How to Create Remarkable Content In the Age of A.I.
Everyone in my house has a different answer to the same question: "What was the best new gift you unwrapped this Christmas?"
My wife might say a new TV.
My daughter might say her new scooter. No, wait, her Bluey figurines! No. No. No. No, Daddy, no. Wait. Daddy. No. WAIT! The unicorn markers! ………..I want a snack.
(This is 4.)
My son might say, "Dada! Mee-mee! MEE-MEE!"
(He means "Mickey.")
(He's 1.)
As for me? My favorite new gift is this seemingly simple binder:
This binder, slightly larger than an average piece of paper, with nothing at all inside of it just yet, is a physical reminder of what you and I are called to do this year and beyond.
And it's never felt more urgent.
* * *
The binder reminds me of one of my core theories about doing creative work, which combines two ideas:
Idea #1: "Creative" doesn't mean "big."
Creative work is just the sum total of lots of little decisions, all strung together. Whether examining a single project or the entire body of work of a single person, we'd find the same thing: lots of tiny movements, parts, and pieces.
When experiencing someone’s final product, we might feel intimidated or disassociate ourselves from a project or creator. ("I could never...") It feels too magical, too profound ... too big.
But if we zoom in, we find lots of little choices, each of which feel well within our grasp.
Idea #2: Creativity is not a talent. It's a way of operating.
(This is an idea popularized by actor, comedian, and writer John Cleese. Those words are his, not mine.)
Professionals we view as "ahead" of us have added two key ingredients to their "way of operating" that pair quite nicely with all those tiny movements, parts, and pieces. These are the ingredients we don't see when we consume their finished works.
First, they consistently evolve. They don't just do more of the same (even though that would qualify as additional "tiny movements, parts, and pieces"). Instead, they routinely reflect on their work and overall craft. They find ideas everywhere, from hidden moments in their lives others overlook as inspiration to big ideas and refreshing approaches pulled from unlikely sources. This allows them to avoid stagnation -- the largest threat to anyone looking to have a thriving creative career.
In the world of sports, some professional athletes like to say, "More than I love to win, I hate to lose." In our world, lots of pro creators might admit, "More than I like to create, I hate to stagnate."
Their creativity emerges out of a desire to push beyond the status quo -- whether their community's or their own. Said another way, consistently creative people consistently evolve.
In addition to this constant change, high-level creators benefit from a second ingredient: time.
We don't like to admit this, especially in the business world, but creating remarkable content takes time. It doesn't matter the talent, budget, or tools at our disposal, it takes time. We shouldn't ask others for shortcuts. We should ask ourselves: "Am I willing to invest the time?"
Assume for a moment the person you admire is on Step 100, and maybe you're on Step 10. If you want to reach Step 100 like they did, the only thing you can control is reaching Step 11. That's the work. They've done it. You're doing it too.
In the majority of cases, creators of deeply resonant things aren't the Beethovens of blogging or the Joan of Arcs of audio or the Yo-Yo Mas of YouTube.
Creators we admire are not prodigies. They're practiced.
* * *
So now, let's marry these two ideas to create my theory, which explains why I was so excited about that basic binder sitting in my office.
Idea #1: "Creative" doesn't mean "big." It's the sum total of lots of little choices that all add up.
Idea #2: Creativity is not a talent. It's a way of operating, which means pairing all those little choices with constant evolution and lots of time.
And so, my driving theory of what creativity "is" sounds like this:
Creativity is what happens when repetition meets reinvention, over time.
Make a thing. Make another thing, slightly differently. Do that again and again and again. That's it. That's what this is.
If creativity is repetition plus reinvention over time, then the hidden "secret" behind so many creators we admire isn't some gift from the Muse. Instead, they've just been running this equation longer than we have -- likely in ways that don't seem directly related to their current work.
Like when they were kids.
THAT is why I'm so excited about that silly little binder: because it's a place to house my daughter early artwork, so I can prove to her eventual older self that she's the type of person who creates confidently and consistently, while inspiring her to continue making things right now.
If you think I'm a good writer, then (A) thank you! And (B) know that it's thanks in large part to my parents and teachers telling me very early in life: "Jason, you're good at this."
(Oh -- this is where you and I become closer friends. Yes, real name is Jason. The older generation of my family still calls me that.)
