Making things and sharing them

A doll with creepy toes, wonky eyebrows, and its own Kleenex? I hope it was a big hit. (The Library of Virginia)

Suppose I wanted to write an entire album of songs inspired by Reddit posts.

(I am picking this idea at random, but it’s kind of awesome, actually.)

One option is to think about it and obsess about it, then tell everyone that I’m thinking about it and ask their opinion or advice.

I could hem and haw about whether it’s a good idea, whether it fits my brand, and whether anyone will like it.

Or...

I could simply go for it.

I could spend weeks or months developing the album, writing it, recording it, and so on. And then it would be done.

And then I could find out whether it’s a good idea, whether it fits my brand, and whether anyone will like it.

I could also abandon the idea. But why not make it? Why not create the thing I’m envisioning, no matter how silly or offbeat it may seem?

I don’t need to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars. I can make something, or a prototype of something, using the resources of time and money that I can reasonably afford to spend.

Once I’ve made the thing, I can promote it. Or, I can make the next thing.

If I don’t want to make this album of Reddit-related songs, that’s fine. It’s a lot of trouble to go to. I can do something else that I want to do instead.

If I have an hour to watch Netflix, it would be silly of me to spend the entire hour scrolling through the options, looking for the perfect entertainment.

Sadly, this is how so many of us spend our lives. We keep searching for to the “right” idea instead of picking one and committing to it.

We’re overestimating the commitment that a given idea will require while underestimating the value of pursuing it, even if it’s a failure.

We can treat any idea — even the completion of a full album — as an experiment. We learn and grow from each of these experiments.

Yes, it may seem foolish to spend six months working on an album that no one will like. But is it really more foolish than spending the same six months scrolling, literally or metaphorically, without working on anything?

For me, the key is enjoyment. If I intrinsically enjoy the experiments I run, then I can justify doing them. Art, business, leisure, some combination of the three — I’m spending my life doing things I feel like doing, regardless of what may come of them.

And something may indeed come of these experiments. A wool sweater, a song, a new business, a five-second animation of an AI-rendered boat on an AI-rendered sea...who knows?

I have found that when I listen to my impulses to create and investigate, I’m happier, more at peace, and more productive. Moreover, I have more energy to fulfill my obligations on top of whatever wild, weird thing I’m working on.

Exploring options without taking action, on the other hand, quickly grows enervating. I find myself seeking more information without actually gaining any insight.

Of course, I never stop coming up with new ideas to pursue. But I’ve come to expect that. I don’t feel a responsibility to all of them. As I’ve gotten used to following through on my ideas, there’s less of that sense of panic over how I’m going to handle them all. I will handle what I can handle, and I will choose to take on what I can take on. I appreciate the ideas as the gifts they are, free for me to take or politely decline.

Only once I’ve created something, I can determine whether it has value to others. Given that the act of creation brings me joy, it makes sense that I might spend my life making things and sharing them, rather than thinking about making and sharing them.

What about you?