Podcast
Love Your Work
Hosted by David Kadavy · EN
Love Your Work is the intellectual playground of David Kadavy, bestselling author of three books – including Mind Management, Not Time Management – and former design advisor to Timeful – a Google-acquired productivity app.
Love Your Work is where David shows you how to be productive when creativity matters, and make big breakthroughs happen in your career as a creator. Dig into the archives for insightful conversations with Dan Ariely, David Allen, Seth Godin, James Altucher, and many more.
"David is an underrated writer and thinker. In an age of instant publication, he puts time, effort and great thought into the content and work he shares with the world." —Jeff Goins, bestselling author of Real Artists Don't Starve
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[NOTE] My next book: Finish What Matters Preview Edition at kdv.co/fwmpre
Jan 1200:02:41Tap to summarizeHello, Love Your Work listeners, those who still have this pod in your feeds – thank you for staying subscribed! I do not have a new episode for you, per se, though I've certainly thought about making new episodes, the bandwidth hasn't been there, because I have been long and hard at work on my next book, Finish What Matters! In short, you can buy the preview edition at https://kdv.co/fwmpre, but also let me tell you about it. Yes, after all the talk I made on this show about the subject of finishing projects, after all the mini episodes I published with various ideas such as the project halfpipe, the foundation effect, and Leonardo and Raphael, I finally have something ready to show you. Ironically, it has taken me a very long time to finish – or at least get close to finishing – this book. I thought I had the answers going into this one, but after digging deep into why projects – creative projects specifically – don't get finished, I have learned so much. Basically, there are really good reasons we don't always finish what matters. The creative process is open-ended, some of us have more open-ended cognitive styles, and we just don't know if finishing is going to be worth it! So it's no wonder we succumb to shiny object syndrome and struggle with motivation, and second-guess ourselves when we receive criticism. I have surveyed you in the hundreds, I've interviewed you by the dozens. I have studied the great creators throughout history, I have traveled to Italy to immerse myself in the worlds of Leonardo and Raphael. Most important, I have locked myself in a cabin in the mountains, pondering these obstacles to finishing, and what to do about them. And now, after five years of work, I have something ready to show you. I have a publicly announced schedule of deadlines by which I will deliver to you every chapter. I have on the calendar a lecture series through which to share these concepts, and even a small-group finishing cohort to help a handful of you get a project done in Q1. So if you are interested, please visit kdv.co/fwmpre to learn more and buy the Preview Edition. This is the third and FINAL book in the Getting Art Done series, which I started ten years ago, and which has taught me so much I can't believe. I cannot wait to share it with you, and I can hardly wait to speak to you again here or on some other podcast or some other podcast-like-thing at some date in the future. Thank you, happy new year, and here's to you getting it done in Q1.
Transcribe →308. Why I Quit Podcasting
Aug 10, 202300:11:12Tap to summarizeAfter nearly eight years of the Love Your Work podcast, I'm quitting. Here's why, and What's Next. Podcasting is a bad business This is not the immediate reason I'm quitting, but it is at the root: Podcasting is a bad business. When the indirect benefits of an activity run out, it's hard to keep doing it if it's not making money. I realized long ago podcasting is a bad business, but I kept going for other reasons. I'll explain why in a bit. Though I didn't start my podcast with dollar signs in my eyes, I did at least hope I would grow to earn money doing it. I've earned about $32,000 in the eight-year history of Love Your Work. More than half of that has been from Patreon supporters, many of whom support for reasons other than the podcast. During that time, I've spent: $1,008 on hosting $11,749 on assistance with editing and publishing $241 on equipment And some other expenses, for a total of about $13,000 In raw numbers, I've made a "profit" on the podcast. But, as I broke down in my latest income report, my "wage" was about $6 an hour. My podcast comprised about 5% of my income over these eight years, and took much more than that portion of my time and energy. Of course, I don't think about whether the podcast was worth it in terms of an hourly rate. Creative work happens in Extremistan, not Mediocristan, and I've made massive life choices to be free to explore creatively without worrying so much what I'm earning in the short-term. Ways to make money podcasting But there are many different ways to make a podcast a solid business, and none of them worked for me, for various reasons. Here are some of these business models, as they apply to the "thought-leader" space (I'll ignore the more entertainment/infotainment space that podcasts like Gimlet's inhabit). Be so massively famous, you can pick-and-choose advertisers, while demanding a lot of money. This is where Tim Ferriss and Joe Rogan are. They both started with large platforms, and applied whatever talents that helped them earn those platforms to make their podcasts huge. After more than fifteen years as a creator, I have a modest platform, but orders of magnitude smaller. Build a "content machine" that manufactures ad slots. I won't name names, but you've heard these podcasts. They're formulaic and don't seem to discern much who they have as a guest, nor what sponsors they accept. This business model is why my inbox is still full of pitches – they think I actually want more guests, because more guests would mean more ad slots. It takes a very rare set of circumstances for me to be excited to interview someone. Share information that directly helps people make money. If you have tactical and actionable information that's useful to professionals in a specific industry, you can charge for premium podcast content. I'm not as interested in the tactical and actionable as I am in the abstract and exploratory. Cover a niche topic. If you have a leading podcast about a very specific topic, advertisers within that niche will be willing to pay high rates to reach that audience. I didn't want to build my podcast according to a specific topic – more on that later. Have a "back-end" business. If you have a thriving consulting business, or training programs to sell, you can attract more clients and customers through your podcast. As I wrote in my ten-year reflections, "I want to make a living creating. I don't want creating to be merely a marketing strategy for other things. Is that completely insane?" I flirted with success in a few of these business models. Early on, I hoped my podcast would be famous enough to pick and choose advertisers at high rates. For a while, it looked like I had a chance. I was approached by a podcast network, and I had some reputable advertisers such as LinkedIn, Skillshare, Casper, Audible, Pittney Bowes, and University of California. Various times, I thought I was on the cusp of my "big break" – such as when Love Your Work was featured on the Apple Podcasts home screen. But the more I tried to go the "get famous" route, the louder the siren-song of the "content machine" route got. There were plenty of opportunities to do "interview swaps" with hosts I wasn't interested in interviewing. There were a few advertisers that had money, but whose products felt sleazy. Joining a podcast network would have pressured me to crank out content even if I didn't feel like it. There was (and still is) the never-ending stream of pitch emails for guests. I had too much wax in my ears to go the "content machine" route. Not included in my lifetime revenue-estimates for Love Your Work is money I made through the "back-end business" route. I was somewhat comfortable with this model, but I haven't made a course in years, as I've been focused on writing books. And as bad a business as people say writing books is, it's better than making a podcast. The podcast has helped me sell books in more ways than one. One way is that people who listened to the podcast bought my books. The other way is, making my podcast helped me write my books. This brings me to the reason I kept making my podcast, even after I realized it wasn't a good business. Make for what making makes you In my sixteen years experimenting with different business models as an independent creator, I've settled on one thing that works: Make for what making makes you. If making a podcast, writing a book, sending a weekly newsletter – you name it – merely makes you money, and doesn't make you who you want to be, what's the point? Sure, sometimes you don't feel like creating, and you do it anyway. Yes, sometimes you pick one project over another because you think it will be more lucrative. But you can only redirect the river that is your creativity so much before it overflows and returns to its natural path. I learned from my guests When I started Love Your Work, and was struggling to make it big enough to work with an ad model, even if I wasn't bringing in lots of ad revenue, I was still connecting with and learning from my guests. It was an incredible privilege to have in-depth conversations with people like Seth Godin, Elise Bauer, and David Allen. It was like having my own personal advisory board of heroes. Talking to them helped me learn how to go off the beaten path and find my calling. I was able to find patterns in their stories that I could apply to my own life and career. I would be a completely different person today if I hadn't had those conversations. It was time to explore But there came a point when doing interviews was no longer serving me the way it once had. It was when I had gained the confidence – thanks to my previous guests – to explore further my own ideas. That's when I stopped interviewing guests, so I'd have more time to explore. Love Your Work shifted from my personal advisory board to my personal sounding board – a sort of "open mic," where I fleshed out ideas. I got to see how it felt to effortfully explore each idea. I got to hear how they sounded when I read them aloud. I got to feel how they resonated (or didn't) with others. It helped me write my books A couple years after I started Love Your Work, I started writing a book called Getting Art Done. Getting Art Done turned out to be three books, two of which I've published. Love Your Work has been there to help me explore the ideas in these books. The Heart to Start was full of conversations from my early guests, and came from my very real struggles in gaining the confidence to take my ideas seriously enough to pursue them. Mind Management, Not Time Management came from my very real struggles to harness my creative energy and push my ideas forward. As I work on the final book in the Getting Art Done trilogy, Finish What Matters, I'm asking myself, What struggle does this book come from? Clearly, I've finished a lot of creative work: three books, over two-hundred consecutive weekly newsletters, and over three-hundred episodes of this podcast. But as I've dwelt on that final word in the title, matters, I'm asking myself if I'm really working on what matters? Love Your Work and Getting Art Done have been an exploration in creative productivity. But at some point, writing about Resistance becomes a form of Resistance. I don't feel I've reached that point yet, but I don't want to. If I'm going to learn enough to write Finish What Matters, I have to really test my ideas of what matters. I've probably explored enough ideas, through Love Your Work, that I want to develop further in Finish What Matters. But for the time being, I need space to explore what matters. That's the biggest reason I'm quitting Love Your Work. I had considered doing so in th...
Transcribe →307. A.I. Can't Bake
Jul 27, 202300:09:21Tap to summarizeYou've probably heard that, in a blind taste test, even experts can't tell between white and red wine. Even if this were true – and it's not – it wouldn't matter. I was in Rome last month, visiting some Raphael paintings to research my next book, and stopped by the Sistine Chapel. I've spent a good amount of time studying what Michelangelo painted on that ceiling. There are lots of high-resolution images on Wikipedia. But seeing a picture is nothing like the experience of seeing the Sistine Chapel. You've invested thousands of dollars and spent fifteen hours on planes. You're jet-lagged and your feet ache from walking 20,000 steps. You're hot. When you enter, guards order you to keep moving, so you won't block the door. They corral you to the center, and you can finally look up. When you hear wine experts can't tell between white and red wine, you imagine the following: Professional sommeliers are blindfolded, and directed to taste two wines. They then make an informed guess which is white, and which is red. In this imaginary scenario, they get it right half the time – as well as if they had flipped a coin. If it were true wine experts couldn't tell between white and red wine, the implication would be that the experience of tasting wine is separate from other aspects of the wine. That the color, the shape of the glass, the bottle, the label, and even the price of the wine are all insignificant. That they all distract from the only thing that matters: the taste of the wine. There's some psychophysiological trigger that gets pulled when you tilt your head back. Maybe it stimulates your pituitary gland. When you have your head back and are taking in the images on the Sistine Chapel ceiling, you feel vulnerable. (You literally are vulnerable. You can't see what's going on around you. You'd be easy to physically attack.) What you see is overwhelming. As you try to focus your attention on some detail, some other portion of the imagery calls out and redirects your attention. This happens again and again. After a while, your neck needs a rest, and you return your gaze to eye-level. And this is almost as cool as the ceiling: You see other people with their heads back, their eyes wide, mouths agape, hands on hearts, tears in eyes. You hear languages and see faces from all over the world. You realize they all, too, have invested thousands of dollars and spent fifteen hours on planes. They, too, are jet-lagged and hot and have walked 20,000 steps. You can look at pictures of the Sistine Chapel ceiling on the internet. You can experience it in VR. In many ways, this is better than going to the Sistine Chapel. You can take as much time as you want, and look as close as you want. You don't have to spend thousands of dollars and fifteen hours on a plane, take time off work, or even crane back your neck. But seeing the Sistine Chapel ceiling on the internet or even VR is only better than seeing it in person, in the way that a spoonful of granulated sugar when you're starving is better than a hypothetical burger in another iteration of the multiverse. We've seen an explosion of AI capabilities in recent months. That has a lot of people worried about what it means to be a creator. Why do we need humans to write, for example, if ChatGPT can write? The reason ChatGPT's writing is impressive is the same reason there's still a place for things created by humans. Anyone old enough to have been on the internet in the heyday of America Online in the 1990s will remember this: When you were in a chat room, most the conversations were about being in a chat room: How long have you been on the internet? Isn't the internet cool? What other chat rooms do you like? Part of the appeal of the question "ASL?" – Age, Sex, Location? – was marveling over the fact you were chatting in real-time with a stranger several states away. Or maybe you remember when Uber or Lyft first came to your town. For the first year or two, likely every conversation you had with a driver was about how long they had been