Last week, I talked about how to recognize when it’s time to leave your organization. If they’re telling you:
Then it’s time to go.
It sounds so simple, doesn’t it?
Of course, quitting your job never is.
One of my favorite interviews of all time (and thanks to the handcrafted Aux Hook-up in my car, I listen to many) is Bryan Elliot’s interview of Seth Godin, for the Icarus Deception.
In the interview, Seth says — and I’m going to paraphrase here:
“The excuse that, ‘My boss doesn’t give me permission’ is a bad one. Why should he? You’re not asking for permission, what you’re saying is, ‘Can I go do this thing, and if it works, I’m going to take all the credit, and if it doesn’t, you’ll take all the blame.’ Who would agree to that?”
At the theory level, the logic is simple. But when it’s time for application, the “logic” contends with “emotion”: pride, ego, embarrassment, anger… all of which overwhelm logic in half-a-second.
Let me tell you a story of when this overwhelm happened to me…
While working for a literary management company, I met with a young man who was doing interesting work in the music space, bringing more of a performance art component to EDM, with custom built hardware and software.
He was brilliant and motivated. At the moment, there wasn’t an immediate business opportunity for either of us. I didn’t expect that, though. The meeting was about getting on each other’s radar, should an opportunity present itself.
I took the story of the meeting into a staff meeting — not as a hard sell, but a soft pitch.
Sorta a “hey, met this guy who’s doing really interesting work in this space…”
My boss at the time thought very little of the idea:
I can’t say I wasn’t embarrassed. And angry.
He called me out in a staff meeting… in front of everyone.
As far as I could tell, the extent of my indiscretion was meeting someone — on my own time — that may pan out to nothing (as these things often do).
My immediate gut (read: emotional) response was: “fine, he doesn’t want to ever hear any new ideas, then I will never bring in any. We’ll keep using tactics that worked in the 80s and early 90s.
Later (when I cooled off) I remembered Seth’s words: Don’t ask for permission to do interesting work.
To which I’d like to add the corollary:
Don’t seek validation, either. Seeking validation means you’re not sure if you’re working on the right problem. Without the right problem, what good is any solution you propose?
Do the work. Solve the problem. Then show them the results.
Yes, this is tricky. If you screw up, then it’s on you… which is the whole point, isn’t it?
To which I can only offer:
Also, build reversibility into any solution you present:
No, no organization is going to tell you to do these things.
Why would they give you deniability?
You’re responsible for picking and choosing your own risks.
But with that said…
If you’re with a company that actively tells you: “don’t try new things, don’t take risks, toe the line, do what worked before…”
What are you still doing there?
Photo Credit: JD’na
For an extended stretch of time two years ago, I had A LOT of time to write.
It’s called “unemployed.”
I had finished a Production Coordinator job. I wasn’t great at being a Production Coordinator — you in fact, need to know things about Production in order to Coordinate — which I did not.
Nor did I possess a passion for physical production.
So no surprise THERE when I wasn’t asked to join the next project.
(The indignation of some interns and temps, when they’re not asked to stay on for full employment, baffles me. If they didn’t try to keep you on, or help secure your next gig — ask yourself: “Was I any good?”)
To make money, I took a gig to independently cast a vanity reel — which required hunching over the 10-inch display on my Acer netbook and using Actor’s Access for 6 hours a day.
That paid $300. So at least I covered my rent for the month (yeah, I was living light).
Afterwards, I interned at a Youtube channel network, where I filled the hours by watching Pokemon battles and MineCraft.
That lasted three days, when I realized that I was happier waiting tables. I’d rather bring over plates of Pad See Ew and refills of Diet Cokes with lemons for a 12% tip than watch another Pokemon Platinum video of a Noctowl using “Tackle” against a Vulcan.
That’s what I did. I quit the internship, and went down the street and got my old job back.
All the while, I took most of the morning to write scripts and blog posts. Much of that writing didn’t go anywhere, but I was putting in my time.
The depression I had settled into (hours on the Planet Poke Channel, then regressing back to asking people if they’d like their curry “mild” or “spicy”) made for some really uninspiring stuff.
This may not be true for other creatives. Some bask in that angst to fuel their creativity sensibilities.
That’s just not me.
For me… Happiness good.
Sue me.
That was two years ago. I’m in a better place now, so my writing temperament is good. (Some claim they bleed on the page every time they write. I prefer ink.)
