Alec

McNayr

BBC America shows reruns of Gordon Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares, and if you haven’t seen any episodes, it’s worth a watch.  Before he made it big with Hell’s Kitchen, Gordon traveled around the world walking into the emptiest, dirtiest, and shoddiest restaurants, and shaping them up in less than a week.

It’s the best type of reality TV; every owner is on the brink of bankruptcy, suffering from a tragic balance of professional ego and personal shame.  And by the end of an hour, they have a fresh new start.

After watching about seven episodes now, I see a bit of a formula of what it takes, in Gordon’s mind, to run a successful restaurant.  And — big surprise — they’re lessons I can apply to my own creative work.

• Never send out crap. Often, the chef is running behind and sends out sub-par food to “get ahead” in his or her orders.  Never a good idea.  The only reason people come to your restaurant is to get a good meal.  If they don’t get that, then the core value of your business is wasted.  As a creative, I’m continually challenged to never settle on sub-par work, in favor of appeasing the client or getting it out the door.
• Put a sign up. On the show, many restaurants don’t have a well-lit sign in front of their business.  They’re hoping that customers will.  In my world, it means that you should have a business name, a pitch, a business card, a web site worth spending more than 8 seconds on.
• Make it simple in order to stand out. Often the menu is crazy complicated.  Mixes, sauces, meats, etc.  Never one single direction, but the owner’s “unique take on food,” which they believe will propel them to notoriety and success.  Gordon always makes over the menu, and normally cuts it in half.  And they balk at being good at simple things like “steaks.”  But “steaks” are what the people want!  How many items are on your creative menu?  Are you sacrificing quality for quantity?  Are you claiming to specialize in something that no one wants?
• Change the scenery. Gordon’s unseen “design team” always makes over the restaurant.  For the show, it’s a big reveal, but I’m consistently underwhelmed by what they do.  But it always makes a huge difference to the people working there.  Like to the point of tears.  Maybe just a little sprucing up can make a big difference.  If you’re stuck in a rut, change your view.  Your desk.  Your office.  People resist change, but they embrace investment.

Just some lessons I’m hearing and applying to my own life.  Any of these strike a chord for you?

[A part of my continued Pursuing Creativity series.]

[Spoiler Alert: Light spoilers.  Don't read if you don't want to know what happens at the end of Season 3.]

What do you expect?

Unfulfilled expectations are the death of any creative-type, or anyone, for that matter.

At the end of Season 3 of Mad Men (one of my favorite shows on TV, hands down), Don Draper, the world’s best ad man (in his own mind… but then again, no one does anything great without first thinking that he is worthy or capable of undertaking it… right?), is starting off on a new adventure…

As Roger Sterling and Don Draper look at their old offices for what could be the last time, Roger asks, “How long do you think it will take us to be in a place like this again?” Don replies, “I never saw myself working in a place like this.”

Work as if you’ll never get glory or wealth (or pay, for that matter), and you’ll find a jagged stone of some original, creative idea.  Ugly, but yours.  Polish that stone for a while, and you’ll have a diamond.  Maybe.  But if you did it for the love, and not for the money, it will be worthwhile.

I just asked my wife what I should write about, and without a thought, she answered, “Maybe you can write about Jack.”

By “Jack,” she means Jack Skelington from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Some backstory: when October 1st comes around every year, our house gets transformed into a scare palace, and the 1993 Tim Burton masterpiece goes into our DVD player.  And it doesn’t leave for 31 days.  I had no idea this would happen when I said “I do,” but it’s a pleasant surprise.

In the movie, Jack is very successful at his job: scaring people.  His whole world is wrapped around his innate talent.  Everyone pats Jack on the back for doing his job so well.  But he’s frustrated with the monotony.

What does he do?  He changes his world.  He goes to “Christmasland,” where his talents are so unique that they’re shocking to people.  They literally change the world, in a Guy Kawasaki-type way.

As I try to apply this to the business of creativity, I consider my own hodge-podge of skills.  Writing and comedy.  Graphic design, Photoshop, and photography. Presentations and public speaking.  I’m always trying to apply them in a better way than others, but what about applying them to a new world?

I’m pursuing a career in TV screenwriting, and I’ve been thinking about how my skills beyond screenwriting will make me stand out there.  Coming from the worlds of marketing and online media, my skills may be shocking in a world that seems so rigidly defined.  I’m hoping it will make me stand out…

My tagline for myself: “A new breed of TV showrunner, a writer with an eye for digital media and marketing.” Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but it’s a start.

What are you good at?  Is it the same thing as 1,000 other people?  That level of competition makes you irrelevant; the line is too long to compete head-to-head.  So put yourself in a new world… one that makes you unique.  Stand out!

[Posted in the Pursuing Creativity series]

A few years ago, I found myself with all kinds of angst about my career trajectory.  I was fully employed at a good job, doing creative projects on the side, but always stressed out about “what I was doing with my life.”  Maybe you have that problem, too.  I call it “your 20s.”

What helps me now?  A saying.

Do the work.  Do the work.

It’s a mantra I picked up while doing an interview for Script Magazine (“Big Names Change the Online Game”).  I was talking to Justine Bateman, Jill Kushner, and Wizards of Waverly Place EP Peter Murrieta, and during the interview, Peter took a call from what must have been a stressed-out, unsure understudy of his.  Like an AA sponsor to an addict about to take a sip, he said, “I don’t care if you’re tired, do the work.  If you’re frustrated, do the work.  If you’re sick, do the work.  No matter what, just do the work.”

It was probably the most poignant thing I personally received from the interview, and it happened in the background while trying to listen and take notes from Justine and Jill.

There’s some calming wisdom in those words.  That inborn talent matters little in the face of time.

When it comes to “honing your craft” or “getting good-er” or “putting in your “10,000 hours,” it’s all about getting better, step by step, at something that is really hard (like screenwriting, photography, lawyering, painting, negotiating, or anything that takes artistry).

Unfortunately, the AA analogy holds up.  We’re all a little addicted to ‘Not Doing the Work.’

It’s just too easy to get distracted.  To go to bed early.  To have “weekends.”

However, the people that succeed in anything worthwhile find a way to overcome that addiction and do a little bit of work every day.  Find that nanometer of improvement.  Over time, it adds up.

As for me, I’m not too worried any longer.  I’m on a journey to improvement, and I don’t expect the fast results I did a few years back.  I can’t stress about it.  I’m too busy doing the work.

Further reading on this subject: Ignore Everybody: and 39 Other Keys to Creativity by Hugh MacLeod, The Dip: A Little Book That Teaches You When to Quit (and When to Stick) by Seth Godin, Outliers: The Story of Success by Malcolm Gladwell (“10,000 hours”), and Stephen King’s On Writing (“Get a closet and write there everyday.”).

[This is will be part of a series of posts under the Pursuing Creativity banner.]