driving, about how quickly the service had grown in your town, which is better – Uber or Lyft?, or which nearby cities got which services first. The first few months ChatGPT was out, it was seemingly the only thing anyone on the internet talked about. But it wasn't because ChatGPT's writing was amazing. ChatGPT is a bad writer's idea of a good writer. It was because of the story: Wow, my computer is writing! Now that much of the novelty of ChatGPT has worn off, many of us are falling into the Trough of Disillusionment on the Gartner Hype Cycle. We're realizing ChatGPT is like a talking dog: It's impressive the dog can appear to talk, but it's not talking – it's just saying the words it's been taught. ChatGPT is very useful in some situations, but not as many as we had originally hoped. What made us talk about the internet while on the internet, talk about Uber while in Ubers, and talk about ChatGPT while chatting with ChatGPT was the story. Once the story behind the internet or Uber wore off, we started to appreciate them for their own utility. Part of what's cool about seeing the Sistine Chapel ceiling in VR is that – we're seeing it in VR. But even if that weren't impressive, what would still be impressive about the paintings would be more than just that they're amazing paintings. It's incredible to us a human could paint such a massive expanse. We think about the stories and myths of Michelangelo, up on that scaffolding, painting in isolation. Part of our appreciation of the Sistine Chapel ceiling lies outside the ceiling itself. While marveling at it, we can't help but think of Michelangelo's other masterpieces, such as the David or the Pietà. Lloyd Richards spent fourteen years writing Stone Maidens, and had almost no sales for decades. Suddenly, he sold 65,000 copies in a month. He was interviewed on the TODAY show, and got a book deal with a major publisher. How did he do it? His daughter made a TikTok account. The first video showed Lloyd at his desk, and explained what a good dad he was, how hard he had worked on Stone Maidens, and how great it would be if he made some sales. Then the #BookTok community did the rest. Stone Maidens is apparently a good book. But it's no better today than it was all those years it didn't sell. Most the comments on Lloyd's TikTok account – which now has over 400,000 followers – aren't about what a great book Stone Maidens is. They're about how Lloyd seems like such a nice guy, or how excited each commenter is to have contributed to his success. The study that started the myth that wine experts can't taste the difference between white and red wine didn't show that. The participants in the study literally weren't allowed to describe the two wines the same way – they couldn't use the same word for one as the other. It wasn't blindfolded – it was a white wine versus the same wine, dyed red. The study wasn't about taste at all: Participants weren't allowed to taste the wine – they were only allowed to smell. And wine experts? That depends on your definition of "expert". They were undergraduate students, studying wine. They knew more than most of us, but were far from the top echelon of wine professionals. Most damning for this myth was that the same study casually mentions doing an informal blind test: The success rate of their participants in distinguishing the taste of white versus red wine: 70%. That this myth is false shouldn't detract from the point that even if it were true, it wouldn't matter. What the authors of this study found was not that wine enthusiasts couldn't tell between white and red wine, but that the appearance of a wine as white or red shaped their perceptions of the smell of the wine. Once you bake a cake, you can't turn it back into flour, sugar, butter, and eggs. You can't extract the taste of a wine from the color, the bottle, your mental image of where the grapes were grown and how the wine was made, or even the occasion for which you bought the wine. Something made by an AI can be awesome, either because it's really good at doing what it's supposed to, or because you appreciate it was made by an AI. Something made by a human is often awesome because of the story of the human who made it, and the story you as a human live as you interact with it. If you want to be relevant in the age of AI, learn how to bake your story into the product. Because AI can't bake. Image: Figures on a Beach by Louis Marcoussis About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter <a href="h...
Transcribe →306. Summary: The Triumph of Doubt by David Michaels
Jul 13, 202300:17:30Tap to summarizeWe trust the food we eat, the drinks we drink, and the air we breathe are safe. That in case they're unsafe, someone is working to minimize our exposure, or at least tell us the risks. In The Triumph of Doubt, former head of OSHA David Michaels reveals how companies fight for their rights to sell harmful products, expose workers to health hazards, and pollute the environment. They do it by manufacturing so-called "science." Most this science is built not upon proving they're not causing harm, but by doing whatever they can to cast doubt. Here, in my own words, is a summary of The Triumph of Doubt: Dark Money and the Science of Deception. Products we use every day cause harm Chances are you've cooked on a pan coated with Teflon. Teflon is one of many polyfluoroalkyl substances, or PFAS. When introduced in the 1940s, they were considered safe. We now know they're linked with high cholesterol, poor immune function, cancer, obesity, birth defects, and low fertility. PFAS, it turns out, have such a long half-life, they're called "forever chemicals." PFAS can now be found in the blood of virtually all residents of the United States, and have been found in unsafe levels worldwide – in rainwater. You've probably heard that, in moderation, alcohol is actually good for you. But even one drink a day leads to higher overall mortality risk. More than one drink, greater risk of cardiovascular disease and cancer. Alcohol is a causal factor in 5% of deaths worldwide – about 3 million a year. 13.5% of deaths between ages 20–39 are alcohol-related. If you're in pain after an injury or surgery, your doctor might prescribe for you an opioid. But the rise in opioid addiction is responsible for the first drop in U.S. life expectancy in more than two decades. It's sent shockwaves throughout society. It's helped launch the epidemics of fentanyl and heroin overdoses, and the number of children in foster care in West Virginia, for example, rose 42% in four years. You might love to watch professional football. But NFL players are nineteen times more likely to develop neurological disorders, and thirty percent could develop Alzheimer's or dementia from taking so many hits. The "product defense" industry sows doubt How have they done it? How have companies been able to manufacture and sell products that cause so much harm, for so long? They do it by defending their products, when the safety of those products are questioned. On the surface, that's not so bad. But besides lying and deliberately deceiving, they abuse society's trust in so-called "science," and our lack of understanding of how much we risk when we move forward while still in doubt. The tobacco industry is a pioneer of product defense There's an entire industry that helps companies defend their products from regulation: It's called, appropriately, product defense. The tobacco industry is most-known for its product defense. In 1953, John W. Hill of the PR firm Hill & Knowlton convinced the tobacco industry to start – one floor below his office in the Empire State Building – the Tobacco Industry Research Committee (TIRC). The TIRC was supposed to do rigorous scientific research to understand the health effects of smoking, but mostly they just attacked existing science, doing what they could to sow doubt. Just a few years earlier, in 1950, a study had found heavy smokers were fifty times as likely as nonsmokers to get lung cancer. With the help of the TIRC, it would take a long time for these health risks to influence public policy. About