I tend to attach qualifiers to John’s work. “Yeah, I like John, but I’ve been listening to him since the Eddie’s Attic bootlegs.” Or something less honest like, “I’m a John Mayer fan, but I like his album cuts, not those bubblegum singles.” That’s not fair. Do I like “Daughters”? No. But am I a fan of “Your Body Is A Wonderland”? Absolutely. Still I find myself skirting the subject. It’s a correlation I try to avoid when people listen to my own music and guess at its roots.

It would be easy to create a John Mayer laundry list of reasons for anyone to wish they had John’s career, but the success is not the point. If you have your own John Mayer and their success is your roadblock you need to rethink your frustrations. Sure, John’s level of success is rare, but in itself it is something anyone can strive for. The issue is my relation to his body of work. I’ve had this crutch since long before I knew being John Mayer meant sleeping with Jennifer Aniston and getting praised by Eric Clapton.

Now when I go back and listen to “Inside Wants Out” it is admittedly good, but if I were just discovering the record it would probably only hold a passing interest. “Inside Wants Out” is where I was at 20. The thing about John’s work is the synchornicity. I get a record, I obsess over it, I decide I’ve outgrown it and leave it behind. Then a new record drops and John seems to have grown in parallel with my own life even as I thought I was breaking away.

This is a dangerous relationship for anyone creative. Left unchecked it can be paralyzing because with each change and growth in life it is easy to feel the work has already been done for you. That someone has already said it better. I wouldn’t discourage having your own cornerstone in any form of art- Dylan had Woody Gutherie, Marvin had Sam Cooke, but once you identify a dependent relationship on someone else’s art you damn well better watch your moves and think about where you are going. It is too easy to get stuck in the trap of subconsciously asking “what would John Mayer do?” And with a deep enough knowledge of that artist the answer is easy, you can hammer their response to that chord progression right out, but you are no longer making art. You are creating second hand.

So how can you break out of this? I set limitations. I don’t deny myself the music, that seems counter productive. If something inspires you it should be investigated down to a molecular level. But I have periods of indulgence I allow and then force myself to turn off the stream. During spaces of creativity, when I am working on new music, I listen to everything I can get my hands on, except John Mayer. His music is so ingrained that without restraints I begin copying without realizing it, snagging lines, mannerisms, chord progressions. And while I am a great fan of reinterpreting stolen bits of art, I draw the line at the places that hit closest to home. It keeps me honest. Keeps me working towards my own goals and not projecting myself onstage when I hear “My Stupid Mouth”. And most importantly, when someone says, “I can hear a little John Mayer in your music” I don’t hastily respond, “John who?”

At 44 years old Miles released “A Tribute To Jack Johnson”. The record found him pulling notes from the clouds, blurting upper register frenzies from cover to cover. This new range continued throughout Miles’ 70’s electric period, his bands with Michael Henderson found him continually reaching for the stars. Years later in his autobiography Miles said of this period that suddenly he had begun to hear the upper register. After three decades as a professional musician, Miles had new ears.

I have spent the past nine years of my life dreaming of music, obsessing over dusty record bins, boring my wife and friends with the mundane of circumstances of an artists recording session or their use of deceptive resolution. During this time I could not hear the bass. It was a strange paradox, a native son of hip-hop who literally had no ear for the bottom end. During the most creative period of my life I spent several months emailing beats back and forth with a friend in San Francisco. Listening back now almost no bass lines exist on the tracks we created together.

In the past two years I have been a little absent from music. I got a job, got married and forgot why I wanted to be famous. But in recent months a change has begun. Suddenly I hear the lower register. Not only do I hear it, it is all I hear. I find myself hollering on my commute to work when Maxwell’s bassist changes his rhythmic pattern unexpectedly.

It’s funny this is just coming to the surface. My favorite moments playing guitar were the trancelike states that emerged from repeating the same one bar James Brown riff for eleven minutes on end.  I may never know why it didn’t occur to me that a soul and funk obsessed musician with a pension for monotonous repetition would be well suited for bass.

What is important is that I have new ears, perhaps for the first time in my musical life. While I hope that most musicians are able to experience this significant a transformation without the urge to put down the instrument they have spent a lifetime mastering, it is a feeling that would be well worth the new challenges were that to happen. It is a liberating experience to have your entire sonic world turned on its ear. I hope you can one day relate to the feeling.

Repeated like a mantra by both men was the statement- don’t minimize risk. “Instead do risky things,” says Catmull, “If you want to be original, you have to accept the uncertainty, even when it’s uncomfortable.” It is the fear of risk and resulting failure that directly hampers creativity. Brad Bird encourages his co-workers to, “do something that scares you, that’s at the edge of your capabilities.” Ed Catmull adds to that idea with, “if we aren’t always at least a little scared, we’re not doing our job.”

