This month, I read Start With Why by Simon Sinek. Sinek cuts to the heart of what makes the difference between those who succeed and those who don’t. As he eloquently puts it, “People don’t buy what you do. They buy why you do it.”

As a serial entrepreneur with a fragmented career—littered with numerous periods of unemployment—I found Sinek’s work to be enlightening. If I could say only one thing about what I personally took away from my reading of the book, it’s that I finally realized what people are really asking when they utter the words ,“What do you do?” Until I read Start With Why, I used to resent this question. What do I do? Well, let’s see. I write. I tinker with things. I organize and design spreadsheets. I meet with people. I organize groups. I brainstorm. I create schedules. I mine data. I program. In the past, I’ve worked as a field service technician, a barista at Starbucks, a copying machine repair tech, a copywriter, and a handful of other things. Nobody really understands what I do, least of all me. But Sinek made me realize something that should have been obvious: when someone asks what I do, they don’t mean it literally.

At most networking functions—particularly if a large number of people are in attendance—we’re all faced with a challenge. The goal of a networking meeting is to connect with the right people, and deepen those connections over time. In order to do that effectively, we need a way to initiate contact with a stranger, then continue the conversation or disengage as appropriate. We invented a protocol to solve this problem. “What do you do” became the standard question, designed to open a dialog. We have implicit permission to ask this question without offending anyone. Well—almost anyone. I have to confess that this question has historically tended to trigger a fight-or-flight response in me. But now, at least I see light at the end of the tunnel.

In order to make the question of “What do you do” make sense, I need to put this in context. Simon Sinek refers to a device called “The Golden Circle.” It looks like three concentric circles. The inner circle represents “Why,” the middle circle represents “How,”  and the outer circle represents “What.” According to Sinek, businesses usually get things backwards when it comes to marketing themselves. They talk at length about what they do, what makes them different from their competitors, and so on. He asserts that wildly successful brands, by contrast, make a greater effort to convey why they do what they do. The Golden Circle works from the inside out—the “why” defines and shapes the direction of the business, giving rise to the “how” (strategy).

Sinek uses Apple as an example of how The Golden Circle works. Apple has consistently prided itself on disrupting the status quo and thumbing its nose at the established rules. This has led to a cult following among Mac and iPhone users. Sinek discusses how Apple disrupted the mobile phone industry. Before the iPhone entered the scene, service providers dictated what features would be added to phones. Apple upended this model by designing a phone independently of any input from any of the carriers, then forcing the rest of the market to come on board. Initially, only AT&T signed on, but the iPhone’s popularity ultimately left the other carriers no choice. The smart phone interface has been duplicated many times over by numerous phone manufacturers, but the iPhone still remains a dominant player in the market. That’s because Apple is clear about what drives their engine. They are disruptors, and they refuse to play by the rules. In fact, that’s why Steve Jobs designed the original Apple Computer in the first place. Apple fans tend to possess at least a little bit of a rebellious streak.

In light of the Golden Circle, I realized that my overly-literal interpretation of the “What do you do” question had cost me a lot of potential opportunity. I believed that people asked this question for one of two reasons: to break awkward silence (which I found irritating), or to determine if I was blue-collar or white-collar for the purposes of ascertaining my social class and thereby my worthiness (which made me angry). When I read Simon Sinek’s accounts of companies that focused on “why” first, I started to think about the networking icebreaker question a different way. What if, I considered, people were really asking, “Why do you do what you do?” If one follows Sinek’s train of thought, the logical conclusion is that when someone asks a “what” question, they are really only interested in a “why” answer. People are looking for a spark. They are looking for passion. They are looking to see if there’s a commitment to something greater. If so, there’s a basis for a connection. If not—well then, it might be time to move on.

If you struggle with how to introduce yourself, or if you have a hard time coming up with ways to talk about what you do for a living, you might find Start With Why to be a useful resource. I believe that each of us possesses the potential to develop a loyal following among the people who resonate with our beliefs. We usually talk about the wrong things—mainly because the world is filled with bad examples. Think about what gets you out of bed in the morning—what gets your motor running? If you look back throughout your life at all of the major decisions you’ve ever made, they’ve all been influenced by one underlying belief or value. If you can identify what that is, you’ll be well on your way to tapping the power of the universal principle that Simon Sinek points to.