thirty years later, most states had restricted smoking in some public places such as auditoriums and government buildings. Smoking had proliferated in American culture when cigarettes had been provided in soldiers' rations in WWI. Michaels describes one surgeon who, in 1919, made sure not to miss an autopsy of a man who had died of lung cancer, because it was the chance of a lifetime. He didn't see another case of lung cancer for seventeen years, then saw eight within six months. All eight had started smoking while serving in the war. Today, more than a century after cigarettes were widely introduced, we've finally seen a massive reduction in smoking in the U.S. We can fly on planes and go to restaurants and even bars, without being exposed to secondhand smoke. The sugar industry has been at it even longer Predating the product defense efforts of the tobacco industry is actually the sugar industry. The Sugar Research Foundation was started in 1943. Scientific evidence first linked sugar with heart disease in the 1950s. In 1967, as Dr. Robert Lustig told us, Harvard scientists published in the New England Journal of Medicine an article blaming fat rather than sugar for heart disease. Fifty years later UCSF researchers discovered the scientists had been funded by the Sugar Research Foundation – which they hadn't disclosed. Even more misleadingly, they had disclosed funding that actually made them look more impartial – from the dairy industry. Companies and industries set up "astroturfing" organizations The Sugar Research Foundation and the Tobacco Industry Research Committee are are early examples of "astroturfing" organizations. This tactic of the product defense industry involves setting up organizations with innocent- or even charitable-sounding names, then doing low-quality research to defend a company or industry's interests. The American Council for Science and Health has published articles opposing regulation of mercury emissions, and attacked science finding harm in consumption of sugar and alcohol. When the National Football League was first looking into the effects of playing their sport, they formed the MTBI. the "M" in MTBI gave away their stance: TBI stands for Traumatic Brain Injuries, and this committee formed for finding the effects of brain injuries was called the Mild Traumatic Brain Injuries committee. The alcohol industry set up the Alcoholic Beverage Medical Research Foundation. The first board of directors included Peter Stroh, William K. Coors, and August A. Busch III. Their first president, Thomas B. Turner, was former dean of Johns Hopkins University Medical School, a tie of which they made good use in promoting their agenda – more on that in a bit. The American Pain Foundation ran campaigns to make pain medication more widely available for veterans, running ads reminding patients of their "right" to pain treatment. Astroturfing organizations are funded by "Dark Money" Astroturfing organizations are funded by so-called "Dark Money". In other words, they do whatever they can to hide where their funding comes from, lest their biases become obvious. The American Council for Science and Health claims much of their funding comes from private foundations, but investigative reports have found 58% of it coming straight from industry, and that many of those private foundations have ties to corporations. Leaked documents show a huge list of corporate donors including McDonald's, 3M, and Coca-Cola. The NFL's MTBI committee's papers included a statement saying, "none of the Committee members has a financial or business relationship posing a conflict of interest." Yet the committee consisted entirely of people on the NFL's payroll: team physicians, athletic trainers, and equipment managers. Documents collected by the New York Times revealed that administrators at the The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism wanted to do a randomized clinical trial on the effects of alcohol. To fund the study, they went to industry, calling it "a unique opportunity to show that moderate alcohol consumption is safe." They were going into the study with the conclusions already in mind, saying, "one of the important findings will be showing that moderate drinking is safe." Several companies pledged nearly $68 million toward the $100 million budget. As part of the National Institutes of Health – a federal organization – the NIAAA was pitching this as a chance for the alcohol industry to use a government-funded study to prove their product was safe. Money directly from alcohol manufacturers was to be routed through the NIH Foundation, since it's illegal for private companies to fund government studies. When the Senate Finance Committee began investigating ties between the American Pain Foundation and pharmaceutical companies, the APF quickly dissolved, apparently knowing what would be found otherwise. Besides private foundations, straight-up lying, and routing money through a federal foundation, another way of keeping money "dark" is by taking advantage of attorney-client privilege. By having the law firm pay accomplices, even if there's a lawsuit, the documents are private. Using connections and flawed science to manufacture pseudo-events When corporations do get studies published about the risks of using their products, they're often low-quality studies. If they don't deliberately conceal their findings, they often use their connections to create what are essentially pseudo-events to prop up their flawed conclusions. Internal documents from DuPont show they knew the PFAS in Teflon was a problem. In 1970, they found it in their factory worker's blood. In 1981, 3M told them it caused birth defects in rats, and DuPont's own workers' children had birth defects at a high rate. In 1991, DuPont set an internal safety limit of 1 ppb. Meanwhile, they found a local water district had three times...
Transcribe →305. Hedgehogs and Foxes
Jun 29, 202300:12:07Tap to summarizeAccording to philosopher Isaiah Berlin, people think in one of two different ways: They're either hedgehogs, or foxes. If you think like a hedgehog, you'll be more successful as a communicator. If you think like a fox, you'll be more accurate. Isaiah Berlin coined the hedgehog/fox dichotomy (via Archilochus) In Isaiah Berlin's 1953 essay, "The Hedgehog and the Fox," he quotes the ancient Greek poet, Archilochus: The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one thing. Berlin describes this as "one of the deepest differences which divide writers and thinkers, and, it may be, human beings in general." How are "hedgehogs" and "foxes" different? According to Berlin, hedgehogs relate everything to a single central vision. Foxes pursue many ends, often unrelated or even contradictory. If you're a hedgehog, you explain the world through a focused belief or area of expertise. Maybe you're a chemist, and you see everything as chemical reactions. Maybe you're highly religious, and everything is "God's will." If you're a fox, you explain the world through a variety of lenses. You may try on conflicting beliefs for size, or use your knowledge in a wide variety of fields to understand the world. You explain things as From this perspective, X. But on the other hand, Y. It's also worth considering Z. The seminal hedgehog/fox essay is actually about Leo Tolstoy Even though this dichotomy Berlin presented has spread far and wide, his essay is mostly about Leo Tolstoy, and the tension between his fox-like tendencies and hedgehog-like aspirations. In Tolstoy's War and Peace, he writes: In historic events the so-called great men are labels giving names to events, and like labels they have but the smallest connection with the event itself. Every act of theirs, which appears to them an act of their own will, is in an historical sense involuntary and is related to the whole course of history and predestined from eternity. In War and Peace, Tolstoy presents characters who act as if they have control over the events of history. In Tolstoy's view, the events that make history are too complex to be controlled. Extending this theory outside historical