Seth’s The Practice: Maybe it’s not for me

I’m not sure I want to be the professional that Seth advocates for—and, as Seth would say, that’s okay. It’s just not for me.

Note: Links in this post may be affiliate links, which means I’ll receive a commission, at no extra charge to you, if you make a purchase through such a link. Learn more here.

For a bit over two months, I’ve managed to post almost daily, jotting notes and thoughts about Seth Godin’s The Practice. Some posts were brief—I didn’t think I had much to consider at that moment. Others were more extensive, wrestling with ideas that challenged my thinking.

In one of my later posts, I noted a new distinction that Seth drew, between the professional and the amateur. This distinction clarified a central challenge that I’d been dealing with: Seth’s notion that the practice—what the professional does to ship creative work—is generously directed at someone, as opposed to everyone.

Up to that point, I’d recognized that neither of those options fit my current attitude; when I (bother to) create, I don’t do so for “the masses,” or a large audience, or the lowest common denominator (“everyone”). But I don’t create for any particular audience, either (“someone”). Instead, I make things more or less for myself, and welcome “anyone” who wants to eavesdrop.

That, I learned, was the attitude of what Seth calls the amateur. He doesn’t mean the term pejoratively; he says the amateur “can be admirable, even heroic.” But, of course, the purpose of his book is meant to create and support professionals. And I’m not sure that’s me.

I am a little uncomfortable admitting that. The image of a generous professional is enticing, and turning my back on that does feel selfish, at least to some extent. However, Seth’s take on art, and on the type of commitment it takes to create art, isn’t the only way to look at things.

I recently heard Rick Ruben interview T-Bone Burnett; they discussed something that echoes my view:

Ruben, re: making art: “When we’re making these things, the audience comes last.”

T-Bone: “That’s what I think, too. I agree. I don’t believe you can do it for the audience.”

Ruben: “I know that if we can make something that we like, there’s a better chance that someone else is going to like it, than if we make what we don’t like, but think that someone else is going to like. That seems impossible.”

T-Bone Burnett is a favorite of mine, and Ruben—though perhaps a bit more mystical than I buy—has earned his reputation as an eclectic and successful producer, and my confirmation bias is perhaps justified when my views align with people like them.

I’m not abandoning the book; I’m just abandoning the chapter-per-day format. Seth has challenged me in interesting ways, and I still expect that he’ll offer practical suggestions that I can use to ship my creative work. That expectation was the reason I picked up the book in the first place.

And who knows, maybe by the time I’ve finished, he’ll have convinced me that it really was for me.

Top photo by Tim Foster on Unsplash

This series was meant to capture my thoughts as I worked through Seth Godin’s The Practice. It’s a book with over 200 (very short) chapters, which I hope to work through and, I further hope, to implement over time. As the above post explains, I made it through 89 chapters before deciding that I don’t do the chapter-a-day format any more—at least, not for now.

If you’re interested in more of Godin’s ideas, or my thoughts about them, you can check out this collection of posts. Note that if you’re more interested in the former, you should probably get Godin’s book and read it yourself; my notes will be both incomplete and idiosyncratic, and my thoughts will relate to my own experience.

But if my thoughts resonate with you, or if you think I’m just silly, I welcome your comments.