I love this idea that at a company with hundreds of millions of dollars at stake on any given project there is still a freedom to walk right out to the precipice and look down. Instead of harping on potential failures, Ed Catmull says Pixar works to “build the capability to recover when failures occur.” They do this by collectively pooling talents, and using dailies as a way to collaborate and discuss areas for improvement. Catmull also notes that there is no reliance on a single “high concept.” Instead he says, “Don’t focus on a single idea. There is no single idea. The importance is in the guiding and filtering of thousands of ideas generated by the collective.”

The final key is something I’ve always held Miles Davis and Neil Young in high regard for- foster a restless artistic spirit. Brad Bird cautions, “worry about being complacent. In areas of past success, guard against simply repeating successful formulas.” When Brad was asked to join Pixar by Ed and Steve Jobs, Pixar had been successful with toys and fish, but had been unable to create believable human characters. Brad immediately got to work on The Incredibles. The film had more backgrounds and locations than any previous Pixar film, and it starred a human family. After the success of The Incredibles Brad went on to direct Ratatouille, which had stagnated in production for nearly 5 years before Brad took the helm. Catmull summed up how Pixar fosters this restless nature to the Harvard Business Review, “Be clear that things never stay the same. We must constantly challenge all of our assumptions and search for the flaws that could destroy our culture.”

So what should we fail at? Everything, or at least almost everything. Don’t fail at marriage, friendship, or loyalty, almost everything else if fair game. Creativity is something at which we can, and should, afford to fail. As Twyla Tharp points out in The Creative Habit, much of this failure can be done in private, stretching past your comfort zone to discover new spaces. Failing in private can help reduce the number of failures we share with the public. Still, public failure should not be something that deters forward progress.

As a teen Charlie Parker was chased off the stage by having cymbals thrown at his feet mid-solo, Van Gogh sold only one painting during his lifetime, Emily Dickinson published less than a dozen poems, and everyone knows the story of Michael Jordan failing to make the varsity team his sophomore year. If you follow the career of anyone you deem truly successful you will find moments of perseverance, when they refused to be held down.

I would make the argument for setting almost unreasonably high goals, for “reaching for the stars”. In this regard I am happy to sound cheesy or naive. As a child we were all told we could do anything. At age 5, when asked what you want to be when you grow up, the answers Fireman, Astronaut, and Elephant are all met with the same warm smile and “good for you”. Maybe I have no hope of being an Elephant, but I cling to the belief that given the work ethic anything else is within my grasp. You should too.

There are a few tools to help you survive. First, even if it feels excessive, return regularly to your plans for quitting. Are you quitting everything you should be quitting? There is a difference between fighting your way through the dip, and languishing in an unprofitable endeavor. For each task on your list ask yourself, “does this further my end goals?” If the answer is no you must quit.

Second, recognize the positive situation at hand. At times the dip can be discouraging, which is why most people don’t emerge on the other side. The repeated theme of The Dip is adversity creates scarcity, scarcity creates value. When you get frustrated, Godin reminds, “adversity is an ally, the harder it gets, the better chance you have of insulating yourself from competition.” Always keep in mind we get frustrated in the dip for the same reason the end reward is so exponentially great, because the curve to success is so steep. If you can see this barrier as an advantage you are one step closer to success.

Most importantly, build a support team. As we have seen, success in the dip requires specialization. A support team rounds out your skill set, but it also gives you the encouragement to continue your own trek up and out of the dip. Many of us get trapped into believing we can do everything better, but the most successful people surround themselves with the brightest, most talented team available. “Giving up control and leaning into the organization gives you leverage” says Godin. This step is non-negotiable. Take a look at any model for success. Even those who developed the work alone, such as Hemmingway or Bob Dylan, had a network to lean on for encouragement and inspiration.

This process does not guarantee success. Much of that is left to your fortitude and discipline in the face of adversity. But planning ahead and coming armed with these tools will certainly improve your odds.

Note: This article is part 3 in a 3 part series on Seth Godin’s book The Dip. If you missed it, go back to part 1 and part 2.

To read more about The Dip I suggest you purchase The Dip by Seth Godin. Seth is a writer/blog/marketing evangelist with several best selling books on business and marketing. I also recommend checking out his blog and his book website for The Dip.

This requires sacrifice. We have all been taught to value well rounded people. But in order to reach the pinnacle of any worthwhile endeavor, you will have to give up this perceived value of a broad skill set. The dip is about specialization and about being the best in the world. Godin points out a fallacy in education that anyone who reads books of this nature are likely to abide by, “Hardworking, motivated people find diversification a natural outlet for their energy and drive…and yet the real success goes to those who obsess.” With the rare exception of a Bach or Michelangelo, we must sacrifice diversity to succeed.

