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“I can’t go for that”

No can do.

We drift.

Our standards aren’t set in stone. They change over time, often based on the situation we’re in.

This explains how cults or extreme views occur. Not all at once, but bit by bit.

Until one day, people wake up and are shocked to discover that they’re advocating for (or doing something) that is clearly wrong. It didn’t make them uncomfortable yesterday, but the reality of what’s being done is so different from the person we’d like to be that a break occurs.

The question is: If no one else was doing this, arguing for it, insisting on it–would we? Is it something you felt strongly about before the tribe and its leader took it on?

We can avoid this by staying away from institutions that profit from pushing participants further than they’d want to go on their own. If the heroes are extremists (in any sense of that word) don’t be surprised if participants are pushed to be so as well. And even more powerfully, we can remind ourselves of our first principles, about what matters more than winning or being popular.

Standing for something is a good way to avoid having someone stand on you.

The long road

What can we build for 2050?

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.

Oceans are made of drops.

The hodgepodge is normal

Your house contains products from hundreds of thousands of suppliers and craftspeople.

The food you eat comes to you from a very loosely coordinated (not organized, not controlled) network of millions of vendors and farmers.

To read this blog, you’re using software from hundreds (probably thousands) of companies, all barely connected in time and space.

In the Star Trek future, it’s all seamless, coherent and controlled.

In fact, the hodgepodge continues to get more chaotic, not less.

The work is to build and influence systems, not to seek to control it all.

Habits are not needs

It’s easy to imagine that they are, as it lets us off the hook as habits become negative, or even addictions.

If someone else is thriving without the habit we seem to need, then it’s likely a desire pretending to be a need.

For example: You can be a successful professional without spending time on social media.

Fair and square

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.

No good ideas?

It’s certainly a common excuse for being stuck.

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.”

No, the hard part is choosing.

And the hard part is taking responsibility.

And the hard part is committing.

AI doesn’t help with these.

Gatekeepers and judgment

Infinity is seductive.

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.

Circus peanuts don’t contain nuts

This is obvious. Circus peanuts don’t have nuts, legumes or anything else that resembles a nut.

They’re a metaphor. Or perhaps a simile, it depends on your level of pedantry.

And yet, many people have a hard time with metaphor. Metaphor, not memorization, is the heart of learning.

If you understand A, and you see that B is like A but a little different, now you understand B.

Memorization is brittle. Metaphor scales.

Metaphor helps us create the next thing and find our footing when confronted with the new.

I believe that understanding metaphor is a skill. We can get better at it.

Find some circus peanuts you don’t understand and decode them.

The opportunity to be wrong

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.

Sticking just the right amount

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.