We know when others don’t care much about a project. We can tell because they don’t provide constructive feedback.
If they are shooting ideas down left and right or not giving feedback at all – perhaps just approving to keep it moving – then we know they aren’t putting heart into it.
The folks who can riff on changes for longer than expected, those who pick at the details, those who gut check that it’s making strategic sense at every step, those who provide meaningful feedback … there’s no doubt in hell that they care.
Interestingly enough, if we notice this in others, it’s likely they notice it in us, too.
If we’re not willing to stand up and provide constructive feedback, why are we reviewing at all?
Like a boxer, we love our corner. It’s the space we’re comfortable, there’s no one beating us up, we get good pep-talks from others and from ourselves and we are able to catch our breath.
The corner’s a safe place.
Unlike a boxer, we don’t leave the corner as much as we should. We don’t go out and put up a good fight, pick ourselves up when knocked down, get aggressive and enter the mental battle of endurance and determination in pursuit of our goal to make a difference.
I think, if we’re going to live life similar to a boxer, we might as well go at it fully; to use the corner when needed, but ultimately spend most of our time in the ring, working to fulfill our dream.
Even the phrase eggs you on to hang onto them; to linger in a past investment.
“Sunk costs”
It even makes you journey through all the time you spent on the cost, every dollar or hour or drop of sweat.
There’s a sunk cost that hits everyone at some point, but artists–they’ve got the worst of it. Most of their work, their days, their energy is a sunk cost.
All they invested yesterday might not impact their tomorrow, especially when faced with a new direction, option or demand.
Quick personal example:
I thought paying down a debt with a big chunk of change a couple of months ago would help me make a case for a business loan to fund a startup only to find that the bank would rather I have those dollars in the account and a larger debt instead.
There’s were no brownie points for good intention or less debt or a propensity to pay more on monthly payments than is requested. No acknowledgement of the investment made two months ago.
But that’s what comes with being an impresario. We make the best decisions we can knowing full well that they might not work, they may not be in our best interest, that we may need to pivot to keep moving forward.
So, when the opportunity of a breaking point draws near, do you hold on to the past or do you fervently move forward and play with the fresh hand you’ve been dealt?
An artist only has one direction when faced with the breaking point moment regarding sunk costs.
Forward.
Stay Positive & Remember That You – As A Linchpin – Signed Up For This. Own It.
It’s one thing to put all your effort into making something excellent out of the gate … To invest time and energy and money so you’re shipping the best it can be.
If you think about it long enough, though, that’s actually the easy part of excellence.
The tough part comes when to be excellent is when you decide to take a step backward or to shut down operations until you can guarantee you’re putting out something of excellence.
I’d go so far as to say excellence isn’t created by those who put something out in the world – no matter how great it is –; it’s created by those who notice when something could be better and set out to make it so – even at their own detriment.
In essence, excellence isn’t something that happens out of the gate; it happens on mile 25 when you have the chance to cut corners without anyone noticing and the option to call it “good enough.”
That’s the breaking point. That decision determines excellence … or not.
Stay Positive & Excellence Comes After You Ship, Not When You Ship
If we’re hoping to become better weightlifters, we need only to visit the gym more often. The gym doesn’t shame us for not doing our best or remove a recent promotion we’ve gotten when we can’t lift more than we did yesterday.
If we’re hoping to become a better pianist, we need only to practice more and harder and smarter. No one is there to point out all of our mistakes or take away some bonus because we didn’t play longer than we had planned to play.
Most often, the work we do – the meaningful work – doesn’t have a safe space to practice or train like lifting or playing piano does.
Everything is on the line all of the time at work. Livelihoods, salaries, and relationships that are there can all make or break us.
And so we try to be as safe as possible, reduce risk and hide.
Rather than trying to do the opposite (which is certainly an option), I recommend finding a similar line of work that allows you to train for the real thing.
To freelance or to pitch your work to those you don’t need approval from simply to discover your weak points and to try new things. A space to take risks you wouldn’t normally, so you can bring those learning back to your regular work.
If we all found the equivalent of a mobile gym with our work, we could train and reach and fail and learn and do things that are more in the interest of making change in the world than keeping our paycheck safe.
The freelancer’s workshop is a great place to get started. There’s no need to leave where you’re at now, but there is a need for a fourth space of sorts to help you become better with less feelings of risk. Click the purple dot on the page for a discount.
Stay Positive & It’s A Safe Place For Unsafe Actions – Place To Grow
