I now live in a house I own, surrounded by stuff I’ve since bought.
So I have a vivid memory of anticipating, purchasing, and finally receiving every item surrounding me.
This memory alone is a forcing function that helps me talk myself out of many new items. It also helps that most orders take at least two weeks to arrive. It’s a whole to-do to get most things.
Yet somehow I still have stuff I don’t want or need.
In America, there are Goodwill and the Salvation Army to process the glut of junk. You can drop off your excess canvas bags of impulse buys and bad decisions, and guilt. You can even write it off as a donation to charity!
Here in Colombia, it’s not as easy. It’s not hard to find people who have a use for your old clothes, for example, but find them you must. And your extra English-language books? That’s a tougher task.
Some of these items I really love: my recliner and over-bed table where I’m writing this, my standing desk, and my air fryer and Instant Pot.
But even though I love these items, I often wonder at what hidden cognitive costs they come. To what extent am I thinking about them or repairing them? At what point will they wear out or break and cause frustration as I try to replace them but find out they’re discontinued? Should I practice more time gratitude and do without?
I don’t know where the sweet spot for minimalism lies, but no doubt it’s on the side of having less than you want.
Everyone in the modern world saves incredible amounts of time.
We wake in bedsheets we didn’t weave, In a house we didn’t build, Out of timber we didn’t cut.
We drink water we didn’t fetch, Eat food we didn’t grow, And travel great distances without walking.
We send messages written by predictive text, Set in letters we didn’t scribe, Around the world, no pigeons, foot messengers, nor even paper.
Yet we feel we need more time.
I’m trying to practice time gratitude. When I send an email, order delivery from my phone, or even cook a meal at home, I take a moment to acknowledge how little time it takes to meet my needs.
And instead of thinking what to do next, I use that extra time to breathe.
Aphorism: “How many a man has dated a new era in his life from the reading of a book!” —Henry David Thoreau
Cool: I have found a blue light therapy panel (Amazon) to be effective in minimizing jet lag, and, when I lived in Chicago, SAD.
Being busy doesn’t mean you can’t create. In fact, it can be an asset.
The more you have to do, the more there are little moments throughout your day that can lead to big breakthroughs.
If you pay attention to your thoughts, you’ll notice lots of little ideas. It’s easy to tell them to go away so you can focus on what you’re doing. That you don’t have the time to pursue them.
But all it takes is to jot them down. If not in the moment, when you have a moment.
Most won’t be worth much, but the more you do this, the more ideas will come. If you ignore all these thoughts they’ll get buried in your subconscious and will be harder to notice.
But occasionally, an idea will stick with you. You might not have the time and energy to pursue your full vision, but maybe a smaller version of that vision.
In this way, you’re placing small bets with your attention. Once in a while, a bet will hit it big.
Attention pays.
Aphorism: “Salvation often lies not in the writer’s style but in some odd fact he or she was able to discover.” —William Zinsser
Cool: I do not yet have a Tom Bihn backpack but damn, they are well-designed.
In the early days of the internet, some guy serially published chapters of a story on his website.
Over the years, he published his full novel, got a book deal, and John Dies at the End was made into a movie, starring Paul Giamatti.
He didn’t want his co-workers to know. So all along, he called himself David Wong.
Keeping your creative and professional lives separate is just one use of a pseudonym.
Pseudonyms are also useful to:
Separate yourself from fear of the criticism you’ll receive.
Protect your privacy.
Prevent one style of work from defining your personal brand.
Embody a different persona.
Just give people an easier name to remember.
If you’re having trouble shipping, ask yourself if a pseudonym would help.
Few wannabe creators consider this. Which is ironic, because pseudonyms, pen names, stage names, alter-egos, etc. are common and even the norm in many art forms.
Pseudonyms are so common, it feels futile to even list examples, but:
J. K. Rowling writes crime novels as Robert Galbraith
Actor Donald Glover is also known as rapper Childish Gambino and DJ, mcDJ
Nobody even knows who street artist Banksy is!
I’ve had and still have pseudonyms. I’ve used them to create separate personal brands, cut my teeth in art forms in which I have little confidence, and give myself the creative freedom to embody a different persona.
If I could start over, you’d probably be reading an email from someone other than David Kadavy. I think it’s no coincidence many successful writers in my genre have names much easier to remember, spell, and pronounce: James Clear, Mark Manson, Ryan Holiday, and Joanna Penn are all real names, AFAIK. But damn those are good names.
Nobody says you have to use your pen name forever. David Wong announced in 2020 that he would re-publish everything under his real name, Jason Pargin.
Pick a pseudonym. Use a fake name generator if you have to. Then, start shipping.
Book:The Shadow Drawing (Amazon) explains why Leonardo da Vinci was not a “dual genius.”
Cool:Dextro Energy (Amazon) is convenient dextrose candies that work great for fueling workouts on a targeted keto diet.
Perfectionism and patience look similar, but are different.
Perfectionists and the patient both take a long time to finish what they start. They both scrap progress, start over, go down dead ends, and make lots of tweaks in the last 10%.
But the patient eventually ship. The perfectionists never do.
The patient understand good work takes time. They know not all ideas and approaches will work, much of their exploration will go to waste, and the finishing touches take longer than expected.
When the patient ship, they know it’s not perfect. Yet that’s what stops the perfectionists. To them, to ship imperfect work means they’re imperfect – and that problem goes deep.
Perfectionists pursue the perfect, while the patient pursue the optimal.
“Perfect” assumes you have unlimited time and money. “Optimal” accepts you don’t.
Aphorism: “I write one page of masterpiece to ninety one pages of shit.” —Ernest Hemingway
I was interviewing a Love Mondays reader who is a successful contemporary artist. She said as much as she doesn’t want to think of herself as someone who doesn’t finish things, neither does she want to think of herself as someone who does.
She explained that when she teaches someone to draw, oftentimes, “five minutes into it, there’s something amazing there, but they don’t see it.”
We’ve all been in a conversation that started out enjoyable, but went on too long. The other person goes on about something that doesn’t interest you. Or you walk away feeling good but later realize you talked about yourself the whole time.
In your creative work, it’s easy to get too focused on arriving at a pre-conceived result. You need to stop from time to time and look at what you’ve got. Otherwise, that great drawing you have at five minutes may turn into a muddled mess by ten.
Creative work is a conversation. Be a good conversation partner. After you speak, you need to listen.
Aphorism: “When talented people write badly it’s generally for one of two reasons: Either they’re blinded by an idea they feel compelled to prove or they’re driven by an emotion they must express.” —Robert McKee
Cool:Fireflies.ai automatically joins your video meetings and writes transcripts, summaries, action items, and more.
Best, David P.S. Can I interview you about finishing projects, for my next book? Book a call.
