Thirty years ago this month, I created 18 Pine Street, a series of young adult novels with bestselling author Walter Dean Myers. He was a brilliant creator and a delightful partner. The kids who bought those books are having kids of their own now, and perhaps some of the books’ ideas around identity, agency and inclusion made a difference along the way.
And twenty years ago, I produced and published Waiting for Godiva on SACD. It’s now on Spotify. It sounds even better than I remember. Beth and Michael made something magical on that single day we spent recording.
When we’re in the middle of a project, it’s easy to imagine that it’s not going to be around for decades. But every project opens doors, for you and for the people you build it for. It doesn’t matter if it works for everyone, if it’s a worldwide bestseller or on the front page.
Fair is often in the eye of the beholder. What you think is fair might depend on where you are in the transaction. Losers tend to think an outcome is more unfair than winners do.
But square?
The thing about square is that everyone can agree on that part.
If something is fair and square, then the losers can concur with the winners, because square isn’t relative.
The secret is simple: if the calculations look the same regardless of what you’re rooting for, then you’ve found the method. The outcome should be unrelated to the method.
In fact, there are more good ideas right now than ever before. That’s not the hard part.
Need a name for your project? This site will not only invent a thousand names, it will also generate a nearly infinite number of logos for you. Instantly. Surely, at least one of them is a “good idea.”
1,000 emails take up just as much space (and cost just as much) as one. An online bookstore can carry every book ever published. And the long tail of music gives every single person a chance to share their work.
The simplest thing to do is “let the market sort itself out.” No judgment.
That’s what the algorithms of the tech world purport to do. No judgment about taste, quality or standards. Hands off about sources, repercussions or impact.
It’s easier. And at some level, it seems more fair.
Without the scarcity of limited shelf space, it’s easy to embrace infinity.
But no judgment is still a judgment in itself. When a site publishes every idea on its platform, promoting each based on a non-published formula, they’ve made a judgment about the power of ideas and the way a community can evolve. This is new. Libraries, bookstores, radio stations–all of the keepers of our culture–danced with scarcity and influence and responded with judgment. If you can’t carry or promote everything, then judgment is the obvious response. Because you have to pick something.
But when companies demur and refuse to make a judgment, infinity and scarcity collide. Institutional reputation and knowledge have value, and by ignoring them, the big tech companies are making a statement about that value. Each seems to be trying harder than the next to help users fail to understand what’s worth trusting.
The fracas that is kindergarten has a useful function. It helps kids grow up. But if you need surgery, I hope you’ll go to the hospital, not the local elementary school.
History is filled with examples of people who made errors in judgment.
The executives at Decca that turned down the Beatles, the CEO at Digital who said that no one would ever need to have a computer in their home, and the reviewers that didn’t like the movie 2001.
And of course, the creators that are wrong so often. The entrepreneur who raises a bunch of money and fails, or the musician who follows up a hit with a string of duds.
But these failures are all a sign that someone had been given the privilege to be wrong in the first place.
It’s tempting to find a sinecure where someone tells you what to do all day–after all, then you’re off the hook and you can’t be wrong, only the boss can.
But it’s far more thrilling and useful and fulfilling to be the one who might mess up.
There are unforeseen speedbumps, missed connections and of course, a lot of luck.
If you are in love with your authentic voice, you’re unlikely to change. One lesson from the 500 Songs podcast is that most classic rock songs were made by people who started pretty far from where they ended up, but persisted, adjusted and changed until they created the hits they sought.
Not one of them sounded the way they thought they would when they started… the act of making a hit involved abandoning some of what they said they believed in. These hits weren’t ‘authentic’ or the work of native talent. They were evolved, tweaked and changed in response to feedback from the world.
Change too often and you stand for nothing. You’re simply chasing a shadow you will never catch.
Refuse to change and you’re likely to be overlooked.
Somewhere in between is the posture of someone who has the maximum chance for success. This is what happens when a creator goes to the crossroads. Professionals serve the audience by leading them to where they need to go.
The industrial age prized these three attributes. We’ve all been indoctrinated into adopting them through our time in organized schooling, and it’s easy to imagine that the world still wants this.
When work is geographically bounded and the assembly line is the dynamic of efficiency, this is precisely what’s sought. Your resume certifies that you have what it takes to check the boxes, and the hiring company adjusts its offered pay to get the folks it needs, when they need them.
But now the rules have changed, suddenly and perhaps for the long haul.
There are still companies, many of them, searching for HCW. But those aren’t jobs we actually want.
When your job is digital, when you can work from home, there is no such thing as “handy.” That means that the company is either going to hire the cheapest possible person out of perhaps a billion worldwide, or get a computer to do it, or…
Or they need to hire someone special.
Someone with significant skills.
They might be the traditional sort of skills. That you’re actually truly great at coding or design or engineering. You’ve done the reading, built a body of work and earned the respect of your peers. That you’re not saying, “you need anyone, and I’m anyone,” but instead, are demonstrably and substantially better at the craft.
Or they could be real skills, which some call soft skills. That you bring emotional labor, thoughtful analysis, care, humor, equanimity or other difficult human actions to the work. Significantly more than most people do. If you’re off the chart at this, it will be valued by the places you’d be happiest working.
The good news is that there’s a path. The hard part is digging in and becoming better than good.
Not better than good at everything, or even better than good for everyone. Simply better than good for someone.
October 28, 2022
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