Alex: Today, we're diving into Seth Godin's “The Practice: Shipping Creative Work”. And I want to start with a question: How often do you find yourself waiting for that lightning bolt of inspiration? Or maybe holding back, convinced your work isn't quite ready? Justine: Oh, Alex, are you psychic? That's basically the story of my life… and probably half the projects I've abandoned. So, let me guess – this book basically argues that creativity isn't about waiting for the muse to strike, right? Alex: Nailed it! Godin challenges the whole "flash of genius" myth. He says creativity isn't some magical gift reserved for a select few. It’s a “practice”. Think of it like brushing your teeth or learning guitar – it's about showing up consistently, putting in the work, and trusting the process, even when you don't see immediate results. Justine: Okay, okay, but "trusting the process" sounds a little… abstract, motivational-poster-ish. What does that actually mean in this context? Alex: That's exactly what we're here to unpack! First, we'll explore this idea of trusting yourself and the creative process – it’s less about instant gratification and more about planting seeds, tending to them, and giving them time to flourish. Justine: Creativity as gardening… so we're all just waiting for our miracle flowers to bloom? Alex: Well, there's an element of that, yes, but it's also about actively nurturing and having patience! Then, we’ll get into the practical side of a creative practice – how repetition and constant iteration are like the sculptor’s tools, and can transform rough ideas into something truly meaningful. Justine: And let me guess, part three’s the bit where we become supremely enlightened and generously share our brilliance with the world? Alex: Precisely! It's about the knock-on effect of generosity. Think of your work as a bridge, connecting you with others, sparking new ideas, and opening up entirely new possibilities. Justine: Sounds almost nauseatingly optimistic, but alright... convince me that my doodles in the margins can actually ripple out and change the world.

Alex: So, where were we? Ah yes, let's kick off with the core idea: trusting yourself “and” the creative process itself. Godin points out that we tend to portray creativity as these rare “aha!” moments, you know, like a light bulb suddenly going off. But this idea can actually hold us back, because we end up waiting for that "perfect" moment to strike. Justine: Exactly, so instead of waiting for some muse to pay you a visit, Godin’s saying, "Just get to work.” Okay, but here's my question: isn't there a risk of “forcing” creativity if you're just going through the motions? Can you really “practice” your way into something authentic? Alex: That's where people often misunderstand! Godin isn’t talking about "forcing" anything—it’s simply about “showing up” consistently and building momentum. He uses the example of Drew Dernavich, the New Yorker cartoonist. He submits tons of cartoons, and most get rejected. Now, that sounds discouraging, right? But what he's actually doing is refining his skills through sheer volume. Every single sketch, even the ones that get rejected, hones his skills and helping him figure out what works and what doesn’t. Justine: I see. So, it's not about waiting for a sudden burst of inspiration, but more like panning for gold—or in Drew's case, a single publishable joke from a mountain of duds. But how do you stay upbeat if most of your work isn't good enough? Doesn’t all that rejection gradually erode your self-belief? Alex: Rejection can sting, sure, but Godin encourages us to see those moments differently. He suggests we reframe self-doubt and fear as signals that you're doing something meaningful. Think of it like learning to juggle – the teacher usually starts by focusing on throwing the balls, not catching them. It's the drops—the mistakes—that teach you the rhythm. Similarly, in creativity, every “dropped ball” isn't a failure. It's part of figuring out your pace and flow. Justine: Right, so failure is just part of the deal. Seems like you're carrying around this expectation that things will go wrong, but you're okay with it. But what about fear? I mean, let's be honest, nobody enjoys dropping the ball, right? I mean, Godin can say "embrace the fear," but in that moment, it feels like the fear is laughing at you. Alex: That’s a great point. Fear and self-doubt are two sides of the same coin, but Godin has an interesting way of dealing with them. Instead of shying away from fear, he suggests asking, "What is this fear trying to tell me?" Often, fear points to the things that truly matter to you, the things you care about deeply. So instead of running from it, facing that fear can actually guide you toward growth. It becomes a tool, rather than a roadblock. Justine: That's counterintuitive, isn’t it? Instead of running from the tiger, you walk up to it: "Hey, let's talk." But I see what you mean. Fear highlights what we value—where the stakes are highest—and that’s where the biggest creative breakthroughs lie. That like exploring some deep dark cave, venturing into the unknown parts of yourself without a map. Alex: Exactly! And that’s where the trust in the process really shines. Godin says we should focus on small, regular steps. Not every trip into the cave needs to result in a huge discovery—just bring back one rock, one tiny insight. Over time, those little efforts pile up into something big. And you trust that even those tough, uncomfortable moments are part of the journey. Justine: Okay, but what about external stuff? What happens when your “trust in the process” clashes with the need for likes, shares, sales, all of that? How do you stay motivated if nobody's noticing? Alex: That’s where authenticity comes in. Godin argues that real creativity isn't about chasing applause or fitting in. It's about connecting with your unique voice and trusting