But now there’s a lack of time.
I’m committed to different relationships (one requiring a standard of living above$300 a month, and meals consisting of more than pasta-bought-in-bulk 5-days a week).
I’ve committed to a few too many projects.
So I still hold the mornings for my creative time — starting at 5:30 a.m. on the weekdays, 8 on the weekends — but it definitely bumps heads with other commitments.
That’s the eternal battle, isn’t it? Good versus evil? The Force versus The Dark Side? Ash Ketchum vs. Gary?
I think whatever side you happen to be on at your particular juncture, the process looks the same.
If you have all the time in the world.
Or you’re struggling to squeeze off an hour of production.
Make the decision that developing your platform is important.
Find a routine. Stick to it – don’t move it for anyone.
Pick your work for the day — bird by bird, as the Lamott-expression goes.
And keep in mind building takes time.
Photo Credit: Klaus De Buysser
The second time my roommates and I hosted a poker game in Los Angeles, four people showed up to the apartment.
Three of them — including myself — lived there.
I keep a mental list of things I’m awful at:
Cooking
Making the bed
Writing long lists
Only one thing really held me back, in my career, personal life, and relationships, though.
In college, when I saw how my friend used this one strategy, it was like a strong punch of sobriety after a night of too many cheap vodka shots.
It’s effect in this year alone: I earned more money (almost a $10,000 yearly increase), created my first Hollywood tracking board, and developed a more valuable network of colleagues.
I’ll get to all that. First, though – back to the awful:
I was always awful at asking people for help or advice.
I thought everything was up to me to “figure it out.”
And that asking for help was a sign of weakness.
Plus, I had this screwed up interpretation when others asked for help. I always translated their words, “Can you help me with this?” into “Can you do this for me?” Which wasn’t fair to anyone.
There were so many arenas in which I should have asked for help, but never did:
Soccer – I never learned to strike properly, or attack with confidence. And I never asked for help.
Digital electronics – (Yeah, I was engineering geek in high school…) Rather than damage why reputation as a smart dude by asking for help, I focused on scoring well on exams over grasping the fundamentals (voltage, current, and resistance) that I never understood.
Editing – This was a recent development, in which I learned more, in editing for 4 hours sitting next to a relative expert, than 14 hours editing alone in a dark room.
Enter: my friend Joshua, who showed me it was okay to ask for help.
He’d struggle through a problem, and if he hit a block, he’d ask for guidance – from a bunch of people.
This idea blew me away: here I was refusing to ask one expert for help, and Josh would ask like 5 people!
It didn’t matter if it was help with editing a paper, navigating a juncture in his career, or relationships.
He always sought the big picture. And he knew how to do it openly and honestly. He’d say, “I’m asking a bunch of people for help. I really respect your opinion, what do you think about this situation…?”
What I noticed was this:
When he put it that way, when I saw that he worked to solve the problem himself first, my “barrier” about asking for help didn’t come crashing down.
I was more than happy to help. It made me feel good. It was a win-win.
Then, Josh would take action (note: not always following my advice. Probably for the better — but that’s not the point). He did something. And I liked being a part of his action, even if indirectly.
That’s when it clicked for me.
It was a small, but significant tweak.
This was the game changer:
We like to help people when they acknowledge the help, and take action.
Even when it’s not their advice you’re acting on.
It seems so simple but this idea blew me away.
There are so many things in the past year alone, that I couldn’t have done without asking for help.
Negotiating salary – I armed myself for two successful salary negotiations by asking my colleagues a simple question and a follow-up: “How much do you make? I’m asking people so I understand the market rate.”
Creating a Hollywood tracking board in my niche – Learning literary contracts and deal points in a vacuum is difficult, but my grasp of concepts more than doubled after I selected a few people in similar roles and asked: “Would you be interested in sitting down once a month and studying these deal points together?”
Networking – If I felt like I provided value, and genuinely connected with someone at drinks or an event, I’d ask: “Is there anyone else you think it’d be helpful that I talk to?”
Meaning, these exact words alone may not produce the same results. There’s a lot going on beneath the surface, months and years of providing value to others first.
You can’t be wearing a sign across your back, “Please Help Me!”
I still don’t ask for help enough. The difference, however is: I’m not limited by the ask.
Instead, I’m limited two things:
The time I know it takes to give back and provide value in return, and…
The scalability of my own system that prods me to give, give, give to others, first.
