The Practice: Shipping Creative Work

by Seth Godin

We can begin with this: If we failed, would it be worth the journey? Do you trust yourself enough to commit to engaging with a project regardless of the chances of success?

How can any of us be certain? And yet, how can anyone who cares hold back?

Ethicist Peter Singer asks us to consider: if you were on your way to work, wearing brand-new beautiful leather shoes, and you passed a small child, face down in a stream, would you run into the shallow water and save her life? Of course you would. It doesn’t matter what happens to your shoes; it doesn’t matter who the kid is. You can do it and so you must do it. And the same is true, if perhaps less dramatic, when it comes to your work. Any idea withheld is an idea taken away. It’s selfish to hold back when there’s a chance you have something to offer.

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.

Everything that matters is something we’ve chosen to do.

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. It’s insulting to call a professional talented. She’s skilled, first and foremost. Many people have talent, but only a few care enough to show up fully, to earn their skill. Skill is rarer than talent. Skill is earned. Skill is available to anyone who cares enough.

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

No property is more private than your voice.

you can’t be a great architect unless you have great clients.

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

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.

Everyone won’t hear you. They won’t understand you. And most of all, they won’t act.

But you can choose who you’ll reach. If you change those people in a remarkable way, they’ll tell the others. And so begins “who’s it for?” Once you choose which subgroup to tell your story to, which subgroup needs to change, this group becomes your focus. 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.

What about your project, your gig, your organization? Who’s it for? 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. The work itself is our client and we owe it something.

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.

you announce what something is supposed to do, it’s difficult to avoid a feeling of failure when it doesn’t do what you said it was going to do.

little sign.

little binder

The alignment of the who and the what are the first step. The enrollment of the people in the room permits her to get right to work. And so the music is possible because Patricia has created the conditions where it can thrive.

The headline in the magazine ad exists to get the right person to keep reading (and to have the wrong person turn the page). Beyond that, the headline is designed to put the reader into the right state of mind so the next paragraph has a chance of getting under the reader’s skin.

what we’re actually doing is hiding. Hiding takes many forms, because the source of our creativity sometimes feels as though it might flicker out if we look at it too closely. So it bobs and weaves and conceals itself whenever it can.

solipsism

Instinct is great. It’s even better when you work on it.

If we’re going to act with intention and empathy, our path is clear. The work is to make change happen. If we don’t ship the work, no change will happen. If we ship the wrong work to the wrong people, no change will happen. Your audience doesn’t want your authentic voice. They want your consistent voice.

It’s hard to authentically show up day after day, working hour after hour, when there’s probably something else you’d rather be doing. It’s difficult to encounter a dangerous situation without blinking, to patiently persist in the face of criticism, or even to merely show up on a regular basis. But that difficult work is all inauthentic. It’s work we do precisely because we don’t feel like it in the short run. It’s the choice to do something for long-term reasons, not because we’re having a tantrum.

Inauthentic means effective, reasoned, intentional. It means it’s not personal, it’s generous.

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.

The education-industrial complex has grown up around the idea that no one has the ability to create useful work without a certificate.

Credentialing is a form of signaling, a stalling device, and also a way to keep diversity down.

Take a look at the leaders you respect, in any field. And then consider the credential that got them there.

This desire for external approval and authority directly undermines your ability to trust yourself, because you’ve handed this trust over to an institution instead.

Credentialing wouldn’t have the power it does if we didn’t eagerly embrace our lack of a credential as the perfect place to hide. After all, if you haven’t been picked, you’re off the hook.

Credentialing lulls us into false confidence about who is actually an expert. The fact that you have a degree doesn’t mean you have insight, experience, or concern. You’ve acquired a piece of paper, but that doesn’t mean you care.

But writer’s block is invented. So is a fear of spiders, a belief in astrology, or the confidence we feel before giving a speech.

Getting rid of your typos, your glitches, and your obvious errors is the cost of being in the game. But the last three layers of polish might be perfectionism, not service to your audience. Failure is the foundation of our work.

But the only way to find something new is to be prepared (or even eager) to be wrong on our way to being right.

The practice seeks to make change, but the process demands originality. The practice is consistent, but only in intention, not in execution.

Is the Narrative Working?

Our story is about how the world works, our role in it, and what might happen next.

Two questions about your narrative: 1. Is it closely aligned to what’s actually happening in the world? If, for example, you’re constantly worried about something happening, but it never does, it’s probably a miscalculation on your part. If you believe your work is fabulous but no one wants to interact with it, again, you might not be telling a truthful story about the world. Here’s a simple test. Ask: Do other successful people have this narrative? 2. Is it working? Is the narrative you use helping you achieve your goals? Because that’s what it’s for. If it’s getting in your way, then instead of trying to change the outside world to match your expectations of it, it might pay for you to change the narrative instead.

The most important parts of our lives are games that we can’t imagine winning.

Play to keep playing.

The marathon we don’t see is the year of lonely early-morning runs, the support groups, and the persistence of effort.

That’s why authors blurb one another’s books. The act of creation isn’t about finding scarcity that belongs to you and to no one else. The act of creation involves touching something abundant and being eager to share it with other creators.

When we stop worrying about whether we’ve done it perfectly, we can focus on the process instead. Saturday Night Live doesn’t go on at 11:30 p.m. because it’s ready. It goes on because it’s 11:30.

We don’t ship because we’re creative. We’re creative because we ship.