 The
Idea: If you want to make a difference in this world, you need to know
yourself, to perfect what you do well until you're brilliant at it, to
focus your energies, and to show others courageously that nobody does
it better.
I don't recall who first gave me
the advice to "do one or two things really well", but it's probably the
best advice I've ever received, up there with "things happen the way
they do for a reason, so understand what that reason is if you hope to
change it". Problem is, I've never really followed this advice. "You're
like a cluster fly", a girlfriend told me many years ago, "you know,
those high-energy flies that come indoors in the spring and the fall
that crash into walls, ceilings, lights, windows, like crazed dive
bombers, and then spin around noisily on their backs when they hurt
themselves. That's you -- no grounding, no focus, just running full
tilt at everything until you knock yourself out." She was right. This
journal, my second career search, even my embracing of Getting Things Done all smack of interest and preoccupation with too many things.
How to do one or two things really well:
- Believe in yourself. You can do anything if you believe. You can't do anything if you don't.
- Find one or two
very specific things that are either very useful or very interesting,
that you do (or can learn to do) really well, better than anyone else, and which you like doing.
- Hone your skill in and deepen your knowledge about those one or two things.
- Stop doing other things that distract your focus from achieving brilliance in those one or two things.
- Show others, bravely, how well you can do these things -- It's not a distinctive competency unless others recognize it as such.
- Trust your instincts to tell you what to do, what not to do, when to persevere and when to give up and try something else.
I've given this advice to others and those that have followed it have
done really well. In the workplace (and on our blogs) there's a
tendency to say 'yes' to too many things, and get so overwhelmed that
you end up constantly juggling (and dropping) tasks you've taken on.
Not only does this lead to mediocre performance it also leads to
burnout, and unhappiness. But it's very hard to say 'no', maybe the
hardest lesson of all to learn.
A couple of years ago I was listed as one of the exemplary Idea Practitioners in a book called What's the Big Idea?
by distinguished management gurus Tom Davenport and Larry Prusak. The
irony is that the authors had the same problem I do -- their book about
the value of great ideas didn't have a great idea of its own. Not like The Tipping Point or The Wisdom of Crowds, or the idea of the Internet as a World of Ends. The ability to come up with great ideas, to do that really well,
is rare, and I greatly admire writers who have that ability, because
they're going to be really successful and valuable as writers.
My book Natural Enterprise is,
I am told, a good book, maybe even a needed book, but it lacks that
great idea that would make it publishable, a best-seller. I've been
pushing it on the basis that, unlike other books on business formation,
it shows the reader how to start a business (a) inexpensively, (b)
without stress or exhausting work hours, (c) without incurring debt or
being beholden to outside shareholders, and (d) working with people you
love, rather than people you need. Not enough, say the publishers. Don't give up, it's good, but try again. And I'm arrogant and impatient enough not to publish it until and unless it will be a best-seller. I want it to do really well, to convince myself that writing is, for me, one of those one or two things I
do really well, and should be doing all the time. But I have this
nagging doubt that maybe it isn't. I know I'm a good writer, but my
sentences are too long, the organization of my articles is
undisciplined, and I really need a good editor -- "Get to the point and
get rid of the other stuff", I was once told by an exasperated reader.
So because I'm not sure writing is meant to be one of the one or two
things I do really well, I'm still juggling all this other stuff,
keeping those other options open. Sheer cowardice, especially at my age
(53).
One of my best ideas is Personal Productivity Improvement: The idea
that instead of pushing training and tools and information at workers
on the front line and expecting those things to make them more
effective, we need to observe them in the context of their own unique work responsibilities and unique work style, and coach
them one-on-one how to use these resources better, how to improve their
work-habits, and how to manage their own performance and careers. But
I've been unable to convince executives to invest in the program
(investing in employees is definitely out of fashion these days). And
even if I could, I'm not sure I'd want to spend the rest of my life
honing my skill at PPI Coaching. I'm not sure being known after I'm
gone as the father of this revolutionary approach to productivity and
professional development would be enough for me. Remember I'm the guy
that wants to save the world. So I'm still waffling, still juggling.
So I'm afraid I can only advise you to do what I say, not what I do.
Have the courage to assess what you're really good at (or if you're
still young, work at something until you're really good at it. I mean brilliant.
If there's more than two things you're not focused enough. Then work
harder and practice longer until you're even better at those one or two
things, world class, in a class by yourself. That will mean not doing
a lot of things that are fun, or interesting, or which you're merely
competent at. That will mean not juggling, just going all out knowing
that if you fail at these one or two things you're going to have to
start over. Very scary, but absolutely necessary. If the greatest
inventors in history had decided instead to become second-rate concert
pianists, we might today be living in the dark, and telling our tales
orally. Hardest of all, it will mean exposing your newly honed
competencies to public scrutiny, which will often be cruel, and
sometimes be unfair or even dead wrong, and having the judgement, the
instinct, the self-knowledge and self-confidence to know when you're
just not good enough versus when you just need to show yourself better
or wait for the world to catch up to you. It may even mean abandoning
your writing and reading of online journals, which, if you're like me,
takes just too much time out of the day (though a better pastime than
television).
Please. Don't be like me. Do one or two things really well. The future of the world depends on it.
Perhaps I was meant to be a teacher. No, maybe I should...
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MADE IN CANADA
trust your
instincts 
