Tyler Cowen Tim Ferriss Joe Rogan David Galenson Old Masters and Young Geniuses Pablo Picasso Paul Cézanne Andy Warhol Leonardo da Vinci Raphael Michelangelo Cézanne's studio Claude Monet Impressionism Cubism Space X Mark Manson Tim Urban on Tim Ferriss Hacker News Patrick Mackenzie Quantitative Easing Dodgeball Foursquare Mark Manson Twitter James Clear Twitter "Fake Take" Don't hate the player, hate the game Emergent Ventures Renee Girard lectures Naval Ravikant on leverage The Age of Leverage Nat Eliason on speed versus mass Warren Buffett spends one year deciding The Barbell Strategy for content marketing – Alex Birkett Matthew Fitzpatrick Mark Broadie Strokes Gained Trackman Titlelist Performance Institute About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/david-perell-podcast

In 1977, Richard Bachman published his first novel. In an unusual move for a first-time author, Bachman made his publisher promise to release his books with hardly any marketing. Bachman stacked the dice against himself Bachman's books were to skip the hardcover format and go straight to bargain-bin paperback – the kind you'd find mixed in with other nobody-authors, at a truck stop on I-80, somewhere near Grand Island. He also insisted he was unavailable for interviews, which cut his books off from a key marketing channel. Most publishers wouldn't agree to such bizarre terms, but they were especially excited to release Bachman's books. But he still did pretty well Today, forty-five years later, most people have unsurprisingly never heard of Richard Bachman. His books did alright, though: His fourth was optioned for film rights, his fifth sold 28,000 copies, and he got a couple letters a month from fans of his writing. Bachman wasn't Bachman But his books were so good, one Washington D.C. bookstore clerk was suspicious. Steve Brown dug through the Library of Congress copyright records, and confirmed his suspicion: Richard Bachman was Stephen King. Why did one of the world's hottest authors publish – in the same genre – under a pen name? At the time, King's publisher had an almost-superstitious belief that if they published more than one of his books in a year, they would distract readers from This Year's Book (that they let King publish Bachman books with so little fanfare speaks to their conviction in this belief). King later described it as like being married to someone with a drastically-smaller sexual appetite: He had to find an outlet somewhere else. “Either find an audience or disappear quietly” While he was publishing under a pen name, he figured he'd conduct an experiment. He wondered, to what degree was his massive success due to luck? So, as he has said, Stephen King “stacked the dice” against Richard Bachman. He wanted Bachman's books “to go out there and either find an audience or just disappear quietly.” After word got out that Richard Bachman was Stephen King, his books sold even better. That book that sold 28,000 copies for Richard Bachman – Thinner – quickly sold ten times that as a King title. Is seven years & five books long enough? At first glance, King's Bachman experiment is an open-and-shut case: Bachman's books sold way more copies with Stephen King's name on their covers. But King himself feels his experiment got cut short. He said of Bachman, who he killed off in a press release by “cancer of the pseudonym,” “He died with that question – is it work that takes you to the top or is it all just a lottery? – still unanswered.” Bachman worked in anonymity for seven years, and released five books – how is that not enough? Even the pros don't know William Goldman was a two-time Academy-Award-Winning screenwriter. He wrote the screenplays for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Princess Bride, and Misery (which was supposed to be Richard Bachman's sixth book, but instead was released by Stephen King). In Goldman's book, Adventures in the Screen Trade, he pointed out that in one typical movie season, sixteen major films were released by the major studios. One was a runaway success, and ten of those sixteen lost more than ten million dollars. Why did those studios bother making the stinkers? Because, as Goldman said: Nobody knows anything...... Not one person in the entire motion picture field knows for a certainty what's going to work. Every time out it's a guess and, if you're lucky, an educated one. Nobody knowing anything takes the appeal out of King's Bachman story. It sounded like the perfect story for aspiring creatives to point to and say, “Look, the universe is conspiring against me. If you don't have a big name already, you're screwed.” Nothing guarantees creative success But really, nothing can guarantee success. You could say you have to have connections, and I could point out that Richard Pryor's son played at the Apollo, and got booed off the stage. You could say you need name recognition, and I could tell you that the 28,000 copies Bachman's fifth book sold was four-thousand more than Stephen King's own fourth book sold. You could say all you need is your big break, and I could remind you that Steve Martin was on The Tonight Show – the big break in the comedy business at the time – sixteen times before someone recognized him in public. Nobody knows anything. If movie studios knew blockbusters, that's all they'd make. If record companies knew hits, that's all they'd release. If publishers knew bestsellers, that's all they'd launch. And if venture capitalists knew “unicorns,” they'd just be called capitalists. Quality can't hide Nobody knows anything, but somebody knows something. As Goldman himself said, you can make an educated guess. I bet he'd agree that a ninety-minute cellphone video of a ham sandwich sitting on a plate is unlikely to fill theaters. There was another author, named Robert Galbraith, whose debut novel didn't do great. It sold 1,500 copies in the first few months – not bad either. But there was something fishy about Galbraith's work. A journalist tweeted that she had enjoyed Galbraith's book, but it seemed way too well-written to be the debut novel of who was supposedly a retired military officer. An anonymous account tipped this journalist, saying That's because it's not a debut novel: Robert Galbraith is actually a really well-known author's pseudonym. That led to a computer linguistic analysis and the London Times confronted the alleged author. J. K. Rowling admitted that she was Robert Galbraith, then The Cuckoo's Calling, a crime novel, proceeded to sell like hotcakes. So, of course Rowling's name recognition helped the book sell, but try as she could to hide her identity, she couldn't hide her quality. Her writing was, to paraphrase Steve Martin, so good it couldn't be ignored. Stephen King got to enjoy the anonymity of his pen name for seven years. Rowling hers about three months. Maybe there's some others out there who never got caught, but it seems social media and computer linguistic analysis has shortened the life of pen names. But King and Rowling both had the same problem: You can't hide quality, and you can't hide voice. From the beginning, King got letters asking him if he was Richard Bachman. Bachman had the extra challenge that he wasn't merely copying the style of an author already dominating a genre – he literally was that author. Sometimes a copycat does better than the original, because they can't help but be different as they try to copy. For example, Kurt Cobain said he was trying to rip off the Pixies when he wrote Smells Like Teen Sprit. An exact copy doesn't have much chance, because the original already punctured the exact same vacuum. You can't know anything, so know your work Jerry Seinfeld likes to tell beginning comedians they'll never make it. Because if they hear that from a comedy legend and still do comedy, he figures, they might have a chance. Maybe it's not satisfying that nobody knows anything. It kind of makes you want to throw your hands up and say, What's the use?! But maybe that's a good thing. If you can know that nobody knows anything, and still be dedicated to your craft, maybe you have a shot. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/nobody-knows-anything/

“Crumb time” is the little pieces of time that get lost throughout the day. Instead of giving away your crumb time to unproductive distractions, build systems that complete big projects with small actions. Today, I'll tell you how. Crumb time is everywhere throughout our days. Whenever we do something substantial with our time, little chunks of time of various sizes and shapes fall to the floor. What is crumb time? Crumb time has a combination of the following qualities: Short amounts of time. Crumb time can be less than a minute, or several minutes. Unknown lengths of time. You often don't know when your crumb time will be over. It could end in a few seconds, or a few minutes. Distracting environments. It's hard enough to focus when you don't know when you'll be interrupted, but the environments in which crumb time take place are often noisy, with lots of activity. Some examples of crumb time: Standing in line at an airport: Lots is going on, you're waiting for your boarding call. Riding in a cab: The scenery is changing, but you might have a good idea how much time you have. Waiting for a friend to meet you for lunch: They could come in the door in two seconds, or twenty minutes. Why do we give away crumb time? Crumb time feels insignificant, and we think we need a controlled environment and a big block of time to do anything useful. You don't have the time or mental bandwidth, it seems, to make substantial progress reading a book, or writing an article. So, we doomscroll on Twitter, blow off steam with a game such as Wordle, or do something pseudo-productive such as check email once again. Productive uses of crumb time We just give away our crumb time, but we could turn it into something useful. Here are some things you could do with crumb time: Review highlights in your Zettelkasten: My favorite use of crumb time is reviewing my highlights from a book. I export them to Markdown, and whenever I have a moment, I scroll through the highlights in a plain-text app on my phone. I bold any of the highlights that are extra interesting. When my crumb time is over, I mark my place and lock my phone. Learn about something: A crumb-time list is a key component of a system of curiosity management, which I talked about on episode 284. Keep a list of subjects you'd like to learn about, and when you have crumb time, read a Wikipedia page. (I'm not a fan of read-later apps, because the easier it is to save articles, the harder it is to read all of them). Brainstorm social media updates: Twitter is a great place to share ideas, a terrible place to have them. Brainstorm potential tweets in a text file, to polish and schedule later. How about doing nothing at all? Another valid use of your crumb time is simply doing nothing. But when you choose to do something, you may as well do something useful. Anything other than giving away crumb time is better than building that bad habit. The more you give away crumb time, the easier that becomes the default use of your crumb time. Take a seven-day crumb-time challenge You don't need to change your crumb time habits all at once, forever. Instead, try a seven-day crumb-time challenge. Here's how: Delete social media apps. You can do most things on Twitter or Instagram from desktop. Get them off your phone, to force yourself to make good use of crumb time. Block social media websites. Use the parental controls on your phone to block websites to which you give away your crumb time. For me that's twitter.com and instagram.com. On the iPhone, use the “Limit Adult Websites” feature, and add whatever sites you want to the block list. (You can also add adult websites to the allowed sites if that's your thing.) Set up crumb-time actions. If you have a Zettelkasten, you know what to do. If you don't have one, for a quick-start you could export your highlights from your favorite book and have them available on your phone. Set up a list of things you'd like to look up when you have crumb time. Set up a scratch file for brainstorming social media updates, or set up anything else you could make progress on when you have a minute. Audio crumb time You're of course not always able to use your hands during crumb time, such as when you're driving. This is actually a great reason to have a podcast. Sharing your ideas with others is nice, but if you want to review your own ideas during crumb time, with a podcast you already have a convenient format in which to do so. But, you can also listen to articles or text you'd like to review using the text-to-speech feature on your phone, or an app, such as Otter. Crumb time becomes something bigger I like the term “crumb time” not only because it implies crumb time's perceived insignificance, but also because substantial things consist of crumbs. Bakers talk about the “crumb structure” of a cake, which is the mix of air and pastry that makes up the cake. In agriculture, soil has taken on a “crumb structure” when it has the right amount of moisture for the soil to bead into crumbs. Soil with a crumb structure has an ideal mix of air and moisture to be a good environment for plants to take root, and for microorganisms to assist in the plant's growth. Crumb time is powerful because it seems too insignificant to be worth anything. But if you use your crumb time well, those little pieces of time can build into something bigger. Here are some ways: Write a book: A book is little more than a collection of thoughts, and crumb time is enough to develop individual thoughts. I shared on episode 260 my newsletter system, which makes use of crumb time: My tweets grow into newsletters, which grow into podcast articles, which grow into books. Or, you can take a more direct approach. Walter Isaacson has said he writes on his phone while waiting in the airport, and Kirsten Oliphant wrote an entire book during two weeks' time on the treadmill. Build a database of knowledge: Instead of writing a book, you can aim to build a database of knowledge, such as the Zettelkasten I talked about on episode 250. Highlighting highlights is the easiest use of crumb time, but you can do other Zettelkasten tasks with your crumb time, such as clearing your inbox. Make real progress: Even if you don't aspire to write a book or build a Zettelkasten, you can use your crumb time to make real progress on any of your projects. Think of crumb time as a “context”, a la Getting Things Done. Just as you might mark a next action as “@home”, “@office”, or with my Seven Mental States of creativity, you can mark tasks as “@crumbtime”. Then you have a list of tasks you can do with little time and attention. Imagine what your crumb time could become Pay attention to how you use your crumb time, and you'll find significant uses of time and energy that could be put toward something productive. In the same time and mental effort it takes to play Wordle every day, you could build a database of knowledge, write articles, or even books. I encourage you to try a seven-day crumb-time challenge. Let me know how it goes! Image: Pexals Thank you for having me on your podcasts! Thank you for having me on your podcasts. Thank you to Ben Henley-Smith at Cord's Best Work podcast. As always, you can find all podcasts I've been on at kadavy.net/interviews. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/crumb-time/

Do you ever feel like you don't have the time and energy to learn about everything you want to know? Is it hard to stay focused on reading one book, when there's ten others you want to read? You need curiosity management. Curiosity management is the management of your thirst to know things. In a world with unlimited access to information, and finite time and energy, it's impossible to read every book, watch every documentary, or take every online course. Unmanaged curiosity leads to “curiosity pressure” This leads to a feeling of “curiosity pressure.” Curiosity pressure is the feeling you'll never learn all the things you want to learn. When you're under time pressure – curiosity pressure's close cousin – and feel you don't have enough time to do everything, your anxiety makes it hard to do one thing. When you're under curiosity pressure and feel you can't learn everything, your anxiety makes it hard to learn one thing. A good curiosity-management system matches your level of curiosity with an appropriate level of engagement with the topic, given your available time and energy. The downward spiral of poor retention, & feelings of inadequacy A day in the life of a curious mind looks like this: Think of thing you want to learn about, such as the chemical processes behind making soap. Instantly go to Wikipedia. Follow every link and every footnote. Regain consciousness four hours later, with one-hundred tabs open, and no recollection of what you've consumed. Inexplicably, one of the tabs is about the Lorena Bobbitt scandal. Feel bad that you got nothing done, and didn't learn much either. Surplus curiosity When you don't satisfy your curiosity, despite doing the activities of investigation – such as reading or watching videos – you're overcome with “surplus curiosity.” Surplus curiosity is a feeling you should always be investigating more topics. The anxiety and inadequacy you feel from not satisfying your curiosity cause you to be curious about even more things. This drives a downward spiral: You feel bad for not knowing all you want to know, you want to know more things, but poorly managing your curiosity makes it impossible to satisfy your natural curiosities, much less your surplus curiosities. The goal of curiosity management: Learn just enough, and remember it You're not going to stop being curious. Your curiosity is a good thing. But if you can manage your curiosity, you can remember more of what you consume and reduce curiosity pressure. If you successfully reduce curiosity pressure, you'll reduce the anxiety and feelings of inadequacy that actually drive some surplus curiosity. The fundamental error: All-or-nothing curiosity The fundamental error most curious minds make is they want to learn everything about a topic the moment they become curious about it. Instead of spending five minutes perusing the Wikipedia page, they watch the four-hour documentary. Instead of reading the book summary, they try to read the whole book. This drives the downward cycle: At some point, the media they're engaged with calls for more time and energy than their actual curiosity for the topic merits. This causes fatigue and frustration. Yet there are still so many things they want to learn about, and feelings of anxiety and inadequacy flare up. The most immediate solution seems to be to read more, watch more, consume more – surplus curiosity. Yet little of it is absorbed, and the original curiosity that began the cycle is only vaguely satisfied. The right engagement for the level of curiosity To engage appropriately with what you're curious about, first assess the level of curiosity. There are three: Compulsory curiosity is a feeling that you should know about this. Like, “What is this TikTok thing about?” Cursory curiosity is a feeling you'd like to know something about this topic. Like, “What is Marie Curie's story?” Compulsive curiosity is a driving obsession to learn everything you can about a topic. If you need an example, you don't need curiosity management. Of course, as you learn about topics, your level of curiosity may progress. You try TikTok a few minutes and are intrigued. You read the Marie Curie Wikipedia page, and want to learn much more. Your compulsive curiosity may be more intense for one topic than another, or change from day to day. Three basic components of curiosity management The main mechanism behind curiosity management is categorizing topics about which you're curious according to the level of curiosity, and engaging with those topics only to the point that your curiosity is either satisfied, or further aroused (with some exceptions). I propose four components to a good modern curiosity-management system: A rule: Never consume information upon first encountering it: (With one exception, coming up.) Take only a quick glance to assess your level of curiosity about the information, and the informations' potential for satisfying that curiosity. Then put it in the appropriate place, for later processing. Keep a “crumb-time” list: Your crumb-time list has things about which you have either compulsory or cursory curiosity, with a simple action that will satisfy that level of curiosity. Use your crumb-time list during “crumb-time” – those little pockets of time of indefinite shape and size with which you normally do unproductive activities such as check social media or play Wordle. An example list item would be: “Watch a YouTube video on the chemical processes behind making soap.” Deep curiosity time blocks: Have regular time blocks for deep investigation about things that have reached the level of compulsive curiosity. Give yourself time to read books, and watch documentaries. ”Cheat” pockets: Freewheeling engagement with your curiosity is fun. If you never allow yourself to open a hundred tabs on your browser again, you'll do it anyway and drive the downward spiral. Much like some diets allow a “cheat day,” a good curiosity-management system has pockets of time during which you allow yourself to be at the whim of your curiosity. It might be Friday afternoons, or fifteen minutes after lunch – so long as you're actually able to prevent yourself from slipping into internet-induced comas. Using your curiosity-management system That's the basic structure of a curiosity-management system, now, some examples of how to use it. A topic comes to mind that you'd like to learn about, such as Soviet dekulakization. Don't stop what you're doing or suppress your curiosity. Put it on your crumb-time list to look at later. You have a few minutes while waiting for an appointment to start – aka “crumb-time.” Open your crumb-time list on your phone, and find a topic that fits the time and energy you have available, and your level of interest. Do a quick search, or visit a link you've already saved. If your curiosity is satisfied, move it to a “done” section of your crumb-time list. If you've become more curious, move it to a “second-level” section, to investigate more, later. If you're intensely curious and have time available within your deep-curiosity blocks, you may graduate to buying a book. You see a link you want to investigate, while investigating something else on your crumb-time list. Open it in another tab and give it a quick glance. If you're interested in learning more, put it on your crumb-time list. Close the tab, then get back to the original article. Note-taking supports curiosity management You'll better satisfy your curiosity if you don't forget what you've just learned. So, a note-taking system, such as a zettelkasten, supports a curiosity-management system. Take notes even on items for which you have merely compulsory or cursory curiosity. Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good. You don't even have to take perfect notes. You've just invested time and energy in learning about this topic, so you'll never remember more than you do right now. Jot down a few of the things you remember. It could be as simple and informal as “saponification uses a strong base to break apart fat molecules and make soap.” Start managing your curiosity Those are my initial thoughts on curiosity management – why it matters, what it consists of, and how to construct a system for managing your curiosity. There are of course many details and inner workings I didn't include, or that would vary from one person to another. Do you find this idea useful? Say hello on Twitter, or email me. Image: Red Waistcoat by Paul Klee About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/curiosity-management/

Five years ago, I wrote about how - after ten years as a self-employed independent creator - I hoped to "make it." I now realize, I never will. Five years ago, I sat at my keyboard to have a serious conversation with myself. It had been ten years since I had woken up to a day with nothing scheduled, and wondered how I was going to fill it with something that both made life worth living, and also paid the bills. In this conversation, I asked myself, How did you end up here? Have you made a big mistake? I had spent a good chunk of my retirement savings, left Silicon Valley in the midst of a boom, and now found myself barely getting by in South America. About a thousand words in, I stopped and cracked into tears, not only because I was scared out of my mind, but because still – despite not seeing a clear path to making this work - I couldn't see myself giving up. I concluded: Take it from me, a ten-year veteran self-employed creator: If you are looking for security or reassurance, I do not recommend this line of work. However, if you are burning with curiosity – if your heart and intuition lead you to do things that don't make sense – well, then you don't really have a choice in the matter, do you? When I was done with that conversation, I had a massive vulnerability hangover. I felt embarrassed to publish it, but since I had resolved to be writer, I felt I had to. However, I didn't do anything I normally did to promote a post: no Medium publication, no email blast, no podcast episode, not even a tweet. I just quietly pressed “Publish” and got on with my day. It slowly, then quickly, became the most popular thing I had ever written. Now, five years later, I've been a full-time creator for fifteen years. (It wasn't called that when I started. I was just a weird guy who wouldn't get a job.) Not long after publishing my personal conversation, I started publicly reporting my income on my blog. While more famous bloggers were excitedly reporting six- and seven-figure months, I was reporting one three-thousand-dollar month after another. One month I even lost money. However, about a year ago, my numbers started to climb. I recently reported a six-figure-year for the first time. I had made six-figures before the reports, but most of that was from an uninspiring blog I had written under a pseudonym. This was the first time I could look at every dollar I had made and say to myself, "I made this money doing exactly what I want to be doing. I am officially me for a living." I looked in the mirror later that day at the gray hairs that have come to dominate my beard and the stray ones sprouting from my temples. I thought back to when I was twenty-five and I'd stare in the mirror, looking at the young man I felt was full of potential, but who had no idea how to get out of Nebraska. Every cell of skin and hair on my body had regenerated since then, but I figured I still had the same eyes. So I looked into them and said, "You did it, kid. You made it." Not the next day, nor the day after that, but soon after, I felt a deeper emptiness than I had before. I thought back to my twenty-five year old self hearing for the hundredth time the CAD technician with hair as tall as the man was wide yell out, as he waddled through the break room, “Kadavy, with another Banquet meal!” Those microwaveable meals had been frequently on sale at Hy-Vee, ten for eight dollars, and the best strategy I could come up with in 2004 had been to save up and buy Apple and Google stock. As I had rolled my eyes and sighed at the Office-Space-like monotony of my existence, I would have gladly traded places with my current life. I had struggled for so long, so hard, and had passed up so many other opportunities a normal person would have taken. I risked failure, and hadn't failed. Why did I feel a lack of inspiration, a malaise? Around that time, I read and resonated deeply with an essay by Joan Didion, where she marvels at how a six-month stay in New York crept into eight years, "with the deceptive ease of a film dissolve." Young, foolish, and non-committal, she felt she "could stay up all night and make mistakes, and none of it would count." It wasn't until it was over she had realized, "it had counted after all." The dozenth friend said to me recently, "If you can sell 25,000 copies of a book, do you have any idea how much you could make on a course, consulting, or coaching!?" I politely explained I had heard the same many times before and I had tried courses, consulting, and coaching, and didn't enjoy them. Basically, what I wrote five years ago: I want to make a living creating. I don't want creating to be merely a marketing strategy for other things. Is that completely insane? This friend, like seemingly all I had at the beginning of this fifteen-journey, is now a millionaire. Did I feel this emptiness because it had taken so long to get here? Because there are many more definitions of “making it,” financially, beyond a six-figure income – that everyone else seems to reach so easily? I know every time I hear an outrageously popular twenty-something creator on a podcast say, "I wrote online for a long time before I had success. Like eight months," I scoff and wonder, Just how fucking bad at this am I? Maybe this six-figure milestone so close to my fifteen-year anniversary was just a reminder that it had all counted. Maybe it brings to the surface memories of the times I almost had a big break: Like the time I paid my own way to fly from Colombia to San Francisco to be interviewed on a massive podcast, only for them to can it. Or the time a big chest-thumping entrepreneur podcast didn't run my interview because I openly told them how little money I made (given my public income reports, I wonder why they bothered inviting me). Or, maybe I had failed at what I had actually wanted, but had invented a false goal ex post-facto, so what counted wouldn't feel as if it had gone to waste. I dug into the paper trail I've left throughout this journey. The stack of journals I've collected confirmed that this, indeed, was something I had wanted all along. In 2007, just before getting fired, I wrote, "I have lots of projects in mind, but the main one is making 'being David Kadavy' my full-time job." There it was, plain as day. As I continued my investigation into potential revisionist history, I re-read my conversation to myself after ten years as a creator, and saw a graph: On New Year's Eve, as 2008 turned to 2009, I stayed home by myself and schemed on my mission to make it as a creator. I knelt on the hardwood next to my portable radiator and drew this graph on an eleven-dollar piece of tileboard from The Home Depot. The plan was for "Active" income to give way to "Passive" income, to give way to "Speculative" income. In other words, I would freelance just enough to get by, build passive income on the side, and as that passive income built, I would follow my curiosity and see what I could find. I had done exactly that: I had freelanced ten hours a week, made $150,000 on a passive income stream, and through the exploration I had done on the side, gotten my first book deal, then built this career as an author. I had followed my plan perfectly. When a successful author friend had warned me not to write my first book – that there were better ways to make a living – I had reasoned I was just starting, maybe after ten years I'd be really good. In the back of my mind, I thought I could do it faster. Suffice to say, this has taken way longer than I had imagined. Didion's essay resonated with me because some part of me didn't expect these years to count. At forty-three, with one parent gone, having narrowly-missed losing the other, and with my own body declining, I feel as if I'm in the final levels of a video game. I've gained power-ups and magic swords hidden along the way and in many ways feel more capable than ever. But that meter at the bottom of the screen marked “life” is lower, and I'm increasingly paranoid I'll be devoured by a dragon before I storm the castle. I ultimately realized, this emptiness wasn't unfamiliar. I had felt it in some small way at every major milestone in this journey. With every goal I had achieved, there had been emptiness that followed the absence of that goal. That emptiness was soon replaced by the pursuit of the next. But, this was the top of the mountain. There was no next goal on the horizon. Maybe I should feel bad for how long this has taken. Maybe I'm putting up blinders I won't see around until it's too late, and I'll later be overcome by crippling regret. More likely, the journey is the destination. The beginning of each creative project is characterized by an emptiness, a void that must be filled through the act of creation. It's a great feeling to go from spinning your wheels to getting traction, but ultimately, you want to go back to the starting line and do it again. To once more see if you can storm the castle. You could argue I feel this way because this struggle is all I know. I've been at it so long, like Red and Brooks in The Shawshank Redemption, I've become "institutionalized." But one got busy living and the other got busy dying, and as Victor Frankl has said, "What man actually needs is not a tensionless state but rather the striving and struggling for a worthwhile goal, a freely chosen task." So, after fifteen years, I've "made it" as a creator, financially-speaking, in a relatively minor way, for now. But maybe the best part of making it is realizing you now have the privilege of feeling you haven't. So you can freely struggle to reach your destination, only to do it again. Take it from me, a fifteen-year veteran self-employed creator: You're burning with curiosity. Your heart and intuition lead you to do things that don't make sense. You feel you have no choice but to take this path. But be forewarned: Once you get to where you so deeply ache to arrive, your journey won't be over. You can "make it" in one way or another, but to be happy with this life, you must always find a way to feel you still haven't. Photo by Ryan Halvorsen About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/fifteen-years/