events, Tolstoy also writes: When an apple has ripened and falls, why does it fall? Because of its attraction to the earth, because its stalk withers, because it is dried by the sun, because it grows heavier, because the wind shakes it, or because the boy standing below wants to eat it? Nothing is the cause. All this is only the coincidence of conditions in which all vital organic and elemental events occur. Is Tolstoy a fox, or a hedgehog? He acknowledges the complexity with which various events are linked – which is very fox-like. But he also seems convinced these events are so integrated with one another that nothing can change them. They're "predetermined" – a "coincidence of conditions." A true hedgehog might have a simple explanation, such as that gravity caused the apple to fall. Tolstoy loved concrete facts and causes, such as the pull of gravity, yet still yearned to find some universal law that could be used to predict the future. According to Berlin: It is not merely that the fox knows many things. The fox accepts that he can only know many things and that the unity of reality must escape his grasp. And this was Tolstoy's downfall. Early in his life, he presented profound insights about the world through novels such as War and Peace and Anna Karenina. That was very fox-like. Later in his life, he struggled to condense his deep knowledge about the world and human behavior into overarching theories about moral and ethical issues. As Berlin once wrote to a friend, Tolstoy was "a fox who terribly believed in hedgehogs and wished to vivisect himself into one." Other hedgehogs and foxes in Berlin's essay Other thinkers Berlin classifies as foxes include Aristotle, Goethe, and Shakespeare. Other thinkers Berlin classifies as hedgehogs include Dante, Dostoevsky, and Plato. What does the hedgehog/fox dichotomy have to do with the animals? What does knowing many things have to do with actual foxes? What does knowing one big thing have to do with actual hedgehogs? A fox is nimble and clever. It can run fast, climb trees, dig holes, swim across rivers, stalk prey, or hide from predators. A hedgehog mostly relies upon its ability to roll into a ball and ward off intruders. Foxes tell the future, hedgehogs get credit What are the consequences of being a fox or a hedgehog? According to Phil Tetlock, foxes are better at telling the future, while hedgehogs get more credit for telling the future. In Tetlock's 2005 book, Expert Political Judgement, he shared his findings from forecasting tournaments he held in the 1980s and 90s. Experts made 30,000 predictions about political events such as wars, economic growth, and election results. Then Tetlock tracked the performances of those predictions. What he found led to the U.S. intelligence community holding forecasting tournaments, tracking more than one million forecasts. Tetlock's own Good Judgement Project won the forecasting tournament, outperforming even intelligence analysts with access to classified data. Better a fox than an expert These forecasting tournaments have shown that whether someone can make accurate predictions about the future doesn't depend upon their field of expertise, their status within the field, their political affiliation, or philosophical beliefs. It doesn't matter if you're a political scientist, a journalist, a historian, or have experience implementing policies. As the intelligence community's forecasting tournaments have shown, it doesn't even matter if you have access to classified information. What matters is your style of reasoning: Foxes make more accurate predictions than hedgehogs. Across the board, experts were barely better than chance at predicting what would or wouldn't happen. Will a new tax plan spur or slow the economy? Will the Cold War end? Will Iran run a nuclear test? Generally, it didn't matter if they were an economist, an expert on the Soviet Union, or a political scientist. That didn't guarantee they'd be better than chance at predicting what would happen. What did matter is whether they thought like a fox. Foxes are: deductive, open-minded, less-biased Foxes are skeptical of grand schemes – the sort of "theories of everything" Tolstoy had hoped to construct. They didn't see predicting events as a top-down, deductive process. They saw it as a bottom-up, inductive process – stitching together diverse and conflicting sources of information. Foxes were curious and open-minded. They didn't go with the tribe. A liberal fox would be more open to thinking the Cold War could have gone on longer with a second Carter administration. A conservative fox would be more open to believing the Cold War could have ended just as quickly under Carter as it did under Reagan. Foxes were less prone to hindsight bias – less likely to remember their inaccurate predictions as accurate. They were less prone to the bias of cognitive conservatism – maintaining their beliefs after making an inaccurate prediction. As one fox said: Whenever I start to feel certain I am right... a little voice inside tells me to start worrying. —A "fox" Hedgehogs are: deductive, close-minded, more-biased (yet more successful) As for inaccurate predictions, one simple test tracked with whether an expert made accurate predictions: a Google search. If an expert was more famous – as evinced by having more results show up on Google when searching their name – they tended to be less accurate. Think about the talking-head people that get called onto MSNBC or Fox News (pun, albeit inaccurate, not intended) to make quick comments on the economy, wars, and elections – those people. Experts who made more media appearances, and got more gigs consulting with governments and businesses, were actually less accurate at making predictions than their colleagues who were toiling in obscurity. And these experts who were more successful – in terms of media appearances and consulting gigs – also tended to be hedgehogs. Hedgehogs see making predictions as a top-down deductive process. They're more likely to make sweeping generalizations. They take the "one big thing" they know – say, being an expert on the Soviet Union – and view everything through that lens. Even if it's to explain something in other domains. Hedgehogs are more-biased about the world, and about themselves. They were more likely than foxes to remember inaccurate predictions they had made, as accurate. They were more likely to remember as inaccurate, predictions their opponents made that were accurate. Rather than change their beliefs, when presented with challenging evidence hedgehog's beliefs got stronger. Are hedgehogs playing a different game? It's tempting to take that and run with it: The close-minded hedgehogs of the world are inaccurate. Success doesn't track with skill. Tetlock is careful to caution that hedgehogs aren't always worse than foxes at telling the future. Also, there are good reasons to be overconfident in predictions. As one hedgehog political pundit wrote to Tetlock: You play a publish-or-perish game run by the rules of social science.... You are under the misapprehension that I play the same game. I don't. I fight to preserve my reputation in a cutthroat adversarial culture. I woo dumb-ass reporters who want glib sound bites. —"Hedgehog...
Transcribe →304. Too Many Ideas, Must Pick One