Asking for help, in conjunction with these two points, has been a game changer for my career and life.
What’s been your game changer? What systems or outlooks have you implemented that helped you make leaps you didn’t think possible?
Photo Credit: Donnovann
Hey dudes.
I’m still very much here – but have been working on projects that pulled me away from posting on this blog.
Will start posting again soon.
(If you want to see one of the projects that’s absorbed a lot of my time the last few months, click here to read Fighting Broke, my blog on personal finance and career advice for Hollywood assistants.)
Talk soon.
Photo Credit: Mti Abhi
There was a contract on my desk I could not get through.
Every time I sat down, fourth (fifth… sixth…) cup of coffee in hand, armed with a pen and true grit, distractions plagued me from every direction.
I felt like Macaulay Culkin in the movie MY GIRL, who gets attacked by the Avenging Bee Hive, stung a million times, and dies.
Oh. Spoiler alert.
I’d get through three sentences, then someone would ping me on instant messenger, asking if we were having a staff meeting. Or an assistant would make a scheduling snafu, and would urgently need to reschedule — for a meeting six weeks from tomorrow.
And of course, the daily barrage of someone else’s phones that I answer.
By the end of the day, I’m an overcaffeinated quivering mass of “leave me the fuck alone,” and I’ve made zero headway.
Riding my bike home, I thought about the distractions, and why I couldn’t clear this contract off my list of to-do’s. It wasn’t a long agreement, but I got pulled away every time I encountered a term or some language I didn’t understand.
Somewhere on Palms and Venice, the answer struck me like an oversized Fendi bag swung by an pint-sized socialite coming out of Buchon: I wasn’t pulled away by distractions when I encountered difficult language. I encountered difficult language, then I ran away, towards the distraction.
I was a freaking electron in a parallel circuit, voltage squared off against ohm-age, and I did what physics commanded of me: I chose the path of least resistance.
I didn’t understand the contract. It was a Stage Play Adaptation Agreement. While the deal terms were analogous to book deals (e.g., “option payment non-refundable but fully recoupable” – in the publishing world, this is just called “an advance.” In the book-to-film world, this is an an “applicable option payment” — same principle, wrapped in different kinds of bacon) I still encountered jargon and structure I didn’t understand. Like:
These aren’t “difficult” questions. It’s not Elon Musk, hyperloop-level of thought, but it required some work. Instead of doing that, though, I let myself off the hook by allowing myself to be distracted.
In Hollywood, an industry of primarily soft skills (e.g., networking, story analysis, “connecting-the-dots” (understanding and leveraging the relationships between various elements)) any deep thought is our opportunity to learn tangible skills, but only if we pause the minutiae long enough to realize it.
To do that:
Photo Credit: debschi
I imagine most cyclists pump Skrillex or Sevendust through their headphones during their rides.
Currently, for me it’s a choice between Katy Perry’s new album PRISM or Seth Godin’s Medicine Ball Sessions. I chose the latter today because I can turn on the former when I get to work.
The Medicine Ball Sessions clarified this sense of urgency I’ve been having in the pit of my stomach. At one point, I attributed the urgency to my age and societal pressure and the effects of social media. I thought:
Not that these emotions and feelings weren’t real.
But they didn’t fully encompass the range of emotions I felt about my work and career.
It’s more nuanced than age
It’s subtler than how fast one can ascend the ladder in an industry.
After listening to Medicine Ball Sessions, I realized the urgency came from the speed at which entire industries rise and fall… so anytime we waste in a career space that isn’t “right” for us is dramatically heightened.
In other words, it’s not so much the race up the ladder, as much as choosing the right ladder to climb.
Here’s the part that resonated with me (transcribed with ease thanks to Transcribe, by wreally):
“The record industry was perfect. There were a lot of reasons. I’ll name a few. If I bought an LP because I liked it a lot, I would wear it out. So I’d have to buy another one.
If I loaned it to her, I don’t have it anymore, so I have to buy another one. If I have to buy another one, I have to get in my car and drive to a store.
In my car, I turn on the radio, the only thing to do in the car, and the radio, is devoted almost entirely to promoting this product, which the record industry doesn’t have to pay for, not legally anyone.
Then I get to the store, which the record industry doesn’t have to pay for, and the store has 100s or thousands of titles all in big containers, vying for my attention. So I might buy more than 1 when I’m there.