If you think I'm good at this stuff, it's because people around me told me I was good at this stuff when I was a kid.
And because I liked being told I was good at stuff ... I did it more.
I'm not good because I was gifted. I'm good because I am practiced, because my creativity equation began running before I knew what "writing" even meant. I'm practiced.
And I'm practiced because I'm privileged. I had (and have) a wonderful support system around me.
(Side note: I'll be announcing a membership project this year called the Creator Kitchen to help more of us feel supported, confident, and consistent in shipping more remarkable, craft-driven content. Stay tuned.)
As a result of people saying I was good at this stuff, the "repetition" piece of my creativity equation exploded. And because they told me I was good at this stuff so early in life, I also benefitted from lots and lots and lots of time spent creating.
Like, literal decades. (I’ve been writing online alone since 2005, but my very first written projects were little cartoon books I drew about my toy snake, named Sammy, when I could barely write the letter S. Which, as you might imagine, made it difficult to both write the copy of the book and draw its main character. But I digressssssss.)
(Don’t worry, I hate me for that joke too.)
Where was I? Ah, yes: repetition over time.
As for the reinvention piece of the equation, here are a few ways we can all continue evolve our creative "way of operating" to ship more remarkable content, more consistently:
1. Ask questions Google can’t answer
(This is something the great author and speaker Andrew Davis says often.)
Stop acting like an expert. Start acting like an investigator.
If you'd like to hear that in action and explore a framework to help, listen to "Leaving Expertville," the most popular episode of my show in 2022.
2. Treat your writing as a means to try and understand — not a way to share what you already do.
Don’t gather up all the answers you think you need to justify creating. Create to find your answers. Allow yourself to dive into the messiness of the research and drafting phases, to muck about in search of a breakthrough in your own understanding. Use the process to look forward at what you'd like to understand, not backward at what you've already learned.
Then publish THAT, and invite others to contribute their ideas to inform your next rep.
3. Before you add a single new project, commit to freeing up 150% of the time the new project will take.
This starts by embracing you shouldn’t add without subtracting. But beyond that, don't just add the time you think it will take to produce something. Add an extra amount of dedicated think time for the project too.
You're here to create meaningful, remarkable things. Thinking is the main thing you ought to be good at. But it has to be on your calendar, as sacred as a doctor's appointment or meeting with a key stakeholder.
Thinking: your unfair advantage! (Isn't that weird?)
4. Consume less industry content.
Replace things you supposedly “must” know with things you’re curious to know -- especially if that takes you outside your own echo chamber.
Me, I spend lots of time listening to comedians, actors, artists, and musicians talk about the craft than I do marketers or fellow B2B creators. I've read fewer than five business books in my career. I subscribe to zero business news sites and follow zero business media companies or personalities. And I'm fine. I fight the occasional feelings of FOMO, but other than that, my work and career have not suffered.
The need to become an industry voyeur is a trap. Run from it.
Pursue feelings of curiosity, not FOMO.
5. Start with a story more often.
This is entirely on us as communicators.
Nobody reading you will reply, "Hey, good piece, but next time can you please open with a personal anecdote?"
Nobody paying you will say, "It's definitely worth doing copious amounts of work to find, develop, and ship a story about a person at a company that isn't ours."
Nobody interviewing you this year will end their next question by saying, "...and please respond with a story."
You just.
Decide.
To do it.
* * *
This is more urgent than ever
You and I are currently facing the combination of three forces that demand us to deliver the very best of what each of us can create this year:
Economic turmoil causing people to cut whatever doesn't feel absolutely vital (employees, freelancers, subscriptions, purchases)
Social media companies whose algorithms reward oversimplified and overly sensational junk, driven by billionaires who don't give a damn about your success.
Generative AI tools exploding onto the scene, threatening to replace certain types of creative work.
It all points to the need for us to become irreplaceable, to make things so deeply resonant, we're among their favorites. To meet the moment, we need to imbue the work with more of our own humanity -- our lived experiences and stories, our vision and personal style and taste. More emotional work. More resonant work. More effective work.
No more commodity junk. Make 2023 the year of craft and intuition. Allow the things that make you who you are to color your work more brightly.
Creativity is repetition plus reinvention, over time.
Put in the reps. Ensure you evolve. And be willing to invest the time. It's now or never that you and I commit to this calling.
The good news?
It's never too late to begin your binder.