Jun 15, 202300:12:03Tap to summarizeMany creators and aspiring creators struggle not because they don't have enough ideas, but because they have too many. Their situations, in summary, are "Too many ideas, must pick one." Embedded in this belief are assumptions that, if challenged, can help you feel as if you have just enough ideas. In my recent AMA, I got a question I'm asked about creativity, probably more than any other: How can you pick a creative project when you have too many ideas? I've experienced, "too many ideas, must pick one," many times. I still often do. I of course answered this question in the AMA, but here I'll answer more in-depth. This is the thought process I guide myself through when I'm in the land of "too many ideas, must pick one." There are three assumptions embedded in, "too many ideas, must pick one." All these ideas are equally likely to succeed. I'm equally capable of succeeding at each of these ideas. I can't work on multiple ideas at once. Let's look at each of those. Assumption 1: "All these ideas are equally likely to succeed" If you feel you have too many ideas, you must think they're equally likely to succeed, which is the first assumption. That might not sound correct at first, but think about it. If you were starving, and only allowed to eat one of various sandwiches, you would probably pick the biggest and most calorie-rich. You might not be able to tell so easily which is the biggest and most calorie-rich sandwich. In fact, there may be other factors that play into your decision. Maybe the avocado and pork belly sandwich is the most calorie-rich, but you're craving roasted duck in this moment, and there happens to be a roasted-duck sandwich amongst the selections. While satisfying your hunger is one objective of choosing a sandwich, there are other goals in mind, such as satisfying cravings, which may compete with one another. If you have a hard time deciding amongst all the sandwiches, you expect eating one sandwich to be equally likely to succeed as eating any of the others. As with projects, "success" may come in many forms. We'll get to that in a bit. Assumption 2: "I'm equally capable of succeeding at each of these ideas" If you feel you have too many ideas, you must think you're equally capable of succeeding at each of these ideas, which is the second assumption. If assumption one weren't correct, and you didn't feel each idea were equally likely to succeed, you would probably pick the one most likely to succeed. The avocado and pork belly sandwich would clearly be more filling than peanut butter and jelly. Now, if you weren't equally capable of eating each of the sandwiches, that would make your decision easier. If you're choosing between avocado and pork belly and peanut butter and jelly, but you're a strict vegetarian, the decision is easy. Same if you're not a vegetarian, but allergic to peanuts. But since you feel each idea is equally likely to succeed, and you feel you're equally capable of succeeding at all of them, you feel you have too many ideas. As with projects, you may have little information about your capability of succeeding, which is why, for all you know, your capability to succeed is equal across all ideas. We'll untangle that later. Assumption 3: "I can't work on multiple ideas at once" If you feel you have "too many ideas," you feel they're equally likely to succeed and you're equally capable of succeeding at each of them. If you feel you "must pick one," you feel you can't work on multiple ideas at once, which is the third assumption. In our sandwich scenario, you've been told you have to pick one sandwich. If there's no one else around and the sandwiches will go to waste otherwise, you might as well taste all the sandwiches, then pick one. Or eat a little of each, until you're full. But, in that case, you wouldn't finish any of the sandwiches. Challenging the assumptions With all three of these assumptions, you're in a deadlock. Your ideas are equally likely to succeed, you're equally capable of succeeding at each, and you must pick one. Well, how can you pick one if they're all equally appealing ideas? There are five questions that can help you challenge these assumptions: What is success? What is my risk profile? What am I good at? What's necessary to succeed? What pain do I pick? Let's look at each of these. Question 1: "What is success?" Success can come in many forms. Maybe you want to make the most money possible. Maybe you want the most freedom possible. Maybe you want to do what you're most passionate about. You may feel each idea is equally likely to succeed, because each idea is likely to get a different kind of success. One sandwich will fill you up, another will taste great, still another seems like the healthy choice. If you have a clearer picture of what forms of success are more important to you than others, your many ideas will no longer be "equally likely to succeed." Question 2: "What is my risk profile?" Not only can success come in many forms, it can come with various risk profiles. One idea may have a big chance of bringing you mild success. Another idea may have a small chance of bringing you wild success. The overall expected value of each idea may be the same, but the risk profiles may be very different. Some are sure bets, some are wildcards. There are also various things you may risk in pursuing an idea. Mostly, what I call "TOM" – Time, Optionality, and Money. If you are young, healthy, and with no commitments, you have a lot of Optionality, but you might not have much Money. Making enough Money to live may take up much of your day-to-day Time. You can try a crazy idea, so long as it doesn't take up too much Time and Money. If you fail, you'll still have plenty of Optionality. Or, you might want to make some changes that reduce your Optionality, but free up your Time. For example, I live in South America, which limits my options for anything requiring physical presence, but it has reduced my need for Money, thus freeing up my Time. On the other hand, you may be in your sixties, retired after a successful career. You have plenty of Money and Time, but less Optionality than when you were in your twenties. You can only take on so many big projects in the rest of your life, and you may not have the energy you used to. But, you may feel you have nothing to lose by trying a wild idea. If you have a clearer picture of what your risk profile is, not all your ideas will seem "equally likely to succeed." Question 3: "What am I good at?" Even if all your ideas seem equally likely to fit your definition of success and fit your risk profile, you're probably better at some things than others. If you have a clear picture of what you're good at, the assumption that you're "equally capable of succeeding at each of these ideas" will no longer make sense. It may be that you don't know what you're good at, likely because you don't feel you have information to tell you what you're good at. You probably have more information available than you think. Think about times in the past when someone was impressed with or complimented you on something you did, which came to you naturally. Or, ask your friends what they think you're good at. If you really don't have information on what you're good at, relative to your many ideas, then the third assumption, "I can't work on multiple ideas at once," no longer makes sense. In this case, you can and should work on multiple ideas, to get an idea what you're good at. If you feel your ideas are too big to work on more than one, scale them back into smaller ideas. Don't fall for "The Fortress Fallacy," like I talked about in The Heart to Start. Instead of building a fortress, try building a cottage. It's important to remember that what you're good at is not necessarily what you're best at, nor what you most enjoy. This will make more sense as we answer the last two questions that challenge the three assumptions. Question 4: "What's necessary to succeed?" In reality, you probably don't have a clear picture of how likely all your ideas are to succeed, nor how capable you are of succeeding at each. You have to ask of each, What's necessary to succeed? What's necessary to succeed at an idea is usually very different from what attracts you to the idea in the first place. You may love to play music. You may even love to play music in front of an audience. But will you love driving around the country, sleeping in a van, lugging gear, and dealing with curmudgeonly AV techs at each venue? You may love the idea of signing books for adoring fans at the local Barnes & Noble. But will you love sitting in a room by yourself, writing several hours a day? It's worth noting that what most people in a domain think is necessary to succeed may not be. Lots can change in the industry, and changes in the mechanics of media can open up opportunities to succeed without doing some things that were once necessar...