Then I get home, and my high school kid is going to the senior prom. The senior prom is not about shoes, it’s not about industrial equipment, it’s about music.
Then, I check my mail, there’s Rolling Stone magazine, all about the music industry.
Then I turn on MTV, an entire cable network devoted to this perfect industry. Oh, and if you want to start a music career, you need $100K to get into a recording studio because there’s limited means of production, you can’t afford that so you better do a deal with a record company if you want distribution through Tower Records.
You can’t do that by yourself, you better have a record label to do it, and radio, and on and on. The record label gets to keep all that money.
There’s only six or eight big record labels so it’s an oligopoly, there’s a lot of price-fixing, and its perfect…
Money, money, money. Consistent, planned. Show me the map, I know the artist will change, but the method doesn’t.
Then you all know what happened. How long did it take? 36 months? For the record industry to go from perfect to broke.
There’s more music than ever before, performed by more people than ever before, listened to more people than ever before, more widely available than ever before, but the music industry — gone. 3 years, maybe 5, that’s it. Over. That’s what happens.
Revolutions destroy the perfect, and then they enable the impossible. And it’s going to happen to your industry, whatever you do.”
We can define “right” many number of ways:
They all come back to complacency and comfort. We’re comfortable with:
We tell ourselves, why rock the boat? We’ve got a good thing going. I can take my time, because this job and this market isn’t going anywhere.
Just because we’re relevant today doesn’t make us relevant tomorrow.
The record industry proves that just because an industry is perfect yesterday doesn’t mean it won’t be a shell of its former glory tomorrow.
The world changes quickly.
If we’re already not happy with the work we’re doing, things will get worse faster than we think.
If we’re complacent to plod along, moving without urgency, how will we remain relevant in whatever version of the world that exists after the fallout?
If we’re complaining that “no one’s giving us the opportunity to succeed” but we’re not creating our own opportunities… well, why should they?
Photo Credit: serakatie
I’ve been thinking a lot about small failures lately.
In my experience, they’re more difficult to publicly face than large failures.
For example, in 2008, when my father opened the first Shogun, the idea that “this might might work” didn’t cross my mind too often. I felt like:
It’s a big risk. The economy is depressed. One out of 4 restaurants fail in their first year. That number rises, to three in 5, over the next 3 years.
We faced plenty of other obstacles:
There was an enormity to that task that made it okay if we didn’t succeed.
I followed the same logic with moving to Los Angeles and trying to start a career in Hollywood. There wasn’t much fear, because there were already so many challenges:
If things didn’t work, there was an enormity to the task that allowed me to shrug and say, “well, if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. Let’s give it a shot.”
I say this with no brag. This isn’t unique, people do it all the time with varying degrees of success.
Where it manifests and how to manage it, gets covered ad nauseum in the self-development world. Three techniques worth mentioning are:
For endeavors or projects that’d result in a big failure, these techniques are especially helpful.
On a smaller scale, however, it doesn’t work as well. Some examples:
This has been exacerbated, I feel, in part because the idea in Hollywood is that any failure is completely unacceptable. That you’re not allowed to misstep, and “assumption is the mother of all fuck ups.” When you do fail, it’s so public:
Which in turn, is further exacerbated by social media, where everyone naturally posts the good things in their life, and you begin to thinking everyone is doing better than you in their carefully crafted social presence. You begin to think you’ll be defined by this one failure.
So how do we overcome that?
What’s helped me is to find examples of others who faced public failure or criticism, and who have either addressed it, or moved on so quickly this was barely a blip on their radar. I make informal case studies of the “bigger names” out there, to grasp their mindset. Those are below:
Oprah and Arianna Huffington Ripped On in Deadline
In an article entitled DESPERATE: HuffPo and Oprah Team Up Now that barely passes for journalism, Nikki Finke reams out Oprah and Arianna Huffington for all of Hollywood to see. As Hollywood knows, Nikki never wears kid gloves, but in this article in particular, there’s an animosity that goes regular snark:
“This pathetic pairing sounds to me like an ill-conceived partnership, and it’s interesting that no mention is made of AOL which bought HuffPo last year.”
How does Oprah respond to Nikki? She doesn’t.
First she has a nervous breakdown.
Then she gets over it. And six months later, goes back to kicking ass.
Tucker Max versus Gawker
Tucker Max’s life has been fairly public. Posting stories and building a brand around all the women you’ve slept with and treated poorly will do that. He’s made the public very aware of his successes.
