Seth Godin's Blog

Critics and fans, passersby and the media crave a battle, a scandal and heroic stories of winning and losing. Want to get written up on a tech blog? Just post a really angry rant about your competition. Want to sell... Seth Godin

One approach to innovation and brainstorming is to wait for the muse to appear, to hope that it alights on your shoulder, to be ready to write down whatever comes to you. The other is to seek it out, will... Seth Godin

One approach to innovation and brainstorming is to wait for the muse to appear, to hope that it alights on your shoulder, to be ready to write down whatever comes to you.

The other is to seek it out, will it to appear, train it to arrive on time and on command.

The first method plays into our fears. After all, if you're not inspired, it's not your fault if you don't ship, it's not your fault if you don't do anything remarkable--hey, I don't have any good ideas, you can't expect me to speak up if I don't have any good ideas...

The second method challenges the fear and announces that you've abandoned the resistance and instead prepared to ship. Your first idea might not be good, or even your second or your tenth, but once you dedicate yourself to this cycle, yes, in fact, you will ship and make a difference.

Simple example: start a blog and post once a day on how your favorite company can improve its products or its service. Do it every day for a month, one new, actionable idea each and every day. Within a few weeks, you'll notice the change in the way you find, process and ship ideas.

When using an axe to split logs, it's awfully tempting to aim at the top of the log.

After all, if you miss the log entirely, it's dangerous or at the very least, ineffective. One can argue that if you don't split the top, it's pointless—nothing else will happen.

The problem with aiming at the top is that the axe loses momentum before its work is done and you end up with a stuck axe and half a split log.

No, the best approach is to focus on splitting the bottom of the log. Split the bottom and the top takes care of itself.

Amplification: some of my smartest and fastest-reading readers (and some with experience in log splitting) missed the point of the post above. I'm not Gary Larson, so I guess I should clarify.

I'm not talking about turning the log upside down or some other semantic trick. I'm pointing out that if you aim at the top (at getting started), then you don't split the wood. If you aim at the bottom (by way of the top) then you do. Hitting the top of the log isn't, the point, it's merely the beginning of the stroke. In other words, don't focus so much on starting something. It's the follow through that will get you there, so the beginning must be with the end in mind. And yes, this actually makes wood chopping far easier.

When using an axe to split logs, it's awfully tempting to aim at the top of the log. After all, if you miss the log entirely, it's dangerous or at the very least, ineffective. One can argue that if you... Seth Godin

Subtle is a cousin of beautiful.

Subtle design and messaging challenge the user to make her own connections instead of spelling out every detail. Connections we make are more powerful than connections made for us. If Amazon and Zappos had been called "reallybigbookstore.com" and "tonsofshoes.com" it might have made some early investors happy, but they would have built little of value.

Subtle details demonstrate power. Instead of being in an urgent hurry to yell about every feature or benefit, you demonstrate confidence by taking your time and allowing people to explore. They don't put huge banners on the Hermes store, announcing how good the silk is and how many famous people shop there...

And subtle messaging communicates insider status. I don't have to say, "Hey I was in Skull and Bones too! You should hire me!" Instead, a subtle (secret) handshake does all the talking that's needed.

It's tempting to turn the dial all the way to 11, the make everything just a bit louder. The opposite is precisely what you might need.

I'm aware of the oxymoronic nature of spelling out details about subtlety. At least I didn't explicitly point out the Spinal Tap reference.

Subtle is a cousin of beautiful. Subtle design and messaging challenge the user to make her own connections instead of spelling out every detail. Connections we make are more powerful than connections made for us. If Amazon and Zappos had... Seth Godin

Over the summer, I've done full day road trip gigs in Boston and DC. Each was different, both were amazing. (Here are some comments from DC and Boston attendees).

Coming up: I'll be in Minneapolis next Thursday, the 26th. There's a free meetup planned a few days before for those who are going.