About Dave

Dave Baldwin is a writer who lives and works in Raleigh, North Carolina. You can find more of Dave’s writings on his blog about writing, creativity, and business.

My desk before the clean up

I sure am! But things were getting a little too hairy and I was afraid I might fall into my piles of paper, notebooks, binders, and file folders and not come out. My in-laws’ visit this past weekend gave me an accountability date and I filled our recycling bin with over 100 lbs of crap after my cleaning spree. Not looking forward to having to roll that sucker out onto the street. Why did I wait so long in order to clean out my files, the top of my desk, the bottom of my desk, the sides of my desk, etc.

1. I didn’t want to take the time which I felt could be used for doing client and my own work
2. It was easier to let things pile up than take the time to sort it all into categories
3. I didn’t want to feel exhausted after cleaning
4. I was scared that once I started I wouldn’t stop and there’d be more to clean! (kinda true)
5. My filing cabinet was stuck

Yes, it did take more than a few days, hours at a time to pare down my office, but now I can see what I’m doing and feel so much better!

Yes, I was tired after the cleaning and my allergies perked up thanks to all of the dust, but I moved some serious energy! I also didn’t to buy any organizing supplies. Turns out I had enough hanging file folders, notebooks, folder labels, and notebooks. I pulled out papers I didn’t need, filed the ones I do need and saved the outer coverings. Bonus!

Now the only challenge I have it maintenance, which I’m going to do a better job at than last time!

So , if your paperwork is getting piled into a cool tent-like structure, your books-to-read own their own dust fence, and your spouse is embarrassed to know you—then it’s time to ditch your work at the moment and clean! I promise, you’ll have renewed energy and confidence—after you take your nap. 

After the clean up!

• I only learned about how greet on the phone AFTER I was rude to my flute teacher at age 11. Instead of saying, “Hi, this is Alice. How are you?” I launched into, “When is my flute lesson!” Of course my mom witnessed this shameful episode and I had to call Ms. Kilpatrick back immediately and apologize. To avoid my son going through the same humiliation, I coach him how to greet on the phone before he calls anyone.

• After college I held several low paying receptionist jobs (that’s an oxymoron, right?) and also did a lot of phone recruiting when I was President of the Virginia Tech Alumni Chapter in Charleston. I think making phone calls brings on these flashbacks. I also made a lot of calls when I was a makeup lady, but these weren’t as bad.

• Back when I became a mom over a decade ago, any phone call would bring my kid out of his slumber and turn him into a banshee. So I stopped calling folks and became an email junkie. I still avoid calls when my kids are at home and if this isn’t avoidable, I lock myself up in the upstairs bathroom or garage or car so they can’t find me.

• As a writer and introvert (ha, another oxymoron!) I prefer gathering my thoughts up on paper first before I go all improv on the phone.

• I feel that phone calls can waste time and you can get to the point faster via email. I have my phone on “silent” and if someone leaves a message, that message pops up on my email thanks to Google Voice.

• I screen all of my calls unless that person’s name pops up on my Caller ID. I never pick up out of area calls unless I know them; I’m so afraid of spam. If it’s a “real” person I call them back immediately and know what they need based on their message.

When are phone calls better than emails:

• You can get info fast and not waste time on writing emails or long texts.

• When getting to know clients, phone calls and Skype video chats are definitely better

• Depending on if the other person is a Baby Boomer or a Mature, phone calls do help build rapport and trust. On the other hand, if the person is a Generation X or Millennial, then emails or texts (respectively) are best.

Your Turn:
Do you prefer emails or phone calls and why? I want to hear from you!

As I write these words now, I feel a certain intangible pressure digging into me. It’s the feeling of a looming deadline standing over my shoulder. At times like these, I begin to feel an obligation to engineer something brilliant. Therein lies the problem with writing. As Butler points out repeatedly, you can’t use logic to deduce the perfect words. The core challenge of writing, according to Butler, is the art of inducing a quasi-dream state from which words naturally flow out of you:

“[T]here’s a trance state also that the artist must induce in herself in order to create a work of art. You have to let go of that comforting, distancing voice, you have to then descend into that deep dream space of yours, and that will result in a kind of superconcentration. Psychologists call it the ‘flow state,’ being in the flow. Athletes call it being ‘in the zone.’”