This specialization means quitting. It means quitting a lot. Godin insists, “quitting regularly to free up the resources to invest in the right business”. Before beginning define what conditions will cause you to quit. Quitting in a frustration or in a panic is amateur. If you want to open a restaurant, map out at exactly what loss of margin and what decline in customer base will cause you to quit. The failure in quitting is not realizing when to quit. Like the restaurant owner who peddles Italian one week and Thai the next, grappling at gimmicks as he watches his business sink.

Lets be clear on what quitting means. Quitting is always a strategy for furthering ones end goals. That means our rock star should never quit music. But if his profession is drumming, he may not have time to learn guitar, produce other artists, and pursue photography on the side. Quit products or features within your market, never quit the market. Quitting the market itself can lead to cyclical short-term quitting. The market is something you are passionate about. Simply walking away may bring back the itch at a later time, causing you to have to begin the dip all over again. Quitting is a long term strategy, not a short term fix.

Note: This article is part 2 in a 3 part series on Seth Godin’s book The Dip. The final installment in this series will discuss leaning into the dip and building a support team. If you missed it, go back to part 1 or read ahead to part 3.

To read more about The Dip I suggest you purchase The Dip by Seth Godin. Seth is a writer/blog/marketing evangelist with several best selling books on business and marketing. I also recommend checking out his blog and his book website for The Dip.

So how can you know what to quit? “The Dip” is based on intensive planning, not knee-jerk reactions. You quit because you planned to quit. What this requires is a clear picture of what success means to you. Say want to be a rock star. Will regional club gigs, a local residency and a loyal fan base cover it, or do you need a Columbia Records contract and sold out shows at Shea Stadium? Be honest and be as specific as possible. Not defining where you are going makes it tough to know when you’re getting off track, and just as frustrating, it makes it impossible to know when you’ve arrived.

When considering these goals think about your market. As Godin points out, “best” in any market is subjective according to the individual and their “world” is a selfish definition based on what each person has access to. This means “best in the world” in a regional market is entirely different from a national or international market. Defining your goals means defining your market and considering what is required to reach that market. If you need to sell out Shea Stadium think about who already does that: Bruce Springsteen, The Rolling Stones, U2. You have a lot of work ahead of you, but you also have models to work from.

These models of success help exemplify the work, resources, and output necessary for a given market. Godin calls this balance “creating pressure”. This is your Goldilocks space. Not too hot, not too cold, but just right. Once you have defined your target market take stock of your resources. How much money and time do you have for this venture. If these resources match with your defined market it’s time to get to work. If your assessment shows you have enough resources to easily flood the market, perhaps you should pursue a larger goal. The same rings true if you currently have limited resources available. Want to be a rockstar but you work 9 to 5 with only Saturday nights free? That’s ok, but perhaps your first target market should be performing as a regional act and building up demand for future growth, not packing Madison Square Garden.

An important note: When considering resources commitment to getting through the dip, regardless of its size, should never be in question. If commitment is a limited resource quit now.  You will be saving yourself both time and effort.

Note: This article is part 1 in a 3 part series on Seth Godin book The Dip. The next installment in this series will discuss how to marshal your resources in order to increase the likelihood of success. Read ahead to part 2 and part 3.

To read more about The Dip I suggest you purchase The Dip by Seth Godin. Seth is a writer/blog/marketing evangelist with several best selling books on business and marketing. I also recommend checking out his blog and his book website for The Dip.

First of all, Blackberry is the king of mobile email. Their email client makes it easy to add multiple email addresses, and the large font size stretching the full length of the screen makes it easy to quickly read a message. Support for HTML email is moderate to poor, but I have found that HTML only emails are often still legible, they simply have empty boxes in place of large images. Creating messages is a snap. The QWERTY keyboard, while a tad small, has a good tactile feel and the To: and Cc: fields have great features like auto inserting the @ and ‘.’ in email addresses.

Web browsing itself can be a bit more difficult. I use both the Blackberry browser as well as Opera Mini and am much more satisfied with the Blackberry offering. While Opera does a better job of rendering a site as it would appear on my laptop, it has a tendency to de-emphasize text. This makes reading almost any non-mobile site a challenge. The Blackberry browser has a zoom feature which automatically appears when a site first loads. The difficulty with this feature is at times the zoom tool tip will disappear right as you hover over your target. It can create an awkward situation where you have to locate a tiny space just to the side of your target area and try to hold the tool tip still as you click the track ball. Still, even on the edge network load times are typically reasonable and most sites are navigable as long as you don’t have visual impairment issues.

The OS navigation is fairly intuitive, even if many of the icons suffer from similar appearance. And learning hotkeys like Alt+Escape to quickly switch programs helps accelerate the process. Blackberry has a few included programs I really like including the camera interface, and voice notes recorder. Both work almost exactly the same in terms of menus and navigation. Most importantly, both programs make it extremely easy to email or upload your media. While driving I can easily record a voice note and email it to myself with less attention than it takes to dial a contact.