Chicago is completely sold out (full day) but there are a few half-day tickets left.

And today we're announcing Atlanta on Friday, October 8th. Full day tickets for Atlanta are discounted $300 if for readers of this blog... just enter the discount code Sethsblog. (Half day attendees save $125, your code is Ireadsethsblog). If you're in Atlanta, I hope you can come or perhaps spread the word.

Hope to see you there.

Over the summer, I've done full day road trip gigs in Boston and DC. Each was different, both were amazing. (Here are some comments from DC and Boston attendees). Coming up: I'll be in Minneapolis next Thursday, the 26th. There's... Seth Godin

Some days, even the best dentist doesn't feel like being a dentist. And a lifeguard might not feel like being a lifeguard. Fortunately, they have appointments, commitments and jobs. They have to show up. They have to start doing the... Seth Godin

Some days, even the best dentist doesn't feel like being a dentist.

And a lifeguard might not feel like being a lifeguard.

Fortunately, they have appointments, commitments and jobs. They have to show up. They have to start doing the work. And most of the time, this jump start is sufficient to get them over the hump, and then they go back to being in the zone and doing their best work.

Momentum is incredibly useful to someone who has to overcome fear, dig in deep and ship. Momentum gives you a reason to overcome your fear and do your art, because there are outside forces and obligations that keep you moving. Without them, you'd probably stumble and fall.

And yet...

And yet many of us fear too much momentum. We look at a project launch or a job or another new commitment as something that might get out of control. It's one thing to be a folk singer playing to a hundred people a night in a coffeehouse, but what if the momentum builds and you become a star? A rock star? With an entourage and appearances and higher than high expectations for your next work. That's a lot of momentum, no?

Deep down, this potential for an overwhelming response alerts the lizard brain and we hold back. We're afraid of being part of something that feels like it might be too big for us.

Hint: it probably isn't.

Here's what happens as a result of security theater at the Orlando airport: You wait in line at least twenty minutes There's a scrum of pushing and shoving The staff are unhappy and not afraid to share it An unreasonable... Seth Godin

Here's what happens as a result of security theater at the Orlando airport:

• You wait in line at least twenty minutes
• There's a scrum of pushing and shoving
• The staff are unhappy and not afraid to share it
• An unreasonable workload leads to fatigue and errors
• People miss their flights

Here's what doesn't happen:

• Security is not increased
• Peace of mind is not enhanced

In other words, we're paying a significant tax (time and money) and getting nothing in return. In fact, we get worse than nothing. We could call it an anxiety program, instead of a tax. (After all, when you pay a luxury tax, you get some hard-won luxury as part of the deal).

The reason the TSA keeps changing the rules is not because the rules work, but because changing the rules creates more anxiety (for bad guys, they say, but for us too).

Another example: the MBA. A lot of entrepreneurs get an MBA because they are afraid to go out into world without one. They are seeking the reassurance a credential will bring them, even though the cost is huge and there's no data to indicate that they'll be more successful as an entrepreneur as a result.

We pay the fear tax every time we spend time or money seeking reassurance. We pay it twice when the act of seeking that reassurance actually makes us more anxious, not less.

We pay the tax when we cover our butt instead of doing the right thing, and we pay the tax when we take away someone's dignity because we're afraid.

We should quantify the tax. The government should publish how much of our money they're spending to create fear and then spending to (apparently) address fear. Corporations should add to their annual reports how much they spent just-in-case. Once we know how much it costs, we can figure out if it's worth it.

Instead of seeking out gatekeepers and critics and others that demand we get the broom of the wicked witch, perhaps we should just publish our work. The tax is too high.

Instead of forgetting about the wasted anxiety after the fact, perhaps we ought to keep a log of how often we needlessly pay the fear tax.

Instead of over-staffing, over-planning, over-meeting and over-analyzing, perhaps organizations should take lower-cost steps and actually ship.

Think about how much you could get done if you didn't have to pay a tax to amplify or mollify your fear...