that honesty matters. He ties this to the Turkish tradition of askıda ekmek, "bread on the hook." People buy an extra loaf and leave it for someone who needs it. It's an act of kindness, without expectation. Creative work is similar—it's about adding something meaningful, even if you don’t see the impact right away. Justine: So, we're bakers, leaving loaves for others to find. But how do you reconcile that generosity with the need to feel valued? Surely, everyone wants some validation to keep going, right? Alex: Sure, getting recognized is nice, but Godin says fulfillment comes more from the creating itself, not the rewards. He suggests shifting away from the result and focusing on the work. That joy of “making”—that’s where the magic is. Think of an artist who paints because they love it, not to be famous. Justine: Fair point, there's something freeing about that. If you're not chasing fame, best-seller lists, or even likes, you get to work freely. But practically, how do you actually do that? Alex: Godin gives us some clear steps. First, commit to a consistent practice, even if it’s just baby steps. Second, see failures as learning. Remember Drew Dernavich—every rejection helped him refine his cartoons. Third, face your fears. Ask yourself what they're telling you and use that information. And finally, always find joy in the work itself, not just the result. When you trust the process like that, you’re not only building your skills, but also your mental toughness. Justine: Okay, so trust the drops, trust the fear, trust the bread you’re baking, and trust that you’ll figure it out.

Alex: Once you're on board with trusting the process, the next key is really understanding how to engage with it effectively. This is where Godin’s focus on the creative practice itself is important. It’s about those practical elements—iterating, refining, and building up your resilience—to keep going over the long haul. Justine: Okay, so we're moving from the philosophical to the practical, right? Less "trust falls," more about actually grinding it out. Got it. But where do we even start with the grind? Alex: It starts with a shift in focus, away from the outcomes. Godin really digs into something a lot of creators struggle with—this obsession with results. We're taught to chase immediate success, like a viral post or becoming a bestseller. But he wants us to focus on the process itself. Doing the work, showing up consistently—that’s where the real progress happens. Justine: Wait a minute, forget the results entirely? That sounds like baking a cake and not caring if it tastes good. Isn't that a little naive in a performance-driven world? Alex: I see your point, but Godin isn't saying results are irrelevant. He’s emphasizing that fixating on them too early or too much can actually get in the way of doing the work. Think about athletes. Most of their time isn't spent competing in front of a crowd. They're practicing—repeating drills, refining techniques, building endurance. Victory isn't guaranteed, but they still put in the work every day. Creative practice is similar. You're not aiming for perfection every time, you're building your capacity to create over time. Justine: Okay, fair enough. The grind prepares you, doesn't guarantee you a gold medal. But what about creators who just freeze up? Like, painters staring at a blank canvas, so afraid to fail they can't even start. What's the process there—just throw paint and hope for the best? Alex: Actually, it’s kind of close to that! Godin emphasizes that breaking free from that fear of failure means letting go of expectations. Imagine that painter. If they stop worrying about how the final piece will be judged and focus on the act of painting itself—the strokes, the colors—they might find a sense of play, right? That's when they might enter a state of "flow," where the fear recedes, and the joy of creating takes over. Justine: So, step one: stop worrying about whether your work will end up in a gallery. Step two: just... paint. Sounds simple enough. But I assume it’s not? Alex: Of course not—it takes practice to rework your mindset. But here’s the thing: when you focus on the act of creating, you’re training not just your skillset but your resilience too. Because creativity, as Godin puts it, is messy. The sooner you embrace that, the sooner you open yourself up to genuine growth. Justine: Alright, you've convinced me to show up, even if it’s messy. Now, let’s talk about iteration. Godin seems to really push this idea that creating something good – even great – starts with making a lot of bad somethings first. Is that the whole “embrace bad ideas” thing? Alex: Exactly! Godin calls iteration the heartbeat of creativity. The idea isn't to produce perfection right away; it’s to experiment, make mistakes, learn, and refine. Look at Sonia Delaunay, the artist. She started by sewing scraps of fabric into a simple quilt for her son – functional, not particularly glamorous. But those humble beginnings laid the groundwork for her pioneering work, blending color and geometry. That quilt turned into a springboard for her revolutionary contributions to modern art. Justine: Okay, let’s see if I get this: Sonia Delaunay makes a baby blanket, and next thing you know, she’s redefining art with abstract color theory? That's a great argument for starting small! But if iteration is so important—trying, failing, tweaking—what role does feedback play? Alex: Feedback is indispensable! It lets creators see their work from fresh angles, often revealing things they couldn't see themselves. Godin mentions Herbie Flowers, the session musician who worked on Lou Reed's "Take a Walk on the Wild Side." During recording, Flowers combined a double bass line with an electric bass—something he probably wouldn't have done if he hadn't been collaborating with others. That process of trying, iterating, and incorporating feedback turned a simple baseline