I love art and creativity. There’s something magical about taking an idea buried deep in your mind and transforming it into a creative artifact—a movie, song, website, logo, or photo. You get the idea. On top of that, I love technology. Isn’t it amazing how much access we have to mind-blowing tools that make our jobs easier? I’m far from an early adopter of new tech toys, but I love how I can broaden my creative vision a little further into the future every year. But I haven’t always been this way. I used to be a creative gatekeeper. I wanted to define rules that allowed me to label what was and wasn’t creative. More specifically, as a self-declared gatekeeper, I controlled who was and was not creative. While I have allowed my opinions to morph and evolve over the years, I’m seeing more and more people digging in their heels, declaring what is and is not creative: “This is art, but this is crap.” I understand the sentiment, but could there be a better way to advance our creative vision without gatekeeping creativity?

It’s a big week here at Getting Work To Work. The 7th anniversary of the podcast is this Friday featuring an interview with one of my heroes. I’m releasing the second episode of the documentary series about a farmer. And, as always, I’m thinking about what’s next. There’s always something to plan, produce, schedule, and promote. Perhaps that’s why I was lying awake last night, avoiding the next wave of production, by obsessing over things already finished. I was replaying moments from the interview earlier in the day. Hoping people will like the video. Wondering what this monologue will be about. My mind was racing. Sound familiar to you? I don’t think I’m alone because a thought occurred to me this morning, echoing my conversation with Mike Brennan: Why am I not taking time to celebrate? Why is celebrating anything so hard, especially when you know that the clock never stops?

A day doesn’t go by where I’m not considering the future of work. How will ideation and creation work? Will it be writing prompts, letting a computer spit out a rough draft, and then editing the results? What about distribution and economics? How will people find our work, and what will they be willing to pay for it? These are all great questions to think about and consider in the fast-paced world of the 21st century. But an unexamined question entered my mind: What role does history play in our work moving forward? Will we allow it to shape our experience or shun it to our detriment?

When you think about your creative expression, do you dream of ideas or the end product? I’ve always marveled at film directors who claim to see the finished product in their minds or even songwriters who hear the song playing in their imagination. For many, that is what successful creativity looks like, tapping into something already there and bringing it into existence. For others, like me, I might get tiny glimpses of an idea, but I generally have to start smashing ideas together to find out what they’ll be. I’ve had the opportunity to be on a couple of podcasts recently, talking about my creative origin stories. And as I reflected on those experiences, I realized that I approach creativity the way I do today because of how I taught myself to play the guitar.

When thinking about protecting yourself from other people’s words, the first thing that might enter your mind is criticism or feedback. Criticism is being externally thrust upon you by critics—either professional or merely haters—and feedback is being requested from others and received by you. At least, that’s how I differentiate between the two. It can be challenging to open yourself up to criticism and feedback, it is a necessary skill, but that’s not what I mean by protection from the words of others. I mean those moments when people treat you as a commodity, a demographic, or a willing audience member to spread their ideas. In these moments, words can do the most damage when an element of control is in play, so I will share a few ways to protect yourself and your creative spirit.

This past Saturday, I attended a podcast conference in Portland, Oregon. It was a chance to step away from the computer and be around people, talking about podcasts. It was exciting and exhausting, with a ton of takeaways. Inevitably, every conversation led to the same question: “What’s your podcast about?” A simple question with many answers, but I still struggled to answer succinctly. I wanted a one-sentence explainer, but there are so many stories explaining what Getting Work To Work is all about. I shared the origin story with one person and another, the show’s evolution. At the same time, another conversation centered around a single word to describe the episodes where I don’t have guests. After the conference, I kept thinking about these conversations and thought, “Why work?” So, that’s what I’m going to talk about today.

My mind is wrestling with how to stay creative and productive as I grow older. Naturally, I think about technology and ensuring I use the latest and greatest cameras and equipment. But as I look at my actual process versus what is idealistic and even fantastical, I realize I’m a few years behind. That’s because there are more important values and ideals in my life and, ultimately, my business. Before you indict me as an anti-technological heretic, I will make my case for what could possibly be more important than the latest and great technology.

Have you ever had one of those conversations that reveal how stuck you are and show you what you need to move forward? The question was simple: “What are you going to do about AI?” My response was swift, “I don’t know. I’m just not curious about it.” This is where friends in life are helpful to call you on your stuff, “Aren’t you the curiosity guy? Now’s not the time to bury your head in the sand.” Truth comes in many forms. Sometimes we hear it at the moment, but more often, we find the truth in replaying the memory. At least, that’s how it works for me. The reality is that the answer to this question of AI is a lot more complicated and complex. In today’s episode of Getting Work To Work, I’m diving into the many answers to this simple question.

Over the past ten years, I’ve read and heard a lot about the value of knowing your strengths. From understanding how they show up in your life and work to ensuring that you are operating from a position of power if you want to be at your best, it’s better to build upon a foundation of strength, not weakness. But recently, I read a quote from Bono’s book, Surrender: 40 Songs, One Story that got me thinking differently about strengths. Could it be possible that what was once a strength would become a weakness? What if, at some point in our lives, weaknesses become strengths? That is the premise that I’ll be exploring in today’s episode of Getting Work To Work.

