Creativity Meets Courage

I had an interesting discussion Saturday with playwright (and producer, director) Del Shores just before seeing his newest work “Yellow”. Del is known for comedy with a southern twist and has several hit plays and movies plus a TV series (“Sordid Lives”) under his belt. He is a creative wizard who also has the chops to successfully produce his work.

Listening to his story, I was struck by how much courage is required to put his work on display. Noted playwrights draw noted critics. And yes, their critical acclaim can fill the house. But the right thumbs down can also tank a fledgling project.

Del was exceedingly candid about the challenges of putting his work out there every day for others to critique. And—while most of us work from a quieter stage—I found his lessons worth sharing.

Let your work evolve. Del is known for comedy, yet his newest work deals with heavy emotional issues. What makes it so “Del” is weaving his unique brand of southern comedy into a tragic story: we were alternating deep belly laughs with copious tears. Dramedy anyone?

Be confident. Oh, and if you aren’t always feeling it? Take a deep breath and put your work out there anyway. Most smart, talented people doubt themselves at some point. Combat that by surrounding yourself with inspiring allies--you’ll catapult yourself just to keep up. Nobody benefits when you keep potentially great ideas under a rock.

Touch everything important. Del drops by the front office to check ticket sales. He gathers his actors before every performance for an inspiring huddle. He gives memorable press interviews—no shrinking violet here. And he stands at the exit (think Father of the Bride), listening to outgoing comments and connecting with theatre lovers. He promotes with gusto and an open ear.

So. Has your creativity met with courage yet?

Ready. Fire. Aim

Gen. Stanley McChrystal. BP Plc Chief Executive Officer Tony Hayward. They have sparked some spirited discussions with crisis communications and leadership experts. How could savvy, high-visibility pros go so wrong?

Clearly, they both would have benefitted from a little more aiming and a lot less firing. But it would be a shame if our only lesson from their stunning blunders is to be afraid to take a risk.

Professional advisors are by nature risk-averse. Most of us were trained analytically. We want predictable, accurate results most of the time. It’s what clients pay us for.

But what if what we really need to do—sometimes—is to fire first? Interpreting a highly technical IRS guideline might not be the place to experiment. But choosing to stop working on—or delegating—a predictable (yet mind-numbing) revenue stream to create white space could be just the ticket.

Forging new territory never comes with a money-back guarantee. So yes, learn from the gaffes made by the warrior and the CEO. But don’t let it rob you of the courage to take a calculated risk.

Ready. Fire. Aim. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

Avoiding The Camel

Your work is giving—or, more precisely, selling—advice. How well are you selling yourself and your firm?

Let’s agree that being compelling to your sweet-spot clients is a must. Why then do so many firms—from 1-person shops to some mega names—insist on watering down what makes them distinct? Why do otherwise savvy partners fail to build a strong personal brand that aligns their talents and passions with their firm?

Three words: lizards, trolls and camels.

The lizard rules. The lizard is the part of us that is satisfied with the ordinary (for more about the lizard brain, read Seth Godin’s “Linchpins”). Reaching for more feels too risky. Unsafe. The website that says: “our service, our people, our technology are second to none” was written by the lizard. When you find yourself holding back, afraid to shoot higher, the lizard is in charge.

The troll appears. You overcome the lizard to firmly stake your territory—you publish an article, write a blog post, or make a bold statement in a speech. That’s when the trolls appear. Trolls are critics who take perverse pleasure in tearing others down. In fact, you haven’t conquered the lizard if you haven’t attracted a few trolls. Your job with trolls is simple. Ignore them. Engaging trolls only fires them up for more criticism. Who needs that? Let them go find someone else to annoy.

You create the camel. You’ve subdued the lizard enough to attempt something compelling, but haven’t quite been able to ignore the trolls. The result? Camel territory. Yes, the camel that was a horse drawn by committee. Camels are great if you’re crossing the desert, but most of us aren’t. While getting other inputs (especially in a partnership) is necessary and valuable, don’t let it dilute what makes you unique. Keep your focus on resonating with your sweet spot clients.

The secret to compelling marketing? Subdue the lizard. Ignore the troll. Avoid the camel.

Consulting Toolkit: Courage

It’s easy to think small right now. The economy isn’t pretty: clients say no or wait weeks and months getting to yes. Salaried consulting jobs have disappeared, perhaps forever. Personal assets? We’re in nosedive territory. Being conservative and cautious is an understandable by-product.

It doesn’t however, lead to making great leaps with your consulting practice.

The solution is courage. The courage to trust yourself (and your team) to continually develop your practice to suit your talents. The courage to care about your clients and bettering their condition. The courage to act while your competition is blinded by indecision and fear.

Clients still have work they need done right now—and the best opportunities will go to those who have the courage to:

Exquisitely focus on the results you uniquely deliver. Verbalize your niche, your “white space” and cast a tight net to those who most need what you have to offer.

Just say no. When a project—however enticing financially or to your ego—isn’t right for your talents, refer it to someone else. Your job is to spend your time where you can have the highest, best impact. Don’t waste it on work that someone less seasoned would do well.

When you say yes, mean it. Once you’ve agreed to a pivotal project, pour your head, heart and soul into it. Yes, it may mean some sleepless nights, some conflict over new directions and some worry over your bank account. But do it anyway.

If you need a visual, remember Canadian figure skater Joannie Rochette’s emotional performances that brought her to the Olympic medals platform.

Real winners put it all on the line.

What I Learned From David Maister

I read my first David Maister piece in the 90’s. And I was hooked. He was savvy, practical and unafraid to confront thorny issues inside professional service firms.

Recently, David announced his retirement after 30 years serving the consulting, legal and advisory professions. His has been an important voice, a man unafraid to challenge conventional thinking and a giving mentor to many. In his honor, here are the top 3 things I learned from David Maister.

Have the courage to care. It’s the only true inspiration for the discipline you need to invest regularly in your clients, your colleagues and your career. Develop your relationships with clients because you genuinely care what happens to them. Build an expertise because it intrigues you. Mentor a junior associate (or even a senior one) because you are excited by the possibilities. Many advisors learn to check their passion at the door in search of billable hours. Don’t do it!

Be a dynamo. You’ve got a choice. You can be a cruiser, which means doing high-quality work you are good at. Most highly competent professionals cruise at some point. But if you’re not learning something new, you will eventually become obsolete. Instead, be a dynamo. Act as though you’re still in the middle of an exciting career. Have a personal plan to grow your practice in new ways that excite you. Refer the highly repetitive work you can do in your sleep so you can move on to more exciting challenges.

Live your values. Stand for something that matters. Those words you write about mission and values need to mean something—and sometimes living up to them isn’t easy. You might have to say no to a lucrative assignment or ask a rainmaker to leave, or stop doing business with an alliance partner. But you do it anyway, because your values matter deeply.

So, thank you David Maister. May you enjoy a long, fulfilling retirement secure in the knowledge that you have helped so many of us be better at what we do. Anyone else care to share their favorite Maisterisms?