I recently advertised my book on a billboard in Times Square. It was cheaper than you think, and was up for less time than you might expect. But it's still paying dividends. Times Square is a big deal (duh) Times Square is the epitome of mainstream success. The biggest brands have locations there, and any big brand you can name advertises there. 350,000 people walk through Times Square on a typical day. It's also one of the most-photographed places on Earth, with many of those photos and videos being shared on television shows such as Good Morning America, and on TikTok or Instagram. A lowly self-published book advertised next to the biggest brands When my friend, Robbie Abed, told me you can advertise in Times Square for cheap, I knew I had to run an ad for Mind Management, Not Time Management. A book about a new approach to time management, in a city obsessed with time management, in a place with “time” right in the name? It was a match made in heaven! The very thought of my lowly self-published book advertised on the front of Forever 21, above a Sunglass Hut, across from the Disney store, next to McDonald's, in Times Square made me laugh the maniacal laughter of an evil villain plotting to take over the world – in some Disney movie, of course. Will a billboard sell books? Before I explain how I advertised in Times Square for cheap, I'm sure some of you are thinking, “Will advertising on a billboard sell books?” You're right to think that since people are walking or driving through Times Square, even if they noticed my billboard in this place that is nearly all billboards, they're not going to stop what they're doing, take out their phones, and order my book on Amazon. The making of a pseudo-event But that's not the point. By advertising my book in Times Square, I was creating a “pseudo-event”. I talked about pseudo-events in my summary of Daniel J. Boorstin's The Image on episode 257. A pseudo-event is a reality constructed just so it can be covered in media. By being covered in media, the constructed reality becomes reality. Pseudo-events can be funny, or horrifying. They can be based upon truth, or lies. But our media is full of them. Most “leaks” you see, every talk-show interview, and every planned event are pseudo-events. Instagram is one pseudo-event after another. Reality is constructed for media, and media constructs our reality. My book really was advertised in Times Square. My lowly self-published book really is a “big deal.” How much does a Times Square ad cost? People want to know, how much does it cost to advertise your book in Times Square? Some people guess five-thousand dollars. Some guess twenty-. I advertised my book on a Times Square billboard with Blip Billboards. Blip is a platform that lets you buy short displays of an ad on electronic billboards across the U.S. Each “blip” lasts fifteen seconds. I paid about nine cents per blip in tests I ran in Chicago, and had a blip run in Times Square for as little as twenty dollars. “As little as” twenty dollars? I'll get into my exact costs in a bit. But first, was my pseudo-event worth it? Here are some of my wins from this fifteen-second ad so far. Win #1: A retweet from Tim Ferriss My first big win from my Times Square billboard was a retweet from Tim Ferriss. Tim Ferriss asks his podcast guests what message they would advertise to the world. I've always thought if I were asked that question, my answer would be the title of my book, Mind Management, Not Time Management. So, I made sure one of my billboards was as plain as possible. It just said, “Mind Management, Not Time Management.” Then, I shared a video of the billboard on Twitter, making sure to tag Tim (whom I've never met nor talked to). It was a long shot, but it worked. Tim retweeted it. Tim has 1.8 million followers. I did see a decent spike in sales. Hard to know if this was the cause, but I didn't have competing promotions. Win #2: Speaking for the New York Public Library My second win was speaking for the New York Public Library. When I emailed my readers to let them know my book was advertised in Times Square, it turned out one reader organizes events for the New York Public Library. This reader was excited to hear about my book being advertised in Times Square, and this prompted them to invite me to speak over Zoom to the library's audience. They promoted the event to their email list of one million subscribers, and the day before the event, my new friend there informed me that: The NYPL stocked all of my books, in paper, ebook, and audiobook formats. My event was featured on NYPL's home page My book was selected as the NYPL Business Center's “book of the month.” The video of my speaking event is now listed on the library's CEO series page, along with talks by Marie Forleo, Seth Godin, and A.J. Jacobs. I also got a couple links to my website from nypl.org, high-authority links which boost my site in search rankings. Win #3: Advertising that paid for itself My third win is that some of my advertising paid for itself. And I don't mean through book sales. If you sign up for Blip, you'll get $25 free advertising credit. Some people have already used that link, and apparently spent enough for me to also earn a couple $50 credits, which reduced the price of my ads! Win #4: ? My Times Square ad came and went in a flash, but it continues to pay dividends I can't predict. For example, in May I was telling someone at a conference in Phoenix about advertising in Times Square, and it turned out they had already seen one of my posts about it. There's no telling who is reading this article, and what effect it will have on them. Like I talked about on episode 280, hidden complexity makes simple actions very powerful. Fun pseudo-events like this breed positive Black Swans. A pseudo-event lasts a moment, but lives on forever. A Times Square ad lasts a moment, but the photo, video, and story lasts forever. What did this cost? I advertised on a Times Square billboard for as little as $20, but what did this all cost in the end? Here's the breakdown: Chicago test campaign: $65.58 (I ran some test campaigns in Chicago, to get familiar with the system.) Times Square campaign: $290 (I ran a small test, got impressions for as little as $20, but then increased my bids and budget to be sure the ad would run during a given time block.) Photographer: $200 (I got referred to a photographer from my friend, Robbie Abed, who had found them on Craigslist. I hired them for the one hour my ads were scheduled to run.) Blip referral credits: -$100 (A couple people must have used my referral link, and spent enough for me to get $50 in credits each.) Total cost: $455.58 This was a really fun campaign, and though the ROI isn't as clear as the Amazon ads I talk about in my income reports, I think it's safe to say it has been paying off, and still is. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/book-times-square-billboard/

We all have 24 hours in a day. We all have 7 days a week. So when you are someone close to you says, "I don't have enough time." What do you say?     We share our perspective learnings about our relationship with time from a personal level and in our professional journey in dealing with clients over the last 20 years.      We teach clients to look at time like money. Like get an ROI out of time. Just like a business.      Here is our BIG 5 Tips for Time Management success.    Not Time Management. Its ME Management.  Simply start tracking your time (just like nutrition)  Look at your time objectively. Your email outbox. Your receipts. And your calender.  Leverage technology and schedule yourself out as far as you can. Don't priortize your calendar. Schedule your prioritizes.    Peace ✌

In fifteen years as a self-employed creator, I've learned how to finish what matters. I follow a nine-step process that makes an easy-to-remember acronym, that also describes what this process does: E.R.A.S.E. F.E.A.R. Fear is Resistance Fear is at the root of most struggles to finish creative projects. Even when you think you're merely getting interested in another project, that's often fear masquerading as curiosity. Steven Pressfield calls it Resistance. It can cause the dreaded shiny object syndrome. But if you can break down most of the sources of fear, you can clear the way for decisive action. You can erase fear. The E.R.A.S.E. F.E.A.R process First, what does “erase fear” stand for? Envision the outcome Rehearse the process Ask questions Search for answers Enjoy the process Face the obstacles End perfectionism Assess the outcome Record the process A little more about each of those. 1. Envision the outcome. If you have a clear picture of the outcome you want, you can reverse-engineer your way to making it happen. Executing visions is a skill to work on, because we usually have a vision that outpaces our current abilities and resources. To get better at envisioning, work on your vision muscle. Practice having a vision, then carrying it out. You do this every time you cook a recipe or plan a party. Write down the outcome you'd like to see. Use the methodology I described on episode 245, about the avocado challenge, to rate your odds of success. 2. Rehearse the process. Once you have a vision, mentally rehearse the steps. Do you have any idea what steps to follow to make this vision a reality? I want “Goldilocks” fear in my projects. If you know exactly what to do, it won't be fun. If you don't know where to begin, you'll be paralyzed. You want just the right amount of fear, to keep it interesting. If you're too familiar with the process, ask yourself, How can you scale up your vision? If you're too unfamiliar, ask yourself, How can you scale it down? 3. Ask questions about the gaps in your knowledge. Now you have a vision that challenges you just the right amount. There are parts of the process you don't understand. These unknowns can be sources of fear: They could turn out to be way more complicated than you expected, which would put in jeopardy your ability to follow through. Write down the questions you have about the process. 4. Search for answers. Look at your questions about the process. Set aside time and energy to answer them. You can make a surprising amount of progress just guessing. Before you ask anyone else, ask yourself, How would I do this? You might find a new way of doing things. If too much is unknown, you may have to scale back your vision once again. If it's all too easy, you may need to scale it up. But don't get frustrated if you don't find all the answers. You'll learn them in the next step. 5. Enjoy the process. You've planned and worked to pick the right project. But you can't go into it without some unknowns. Otherwise, by definition, it wouldn't be a creative project. You'll find the rest of the answers to your questions in the act of doing. This is where you need to do a little mental wrestling. Whatever fear you have, flip it over and slam it on its back. Turn that fear into excitement about discovery. If you've done the first four steps well, picking the right-sized project with the right amount of uncertainty, you'll be able to pull this off. 6. Face the obstacles. As hard as you try to take on a project you can handle, you're going to run into obstacles. Fear often manifests itself as convenient excuses. The most dangerous excuses are the true ones. Yes, your project hasn't gone as planned or a bomb went off in your personal life, but that doesn't mean this is impossible. Slaughter your scapegoats and move forward. Anything worth doing requires some grit. 7. End perfectionism. You're nearing the end of your project. In fact, you could ship it right now. That is, if it weren't for perfectionism. Perfectionism can turn the final five percent of a project into a hundred-five percent. Just when you put on one “final touch”, you notice another that needs to be improved. Part of this is due to the Finisher's Paradox, which I talked about on episode 267: You learn in the process of a project, so by the end, you can already do better. Another part of it is fear. Fear makes you anxious. When you're anxious, you notice imperfections. Some of those imperfections are figments of your imagination. You've done all you can up to this point to erase fear, but there's still going to be some in the final stretch. Know perfectionism is there, and push through to ship. Like I talked about on episode 265, shipping is a skill. 8. Assess the outcome. Even though we're done with the project, we're not done erasing fear. Now that your project is out in the world, ask yourself, How did it turn out? Look back on the vision you wrote down, and your predictions about success. Does it fit that vision, and if not, why? What did you not foresee? What would you do differently next time? Write it down. 9. Record the process. Reflect on the actual process you followed. Write it down, and brainstorm how you might do it better next time. You now have a process you can follow, even if it's just a Sloppy Operating Procedure, like I talked about on episode 224. Preparation is the antidote to fear. The next time you do a project like this, you can do it a little bigger, so you add a few unknowns to the new process that keep it interesting. Go forth and erase fear This process is exactly how I erase fear in my projects, whether it's in the three books I've written, or more than 280 podcast episodes. I hope it works for you, too. Image: Broadway Boogie Woogie, by Piet Mondrian About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/erase-fear/

If you are a creative person, then you've probably already experienced creative burnout. It can be frustrating and discouraging. How do you deal with it? How can you manage it? Let's talk about it in this episode... The book Mind Management, Not Time Management was referenced in this episode. It is a fantastic study of creativity and the mind. You can find it on Amazon at this link: https://www.amazon.com/Mind-Management-Not-Time-Productivity-ebook/dp/B08DQGLPSN --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/braamcast/support

On Episode #69 of the Book Talk Today podcast we are joined by David Kadavy. David Kadavy is an author, podcaster, and self-publishing coach. His books include, The Heart to Start: Stop Procrastinating & Start Creating, Design for Hackers and his latest book Mind Management, Not Time Management. David's Website - https://kadavy.net/ David's Book - https://amzn.to/3NOO1BE

When Facebook was first expanding, they used a timeless military strategy to win their most-crucial first users. You can use this strategy to attack your toughest projects, by leveraging hidden complexity to lend devastating power to simple actions. Facebook faced tough competitors When Facebook was starting, in the mid-aughts, it was only available at colleges. It wasn't easy to win new users on campuses that had their own social networks. Who wants to join the network nobody is on? That's not where you find the big parties. That's not how you spy on your crush. There was no point in promoting to students who already had better alternatives. Facebook would waste their limited resources, driving themselves out of business. There were plenty of competitors they needed to outlast. An established network at a college was a barrier to winning over any user at that college – a “defense,” if you will. Facebook needed to break through those barriers. The surround strategy: Attack from the flanks So they used what they called a “surround strategy”. Instead of directly trying to get users on a given campus, they got them indirectly. The strategy that decimated the Roman army 1800 years ago Facebook's surround strategy was borrowed from the “pincer” military strategy. When you're up against an opponent with strong defenses, it's often not the best use of your resources to attack them head-on. It's better to focus on the flanks. Hannibal used a pincer strategy in one of the greatest military upsets in history, at the Battle of Cannae, in 216 B.C., sending the Roman empire into a panic. As the Romans attacked from a concentrated center, the center of Hannibal's forces fell back, creating a “crescent” shape that helped them attack the flanks. Eventually, Hannibal had the Romans surrounded. The Romans lost so many men that day, they had to lower the draft age to replenish their forces, and they reverted to using human sacrifices to try to please the gods. How Facebook won key users indirectly Facebook used this pincer strategy to indirectly win users at Baylor University, in Texas, which already had its own social network. Instead of promoting Facebook to users at Baylor, they focused on campuses near Baylor There weren't already competing social networks at UT Arlington, a one and a half-hour drive to the north; Southwestern University, a one-hour drive to the southwest; and Texas A&M, a one and a half-hour drive to the southeast. To get the dirt on their exes, they needed to be on Facebook While Facebook wasn't wasting resources trying to get Baylor students to switch social networks, those students started to hear about Facebook, anyway. The students in these surrounding colleges were former high-school classmates of the Baylor students. They were driving to one another's campuses to bong beers and eat jello shots. They were hearing rumors their high-school sweethearts were getting naked with half the campus. They were laughing maniacally upon hearing the former bully was found passed out, naked with an armadillo. To get the dirt, to creep on one another's profiles, or, sometimes to just stay in touch, they too needed Facebook accounts. So, without any promotion at Baylor, Facebook started winning users at Baylor. The birthday problem reveals the hidden complexity that make the surround strategy work This surround strategy works better than people expect it to. To understand why, think about the birthday problem, which I talked about on episode 237. How many people have to be in a room for a fifty-percent chance two of them have the same birthday? Most people guess 180 or 150, but the real answer: only twenty-three. The odds of shared birthdays climb rapidly as you add the first few dozen people to the room. Network effects between each person's potential birthdates quickly add potential matches. Adding one person to a room of twenty people doesn't add just one potential match, it adds twenty. Network effects...outside the network Facebook's surround strategy leveraged these network effects. The colleges they focused on didn't have social networks, so Facebook quickly became very appealing, as they added users. Meanwhile, Facebook also became more appealing to the students at Baylor. Who wants to use a social network that only has students from your college?! With each new user Facebook added in a neighboring campus, they added multiple contacts to potential new users at Baylor. After someone heard about Facebook enough times, they had to sign up. As Hannibal's men surrounded Rome's, there were more angles from which each soldier on Hannibal's front could attack soldiers on Rome's front, but not vice-versa. A complementary strategy to the pincer is also the “pocket,” or isolating small portions of a battalion to conquer them bit by bit. Surround & conquer your dreams Now, how can you use this surround strategy on some of your biggest and most-intimidating visions? When you want to accomplish something that's too big to attack head-on, use the surround strategy to break down the project's defenses. Here's how to surround, and conquer, your toughest projects: Make a list of all the things you'd need to know or have to accomplish your goal. Brainstorm ways you could learn those skills or gain those resources with smaller projects. Take on the smaller projects that are most interesting to you, or that use your existing resources. As you take on these smaller projects related to your target project, network effects take over. The skills and resources you gain will make the larger project seem easier than it would otherwise, and you get some successes to build your confidence along the way, and learn the skill of shipping, like I talked about on episode 265. Surround & conquer Shakespeare Here's a very simple example: Let's say you want to read a Shakespeare play, but you can't keep track of what everyone is saying in that language that doth make one scratch one's head. Do this: Watch the movie. Read the Wikipedia page. Listen to the podcast. Finally, read the play. By staking out the easier-to-conquer territory in your mind, it's easier to conquer the more-fortified territory, and run back for supplies – or a reminder of what the heck is going on, based upon the other ways you've heard the story. How creators surround & conquer Other creators use the surround strategy, whether they say so, or not. Before the Steves Jobs and Wozniak built their first Mac, they worked on “blue boxes” they used to tap into phone networks and make prank calls. It was just a fun and mischievous and illegal project, but it helped build their collaborative relationship on something smaller and less complex. Henry Ford got a job working on steam engines, while running experiments in his garage to perfect the internal combustion engine. He made a living gaining the background he needed, and making connections with potential investors, while on nights and weekends he tinkered on the finer details. Michelangelo didn't paint the Sistine Chapel ceiling from scratch. He had libraries of plaster-casted drapery and terra cotta body parts he mixed and matched to draw compelling figures in his scenes. How I use the surround strategy I, personally, use the surround strategy whenever I can. For example, I want to write fiction, though I'm not a huge fiction reader myself. But, I do like movies. So, I've been reading screenplays of my favorite movies and reading the novels those movies are based upon, while dabbling in short stories under a pen name, and working on my storytelling skills in my non-fiction writing whenever possible. I'm learning to love fiction, while working on my fiction-writing skills. In fact, all my work is a surround strategy for conquering new books. Each of my tweets, my weekly Love Mondays newsletters, my podcast episodes and articles and notes in my Zettelkasten, are experiments with progressively larger ideas, the best of which build into a book every few years or so. Go forth and conquer The next time you're dreaming about something that seems impossible, surround it with projects that are possible. Then, your bigger dreams will be easier to conquer. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/surround-conquer/

Industrial Society and Its Future, is otherwise known as “The Unabomber Manifesto,” written by Ted Kaczynski. Kaczynsnki is a terrorist who killed three people, and injured twenty-three others, by sending bombs through the mail, between 1978 and 1995. He used his terror campaign to exploit the negativity bias of media and pressure the Washington Post and New York Times into publishing his 35,000-word anti-technology manifesto. Obviously, what Kaczynski did was horrible, but his manifesto is a thought-provoking, albeit extreme, perspective on technology. And so here is my summary of Industrial Society and Its Future. Leftism creeps towards totalitarianism The manifesto begins with a seemingly out-of-place rant about leftism creeping toward totalitarianism: According to Kaczynski, leftists have low self-esteem, are defeatist, and hate themselves. They hate success, and feel the groups they try to protect are inferior. They are overburdened by guilt over their natural drives, and so want to turn into issues of morality things that don't have anything to do with morality, such as policing the use of words to which they themselves have applied negative connotations. Anti-left is not far-right When people hear anti-leftism, they tend to assume the person with those views is far-right. But it's worth noting that's not Kaczynski's view. A quote, for example: [Leftists] want to preserve African American culture. But in what does this preservation of African American culture consist? It can hardly consist in anything more than eating black-style food, listening to black-style music, wearing black-style clothing and going to a black- style church or mosque. In other words, it can express itself only in superficial matters. In all ESSENTIAL respects most leftists of the oversocialized type want to make the black man conform to white, middle-class ideals. In sum, Kaczynski is anti-left, because ultimately leftists still work to preserve the industrial system. This appears to come out of “left-field,” but the meat of the manifesto is more coherent, and later we'll better understand why he brought up his views on leftism. Industrial society robs us of the “Power Process” As industrial society progresses, Kaczynski says, people lose more and more freedom. This makes them miserable, because it robs them of what he calls the “power process.” The power process consists of four main elements: A goal Effort put forth toward that goal The attainment of that goal Autonomy in pursuit of that goal To be happy, a person needs goals that require effort, a reasonable rate of success in achieving those goals, and personal control throughout that process. We replace the power process with “surrogate activities” You might think we, in industrial society, have many goals we pursue and attain through effort, but Kaczynski says we merely pursue what he calls “surrogate activities.” Surrogate activities are artificial goals, because they aren't for the purposes of meeting our basic biological needs, and so aren't totally fulfilling. He says we merely think surrogate activities, such as our jobs, are fulfilling, because we have to do very little in industrial society to meet our basic biological needs – such as eating, or having shelter. So, we've never felt true fulfillment. All we do is either easy or impossible He says there are three kinds of drives we experience in the pursuit of goals: 1) minimal effort, 2) serious effort and 3) impossible. The power process, he says, is more about group two, or serious effort. Our surrogate activities require minimal effort. But at the same time, many other things are impossible in industrial society, because we don't have control over them. For example, our security depends upon decisions made by others, such as safety standards at a nuclear power plant, how much pesticide is in our foods, and how much pollution is in our air. Somebody else makes these decisions for us, and in many cases we can't even know if what we're being told is true. As technology grants freedoms, it takes them away He points out that technology seems to grant us freedoms, but it really takes them away. As each advance in technology is collectively accepted, we lose control in some new area. Cars have become so ubiquitous you can't walk in many places. So you need to get further integrated into the industrial system by getting a drivers' license, insurance, and registration. Or, you can take the bus and have even less freedom. As we're increasingly able to alter our genes, it will become harder to enforce a code of ethics. First, genetic engineering will be used to treat genetic diseases, then further alterations will be seen as “good.” The upper class will decide what's good or not, until we have a genetically-engineered upper class, and a distantly-lower class taking genetic rolls of the dice. (This is already happening, as gene splicing is being used to treat diseases such as sickle-cell anemia, meanwhile a scientist in China crossed the agreed-upon ethics line and genetically-engineered children.) We'll outsource decisions to computers, until we no longer understand ourselves the decisions the computers are making. So we'll keep them running to keep the system afloat. At that point, the machines will be in control. Kaczynski thinks mood-altering drugs are over-prescribed, often just to deal with the psychological stress of living in industrial society. If more people need, say, antidepressants to tolerate living in a depressing world, that world is then allowed to get even more depressing, until the drugs are a requirement. (This reminds me of the soma everyone in modern society takes in the dystopian science-fiction book, Brave New World. That book has also been made into a series.) My thoughts: Coronavirus and the power process I couldn't help but think about this loss of control Kaczynski describes as I watched people's behavior during the coronavirus pandemic. While I personally chose to follow protocols and get a vaccine, it was an interesting moment when industrial society clashed with individual autonomy. To sustain industrial society – which is so ubiquitous it's impossible to “opt-out” – institutions deemed it necessary to make blanket decisions on the behalf of individuals. Some people weren't cool with that. Whether their reasoning made logical sense was irrelevant – the emotional roots of their reactions were understandable. Industrial society and the gig economy One thought-provoking quote from the manifesto sounds like a prediction of the gig economy. It has been suggested, for example, that a great development of the service industries might provide work for human beings. Thus people would spent [sic] their time shining each other's shoes, driving each other around in taxicabs, making handicrafts for one another, waiting on each other's tables, etc. This seems to [me] a thoroughly contemptible way for the human race to end up, and [I] doubt that many people would find fulfilling lives in such pointless busy-work. They would seek other, dangerous outlets (drugs, crime, “cults,” hate groups) unless they were biologically or psychologically engineered to adapt them to such a way of life. Industrial society makes us fear mortality Your immediate reaction might be that industrial society is worth the lack of control. It increases average lifespan, and prevents early deaths from infant mortality, disease, or relatively easy fixes, such as an appendicitis. Kaczynski says our obsession with longevity and staying youthful is a symptom of our lack of fulfillment, due to the disruption of the power process. If we lived lives full of autonomous struggle toward goals that directly met our biological needs, we would be more at peace with aging and death. A quote: It is not the primitive man, who has used his body daily for practical purposes, who fears the deterioration of age, but the modern man, who has never had a practical use for his body beyond walking from his car to his house. Activism is a surrogate activity He then ties the disruption of the power process back to his criticism of leftism. He says leftists' surrogate activity is activism, or joining social movements. They have a goal, and struggle toward achieving that goal, but they'll never be satisfied. This, he says, is how leftism creeps toward totalitarianism. Once one goal is achieved, another will be invented. The proposed plan: let the system destroy itself His entire manifesto is written from the perspective of “we.” He poses as a group of people called “FC,” standing for “Freedom Club,” and presents a strategy for his goal of destroying industrial society, and replacing it with primitive society. Kaczynski points out that modernity separates us from our local communities. We break ties to family and move, so we can work a job, in the name of efficiency. He advocates for living in small groups, and growing his anti-technology movement by having as many children as possible. The conflict line: masses vs. power-holding elites Interestingly, he says to draw the conflict line in this movement between the masses and the power-holding elites, and cautions specifically against turning it into a conflict between those who are revolutionaries and those who are not. This is some impressive strategic thinking, as it was also mentioned in the book, Blueprint for Revolution. I interviewed the author, Srdja Popovic, on episode 179. Popovic pointed out, for example, that Occupy Wall Street was a poorly-branded movement, because it drew a conflict line between those who could participate by camping out in the financial district, and those who could not. Calling it “the 99%” would have drawn a more effective conflict line. Don't strive for political power Counterintuitively, Kaczynski advises to not try to gain political power. He says that if the “green” party were to get voted into office, it would cause massive unemployment, they would get voted out of office, and it would turn people off to the party. He supported free trade agreements such as NAFTA, because he felt it would further integrate the industrial system, making it more likely it would collapse, and causing such a collapse to be more widespread. He says to be anti-left – and this is where we start to see the motives behind his seemingly-out-of-place opening rant. He doesn't want to see leftists take over his movement, because he thinks they would replace the goal of eliminating modern technology with their own goals. He says leftists will never give up technology because ultimately they crave power. Basically, he doesn't want to work within any existing structures of industrial society. He instead wants to see living in industrial society get so bad that the hardships can only be blamed on the system. Small-scale technology is more robust than large-scale He says small-scale technology is robust to shocks – local things such as planting crops, raising livestock, or making clothes. He points out that when the Roman Empire fell, people in villages could still make a water wheel or steel. But the aqueducts were never rebuilt, their road-construction techniques were lost, and urban sanitation was forgotten. Media manipulation, aka, why the Unabomber killed people Many people these days are surprised to find out that the Unabomber Manifesto contains intelligent and coherent ideas. They merely think of Ted Kaczynski as a mentally-ill murderer. If he's so intelligent, why did he kill people? In the manifesto itself, Kaczynski explains that he felt this was the only way to get his message out. He reasons that if he had merely submitted his writings to a publisher, they would have been rejected. If they had been published, they wouldn't have attracted readers, because everyone is too distracted by entertainment. So, he says, “In order to get our message before the public with some chance of making a lasting impression, we've had to kill people.” Our obsession with violence caused violence As explained in my Trust Me, I'm Lying summary, humans have a negativity bias, and so media has a negativity bias. Ironically, this is a case where our paranoia about negative events apparently caused negative events. Newspapers and news shows covered Kaczynski's terror campaign for more than fifteen years, until he sent his manuscript, typed on a typewriter, to several newspapers, essentially saying: Publish this, and I'll stop killing people. What Kaczynski did to get coverage makes the tactics Ryan Holiday confessed to look like actions of a saint. His bombings were “pseudo-events” with very real consequences. Assuming this was truly Kaczynski's strategy – and not a backwards-rationalization he came up with after doing what he simply wanted to do – was it an effective strategy? His reputation precedes him, such that people resist taking his manifesto seriously, given what he did. While he got his words published, even nearly thirty years after his last bombing, it's hard to see his words through the dark cloud of his crimes. The manifesto helped catch the Unabomber Publishing the manifesto was an effective strategy for law enforcement in catching Kaczynski. Attorney General Janet Reno gave the okay for the Post and Times to publish the manifesto. This put it in front of enough people the FBI was finally able to identify the anonymous killer. Kaczynski's brother's wife recognized him from what he said in the manifesto. Was this the explosion before the implosion? Reading Kaczynski, I can't help but wonder, If he could have held off a little longer or been born in a different time, might he might have been able to tolerate society? Kaczynski's terror campaign spanned a peak in what Marshall McLuhan calls “mechanical technology.” As his campaign was ending, in 1995, the internet was proliferating – an “electric technology.” This was a world where having a job meant commuting to an office, following a dress code, and working within a hierarchical organization. Once you were home, your only contact with others besides your family or people you called on the phone was media fed to you through your television or radio, or through objects that had to be transported, such as paper books, magazines, records, or VHS tapes. The internet has de-mechanized our world But the internet has further de-mechanized our world. More creators, such as myself, work with near-complete autonomy, outside of traditional hierarchies. People connect with one another around interests. We communicate without borders. As Marshall McLuhan described in Understanding Media (which I summarized on episode 248), mechanical technology “explodes” our world – an unfortunate but apt metaphor in this context. Mechanical technology compromises our individuality to turn us into cogs that fit together, while electric technology “implodes,” allowing our individuality to once again blossom. In 1998, the Washington Post reported that Kaczynski nearly confessed to a psychologist, in the late 60s, that he fantasized about being a woman. He didn't confess, and later cited that as the moment he decided to become violent. Maybe if his gender dysphoria had been more acceptable, his path may have been different? Today's society may not be the small-scale society Kaczynski envisioned, and this electric implosion certainly has its problems, especially as it conflicts with the structures in place from the mechanical world. But, maybe it would be just a little less pressure, so as to prevent trying to blow up the place. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/industrial-society-and-its-future-summary/