Transcribe →303. Livestream/AMA: Publishing Outside Amazon, Focusing Curiosity, and Mind Management
Jun 1, 202300:54:32Tap to summarizeToday I have a special episode for you. If you missed last month's AMA/Livestream, I'm delivering it right to your ears. In this AMA, I answered questions about: What's the best self-publishing platform, and how did I publish 100-Word Writing Habit, non standard-sized, outside of Amazon? Buenos Aires versus Medellín, which is better for mind management? How to pick a creative project when you have too many ideas? What's surprised me most in the past two years? What task management software do I use for mind management? How to focus on one project when you have multiple curiosities? How to keep from falling down a research rabbit-hole? How many half-formed ideas do I have captured somewhere? There are some parts where I refer to visuals, for the best experience, watch on YouTube. About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work Apple Podcasts Overcast Spotify Stitcher YouTube RSS Email New bonus content on Patreon! I've been adding lots of new content to Patreon. Join the Patreon » Show notes: http://kadavy.net/blog/posts/four-sources-of-shiny-object-syndrome/
Transcribe →302. The Four Sources of Shiny Object Syndrome
May 18, 202300:09:00Tap to summarizeShiny object syndrome can be evidence of a problem, or it can be a normal part of the creative process. If you can identify the four sources of shiny object syndrome, you can tell the difference between being lost, or simply exploring. Three first three sources are problems The first three of the four sources of shiny object syndrome hold you back from finishing projects. They are: ambition, perfectionism, and distraction. Ambitious shiny object syndrome is starting projects that far outpace your abilities and resources. Perfectionistic shiny object syndrome is endlessly tweaking a project that could otherwise be called done. Distracted shiny object syndrome is juggling so many projects, you finish none. Before we get to the fourth source, a bit more about these three most dangerous sources. Ambitious shiny object syndrome You probably have a friend with ambitious shiny object syndrome. One day they proclaimed they were writing an epic fantasy novel. A few months later, they had dropped that and had a new plan: a feature film. A few months after that, they were starting a health-tech startup. All the while, you were shaking your head, because your friend clearly didn't have the experience or resources to take on these projects. They were writing the epic fantasy novel, yet had never written a short story. They were working on the feature film, yet had never made a short film. They were working on the health-tech startup, yet had no experience in technology, the health industry, nor raising funding. Delusional optimism can be an asset. Maybe your friend will get lucky, and one of these projects will click. They're more likely to get struck by lightning. Instead, you know what's coming when you ask how the latest project is going. They've abandoned that, and are taking on something new. Conveniently, your friend always has a great excuse for why. They find a scapegoat: You can't get a million dollars for a feature-film without a rich uncle. They claim to have never been serious about it in the first place: Oh, that silly book? I was just dabbling. More likely, they shift the conversation to another subject: Oh my god, did you see the article about the celebrity! If they had made a public prediction about their potential success in the project, you could hold them accountable. Yet they didn't, so you have to take their word for it. Interestingly, you'll never hear, That was foolish taking on that – I didn't know what I was doing! Perfectionistic shiny object syndrome Or maybe you have a friend with perfectionistic shiny object syndrome. They endlessly tweak a project that could otherwise be called done. The "shiny objects" in this case aren't other projects, but rather details within one project. Your perfectionist friend has one project they've been clinging to for years. Their novel has been through eleven revisions. It started as a memoir, but after becoming an urban-fantasy novel, it's now a thriller. They had a great-looking cover for each of these. But they've changed some details about the plot since the latest world-building workshop they traveled to attend, and they want to try a different cover designer. But before they spend money on another cover, they want to decide whether they're going to publish in places besides Amazon, because that affects the design specs. So they're taking a cohort-based course so they can ask a successful author what she thinks. There's nothing you could tell your friend to get them to ship this project. By now, they could be on their third book, having learned lessons from the previous two. Instead, they've convinced themself it has to be perfect. Distracted shiny object syndrome Or maybe you have a friend with distracted shiny object syndrome. They're taking on projects they could conceivably complete, given their skills and resources. They don't seem to suffer from perfectionism, but you can't tell, because none of their projects get anywhere near the finish line. Instead, once they make a little progress on one project, they switch to another, then another. Once their screenplay is completed for their short film, they start recording demos for their album. Once they've recorded demos for their album, they write their memoir. Once they've finished a draft of their memoir, they're writing a business plan for a non-profit. This "friend" may be you, and it certainly has been me. Shiny object syndrome is difficult to cure, because these sources are often mixed together. You may take on projects that are too ambitious, but also be distracted by the many other projects you're taking on. The perfectionism that is keeping you from shipping one project, may divert you to one overly-ambitious project, or a mixture of smaller projects. The fourth source is only natural Yet there is a fourth source of shiny object syndrome that doesn't have to keep you from finishing projects: Natural shiny object syndrome. Natural shiny object syndrome is the diversions and dead-ends that are a natural part of the creative process. When you're being creative and innovative, by definition, you are going to try some things that don't work, or need to explore new areas with which you aren't familiar. [Projects are like halfpipes.] It's fun and easy to skate into a halfpipe – to start a project. But once you're trying to skate out of the halfpipe, you've run out of momentum. It's more fun and easy to skate into a new halfpipe – to start a new project, or tweak a new aspect of the existing project. But in the natural course of being creative and innovative, you'll also start new halfpipes. When Leonardo da Vinci developed his painting style, he skated into many halfpipes. To accurately depict light and shade in his paintings, he systematically studied the way light traveled through the atmosphere, and interacted with objects. This led him into other fields, such as optics, fluid dynamics, and geometry. Leonardo da Vinci's natural shiny object syndrome In fact, one of Leonardo's most pre-eminent observations in astronomy greatly informed his painting style. He correctly theorized that the light area on the dark side of the moon was created by light reflecting from the sun, off the earth. By understanding how light worked, he was able to make paintings with an unprecedented sense of realism. The "earthshine" caused by light reflecting from the earth is the same phenomenon that causes a lighter area within the shadow on the underside of the chin of the Mona Lisa. That's caused by light being reflected off her upper chest. Okay, so Leonardo had the other sources, too Leonardo of course was an infamous procrastinator. In addition to the natural shiny object syndrome he experienced, he also had shiny object syndrome from the rest of the four sources. He had ambitious shiny object syndrome, such as when, over the course of decades, he failed twice to cast in bronze the largest-ever horse statue. He had perfectionistic shiny object syndrome, such as the fact that he never delivered the Mona Lisa to his client. He instead carried it around fifteen years, until he died, and well after it could have easily been called done. He had distracted shiny object syndrome, which caused him to run around Italy, trying to please his clients in art, architecture, and engineering. Don't fight the fourth source You can do something about most sources of shiny object syndrome. If you have ambitious shiny object syndrome, take on smaller projects. You can use the surround and conquer technique. If you have perfectionistic shiny object syndrome, simply ship your project. Recognize the Finisher's Paradox. Like Maya Angelou said, "Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better." If you have distracted shiny object syndrome, pick a project, and finish it. Build your shipping skills as you work your way up to larger projects. But even if you clear those sources away, you'll still have to live with natural shiny object syndrome. To connect ideas from disparate fields, you need to wander into them. To find out what works, you have to try some things that won't. Image: Main path and byways, by Paul Klee About Your Host, David Kadavy David Kadavy is author of Mind Management, Not Time Management, The Heart to Start and Design for Hackers. Through the Love Your Work podcast, his Love Mondays newsletter, and self-publishing coaching David helps you make it as a creative. Follow David on: Twitter Instagram Facebook YouTube Subscribe to Love Your Work <a href="https://kadavy.n...
