Blog

A few days ago, I wrote a post called ‘The Unused Prescription’.

The idea: just like a doctor’s prescription is useless unless we go and get the medicine, ours plans to fix a problem have little value until we put them into action.

I received two interesting replies which I thought were worth sharing.

Geoff shared that sometimes we don’t need “a plan to fix it”, but that we’re often better off scrapping what had to be fixed in the first place. For example, cumbersome processes in the workplace.

Andrew shared that sometimes coming up with a plan is enough to make the patient feel better. For example, a common strategy to reduce overprescription of antibiotics is to have the prescription valid from 2-3 days after the prescription is written, in case the patient gets better on their own. He wondered if similar situations happen in companies.

I like how both these points challenged my initial idea, and have expanded how I think about the unused prescription.

Thank you for the new ways of looking at this idea, gents!

Team, I can’t quite believe it, but it’s been a year since I started Dan’s Daily!

After hearing Seth and Rohan share the benefits of daily blogging in late 2018, it gnawed at me for half a year—I knew I wanted to do it, but I didn’t think I could keep up the habit.

The beginning was agonising; in the completely-avoidable self-inflicted sense. I spent hours writing each post. I stressed because I had no idea what I’d write about the next day. I was sheepish about my blog’s place in the world because my readership didn’t extend much farther than Maru and my Mum. And it was almost 2 months before I started telling anyone else about it.

But after a year, this blog has now started to feel like a friend—one I sit down with each day and tell them what I’ve been learning about or reflecting on.

Undoubtedly, though, my biggest thanks goes to you. Waking up each day to a few thoughtful replies to the latest post make this experience a delight. It feels less like a one way blogging street, and more like a conversation. Thank you for your generosity, wisdom, and for a few minutes of your time each day. I cherish it.

And so that concludes the project…

I’m kidding, I’ll be back tomorrow. This train hasn’t stopped yet, it’s just warming up.

I cut the small watermelon in half, held one of the two pieces like it was a bowl, sprinkled Tajin on it, attacked it with a spoon, and cleaned it out.

It was a summer treat that had me feeling like an adult and a child at the same time.

Watermelon was a treat when I was a kid, so buying my own feels like an adulthood thing. But enjoying it with a spon? Well, that made me feel like a kid again.

Here’s to summers, fresh fruit, and memories.

Maru and I are looking for a new apartment. We love our current flat—we’ve been here almost 4 years, which is a long time by my standards—but given the work-from-home forecast extending into 2021, we’re on the hunt for a slightly bigger place to accommodate for more time spent at home.

Additionally, when we realised asking rental prices in London have fallen 8-18% since the pandemic started, it gave us yet another reason to move.

House hunting during COVID isn’t easy, though. There are fewer viewing slots—this is to prevent having too many could-be tenants visiting a property at the same time. It’s a hazard to travel to and from flats if you need to use public transport. And letting agencies are strict about masks and social distancing rules.

Even without COVID, the best London flats are only on the market for a few days before getting snapped up, so there’s time pressure, too.

After viewing dozens of flats online, and visiting four, we found one we liked, and we put an offer 1 hour after viewing the flat.

Once you know—when it’s clear the opportunity is better, when it moves the needle, when it passes the test—move fast.

It applies to flat hunting in a big city, and many other life decisions.

P.S. Interestingly, rentals in London have fallen due to the tanking AirBnb market. The decline in tourists to the capital have forced many property owners—who lease out their flats via AirBnb—to turn to long term leases. The increased supply of properties into the long term lease market has driven down prices across the city.

Go one week without writing:

• Very
• Rather
• Really
• Quite
• In fact
• Actually
• Just (in the merely sense)
• Of course
• So (in the very sense)
• Pretty

I got the above from Benjamin Dreyer’s delightful book, ‘Dreyer’s English: An Utterly Correct Guide to Clarity and Style’. Dreyer has been a copyeditor for 30 years, and is currently copy chief at Random House; so he knows a thing or two about writing.

The above advice is powerful, and if put into practise, will see results.

Dreyer also provides two clarifications:

1. When you speak, you can still use these words. It’s hard to function as a human without them. Otherwise, people may think you’re a robot, or something.
2. Don’t let the rule stop your flow. If you write with the rule at the forefront of your mind, you may find it hard to get anything down. So write your first draft with any words that feel natural, and then go back and remove the above words from your prose.

Finally, the rule applies to all types of writing. Yes, even emails and text messages. Every sentence is an opportunity to get better.

If you’ve identified the symptom, travelled to the doctor, received a diagnosis, and have a prescription in hand, why stop short of the pharmacy?

I find it strange, then, when I hear stories of teams in the workplace who identify a problem, come up with a plan to fix it, and then… nothing happens.

The unused prescription amounts to nothing.

Today, I share a collection of ideas on: doing the work we were called to do.

The ideas are connected, but they were penned with a distance of almost 200 years between the earliest and the most recent.