Here's how you know if someone is living the brand, is emotionally connected to the story and is literate and informed--or if they're just emotionally connected in the moment: Ask a lot of questions. Cornel West can talk for hours... Seth Godin

Here's how you know if someone is living the brand, is emotionally connected to the story and is literate and informed--or if they're just emotionally connected in the moment:

Ask a lot of questions.

Cornel West can talk for hours about race, the Bible or Marx. He knows it cold.

Dan Dennett can write for three hundred pages about the philosophy of free will and consciousness and he's just getting started. There's depth there.

I've talked to brand stewards from JetBlue and Starbucks that could go deep or wide or detailed for hours.

Then compare these passionate leaders to a pundit, spin doctor or troll (for just about any cause du jour) being interviewed on TV. After three sentences, they run out of assertions, facts or interesting things to say.

There's a lot to be said for being deep, scientific and informed.

(bonus: Via Xeni at Boingboing, consider this take on how we brainwash our kids. More talking points.)

Every activity worth doing has a learning curve. Riding a bike, learning to read, using Facebook... the early days are rarely nothing but fun. Take a look at this three part chart. The first shows how much joy someone gets... Seth Godin

Every activity worth doing has a learning curve. Riding a bike, learning to read, using Facebook... the early days are rarely nothing but fun.

Take a look at this three part chart. The first shows how much joy someone gets out of an activity. Over time, as we discover new things and get better at it, our satisfaction increases. At some point, there's a bump when we get quite good at it, and then, in most activities, it fades because we get bored. (In the top graph I've also added the Dip, showing the extra joy from being an expert, but that's irrelevant to this discussion).

The second graph shows the hassle of that same activity. Riding a bike, for example, is horrible at first. Skinned knees, bruised egos. Twitter is really easy to use the first few times, so not so much red ink there.

The third graph is just the two overlaid. That zone on the left, the red zone, is the gap between the initial hassle and the initial joy. My contention is that the only reason we ever get through that gap is that someone on the other side (the little green circle) is rooting us on, or telling us stories of how great it is on the other side.

The bigger your red zone, the louder your green dot needs to be. Every successful product or passion is either easy to get started on or comes with a built-in motivator to keep you moving until you're in. This is so easy to overlook, because of course you're already in...

The way you price expensive transactions is going to train your partners and customers in how to behave. When selling a book to a major publisher, it’s common for the publisher to offer an advance against royalties. In fact, the... Seth Godin

The way you price expensive transactions is going to train your partners and customers in how to behave.

When selling a book to a major publisher, it’s common for the publisher to offer an advance against royalties. In fact, the advance is the most significant tool that publishers use to get a coveted author to pick one house over another--royalties and most everything else are fixed.

It turns out that if an agent offers a hot book to multiple publishers at the same time, the advance offered goes up, often dramatically. Obviously, the publisher was capable of offering the higher advance without the auction, but it was the risk of losing the book that got them to pony up more money.

This trains agents and authors to be disloyal, to shop around and to create an artificial game to raise the price.

Or consider the real estate developer who calls up an electrician to re-wire a building. She uses this electrician often, and the estimate comes back at $18,000. The developer shops around and finds a similarly talented electrician for $14,000. Loyalty is great, but that’s a huge difference. She switches to the higher value choice. Indignant, the original electrician says, “why didn’t you tell me! I could have beaten that price.”

The answer, of course, is, “well, why didn’t you quote me that price in the first place?”

You might leave money on the table if you reward people for being loyal (and don’t make them shop around each time). I think it’s money well spent, because loyalty is worth more than a little more margin. If you train your partners to shop around, expect them to shop around.

Most existing systems (organizations, cities, careers, governments) are resilient to external shocks. If they weren't, they wouldn't still be here. Earthquakes, edicts and emergencies come and they go, but the systems remain. And yet, it's the emergencies we pay attention... Seth Godin