Next Monday, March 28th at 2PM central, I’ll be interviewing Oliver Burkeman about his work and his book, Four Thousand Weeks. You can set a reminder to tune in via YouTube:
This was really fun. Watch my chat with Oliver on Youtube:
Next Monday, March 28th at 2PM central, I’ll be interviewing Oliver Burkeman about his work and his book, Four Thousand Weeks. You can set a reminder to tune in via YouTube:
This was really fun. Watch my chat with Oliver on Youtube:
In the comments of my newsletter on interviewing and wanting to be a better listener, a reader told me about an acronym people in the coaching world use frequently: WAIT, which stands for “Why Am I Talking?”
There’s something about this acronym that is more helpful and hits much harder than my usual “Shut up and listen” mantra.
I’ve taken to giving myself temporary tattoos on my arm:
I just spent the week doing promotion for the Steal Like an Artist 10th anniversary, and WAIT took on a different meaning: Why am I talking here? What am I trying to do with my words? It sort of kept me “on point.”
We are just about to break ground on my new studio. Construction always takes about twice as long as you think it will, so the WAIT on my wrist tells me to relax, stay calm, the days will accumulate.
Related reading: Hit pause
In today’s newsletter — free for everyone to read! — is the story of how Steal Like an Artist came into the world.
jeen-yuhs: A Kanye Trilogy is way too long and not critical enough of its subject — Sasha Frere-Jones called it “a four hour timesuck” — but I loved this scene with Rhymefest, which had the same energy of this great scene in Wes Anderson’s The Royal Tenenbaums…
Related reading: “Fevered Egos.”
There’s a great bit in Mel Brooks’ memoir All About Me about how to deal with bosses with bad ideas: “Always agree with them, but never do a thing they say.”
He put it a bit more colorfully in an interview with Michael Shulman in The New Yorker:
You have some wonderful stories of basically getting away with stuff at the studios.
I’d learned one very simple trick: say yes. Simply say yes. Like Joseph E. Levine, on “The Producers,” said, “The curly-haired guy—he’s funny looking. Fire him.” He wanted me to fire Gene Wilder. And I said, “Yes, he’s gone. I’m firing him.” I never did. But he forgot. After the screening of “Blazing Saddles,” the head of Warner Bros. threw me into the manager’s office, gave me a legal pad and a pencil, and gave me maybe twenty notes. He would have changed “Blazing Saddles” from a daring, funny, crazy picture to a stultified, dull, dusty old Western. He said, “No farting.” I said, “It’s out.”
That’s probably the most famous scene in the movie, the campfire scene.
I know. He said, “You can’t punch a horse.” I said, “You’ll never see it again.” I kept saying, “You’re absolutely right. It’s out!” Then, when he left, I crumpled up all his notes, and I tossed it in the wastepaper basket. And John Calley, who was running [production at] Warner Bros. at the time, said, “Good filing.” That was the end of it. You say yes, and you never do it.
That’s great advice for life.
It is. Don’t fight them. Don’t waste your time struggling with them and trying to make sense to them. They’ll never understand.
As a reader pointed out to me, this also works with toddlers. (And many other kinds of humans.)
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