My favorite types of questions are what I call launching questions. They are not only open-ended, as the best questions tend to be, but also so ripe with potential, meaning, and direction that I could generate an entire hour of conversation from a single question. Before recording an upcoming interview with Peleg Top, a mentor, and an artist, he asked me about one of my favorite launching questions: What’s filling your curiosity tank? He wanted to know more about the foundation of the question and what I was hoping to learn from it. As I examined my intentions, I was able to recognize my assumptions and understand more about what I want to ignite in others. Not to mention, Peleg’s answer in the interview found its way into today’s monologue.

I’ve talked a lot about my journey on the podcast, especially where I find myself today: in the middle. I’m not anywhere near the beginning, nowhere near the end. Some days I can see to the very end. On other days, I can’t see anything at all. In these dark days, creativity provides an escape, a respite from the vicious storyteller in my mind as long as I let creativity do its job. It’s easy to get stuck, make excuses, and lie down to let the day pass to the next. Hoping things will change without action, petitioning the silence within for a change. But the best course of action is to move, even the slightest bit, to gain a new perspective and find a different story to tell.

As children, no one teaches us to dream. We see the stars and put on our helmets, for we are already flying amongst the galaxy. We hear the songs and sing along, for the melodies and words are already in our imagination. We see the animals and run alongside them, for we are one. No one needs to tell us why or how; we just do. Then we become self-aware. The dreams will make us outcasts, so we conform. Thus, beginning the journey of our lives from knowing who we are to becoming who we are. Fortunately, there are people along the way to teach us to dream. If we only pay attention.

In the last monologue, I shared how much I need to unplug. This morning, Austin Kleon wrote about a “Slow Learning” project conducted by two European organizations. Curiosity piqued, I downloaded the collaborative book that includes a Bill of Rights, reflections from 19 authors and artists about what slow learning means to them, and experiments for incorporating slow learning into your life. In today’s episode of Getting Work To Work, I’m exploring this idea of slow learning by sharing a few quotes from the project and how I’m incorporating slower learning in my life and work.

“Have you been spending too much time on social media?” I hated that I was asked that question for two reasons. First, the answer was yes, so I didn’t want to admit it. And second, I wasn’t ready to make different decisions on the other side of that question. But the question was actually more profound and complex than just social media. It was everything: news, social media, email. It seemed that no matter what I did, I was triggering my cynicism and hopelessness. The robots were coming for my creativity. I was both good enough and not good enough. Pity, despair, it was all there. And I hated every minute of it. It’s time for me to unplug, and in this episode of Getting Work To Work, I’m sharing five ways to escape from the “always on” culture.

What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think about retirement? For me, it’s whether I can retire or not. I’m not sure why I’ve been thinking about it more, but the proverbial clock sure is ticking loudly. But after a call last week with Tom Morin, I’m starting to think about retirement differently. Why? Because I can and I must. There’s more to it than money, and if I start planning now, I’ll be ready for the shift of priorities that will be sure to come in my 50s, 60s, and 70s. Wherever you are in your creative journey, I hope this episode inspires you to blaze a new trail for the future of your life and work.

If there is one word that seems to trigger me daily, it’s relevance. Not only must I be relevant as a creator, but my work must also be. I didn’t really know why until I wrote this episode. But if you want a quick hint, I think it’s because, as a technologically-driven culture, we treat relevance like a constant variable that never changes when, in fact, it never stops changing. This confusion causes us to reset and reinvent ourselves every single day, sometimes multiple times a day. Instead of stopping and reevaluating our behavior, we say, “That’s just the way things are if you want to stay top of mind.” No wonder we get exhausted. If only we could do something differently.

I love doing great work, but more than that, I love having a creative process that grows as I do. But lately, I’ve been doing some soul-searching and reflecting on the other side of burnout. What was the cause? Was it the constant need for perceived perfection? Was it the never-ending comparison to other professionals? I think it was the lack of experimentation. In this episode of Getting Work To Work, I’m exploring three areas of creativity: the lab, process, and recipe. And why returning to the lab is just as important as having an excellent product.

How would you describe your creative vision when you look at your body of work? Is it present throughout, or can you see something missing? Earlier in my career, my creative vision was strong. I chased after my ideas. I created the work I wanted to see in the world. Eventually, I got tired and didn’t allow myself to rest. I chased distractions down rabbit trails, started over too many times, and allowed lies and stories to hold me back. I still got my work out into the world, but my vision was a fraction of what it once was. In today’s episode of Getting Work To Work, I’m talking about creative vision and how I am building it back up for a better future.

I often get asked how I keep coming up with ideas for Getting Work To Work. I usually talk about the continual search as I read books, watch films, and listen to music. But what I don’t talk about enough are the occasional moments when nothing is there. Today is one of those moments; every idea that pops up gets vetoed by some vicious part of my brain. But the one idea that got through was what I needed: “Remember that one episode you wrote last year and never recorded?” Originally written in August of 2022 and inspired by a show on Disney+ about Industrial Light & Magic, today’s episode is what I needed to hear.

If there’s one thing I wish I had known earlier in my career, it’s that the best way to transform ideas into finished projects is to attach them to the right people and never stop pitching ideas. Even if they aren’t ready, especially if they aren’t. There is a lot of fear about sending off half-baked or raw ideas, but something magical happens as you type up the idea and hit send. Even if the project has zero chance of happening, you’ve gotten over the first step of creation: wondering who the audience is and whether they’ll “get it.” In today’s episode of Getting Work To Work, I’m unpacking the art of the pitch, or at least how I do it.