Welcome to the third and final part of What To Say You Do When You Do It All!
In Part 1, I shared why the struggle is real (TL;DR—it’s not you). In Part 2, we talked about why the things you might have been trying so far probably haven’t helped with that struggle (TL;DR—also not you).
And now I’m back to support you in crafting your own cohesively expansive language, with some ideas for your sharp brain and an exercise for a sharp pencil. Exercises are a perk of being a paid subscriber, and you can always give a month a try for the price of a couple of Blackwings.
Let’s begin, as this little song by Sara Bareilles leads us in:
So, I have a theory.
This theory emerged slowly, over years of trying to make sense of my own multifaceted body of work, which felt fortuitously accidental on some days and fully all over the place on others. Then a few years ago, something a guest said on my podcast at the time began to give the theory words. From there, it started to take shape as I formally developed the EV approach, until one day it hit me so completely that I felt like someone pushed a curtain aside and said: “Ta-da!” (Once a theater kid...)
Here it is:
If you have a multifaceted body of work with a diverse set of outputs—in other words, if you do a lot of stuff—I suspect that at the center of it all is a question or challenge or idea that you know on some level is yours to pursue. And because the question or challenge or idea itself is multifaceted, you also know that the only way to meaningfully pursue it is by exploring it from every angle.
Through that lens, all of these things you’ve been doing—the hats you’ve been wearing, the projects you’ve been starting, stopping, and returning to again, the disciplines you’ve been crossing—aren’t symptoms of scatteredness at all. In fact, the opposite is true. They’re signs of your steadfast ability to follow a complex, nuanced, and evolving pursuit across every terrain. And of your intuitive awareness in knowing that’s what you need to do.
It probably doesn’t feel that way yet, which is part of how this works. Despite what classic achievement tales try to tell us, we don’t often set out with a clear goal in mind. The central through lines of our various expressions are often things we see in hindsight or with someone like me enthusiastically saying: “Look at how it all connects!” But knowing that can provide some reassurance, with the mystery of it all being another sign that we’re onto something.
That’s one of the reasons why I love the work of voice so much, because built right into the daunting challenge of talking about what you do is an invitation to the adventurous process of following a collection of clues right to the heart of it all.
Over the last decade of developing language for superdynamic brands and working closely with people who are making all kinds of cool moves, I’ve met so many who are convinced that they’re the poster child for disjointedness. Once I get to know them, I’ll find out that all of those joints are part of a body that’s shaking up an industry, or finding solutions to intersectional issues, or creating new ways of doing things or new worlds to live in.
You know: simple stuff.
I take issue with terms like “generalist” because when you begin to understand what’s at the center of your multifaceted work, it’s usually not general at all, but actually quite specific. It’s just that what you’re specifically interested in is so expansive and dynamic that it calls on the full spectrum of everything you’ve got.
“So, what do you do?” is the question that inspired this series, but it’s really not the right question to ask those of us who work on complex challenges in creative ways. Much better questions would be: “What do you think about a lot?” or “What rabbit holes did you dive down recently?” or “What moves you?”
When your work relies on your problem solving abilities and point of view, the answers to those questions are just as important, if not more—because they power and connect all that you do, and they’re usually what gets you hired to do it.
If you’ve been here for a while, you know I love a good metaphor. So far we’ve considered bridges, trampolines, birds, and palimpsest, and it’s finally time to invite prisms and kaleidoscopes to the conceptual party.
A prism emits a complete spectrum of colors when held up to the light. A kaleidoscope holds many colors that shift and change depending on how it’s positioned. Both instruments are simple, well designed, and exceptionally efficient in the art and science of exuding vibrancy.
Think of the center of your work like a prism, your unique lens as the light that illuminates it, and the individual expressions as all of the colors that emerge. It would be strange if a prism only emitted one color, wouldn’t it? Kind of a letdown, if we’re being honest.
Now imagine looking inside of a kaleidoscope that holds all of those colors. As you adjust the aperture or the angle towards the light source, the colorful parts will interact differently to reveal a different picture—each one as vivid and dynamic as the last.
When pursuing prismatic work, we need kaleidoscopic ways of talking about it. Language that speaks to the living, breathing center that powers and connects everything you do. Simple, well designed, efficient tools that reveal the colorful interaction of parts, and create cohesion while celebrating complexity.
So that when someone asks you what you do, you can choose to answer a better question that invites a more interesting and relevant discourse. Instead of listing, downplaying, or broadly labeling, you can say, “I do a lot, and here’s why” or “I’m pursuing this big idea and here’s how.”
When I talk about leading the conversation, that’s what I’m talking about.
So how do you do that? I’ve provided some clues, and now I’m going to guide you through a step-by-step exercise to support you in identifying what lives at the center of your multifaceted work, and start to give it some language.
Grab that sharp pencil, some paper, and a snack. Snacks are always encouraged.