There are some invisible structures in language, and using them can be the difference between your message being forgotten or living through the ages. These are The Elements of Eloquence, which is the title of Mark Forsyth's book. I first picked this up a couple years ago, and have read it several times since then. I think it's one of the best writing books, and has dramatically improved my writing. Here is my summary of The Elements of Eloquence: Secrets of the Perfect Turn of Phrase. How powerful could this stuff be? Can hidden patterns in language really be the difference between being remembered and forgotten? The technical term for the study of these patterns is “rhetoric,” and yes, it can make a big difference. Misremembered phrases While it's hard to find data on what has been forgotten – see 99.9% of everything ever said or written – there are examples of things that have been misremembered. You've heard the expression, “blood, sweat, and tears.” That comes from a Winston Churchill speech. He actually said he had “nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat.” Remember when, in The Wizard of Oz, the Wicked Witch of the West said, “Fly, my pretties, fly!”? Well, it never happened. She actually merely exclaimed “Fly!” four times in a row. The line remembered as “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”, was actually "Heav'n has no rage, like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury, like a woman scorned." I'll get into some theories about why these phrases were misremembered in a bit. Non-sensical expressions You can also see evidence of the power of rhetoric in expressions that have spread through culture. Sometimes they don't make literal sense, but have appealing patterns. It “takes two to tango,” but why not “it takes two to waltz”? People go “whole hog,” but why not “whole pig”? Why “cool as a cucumber”? Why “dead as a doornail”? Alliteration You may have noticed these phrases all have alliteration, which is the simplest of rhetorical forms. You're probably already familiar with it. All you have to do to use alliteration is start a couple words in a phrase with the same letter. I've noticed some evidence of the power of alliteration looking at expressions across English and Spanish. For example, if you directly translated “the tables have turned,” which is said often, nobody would know what you were talking about. But they would understand if you directly translated “the things have changed,” which nobody says. In Spanish, that's “las cosas han cambiado.” See? Alliteration. Tricolon So, why was Winston Churchill's quote misremembered as “blood, sweat, and tears.” Forsyth thinks it was probably because the tricolon is more appealing than the tetracolon. A tricolon is when three things are listed, a tetracolon, four. Famous tricolons include, “Eat, drink, and be merry,” and “It's a bird! It's a plane! It's superman.” Barack Obama's short victory speech in 2008 had twenty-one tricolons. Forsyth points out that tricolons seem to be more memorable if the first two things are short and closely-related, and the final thing is longer and a little more abstract. Like, “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” Isocolon Tricolon is three things, tetracolon is four, so is isocolon just one? In a way. An isocolon is not one thing, but one structure, repeated two times. For example, “Roses are red. Violets are blue.” Epizeuxis When you do repeat one thing, that's called epizeuxis. So, when the Wicked Witch of the West said, “Fly! Fly! Fly! Fly!,” that was epizeuxis, but it didn't turn out to be memorable. Diacope People think the Wicked Witch of the West said “Fly, my pretties, fly!” That structure is called a diacope, which is essentially a verbal sandwich. It's one word or phrase, then another word or phrase, then that same word or phrase once again. So “Burn, baby burn,” from the song “Disco Inferno” was diacope, and so was one of the most famous lines in film, “Bond. James Bond.” Why do people think the Wicked Witch of the West said, “Fly, my pretties, fly!”? Probably not only because diacope is a more memorable form than epizeuxis, but also because there's other diacope in the film, such as “Run, Toto. Run!” Zeugma So, why did the phrase “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” live on? I notice there's some alliteration in the phrase (“Hell hath...”), but Forsyth doesn't attribute any rhetorical structures to the phrase. However – besides the sweeping generalization about women that can't help but tickle the tribal human mind – the actual, original phrase came in the form of zeugma. Zeugma is using one verb to apply action to multiple clauses. So if you write “Tom likes whisky, Dick vodka, Harry crack cocaine,” you're using the verb “likes” one time for all three clauses, instead of repeating it. So the original phrase was from a seventeenth-century play called The Mourning Bride, and, once again, went “Heav'n has no rage, like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury, like a woman scorned.” The having is attributed to both heaven and hell, which makes it a zeugma. Ironically, Forsyth points out, there's a few phrases using zeugma that aren't remembered as such. So zeugma is memorable, but it's not. My personal theory is zeugmas take more attention to process. They make you stop and read it again. That extra attention helps us remember, but our memories are simplistic. This is something I get to see firsthand when people tell me they've read one of my books. You'd be amazed the different variations the human mind puts on simple titles such as The Heart to Start or Mind Management, Not Time Management. Chiasmus We've established that alliteration is pretty powerful for creating memorable phrases, and we've talked about why some short phrases are misremembered. But what about longer pieces of prose? The most powerful rhetorical form for a full sentence has to be the chiasmus. The word chiasmus comes from the Greek letter, “chi,” which is shaped like an X. So, chiasmus is when language crosses over. For example, when the three musketeers said, “One for all, and all for one,” that was chiasmus. The structure is ABBA, which happens to also be the name of a band that didn't do too poorly. Politicians use chiasmus a lot. Hillary Clinton said, in her bid for president, “The true test is not the speeches a president delivers, it's whether the president delivers on the speeches.” Forsyth points out that JFK's inauguration speech was “chiasmus crazy.” Having watched it on YouTube, I have to agree, there's enough chiasmus to make you dizzy. But at least one of those phrases lived on: “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.” One chiasmus I've noticed – on a more granular level – is in the title of The Four Hour Work Week. It's a chiasmus of assonance – assonance being the repetition of vowel sounds. It goes, E-O-O-O-E: The Four Hour Work Week. Mix that in with a little alliteration (“Work Week”), and a promise you can't ignore (working four hours a week), and you've got a book title with a chance to be a hit. Anadiplosis, Epistrophe, Anaphora A few more rhetorical forms that have to do with the order of words within clauses: anadiplosis, epistrophe, and anaphora. Anadiplosis is repeating the last word or phrase of a clause as the first word or phrase of the next. Yoda used anadiplosis when he said, “Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.” Malcolm X used anadiplosis of phrases when he said, “Once you change your philosophy, you change your thought pattern. Once you change your thought pattern, you change your attitude.” That's also anaphora, which is starting each sentence or clause with the same words. Anaphora was also used in the Bible: “A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted,” which just sounds wrong if you're more used to the adaptation of this in the song, “Turn! Turn! Turn!”, by The Byrds. Now, if you end each clause, sentence, or paragraph with the same word or phrase, that's something different. That's called epistrophe. Dean Martin used epistrophe, singing, “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, That's amore. When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine, That's amore.” Honorable mention There's of course much more to The Elements of Eloquence. The terms for these rhetorical forms are intimidating and hard to remember, but Mark Forsyth weaves together his descriptions with incredible, well, eloquence. Some other forms that deserve honorable mention: Syllepsis: using a word one time, but in two different ways. “Make love not war,” is a subtle syllepsis. Polyptoton: using a word twice, as both a noun and an adjective. “Please please me” was a polyptoton. Hendiadys: using an adjective as a noun, such as if you were to say, “I'm going to the noise and the city.” Merism: referring to the parts, rather than the whole, such as when you say, “ladies and gentlemen.” Metonymy: using a thing or place to represent something that thing or place is connected to, such as if you were to say, “Downing street was left red-faced last night at news that the White House was planning to attack the British Crown with the support of Wall Street.” There's your Elements of Eloquence summary There's my summary of The Elements of Eloquence. There's a lot more in the book about bringing eloquence to longer passages of text, such as through rhythmical structures like iambic pentameter. Will using these structures automatically make your writing great? No, in fact if you practice these structures, your writing will probably be a little strange at first. But you're probably already using some of these concepts, and with some knowledge and practice, you can use them more adeptly. The Elements of Eloquence is a fantastic writing book. I read it over and over. I highly recommend it. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/elements-of-eloquence-summary/

In Trust Me, I'm Lying, Ryan Holiday reveals the media manipulation tactics he used as Marketing Director of American Apparel, and for his PR clients. Meanwhile, he exposes the inner workings of a modern media machine in which incentives make it impossible for the version of reality depicted in the media to come close to resembling the truth. I think it's Holiday's best book, and one of the best media studies books. So, here, in my own words, is my Trust Me, I'm Lying summary. Yes, this book is about lying Before Ryan Holiday became known as an author of modern stoicism books, he dropped out of college at nineteen to apprentice under 48 Laws of Power author, Robert Green. He later was the marketing director for American Apparel, and now has a PR agency, Brass Check, where he advises corporate clients and authors. As the title of the book suggests, the tactics Holiday confesses to might make your skin crawl. They involve deliberate provocation, bribery, impersonation, and – since it's called Trust Me, I'm Lying – making stuff up. But everyone should read it This may turn people off to the book, but if you're an author, marketer, entrepreneur, musician, filmmaker, or comedian, you're in the business of trying to get your message into the world. So, ignore this book at your own peril. The people with whom you compete for attention are using these tactics. Understanding these tactics is a good way to understand the mechanics of media. You can use this knowledge to get your message out in less nefarious ways (more on that later). And, if you're someone who thinks it's your duty to read the news, to “stay informed,” you owe it to yourself to read this book. But be prepared to have that belief challenged, and your conception of reality altered. Media is a “racket” Holiday describes the modern media system as a “racket,” the word which Major General Smedley D. Butler once used to describe war. He defined it as something “where only a small group of insiders know what's really going on and they operate for the benefit of a few and at the expense of basically everyone else.” Journalists are poor, busy, and desperate for a story The main insider in the modern media system is the journalist, more generally, a “blogger,” who might be someone writing articles for a small blog, or even a major media outlet such as the Huffington Post. Holiday uses “blogger” and “journalist,” interchangeably, and I will, too. Journalists are poor To help you understand the motivations of many of these journalists, Holiday points out this: They might have gone to an expensive grad school, and now live in a big, expensive city, such as NYC, San Francisco, or Washington D.C. They've been close enough to taste a $200,000-a-year journalism job. But now they're churning out articles at a breakneck pace, without even getting health insurance. Meanwhile, the people they cover are rich and successful, and may include talentless reality TV stars. New York magazine called the result “the rage of the creative underclass.” Journalists are busy These bloggers have to write a face-melting amount of content. When journalist Bekah Grant left VentureBeat, she wrote a post saying she averaged five posts a day – more than 1,700 articles in twenty months. Henry Blodget, founder of Business Insider, said his bloggers need to generate three times their salary, benefits, and overhead costs to be worth hiring. So, an employee making sixty-thousand dollars a year needs to produce 1.8 million page views a month, every month. (1.8 million page views is a lot. At my current traffic, it takes me about a decade to generate that much on my blog, and I make more than sixty-thousand dollars a year.) Journalists are desperate for a story Most sites that journalists write for make their money from ads, and the way to make money from ads is to generate page views. As such, many journalists are paid by the page view. I've personally heard this from a friend who worked for a newspaper with a good reputation, covering news for a major city. So, journalists are desperate for a story that will generate page views. So, if you give them a juicy story that will generate page views, they will generally publish it. They're too busy to fact check it, and since they're compensated by the page view, they aren't motivated to care whether or not it's true. Readers want to be entertained, and don't care what's true So you've got poor, busy, and desperate journalists paid by the page view, and the people they're writing for want to be entertained. Negativity attracts attention In 2010, Jonah Berger analyzed 7,000 articles from the New York Times' most-emailed list. He found that the best predictor of virality was: how much anger does the article evoke? Increasing the anger rating of an article had two-and-a-half times the impact of increasing its positivity rating. The human mind is irresistibly attracted to negativity. When subjects of a study were shown footage of war, airplane crashes, and natural disasters, they paid more attention and remembered more than non-negative footage. Corrections don't work Negativity attracts page views, so journalists want juicy stories, and don't care if they're true – and neither do readers, it seems. One study found that when people were shown a fake article with a correction at the bottom, they were more likely to believe it than those who saw an article without a correction. (Note from me: this finding hasn't been consistent across other studies. (Is that a correction you believe?) In any case, people's beliefs are still resistant to contrary facts.) Despite this, online news outlets are financially motivated to publish stories, whether they're true or not. A Gawker reporter once said, “Gawker believes that publicly airing rumors out is usually the quickest way to get to the truth,” going on to say, “Let's acknowledge that we can't vouch for the veracity or truth of the rumors we'll be sharing here.” Journalists are motivated to publish false stories, and, as Holiday points out, “While the internet allows content to be written iteratively, the audience does not read or consume it iteratively.” In other words, they see the story, not the correction. Media manipulation strategy: Trading up the chain Holiday shares nine media manipulation tactics in the book, but they all essentially serve the strategy that Holiday calls, “trading up the chain.” And trading up the chain is something you can do, even without lying. The chain Here's how it works: Get coverage on smaller outlets. Those stories then get covered on mid-level outlets. Finally, major outlets pick up stories from the mid-level outlets. Smaller outlets can be individual blogs, social media, or local websites that cover a neighborhood or scene. Mid-level outlets are blogs of newspapers or local television stations. They can also be “sister sites” of bigger outlets, so they might be affiliated with Newsweek, or CBS. Major outlets are the big ones, like the New York Times, CNN, or The Today Show. It's easy to get coverage on the small outlets It's easy to get coverage on smaller outlets, Holiday says. If there's a bigger outlet on which you want coverage, review stories for patterns. What are the stories about? Is there a smaller outlet where stories consistently show up before stories on the bigger outlet? The smaller the outlet, the less they fact-check Holiday says the smaller an outlet is, the less they fact check. This is where the lying comes in. Holiday confesses to creating fake email accounts to send tips to bloggers, leaking fake internal memos, and having his assistant pose as him over email and even over the phone. You don't even have to start with the small outlets. Holiday says he successfully “conned” reporters from Reuter's, MSNBC, CBS, ABC, The Today Show, and the New York Times. Using HARO, or “Help a Reporter Out” – which is an email list reporters use to find story sources – he found journalists who were looking for experts on various subjects. Holiday isn't an expert on, say, vinyl record collecting, but these reporters were presumably on deadlines, and so not inclined to fact check. Holiday says he did it as a stunt to prove how ridiculous he thinks HARO is, and points out that even after he publicly embarrassed these outlets, they continue to use the service. Subprime truth One of my favorite observations from the book is that the fuzziness of truth in the media is like the subprime mortgage crisis. During the subprime mortgage crisis, banks sold loans to other banks, who sold those to other banks. These loans were rated by ratings agencies that were overwhelmed, and driven by conflicts of interest. One example of false information in the media Holiday seized upon was when a journalist misinterpreted the Wikipedia page of Holiday's client, Tucker Max. Holiday had written Max's page to show that his book had been on the New York Times best-seller list for some period of time in each of three consecutive years. The journalist apparently read that, then wrote a story saying Max's book had been on the best-seller list for three years. That was wrong, but Holiday ran with it, updating the Wikipedia page to say Max's book had, indeed, been on the list for three years, citing the incorrect article as proof. (The Wikipedia page has since been corrected.) Like the subprime mortgage crisis, in the news media, overwhelmed and conflicted reporters write stories, which are then picked up by other overwhelmed and conflicted reporters. In Balaji Srinivasan's second appearance on the Tim Ferriss show, which I summarized on episode 274, he describes how a different kind of chain could ensure verifiable truth gets traded up the chain – in this case, a blockchain. Pseudo-events By getting a story into one outlet, then “trading up the chain” to get it covered in another, you're creating a “pseudo-event.” If you remember my summary of The Image on episode 257, author Daniel J. Boorstin describes pseudo-events as fake events that are deliberately placed in the news, so that they become real. Holiday created a lot of pseudo-events for Max when his movie based upon his book, I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell, was debuting. He bought ads in newspapers around the country, then sent anonymous complaints to the newspapers, leaking those complaints to blogs, to get coverage. He notified college LGBT and women's rights groups of screenings, so they would protest at theaters and the nightly news would cover it. He bought a billboard, defaced it, and reported it to journalists to get news coverage. It seems almost certain that the Russian Internet Research Agency read Holiday's book. They spent many years – and probably still are – hacking public opinion in the U.S. and in other countries, creating Facebook pages for various causes, “astroturfing” those pages with activity from fake profiles, then using that influence make real-life events happen. For example, in 2016 they organized opposing protests – one through the Facebook group, “Heart of Texas,” the other for “United Muslims of America” – at the same time, on the same day, across the street from each other. Trading sensationalism up the chain for free advertising Holiday says his “leveraged advertising strategy” of running sensational ads for American Apparel just to get news coverage was responsible for 50% growth in online sales in three years with “a miniscule ad budget.” He says he deliberately designed ads that would inspire outrage: dressing up kids like adults, putting clothes on dogs, or writing ad copy that didn't make sense. When he couldn't use some promotional Halloween costume photos, because of copyright concerns, he had one of his employees leak them to Gawker and Jezebel, where they were covered in an article that got ninety-thousand views. He ran ads on small websites, featuring porn actress Sasha Grey, completely nude. The ads were covered by Nerve, Buzzfeed, Fast Company, Jezebel, and more. All this coverage for just $1,200 in ads (though it's not clear how much he paid Grey). He says, “my strategy has always been: If I want to be written about, I do things they have to write about.” This is how, according to Holiday, Donald Trump got $4.6 billion of free publicity during his presidential campaign. Pseudo-events for reputational damage control Because of the way the media works, Holiday says if a client of his is in trouble, the best strategy is to create what's essentially a pseudo-event. A major newspaper wrote a hit piece on a client of Holiday's. The journalist who wrote the hit piece was also running a hate blog about the client's company on the side. The client complained to the journalist's editor, but they didn't seem to care. So, Holiday advised his client to write an internal memo to his company, then forward that memo to a competing outlet, which published an article with the memo. The memo was apparently quite damning, because the original newspaper had no choice but to respond. Because bloggers aren't incentivized to care about the truth, and readers are attracted to drama, Holiday says there's no point in trying to correct something that's been said about you in the media. If you want to try, he says, “be prepared to have to be an obsequious douche. You've got to flatter bloggers into thinking that somehow the mistake wasn't their fault.” Ways of using these tactics that are less...gross I personally can't judge Holiday for using these tactics. The medium is the message; as one of Holiday's chapters proclaims, “everyone else is doing it”; and there's no denying that Holiday is good at getting coverage for himself and his clients. But, I'm probably not the only one uncomfortable with impersonating others and lying to get coverage. You can still learn a lot from Trust Me, I'm Lying. Trade up the chain Trading up the chain is a completely legitimate tactic. If you want coverage somewhere, pay attention to where they get their story ideas, and what stories they like to cover. This applies to influencers, too. I no longer interview people on this podcast, but I get so many pitches that are totally irrelevant. You have a better chance of, say, getting interviewed on a podcast, if you tailor your pitch to the target show. And if you get coverage from a micro-influencer that influences a bigger influencer, you might move up the chain. Be remarkable While anger gets a lot of attention, you don't have to be negative in your marketing. You can instead be remarkable – what Seth Godin calls a Purple Cow. I love the ridiculous book titles of author Chuck Tingle. Are you ready for this? How could you not laugh when you hear the title, Domald Tromp Pounded in the Butt By the Handsome Russian T-Rex Who Also Peed On His Butt And Then Blackmailed Him With the Videos Of His Butt Getting Peed On. Even if you don't buy one of his books, his titles are attention-grabbing and spread. Bread Face Blog makes a living smashing bread with her face. It's so absurd, it has to attract attention. The Instagram algorithm sees that attention, and gets her videos in front of more people. The New York Times had to write about her – how could they not? Create a message for the medium If the medium is the message, create a message for the medium. Whatever you're creating, think about how it spreads through media, whether that's social media, traditional media, or word-of-mouth. Lately, I've been seeing how people on Instagram share highlights of quotes in books. It makes sense to have larger pull quotes in my next book, so they have something pretty to take a picture of. Have you been to a restaurant or event where there's a decorated nook specifically for taking photos and sharing them on social media? Not an accident. While researching Times Square ad space for my own publicity stunt I'm working on, I saw one fact sheet point out that Times Square was “the third-most Instagrammed location in the world.” Point being if you put up an ad there, lots of people bragging to their friends about their trips to New York will spread your ad for you. When I write a title of a book, I ask myself if it passes the “cocktail party test.” How would it feel to tell someone at a cocktail party you're reading a book by this title? Proud and strong? Good. Embarrassed or weak? Bad. Mind Management, Not Time Management is what I call a “turnkey title.” The title alone makes a statement you can use, without reading the book. It helps make it memorable, so it spreads. Create pseudo-events Today's media is increasingly participatory. People are not just consumers of media, but also makers of media. By creating pseudo-events, you can get more out of the media you create. I recently saw a cool video on TikTok, showing the process of making a video that showed the process of making a pizza. I know, meta, right? It's a pseudo-event. The video of them making pizza was made for the media. The video of them making the video making pizza made me think they're really good cinematographers. Of course, they teased the original video at the end of the cinematography video, and I had to go watch it. Many readers of the books I write also write books. So, my KDP income reports are essentially pseudo-events. One reason they exist is, I have a business writing books for people who write books, and they show that I know how to run a business writing books. They attract the attention of people who will like my books. Be careful Trust Me, I'm Lying is a must-read for anyone doing anything with media. But be careful what you do with these tactics. I know I've heard Tucker Max lament the reputation he's gained as a result of the tactics in the book. I've also heard Max say the same for Holiday – that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to write a book that says he's a liar right in the title. As Holiday warns, “if you chase the kind of attention I chased, and use the tactics I've used, there will be blowback.” There's your Trust Me, I'm Lying book summary Not all of the book is tactics. Much of it is more media commentary, with some media history sprinkled in, and some airing of grievances Holiday has with various journalists and media outlets. Despite the damage Holiday may have done to his reputation by writing Trust Me, I'm Lying, I really appreciate the book, and it took guts to confess to the things he did in the book. It's on my list of best media books. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »       Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/trust-me-im-lying-summary/

