Solitude First, Collaboration Second

Ideas are like seeds with their own mysterious agenda. They can be planted carefully, but you really can't dictate what kind of forest they'll become.

Lonewolf's like myself will swear that our best work emerges from silence.

It's almost an indescribable feeling when you're by yourself, doing your own work in a semi-quiet or fully quiet place where your thoughts can crystallize without interference.

In solitude, you're neither performing for anyone nor adjusting your thoughts mid-stream to accommodate other perspectives.

Just listening to what wants to emerge.

I think the closest description is something like entering a flow state, which could well be an aspect of the situation mentioned above.

Whereas when working with other people, there's always this false note ringing in the background, chaos is about to descend thanks to the differences on priorities, working styles, and even the ambient energy levels in the room.

That "false note" isn't necessarily bad if it's understood as the natural friction of different creative energies seeking validation.

But you still wouldn't want it hanging over the initial creative birth when you're trying to catch lightning in a bottle, would you?

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Premature collaboration can muddy the waters before the idea has had a chance to find its own shape.

Ironically, I don't think working with other people is inherently less productive, but it's often misplaced in the creative or problem-solving sequence.

At least for me, it's the sequencing that I want to get right.

First, work by yourself, bring down the spark, start the process, let the idea find its own natural form without outside interference.

Then, working with other people who have similar interests to develop and build on the foundation you've already established.

Second Life

Mashups happen when disparate but complementary ideas, skills, and perspectives come together to create a synergistic whole that's greater than the sum of its parts.

The best collaborative work happens when people bring their already-formed creative contributions to the table.

Sometimes your core idea, or creative spark that you bring to the table will be butchered, dead or reincarnated as something else.

Call it the cost of collaboration or collective evolution.

Learning to hold your contributions lightly could well be one of the most liberating skill you can develop in the collaborative arena.

The moment you share an idea with others, it begins its own life cycle, and trying to control that cycle is like trying to control how a river flows.

Moreover, when you're not desperately defending your original vision, you become capable of seeing possibilities you couldn't have imagined alone.

I think that's the main drawback with insisting on sole authorship, easy to mistake and blend being the author for being the authority.

What you thought was the "heart" of your idea might actually just be the entry point, and the real breakthrough happens when someone takes it in a direction that initially makes you uncomfortable.


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