I’m on the road for a few days, but not to worry - there will be plenty of material to keep you entertained.
Brian Gardner on fear, self-doubt, and letting yourself and others down.
John O'Nolan talks about the true price of success.
And Ash Ambirge gives us an example of how putting in the work pays off.
Better Than Me
A few years ago, Russell Brand published a brutally authentic post on The Guardian called My Life Without Drugs.
Absolutely brilliant writing—the kind that makes me envious, the kind that makes me wish I wrote it. Everything about that was right. The authenticity, the poetry. Just all of it.
There’s one thing he said that I’ve never been able to shake from my mind and I’m pretty sure I know exactly why that is.
“Drugs and alcohol are not my problem, reality is my problem, drugs and alcohol are my solution.”
I have so many reactions that I want to share about what he wrote—some shocking, some embarrassing—most of which you might judge me on.
Russell’s authenticity is set from the start, as he opens up immediately:
“The last time I thought about taking heroin was yesterday.”
I don’t know about you, but I formulated an opinion on him and his character quickly. It didn’t take long for me to realize I was calling the kettle black.
–> Read More from Brian Gardner
The Price of Success
It’s easy being the underdog.
I don’t say everything I’d like to. Not any more. There was a time when I could tweet or write anything about anyone and feel good about it. When you’re the little fish in the big pond you don’t have anything to lose.
You see it time and time again. In music, in business, in publishing, in practically any industry or community you could care to name.
Innovation - real innovation - comes from the little guys. The ones who stand up and say something that goes against conventional wisdom or flies in the face of established norms. They push boundaries because there is more to be gained than to be lost.
And then something ironic happens. It happens every time.
–> Read more from John O'Nolan
Nine Freaking Months. That's How Long It Takes
Nine Freaking Months. That’s How Long It Takes to Make ONE Episode of The Simpsons.
Nine months! Which, for the record, is the same amount of time it took me to learn how to operate a damn Keurig. (WHY IS IT SO TOUCHY?! THE CUP IS IN! THE CUP IS INNNNN, I TELL YOU!)
So nine months to make a single episode of The Simpsons—which is definitely longer than you’d imagine, since it is the twenty-first century and all. And yet—and here’s the real kicker—it only takes a writer two weeks to write the script, which is about forty-five pages long.
So what’s everybody doing the other eight and a half months? Getting drunk? Playing bocci ball?
Well, let’s take a little looksie, shall we?
Because how often do you work on something and get SO DOWN ON YOURSELF when it isn’t perfect and you suck? How often do you come close to quitting because it’s taking you forever and you don’t think you’ve got it in you?
The best work takes twenty times longer than you’ve planned. The best work happens when everybody else goes home. The best work happens when you’re poring over the details.
And the best work happens when you GET that creating something kick ass doesn’t happen on your first attempt: it happens over time, in layers.
Day after day, you add to it. And day after day, it becomes better. It has no choice.
–> Read More from Ash Ambirge