Finally I use a number of third party apps. The most notable include TwitterBerry, Viigo, and Remember the Milk. With the possible exception of Viigo, it feels like developers aren’t intent on designing truly usable Blackberry apps at the moment. Perhaps this is due to the lack of an Apps store like the iPhone and G1, though Blackberry plans to launch their own store in the coming weeks (since this writing the Blackberry Apps World is now live). Programs like Twitterberry make no use of intuitive navigation, requiring the user experiment with the Escape and Menu buttons on various pages to find all of the available features. Font size is typically unforgivably small on these applications. Even with 20/20 vision I have to hold my Blackberry to my nose at times to read through my twitter timeline. Again the exception to this is Viigo, which is the best RSS feed reader I’ve found on Blackberry. It gives the feed the entire width of the screen and utilizes the same font size you have set for email and other tasks which makes reading blog updates extremely easy.

Ultimately Blackberry still feels a little business-centric, even on the consumer targeted Curve. The navigation is good but I’d like to see a few more customization options and a better web browser interface. But text functions such as email and SMS are still unrivaled and the QWERTY keyboard makes two thumbed typing lightning fast. Where I hope to see the biggest improvements is in 3rd party apps. As the app store brings developers and consumers under one roof, hopefully applications will stop resembling retooled, dumbed down versions of iPhone apps and begin utilizing the inherent assets of a Blackberry.

edit: Since writing this I poured half a Starbucks Venti over my car console, including my Blackberry Curve. I popped out the battery, sprayed the keys out with a CO2 canister at work, and dropped then handset in a bowl of rice overnight to absorb the moisture. The next morning it fired up with no ill effects.

In writing circles these are often called workshops, and a similar practice required of every department at Pixar is referred to as dailies (because employees must share their work at the end of each day). The important point of this process, regardless of the field or frequency, is the community. While you may wish to also share work with trusted friends or family, they are not invited to this group. Instead group membership for the practice of workshops or dailies is dependent upon individual contribution. Everyone must submit work or the process breaks down.

The significance of this rule levels the playing field. The group often settles in after a few meetings when they realize that everyone present is capable of making a fool out of themselves and submitting crap. The key is to surround yourself with creative people who are naturally competitive, but are not directly competing with you. A little good-hearted competition helps to push the entire group to grow. People who compete directly with your own work however will often attack your submissions.

This type of peer review depends entirely on preventing this type of malicious criticism. There has to be a commitment to honesty and constructive comments. It is one thing to point out someone’s second verse weakens the storyline and another to ask why they would make such a stupid mistake. This seems simple, but it must be vehemently defended and cultivated. The safety of the group is what allows people to share and grow in their work, and without that feeling the group will quickly disappear.

This group is one of my favorite creative spaces, and something I love moderating. It pushes each member to step their game up to hold pace with the group, which then snowballs. The group gets better, so individuals have to rapidly improve again, which makes the group better, etc. For anyone serious about creative growth, one of the most powerful things you can do for yourself is to form up Voltron. Collect a circle of friends at your house once a week, or meet up with like-minded strangers at a coffee shop. In every successful group I have been a member of I have seen an intense growth in my own work. Learning to both give and receive criticism is one of the best things anyone can do for themselves.

When we hear cliche our attention drifts. Maybe we don’t change the channel or click the back button on the browser, but our commitment to what is in front of us is diminished. Over the past year we have become immune to fast food cracks about cheeseburger economics and sub sandwich bailouts. There is no longer a differentiator when Wendy’s is touting their dollar menu using the “we know money is tight” angle because Dominoes, Subway, and Burger King all have the same commercial.

The easy solution to this comes through discipline and attention. Whatever you spend your time on be aware of current trends and the historical arc of your field. That sounds simple, but I see trailers for the same movies over and over again each year. Someone has already written the “street kid makes good on dance career by meeting a troubled white girl” movie. I think Julia Stiles was in at least two of those. Please don’t write it again. In order to avoid this keep a cliche notebook, or text or clippings file. Anything that you can flip through on occasion to help point out cliches you may have overlooked.

This doesn’t mean a guitarist has to abandon his Hendrix licks or a songwriter can’t write about a breakup. Instead keep a list of things that numb your audience and then commit to always editing out those items. It is fine if your initial conception of an idea includes cliche. They are so ingrained in the public consciousness one is bound to sneak up on you now and again. But during the rewrite process you must commit to gutting every offender. If this leaves you with only one good verse, or no end to the second act of your play, then so be it. We’re not here because creating is easy. Your art and your audience will both grow in quality by forcing yourself to forge new paths.