into one of rock’s most iconic riffs. Justine: So, it’s about inviting collaboration and using feedback as a guide, not just a critique. But doesn’t opening yourself up to feedback also leave you vulnerable to, well, criticism? How do you sort through what’s helpful and what's just destructive? Alex: That's where resilience comes in. Feedback can only improve your work if you aren’t crippled by it. Godin suggests seeing feedback as a gift—not all of it will be useful, but it’s there to teach you. When you remember this is part of the process, not a judgment on your worth, it all becomes more manageable, right? It's not failure; it's discovery. Justine: Alright, I hear you. But I keep coming back to one thing - commitment. This constant showing up, embracing imperfection, iterating, it takes a certain mindset. People freak out after one bad review! How do you keep going when growth feels so slow or painful? Alex: Godin’s answer to that is reframing what growth looks like. He uses performers like Totie Fields, the comedian who bombed mid-performance but chose to engage her audience in a raw, unscripted way instead of retreating. Growth isn’t linear; it’s messy, uncertain. Fields didn’t make a perfect recovery, but her commitment to facing the discomfort showed her strength as a performer. That’s growth—it’s about showing up for the tough parts, not running away. Justine: Okay, so resilience isn’t about succeeding, or even bouncing back perfectly; it’s about sticking with it, no matter how tough it gets. But I bet Godin has some practical tips to make the journey a little less overwhelming, right? Alex: Absolutely! He suggests breaking projects into manageable chunks; small wins build momentum. He also encourages creators to reframe failures as stepping stones, which is where iteration thrives. And more than anything, he emphasizes celebrating the process, finding joy in the act of doing rather than just focusing on the end goal. Justine: So, it’s about creating small, sustainable habits, being flexible when you fail, and above all, keeping it meaningful for you. That makes a lot of sense. I’d say that’s a pretty solid way to engage with creativity in a way that you can actually sustain.

Alex: So, once you've got a good practice going, then the focus shifts to how your creativity connects with other people. Of course, honing your craft is super important, but Godin makes a case that creativity doesn't really exist in isolation. It's not just a solo project—it's actually an act of generosity, you know? When you share your creativity, it starts this ripple effect, which then helps communities grow and connect. That's where generosity and connection really come into play. Justine: Okay, so we're going from "just do it" to "do it for others," right? But, come on, Alex, doesn't that seem a bit… ideal? Like, how does my little art thing, or your carefully written poem, really cause these so-called ripples? Isn’t it easier to think of creativity as something kind of selfish, or at least? Alex: That’s a fair point, Justine, but Godin sees "creative generosity" in a much broader way. Think about Herbie Flowers’ work on Lou Reed’s song, “Take a Walk on the Wild Side.” Herbie's bass line is so unique, it’s one of the things people immediately recognize. When he brought his innovative double bass riff into the studio, it wasn't just about showing off what he could do—it was about making the whole song better, right? So, by sharing his skill, he made something that was bigger than himself. Justine: Okay, but was Herbie just doing his job, you know, as a session musician? So, where's the real intention behind this alleged generosity? Or was it just luck that everyone benefited from the collaboration? Alex: Well, there's some truth to that, but Godin might say that Herbie's approach is a great example of how creative work builds bridges instead of walls. He experimented, shared his work, and let the feedback from the team shape the final product. That openness and willingness to share without knowing exactly what would happen shows creative generosity. The magic happens when different creative minds come together with a common goal. Justine: Interesting. But let's take this generosity idea out of the recording studio for a bit. You were talking about that Turkish tradition, askıda ekmek —"bread on the hook.” Explain that again. How does a loaf of bread come into play? Alex: It's actually a really brilliant example of generosity in creativity. Basically, people will buy an extra loaf of bread at the bakery and leave it for someone who might need it later. Here's the thing: the person who gives the bread doesn't know who will take it, and the person who takes it doesn't know who left it. It's kind of an anonymous act of giving. Godin uses this tradition to show how creators can share their work, with empathy, understanding that their creation might meet needs that they never fully see or know. Justine: So, creating is like hanging "bread" on the hook, hoping it feeds someone in a way you can't predict. Okay, I get that it's a nice metaphor, but how does that become something practical? What if your bread—your work—just sits there untouched? Alex: That's really where trust comes in! Not every creative thing you do will hit home right away or with everyone, and that's OK. Godin says that even if something you create sparks something in just one person, that's still a really valuable connection. And when you share creativity openly, it builds something bigger, like a community or a conversation. I can give you another example: Sonia Delaunay Justine: Oh, the one who started by making a baby blanket, right? It still amazes me that quilting led to one of the most innovative art movements of her time. So, how does she fit into the generosity idea? Alex: Delaunay's story is a great illustration of how creativity, connection, and cultural influence come together. This