Transcribe →301. 1,500 Words on Writing a 5-Word Tweet
May 4, 202300:12:37Tap to summarizeWriting a tweet is a microcosm of writing a book. If you think deeply and carefully about every word in a tweet, and what the tweet as a whole communicates, you can extend those skills to all your writing. In this article, I'll break down how to think about every word in a tweet, nearly tripling its performance. Step 1: The first-impression tweet The tweet we'll work on came to me like most tweets, a thought that popped into my head. It was this: Ironically, strong opinions are the ones that are easily argued against. I could have just tweeted that. But I've made a habit of instead writing down my first-impression tweets in a scratch file, and later working on them before publishing. Here's what my thought process looks like. As a tweet, this phrase is a little wordy, and weak. It starts somewhat nonsensically with an adverb: "Ironically." What action is being performed ironically? Step 2: Improving word economy There are also some extra words that could be cut out. Do we have to refer to "strong opinions" again, by using the word "ones"? The word "that" is often not necessary, and it doesn't seem necessary here. If we cut out all those extra words, we end up with: Strong opinions are easily argued against. Step 3: Adding back in meaning That's shorter, more elegant, and economic. But now it's weaker. It's a simple statement of fact, without presenting what's remarkable about that fact, or how anyone should feel about it. At least when it said, "ironically," it pointed out the irony that strong opinions are those that are easily argued against. Also, since I've removed the second reference to "strong opinions" by removing the word "ones," the statement no longer pits "strong opinions" against other types of opinions. Before, I was implying the existence of opinions that weren't strong, and describing what was different about opinions that were. Our shortened statement is also in the passive voice, which makes it weaker. "Strong opinions are easily argued against," by whom? Who is doing the arguing? It would be more direct to say: It's easier to argue against strong opinions. But still, this statement doesn't pit strong opinions against other types of opinions. Fixing that, we could instead say: Of all opinions, strong ones are easiest to argue against. Finally, I think we at least have an improvement over the original, "Ironically, strong opinions are the ones that are easily argued against." It's more direct, and pits strong opinions against opinions at-large. It also has the important quality, in tweet format, of delivering the most surprising – or ironic – thing about the statement at the end. There's a bit of misdirection in this statement. We've addressed all opinions, homed in on the strong ones, which primes you to expect them to be lauded in some way. Instead, the statement points out the irony that what makes an opinion "strong" is that it's easy to argue against. Step 4: Tweaking for the audience But this tweet is still not ready. The most glaring problem is, nowhere in the tweet is the term, "strong opinions," and, as a tweet, that's where its potential lies. "Strong opinions" is a term in the parlance of some sections of Twitter. This term became popular after Marc Andreessen appeared on Tim Ferriss's podcast, where he advocated for, "strong opinions, weakly held." By trying to be economical with words in our tweet, we've broken apart this term. In our latest iteration, "Of all opinions, strong ones are easiest to argue against," it's simply referred to as "strong ones." Depending upon how prevalent the term "strong opinions" is in the minds of our audience members, we could stick with that more subtle hint. Sometimes that's more effective. In my experience, on Twitter, you have to bash people over the head with what you're saying to cut through the noise. So we could instead say: Of all opinions, strong opinions are easiest to argue against. We've replaced "strong ones" with "strong opinions." It's less economical, but includes the term "strong opinions," pits them against opinions at-large, and delivers the counterintuitive element at the end, like the punchline of a joke. Step 5: What are we trying to say? This is probably as economically as we can write this, meeting that criteria. But it's still not ready. Now it's not clear from this observation how the author wants us to feel about strong opinions. It's, ironically, not a strong opinion. Is the upshot that you shouldn't hold strong opinions? Is it that when you hold strong opinions, you have to be comfortable with the fact they are easy to argue against? What makes an opinion "strong," anyway? Is it the force with with which you express the opinion? If so, the statement, "strong opinions, weakly held" would mean you express the opinion with force, but are quick to change it if presented with contrary evidence. Or maybe it means that you should take decisive action on your opinions, and if that action presents you with contrary evidence, you should change your opinion and act accordingly? Now we're starting to get to what I, as an author, really think – which is like an excavation to discover, Where did this idea come from in the first place? My personal opinion is that to hold a strong opinion, you have to be faking. There are few things any of us are qualified to have opinions about. Having a strong opinion is a very "hedgehog" way of being, and hedgehogs are scientifically proven to be wrong. Yet if you express your honest opinion – which is to be more like a "fox" than a hedgehog – you're essentially expressing no opinion at all. Instead, you're exploring thoughts around a potential opinion. Given the mechanics of media today, few who see what you have to say when expressing your fox-like opinion will interact with it. And because few will interact with it, fewer will see it. So in a way, to be fox-like in media is doing oneself a disservice. Your message doesn't get seen, and since nobody can disagree with your non-opinion, you learn less. It's beneficial to masquerade as a hedgehog on social media, but be a fox in your private intellectual life. What's our angle? It's at this point in revising a tweet, where I often step back and write plainly the sub-text of what I'm trying to say. One angle is, In your pursuit of learning, you have to pretend to have strong opinions, because strong opinions are the easiest to argue against – which helps you collect information. Another angle is that When you express a strong opinion, be ready to be disagreed with, because strong opinions are by definition the easiest to argue against. So now I have two potential angles: "You should pretend to have an opinion." "When you express your opinion, be ready for criticism." Since this is a tweet, the sub-text of the tweet is very important. Because of the social mechanics of Twitter, people will not like or retweet something that makes them look bad. The "You should pretend to have an opinion" angle is weak, because to retweet something that espouses being inauthentic is to admit to being inauthentic, and that's socially repugnant – even if our angle has merit. Also important, it's not socially-repugnant enough to get people to argue, which would be another way of driving engagement. The "When you express your opinion, be ready for criticism," angle is somewhat stronger. It would be a small flex to like or retweet this, because it would show that you're a person resilient enough to expose yourself to criticism, a quality which has social clout in some circles. Moving forward with that best angle, in the clearest way possible, we could say: When you share strong opinions, you will be criticized. Because strong opinions by definition are the easiest opinions to disagree with. Besides the fact it's much longer, there's something weak about this tweet. I think it's that it makes strong opinions not look good. Why have them if they're so easy to disagree with? As someone with a fox cognitive style, to me it doesn't feel right. So ultimately it seems, I believe a third angle: "Strong opinions aren't good." If we put that simply, we're back to "Of all opinions, strong opinions are the easiest to argue against." That still doesn't express clearly how I feel about strong opinions. It's just a statement of fact. Step 6: Applying rhetoric Maybe we can make this more economical, while also expressing more clearly my feelings about strong opinions, if we use a rhetorical form. Rhetorical forms are time-tested structures in language that add meaning beyond the simple content of the words. "Antithesis" is a good rhetorical form for tweets. Mark Forsyth in The Elements of Eloquence describes antithesis as "X is Y, and not X is not Y." We won't use that exact formula, which would essentially be "Strong opinions are easy to argue against, and weak opinions are hard to argue against." Instead, let's pit the word "strong" against its antithesis, "weak" – which is part of why the phrase "strong opinions, weakly held" is so memetic. As it happens, the idea of a "weak argument" is a commonly-used metaphor, so we can ...
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[Bonus Patreon Preview]: Coffee w/ Kadavy #4
Apr 27, 202300:41:38Tap to summarizeHere's a bonus preview of a new podcast I've brewed just for Patreon supporters. It's Coffee w/ Kadavy. In this episode, #4, I talk about: I talk with special guest ChatGPT about why we will (or won't) see another AI winter An inventory of things I believe (at least more than 50%) A cool thing that makes reading paper books way more comfortable! A (controversial?) history book about an amazing clash of civilizations For more episodes of Coffee w/ Kadavy, join the Patreon! There are three more episodes waiting for you, and a sneak audiobook preview of a chapter from my next book.
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