Whenever there’s a speculative bubble going on (or a cultural one, for that matter) life inside the bubble seems rational and normal.

And so artists at Miami:Basel are talking about minting NFTs. Not because they understand them (they don’t) or because they provide actual utility (they don’t) but because that’s what life is like inside of this particular speculative bubble.

And people outside the bubble are supposed to feel left behind, because that’s part of the fuel of life inside the bubble.

When a corporate culture begins to get insular, or a community starts acting like a cult, the same thing happens.

Culture is “the way we do things around here.” The very nature of a bubble is that there’s an inside and an outside, an expanding reality-distortion field that assures people inside the bubble that they’re doing things that are rational and normal.

If you’re confident that the bubble is here for the long-term, perhaps we shouldn’t hesitate to play along.

But when the bubble bursts (and speculative bubbles always do), be prepared for reality to disagree with your assertions.

“Art does not lie down on the bed that is made for it; it runs away as soon as one says its name; it loves to be incognito. Its best moments are when it forgets what it is called.” –Jean Dubuffet

If today was a holiday in your honor, what would it be about?

If we had to examine everything about you, your work, your impact, your reputation–what would be the positive caricature we would draw? What sorts of slogans, banners and greetings would we use to celebrate you and your work?

It’s never accurate to boil down an organization or a person’s work to a simple sentence or two, but we do it anyway.

What’s yours?

My first computer game design was in 1977–I came up with a version of Star Wars. It was almost nothing like the movie, but it was a pretty good game for something running on a mainframe.

The Godfather isn’t a perfect retelling of the book. But it’s a better movie as a result.

A really good recording doesn’t sound like a live concert or what you’d hear sitting in the studio. It sounds like a really good record. And when Alan Dean Foster and I turned Shadowkeep from a computer game into a novel, the goal wasn’t to replicate a computer game, it was to create a good novel.

When a medium arrives, or time shifts, it’s sometimes tempting to aim for a complete reconstruction of what came before. Follow the rules, don’t innovate. But that’s a mistake–a safe choice that’s actually a trap.

People desire media that is in and of itself. Each form of media has its own character, and fidelity from one form to another is a compromise that rarely works.

Because the world has changed, original isn’t original anymore. It can’t be, even if we want it to, because now it’s out of place. Just as we can’t step in the same river twice, each innovation in media forces us to walk away from fidelity to honor what’s possible.

Fidelity might feel like an option, and it takes effort and care. But is fidelity the best you can do?

When we switch media, or time zones, or cultures, or technology, it’s up to us to make the idea what it can become, not simply an unpalatable simulacrum of what it was over there.

Benchmarking involves looking at every element of what you offer and comparing it to the very best element of any of your competitors.

So your door handle is as good as the Audi’s, and your brake pedal is as good as the Volvo’s and…

It’s pretty tempting to do this. Who wants any element of what they do to be inferior to a competitor’s?

And yet…

That’s almost never what makes something remarkable (it’s worth noting that the Ford Taurus was the car that brought benchmarking to my attention… who wants a Ford Taurus?).

What makes something remarkable is a combination of its internal synergy—the parts work together as a coherent whole—and its imbalance. Something about it is worth talking about. Something about it is hard to find. Something about it helps us achieve our goals if we talk about it.

This uneven allocation of attention is the opposite of benchmarking. Find your edge and go over it.

Whatever “it” is.

That’s probably a mistake.

People don’t know what you know, don’t believe what you believe, don’t fear what you fear. They’re not equally skilled, equally fast and equally equipped.

“If I were you” isn’t that helpful.

Who decided that this was a good way for a group to interact?

It’s all the worst elements of synchronous and asynchronous discussion rolled into one. It prioritizes speed of reply over thoughtfulness, and creates a hard-to-manage non-coordinated sort of discovery and decision making.

If it’s worth taking the time of the team, it’s worth doing it in a shared doc or in real-time. Neither is as convenient, both reward thinking hard about how we want to move things forward.

The system is lazy. It focuses on the things that are easy to measure: How fast can you type, what was your score on the test, how many followers do you have?

One way to move forward is to learn discernment. You can discover overlooked value by measuring things that are difficult to measure.

And finding the energy and commitment to do things that others might not easily measure in the short run is the best way to make a difference.

A simple approach to learning how to solicit and receive feedback: Begin by showing a well-meaning peer someone else’s novel, painting, design or business plan…

You might discover that when you show it to a friend (“here’s a chapter from a novel I’m writing” or “Here’s the logo my firm is considering”) you get harsh, direct criticism, filled with certainty and warning.

It’s easier to hear, because it’s not your work. They’re busy criticizing a chapter that JK Rowling wrote, or a logo that the late Milton Glaser created.

“Oh,” you’ll realize, “this isn’t about the work, it’s about me, it’s about someone trying to help me avoid heartache later.”

It turns out that most people are unpracticed and unprofessional at giving useful feedback. Learning to differentiate well-meaning fear-on-your-behalf from actually useful insight is a great first step in understanding who to ask when it really matters.

We don’t need unwarranted criticism or simple reassurance. In fact, we need someone who understands genre and has the insight to share what they know in a way we can use.

It’s scary. That’s the point.

Pick a date certain. You’re on the hook.

Describe a particular type of client, or even choose one by name.

Be really clear about the change you seek to make.

Put your name on it.

Charge a fair price.

Assert that you’ve got something to say.

Know what you are doing and then act like it.

Avoid gimmicks and hustle.

These are all ways to put yourself on the hook. Is there any better place to be?

It probably doesn’t pay to buy your prom dress when you are 12 years old. You’re not sure of the size, not sure of what styles will be like and not even sure you want to go.

On the other hand, filing your taxes an hour before the deadline is a risk that doesn’t really pay off.

The last minute is an easy habit to fall into. Once you start focusing on crises, it makes it really difficult to find the focus and energy to begin planning ahead. But the last minute can be risky and expensive.

If something is:

• Far off
• Unlikely to happen
• Cheap to fix if it does
• Not sensitive to advance planning

the last minute might be a smart strategy. On the other hand, events that have some combination of:

• Certainty
• Known variables
• High cost later (lower cost now)

lend themselves to the discipline of planning ahead.

If it’s not worth the time to do the calculation, it’s probably not worth waiting for the last minute.