In 2018, Matthew Walker was on a media blitz, promoting his book, Why We Sleep. I was one of the many people who picked up the book. It slowly ruined my sleep. But recently, I fixed it. No, this is not a takedown Before I go further, this is not a “takedown” of Why We Sleep, like the one that's been floating around. I've read that takedown, and I didn't find it convincing. I trust that Why We Sleep is mostly full of accurate information. I say “mostly,” because I understand Walker has been on a mission to elevate the importance of sleep. Sometimes you have to say something like “the shorter you sleep the shorter your life span,” for a sleep-deprived public to get the point, when, technically, research shows people who sleep longer than the recommended 7–9 hours live shorter lives. It's called rhetoric. When FDR said “we have nothing to fear but fear itself,” thankfully there weren't blogs to write pedantic takedowns of his logic. My complaints about Why We Sleep don't involve ill intentions. I'm sure Walker wants people to get more sleep. But I don't think the book has the effect he expected. Why Why We Sleep will scare the sleep out of you In Why We Sleep, Matthew Walker, PhD says if you don't sleep enough, you are at risk of the following: Obesity Cancer Dementia Alzheimer's Heart disease Depression Anxiety Diabetes Car crashes Lower income Low sperm count Deformed sperm Female infertility Not being able to jump as high Longer workout recovery Vulnerability to colds and flus (today, that also means COVID) Low testosterone Smaller testicles So, yeah, Walker makes not getting enough sleep sound extremely scary. If that's not enough to keep you awake at night, Walker also points out there's also a rare sleep disorder that develops in mid-life, where a person cannot sleep, and eventually dies. Again, I get that society is full of a lot of ignorant or toxic beliefs about sleep, such as “I'll sleep when I'm dead”. I may be in the minority in that I had the luxury of being able to take Walker's recommendation of 7–9 hours sleep to an extreme that actually harmed my ability to get enough sleep. I was doing everything right After reading Why We Sleep, I, like many people, decided I was going to take sleep more seriously. But, as a creative with an interest in the neuroscience of creativity, I had already been taking sleep pretty seriously. I already slept with earplugs and a mask. I already avoided screens before bedtime, and had for years worn blue-light-blocking goggles before bed. I already didn't read or watch TV in bed, and didn't allow electronics in my bedroom. I already didn't consume caffeine and rarely drank alcohol. I already lived a low-stress lifestyle with plenty of exercise and friends. I didn't and don't have kids that wake me up in the middle of the night. I already had a bedtime, and a nighttime routine, like I talked about on episode 259. I tried to do it right-er I was doing everything right. Where I went wrong was trying to follow Walker's recommendation of 7–9 hours of sleep per night. The way I went about that: Stay in bed until I got eight hours of sleep. At first, it wasn't a big deal. I would occasionally wake up much earlier than I had intended. But I brought to mind a graph from the book, which showed that sleep cycles come in ninety-minute increments. Now, this wasn't a recommendation from Dr. Walker, and was my big mistake: I figured that since sleep cycles came in ninety-minute increments, if I happened to wake up too early, all I had to do was stay in bed until I could fall asleep again – which could take as long as ninety minutes. Yes, I understand I'm incredibly privileged to have the luxury of being able to stay in bed an extra ninety minutes just to fall asleep again. But, as an author, my ability to be productive is more a matter of mind management than it is of time management. It doesn't matter, to some extent, how long it takes me to get enough sleep, but I need that sleep to get in the right state of mind to do my work. At first, this technique worked. When I woke up too early to get eight hours of sleep, I stayed in bed until I fell asleep again, and got my eight hours. Eventually, I settled on a rule: Most people use an alarm clock so they can get out of bed early. I, instead, set a time until which I had to stay in bed. For me, that was 8 a.m. If I slept past 8 a.m., that was fine, but if I woke up before 8 a.m., I stayed in bed until then. So, I was going to bed around 11 p.m., and staying in bed for nine, sometimes ten hours. If I was sleepy, I'd go to bed earlier, but I'd still stay in bed until 8 a.m. This went fine, until early-morning insomnia kicked in. It's 3 a.m. I must be lonely (and awake) There are many kinds of insomnia, but they mostly consist of either sleep-onset insomnia or early-morning insomnia. I didn't and still don't have much trouble falling asleep (thanks to my nighttime routine). My problem was, waking up way too early. Not 5 a.m., but 3 a.m., and I was awake. My thoughts were racing, my heart was pounding, and I could not get back to sleep. I shared this problem with a number of friends. It turns out a lot of people have this problem. But multiple friends told me, “Matthew Walker's book ruined my sleep.” Then, they all happened to recommend the same book to me, which had fixed their sleep. Enter Say Goodnight to Insomnia Why We Sleep takes the approach of telling you sleep is so important, if you don't do it you'll die. The book, Say Goodnight to Insomnia takes the opposite perspective. It essentially tells you, not to worry about sleep. Here's some things it actually tells you: You can function fine without enough sleep. As long as you're, in the long run, getting at least 5.5 hours of sleep a night, you're fine. If you feel bad after a night of poor sleep, you're probably blaming the effects on poor sleep, when they might be caused by something else – such as stress, nutrition, or normal variations. Insomniacs generally get only a couple hours less sleep than normal people, and don't perform any less well. Your body compensates for a poor night of sleep by sleeping better the following night. People often mistake light, Stage 2 sleep, as wakefulness. So even when you think you're not sleeping, you might be! The book was published in 2009, so I don't know how true all of this still is, but to some extent, it doesn't matter. That's because Say Goodnight to Insomnia is essentially a self-administered Cognitive Behavioral Therapy program for insomnia, developed at Harvard Medical School. It's all about restructuring your thoughts about sleep, so you can settle into a routine where you're getting as much sleep as you need, not causing undue stress about all the things that will go wrong if you don't get an arbitrarily-recommended amount of sleep. Hours-sleep recommendations are arbitrary Did I just say Matthew Walker's sleep recommendations are arbitrary? Well, they kind of are. Here's why: For one, there's a difference between self-reported sleep, and actual sleep (in fairness, this is in the takedown I mentioned earlier). People who say they slept six hours tend to have actually slept five. People who say they've slept seven and a half hours, tend to have actually slept seven. Self-reported versus actual sleep duration is all over the board, and the discrepancy varies according to a bunch of factors. We can't study sleep interventions across populations This is hard enough to deal with when trying to figure out how much you've slept, but when you're trying to study the effects of sleep, over long periods of time, across entire populations, it's simply impossible. Researchers have to use self-reports, which are unreliable. And it's not practical to randomly split up the population into two groups and say, “You people, sleep a ton!,” and “You people, don't sleep more than five hours a night. Oh, and both of you, do this for life!” So we can't know how much sleep you need So while studies show people who get little sleep are at a higher risk of Alzheimer's Disease, and we can piece together studies to form an explanation of how a lack of sleep might cause Alzheimer's, we can't really know if it's being caused by a voluntary lack of sleep, or if the same thing that causes Alzheimer's also causes a lack of sleep. Even if we did know, for sure, how much sleep exactly do you need in order to prevent Alzheimer's? Epidemiological studies covering large populations are self-reported, so we don't know how much sleep these subjects are actually getting. Yes, that is changing as more people are using personal sleep-tracking devices. But we still can't force random sections of the population to get more or less sleep, and people who wear these devices are a self-selected group of people. I don't have one, and don't want one. Turn negative into positive sleep thoughts When you worry about not getting enough sleep, you're having what Say Goodnight to Insomnia author, Gregg D. Jacobs, PhD, calls “Negative Sleep Thoughts,” or NSTs for short. What do you tell yourself when you can't sleep? Things like, “I won't be able to function tomorrow,” “I feel terrible because I didn't sleep well last night,” and “Everyone else has an easy time sleeping.” If you've read Matthew Walker's book, you can add to that, “If I don't get enough sleep, I'll get diabetes, cancer, and Alzheimer's, and won't be able to jump as high.” Say Goodnight to Insomnia program summary Here's the gist of how the Say Goodnight to Insomnia program works. Each chapter ends with a sleep journal. For the first week, you record your baseline patterns: What time did you go to bed, and to sleep? How many times did you wake up, and for how long? How do you rate the quality of your sleep? Each week of the program, Jacobs introduces a new way to assess your sleep, and turn poor sleep habits into better sleep habits. In week one, he introduces you to “cognitive restructuring.” Every time you have a Negative Sleep Thought, you turn it around into a Positive Sleep Thought. So if you think, “I'm sleeping terribly tonight,” you remind yourself that you're probably sleeping more than you think, and that you'll sleep better tomorrow if you don't sleep well today. In week two, he introduces you to the concept of “sleep efficiency,” or the percentage of time that you're in bed, during which you're actually sleeping. Sleep restriction therapy This is also when Jacobs introduces you to “sleep restriction,” which is the main component of the treatment program, and has been found to be incredibly effective for insomnia. Jacobs instructs you to take your baseline average amount of sleep, and add one hour to it. That's how long you're allowed to be in bed. For me, I was averaging about six hours of sleep, so, adding an hour to that, I could stay in bed for seven hours. My desired wake-up time was 7 a.m., so that meant I had to stay out of bed until midnight. Midnight has historically been my latest target bedtime, but I was only sleeping six hours a night, so staying up until midnight was crazy hard. It felt impossible. Some nights, I could hardly keep my eyes open at 10:30 p.m. I was reading the same sentence over and over, as I nearly lost my ability to hold my Kindle. I had to get up and pace around, or practice putting, on my hallway rug. Don't condition yourself to be awake in bed As you can imagine, by the time I was allowed to go to bed, I didn't have much trouble falling asleep. I still sometimes woke up in the middle of the night, and so I followed Dr. Jacobs' advice: If you're wide awake, don't toss and turn and frustratingly struggle to sleep. Ideally, you should get out of your bed, and read until you feel tired again. But if you're tired enough that getting out of bed seems impossible, Dr. Jacobs says it's okay to sit up in bed while you read, so long as you don't do so for longer than an hour. So, if I were to boil down the Say Goodnight to Insomnia program into three principles, they would be the following: Restructure your thoughts around sleep. So, don't tell yourself horror stories about not being able to sleep. Trust that, with healthy sleep hygiene, your body is capable of letting you know when it needs sleep. Keep your sleep efficiency up. Dr. Jacobs recommends that you restrict sleep until you have 85% sleep efficiency for at least two weeks. In other words, 85% of the time you're in bed, you're asleep. Only after two weeks at that level can you add fifteen minutes to your time in bed. Condition yourself to sleep while in bed. My mistake was that by spending a lot of time in bed, in an effort to get enough sleep, I was spending a lot of time in bed when I was not sleeping. This is extra-harmful if that time you spend not sleeping is spent worrying about how you're not sleeping enough. Your bed is for only two things, and most of what you should do in bed is sleep. After following Dr. Jacobs' program for a few weeks, and diligently recording my sleep in the sleep journal at the end of each chapter – which I copied onto a paper with my typewriter – I was convinced it had done nothing for me. My results with Say Goodnight to Insomnia But, in fact, upon reviewing my journal, I realized it was working. After a few weeks, the Say Goodnight to Insomnia program had me waking up in the middle of the night less often, and for shorter periods, and my self-rated sleep quality had increased. By the end of the six week program, my sleep had improved on about every dimension, including sleep quality, sleep efficiency, and average amount of sleep. I will say that naps were a saving grace during this program. During the first couple weeks of sleep restriction, there were some nights where I got less than five hours of sleep. Like the book said, I was still able to function, but mercifully, Dr. Jacobs said it was okay to nap no longer than forty-five minutes, no later than 4 p.m. Say Goodnight to the damage done by Why We Sleep The intention of Matthew Walker's book, Why We Sleep is correct – sleep is vitally important. But, how much sleep do you need? Unless you have a sleep disorder – which you should absolutely check for with your doctor – if you're keeping good sleep hygiene, such as a nighttime routine, and are making sure you sleep efficiently and think positively about your relationship with sleep, as recommended by Dr. Jacobs – what more can you do? About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/why-we-sleep-say-goodnight-to-insomnia-summary/

One thing I hear from a lot from readers of The Heart to Start, is that many people have no problem starting new projects. They instead struggle with finishing them. I can relate. Like many creative people, I once struggled to finish projects. I always had new ideas, I left books half-read, projects half-finished. I had done lots of creative work, and had little to show for it. Now I still always have new ideas, and I still leave books half-read and projects half-finished. But now, I have lots of finished projects to show for all the work I've done. What's changed? I've learned to finish what matters, and forget the rest. Embrace your inner Perceiver A turning point in my own creative journey came when I learned to embrace my inner Perceiver. As much flak as the Myers-Briggs Personality Type Indicator gets for being pseudoscience, it's still a useful lens for understanding your own tendencies. The concepts of Introversion and Extroversion have wide scientific support, but also useful I think are the concepts of “Perceiving” and “Judging.” If you watch in awe as one friend after another executes on ideas and achieves success, while you flounder, working on one idea after another, but never truly following through, your friends are probably “Js”, and you might be a “P.” This is the position I was in, until a friend at a party explained this dichotomy to me. Why was this other friend of ours so great at follow-through, while we both struggled to find our paths? This friend was a J. We were Ps. Another way of thinking about being a Perceiver is you're someone who sees Possibilities. You can't move forward with one idea, because you keep having other, better ideas. Meanwhile, your “Judging” friends find an idea, make the judgement to stick with it, and see it through. Shiny objects aren't shameful Perceiving Possibilities is a necessary part of being creative. For DNA to be discovered, the researchers had to entertain the Possibility that they should pursue something other than the original intent of their grant application – which was to study cancer treatments. For Alexander Fleming to discover antibiotics, he had to see Possibilities in experimental petri dishes that were contaminated. If you want a treasure trove of Perceivers, look no further than nearly every person Walter Isaacson has written a biography on. For Leonardo Da Vinci to paint the Mona Lisa, he applied his knowledge of optics to his sfumato technique, which allowed him to model the painting with no hard lines. He applied his knowledge of anatomy to crafting the Mona Lisa's mysterious smirk. He had dissected humans and animals, studying exactly which muscles were recruited to express various emotions. In episode 272, I talked about how Steve Jobs and the engineers and executives at Apple had to consider the Possibility that while a trackwheel served as a useful interface for an iPod, it might not be such for the iPhone. Isaacson himself has said, “People who love all fields of knowledge are the ones who can best spot the patterns across nature.” So if you're someone who beats themself up over Shiny Object Syndrome, consider the Possibility that it's a necessary component of creative thinking. Creative success happens in Extremistan On the rare occasion that someone with shiny object syndrome does finish a project, it might not be successful, and that can make matters worse. Why bother following through with anything, you might think, when you aren't assured of success? But, creative work calls for a different approach to success. As I talked about in episode 253, creative work happens in Extremistan. Nobody knows anything It's impossible to predict which creative projects will be successful. If record companies knew hits, that's all they'd release. If movie studios knew blockbusters, that's all they'd produce. If publishers knew bestsellers, that's all they'd launch. If Venture Capitalists knew unicorns, that's all they'd fund. And they wouldn't be called “Venture” Capitalists – they'd just be Capitalists. As two-time Academy-Award-winning screenwriter William Goldman said, “Nobody knows anything.” The sky is the limit Even when a creative project is released into Extremistan, there is a huge range of potential outcomes. When Art De Vany analyzed the box-office proceeds of various movies, he found that the top 1% of movies accounted for 20% of sales. My latest book, Mind Management, Not Time Management is a success. Book-marketing expert Tucker Max calls a self-published book that sells 2,500 copies in its first year a “home run”. Mind Management, Not Time Management sold 10,000. But, Mark Manson's Subtle Art has sold more than ten million. This podcast episode will get more downloads than about 97% of other podcasts, but it's not unusual for an episode of Joe Rogan's podcast to get 1,000 times the downloads of this one. It's a long night to overnight success When you follow through and put a creative project into the world, you may have mild success, or you may have wild success. But there's no telling how long wild success can take. The Queen's Gambit took thirty-seven years to become a New York Times bestseller. Jane Austen's books went out of print after her death. There's no telling when a box-office bust will become a cult classic, or just a straight-up classic. People forget that The Shawshank Redemption was a box-office bomb, now considered by many to be the best movie of all time. Like I talked about on episode 251, you can't call out Suvivorship Bias so easily in creative work, because you often don't know if a project is truly dead. We're raised in Mediocristan Creative success happens in Extremistan, not Mediocristan, and this is at the heart of why many people feel ashamed of their shiny object syndrome. We're raised in Mediocristan, so we evaluate success and our ability to follow through based upon how things get done in Mediocristan. The whole point of civilization – with its steady paychecks, fixed-rate mortgages, and insurance policies – is to smooth out the shocks of the natural world. Mediocristan is built upon predictability, and to succeed by Mediocristan's standards, you need to yourself be predictable. If you can follow the curriculum, do the reading, and fill out the bubbles on a standardized test with your standardized #2 pencil, you can get a good grade, that adds up to a good GPA, which lets you graduate and get your degree to put the right keywords in your resume so a computer can read it and find you. You can get a job, a steady paycheck, a fixed-rate mortgage, and an insurance policy. But for any of these niceties of Mediocristan to exist, someone has to invent something. Before Henry Ford could double the going rate for a factory worker, introduce the five-dollar day, and have 10,000 people banging on his gates, he had to create those jobs. You are a Maker/Capitalist Even if you wanted to work in a factory in Mediocristan – besides the fact that few humans could handle the monotony of working on Ford's assembly-line – these kinds of jobs are becoming more scarce. More of our drudgery is being handled by automation. This is reducing the barriers to entry for putting ideas into the world. You can build a no-code app with Adalo or Webflow, you can print and ship artwork and memorabilia with Printful, you can – like me – sell thousands of print-on-demand books in dozens of countries around the world, and not touch a single one. It used to require capital and labor to produce a good or service. Now, less labor is needed, and almost no capital. It used to require management to organize all that labor. Now management is the arrangement of automation – but “management” isn't the right word for it, and neither is labor. The word “creator” embodies the trifecta of coming up with ideas, doing the work, and distributing the goods. More and more of us can be creator/capitalists. We require little capital to fund our making, but we have to be adept at using what little capital we have wisely. Balaji Srinivasan would call us “capital allocators.” Finish what matters, and forget the rest If creative success is random, and happens upon a long timeline, how do you stay the course to embrace your shiny object syndrome and still ship projects? Start by building your shipping skills, like I talked about on episode 265. Treat even the smallest projects in your life as opportunities to have a vision, form a plan, and carry out that plan. You can do this by cooking a recipe, planning a party or trip, and build into shipping small creative projects. Learn to navigate uncertainty. Get used to making percentage-confidence predictions about the future, then evaluating those predictions down the road. You can learn with the Avocado Challenge I talked about on episode 245. Remember that for Henry Ford to build the Model T, he had to iterate on Models A through S. Like a construction project that seems to make no progress, until suddenly a twenty-story building appears, you need to let the Foundation Effect happen, like I talked about on episode 266. Remember the Iceberg Principle, like I talked about on episode 263. The same way ninety-percent of an iceberg is underwater, what you present to the world in your masterpiece will be just a small fraction of the knowledge and experimentation you put in. You have to embrace creative waste, like I talked about on episode 264. As a creator/capitalist, you need to use your resources wisely. Use the Barbell Strategy that I talked about on episode 244. Put most of your resources toward “sure bets” that keep you in the game. But set aside time and energy to play wildcards – crazy ideas with little downside, but unlimited potential upside. Creative work is the business of breeding Black Swans. Through this process, you won't finish every project, and you won't always be able to tell which projects matter. But with enough practice, over enough time, you'll become adept at finishing what matters, and forgetting the rest. Image: Characters In Yellow, Paul Klee Mind Management is a Kindle Deal! Amazon has hand-selected Mind Management, Not Time Management for a promotional discount. It's only $2.49 on Amazon.com and Amazon.ca. Offer ends March 31st, so grab it now! About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/finish-what-matters/

What will the future look like? In his most recent November appearance on the Tim Ferriss Show, entrepreneur and investor Balaji Srinivasan presents a cohesive explanation of the current world, and plausible scenarios of how things will play out. I found Balaji's theories so mesmerizing, I listened to the four-and-a-half-hour podcast several times, then read and took notes on the transcript. Listening to this episode was like reading a book, so – like I do with my book summaries – I wanted to improve my own understanding of the content. So, here is a podcast summarizing a podcast, in my own words. Needless to say, the podcast is worth listening to, and since this is just a summary, you should absolutely listen to it – over on The Tim Ferris Show – to get the full context. The decline of the nation state One of the main forces at play in world events, according to Balaji, is the decline of nation states. He presents this idea in reference to a prescient twenty-five year-old book called The Sovereign Individual, which he cites in this podcast appearance and others. Since the nation state is declining, it is becoming increasingly difficult for countries to control their citizens. When it's hard to control citizens, it's hard to collect tax revenue to fund institutions. This loss of control is accelerating with the rise of remote work, catalyzed by the coronavirus pandemic. As more people have been able to work from anywhere, they've become increasingly aware of how local laws and taxes affect their lives. The power of “exit” The control of a nation state over its people is limited to the extent that people have the right to what Balaji summarizes as “exit.” If you're unable to leave a place, either because the government is oppressive, or because you're tied down because, say, you have land to tend and a flock of sheep, the government has more leeway in what policies they can enforce. Citizens as “customers” If people can exit their jurisdictions – whether that's a country, a state, or a city – then citizens stop being “subjects” that jurisdictions can extract resources from, and start being “customers,” that jurisdictions want to appeal to. We've of course seen this for a long time, as cities have given tax breaks or other perks to compete over companies shopping for jurisdictions in which to place their corporate headquarters. But citizens are starting to look more like customers as smaller players have exited en masse. For example, lots of people and companies have been leaving California for Texas, in search of less state control. Balaji points out that not everyone has to exit to influence policies, but the fact that some do is tremendous leverage on any system. Crypto entrepreneurs call New York's bluff An example Balaji cites of this struggle happened when New York state introduced the BitLicense – a series of regulations required for companies to do certain kinds of cryptocurrency transactions. Balaji characterizes New York's posture in introducing these regulations as “We're New York. What are you going to do? We're the center of the world.” At least ten crypto companies then left New York, including Kraken, Bitfinex, and Poloniex. In some cases they had to pack up and move. In other cases they just stopped servicing New York customers. New York apparently overestimated their leverage, and companies left for other jurisdictions, who were more accommodating to their “customers.” Declining returns on state violence Something Balaji doesn't talk about much but that is a major theme in The Sovereign Individual – and is relevant to the decline of state control – is declining returns on violence, at least at the state level. You can think of a nation state as a collection of people who contribute taxes in exchange for protection. Serfs used to pay, to their feudal lords, the returns of farming on their plots of land, in exchange for protection. Businesses in organized-crime-controlled neighborhoods pay a fee to the mob so their businesses won't “burn down.” U.S. taxpayers pay taxes, the U.S. keeps a strong military that defends the interests of those taxpayers, and protects U.S. taxpayers' green-bill privilege by ensuring the U.S. dollar remains the world's reserve currency. A relevant observation that stands out to me: Sapiens author Yuval Noah Harari once essentially said that wars used to be about control over natural resources. You can invade a country and get control over such resources, and maybe even control over labor. But China can't invade Silicon Valley, force all the engineers and entrepreneurs to work, and by doing so extract the resources there. That's a decline in the returns on violence, on the state level at least. Centralized China vs. decentralized world The main conflict Balaji sees playing out in twenty to forty years is between “centralized China” and “decentralized world.” China is a nation-state, and one of the main forces at play is the decline of the nation state, so how does that work? What is centralized China? As Balaji describes it, China is the most centralized government. It has “root” access to everything – much like you have over your computer if you have the root password. We're seeing that in the coronavirus pandemic: If there's a couple cases in a city, China can and will shut down everything, and they have total surveillance over their citizens. This high degree of centralization will be, according to Balaji, an advantage in the short- and medium-term. It's been an advantage in the coronavirus pandemic. I think the implication is that in an interconnected world with so much technological power, being highly-centralized is the only way for a government to retain control over its citizens, and thus extract resources to keep itself running. How do we get to “decentralized world?” If Balaji thinks it will take twenty to forty years for China's centralized model to cease being an advantage, that implies that a “decentralized world” will emerge as an opposing force within that twenty to forty years. So as less-centralized governments lose the ability to stay together and fund themselves from their citizens, that will fragment into smaller jurisdictions – sometimes based upon geography, other times based upon ideology. From that no-doubt messy process would emerge new models for organizing people and resources. These new models would rise to become so much better that they rival the reigning world power in this scenario – China. Sidenote from me on guns, germs, and innovation The idea of fragmented jurisdictions competing and developing “better” models makes me think of the theories presented by Jared Diamond in Guns, Germs, and Steel. Diamond theorizes that Europe came to dominate the West hundreds of years ago because Europe had itself fragmented into many competing nation states. Europe's east-west orientation also meant new methods of agriculture or livestock management easily travelled from one jurisdiction to another. If a new method was developed in Spain, it could be used in France. Those two nation-states would then compete to improve that method, along with other neighboring countries, and any improvements could easily be traded back and forth, thus optimizing a “better” method. (I say “better” in air quotes because obviously European dominance of the West is morally unsavory. Their methods were “better” merely from a game-theory standpoint: If there is one playing field – in this case, the world – the player with Europe's set of characteristics probably gains control over that playing field in most scenarios. Other methods could be considered better, depending upon by what criteria you rate them.) Since agricultural technology was so important to the success of a nation at that stage of global development, the portability of technology depended a lot upon climate – thus Diamond's theory that continents with long east-west axes, and thus similarity in climates amongst jurisdictions – innovated rapidly. But in a world where innovation in digital technologies is so important, technological innovations are more portable, and so an idea can be iterated upon and improved within every jurisdiction in the world. The three-way struggle for power: woke capital, communist capital, crypto capital Balaji presents a theory of three forces that are and will continue to be struggling for power over the coming decades. I think the implication here is many “jurisdictions” will emerge with various levels of these values. As these jurisdictions compete, some will emerge as “winners” that collectively act as a “decentralized world,” which competes with centralized China. Those three forces are: woke capital, communist capital, and crypto capital. The three organizations that represent each of these, respectively are: The New York Times, the Chinese Communist Party, and Bitcoin. A little more about each of these: Woke Capital: As embodied by NYT, says, “you should sympathize.” Communist Capital: As embodied by CCP, says, “you should submit.” Crypto Capital: As embodied by BTC (or Bitcoin maximalists, in its extreme), says, “you should be sovereign.” Both woke capital and crypto capital essentially say “you are powerful…” But woke capital finishes that sentence with “…and you should apologize for that power.” Crypto capital finishes “you are powerful...” by saying “…and you should be self-sufficient.” Communist capital instead of “_you_ are powerful,” says “_we_ are powerful…” but, like woke capital, encourages a posture of submission or bowing down as you make yourself subservient to that power. Crypto capital on the other hand encourages a confident posture with head held high. An optimal “decentralized center” Any of these forces taken to their extreme is bad. Different jurisdictions will embody different mixes of these values, and, Balaji hopes, we'll reach an optimal “decentralized center.” We'll hopefully have a decentralized world, with a good mixture of concern for one's fellow human, self-sufficiency and personal responsibility within the populace, and some degree of control by competent leaders and organizations who are qualified to make decisions for large swaths of people. State-controlled press, or a press-controlled state? The New York Times, and the American press at-large, seem to be the incumbents in America, and maybe it's because Balaji leans toward crypto capital himself – he's the former CTO of Coinbase – that he spends a good portion of the conversation criticizing the press. A resonant quote Balaji says is common: “If China's got a state-controlled press, America's a press-controlled state.” In other words, in China, politicians fire journalists. In the U.S., journalists get politicians fired. Are journalists competent? If journalists have so much influence over politics, Balaji poses the question, Why isn't the U.S. establishment led by more competent people? The media has so much influence over American politics, our remaining leaders are those who are best at using the media to gain power, not those who are actually competent in their domains. By contrast, Balaji says, the Chinese system is led by people who think more like Venture Capitalists or technologists. They can think ahead and plan for various scenarios. He cites China's decision to block outside social media companies starting way back in 2009 as prescient, probably preventing an Arab Spring-like uprising. Since the U.S. establishment do not think like VCs or technologists, they don't actually know how the world works. So everything is a surprise. As Balaji says, “the U.S. establishment [is] always behind the eight ball. Lehman is a surprise. Bear is a surprise. COVID is a surprise. Trump is a surprise. Afghanistan's a surprise. Everything is a surprise.” He presents as examples various article titles by American journalists, such as “Why Facebook Will Never Make a Significant Profit,” “Amazon.bomb,” or “Google's Toughest Search is for a Business Model.” He says, “These journos are not off by 50 percent. You can't just read their article and think you're being sophisticated by discounting it. Their mental model of the world is often off by 10,000 or a hundred thousand X.” Yet news organizations, which are for-profit endeavors, advertise themselves as arbiters of facts. Fox News used the tagline, “fair and balanced.” The Washington Post's masthead says, “Democracy Dies in Darkness,” and The New York Times ran a billboard in Times' Square that just said “Truth.” Russell's conjugation A weapon in the struggle amongst the forces of woke, communist, and crypto capital is Russell's conjugation, also known as emotive conjugation. Russell's conjugation is using different words, with different emotional valence, to describe the same thing. When philosopher Bertrand Russell talked about it on a BBC broadcast in 1948, he used the example, “I have reconsidered the matter, you have changed your mind, he has gone back on his word.” Balaji uses the example, “he doxes, she leaks, but the New York Times investigates,” pointing out that newspapers are essentially for-profit intelligence agencies. An average person can't just dig through somebody's trash and put them under surveillance, but that's what newspapers do. Obviously anyone can use Russell's conjugation, but since the media has so much power to shape our conception of reality it's especially dangerous in their hands. (If the idea of the media shaping our reality is news to you, read my summaries of media theory books such as Understanding Media, The Image, and Amusing Ourselves to Death). An example Balaji cites of Russell's conjugation in action is that the New York Times, in 2012, published an article called “How Punch Protected the Times”, about how dual-class stock helped keep the newspaper in the hands of the Sulzberger family. But in 2019, they criticized Facebook's use of dual-class stock by publishing “You Can't Fire Mark Zuckerberg's Kid's Kids”. (To be fair, they were both opinion columns.) Will the U.S. seize Bitcoin? The main force that will lead the move toward decentralization is Bitcoin. But will Bitcoin keep growing in influence, or will it be made irrelevant? Since China recently cut off mining of Bitcoin within their borders, Balaji says it's unlikely there will be a successful technical attack on Bitcoin. China was the biggest potential threat on that front, and Bitcoin survived. Threats to Bitcoin There's still some possibility of software attacks, such as a “zero day” attack, a very popular client having a vulnerability, a supply chain attack in which a library is included in the code and isn't caught, or quantum decryption being developed before quantum encryption. One potential threat to Bitcoin is the U.S. government seizing Bitcoin, much like F.D.R. did with gold in 1933. With executive order 6102, F.D.R. made it illegal to “hoard” gold coins, bullion, and certificates (which I notice was a nice Russell conjugation: Instead of “hoarding,” he could've called it “saving.”) Everyone had to turn in their gold, in exchange for a low, fixed price, so the Federal Reserve could issue more gold-backed money. Could the government do the same for Bitcoin? History running in reverse Balaji considers this an unlikely scenario, or at least a scenario unlikely to be successful, because “history is running in reverse.” That is, in 1933, the world was moving toward centralization, and today, the world is moving away from centralization. Balaji sees the peak of centralization as 1950, when there was one telephone company (AT&T), two superpowers (U.S. and U.S.S.R.), and three television stations (ABC, CBS, and NBC). Moving toward that, the Western frontier closed, the Spanish flu pandemic spread, there was the rise of the “robber barons” and private banking, the right and left were fighting in the streets, and inflation ran rampant in Weimar, Germany. Moving in reverse, we have the internet frontier opening, the COVID pandemic, the rise of tech billionaires and crypto, the right and left fighting in the streets, and what Balaji describes as “Weimar, America,” with accelerating inflation. Additionally, in 1933, F.D.R. had the world's smartest people helping him in his Brain Trust. Today, the smartest people are no longer working with the government. So, Balaji feels that if the U.S. were to attempt to seize Bitcoin, they wouldn't be able to pull it off, because history is running in reverse. I'll add that it seems that would be a tough thing to justify to the public. Executive order 6102 was at least ostensibly for the purposes of making sure the currency was backed by enough gold. I struggle to imagine a palatable justification for seizing Bitcoin from private citizens. The DeFi Matrix A big idea Balaji talks about and that Tim Ferriss agrees is a big idea is the “DeFi Matrix.” Turning an asset into money is called a “liquidity event,” because money is a liquid asset. But, increasingly, every asset can simply be traded directly for another asset, on the DeFi Matrix. For example, it's extremely easy to exchange any cryptocurrency for any other cryptocurrency. Supposedly, the DeFi Matrix will make it possible to price things we couldn't price before. Balaji uses examples such as a megabyte on your hard drive, a JPEG, or a minute of your time (which I already do on Clarity.fm). He describes this as being like when every newspaper went online and Google News was indexing all of them. Suddenly they were all competing against each other, and local newspapers that were just syndicating AP stories couldn't compete anymore. Bitcoin as a world government Are you struggling to see the connection there? If all assets can be exchanged directly for one another, then currencies are no longer dependent upon geography. Suddenly, smaller countries such as Switzerland, Singapore, or Dubai, have an opportunity to compete with their currencies on a global scale. They can add privacy features or Bitcoin backing. So even if you don't trade a megabyte on your hard drive directly for a cup of sugar, you can at least more-easily choose what liquid currency you convert to. This makes Bitcoin as like a world government, placing a constraint on every state. If a country spends more than they have, people who hold the currency can “exit” to BTC, or the DeFi Matrix. Honorable mention I've covered the main thread of this conversation, but it's extremely wide-ranging, and this summary is of course no substitute for actually listening to the conversation. Some ideas I'd like to give honorable mention, which you'll learn more about if you listen to the episode, are: Bitcoin as a “money battery,” that uses the surplus of renewable energy sources Blockchain explorers as the stealth threat to search engines How data becomes money when stored on the blockchain, thus making blockchain companies more secure How data stored on the blockchain makes it difficult to spread falsehoods What it means to be a “capital allocator,” and why we need more of them The principle/agent problem, and how automation will relegate management to the arrangement of automation Unbundling and rebundling Why San Francisco is like a terrible product with great legacy distribution How city coins will turn NIMBY into YIMBY Bitcoin as a parallel to the Protestant Reformation There you have it. I wish I knew enough to intelligently disagree with Balaji somewhere, but I personally wanted to digest the conversation, as it's a wide-ranging and cohesive picture that gives the appearance of being correct. Go listen to the full episode to learn more. Image via Flickr: TechCrunch Mind Management is a Kindle Deal! Amazon has hand-selected Mind Management, Not Time Management for a promotional discount. It's only $2.49 on Amazon.com and Amazon.ca. Offer ends March 31st, so grab it now! About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/balaji-srinivasan-tim-ferriss-summary-centralized-china-decentralized-world

