Notes from ‘The Practice’- Set 3

A few months back I read a book titled ‘The Practice’ by Seth Godin. I loved it a lot and made some notes from it. They are some profound lines from the book which spoke to me. The first and second set of these lines are here and here.

Here is the third set:

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Any idea withheld is an idea taken away. It’s selfish to hold back when there’s a chance you have something to offer.

Worrying is the quest for a guarantee, all so we can find the confidence to press on. It’s an endless search for a promise: the outcome will be worth the effort we put into the process.

The time we spend worrying is actually time we’re spending trying to control something that is out of our control. Time invested in something that is within our control is called work. That’s where our most productive focus lies.

Instead of seeking reassurance and buttressing it with worry, we could make the choice to go back to work instead.

The source is simple: It’s the self. It’s us when we get out of our way.

The practice is choice plus skill plus attitude. We can learn it and we can do it again. We don’t ship the work because we’re creative. We’re creative because we ship the work.

Talent is something we’re born with: it’s in our DNA, a magical alignment of gifts. But skill? Skill is earned. It’s learned and practiced and hard-won.

The practice simply asks you to do it more than once, to do it often enough that it becomes your practice.

It’s possible (and admirable, and even heroic) to be an amateur. The amateur serves only herself. If there are bystanders, that’s fine, but as an amateur your work is only for you. A privilege, a chance to find joy in creation. And you may choose to make the leap to be a professional, to have a practice. To show up when the muse isn’t there, to show up if you don’t feel like it. This manifesto is for you. But please, avoid the path of becoming a hack. Sure, work can be better than no work, but the posture of giving up your standards to get that work can quickly become toxic.

A professional is not simply a happy amateur who got paid.

Ship creative work. On a schedule. Without attachment and without reassurance.

The person who has paid for your scarce time and scarce output is more likely to value it, to share it, and to take it seriously.

What change do you seek to make? Why bother to speak up or take an action if you’re not seeking to change someone or something?

Who are you trying to change? What change are you trying to make? How will you know if it worked?

If it’s worth doing, it’s worth establishing why we’re doing it.

We’re not simply doing this work for ourselves. We’re doing it to help someone else, to make a change happen. That’s why the “who” is so important.

We seek to create a change for the people we serve. The most effective way to do that is to do it on purpose.

It’s worth noting that this isn’t a moral choice, it’s simply a practical one. If you’re committing to the process, you’ll need to choose. Choose who it’s for and what it’s for. And the more different the person you serve is from you, the more empathy you’ll need to create the change you seek to make.

First, find ten. Ten people who care enough about your work to enroll in the journey and then to bring others along.

What do they believe? What do they want? Who do they trust? What’s their narrative? What will they tell their friends? The more concise and focused you are at this stage, the more likely it is that you’re actually ready to make change happen.

The trap is in the generic. In the cloudy persona, the undetermined person, the vague generality.

People who like things like this will love what I’m doing.

Once we know who it’s for, it’s easier to accept that we have the ability and responsibility to bring positive change to that person. Not to all people, not to create something that is beyond criticism, but for this person, this set of beliefs, this tribe.

The process of intentional action requires us to set aside what we need so that we can focus on what the work needs.

There’s a tension, the gap between what the work wants and what the person paying for it wants. Dancing in that gap is the work of creating our art.

The process of shipping creative work demands that we truly hear and see the dreams and desires of those we seek to serve.

To cause change to happen, we have to stop making things for ourselves and trust the process that enables us to make things for other people.

On one hand, we have to ignore the outcome, the box office numbers, and the famous critics, because if we obsess about them, we will break our process, lose our momentum and eventually be sapped of our will to be creative. On the other hand, there actually is a difference between good work and not-good work. There’s a point to our effort, and the change we seek to make involves empathy for others, not just the solipsism of doing whatever we feel like. That paradox is at the heart of our practice: we must dance with it, not pretend it doesn’t exist.

We can return again and again to this simple narrative: This is a practice. It has a purpose. I desire to create change. The change is for someone specific. How can I do it better? Can I persist long enough to do it again? Repeat.

There is nothing authentic about the next thing you’re going to say or do or write. It’s simply a calculated effort to engage with someone else, to contribute, or to cause a result.

Your audience doesn’t want your authentic voice. They want your consistent voice.

Not sameness. Not repetition. Simply work that rhymes. That sounds like you. We make a promise and we keep it.

What we seek out is someone who sees us and consistently keeps their promises to bring us the magic we were hoping for. Someone who has committed to rhyming with what they did yesterday.

We can only deliver what our audience needs by being consistent, by creating our inauthentic, intentional, crafted art in a way that delivers an authentic experience to our audiences as they consume it.

Determine who it’s for. Learn what they believe, what they fear, and what they want. Be prepared to describe the change you seek to make. At least to yourself. Care enough to commit to making that change. Ship work that resonates with the people it’s for. Once you know whom it’s for and what it’s for, watch and learn to determine whether your intervention succeeded. Repeat.

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