Pressure interferes with creativity, but it’s a funny thing. When you’re on a writing deadline, you might feel completely stopped for a while. Then, the pressure builds up inside you, and you manage to eke out one or two brilliantly crafted sentences without even thinking about it. Writers who regularly face deadlines often rely on these spurts of creativity—along with regular doses of caffeine. Personally, I’ve had to rely on these brief moments when writing clients were waiting for content from me. There have been times when hours or days have gone by, and I just hadn’t had any brilliant thoughts. Anyone who ever attempts to do anything creative deals with some variation of this problem.

If you’re not a writer, and you’ve ever been forced to write something, you know what creative pressure feels like. I once talked to a business owner who told me that he had struggled for an entire afternoon just trying to come up with a single paragraph of copy to describe an event. Perhaps the reason why writing intimidates so many people lies in the fact that no one has sufficiently explained the barriers that a writer has to overcome. Butler makes the mysterious nature of the written word just a little bit easier to understand. He shows why trying to compute the perfect set of words is an exercise in futility—and how the most critical skill set for writing is one that we’re never taught in school.

For me, the single most valuable take-away from this book—and also the hardest pill to swallow—was the idea that sometimes, I have to throw away my best ideas and start over from scratch. “I warn you,” writes Butler, “that my most common recommendation will be: Put this away and never look at it again. Do not rewrite, do not edit, do not fiddle, do not work this over. It came from the wrong place.” There have been times when a seemingly-perfect sentence or paragraph just flowed out of me. I have struggled to shoehorn those words into one piece or another, determined to make them fit somewhere. This applies as much to business as to writing. There were times when I struggled for months trying to implement ideas that I thought were brilliant. I didn’t realize that what I needed to do was return to the state of mind from whence I’d conceived the ideas.

Butler’s prescribed techniques pertain specifically to the craft of novel-writing. If you have no interest in ever writing a novel, but find yourself intrigued by the idea of entering “the zone,” I would suggest reading From Where You Dream, but with a bit of a twist. If you are willing to temporarily imagine yourself as a novelist for the duration of the book, you will begin to see insights about how to apply the material to your own career or business efforts. If that’s too much of a stretch for you, then think of yourself as a spectator watching a sport. Some sections of the book show transcripts of Butler critiquing his students’ work. If you make a little bit of effort to imagine what it might be like to write fiction, that will help you understand the powerful and mysterious nature of the waking dream state that Butler discusses.

If you’re in sales (and let’s face it; we all are), you’ve probably noticed that people make buying decisions based on emotion, not logic. The path to becoming a novelist is similar to the path to sales mastery—in that both the novelist and the salesperson have to continually reinvigorate their imagination. Showing a customer the logical reasons to buy something will not motivate a sale—it’s about telling a compelling story that they want to be part of. It’s about evoking desire. It’s about setting a scene that makes people want to come closer and see more.

If you’ve ever wondered how great writers manage to craft brilliant prose, From Where You Dream is the best explanation I’ve found. Admittedly, the subject is nearly impossible to describe directly, but Butler gives you a greater appreciation for where to focus your time and energy. He will also show you that you are capable of more than you thought. This book offers a maddeningly short glimpse into the world of pure possibility. It won’t give you the answer, but it will give you new questions. That’s what a good book should do.

Dave Baldwin is a writer who lives and works in Raleigh, North Carolina. You can find more of Dave’s writings on his blog about writing, creativity, and business.

Thank you, Dave Baldwin for another fantastic post about how tips from a noted novelist can help you overcome your writing blocks. Enjoy and be inspired! And if you’d like to know more about the craft of writing fiction, check out my new webinar series STARTING TOMORROW:

How to Write the Next Great American Novel with Alice Osborn
Location: Webinar Series

Class meets three times on Tuesdays: May 14, 21 & 28, 2013

Time:  12-1:15pm EST

Tuition:  $55 

Register HERE

Fiction begins with the main character wanting something so badly it hurts. Your job as a writer is to make life very difficult for your main character so a fresh and inventive plot and story will emerge without cliché. We’ll discuss the craft of fiction, which includes point of view, setting, dialogue and figurative language. Alice will give in-class prompts to strengthen and support your work. All levels of fiction writers are encouraged to attend. Alice is an experienced fiction book editor who has guided scores of novelists on the traditional and independent path to publication. If you miss the “live” class, you can listen to the recording later!