It seems even the most devout techno-utopiasts carry around a Moleskine notebook. They appreciate the way writing longhand on paper alters their thought processes. Yet the same people think writing on a typewriter is absurd, performative, pretentious, or a deliberate troll. Over the past year, I've grown to love writing on a typewriter. I didn't write my first three books on a typewriter, but I am my next one. I use my typewriter to write articles (yes, this one), email newsletters, and even tweets. I think you should try it. Write on a typewriter. The typewriter is the best writing tool ever If you've followed my work a while, you've seen me experiment with progressively more-primitive writing tools. I first used an AlphaSmart – a portable word-processor – seven years ago. Readers of my latest book, Mind Management, Not Time Management will recognize the typewriter as another “grippy” tool. It helps you get a grip on your thoughts, without letting them slip. But, I think the typewriter is the end of this road. I won't be making cuneiform impressions on clay any time soon, and I won't even bother experimenting with a chisel and stone tablet. As the musician John Mayer – who writes his lyrics on a typewriter – has said, “I'm not picking the typewriter because I think it's hip. It's the best version of the idea that's ever come around.” Or, as I say, there is no more pure writing device than a typewriter. Before you dismiss that statement, think about it carefully. Notice I said “writing,” not “editing,” nor “publishing.” Computers are great for publishing A computer is the greatest publishing device ever. I have a computer to thank for my career as an author. It not only helps me lay out the interiors of my books and design my covers, but without my computer, I couldn't then publish my books to a market of hundreds of millions of readers around the globe. None of it could be done without my computer. And since my computer is also what I use to crowdsource editing from my readers and prepare manuscripts, the computer is not only the best publishing device, it's the best editing device. Typewriters are great for writing Write, edit, publish: Those are the steps you must repeat to be a writer, and they have to be done in order. You can take a step backward, but you can't skip a step forward. No device does the first step better than a typewriter. It's for writing, not research Some will protest that you can't look things up on a typewriter. Well, that's “research,” and it can be done before writing, or after writing, while editing. Research, however, is not writing. Only writing is writing. Your first draft doesn't belong on the cloud Some will point out that when you write on a typewriter, your work isn't stored on a hard drive or backed up to the cloud. It's too easy to lose sheets of paper. These people fundamentally misunderstand the writing process. As Ernest Hemingway said, “The first draft of anything is shit.” The typewriter is where you say everything you might want to say and explore how to say it. While it shows up on a page, the real work takes place in your mind – daydreamt in your own personal cloud. As you write, you print Not that your first draft isn't handy to have. This makes the typewriter the better writing device than its cousin, the AlphaSmart. The AlphaSmart has a tiny screen, which is a good forcing-function to keep your fingers moving. But once the writing is done, you mostly have to rely on what new connections you've made in your mind. As you write on a typewriter, you also print. When you're done, you have a page you can pick up and mark on while you pace around or read parts aloud. By the way, if you're thinking that piece of paper is bad for the environment, consider that one hour of computer use is worth about seven sheets of paper. We all have scrap paper lying around with a bare side we can type on. You can save that from a landfill – and a typewriter, too! When you write longhand on paper, you also get something tactile you can review. That is, if you have great penmanship. I, for one, still have illegible handwriting, even after forty years experience holding a pencil. I love how no matter what you write on a typewriter, it always looks the same: Invectives, tirades, and vituperations are printed with the same font as love letters, manifestos, and fan mail. The shapes of the letters impart no meaning, leaving only the words to do their jobs. Typewriters are faster than longhand As someone who wrote a book about how time management is overrated, I have to admit, it isn't the most important thing in the world that you can write faster on a typewriter than by hand. The way longhand writing slows down your thought process has its place – as does the nimble qualities of writing on a computer in those rare cases where you merely need to record something you've already thought through. A typewriter sits right in the sweet spot between speed and deliberation. The keys require more force than those of a computer, and you can only write a dozen words or so before a bell rings, bringing you back to the present moment and reminding you to push the carriage to the start position. Typewriters are tools for thought The typewriter is the best writing tool, which makes it a great thinking tool. This is less about what the typewriter makes you think and more about what the typewriter doesn't make you think. When I wrote about my AlphaSmart seven years ago, I was bombarded with comments about how it was weak to want a device that didn't connect to the internet. If I wanted to avoid distraction, I should just suck it up and focus – at best disconnect my laptop from the internet. By now, more people have realized they aren't infallible masters of their actions, and are prone to distractions. So, the first thing people usually appreciate about the typewriter is that it will prevent them from checking email or their favorite social media vice. The only web you'll find on a typewriter might be made by a spider, but you'll only have those if you aren't a writer. Typewriters are great for what they don't have The typewriter has no software and no firmware – it only has hardware. This means not a single software-update notification. My Smith-Corona has been running on the same hardware since the Truman administration. And isn't it true, man, those annoying software updates, while they promise to improve the interface, are really for security? The typewriter is immune to attacks and hacks. And the NSA can't touch it because there's No Software Aboard, and so No Suspect Apps, thus No Snitching to Apple. No thought crimes will be committed on the typewriter. You can write your thoughts, No Strings Attached. You don't get lost on a typewriter. There's no main menu, no hamburger navigation, no apps to sample – just a writing feast. The only thing that crashes are the keys. Since the typewriter lacks modern features such as the internet or software, that means no spelling- or grammar-check. If you make a mistake, you have three choices: strike it out, paint on whiteout (if you can still find some), or my personal favorite: live with it and move on. There's no fooling yourself when writing on a typewriter: This is a first draft. It will not be televised. Do not collect 200 edits. You can only pass “Go.” Digital Zettelkasten now on Audible! New Audible users listen free through this link. Also available on other platforms. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/write-on-a-typewriter/

There's a reason the expression, “unfinished business” has such provocative power. Unfinished projects stack up like skeletons in our cluttered mental closets. We know if we crack open that door, we'll be reminded of our failed intentions, our foolish optimism, and our broken promises – to others and to ourselves. But unfinished business doesn't get the credit it deserves. Unfinished projects are a valuable and necessary part of the creative process. They build skills and plant seeds of ideas for future projects. And even when a project seems as if it's unfinished, sometimes it's not. The iPhone came from unfinished business We wouldn't have the iPhone if it weren't for unfinished business. When Steve Jobs set out to make a phone that didn't suck, he drew upon unfinished projects, and he left unfinished projects in his wake. The iPhone we know and love – and all the imitation ancestor smartphones it spawned – may seem like an obvious invention. But at the start of the project, it was far from obvious. A trackwheel phone!? From the beginning, the iPhone was built upon the foundation laid by the iPod. The iPod had transformed Apple's business. iPod sales were forty-five percent of Apple's revenue in 2005. But in the early 2000s, when you left the house, you had a dilemma: Do I bring my phone, my digital camera, my iPod – or some combination of the three? Jobs had seen how the digital camera market was getting eaten up by phones that had cameras. That was one less device you had to carry with you. He knew the iPod's market share would erode, too, as soon as there was a decent phone that could hold music. If Apple could develop that phone, they could stay alive. So the first iPhone prototypes looked like iPods. You'd use the iPod's then-famous trackwheel not only to navigate through menus, but also to select letters to type with, or numbers to dial the phone. Fortunately, this trackwheel phone became unfinished business. But the winning prototype also created unfinished business. The iPhone killed the iPad After toying with the trackwheel phone for months, it became apparent that Apple might want to explore another approach. So, Jobs and the other executives assigned another team to develop a different prototype. This time, they would develop a multitouch prototype – one where you'd actually use your fingers on a screen to interact with the phone. Apple had been experimenting with touch for many years now, such as when they developed their trackpad. There was one project they already had in the works that they borrowed from to develop the iPhone we know today. Apple had been working on a tablet computer with multitouch technology. Not only would you touch the screen on this tablet to “click” on items, or drag them around, but it could also sense various gestures, such as swipes, or even multiple fingers. So, Apple drew upon the technology from this tablet-computer project to use that technology in their phone project. They essentially placed what would become the iPad on hold, thus making more unfinished business. Creativity is messy Let's stop for a second to think about how horrible it would be to use a trackwheel phone. You'd have to run your thumb over a trackwheel circle to find the letter you'd want to type, then click on the center of the wheel to select the letter. Or, you'd have to click on the right part of the circle to activate the corresponding letter. You'd have to do this to dial phone numbers, or select applications, enter names into your address book, or – God forbid – to write text messages. It's obvious to us now this is a horrible idea. But that's because we've used the iPhone. Creativity is a messy process. What will later seem an obviously bad or great idea will not be obviously such when you're in the thick of a project. Want proof? In the process of making history, the smartest product designers and engineers in the world, including Steve Jobs, spent months exploring a trackwheel phone. Not only that, but at the end of those months, they said to themselves, “Hey, maybe there's a better way?” They didn't kill the trackwheel phone, though. They merely started working on another prototype in parallel. You'd think that as soon as they saw multitouch, it would have been obvious it was the better solution. But instead, even after six more months, working on both the trackwheel and multitouch versions of the phone, the solution still wasn't clear. As Walter Isaacson describes in his biography of Jobs, the executives had a meeting to finally commit to one of the paths – and it still wasn't an easy decision. They hadn't figured out how to make the trackwheel experience elegant. They saw potential in the multitouch experience, but they weren't sure it was technically possible. Isaacson says this was what Jobs liked to call a “bet-the-company moment.” They finally killed the trackwheel phone, and pursued the multitouch phone, unsure if they could make it work. Professionals make unfinished business on purpose So, by deciding to pursue the multitouch phone, instead of the trackwheel phone, Jobs and the other executives deliberately created two kinds of unfinished business. One: they killed the trackwheel phone. All the time and energy they put into that project essentially went to waste. Two: They killed their multitouch tablet computer. They had to divert resources from that project, to give this multitouch phone a shot. But notice none of this is a surprise. Notice we use words like “prototype,” and when you're making two different versions of the same product, you're pretty sure one of those paths will become a dead end. This is very different from the way most of us work when we're first learning how to be creative. We start a project assuming we'll finish it. But when we realize it won't turn out as we envisioned, we quit. And we feel bad. We lament our “shiny object syndrome”, and fall into a downward spiral of guilt. We feel bad that we can't finish projects, so we don't start projects, to avoid feeling bad if we don't finish them. But professional creatives and dilettantes aren't so different. Both professionals and dilettantes start projects, and fail to finish them. But professionals know what to expect. They try multiple approaches, knowing they'll scrap some. They also know that even when it looks like a project is over, it's not over. The unfinished business that was the key to iPhone's success The day after Steve Jobs introduced the iPhone to the world, he called VP of operations, Jeff Williams. There was a problem with the phone. He said, “I've been carrying this thing around and it's scratched in my pocket.” Those of us who had a first-generation iPhone know, it's always had a glass screen. But once again, the obvious solution isn't always obvious – or possible. The iPhone that Steve Jobs introduced on-stage in January of 2007 didn't have a glass screen – it had a plastic screen. Jobs told Williams, “We need glass.” Williams explained that yes, it looked like as technology evolved, it would be possible to have glass screens on future iPhones, but all the current technology they had tested broke when dropped, every time. “No, no, no,” Jobs said. “You don't understand. When it ships in June, it needs to be glass.” “Shut up and let me teach you some science” Jobs called the CEO of Corning, Wendell Weeks, who came to visit Apple in California. Weeks probably wondered why Jobs had bothered, because he started going on about how it was impossible to make a strong, scratch-resistant glass, good enough for a mobile phone. He had learned a lot about glass, building Apple retail stores around the world. Weeks finally said, “Can you shut up and let me teach you some science?”, then drew on the whiteboard, explaining an ion-exchange process that made a super-strong compression layer on the surface of the glass. Jobs wanted the glass, but there was a problem: This glass was unfinished business. Corning had developed it way back in the 1960s, but, it was a failed project. They never found a market for it, so they stopped making it. When Jobs told Weeks he wanted this glass for the iPhone launch in six months, Weeks had to break the bad news to him. “We don't have the capacity,” he said. “None of our plants make the glass now.” Jobs is of course famous for his reality-distortion field, so he pushed Weeks, telling him, “Yes, you can do it. Get your mind around it. You can do it.” Weeks converted Corning's Harrisburg, Kentucky plant into a full-time factory for iPhone screens, practically overnight. “We couldn't have done it without [your unfinished business]” So the iPhone that has transformed the way we communicate and live came from unfinished business. Apple had to start work they knew they wouldn't ship to make it happen. And they had to create unfinished business by diverting resources from that tablet-computer project – which of course finally became finished business years later, in 2010, when it launched as the iPad. Thankfully, Corning had gone through the trouble of making a super-strong glass, not knowing what they would need it for. It sat on the R&D shelf for decades before it became finished business – now known as “gorilla glass.” Corning CEO Wendell Weeks received a memo o n the day the iPhone launched, which he later framed and hung in his office. It was from Steve Jobs, and it underlines the power of Corning's unfinished business – which they later made finished. The note said, “We couldn't have done it without you.” Steve Jobs introducing the iPhone image: Dan Farber Thank you for having me on your podcasts! Thank you to Andrew Skotzko for having me on Make Things That Matter. As always, you can find all podcasts I've been on at kadavy.net/interviews. Digital Zettelkasten now on Audible! New Audible users listen free through this link. Also available on other platforms. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/ode-to-the-unfinished/

There's something I want to talk about, but frankly, I'm a little embarrassed to do so. However, I write with my former self in mind, and my former self would want to know about this. So here I go. I want to talk about how to be somebody. What do I mean by “somebody?” To be somebody is to be known for your work. To have your name synonymous – or even better, eponymous – with your accomplishments. I used to be “nobody.” Now I am “somebody.” I am known in some circles for my work. My work has led to accomplishments I'm proud of. My work and I are one. There have been many steps on my journey to becoming somebody, but if I had to pick one day, it was September 14th, 2011. That was the day my first book debuted in the top 20 on Amazon. It's hard to overstate what a massive change it was, in every aspect of my life, to overnight go from an unknown tinkerer to a “best-selling author.” The day I became somebody, my life changed. The benefits of being somebody Being somebody comes with some benefits. Here they are: Career success: This the best reason to become somebody. Name recognition helps you make money for the work you do. The money for the work you do helps you do more of that work. But career success can come in other forms. Being somebody has meant that I've gotten speaking invitations all over the world. Thanks to the ones I've been able to accept, I've spoken all over the U.S., and in eight countries. Respect: When I became somebody, everyone started to show me more respect. Introductions went from, “This is David, he is weird and I'm not sure what he does” to “This is David, he's a famous author.” (Prior to becoming somebody, I was introduced by a well-known Chicago entrepreneur – right in front of my face – as a “malingerer.”) When I became somebody, my idiosyncrasies and lifestyle choices suddenly weren't viewed as odd. Instead, they were seen as something you would expect from a creative person who is somebody. Connections: Because I am somebody, I can make connections with other somebodies. If I'm interested in the work of another somebody, I can reach out to that person, and they will generally respond. Or, I can ask for an introduction from another somebody. I'm rarely more than a degree or two away from the somebody I want to meet. This is how I managed to interview many somebodies I admire for my podcast, such as Adam Conover, Elise Baurer, David Allen, James Altucher, Seth Godin, and many more. Dating prospects: When I became somebody, my dating prospects improved immediately. This admittedly has downsides, because you don't want to be with anyone who wants to be with you because you're somebody. And if you think being somebody entitles you to love you'll become a horrible person. But being somebody serves as a signal that you're trustworthy. Even though, in recent years, many much-bigger somebodies have turned out to not be trustworthy, the social proof that your accomplishments have gained you name recognition counts for a lot in at least getting someone to acknowledge you as a potential mate. Random perks: I'm only known for my work in small circles, but that doesn't prevent me from being “somebody” outside those circles. I don't flaunt my somebody-ness, but people Google. Oh, do they Google. There have been many situations where someone has discovered I was somebody, because they Googled me, and then they commented on it. Which means there have been many other situations where they didn't admit to it. This improves your prospects in a variety of situations. Sometimes that's intangible, but I know it once at least helped me rent an apartment for a couple months during a mini life. Being somebody isn't all upsides. I'll get to more of the downsides later. But if you want to become somebody, how do you do that? Why do you want to become somebody? Before you try to become somebody, ask yourself why you want to become somebody. This can be a hard question to ask and it gets to the heart of why I'm a little embarrassed to even be talking about this. American culture is driven by people desperate to become somebody, but it's unfashionable to openly admit it's something you want. What do you want out of being somebody? If you want to become somebody, ask yourself what you expect to get out of it. It might not even be necessary to become somebody to get those things. The best reason to become somebody is to get paid to do what you love, so you can do it more. Being somebody is a job requirement behind many creative professions, such as an author, musician, or entertainer. It's hard to substitute the benefits of being somebody in these cases. But if you want respect, or for various parts of life to become easier, there are other ways to get those things. For example, you can make connections with somebodies simply by being more outgoing and intentional. A dirty little secret about the benefits I mentioned earlier is that much of the value of becoming somebody doesn't come from being somebody in the eyes of other people. Much of it comes from being somebody in the eyes of yourself. If you want to be somebody, and you feel you are not, you will have little confidence. If you don't want to be somebody in the first place, nothing stands in the way of your confidence. And confidence is a big part of success. What are the downsides of becoming somebody? Being somebody comes with downsides and risks, and you should have these in mind if you're going to try to become somebody. I think I have about the right amount of somebody-ness. The vast majority of people have no idea who I am. A small circle of people respects what I do, and when I meet them, they are always interesting and nice people. As of yet, I have few vocal haters. I am not enough of a somebody to frequently be recognized in public, outside of industry conferences. (One time in my life, I was recognized in a gym, and that went just fine.) I'm not enough of a somebody for it to impede my daily life, such that I would have to be wary of going to public places, or worse yet, followed by paparazzi. I would see those as downsides. The main risk of being somebody is reputational damage, known today in its most-extreme form as being “cancelled.” For many professions, reputational damage can be devastating, but mostly only if your career depends upon others risking their reputations by working with you. If you are an actor, comedian, and perhaps a musician, if your reputation is damaged, you may have trouble getting work. If you are an author, you have to be pretty heinous to have a publisher drop you. If you are a self-published author, you'd have to be even worse. If anything, an author should be so lucky to be “cancelled” (considering it's for an unfair reason). You'd have to be pretty successful to even qualify to be cancelled, and you'd sell even more books. The best way for someone to prevent being cancelled is to not do awful things. But “tall poppy syndrome” does exist. People may want to cut you down just because you are somebody, because they would benefit by doing so, or other reasons that are beyond your control. Even if the majority of reasonable people are on your side, there are a lot of psychopaths in the world who could make your life hell, and being somebody likely increases the chances of that. Should you become a pseudonymous somebody? More and more people are becoming pseudonymous somebodies, in what Balaji Srinivasan calls “the pseudonymous economy.” Depending on what work you do, you can build a reputation for that work without anyone laying eyes on you or your real name. So, you can reap the career benefits of being somebody, without the personal risks of reputational damage. If your pseudonym's reputation is damaged, you still lose those career benefits, but hopefully your true identity is still safe. You won't get the public-facing benefits of being somebody, but you might get the boost in your self-perception that comes along with doing work good enough to be recognized. You can also work under a pseudonym without remaining totally anonymous. In other words, people might recognize your face, but not know your real name. This way, you get some of the public-facing benefits, but prevent your privacy from being violated. I have no idea what Tynan's real name is, and I don't need to know. If I could start over, I would write under a pseudonym, but probably still show my face. A big benefit of pseudonyms is you can improve your chances of becoming somebody by making your name easier to remember, and perhaps even associated with the area in which you work. Joanna Penn uses her real name, which would have been a perfectly-chosen pseudonym, since she writes about writing. I can't help but wonder if some of the success of authors such as James Clear, Ryan Holiday, and Mark Manson can be attributed to their memorable and easy-to-spell names. So many entertainers work under “stage names”, it feels silly to even present an example, but Marilyn Monroe was born Norma Jeane Mortenson. Are you trying to fill a hole in your heart? The older I get, the less I care about being somebody. I want to be somebody to the extent that it helps me sell more books, so I can write more books. But when I was nobody, I wanted very badly to become somebody. I may think I don't care about being somebody, in part because I've gotten used to being somebody. It's the “water,” that I, a fish, swim in. Some of it may be that being somebody isn't quite as amazing as I had expected it to be when I was nobody (though it's still good). But I have to admit – and this is part of where my embarrassment comes from – I to some extent wanted to become somebody to fill a hole in my heart. If you don't have enough love in your life, you may search for it in becoming somebody. There are many examples of celebrities who had absent or abusive parents or traumatic upbringings, though I don't know for sure if that comes out to a higher rate than the rest of the population. I would guess many of them wanted to become celebrities to fill holes in their hearts. Wanting to become somebody because you have a hole in your heart can be great motivational fuel. It can be, like I talked about in The Heart to Start, That Which Pulls You Through. But becoming somebody will not fill that hole. I feel bad for celebrities I see who are constantly in the news, acting out in destructive ways. I hope they're just playing the “there's no such thing as bad publicity” game, but what I fear is happening to them is they wanted to become somebodies to fill holes in their hearts. They became somebodies, but still had those holes, and now they keep throwing everything and everyone in their abundant lives into those holes – which are really endless pits of despair. Go ahead and use the hole in your heart to motivate you, but once you achieve somebody status, you better figure out how to fill that hole – because becoming somebody won't do it. Better yet, get therapy and work on yourself while you achieve somebody status. I hate to give people the wrong idea, but becoming somebody does at least help to fill the hole in your heart. It helps you skip levels on Maslow's Hierarchy: by achieving self-actualization through your art, you're better equipped to backfill the lower levels of the hierarchy, such as a sense of belonging. It's a lot easier to feel like you belong in the world when people respect you more, and when the sacrifices you've made and the work you've put in for years on end lead to success, and aren't what you fear they are: the desperate thrashings of a drowning lunatic. But that's as far as it goes. Beware the somebody cycle I feel bad for big celebrities because I think they've probably experienced what I'll call “the somebody cycle.” I only lightly experienced this myself, but fortunately escaped being sucked in by the maelstrom (perhaps, thankfully, because I didn't become a big enough somebody to make that maelstrom too powerful to escape). Here's how the somebody cycle works: You want to become somebody to fill a hole in your heart You work hard, and nobody recognizes your work, for years on end You think to yourself, “I'll show them,” and work even harder Your hard work (and luck) leads to you becoming somebody Suddenly you get more respect, and people want to be near you People want to be near you, in part, because you have more respect for yourself. So you may interpret even normal behavior from others as a higher level of respect. You think to yourself, “Where the hell were these people when I was nobody?” You get suspicious of people who want to be near you. They're only “using” you. You become awful to be around The only people who still want to be around you are the ones who want to be around “somebody.” They don't actually respect you or your work. Your suspicions turn out to be true. The world is full of blood-sucking leeches who only want to use you. Repeat steps 8–11 until you die of a drug overdose Sounds awful, right? I think it's still possible to become somebody, and not get sucked in by the somebody cycle. Stick to the principles of becoming somebody. The principles of becoming somebody If you want fewer of the downsides of being somebody, and more of the upsides, make sure you're becoming somebody for the right reasons. Here are four principles to follow on your quest to become somebody. 1. Be curious and passionate By far, the greatest benefit of being somebody is you get paid to do what interests you, and you get to do it more. But success can be a trap. If you become somebody doing something that interests you, the world will expect you to keep following that thing. But what made you successful might not have been your passion for that exact subject, but rather the process of discovery. My first book was about design. I quickly became known as the design guy. I stuck with that for a while, but became less and less interested in design. I've since embraced that what I'm actually curious about changes. The passion that actually drives me is the process of getting really curious about a subject, and digging into it, then sharing what I've learned. I could still be juicing the design thing, but I wouldn't be happy. Keep asking yourself if you're truly curious about your work, and whether you feel passionate about the process you're following. If not, change something. 2. Do great work You can let your desire to become somebody drive you to work hard, but the ultimate goal must not be to become somebody, but rather to do great work. Somebodies are attracted to other people who are curious and passionate about what they do, and who do good work. 3. Play the long game Jon Bokenkamp, creator of NBC's The Blacklist, has been on this show, on episode 93. How did I land him as a guest? When I was nobody, and Jon was less of a somebody than he is now, Jon emailed me out of the blue. He liked some design work I had posted online, and wanted to know if he could use it. I did him a favor, and more than a decade later, he returned the favor by being on my podcast. In the meantime, he had created one of the biggest shows in primetime television. From the time we first met, we were both curious and passionate people, trying to do good work. If you stick with being curious, passionate, and doing good work, you'll be surrounded by many future somebodies. Everyone else is looking for the closest sure win. Play the long game, and you'll become somebody. 4. Understand media Naval Ravikant says there are three kinds of leverage: you can have lots of capital, you can manage labor, or you can be savvy with media. The books and articles we read, the social media channels we consume, and the videos we watch, are just some of the media that shapes what we assume to be reality. This is easy to miss, because media is the “water” that we, the fish, swim in. It's possible to get lucky and become somebody without understanding media, but it's a lot easier if you do understand media. Pay close attention to how the somebodies you admire use media to increase their exposure, and shape how others see them. I've written summaries of a few classic media-theory books: The Image, Amusing Ourselves to Death, and – the best book for understanding media – Marshall McLuhan's Understanding Media. Go forth and become somebody I feel much better now, having shared that. I risked reputational damage by coming off as self-obsessed, but I think my former self would have appreciated reading this. If you feel you have something to offer the world, and would like to be recognized for it, go forth and become somebody! But remember to make it about enjoying the process, and doing work you can be proud of. Image: Evening Shows, Paul Klee Mind Management, Not Time Management now in hardcover! Mind Management, Not Time Management has now sold 10,000 copies! Order your hardcover "souvenir" from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or your favorite bookstore. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/how-to-be-somebody/

