The Practice: Shipping Creative Work

by Seth Godin

A genius is the one most like himself. THELONIOUS MONK

Realer than real, truer than true. STEVEN PRESSFIELD

The practice is not the means to the output, the practice is the output, because the practice is all we can control. The practice demands that we approach our process with commitment. It acknowledges that creativity is not an event, it’s simply what we do, whether or not we’re in the mood. Sculptor Elizabeth King said it beautifully, “Process saves us from the poverty of our intentions.”

For most of us, that pattern was set a long time ago. We chose to embrace a story about compliance and convenience, the search for status in a world constrained by scarcity.

It is a persistent, stepwise approach that we pursue for its own sake and not because we want anything guaranteed in return.

process that takes us where we hope to go. This practice is a journey without an external boss. Because there’s no one in charge, this path requires us to trust ourselves—and more importantly, our selves—instead.

The Bhagavad-Gita says, “It is better to follow your own path, however imperfectly, than to follow someone else’s perfectly.”

At the heart of the creative’s practice is trust: the difficult journey to trust in your self, the often hidden self, the unique human each of us lives with.

As John Gardner wrote, “The renewal of societies and organizations can go forward only if someone cares.”

When you choose to produce creative work, you’re solving a problem. Not just for you, but for those who will encounter what you’ve made. By putting yourself on the hook, you’re performing a generous act. You are sharing insight and love and magic. And the more it spreads, the more it’s worth to all of those who are lucky enough to experience your contribution. Art is something we get to do for other people.

Skill is not the same as talent. A good process can lead to good outcomes, but it doesn’t guarantee them. Perfectionism has nothing to do with being perfect. Reassurance is futile. Hubris is the opposite of trust. Attitudes are skills. There’s no such thing as writer’s block. Professionals produce with intent. Creativity is an act of leadership. Leaders are imposters. All criticism is not the same. We become creative when we ship the work. Good taste is a skill. Passion is a choice.

Practicing how to throw. Getting good at throwing. If you get good enough at throwing, the catching takes care of itself.

Our work is about throwing. The catching can take care of itself.

For the important work, the instructions are always insufficient. For the work we’d like to do, the reward comes from the fact that there is no guarantee, that the path isn’t well lit, that we cannot possibly be sure it’s going to work. It’s about throwing, not catching. Starting, not finishing. Improving, not being perfect.

Being creative is a choice and creativity is contagious.

Art is the work we do where there is no right answer—and yet the journey is worth the effort. We might make art with a keyboard, with a paintbrush, or with our actions. Mostly, we do it because we lean into a practice, trusting we have a shot at making a difference. We do it without a guarantee, with simply a practice we’ve chosen to commit to.

Art is the generous act of making things better by doing something that might not work.

Your work is too important to be left to how you feel today.

Waiting for a feeling is a luxury we don’t have time for.

If you want to change your story, change your actions first. When we choose to act a certain way, our mind can’t help but rework our narrative to make those actions become coherent. We become what we do.

If we condition ourselves to work without flow, it’s more likely to arrive. It all comes back to trusting our self to create the change we seek. We don’t agree to do that after flow arrives. We do the work, whether we feel like it or not, and then, without warning, flow can arise. Flow is a symptom of the work we’re doing, not the cause of it.

The trap is this: only after we do the difficult work does it become our calling. Only after we trust the process does it become our passion. “Do what you love” is for amateurs. “Love what you do” is the mantra for professionals.

Lost in this obsession with outcome is the truth that outcomes are the results of process. Good processes, repeated over time, lead to good outcomes more often than lazy processes do.

The world’s worst boss might very well be you. Because the most important boss whom each of us answers to is ourselves.

You would never work for somebody who treats you the way that you treat your self.

A good decision is based on what we know of the options and the odds. A good outcome happens or it doesn’t: it is a consequence of the odds, not the hidden answer.

Just as a good process doesn’t guarantee the outcome you were hoping for, a good decision is separate from what happens next.

Decisions are good even if the outcomes aren’t.

Reassurance is futile—and focusing on outcomes at the expense of process is a shortcut that will destroy your work.

Requiring control over external events is a recipe for heartache and frustration. Worse, if you need a guarantee you’re going to win before you begin, you’ll never start. The alternative is to trust the process, to do our work with generosity and intent, and to accept every outcome, the good ones as well as the bad. Yes, you’re an imposter. But you’re an imposter acting in service of generosity, seeking to make things better.

The only choice we have is to begin. And the only place to begin is where we are. Simply begin. But begin.

The truth is simpler: If you want to be a leader, then lead. If you want to be a writer, then write. “I am of service” is something each of us can choose to become. It only takes a moment to begin. And once you begin, you are.

There’s nothing magic about being eleven years old. Except that it’s easier to develop an identity when you don’t have to walk away from one you’ve already developed.

“So far” and “not yet” are the foundation of every successful journey.

Trust is a commitment to the practice, a decision to lead and make change happen, regardless of the bumps in the road, because you know that engaging in the practice is better than hiding from it.

We develop trust over time. Our interactions lead to expectations, and those expectations, repeated and supported, turn into trust.

Trust earns you patience, because once you trust yourself, you can stick with a practice that most people can’t handle.

At some point, the professional has to bring home the fish. That’s the fuel that permits the professional to show up each day. But the catch is the side effect of the practice itself. Get the practice right, and your commitment will open the door for the market to engage with your work.

“Process saves us from the poverty of our intentions,”

The world conspires to hold us back, but it can’t do that without our permission.

Selling can feel selfish. We want to avoid hustling people, and so it’s easy to hold back in fear of manipulating someone. Here’s an easy test for manipulation: if the people you’re interacting with discover what you already know, will they be glad that they did what you asked them to?

Artists have a chance to make things better by making better things.

A scarcity mindset simply creates more scarcity, because you’re isolating yourself from the circle of people who can cheer you on and challenge you to produce more. Instead, we can adopt a mindset of abundance. We can choose to realize that creativity is contagious—if you and I are exchanging our best work, our best work gets better. Abundance multiplies. Scarcity subtracts. A vibrant culture creates more than it takes.

Our culture is like that village. Ideas shared are ideas that spread, and ideas that spread change the world.

The easiest way to go through life is to let life go through you.

The same is true for learning. True learning (as opposed to education) is a voluntary experience that requires tension and discomfort (the persistent feeling of incompetence as we get better at a skill).

Discomfort is the feeling we all get just before change happens. But this new form of hospitality—of helping people change by taking them somewhere new—can make us personally uncomfortable as well. It might feel easier to simply ask people what they want and do that instead.

Problems have solutions. That’s what makes them problems. A problem without a solution isn’t a problem, it’s simply a situation. Solvable problems are usually solved by surprising, non-trivial alternatives. If an obvious solution from an obvious source could have provided an answer, it would have happened already. Instead, it’s the unlikely approaches—the odd combinations that come from diversity—that often win the day.

Without your specific contributions, our diversity of approach and experience fades away.

“Here, I made this.” To trust yourself enough to ship the work. Of course, it might not work. That’s built into the process. Do it anyway. And then do it again. If you care enough, it’s worth doing as many times as it takes.