This month, I read a book that completely changed my outlook on writing, business, and life in general. From Where You Dream by Robert Olen Butler is a practical discussion about the art of writing a novel, but the principles that Butler discusses apply equally to every kind of writing—and they translate to other disciplines as well.

As I write these words now, I feel a certain intangible pressure digging into me. It’s the feeling of a looming deadline standing over my shoulder. At times like these, I begin to feel an obligation to engineer something brilliant. Therein lies the problem with writing. As Butler points out repeatedly, you can’t use logic to deduce the perfect words. The core challenge of writing, according to Butler, is the art of inducing a quasi-dream state from which words naturally flow out of you:

“[T]here’s a trance state also that the artist must induce in herself in order to create a work of art. You have to let go of that comforting, distancing voice, you have to then descend into that deep dream space of yours, and that will result in a kind of superconcentration. Psychologists call it the ‘flow state,’ being in the flow. Athletes call it being ‘in the zone.’”

Pressure interferes with creativity, but it’s a funny thing. When you’re on a writing deadline, you might feel completely stopped for a while. Then, the pressure builds up inside you, and you manage to eke out one or two brilliantly crafted sentences without even thinking about it. Writers who regularly face deadlines often rely on these spurts of creativity—along with regular doses of caffeine. Personally, I’ve had to rely on these brief moments when writing clients were waiting for content from me. There have been times when hours or days have gone by, and I just hadn’t had any brilliant thoughts. Anyone who ever attempts to do anything creative deals with some variation of this problem.

If you’re not a writer, and you’ve ever been forced to write something, you know what creative pressure feels like. I once talked to a business owner who told me that he had struggled for an entire afternoon just trying to come up with a single paragraph of copy to describe an event. Perhaps the reason why writing intimidates so many people lies in the fact that no one has sufficiently explained the barriers that a writer has to overcome. Butler makes the mysterious nature of the written word just a little bit easier to understand. He shows why trying to compute the perfect set of words is an exercise in futility—and how the most critical skill set for writing is one that we’re never taught in school.

For me, the single most valuable take-away from this book—and also the hardest pill to swallow—was the idea that sometimes, I have to throw away my best ideas and start over from scratch. “I warn you,” writes Butler, “that my most common recommendation will be: Put this away and never look at it again. Do not rewrite, do not edit, do not fiddle, do not work this over. It came from the wrong place.” There have been times when a seemingly-perfect sentence or paragraph just flowed out of me. I have struggled to shoehorn those words into one piece or another, determined to make them fit somewhere. This applies as much to business as to writing. There were times when I struggled for months trying to implement ideas that I thought were brilliant. I didn’t realize that what I needed to do was return to the state of mind from whence I’d conceived the ideas.

Butler’s prescribed techniques pertain specifically to the craft of novel-writing. If you have no interest in ever writing a novel, but find yourself intrigued by the idea of entering “the zone,” I would suggest reading From Where You Dream, but with a bit of a twist. If you are willing to temporarily imagine yourself as a novelist for the duration of the book, you will begin to see insights about how to apply the material to your own career or business efforts. If that’s too much of a stretch for you, then think of yourself as a spectator watching a sport. Some sections of the book show transcripts of Butler critiquing his students’ work. If you make a little bit of effort to imagine what it might be like to write fiction, that will help you understand the powerful and mysterious nature of the waking dream state that Butler discusses.

If you’re in sales (and let’s face it; we all are), you’ve probably noticed that people make buying decisions based on emotion, not logic. The path to becoming a novelist is similar to the path to sales mastery—in that both the novelist and the salesperson have to continually reinvigorate their imagination. Showing a customer the logical reasons to buy something will not motivate a sale—it’s about telling a compelling story that they want to be part of. It’s about evoking desire. It’s about setting a scene that makes people want to come closer and see more.

If you’ve ever wondered how great writers manage to craft brilliant prose, From Where You Dream is the best explanation I’ve found. Admittedly, the subject is nearly impossible to describe directly, but Butler gives you a greater appreciation for where to focus your time and energy. He will also show you that you are capable of more than you thought. This book offers a maddeningly short glimpse into the world of pure possibility. It won’t give you the answer, but it will give you new questions. That’s what a good book should do.

About Dave:

Dave Baldwin is a writer who lives and works in Raleigh, North Carolina. You can find more of Dave’s writings on his blog about writing, creativity, and business.