Systems save energy. Especially if the system helps you with something you do every day. This is why I have a system for cooking. When you're hungry, you make bad decisions, such as grabbing the quickest food you can find – which often happens to be unhealthy food. My cooking system ensures I never have to think about what to eat, or how to prepare it. It frees my time and my mind, so I can focus on creating. A little disclaimer before I begin: I'm not suggesting you eat what I eat. I have a mysterious chronic illness and am sensitive to damn near everything. This particular diet is optimized for very specific things that apply to me. If you build a system for yourself, you might want to eat something different. The basic principles still apply. Three principles of a cooking system My cooking system is based upon three principles: Batch what you can To batch, prepare what you can beforehand. You save time and energy, and – since many of your ingredients are already ready – you have a healthy meal in no time. As I'll explain in a bit, in my system, I cut and store vegetables beforehand. This is a little extra work up-front than cutting vegetables before any one meal, but over the course of several meals, it's less time and hassle. You sometimes have to make compromises for the sake of a system. Pre-cut vegetables are ever-so-slightly less tasty and fresh than vegetables you've just cut, but cutting in advance is still a net-positive. Never run out A good system prevents emergencies. After a long day, you don't want to suddenly discover you have no food, or are missing a crucial ingredient. Even if you had the energy to do so, it would be a waste to run to the grocery store. But you probably don't have that energy, so you'll probably order delivery – and that delivery food will not be as healthy as a home-cooked meal would have been, and will cost more. My system is designed to never run out of ingredients. I know the minimum amount of each ingredient I can have before its time to order more. I also know my ingredients won't go bad because I've had them too long. As you use your system, pay attention to just how perishable your regular ingredients are. How long can you keep them? At what minimum supply is it time to order more, so you won't run out? For example, I have two jars of coconut oil. When I run out of the first, coconut oil goes on my shopping list. I know I'll buy again before I run out of the second jar. Monotony first (variety later) To start your cooking system, make the same things every single meal. Through repetition, you can gradually sprinkle in variety. Many people think this sounds boring. “I could never do that,” they say. “I could never eat the same thing every meal!” Well, you don't have to. Eating the same thing every meal is only temporary. It allows you to put together the pieces of your cooking system, such as how often you'll order ingredients, and what compromises you're willing to make to have ingredients ready. Making the same things with the same ingredients and the same processes gives you one opportunity after another to optimize your system. When you run out of ingredients or they go bad, you learn how often you need to order. You can also experiment with different processes, and learn how different trade-offs affect the quality of what you cook. Once you have the building blocks of a system in place, you can start adding in variety. Through many iterations of my cooking system, I no longer eat the exact same thing every meal. Many components, such as the vegetables, garnishes, spices, or proteins, can easily be substituted in the same processes to make different dishes. Many people think they couldn't eat the same thing every meal, but then they continue to do what I used to do: Wait until I was famished, then desperately look for whatever food I could find to shove in my mouth – making bad decisions in the process. If you do this, too, don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good. You don't have to eat the same things forever. Try it for a while, then mix in some variety. Categories of ingredients While you may not want to eat my exact diet, there are categories of ingredients that are nearly universal: protein, vegetables, spices, and garnish. Here's how those apply to my cooking system. Protein I eat a variety of meat-based protein sources. I mostly alternate between ground beef and ground pork, but I also occasionally eat ground turkey. My butcher in Colombia has both beef and pork, and packs them into bags of individual serving sizes. I stack them up in my freezer. At the end of each day, I take a couple packs from the freezer, and transfer them to the fridge. The packs are thin enough, they'll be thawed by the next day. Vegetables The main vegetable in my system is zucchini. I eat a lot of zucchini. My other staple vegetables are carrots, red bell peppers, mushrooms, cucumbers, and celery. Variability in the sizes of zucchinis has had a big effect on my cooking system. The zucchinis in Colombia are not like Whole Foods, in the U.S., where every zucchini is pretty much the exact same. When I am in the U.S., I can quickly enough make zucchini noodles on-demand with a small handheld spiralizer. But since there's so much variance in zucchini thickness in Colombia, I use a table-top spiralizer, and store the noodles in a container. You can also buy pre-cut zucchini noodles at some grocery stores, generally not in Colombia, so I'll sometimes buy these if they're available and I'm feeling lazy. Carrots, I spiralize if they're big enough for the table-top spiralizer. Otherwise, they're cut down to a small size that can cook quickly. The bell peppers and mushrooms are also cut down to size for cooking. Celery is cut into short sticks for garnish. Cucumbers are cut into half-moons, separated from the seeds for longer storage. Spices By changing the spices in a dish, you can totally change the flavor. But, I have one go-to spice mix that I make over and over. It's a taco mix from a keto cookbook, consisting of chili powder, non-sugar sweetener, salt, black pepper, and some other spices. I fill a Tupperware container with the mix every few weeks. Each time I make the mix, I pay attention to my supply of each of those spices, and put on my shopping list any which are low. This way, I never run out of key spices. Garnish I already mentioned that I garnish my dish with cut celery and cucumber, but I have other things I use in each meal. First, I put on a seed mixture. It's made of various high-fat seeds: hemp, sunflower, and pumpkin seeds, and sometimes flax seeds. Then, I put on oil. It's usually coconut oil. Sometimes it's flax oil. Less often, it's olive or sunflower oil. My body hates me if I eat a carb, so these seeds and oils help add fat to my dishes, which gives me hard-to-find calories, and helps keep me in ketosis. I also get some extra calories (and fat) by accompanying each meal with avocado. This is as freshly-cut as possible – unless there is some left over from a prior meal. Avocados are just a little too perishable to systematize much, though I've gotten better at identifying ripe ones through the avocado challenge I talked about on episode 245. Starches Honorable mention goes to the starches category. As I said, my body hates carbs, but starches would be a key part of a cooking system for most people. You could use a rice-cooker, and always have hot rice available. Pasta would be a little more work, as it wouldn't be too good if you didn't cook it fresh every time. The same probably goes for potatoes or sweet potatoes. Then again, you might be able to make all these starches in a rice cooker, which could save a lot of time. My cooking process Now that I've talked about the principles and categories of my cooking system, here's the process I follow. As I talk about some of the decisions I've made in this system, you'll get an idea of how you can build your own system. Step 1: Begin cooking protein To begin, I start the burner and put the pan on the stove. I pull a bag of meat out of the fridge, slice it open, and put the meat on the pan. I then put some of my spice mix on the meat, turn it over, and turn up the heat a bit. I want to burn some of the spices onto the ground meat, for extra flavor. Step 2: Take out other ingredients Through repetition, I've figured out the exact order to do each step in my system. Notice that I started the burner first. That gives it a little time to heat up, while I'm removing the meat and unpacking it to cook. It takes time to take so many containers of ingredients out of the fridge, so I do that after I've started cooking the meat. Step 3: Begin cooking “round 1” vegetables I could add all my vegetables at the same time, but then they wouldn't each be optimally cooked. So, I take the extra effort to add my vegetables in “rounds,” based upon how long they will take to cook. At this point, I add my “round 1” vegetables: mushrooms, and if my carrots are sliced and not spiralized, I'll also add them. Otherwise, they get added later, which I'll explain in a later step. Step 4: Prepare plate with garnishes While the meat and first round of vegetables are cooking, I prepare the plate, with garnishes. I take a plate out of the cabinet, and add some celery and cucumber to the edge of the plate. Step 5: Break up protein, and add “round 2” vegetables Now that the meat and round 1 vegetables have cooked a bit – while I prepared the plate – I break up the ground meat, and stir it up with the vegetables. I then add the “round 2” vegetables, which is usually just sliced up red bell peppers. Step 6: Cut avocado While the red bell peppers are cooking, I cut an avocado, and add half of it to the plate as garnish. Step 7: Add “round 3” vegetables Finally, I add the “round 3” vegetables. This is my zucchini noodles and – if the carrots were large enough to make noodles – my carrot noodles. Since carrots and zucchinis are of different consistencies, the carrot noodles are sliced thinner than the zucchini noodles. This way, I can add both at the same time, and they will both cook to the right point, in parallel. I've been cooking without a cover on the pan this whole time (otherwise the dish would get too watery). But at this point, I cover it, so the noodles get steamed by the trapped moisture. Step 8: Serve Within a couple minutes, the round 3 vegetables have steamed, and all the other ingredients have cooked to their perfect points in the meantime. While that was happening, I've put a glass of water on the table, and grabbed a fork. I've gotten a measuring spoon and my seed mixture ready, and I've gotten the oils ready, too. I serve the entire contents of the pan onto my plate, add my seeds and oils, and I'm ready to eat. Clean up Clean up after this is easy, because I do this all in a single pan. I'm mindful of health effects of my cooking materials, and it seems every one is potentially problematic: Teflon is toxic; once aluminum is in your body, you can't get it out; ceramic-coated cookware doesn't last; and materials that are already in our diets, such as copper or iron, may impart too much of those substances into your food. That leaves stainless steel, but then you're eating nickel. Thus, I use a “21/0”, nickel-free stainless steel pan. This could be the wrong choice for some reason I'm not aware of, but I'm trying. “But I like grocery shopping/cooking” Many people object to this cooking system, saying they actually like grocery shopping, so don't want to do less of it, and that they actually like cooking. You don't have to cut down on anything you don't like to follow a system – just design your system accordingly. This is my default meal, and I can always make it when I want to use my time and energy thinking about something else – such as writing my next book. But, I sometimes make a new recipe, and I have a grab-bag of other recipes I make if and when I want variety – which turns out is not terribly often. When friends hear about my system, they often ask what my partner thinks of it. She actually loves it. I left her out of my description of the process, but when we make this together for dinner, we're like poetry in motion – our moves are perfectly coordinated, with me cooking things as she cuts vegetables or takes containers out of the fridge. She has grown to like it so much that when I'm not in town, she follows the same system. Start your cooking system Hopefully this gets you thinking about how the processes you follow affect how you use your time and energy, and the decisions you make about what to eat. (A special thanks to Nelson Quest, who once made a YouTube video that no longer exists, which inspired this system.) Mind Management, Not Time Management now in hardcover! Mind Management, Not Time Management has now sold 10,000 copies! Order your hardcover "souvenir" from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or your favorite bookstore. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »   Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/my-coooking-system/

Many people think our hunter-gatherer ancestors lived short and miserable lives. In fact, that's what most anthropologists thought. Until the 1960s, when they looked more closely at how foragers got by. The way foragers “worked” can tell us a lot about the way we, as creators, work. Farming gets a lot of output with little effort No one can be exactly sure when a human first planted a seed to grow food, but this one act was one of the most revolutionary in human history – up there with the invention of fire, or the internet. The agricultural revolution meant humans no longer needed to roam around, searching for food. But, with the innovation of agriculture came some trade-offs. We had to wait for our crops to grow, so we had to stay in one place. But staying in one place didn't work out-of-the-box everywhere. As anthropologist James Suzman points out in his book, Work: A Deep History, from the Stone Age to the Age of Robots, the first successful cities sprouted up in floodplains. These areas flooded regularly, and that refreshed the nutrients in the soil, which was a must for successful farming, as crop-rotation hadn't yet been invented. Which brings us to another drawback of farming. Yes, farming gets you a lot of food with little effort, but eventually your once-fertile soil runs out of nutrients. Creative “farming” grows ideas into finished products As creatives, it's useful for us to “farm.” Plant seeds of ideas. Give them water, sunlight, and fertile soil, and eventually you'll have a crop of creative products to harvest. I talked in my book, Mind Management, Not Time Management, about “creative systems.” Cultivating ideas takes time. By working with the cycles of your energy to do short bursts of work, and letting incubation do the rest, you can always have creative products to ship. (I talked specifically about my creative system for Love Mondays newsletters on episode 260.) Creative farming is a great way to consistently turn ideas into finished products. But foraging is where you get the ideas in the first place. Foraging is more effective than you think In the 1960s, anthropologist Richard Borshay Lee lived with a hunter-gatherer tribe in the Kalahari desert. He carefully tracked what they spent time on, and what they got out of it. Lee found these tribes met all their needs for food in just fifteen hours work a week. They consumed well over the daily recommended intake of 2,000 calories, and they did it all without farming. They did it by foraging. Fifteen hours a week to get everything you need. That sounds appealing to many of us. Fifteen hours a week is ironically the number of hours economist John Maynard Keynes once predicted we in the industrial world would work. In 1930, in the midst of the Great Depression, Keynes had the guts to predict that by 2030, we would at least quadruple our productivity. As a result, he said, we would work only fifteen hours a week. But foraging doesn't lead to progress We reached that quadruple-productivity mark way back in 1980. But we still work way more than fifteen hours a week. Why? We can make philosophical arguments about the hedonic treadmill, and how we buy too much junk. But one thing is for sure: We want to see “progress.” These hunter gatherer tribes, who have sadly been all but completely driven off their foraging land by the industrial world, did lead rich lives. They worked for what they needed, they had plenty of leisure time, and everything they did was deeply integrated with their families and communities. But they didn't have running water, electricity, or modern medicine. Many lived as long as anyone in the civilized world – if they reached adulthood. But they had a high infant-mortality rate, which pushed down the average lifespan. They didn't have what we consider “progress.” They didn't wonder if their children would live in a world with human flight, space exploration, or the internet. Each generation's life was essentially the same as the previous. Creatives need to forage As creatives, we can't just farm. We need to “forage,” too. We need to wander around, follow our curiosities, and see what surprises we can find. The hunter-gatherers of the Kalahari lived in such a rich ecosystem, they could always feel confident they could find something to eat if they went and looked for it. But as a creator, happening upon a feast is less common. It's not every day a song comes to us in our sleep, like it did when Paul McCartney wrote “Yesterday.” Or that a happy accident occurs, like when Charles Goodyear spilled chemicals and developed vulcanized rubber. This is why you need to farm what you forage. Forage, then farm, to have great ideas, then make them real Farming what you forage isn't just a good way to do creative work. If you want to be consistent, it's the only way. This is hard to see, because we're working in a world that's a relic of the assembly line. Doctors, lawyers, accountants, and software developers, themselves, are produced on assembly lines. They follow curricula. They take exams. These exams have bubbles they fill out, so a machine can read them – as long as they're filled out with a number-two pencil. But, like farming, these professions grow stale, like soil being sapped of nutrients. The curricula have to change, as do the exams. But those curricula don't change from farming over and over. Someone has to farm what they forage, to change the field. Remember from episode 266 that for Henry Ford to put workers on the assembly line, he had to first farm what he foraged. It took a lot of experimentation and tinkering – from Model A to Model S, in addition to the work he did in two previous failed car companies – before the Model T was ready to be produced en masse. But the soil eventually got sapped of its nutrients. While Ford refused to change the Model T until sales dwindled, other car companies were farming what they foraged – innovating to build better cars. We're not used to farming what we forage. It's not how work has gotten done in recent history. But as automation and AI threaten more and more jobs, we're freed from the drudgery of just farming. We need to forage, too. I talked in episode 250 about how I farm what I forage with my digital Zettelkasten (that article has since expanded into a successful book by the same name). To forage, I explore what interests me – reading books, listening to podcasts, and having conversations. To farm, I take notes, then categorize and connect them. These seeds of ideas grow over time, until I'm ready to harvest them. An idea can grow into a tweet, then a newsletter, then a podcast episode, maybe eventually even a book. Farming = clock time; Foraging = event time Farming and foraging call for different ways of thinking about time, too. In episode 235, I talked about the difference between “clock time,” and “event time.” Clock time's most recent roots come from Frederick Taylor's scientific management. Breaking actions down to split seconds was a big departure for farmers who moved to cities to work in industry. But farming, too, was a likely predecessor of clock time. Foragers could usually be confident that if they were hungry, they could find something to eat. When you live in a diverse ecosystem, if one thing is not doing so well, something else is. In fact, when Richard Borshay Lee was studying foragers, there was a drought. The nearby farmers couldn't grow crops. To survive, they had to rely on outside food aid. The tribe he was studying did not. They got by on foods they had found in the wild. When you're farming, you can't count on finding food whenever you're hungry. You have to grow it. So, you have to think carefully about time. If you don't plant your seeds, pull weeds, or water crops today, you'll be hungry a long time from now. This is probably one reason cultures close to the equator tend to think more about the present, whereas cultures in climates with changing seasons think more about the future. When surviving tomorrow depends upon what you do today, you think ahead. If you focus too much on farming, you'll always be on clock time. If you keep planting the same seeds and growing the same crops, your soil will become sterile. If you focus too much on foraging, you'll always be on event time. If you only rely on what you find in the wild, you'll always be living hand-to-mouth. You'll be waiting a long time between one idea and the next, and you'll struggle to develop them into finished products. Find a seed with potential, then plant it To farm what you forage, make space to wander. Follow your curiosity, even when it feels as if it will take you nowhere. But when you find something interesting that might have potential, plant the seed. Build creative systems that help you keep ideas growing, without sapping your soil. If you do those two things, you'll never have famines, and always have feasts. Image: Southern Gardens, Paul Klee About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/farm-forage/

There's a story I think of every time I'm in the throes of a difficult project. It's from the movie, Catch Me if You Can, about the infamous con artist, Frank Abignale, Jr. Frank's Father, Frank Senior, tells him a story: Two little mice fell in a bucket of cream. The first mouse quickly gave up and drowned. The second mouse wouldn't quit. He struggled so hard that eventually he turned that cream into butter, and crawled out. You hear the story several times throughout the movie. It's really the theme of the movie. When Frank Junior's parents separate, he feels like the mouse drowning in cream. He runs away and poses as an airline pilot, a doctor, and a lawyer, forging paychecks and flying all over, like a little mouse, frantically and desperately moving his little legs, trying to find his place in the world. You face The Void at the beginning of a project Whenever I start a creative project, I feel like a mouse in a bucket of cream. Every time I move one of my little legs to try to get traction, it just keeps floating in space. But, I've found, if you keep moving fast enough and long enough, that cream turns into butter. I talked on episode 265 about how there are a lot of different sub-skills to the skill of shipping. One of those sub-skills is overcoming your fear of shipping. In other words, facing the Void. The Void is the empty space you need to fill for your project to become complete. The Void is a figurative place. It mostly lives in your mind. But it has literal representations, too, such as the blank page or the blank canvas. The Void is present at the beginning of a project, and that prevents many creators from even getting started. But the Void has other, less obvious, effects. The Void doesn't just prevent you from starting a project. It also prevents you from finishing projects. The Void holds you back from shipping There are plenty of things to fear as you're about to finish a project and ship. You fear criticism of your work. You fear later seeing something you want to fix, after it's too late. As I talked about in episode 267, you face the Finisher's Paradox: You learn throughout the project, and by the time you're done, you can already do better. But as you prepare to ship, and you see your perfectionism taking over, or you get shiny object syndrome, if you look deep within yourself, you'll probably find a fear of the Void. Even though you face the Void at the beginning of a project, your fear of the Void can hold you back in the end of a project. Being in the “butter” is comfortable The fear of the Void gets in the way of shipping for two reasons. One: being in the “butter” of a project is comfortable. When something nebulous starts to solidify, we also sometimes say it “gels.” In either case, where there was once empty space where you couldn't get traction, you're now enveloped in something solid. When you're in the final stages of a project that has gelled it's like being in a warm blanket on your couch, with a bowl of popcorn, watching Netflix. When you finish this project, you have to face the Void on the next Reason number two the Void gets in the way of shipping: When you finish the project, and start the next, you have to face the Void all over again. Deep down, you know after you let go of that first project, and start the second, you'll feel, once again, as if you're drowning. Is it perfectionism? Maybe it's the Void. So what are you to do? Simply being aware of your fear of the Void is a good start. When you catch yourself, in the final stretch, second-guessing or catastrophizing, simply remind yourself that you're trying to a-void the Void, and that will help you snap out of it. What looks like perfectionism may not be perfectionism. It may be fear of the Void. Another great way to overcome your fear of the Void is to make sure you never have to face it again. As I talked about in episode 261, we're taught shiny object syndrome is a bad thing. Working on a project, then quickly getting excited about and switching to another project, is not how traditional work gets done. But it has value in creative work. Starting projects on the side helps you a-void the Void If you get comfortable having a bunch of projects incubating on the side – and you don't beat yourself up about the fact you may finish few, if any, of them – those projects on the side serve as buffers against the Void. Once you prepare your current project for take-off, you already have another project waiting in the wings. Your excitement for your other projects can even get you more excited about finishing your current project. But every once in a while, you're still going to find yourself floating in space – or drowning in cream, if you will. When that happens, do whatever you can to keep forward momentum. Brainstorm and prototype, and be okay knowing most of what you come up with will suck. In other words, remember the little mouse, and get those legs moving. Image: After the Floods, Paul Klee About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/the-void/

When Michelangelo was painting the Sistine Chapel ceiling, he designed and built his own scaffolding. But, it only covered half of the ceiling. So he painted the first half of the ceiling, then removed the scaffolding. When he finally got to view his work from the floor, seventy feet below, it was as if he were seeing it with new eyes. After two years work, he didn't like what he saw. Michelangelo faced what I call “The Finisher's Paradox.” There's a contradiction that happens when you try to ship your creative work: By the time you're done, you can already do better. You learned in the process. Michelangelo learned on the job As I talked about in episode 262, Michelangelo “aimed left” when he started painting in the chapel. He had little experience as a painter, and even less experience in the wickedly-difficult “fresco” method. He knew the first panel he painted wouldn't be his best. So, as art historian Ross King explained on episode 99, Michelangelo started in an inconspicuous part of the chapel. It was the last place the clergy entering the chapel would see, and the last place the Pope would look when sitting on the throne. Michelangelo did have at least one false start. A few weeks into painting the first panel, he wasn't satisfied with his work. The salty sea air in Italy was staining the mixture of plaster he had chosen. There were probably also some things he wanted to change about his painting style. Once the plaster on a fresco dries, it's literally set in stone. But, like stone, you can get rid of it if you destroy it. And that's exactly what he did: Michelangelo chipped away three weeks of work and started over. If Michelangelo learned a thing or two in the first few weeks painting the Sistine Chapel, you can bet he learned even more painting the rest of the 12,000 square-foot fresco – which, in total, took him four years. Michelangelo faced the Finisher's Paradox So after Michelangelo removed his scaffolding from the first half of the ceiling, he was faced with a dilemma: There was something he didn't like about his work. Since, while painting on his scaffolding, he was very close to the work, the work looked very different from the floor. He realized the scenes he had painted were too complex. There were too many people on each panel, and, as a result, the people were too small. You couldn't make out very well, from the floor, what was going on in the paintings on the ceiling. The dilemma then was that he was two years into the work. His patron, Pope Julius II, was a nasty man, known for going on tirades and beating people who disagreed with him – perhaps even worse. He's gone down in history as “il papa terribile,” or “the terrible” Pope. He had probably even beaten Michelangelo by that point. Additionally, the project was taking a toll on Michelangelo. His back was killing him, from literally bending over backwards to paint the ceiling. So, would Michelangelo do as he did when he first started the project? Chip away all that work, put the scaffolding back up, then start over? Or, would he keep going and ship the work? Michelangelo was faced with the Finisher's Paradox. He had learned a lot throughout the project, and he had learned even more by finally seeing his work from a distance. Would he fix what was wrong with his work, or would he just ship it as it was, flaws and all? The tale of two (Sistine Chapel) ceilings Since the Sistine Chapel ceiling has lived on as one of the greatest masterpieces in art, it's surprising Michelangelo saw something wrong at all. It's even more surprising that what he saw is still there in the final product. If you look closely at the Sistine Chapel ceiling today, you'll notice something different about the two halves of the ceiling. On one side of the ceiling, the scenes are complex. There are lots of people, and the people are small. On the other side, the scenes are simpler. There are fewer people in each panel, and the people are bigger. When the first half of the ceiling was unveiled, it didn't seem to matter to others that the people in the paintings were small. Raphael was so impressed by what he saw, he went back to one of his own fresco's, The School of Athens, chipped away a spot, and in its place painted a likeness of Michelangelo. But Michelangelo, himself, made some big changes to his approach. And these changes seem to have paid off. The very first panel he painted on the second half of the ceiling is one of the most famous paintings ever. In The Creation of Adam, you see God himself, giving life to Adam, from fingertip to fingertip. Like other panels on the second half of the ceiling, there are fewer main figures – in this case, two – and, as a result, they're bigger, and easier to see from the floor. Do the best you can until you know better In the process of doing your creative work, you learn. This is especially true because nobody can teach you how to do your creative work, with the unique style and idiosyncrasies that make it yours. Yes, there will be creative waste. Much of it goes into building the underwater part of your iceberg. As you get shiny object syndrome and switch from one project to another, as you scrap iterations by throwing them into the fire, and as projects simply fail (for now), there will be delays in achieving success, as you build your foundation. But just because waste, false starts, and failures are a part of the creative process, doesn't mean you can hide away forever, toiling on a “perfect” masterpiece you will one day unveil. Shipping is a skill, and learning new skills is sometimes scary. Remember from episode 265 that one of the sub-skills of shipping is overcoming perfectionism. Perfectionism is a “humble brag” of a quality. It's far easier and more comfortable to say you're still working on your masterpiece, than it is to put it into the world and see how it's received. But as Maya Angelou once said, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.” In other words, beware the Finisher's Paradox. When you work on a creative project, you learn. Once it's time to ship, you can already do better. You can't ship your work without some small part of you saying, “this sucks.” It is better to build in enlightenment than to daydream in darkness. Image: Concert by Louis Marcoussis Thank you for having me on your podcasts! Thank you to Chris Parker at Easy Prey, and Joyce Ling at The Abundance Podcast. You can find every podcast I've been on kadavy.net/interviews. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »"     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/finishers-paradox/