“I’m so far up the power law curve of book sales, dude,” Tucker told me. ”The very tip-top are J.K. Rowling and Stephen King, Stephanie Meyer, James Patterson, and Paulo Coelho. People who sell tens or hundreds of millions of books. That’s just a different game. That’s like, the Bible. They’re competing with the Bible. I’m not in the Bible tier.” (I can hear the religious among readers thinking: thank goodness!)
“I’m on the tier below that. But still, on the power curve, I’m all the way at the tip. I’m on the same tier as Tim Ferriss or Chelsea Handler or Jeanette Walls—we’re in the 2, 3, 4 million range.” — as told to Michael Ellsberg
Of course, this kind of publicity is a double-edged sword. For every success Tucker trumpeted, Gawker splashed his failures all over its front pages. It’s even created a special page on the site, breaking down this Tucker-Gawker feud to its individual campaigns.
Some of Tucker’s public failures:
Yet amidst the waft of all this dirty laundry, Tucker has marched on. He’s moved beyond his fratire brand, started a new blog, published on the Huffington Post, and getting his rebirth featured in Fortune.
Love him, hate him, admire him or loathe him – he’s taken his brunt of public failures.
And he’s still standing.
Blogger / Entrepreneur Tynan and His narcissism
Blogger Tynan Smith and his lifestyle was recently featured (favorably) in the San Francisco Gate. What followed next, he describes in his blog post, was “hundreds of comments, 95% of them negative.”
“The negativity was absolutely astounding. I could hardly believe how many people spent the time to sign up and leave vitriolic comments.”
He could have ignored the article, and all the negative comments. He could have just called everyone haters. But Tynan didn’t. He addressed the fact many people felt he was a narcissist, and even owned up to it:
“I wear a silver necklace with my name on it.”
Then he went back to programming and writing. His work went on.
An Author’s Fans Vote “No”
Blogger and Science Fiction Author Jamie Todd recently put out a survey, asking his readers if they’d be interested in him putting out a newsletter. I don’t know how many readers/subscribers he has. But 50 people voted in this survey, and the response was overwhelming “no.”
Jamie could have swept this poll under the rug. He could have pretended like it never happened. Regardless of how stoic you are, that must take an emotional toll, your readers telling you, “no, we don’t want this.”
Instead, Jamie posts the results. He says, “thanks for voting. I appreciate the feedback.”
He gets back to work, posting nearly everyday, writing thousands of words a week, and continuing his Going Paperless Series.
Ramit Sethi covers “3 Crushing Fears I Had”
Best selling author and personal finance blogger Ramit Sethi covered these 3 fears to his email subscribers. They were:
He says:
“I looked around and saw other people doing better than I was. Posting pics on FB of their fancy vacations…getting covered in the press…having more RSS readers or email subscribers or revenues…and I would start thinking, “Maybe they’re just better at this than I am.” Notice I didn’t say — they’ve practiced their skills more, or they’ve learned more strategies, or they’ve just been at it longer. No, I made it about them being a BETTER PERSON than I was.”
He continued working though, chipping away at the fears, and growing his business. It’s not something that happened overnight — he’s been working at this “blogging thing” for 8 years now.
That’s the clinical or academic term for the space that exists between “knowing” what you’re supposed to do, and actually taking action on it.
For me this space is a gulf when it comes to acknowledging the fear of failure and doing something about it. I still listen to self-development nearly everyday, but find myself tuning things out if I’ve heard it before.
I say, “yes, yes, I’ve heard this before, let me find a new tactic.” But the value is in actively reflecting on the fears. This is work. It’s not something that happens when you half-ass it.
Reading and learning new case studies, though, and seeing how others approach their fear of small failure helps. It provides different lenses to see that fear, often so insidious, to spot it and face it down long enough to get back to the work we’ve set out to do.
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Photo Credit: epSos.de, Manuel Valadez Acuña
I think understanding context is crucial for education and self-development.
An example: my current employer, Intellectual Property Group is a successor to the H.N. Swanson Literary Agency, one of the greatest Hollywood Lit Agencies of all time.
Swanie represented some of the greatest literary heavyweights: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Raymond Chandler, James M. Cain, etc.
The foreword to his memoir, SPRINKLED WITH RUBY DUST, was written by client, the late great Elmore Leonard.