Lately I have been conflicted in where I spend my time.
I love creating things. But I also love building a team, leading, marketing, and selling.
There have been patches of time where I have done very little creation, and in those periods I realise I quickly become demoralised.
I find joy in creation.
For as long as I can remember, I have been in awe of the idea that anyone can grab a computer, connect it to the internet, and build something. And that someone else on the other side of the world can then utilise and benefit from that thing.
Anyone can create something of value, and you don't need to ask anyone else for permission.
Creating vs publishing
I don't just like creating, I like publishing.
Don't get me wrong, publishing can induce immense fear.
But I get a kick out of directly creating something and then putting it live.
Getting feedback is addictive — whether it's seeing usage, receiving comments, or simply knowing "it's out there".
I sense that the act of creating is never complete, but publishing (or shipping) is a marker to say: I've completed the first step.
"Publishing" can mean anything here — deploying to production, putting a blog post live, hitting send on a Tweet or Thread, or even just writing an idea down and sharing it with your team.
The critical benefit of "publishing" is that you not only get to call your work "done" for now, you get to receive at least a little feedback: did anyone care?
Speed vs perfection
There's a study I read a while back in the book Art and Fear that summarises the dichotomy of aiming for perfection:
The ceramics teacher announced on opening day that he was dividing the class into two groups. All those on the left side of the studio, he said, would be graded solely on the quantity of work they produced, all those on the right solely on its quality.
His procedure was simple: on the final day of class he would bring in his bathroom scales and weigh the work of the “quantity” group: fifty pound of pots rated an “A”, forty pounds a “B”, and so on. Those being graded on “quality”, however, needed to produce only one pot – albeit a perfect one – to get an “A”.
Well, came grading time and a curious fact emerged: the works of highest quality were all produced by the group being graded for quantity. It seems that while the “quantity” group was busily churning out piles of work – and learning from their mistakes – the “quality” group had sat theorizing about perfection, and in the end had little more to show for their efforts than grandiose theories and a pile of dead clay.
Ever since I read this, it changed my views on perfection.
"Quick and scrappy" is often viewed as "not the proper way". The proper way is to do X and Y and Z in a specific order.
In reality,