On October 10th, 1901 – 120 years ago, almost to the day – the grandstand was full at the horse track in Grosse Pointe, Michigan. But not to see horses. There was a parade of more than 100 of these new things called automobiles, and several other events, including races of automobiles with electric engines and with steam engines. But the main event was a race of gasoline automobiles. By the time the event took place, it didn't look like it would be much of a race. There had originally been twenty-five contestants. Only three made it to the starting post, then just before the race, one broke down and had to withdraw. So there were just two cars, driven by the men who had built them. One was the country's most famous car manufacturer. The other, was a local. A failed car manufacturer, named Henry Ford. At the time of this race, the most famous car-maker in America was Alexander Winton. He had made and sold hundreds of cars. He had gotten tons of press driving from Cleveland to New York. At the time of this race, Henry Ford was a failed car-maker. He had made and sold a handful of automobiles, but his first car company had failed. It was clear who was going to win this race: Moments prior, Alexander Winton had set the world record for the fastest mile traveled in an automobile, going around the dirt track in a little more than a minute and twelve seconds. Winton's car was seventy horsepower. Ford's was twenty-six. He had never taken it on a turn, and it didn't have brakes. The race was supposed to be twenty-five laps, but just before the event, the organizers shortened it to ten. According to Richard Snow, author of I Invented the Modern Age: The Rise of Henry Ford, they probably didn't want to see the local loser lapped over and over. This race was more of a sprint. The Foundation Effect Has this ever happened to you? You pass by a construction site for months, and there's nothing going on. There's just a wall with a project logo, peppered with graffiti. Then one day, there's a six-story building frame there. Now, each time you pass, it's gotten taller. There was no visible progress for months, then there was rapid progress. You saw what I call “The Foundation Effect.” The Foundation Effect is the delay in your progress, as you build your foundation. You have false starts and failures, and it looks as if you're going nowhere. But once you have your foundation built, you progress rapidly. Back to the races Henry Ford, the failed carmaker, won the sprint. But it wasn't until much later he also won the marathon. Eight years after that race, Henry's Ford Motor Company released a car that changed everything. It was durable enough to make it over rough country roads, lined with horse-drawn-wagon tracks. It was versatile enough farmers could use the engine to run a wheat thresher or move hay bales down a conveyer belt. It was twice as good as any car out there, at half the price. The first year, they sold 10,000. The second year, 20,000. A few years after that, they sold almost 200,000. By the time the “Model T” went out of production nearly twenty years after introduction, the Ford Motor Company had sold nearly 15 million. More than half of all cars in the world were Fords. Meanwhile, Alexander Winton's company kept building custom cars, made-to-order. He just couldn't compete with Ford's Model T, and had to shut down. Despite having over 100 patents on automobile technology, few today have ever heard of Alexander Winton. You need a foundation How did Henry Ford create such an incredible car, that sold in such incredible quantities? He built a rock-solid foundation. Over and over, he rejected the mere illusion of progress to scrap everything and start over. As a creator, you may feel as if you're getting nowhere. You're starting projects, but not finishing them. The ones you do finish are failing. You're throwing iterations in the fire, like Radclyffe Hall. From recent episodes, you know creative waste is part of the process. You're building the underwater part of your iceberg, so some future masterpiece will be that much better. But you're also building your foundation. The foundation of a building holds it in place. Even when the building sways in the wind or shakes in an earthquake, the foundation is there to bare the stress. Architects and engineers can design a foundation using knowledge about the laws of physics. Many buildings have been built before, so there's a lot of collective experience to draw from. You, as a creator, need to build your foundation from scratch. It's what makes your work unique. As a creator, your foundation is made of the change you want your work to make, the medium through which you'll make that change, and the process you'll follow to make your product. These things take time to develop. It will look as if you're getting nowhere, but once they're in place – like a skyscraper once the foundation is laid – your progress will be rapid. How to build your foundation To build your foundation, you need to clarify your vision and master your execution, so you won't topple over. Here are some ways to do that. 1. Keep shipping This seems counterintuitive, because when a skyscraper goes up, they only build one building. They aren't putting up a few stories, scrapping it, and starting over. The reason they can build a foundation to support the skyscraper is, millions of other buildings have been built before that skyscraper. Architects and engineers can design a strong foundation because they have tons of data. You need to collect tons of data about your unique way of doing things. How do you get it done? How do people react? Does it express your unique point of view? What is that point of view? Overall, how do you make what only you can make? Henry Ford's hit car was the Model “T.” Why was it called the Model T? Because he had already built the Model S, the Model R, Q, P, O – you get the idea. He started with Model A. It took until Model T to build the foundation for stratospheric success. The way you build your foundation as a creator is to keep shipping. Remember, shipping is a skill. And each time you ship, you make your foundation stronger. 2. Don't just build. Experiment. It's funny that when most people think of Henry Ford, they think of the assembly line. A bunch of guys on a line, each doing one tiny job, such as placing a nut on a bolt, or merely turning the nut on the bolt. But for Ford to create those tasks, he first had to design the product that could be broken down into those tasks. Ford treated each car he designed and built as an experiment. He made them as good as he could, but knew they couldn't be perfect. They were going to break down, or have annoying maintenance requirements that needed to be improved. We can design buildings that don't collapse because other buildings have failed. Ford made new and better cars because his cars failed. That's how he improved the transmission, lubrication, and spark plugs. That's how he found a steel alloy that would be lightweight and strong – and countless other improvements to the design and manufacture of his cars. And that's how, even as he improved the Model T, he kept making it cheaper. When he introduced it in 1909, it was $825. Sixteen years later, inflation be dammed, it was only $260. 3. Walk away from failures (guilt-free) Henry Ford wasn't afraid to quit. Yes, he went from Model A to Model T, but that was in his third car company. He had one failed company before the race, and after he won that race, he gained enough notoriety to attract investors for a second car company. But he walked away from that company, too – only four months later. By the way, Ford went from A to T, and not all those cars were introduced to the public. Many were internal experiments that he walked away from – or, if you will, iterations thrown in the fire, like Radclyffe Hall's drafts. 4. Have a vision You can't walk away from failures for no reason. You can't learn from experiments if you don't know what you're looking for. You need a vision. You don't have a crystal-clear vision from the start. That's why you're doing all that shipping and experimenting and quitting in the first place. Why did Henry Ford walk away from the car company he started after the race? It wasn't going to help him carry out his vision. Ford had a vision to create an affordable automobile for the masses. His investors, on the other hand, wanted to build high-end cars for the wealthy. The company wasn't a foundation that was going to help Ford achieve his vision, so he stepped back, to build a foundation that would. Keep building your foundation If you're frustrated with your progress as a creator, maybe it's because you're still working on your foundation. If you're scrapping iterations and walking away from half-finished, and failed, projects, make sure it's in the pursuit of a vision. If it is, keep learning, until you get it right. Once your foundation is in place, the sky is the limit. Image: Monument by Paul Klee About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/foundation-effect/

Leonardo da Vinci is easily the most-accomplished procrastinator who ever lived. He finished hardly any projects at all. He was great at many things, but he wasn't great at shipping. The world would have been better off if Leonardo da Vinci had treated shipping as a skill. Far be it for me to criticize anything Leonardo da Vinci did. Despite his repeated failure to ship, he lives on today as one of the greatest geniuses who ever lived – enough so that I'm talking about him in a podcast 500 years after his death. What Leonardo da Vinci procrastinated on He foreshadowed the first law of motion, saying two-hundred years before Newton that, “Every movement tends to maintain itself.” He made a number of discoveries about the circulatory system: He was the first to notice the heart was the center of the blood system – not the liver. He described how an area of the aorta functioned, but since he never published his observations, it's named after a different scientist, who re-discovered this area two-hundred years later. He correctly described how blood flow affects the opening and closing of heart valves – findings that were proven correct only recently – 450 years later. He wrote or planned to write treatises on topics including painting, anatomy, human flight, geology, and astronomy. Much of what he wrote would have broken new ground in these fields, and set them ahead a couple centuries – if only he had published it. Even his greatest masterpiece, the Mona Lisa, Leonardo never finished. His patron never got their painting, and Leonardo never got paid. It was still in his studio when he died, more than fifteen years after he had begun the painting. Okay, so some of Leonardo's procrastination was iceberg-building Much of Leonardo's failure to ship was a part of his creative process. It was the creative waste that made the underwater part of his iceberg – as I talked about in the past couple episodes. There could have been practical reasons he didn't ship. Remember, once Leonardo delivered one of his paintings, it was gone forever. He couldn't snap a photo of it for safe-keeping on the cloud. One reason he clung onto mostly-finished paintings was so he could refer to them, borrowing a trick he did painting a smile from one painting, and a trick he did to make it feel like the eyes are following you around the room from another painting. But it's hard to say Leonardo couldn't have been better at shipping, when you look at all he could have contributed if only he were. And if you want to be a great creator, it makes sense to ship. Most of us would rather have our genius recognized in our lifetime, rather than marveled at hundreds of years later for what it would have contributed. Shipping is a skill Shipping is a skill. The act of having a vision, planning to achieve that vision, and executing on that vision is a skill you should cultivate, just as you would practice a programming language, writing, or macramé. Treat shipping as a skill, and you'll finish more projects. Shipped projects have a better chance of having an impact on the world. The sub-skills of shipping Shipping is a sub-skill of creative work. But the act of shipping itself has its own sub-skills. It's hard to see what you're missing out on by not treating shipping as a skill, unless you look closely at the sub-skills of shipping. Here are the sub-skills of shipping: Vision: Can you visualize the outcome you'd like to have? Planning: Can you imagine the steps you need to follow to make this vision a reality? Resourcefulness: Can you assess what resources you have that can help you achieve this vision, find what resources you don't have, and use all those resources wisely? Adaptability: Can you adapt your plan when some part, inevitably, doesn't go as planned? Overcoming Perfectionism: Your final product won't be a perfect execution of your vision. Can you overcome perfectionism and ship anyway? Fear of Shipping: Once you ship your project, there will be a void in your mind where that project once lived. Can you “let go” of the project and overcome the fear of that void? Facing Failure: Once you ship your project, you give it a chance to succeed or fail. Can you face potential criticism or failure? Reflection: How well can you reflect on the project, and process what you've learned, so you can apply it to the next project? Project-independent shipping skills Many shipping skills are project-independent. You can practice shipping, and many sub-skills of shipping, with any kind of project. Any time you have a vision, execute on that vision, and bring it into the world, you are practicing the skill of shipping. Some examples of small projects on which you can practice the skill of shipping: Cooking a recipe: Can you figure out how to get all the ingredients? Can you execute the plan? Did it turn out how you expected? What can you do differently next time? Planning a party: What kind of vibe do you want this party to have? Should it have a theme? Who should you invite? What do you need to tell them in the invitation to set the tone? What will you do differently for the next party? Planning a trip: Do you want to relax, or have an adventure? What's your budget? How much time do you have? How long will it take to get there? What do you need to pack? What should you do first and second and last to make it the trip you imagined? How I built my shipping skills When I first started on my own, I had almost no shipping skills. So, I started treating shipping as a skill. Any chance I had to have a vision, try to execute that vision, and ask myself what I could have done differently was a chance to practice the skill of shipping. The simplest way to practice shipping is trying to cook a recipe. I can tell you, it's quite hard if you're terrible at shipping. Fortunately I lived two blocks from a grocery store, because I had to make lots of trips back. Planning parties was one of the more fun ways to practice shipping. I experimented with different themes. I learned who to invite first, and who to get involved in the planning, to get people interested in coming. One of the biggest hits was the “Inexplicably Overdressed Bar Crawl.” We'd go to various dive bars wearing suits and evening gowns. It was fun to imagine what would happen if a bunch of overdressed people went to dive bars – and it was fun to see what actually did happen. I eventually worked up to planning my mini-lives, which I talked about on episode 5. If you're going to try living in the city you dream about a couple months, how do you want it to go? How do you make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? Any project is an opportunity to work on the project-independent shipping skills and sub-skills. Project-specific shipping skills On August 7, 1974, as groggy New Yorkers were on their way to work in the morning, they couldn't believe what they saw in the sky. It was a man – Philippe Petit – on a tightrope. For nearly an hour, Petit performed on a cable strung between the twin towers of the World Trade Center. Petit didn't just show up and do a performance a quarter-mile in the air. What became known as “the artistic crime of the century” took a lot of planning. Yes, Petit had project-independent shipping skills he was practicing. He had the vision to tightrope walk between the towers when he saw them in a magazine in a dentist's office in France six years prior. But, performing a tightrope-walk way up in the sky has lots of project-specific shipping skills, too. Besides the obvious challenge of balancing on a wire without falling, Petit had to figure out how to gain access to the twin towers, what materials to use to handle the wind and the weight of his body, and how to build buzz about his performance so more people would see it. So, leading up to his performance at the World Trade Center, Petit did performances on other landmarks around the world. He did a tightrope walk on the Notre Dame cathedral, in Paris, and between pylons of the Sydney Harbor Bridge, in Australia. Practice the shipping skills for your project type If you have a big vision you want to execute, take on smaller projects that will help you practice not only general shipping skills, but also skills specific to shipping that kind of project. This is why Seth Godin told me on that if I wanted to publish a successful book, I had better start cranking out “a book a week” on Kindle. I didn't publish a book a week, but I did publish – and continue to publish – “short reads.” They're great shipping practice specific to book-publishing projects. This is why I encourage people who want to self publish to upload to KDP a really short Kindle book – even if they do it under a pen name. It teaches you lots of shipping skills specific to self-publishing books. How do you format the book? How do you get a cover design? What keywords do you want to put in the back-end? What categories will your book be in? These are all questions you have to answer whether you're publishing a book that's five pages long, or five-hundred pages long. Practice shipping, and shipping will be easier Publishing a book that's five-hundred pages long will always require some skills you don't get to practice when publishing a book that's five pages long. Tightrope walking a quarter mile in the air will always require skills you don't practice when tightrope walking a hundred feet in the air. But the more skills you master before your grand performance, the easier it is to handle the new skills you're testing for your current project. Practice shipping, and shipping will get easier. Shipping is a skill. Image: Revolving House by Paul Klee About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/shipping-is-a-skill/

When Vincent van Gogh began his career as an artist, he had already failed at everything else. He even got fired from his own family's business in the process. Not seeing any alternative, he completely immersed himself in art. In one two-week period, he created 120 drawings. But exactly none of those drawings are famous today. [This is Love Your Work, and I'm David Kadavy] What feels like waste is not waste Last week, I talked about the Iceberg Principle – the idea that any masterpiece you see is just the tip of the iceberg. There's far more knowledge and experience beneath the surface, giving that masterpiece confidence and grace. But as you're adding layer after layer to your iceberg, it doesn't feel like that's what you're doing. It feels like you're wasting your energy. But you're not. After Van Gogh's frenzied first couple weeks seriously pursuing art, he settled in to a more conservative pace. Instead of 120 drawings in two weeks, he was instead shooting to make just twenty a week. He figured that's how many he'd have to make to end up with one good piece each week. “Waste” takes many forms What feels like “waste” can take many forms: Failed projects: You made something, and nobody likes it. Off on timing: Nobody like it yet, but some day someone will. Unfinished projects: You started, got a little ways, and maybe Shiny Object Syndrome took over. For whatever reason, you didn't finish. Research and Preparation: You don't always know what you're trying to learn, but all sorts of tinkering may seem like a waste. Creative waste is part of the creative game Sometimes what feels like “waste,” makes it directly into a current or future project, thus making it clearly not waste. But even the stuff that never becomes a part of your body of work is part of the creative game. I talked in episode 256 about the Barbell Strategy. To succeed in creative work, put most of your efforts toward “sure bets” that protect your downside and keep you in the game. With the rest of your time and energy, play “wildcards,” that have a chance of big upside. Creative work happens in Extremistan, not Mediocristan. Success won't be a steady climb up-and-to-the-right. Instead, it will look more like a poorly-shaved porcupine. Long periods of time where it doesn't seem like much is happening, punctuated by big spikes that level up your career one at a time. Yes, you're showing up every day and putting in the work, but all that is a series of small bets. You hope for one or two or a few to turn into positive Black Swans. Projects that take off, and take on a life of their own. In the course of playing this strategy, you can't tell what will be wasted, and what will not. You have to trust that “waste” is part of the process. Projects will fail, projects will go unfinished, and iterations will burn in the fire. That doesn't make you a procrastinator or a dilettante – that makes you a creator. Waste in Van Gogh's first masterpiece Vincent van Gogh's first masterpiece was full of waste. He did not just a sketch, but a small study, a medium study, and a print he could give out to test his idea. This was all before working on the final canvas. And that had many iterations, and four coats of varnish. He left it in his friend's studio to prevent himself from “spoiling it.” Then he still came back and worked on it some more. All that waste was on top of the years of work he did leading up to the project. The painting was about peasants, and he wandered around living like a peasant himself, begging people to model for him. And, there was the twenty drawings a week he had done. And those 120 drawings he did in a two-week period? We don't even know what they look like, because he destroyed them. Once this first masterpiece, The Potato Eaters, was done, it must have felt like a waste to Vincent. Everyone hated it. He got in a fight with his brother about it, and he completely cut off a friend who attacked it, viciously. Vincent van Gogh's first masterpiece was the result of a lot of waste. Each of those drawings was a failed project, surely many were left unfinished. He did a massive amount of research and preparation, and he was certainly off on timing. The Potato Eaters is regarded as a masterpiece today. Creative waste adds to the iceberg You already heard last week about how any masterpiece is just the tip of the iceberg. There's far more below the surface. So what new do you learn from creative waste? Sometimes, you can't see the tip of the iceberg. Sometimes it all just feels like waste. Your projects are failing, and your preparation and planning isn't getting you anywhere, causing you to leave projects unfinished. Just remember that other creators have embraced creative waste. I told you last week about how Margaret Mitchell re-wrote nearly every chapter of Gone With the Wind at least twenty times, Jerry Seinfeld says joke-writing is “ninety-five percent re-write,” Meredith Monk's charts and graphs go to waste and don't end up in the final performance, and Stephen King reminds you to “kill your darlings.” Those are all fine when you're deep in a project and you can see where it's going, but what do you do when entire projects get scrapped? Great creators embrace waste That's when you need to remind yourself of the approach Picasso took to his paintings. He did one after another. He saw them as like “pages in [his] journal.” He understood that not all his works would be successful. Even once he had a finished piece, he didn't know its true fate. “The future will chose the pages it prefers,” he said. “It's not up to me to make the choice.” Embrace creative waste. No waste, no wins. Image: Tale of Hoffmann by Paul Klee About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/creative-waste/

We can sabotage ourselves by the way we prioritize our day by not differentiating between the urgency of emails and getting distracted or manipulated by the media. Today's guest is David Kadavy. David is the author of the books Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start, Design for Hackers, and multiple short reads. David is a self-published coach and the host of the podcast Love Your Work. David has spoken in multiple countries and has been featured in The Overserver, The Huffington Post, Upworthy, and Life Hacker.  Show Notes: [1:02] - Welcome to the show, David! David explains what he does in the writing field. [2:50] - Chris admits he is a master procrastinator and tends to spend his time doing tasks that are not as important as others. [3:45] - David explains how he divides things up by mental state. [5:57] - A way to avoid emails that don't need attention right away, David uses a program called Boomerang. [7:38] - David demonstrates how open loops apply to click-bait. [8:56] - The looming possibility of urgent emails can waste energy. [10:10] - David keeps his phone on do not disturb and uses the favorites feature. [12:22] - The news and media can be a huge distraction.  [13:10] - If the media captures your attention, it is not a mistake. We are attracted to negativity. [15:47] - You don't need to know everything that is going on every single moment of every single day. But it is hard not to get sucked in. [18:10] - The immediate availability to communication creates urgency that hijacks your attention. [19:30] - The first person that should get your attention is yourself. [21:00] - As you start prioritizing different things, people may stop demanding your attention immediately. [22:23] - David lives in Columbia and the cultural values are much different there than in the United States. [25:19] - People in different countries may look at time differently as well. [28:33] - People also tend to change how they think about time. [30:03] - If there is a specific set of steps to complete a task, AI can do it. But human creativity is missing. [32:27] - David describes a typical writing day for him and how he manages his mind. [35:01] - David explains the science behind why morning grogginess is actually a prime state to be in for creativity. [38:29] - While resting, free association gets a chance to manifest. [41:15] - Arguing viewpoints on social media has become a priority for a lot of people. [44:50] - There's so much fighting for our attention. [45:55] - David shares the titles and brief description of his books linked below. [48:01] - kdv.co is shared as an opportunity to download a free writing toolkit. Thanks for joining us on Easy Prey. Be sure to subscribe to our podcast on iTunes and leave a nice review.  Links and Resources: Podcast Web Page Facebook Page whatismyipaddress.com Easy Prey on Instagram Easy Prey on Twitter Easy Prey on LinkedIn Easy Prey on YouTube Easy Prey on Pinterest David Kadavy Web Page David Kadavy on Twitter 100-Word Writing Habit Books by Author David Kadavy Love Your Work Podcast David Kadavy's Writing Tools

1920s, London. Radclyffe Hall was pacing around her study. She wore close-cropped hair, a tweed skirt, and a man's silk smoking jacket and tie. Her partner, Uma Troubridge, sat in a nearby chair, reading the writing of Radclyffe – or “John,” as she preferred to be called. But just as Uma's voice wavered a bit, John grabbed the papers from her hand, and threw them in the fire. In the 1920s, throwing writing in the fire meant it was gone forever. These weren't print-outs of digital files, safely backed up to the cloud. But Radclyffe still often threw her writing into the fire, if she didn't like the sound of what Uma was reading. Radclyffe Hall, like many great creators, understood the Iceberg Principle Any masterpiece is just the tip of the iceberg What I call the Iceberg Principle is this: What you see of any masterpiece is just the tip of the iceberg. There is far more knowledge and work beneath the surface, giving the piece confidence and grace. The Iceberg Principle is inspired by Ernest Hemingway, who said, “The dignity of movement of an ice-berg is due to only one-eighth of it being above water.” He explained further: I've seen the marlin mate and know about that. So I leave that out. I've seen a school (or pod) of more than fifty sperm whales in that same stretch of water once and harpooned one nearly sixty feet in length and lost him. So I left that out. All the stories I know from the fishing village I leave out. But the knowledge is what makes the underwater part of the iceberg. In other words, when Hemingway wrote The Old Man and the Sea, he didn't need to include every story and every detail about the life of a fisherman. He had already lived it. His experiences fishing were the underwater part of the iceberg. The stories and details he did include were only the tip of the iceberg. They were more powerful because they were held in place by everything beneath the surface. What isn't revealed gives power to what is revealed If I say, “I'm David. I grew up in Nebraska. I now live in Colombia,” I've only said three statements, but each of those statements is held in place by a massive amount of knowledge and experience. When I say, “I grew up in Nebraska,” eighteen years of open skies and snow drifts and cornfields flash in my mind. When I say, “I'm David,” more than forty years of being called David are behind that. I've never had a different name. When you read a book by Daniel Kahneman, and he tells you something about human behavior, there's a lot of authority behind everything he says. Each statement he makes is backed up by mountains of data, and decades of running experiments and seeing it with his own eyes. While he maintains the humble uncertainty of a real scientist, there's confidence and grace behind each statement. Just think of how much work, experience, and knowledge went behind Einstein writing the simple equation: e = mc². This is something Radclyffe Hall seemed to understand. It didn't matter if she threw her writing into the fire and started over. When she heard Uma's voice waver, that signaled to her that her stories or her characters weren't flowing on the page confidently. The same way snow and ice layers onto an iceberg, making it bigger over time, pushing more of it underwater over time, it took many iterations for Hall to write classics such as The Well of Loneliness – the first great novel of lesbian literature. Each time she threw writing into the fire, the paper burned, but the iceberg didn't melt – it only gained mass. Keep the Iceberg Principle in mind Why should you keep the Iceberg Principle in mind? The Iceberg Principle helps you manage expectations about your work. It also takes some of the mystery out of great masterpieces you see. The product is not the process That last part, first: When we see a masterpiece, we can't help but marvel at how it must have been made. What we see is deceiving, because we tend to mistake the product for the process. This is because the way we consume the product is very different from the process through which that product is produced. When we read a novel, we read one word after another. When we see a painting, it hits our eyes all at once. When we watch a movie, the images flash on the screen in order. But that's not how any of it is made. The novel wasn't written one word after another. The painting wasn't laid down in orderly brushstrokes. The events in the movie weren't shot, much less conceived, one after another. And no, Michelangelo did not “simply remove everything that wasn't David.” As I talked about in Mind Management, Not Time Management, an enormous amount of “Preparation” went into carving the David. So when you see a great masterpiece, and marvel at how it must have been created, know that the product is not the process. What you see is only the tip of the iceberg. Manage your expectations It might feel intimidating to know that what you see of any masterpiece is only a small amount of the work and experience it took to create it. But it can be empowering, too. Don't get frustrated when you sit down to write and it doesn't make sense. Don't lose hope when you strum a guitar and the strings rattle on the frets. Things don't come out perfectly the first time around. I've talked a little on this podcast and in The Heart to Start about the Fortress Fallacy: that we tend to have visions that outpace our current abilities. One reason we fall for the Fortress Fallacy is that when we envision building a fortress, we only think of the act of building the actual fortress. We don't think about the other seven-eighths of the work that goes into the knowledge and planning and materials sourcing of building the fortress. The iceberg takes many forms The underwater part of the iceberg can take many forms. For Hemingway, it was his life experiences, fishing. For Hall, it was the many failed iterations of her writing. The underwater part of the iceberg can be other projects you've done, other projects you never finished, or even time your ideas have spent incubating, between projects. Any of these can be the underwater part of the iceberg. They hold up the visible parts with confidence and grace. Great creators follow the Iceberg Principle We rarely get to see the underwater part of icebergs in creators' work. But if you look hard, you can find it. There are few art forms where the process is more unlike the product than movies. If you had asked me when I was a kid how movies were made, I would have guessed actors and camera operators just made something up. That's how the movies I made on our home video camera were done, after all. But in fact an incredible amount of work goes into making a movie well before camera operators are hired and actors are cast. I know now that a writer writes a screenplay first. Thanks to screenwriting instructor Robert McKee's book, Story, we can see the underwater part of the iceberg. McKee warns screenwriters that if every idea they come up with makes it into their final screenplay, they've got a problem. “If you've never thrown an idea away,” he says, “your work will almost certainly fail.” The Iceberg Principle is why Stephen King tells writers, “Kill your darlings.” (Don't dare try to keep your whole iceberg above water. Even your favorite parts.) It's why when Meredith Monk is composing an interdisciplinary performance, she draws charts and graphs about how the various elements – music and dance and space on the stage – will interact with one another. None of those sketches make it to the final performance, but that work is there to add grace to the piece. It's why Jerry Seinfeld has described the joke-writing process as an experiment that gathers data. In other words, you don't just get up on stage and tell a great joke. You have to go from writing desk to stage and back again many times. He said of his joke-writing process, “It's ninety-five percent re-write.” It's why, when Margaret Mitchell was writing Gone With the Wind, she re-wrote nearly every chapter at least twenty times. Start building your iceberg When we see masterpieces we admire, and try to replicate that work, we're bound to fail. What we create is so far from our vision, it seems pointless to even try. But thanks to the Iceberg Principle, you now know that what you see of any masterpiece is just the tip of the iceberg. To build your masterpiece, start building your iceberg. The more you add to the underwater part of your iceberg, the more solid and beautiful your masterpiece will be. Image: Crystal Gradation by Paul Klee Thank you for having me on your podcasts! Thank you for having me on your podcast! Thank you to Kjell Vandevyvere of Coffee and Pens. As always, you can find all podcast interviews of me at kadavy.net/interviews. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/iceberg-principle/