quilt she made for her son from leftover fabric wasn't just a personal thing. It became a body of work that connected different fields of study, like fashion, design, and art. She didn’t limit her creativity to painting; she shared how she used color and shape in new ways, which influenced a lot of people in many areas. Her willingness to imagine and share these unusual methods inspired artists and designers far beyond her own circle. Justine: Right, so Delaunay's patchwork connected these different worlds, and it all started from necessity. But was she actually thinking about generosity back then, or did the cultural impact just kind of happen as a side effect of her creative ideas? Alex: Well, she might not have intentionally been trying to change the art world with her quilt. But, her actions really show what Godin is talking about. It’s about sharing your creative work without keeping it to yourself or trying to control how people will react to it. She trusted the creative process, and by doing that, her innovation spread out and inspired other people, whether she planned it or not. Justine: Okay, I can see that. But this whole "share freely" idea sounds great, but what if you're a creator who's struggling, clinging to your ideas for dear life? Doesn't that go against the idea of protecting your intellectual property? Alex: That's a normal worry! Godin deals with this head-on by challenging the idea of scarcity. Instead of guarding ideas, he argues for thinking abundantly, where creativity grows when shared. Annie Dillard describes creativity as "gifts and surprises" that are all over the world. The second you share, even more possibilities come out. For example, think about open-source platforms, like those coding frameworks that developers freely add to. These aren't reckless acts of giving, they're investments in a larger system where everyone gains. Justine: So, with sharing, you actually boost the creative world you're in. You're betting that people will build off your work and keep the cycle going. My next question is, how do you balance that generosity with owning your work in a way that doesn't stifle those ideas? Alex: Owning your work doesn't mean isolating it. The balance comes with framing sharing as a way to grow together, not to be exploited. Support the work of others, amplify ideas, and encourage collaboration. Godin stresses that amplifying creativity doesn't diminish your own—it reinforces the whole ecosystem. Justine: Sounds like it’s probably a better situation for everyone when people build each other up instead of racing to hoard every accolade. Fair enough. But what happens when it doesn’t feel like an ecosystem at all? What if your work seems to be swallowed by the noise, overshadowed by those bigger names or louder megaphones? Alex: Well, that's where authenticity and intention come back into play. Godin argues that the world doesn’t need louder voices—it needs deeper ones. When you create with meaning and share with purpose, the work stands out precisely because it's not trying to compete. It's grounded, generous, and, most importantly, true to your unique vision. Authenticity anchors the connections you’re making—regardless of how big the platform is. Justine: Alright, so share with purpose, trust that your loaf of bread, or whatever your creative offering is, feeds someone somewhere, and foster collaboration over competition. Makes sense. But where does all this lead? What’s the bigger picture? Alex: The bigger picture is this: creativity is a way for connection and cultural transformation. When creators adopt generosity and avoid the trap of hoarding ideas or seeking immediate validation, their work becomes more than just self-expression. It contributes to dialogues, communities, and even societal shifts. Creativity doesn’t just reflect the world; it shapes it. Justine: That’s a powerful idea, Alex—trust and generosity as the twin engines of innovation and change. Suddenly, the whole “bread on the hook” thing feels a little less abstract.

Alex: Okay Justine, so to sum up Seth Godin’s “The Practice”, it really boils down to this: it’s a fundamental shift in how we approach creativity. Forget waiting for that perfect moment of inspiration or seeking approval from others. It's all about trusting the process, dedicating yourself to consistent practice, and being okay with iteration – even when things get messy. Godin makes a key point that failure and fear aren't reasons to quit; they're just signals that you are on your way. Justine: Right, he goes even further by highlighting generosity. He means that creativity isn’t meant to be bottled up. It’s about putting your work out there, whether it’s for one person, or a hundred, and trusting that it’ll create a ripple effect bigger than you imagined. It’s a smart combination of being resilient, contributing to something, and having the courage to simply show up, despite everything. Alex: Precisely. And the key takeaway for our listeners is this: Creativity isn't about achieving some flawless result; it’s about committing yourself to the act of creating and believing that each step – no matter how small – has value. Think of it as, you know, like leaving that extra loaf of bread on the hook, or throwing an idea out into the world without any guarantees. Start creating, share it freely, and trust that your work can ignite something meaningful, even if you don't see the results right away. Justine: Okay, so here’s the challenge for everyone. Don't sit around waiting for that so-called "light bulb moment" to magically appear. Pick a practice, commit to showing up every day, and let go of this need for perfection. Be messy, be bold, and trust that in doing so, you’re already making a difference. Alex: Absolutely. Trust the process, trust in yourself, and never underestimate the power of being generous with your creativity. That’s “really” where the magic happens.