The magic is in the work
At every single company I’ve founded or have been a part of, there’s always been a struggle to start, and a struggle to scale.
The struggle to start is writing the first cold email, asking for the first dollar, figuring out the first plan for what to build. It’s willfully ignoring the pain ahead: the innumerable rejections, the posts that fall flat, the graveyards of dead products. It’s knowing that all of these failures will cost the same amount of integrity, willpower, and effort as the one that finally succeeds — and still believing the one will eventually come.
Most people see this path and never start. They are “one day” people. I used to look down on one day people, but sometimes I think they are happier (or at least have more developed prefrontal cortexes). One day people see the looming mountain of failure and they do not go further.
It’s that very mountain that snaps would-be artists and would-be founders back to their senses, and sends them running the other way. It is way easier to turn around, to procrastinate, or to abandon the path entirely. Many do.
The struggle to scale then, is seeing the mountain, and trudging ahead. You’ve made your first post, you’ve told all of your friends. You’ve celebrated the both past and the future in the same farewell party, and now it’s time to face the music. The drunkenness of new is gone, the sendoff is complete, and all that’s left is four empty walls and the work ahead.
The struggle to scale is the struggle to continue. It’s the dull pain of sore feet, tight shoulders, burnt necks from the long and arduous journey. It’s the pain that comes from getting up on Monday after you’ve worked on Sunday. It’s what it feels like to wake up early for a shoot, to film after an exhausting week of flights, and to still send emails late into the night.
It is being overworked and underpaid, running, treading, gasping for as fast and as much as you can — all while thinking: When will this thing finally work on its own? When will it all get easier?
The struggle to scale is what they call the the Rocky cutscene, the Mamba Mentality, the artist’s way. The pain is the bulk of the hero’s journey.
Artist and sculptor Daniel Arsham says great artists are professionals. While amateur artists wait around for inspiration, professional artists do the work.
Professional artists show up every day, from 9 to 7, or 9 to 9, and they produce. Amateur artists go out to be a part of the scene. Professional artists reinvest their time and money back into studio, back into the work.
Rick Owens seems to come from the same school of thought. “You have to shut up and work. The more you produce, your character, talent, your vision and identity will emerge. As long as you make enough things to choose from, you’ll have enough to make and edit, and that edit becomes who you are”.
Starting a business demands everything, usually for prolonged periods where the returns just aren’t there. I’m in one of those periods. It feels like I have been flying, filming, financing for 9 months straight, but we still don’t have a clear sense of PMF. Cashflow is still tight. I look at the team and think to myself, I don’t deserve to lead these people. I need to bring food to the table. I need to level up.
I’m a fool, because I believe in the miracle of work. I believe that good work operates on its own time, that it becomes better and better until it becomes great. I still believe my art professor when he said, “Art is never finished, so just paint something”.
The muse shows up when she wants to, but the work needs to get done if you ever want to meet her.
Keep going.