It's 1997, and Tiger Woods is in a sudden death playoff, against Tom Lehman. Lehman shoots first, on a par three, and hits his ball into the water. Now Tiger's up, and this is Tiger's tournament to lose. All he has to do is hit a safe shot, far away from the hole, and far away from the water. But that's not what he does. An aggressive and dangerous play The hole is way on the left side of the green, near the water. There's water short, and there's water left – where Tom Lehman's shot went. The smart play is just hit the ball onto the green, way right of the hole, so there's no chance it goes in the water. Then Tiger can putt twice, for par, and win the tournament. Tiger hits his shot, watches with anticipation as it flies through the air – and almost goes directly into the hole. It's eight inches away. He just won the tournament. The crowd goes wild, meanwhile, the announcers are trying to figure out why Tiger would make a play like that. Why shoot directly at the hole, when there's water all around? If he had made the slightest error, Tiger would have tied Lehman, and extended the playoff to the next hole. The announcers say, Well he's 21 years old. He's aggressive. Some of you are no doubt thinking, Why would he make a play like that? Because he's Tiger Woods, that's why. Perfection comes from imperfection I recently showed my partner a career highlights video of Tiger Woods. She had never heard of him, and had never seen golf (remember, she's Colombian). By the end of the video, she was convinced Tiger Woods was a witch, who could magically conjure a ball into a hole from 200 yards away. Because that's what she saw. Over and over, this guy swinging, then a tiny ball flying through the air for several seconds, and jumping and spinning and rolling into a tiny hole. When we see an expert in any field, we marvel at what they're able to accomplish. When we compare our own skills, we can't help but feel insignificant. But sometimes, what seems like perfection is someone not striving for perfection, but instead working cleverly with their imperfections. Several years after this playoff, where Tiger Woods made this bold play. He re-lived it in his book. He explained that he was very much aware all he had to do was hit the green – to play safely away from the water. In fact, that's exactly what he did. When you're missing right, aim left Yes, Tiger's ball almost went in the hole, but that's not where he was aiming. Besides knowing the smart strategy in this playoff situation, Tiger had noticed something during his warm-up before the playoff: His shots tended to go left. Like Tom Lehman, Tiger had pulled his ball to the left, but because Tiger was aiming to the right, he almost had a hole-in-one. This is hard to process for many who don't play golf – indeed many who do play golf. How can the greatest golfer who ever lived be missing to the left? And why would the greatest golfer who ever lived aim away from the hole? When we see greatness, this is often what's happening. Tiger was missing to the left, so he aimed right. I call it “aim left,” because it's just less confusing than “aim right.” Aiming left is simply accepting you're not perfect, and shooting your shot according to your tendencies. You can use this in your creative work, in your habits, and yes – in golf. When you're missing to the right, aim left. Michelangelo aimed left When Michelangelo was hired to paint the Sistine Chapel ceiling, he faced an impossible task. As if it weren't hard enough to paint 12,000 square feet of ceiling, Michelangelo wasn't a painter! He was a sculptor. He had hardly painted anything to that point. Add to that, this was fresco – which is incredibly unforgiving. You get a patch of wet plaster to paint on each day, and once it's dry, it's literally set in stone. So what did Michelangelo do? As Ross King – who I talked to on episode 99 explained, Michelangelo aimed left. He started with an inconspicuous part of the ceiling – one of the last places someone would look when entering the chapel – and one of the last places the pope would look while sitting on his throne. By starting with an inconspicuous part of the ceiling, Michelangelo was free to let his fresco-painting skills develop throughout the project. By the end of the project, he wasn't even transferring drawings to the ceiling, and was instead painting directly onto the plaster. Other greats aimed left Accomplished creators are always aiming left. They're always compensating for the weaknesses they know they have. Ernest Hemingway knew starting a writing session was always the hardest part. So, he aimed left. He made sure to end writing sessions knowing what he was going to write next. That way when he returned to his writing the next day, he'd have no trouble writing his first few words. Kingsley Amis did this, and Todd Henry, who I talked to on episode 109 has said he stops in the middle of a sentence. Edna Ferber built her dream house, complete with a writing study that had a beautiful view. After all that trouble, she decided that view was too distracting. So, she aimed left. She pushed her desk against the only blank wall in her study, so the view couldn't distract her. Somerset Maugham also faced a blank wall, and I did it a while myself. Benjamin Franklin wanted to improve his character, but couldn't focus on everything he wanted to work on at once. So, he aimed left. He kept a schedule of his “thirteen virtues.” Each week, he tried to improve at only one of those virtues – things like cleanliness, frugality, and humility. By focusing on only one virtue at a time – and forgetting the rest – Franklin improved his character in all thirteen virtues. Ways of aiming left To aim left, take anything where you consistently miss, and compensate for that miss. In The Heart to Start, I talked about “The Fortress Fallacy.” We tend to have visions that outsize our current skill level. Over and over, we start ambitious projects, but fail to follow through once we realize how daunting they are. To aim left, go ahead and dream of the fortress, but first, build a cottage – a smaller project that builds the same skills you'll use in the larger project. I also talked about “Motivational Judo,” which is a form of aiming left. If you struggle to get motivated, create conditions that use your own action-avoidance tactics against themselves. Pavlok founder Maneesh Sethi built a wristband to shock himself. Sociologist Harriet Martineau knew she only needed to suffer through the first fifteen minutes of writing, and she'd have the momentum to keep going. This is similar to the Ten-Minute Hack I also talked about in The Heart to Start. In the previous episode, I talked about a way to cure Shiny Object Syndrome by aiming left. If you know you jump from unfinished project to unfinished project, treat shipping as a skill. Turn everyday things like meals and day-trips into “projects.” Make plans and execute – ship the projects. Many opportunities to aim left Look around, and you'll find many opportunities to aim left. Anywhere you aren't achieving what you want, you can find a way to direct your imperfection toward perfection. Or, at least, near-perfection – eight inches away, to be exact. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/aim-left/

Shiny Object Syndrome is an affliction that causes you to be attracted to “shiny objects.” Shiny objects can be whatever is new and trendy in your field. But oftentimes, the shiny objects are simply new ideas you have – other projects you'd rather be working on. In this form, Shiny Object Syndrome will ruin any chance you have of finishing your current project – unless you do something about it. Two sources of Shiny Object Syndrome How do you overcome Shiny Object Syndrome? What you need to do is simple: Commit to your current project, ignore the new projects, suck it up, and follow-through. The reality isn't so simple. Shiny Object Syndrome causes mental distortions that will have you 100% convinced you're doing the right thing: This old project is a dud. This new project is sure to be a success. To cure Shiny Object Syndrome, we need to know its true sources. That way, we can nip them in the bud, keep Shiny Object Syndrome at bay, and finish projects. There are two main causes of Shiny Object Syndrome: Naïveté of the novel Frustration with the existing We don't know much about the new project, so we view it with rose-colored glasses. We know a little too much about our current project, so it looks terrible in comparison. This creates a “grass is greener” effect. Now how do we get in this position in the first place? 1. Naïveté of the novel As humans, we're naturally attracted to the novel. That's how we've become such an innovative species. We were not satisfied with the old way of doing things – eating our meat raw and sleeping in the elements – so we're curious about our neighbor who's cooking with fire and has built a straw hut. That explains why we're attracted to the “shiny objects” in the first place, but there's more happening in our minds that makes us not only attracted to the shiny object, but that makes us abandon what we have to pursue the unknown. The Dunning-Kruger effect A powerful force that makes us hop from one shiny object to another is the Dunning-Kruger effect. The Dunning-Kruger effect is named after it's originators, psychologists David Dunning and Justin Kruger, who found that when we know a good deal about a field, we underestimate our knowledge, but when we little about a field, we overestimate our knowledge. The Dunning-Kruger effect is a favorite of internet “gotcha” culture. People love to point out the Dunning-Kruger effect at work in others, but it does a lot of good to recognize it in ourselves. When we get a great idea for a new project in a field we know little about, we often think that project will be easier than it actually will be. It seems like a good idea to drop what we're doing, and move on. 2. Frustration with the existing This naïveté of the novel colludes with frustration with the existing. In fact, it adds fuel to that frustration. If we start a new project, thinking it's going to be easy, we're even more disillusioned when we realize it's actually hard. We've run up against all the challenges we didn't think about. We've seen the hidden complexity in the current project. As former guest, Tynan has pointed out, when we're in the middle of a project, we've experienced all of the downsides, but none of the upsides, such as revenue or respect from our peers. Meanwhile, we know very little about the new project. It seems fun and easy. When we started the current project, we said to ourselves, This will be easy. We've realized it's not so easy, but the Dunning-Kruger effect takes over again. We tell ourselves of the new project, Now THIS will be easy! Just knowing how the naïveté of the novel and frustration with the existing work together to cause Shiny Object Syndrome isn't enough to cure it. When you're in this situation, it seems rational. You can come up with good-sounding reasons why the current project isn't worth the trouble and the new project has a better chance of succeeding. And we won't admit we might be fooling ourselves. Shipping is a skill I have some good news: Your tendency to come up with new ideas is a good thing. Instead of trying to fight it, Shiny Object Syndrome is much easier to manage if you instead accept it. Accept it will tempt you to switch projects, then change the way you approach projects accordingly. Remind yourself that shipping is a skill. The mere act of finishing a project, no matter how small, is a skill you should cultivate. If you've never picked up a golf club, you would know better than to expect to play like Tiger Woods your first time out. So if you've never finished a project, why would you think you could take on a giant one the first time around? When I started on my own, I had almost zero shipping skills. I had piles of unfinished projects, and nothing to show for them. Fortunately one day, as I contemplated a giant shiny object I was about to take on, I realized I didn't have what it took to make my vision a reality. I had had enough of my Shiny Object Syndrome, and was ready to put it to an end. So, I treated even the smallest things as practice in the skill of shipping. I looked up a recipe online, and planned my trip to the grocery store to get the ingredients. It sounds simple, but can you believe I had to go back several times? I planned parties and dates and trips. I treated everything as an opportunity to have a vision, plan how to execute that vision, and ship the project. The Fortress Fallacy In The Heart to Start, I introduced The Fortress Fallacy. We tend to have big visions, but those visions outpace our skills. We dream of building a fortress, when we haven't built a cottage, much less a lean-to. This isn't about “breaking your project down” into parts. This is about doing small projects that build skills you can later use in a larger project. Breaking your project down doesn't build the skill of shipping. Doing small projects does. Make predictions A source of fuel for our frustration with the existing is our lack of foresight. We fall for the planning fallacy. The planning fallacy is why the Sydney Opera House took ten extra years and fifteen times the budget – you can see the same in countless construction projects. It's why the Greeks thought the Trojan War would take four weeks, when it ended up taking ten years – you can see the same in countless military campaigns. It's demoralizing to expect something to work out one way, and have it end up another. One way to fix that would be to have things work out the way we expect – but that's not going to happen. The world is too complex and unpredictable. The solution is to make predictions. How do you predict the unpredictable? You don't, really. But there's a lot of wiggle room between This will definitely happen, and This will definitely not happen. In episode 245, I introduced the Avocado Challenge. Before you open an avocado, are you 100% sure it's going to be perfectly ripe? No. In the Avocado Challenge, you make percentage-confidence predictions, such as “I'm 60% confident this avocado is ripe.” You then rate those predictions based upon the outcome. As you start projects, make predictions. Accept that you're never 100% sure about anything, so make percentage-confidence predictions. For example, “I am 70% confident I will set up my blog and publish my first post by next Sunday.” After Sunday comes, review your prediction. You can even use a handy free service called Prediction Book to keep track. This does a couple things. One: It holds you accountable. We tend to approach all projects as if we're sure we're going to finish them – and that just ain't so. Two: It keeps you from beating yourself up. You can't be certain about the future, but when we don't finish projects, we feel bad about it. If we feel bad, we learn to associate working on projects with feeling bad. So we'll start fewer projects. As Roam Research founder Conor White-Sullivan said, "I can not speak highly enough for the practice of starting things before you know you're going to finish them." Don't fight shiny object syndrome, work with it In conclusion, the way to cure Shiny Object Syndrome isn't so much to cure it – it's to accept that you're going to have new ideas, and you're going to fail to finish some projects. I Sign up for Love Mondays and see for yourself! There you have it. This system really helps me save creative energy, so that I'm using it to think of good ideas, instead of trying to fumble around with all the things I want to put in my newsletter. Obviously, all this could be automated even further. I'm actually surprised I haven't seen an email marketing platform that already has Airtable-like database elements for managing all the tidbits one shares in their newsletter. Maybe something for someone to build. If you want to see all this in action, be sure to sign up for Love Mondays. My readers really love them, I consistently get replies saying how much each week's idea has shifted someone's perspective. Thank you for having me on your podcasts! Thank you for having me on your podcast! Thank you to Dolores at Attitudeable for having me on the show. As always, you can find all podcast interviews of me at kadavy.net/interviews. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/shiny-object-syndrome/

I recently read  Mind Management, Not Time Management by  David Kadvy.It made a big impact on me because David has thought a lot about popular productivity methods like Getting Things Done and considered how they can apply to writers and creatives. He breaks down how creatives can organize their day so they're at their best when it's time to write or work on a project and how they can also find time for all the administrative stuff that could come with running a writing business. I was interested to know more about his writing process. He also has a very specific early morning writing routine he describes in this week's interview. I started by asking David about the key ideas in his book and how he came to write it in the first place. In this episode, we discuss:Getting your mind ready to writeReview what you're going to write the next dayDavid's morning routineUsing The Zettelkasten MethodHow many hours a day David spends in a creative state Deciding how many books to write each yearResources:David's Amazon storeDavid KadvyThe Zettelkasten MethodThe Zettelkasten Method Means You'll Never Run Out of Ideas Again with Sascha FastSupport the show (https://www.patreon.com/becomeawritertoday)

If you want to grow an audience online, it's great to have a consistent newsletter. It keeps you in touch with your subscribers, and it gives you a place to test out small ideas you can later grow into big ideas. I've been delivering my Love Mondays newsletter every week for more than 100 weeks (and you can sign up here). Here's how I streamline and automate the process, so I never miss a week. Small bites of information Newsletters work great as small bites of information. Your subscribers get your newsletter right in their inboxes, so they're in a hurry. If they know they can get a quick hit or two from your newsletter, they won't put off opening it. You can see this with newsletters such as Tim Ferriss's Five Bullet Friday, or James Clear's 3-2-1 Thursday. The fact that these newsletters are full of quick hits is right there in the titles. Keeping the bites organized I design Love Mondays to have a few tiny bites of interesting things, as well as a light main dish. Each Love Mondays newsletter has a quick thought – maybe 150–300 words, about navigating the Extremistan world of making it as a creator. Plus, I have what I call “ABCs” – Aphorisms (or Quotes), Books, and Cool tools. Additionally, I may make a short announcement in the postscript. Each newsletter has the main quick thought, two ABCs, and sometimes there's a P.S., sometimes there's even an P.P.S. That's a lot of different things to think up each week, so I've designed my system so I don't have to do it all at once. Using a spreadsheet I built from a service called Airtable, I'm able to organize the ideas I'd like to share in Love Mondays, as well as Aphorisms, Books, Cool tools, and other announcements. I combine them to create each week's newsletter. My system keeps me from switching mental states trying to think up each item. The spreadsheet also allows me to track the performance of things like subject lines and clicks on items I share, so I can keep making my newsletter better. Collecting ideas Each newsletter idea starts as an even smaller idea. There's a sheet in my database that's full of some of my best-performing tweets. Using Zapier, I have an automation set up so that anytime I “like” one of my own tweets, it gets saved to this sheet in Airtable. It saves the body of the tweet, the number of favorites it has, a link to the tweet, and the date of the tweet. I “batch” my Love Mondays newsletters on a monthly basis, using the “creative system” I talked about in my book, Mind Management, Not Time Management. To begin a batch of newsletters, I start looking for ideas in this sheet of high-performing tweets. I sort them by date, then make sure the number of likes is updated on all the newest tweets. Then, I sort them by number of likes. I don't always grow the most popular tweets into newsletter ideas, but seeing the number of likes does help me get a feel for what ideas resonate with my readers better than others. Collecting Aphorisms, Books, and Cool tools I also have individual sheets in my database for Aphorisms, Books, and Cool tools. My Aphorism sheet also gets populated with a Zapier zap. If I like one of my own tweets, and it has an em dash in it (“—“), that filters the tweet into the quotes sheet, instead of my sheet of ideas. Again, I can sort quotes I've shared according to how many likes they got, to get a better feel for which ones my readers will enjoy. Other than that, I manage the sheets for Books and Cool tools manually. Reviewing the data Each week, I enter the stats from the previous week's Love Mondays newsletter. I plug in the number of subscribers it was sent to, and how many opened, to get the open rate. For Books and Cool tools, I enter how many clicks the links got, so I can see each item's click through rate. As I consider new Books and Cool tools to share, I check the performance of the past Books and Cool tools I've shared, to get an idea of what people will like. The data has been really surprising sometimes, as things I thought people would love got little interest, and things that didn't seem like a big deal got a lot. Again, the numbers aren't the only thing that decides what I share. I share a lot of things I just like, even if I don't think the highest percentage of readers will be into it. Identifying finalists I keep a big backlog on all these sheets, so I never feel pressure to think up new ideas, or new ABCs to share. I just capture things as they come. But as each new month approaches, I comb through these sheets to identify finalists I'd like to share. I just change a field in each record in Airtable, so my top candidates for tweet ideas and ABCs are at the top of each sheet, where I can later narrow them down further. Writing the drafts Once I've collected some of my favorite ideas, I write the idea section of the emails. I usually get the month's emails – four or five, depending – written in two sessions. In the first session, I write really awkward drafts. In the second session, I re-write those, and they usually come out much less awkward. I space the two sessions a week apart, so my subconscious does most of the work for me. Every once in a while, I just have a good first session and don't have to re-write – just edit a little. I do this writing in Ulysses, one newsletter after another, in one document. Before the first session, I set up the document with a simple list of dates, the body text of the tweet that serves as inspiration, and whatever other things I might want to announce in that week's newsletter. I consult the schedule of my podcast, so I can share any recent episodes, I check my other spreadsheet of podcasts that have interviewed me to make sure I've thanked them, and I check my calendar to see if there are any promotions I want to announce. Wrapping it all together Now here comes the cool part. Airtable helps me wrap my main newsletter body together with my ABCs, my announcements, and my greeting and salutation. The result is a field with all the Markdown text for the newsletter. To do this, I copy and paste the Markdown text of the main idea of the newsletter into a field. From other fields, I can select the Aphorism and/or Book and/or Cool thing I want to include in that week's newsletter. Each record for Books or Cool things already has fields for my comments and the links for the items. Once I select any ABCs, all this is added to the main body, in Markdown text. Each newsletter also has a P.S. and P.P.S. field, and if they're populated with anything, they get added onto that text, too. Scheduling Now all I have to do is copy and paste the Markdown into a translator. I then copy and paste the rich text into my email marketing platform, ActiveCampaign. Once I have the main content of all the month's newsletters written, it takes about fifteen minutes to integrate the ABCs, the announcements, and to have the newsletters scheduled and ready to go. Sign up for Love Mondays and see for yourself! There you have it. This system really helps me save creative energy, so that I'm using it to think of good ideas, instead of trying to fumble around with all the things I want to put in my newsletter. Obviously, all this could be automated even further. I'm actually surprised I haven't seen an email marketing platform that already has Airtable-like database elements for managing all the tidbits one shares in their newsletter. Maybe something for someone to build. If you want to see all this in action, be sure to sign up for Love Mondays. My readers really love them, I consistently get replies saying how much each week's idea has shifted someone's perspective. New Book: Digital Zettelkasten: Principles, Methods & Examples Learn how to think through building a database of the most interesting things you've ever read, or thought. Available direct from me, on Amazon, and everywhere else. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/email-newsletter-process/

TL;DR: Mind Management, Not Time Management is only $1.99 today. Buy it on Amazon Kindle or Apple Books. This is the moment we've been waiting for. If you've been reading my income reports, you know I've been planning to one day offer my latest book, Mind Management, Not Time Management, for only $1.99. BookBub has finally selected MMT for their exclusive Featured Deal, and will be sending it to a million people tomorrow. Nine months after releasing the book, this is the real "launch." It has a shot at hitting the Wall Street Journal best-seller list. It's a great deal, so buy the book on Amazon.com or anywhere else. If you'd also like to help me shoot my shot at the WSJ list, here's how you can help: Buy on Apple Books U.S., as sales on this channel will really help. Buy it for a friend. Share the deal with your followers. Thanks so much, and I hope you enjoy the book.

You hear a lot about morning routines, but nighttime routines are every bit as important. Your parents probably had a bedtime routine for you, and if you have kids you probably have bedtime routines for them. But we need bedtime routines as adults, too. I follow a specific nighttime routine, and it helps me get to sleep faster, and wake up better-rested. Wind down, and don't try to force sleep My nighttime routine follows two overarching principles: Wind down Don't try to force sleep 1. Wind down: Before I started my nighttime routine, I didn't think about what I was doing before bed. I just went to bed when I was tired. I was treating all hours of the day as equal – following time management instead of mind management. Once I started my nighttime routine, I realized “going to bed” starts well before you're tired. It's like the difference between crashing a plane and a smooth landing. 2. Don't try to force sleep: I recently did a sleep study at a lab, and started doing my nighttime routine. But the study was supposed to start before my usual bedtime, and the nurses at the lab wouldn't let me follow my routine. I didn't sleep the whole night and the study was a waste. The problem for me was trying to force sleep. I had insomnia as a kid and trying to get to sleep always made me more anxious and less able to sleep. So now I'm careful not to force sleep. Two phases: wind-down and sleep-time In the spirit of not trying to force sleep, my nighttime routine follows two phases: wind-down and sleep-time. Wind-down phase: During the wind-down phase, I want to signal to my body that it can get ready for sleep. Again, I'm not trying to force sleep, just giving my body permission to get sleepy. I'll get more into how I do that in a bit. Sleep-time phase: In the sleep-time phase, I'm again careful to not force sleep. But I have specific steps I follow that help me transition from the wind-down phase to actually getting to sleep. Five rules for my nighttime routine Your parents probably had bedtime rules for you. In your bedtime routine as an adult, you need rules for yourself. Here are five rules I follow: No social media after 9 p.m. No bright screens after 10 p.m. Blue-blocking glasses after 10 p.m. Reading only after 10 p.m. In bed by midnight. Here's some more detail about each of those: 1. No social media after 9 p.m. I have a theory that associating with anyone you're not close to before bedtime disrupts your sleep quality. The only proof I have of this is I've experienced it myself. Though it would make sense from an evolutionary perspective: You and the tribe might find it hard to sleep if strangers from another tribe were lurking around your campfire. I don't want to think about a news story in the world at-large, witness a petty argument amongst strangers, or read a hostile Twitter reply too close to bedtime. I sense that it sets my brain on alarm, making it hard to sleep. Twitter is my social media of choice, and it's valuable enough to outweigh the above negatives, generally, but not after 9 p.m. When I say no social media, that doesn't mean that I won't chat with a close friend on WhatsApp or Messenger. I would guess associating with people you're close to before bedtime makes it easier to get to sleep, if anything. I often make a FaceTime call to my father after 9 p.m., but no Twitter. 2. No bright screens after 10 p.m. By now it's well-established that blue light exposure late at night disrupts sleep and is even associated with higher cancer risk. Yes, our devices have nighttime modes that reduce this light, but I don't trust that to eliminate blue light completely. So I avoid bright screens, wholesale, after 10 p.m. I stow my phone and tablet in a charging station in my living room, and ignore them until the next morning. This also makes it easier to follow my rule of no social media. The brightest thing I look at after 10 p.m. is my Kindle. It's not great to be on an electronic device, but I set it in dark mode, so it's actually less light exposure than I would get reading a paper book under lamplight. As part of this rule, I also switch off my internet and WiFi at 10 p.m. This is a good way to keep yourself off the internet, but it also may be better for your health. Studies have shown that EMF exposure before bed alters your brain activity during sleep. Scientists haven't found any ill health effects from this (yet), but why not turn off your WiFi? We didn't evolve to have our brain activity altered while we sleep, and you're not using it anyway. 3. Blue-blocking glasses after 10 p.m. Even if the nighttime modes on my devices did eliminate all blue light, there's still blue light in the lights in my house, or from street lights outside. So, I nip that in the bud with blue-blocking glasses. The blue-blocking glasses I wear are not fashionable. They are orange, and large enough to wrap around most of my face, as well as cover my glasses. Very little blue light gets past these, and I get sleepy easier and wake up more refreshed when I wear these glasses, starting two hours before my target bedtime. I even take them with me when I travel, and they help out when I need to push my bedtime earlier to get up for early flights. 4. Reading only after 10 p.m. Back when I didn't pay attention to what I was doing before bedtime, I would often work until I could hardly keep my eyes open. I've since tried different activities before sleep, and found that nothing works better to get me sleepy than reading. So, the only activity I allow myself to do after 10 p.m. is read. This means there are a lot of activities I avoid before bed. Aside from bright screens, I've found that certain activities get my brain too active, and make it hard for me to fall asleep. If I play a video game on my VR headset, write in my journal, or even do something creative such as drawing, it's not as easy for me to get to sleep, and I wake up less-rested. I also select the type of reading I do in a specific way that helps me get sleepy. For the first hour, I can read pretty much whatever I want. This hour helps me get through a lot of science, history, or biography books, the highlights of which I store in the digital Zettelkasten I talked about on episode 250. I use much of this reading as raw material for ideas for newsletters, articles, and books. As I'm reading, I'm looking out for specific signals help to me decide when I'm ready for bed. The first thing I'm looking out for is how well I understand what I'm reading. About this time of night, I can lose my reading comprehension very rapidly. One minute I'm engrossed in a complex neuroscience book, the next minute I realize I've read the same sentence several times over. This happens before I'm consciously aware that I'm tired, but it signals to me it's time to change my reading material. When that happens, I switch from non-fiction to fiction. If 11 p.m. rolls around and I'm still comprehending non-fiction well, I make the switch anyway. Now I'm looking for the final signals that I'm ready for bed. At some point, I will realize I've just “come to.” I will have just started to doze off – my eyelids have gotten so heavy they've started to close, and I may have even lost control over the arm that holds up my Kindle. I'm not the type to fall asleep accidentally, but as soon as one of these things happens, I close my Kindle and go to bed. If by 11:30 p.m. my eyelids haven't started closing involuntarily, I bring out the big guns. This is the reading that's most likely to make me sleepy. I read some poetry by Robert Frost, or a play by Shakespeare. If I really want to go back in time, I'll pull out The Iliad. Sometimes I'll read some Emerson. The Robert Frost poetry is folksy and he and Emerson talk a lot about nature, which is very relaxing. The rhythms of Frost and Shakespeare lull me to sleep. And The Iliad is just hard to read. 5. In bed by midnight By following this progression of reading, I almost always get sleepy by midnight. My rule is “in bed by midnight,” but really if I don't get sleepy by then, I find it does me no good to go to bed anyway. So I try to be in bed by midnight, but if I'm not sleepy, I'll just keep reading the big guns. I have found that having a set bedtime helps me get to sleep more easily, and wake up more rested. There's not a big difference between whether I go to bed at 10:30 p.m. or midnight, but once it gets past midnight, there's suddenly a big difference. If I can't get to bed until 12:15 a.m. one night, I'll feel it the next day, and will take a couple nights more before I can get my sleep back on schedule. By the way, I make sure to have already brushed my teeth by the time I'm going to bed. I do that at some point during the wind-down phase. I hate the feeling of being sleepy and still needing to brush my teeth, so I try to do it before. And this helps prevent any late-night snacking. Going to bed: the sleep-time phase Once I'm in bed, I'm still following the principle of not trying to force sleep. I take off my glasses, but leave on the orange goggles. I get a couple of other valuable sleep tools ready: I position my sleep mask on my forehead for quick deployment, and I put in earplugs. Now, I lay on my back stare off into space, and let my thoughts flow. I do not close my eyes and try to go to sleep until I feel my eyelids get heavy again. You might wonder: My eyelids were just heavy, now I've gone to bed and am waiting again for my eyelids to get heavy. Why didn't I just read in bed? I'm a big advocate of the philosophy that you should only do two things in bed, one of them should be sleeping, and the other should not be reading. If you do other activities such as reading or surfing the web in bed, you're just programming yourself to not be sleepy when in bed. So, I make the small compromise of having to get myself to bed once sleepy, then needing to again wait to get sleepy. It usually only takes a minute or two before my eyelids are falling closed. At that point, I take off the orange goggles, lower my sleep mask, and fall asleep. There's my nighttime routine There's my nighttime routine. After that, I sleep until I wake up. I don't use an alarm. I try to stay in bed until at least 8 a.m., even if I do wake up earlier. (I find if I'm patient, I do fall asleep again.) I hope this gives you some ideas for your own nighttime routine. Pay attention to what activities do or don't help you get to sleep, wind down gradually, and keep a regular bedtime. You may, like me, get to sleep easier and wake up better-rested.   New Book: Digital Zettelkasten: Principles, Methods & Examples Learn how to think through building a database of the most interesting things you've ever read, or thought. Available direct from me, on Amazon, and everywhere else. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email Support the show on Patreon Put your money where your mind is. Patreon lets you support independent creators like me. Support now on Patreon »     Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/nighttime-routine/