Wherever you are on your journey, and whatever it is you were called to do, I hope the following passages spur you on.

“Until one is committed there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back; ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: The moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issue from the decision, raising in one’s favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and assistance, which no one could have dreamt would come their way.” —W. H. Murray; The Scottish Himalayan Expedition (1951)

“Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!”
—Johan Wolfgang von Goethe; Faust (1808)

“When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”—Paulo Coelho; The Alchemist (1988)

I recently received a piece of feedback on something I wrote. It went like this, “It’s a bit cliche.”

I used to fret over this kind of feedback. I used to worry. I used to scurry into a corner and hide.

Over the last 2-3 years, though, I’ve (mostly) unlearned those habits.

Don’t get me wrong, I still care. I pay close attention to the criticism and figure out what I can do better, but I no longer flinch like I used to.

Being overly precious about our work leads to paralysis. We start to second guess ourselves, instead of focusing on getting better.

So next time you receive criticism, steel yourself, try and find the good, don’t flinch, and keep producing.

I love this piece of writing advice from acclaimed author, Neil Gaiman.

“When someone tells you something is wrong, they are almost always right. When someone tells you how to fix it, they’re almost always wrong.”

It’s great writing advice, but it’s also good advice for other creative projects, too.

Many people are able to tell when something doesn’t feel right, but few have the ability to articulate why, and how to fix it.

So here’s a few simple rules I’m experimenting with:

1. Seek feedback from friends, family, and your creative community.
2. But when something feels “wrong” to them, don’t depend on their advice for how to fix it; take personal responsibility for finding the answer.

One of my mum’s mantras—repeated to me throughout childhood…and beyond—is, “It’s not how you start, it’s how you finish.”

I’ve been thinking about this mantra recently as I’ve got some creative projects I’ve been meaning to complete, but I’ve been procrastinating.

One of the benefits of this blog is I get to externalise my learnings, reflections, and self-kick-in-the-pants moments.

Sharing mantras like the above help me on my journey, and here’s hoping they help others who have been thinking similarly about their own projects.

I typically can’t get through more than 15 mins of any TV series episode before falling asleep. It’s a quirk that makes it almost impossible for Maru and I to watch shows together.

The above has been true for many years, until… Outlander.

Outlander is the story of Claire Randall, a WWII nurse from 1945 who gets swept back in time to Scotland in 1743. It follows her journey as she navigates this unknown world, and her attempt to get back to the present day.

I’m not usually fan of historical dramas, and if I’m being honest, I thought Outlander was going to be a dud, but it completely surprised me.

The characters are deep and conflicted; they’re an amazing insight into a previous era. The interplay between the past and the present adds dimensions and consequences to the story that make it richer than more linear tales.

So instead of falling asleep within 15 minutes of an episode beginning, I’ve finally found myself in the can-I-squeeze-in-another-episode-before-bed-? zone.

If you’re on the hunt for a new show, check this one out!

I went to a restaurant today—it’s the first time I’ve been to one since the lockdown started in March.

It had a large outdoor space with well-distributed tables. There were hand sanitiser stations every 10 metres, and two bottles of the stuff on each table. Large stickers on the ground delineated where you could walk, and where you needed to keep distance from others. The staff all wore masks, and encouraged contactless payment.

Interestingly, the new normal felt easy.

The changes didn’t seem cumbersome to the restaurant, nor to the customers. Everyone has simply made adjustments to return to some semblance of normality, and today gave me hope that we can keep this up for quite some time; or at least until there is a widely available vaccine.

“Never let an hour go by without giving credit to someone,” says Patricia Ryan Madsen in her book, Improv Wisdom.

I’ve reflected on these words regularly over the past year and a half.

It only takes little extra effort to be clear, specific, and generous with our praise. But when we do, and when we’re genuine, it’s a currency that compounds at a miraculous rate.

Creativity is the magic sauce.

Companies crave it. Artists pursue it. Hustlers fake it.

It’s something everyone wants, but it’s something only a rare few can deliver reliably.

So here’s what I’m pondering: to what extent is creativity simply a by-product of curiosity?

It’s damn hard to “be more creative,” but it’s not that hard to “be more curious.”

In my own experience, there’s a positive correlation between the best people I’ve worked with, and those that are insatiably curious. These folks ask question after question, not stopping until they deeply understand how something works. And at the end of that long tunnel of curiosity, they emerge with an insight that no one else saw, or a new way of framing a problem.

So what if curiosity was a reliable way to be more creative? How would it change the way you approach your work and your art?

A blog post may sit in my drafts for months before being published.

Ideas rarely come fully formed. Like sand stirred up in a glass of water, it may take days for the particles to settle before I can see clearly through the glass.

“Writing is re-writing,” says William Zinsser in ‘On Writing Well’. It feels uncomfortable, but that’s the point. Re-writing is the point.

Allowing space between drafts or sessions is a helpful lesson to remember in writing, music, art, or business.