Writing is essentially donkey work, manual labor of the mind. What makes it bearable are those moments (which sometimes can last for weeks, months) when the book takes over, takes on a life of its own, goes off in unexpected directions.
There’s a lot of conventional wisdom in podcasting—things like “You have to publish weekly” or “Shorter episodes are better.” But not all common advice applies to everyone. What’s something you’ve found doesn’t actually work or that people should rethink?
~ Asked by the LLM(1)
Don’t go alone.
I don’t think people do well trying to do their podcast entirely by themselves. I think this is really a point about creating art in general.
Yes, one definitely should do the work for the work’s sake. (What is referred to as autotelic.) Yes, don’t depend on external motivation and reward. But it is not easy to do that entirely alone.
The easy way is to find others who share your passion. You don’t need to directly collaborate on your work. But you absolutely will be happier if you have others who speak your jargon, do the thing, and face the same struggles.
ɕ
(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.
Being quiet and slowly building mastery and expertise doesn’t pay off much at first. So many creatives must make a calculation: Do I want the short term, could-go-viral-at-any-second thrill of being a vocal expert in my field? Or am I more content playing the long game? More people are incentivized to choose the former — and it’s getting crowded in here.
This is closely related to the bit the other day from Offerman. In fact, it’s closely related to anyone’s journey of self-discovery. It is directly related, and critically important, for creatives to understand the trap of the idea of there being a possible short-term payoff. There is no short-term payoff. It exists, in the same sense that car accidents exist: Yes, but we don’t hope for that. We don’t set out trying for that.
But if you only paid attention to television and social media, you would think that all we’re supposed to do is make as much money as possible, and buy as many retail goods as possible. I’ve found that making a life with one’s hands and spending your time with loved ones pays less dollars but makes your life much more rich. I feel like the American Dream has been a bit hijacked by consumerism… And I learned the hard way that that’s actually quite empty and depressing as a lifestyle.
Maybe don’t follow Offerman’s path. But I think it’s worth following his advice. Yes, it’s difficult to balance exploring what makes me unique, with simply doing what everyone is doing. The balance you choose is part of the journey of self-creation. That’s a feature, not a flaw.
What makes parkour jam spaces unique, and how do they shape the experience of movement, community, and accessibility?
A church, a jam space, and a parkour gym—what do they have in common, and why does it matter?
The empowerment, and the kind of liberation to not care what other people think, does have a limit for some folk, I guess. I love it. I think for me, it’s been great and really powerful. I really like not caring anymore about being bad at stuff in particular— that’s so freeing.
~ Nina Ballantyne (14:00)
The conversation explores the concept of parkour jam spaces, emphasizing how they lack defined boundaries, making them more accessible in theory but sometimes intimidating in practice. The discussion touches on the contrast between structured athletic environments and the open, fluid nature of parkour, where new participants must navigate unspoken social norms rather than physical barriers. The conversation also highlights the paradox of accessibility—while jam spaces remove formal entry requirements, social and cultural factors can still create obstacles, especially for marginalized individuals.
The discussion transitions into broader themes of public space, inclusivity, and the intersection of parkour with community projects. A significant portion focuses on an initiative to purchase a historic church in Edinburgh and transform it into a community space. The conversation reflects on how physical spaces carry different meanings based on personal and cultural perspectives. The comparison between parkour jam spaces and community-driven spaces like the church highlights the broader theme of reclaiming and redefining public areas for collective benefit.
Takeaways
Jam spaces and accessibility — The absence of a physical boundary in a jam space doesn’t mean it’s truly open to everyone, as social and psychological barriers still exist.
The role of unstructured environments — Unlike traditional sports with defined spaces and rules, parkour operates in public spaces, leading to unique challenges in inclusivity and belonging.
Marginalized groups in public spaces — Individuals who are already scrutinized in society, whether due to gender, race, or body type, may experience additional barriers when engaging in parkour.
The impact of early experiences — Many practitioners come into parkour without formal athletic backgrounds, which shapes their approach to movement and learning.
Cultural norms within parkour — Different communities have their own customs, such as specific greetings or approaches to training, which can be both welcoming and exclusionary.
Reclaiming public space — Parkour’s ability to redefine urban spaces extends beyond movement, influencing broader discussions about who has access to and control over public areas.
Indoor vs. outdoor training — While some practitioners prefer the spontaneity of outdoor training, indoor spaces provide a structured environment that can be more accessible to beginners or marginalized groups.
The intersection of parkour and community work — The discussion about repurposing a church into a community space parallels parkour’s ethos of adapting and reclaiming environments.
The perception of churches as public spaces — Depending on cultural background, a church can be seen as either a welcoming community hub or an exclusive, imposing institution.
The role of storytelling in community building — Sharing experiences and narratives within parkour fosters a sense of shared culture and belonging.
The importance of understanding different motivations — Some practitioners seek challenge, while others prioritize playfulness, relaxation, or self-expression.
The limits of parkour’s inclusivity — While parkour prides itself on being an open and adaptable discipline, social realities can still make participation difficult for some individuals.
Resources
Access Parkour — A parkour organization in Scotland that provides training opportunities and works on community-focused projects.
Leith St Andrews Trust — The charitable organization working to purchase and repurpose a church in Edinburgh as a community space.
Coach Europe — A parkour coaching conference that brings together practitioners to discuss teaching methodologies and movement philosophy.
Richard Marshall — A parkour practitioner and speaker who discusses the importance of play in movement training.
Many podcasters start out assuming success looks like big audience numbers, sponsorships, or industry recognition. But in your experience, what’s something that actually matters way more than people think—or something people chase that turns out to be irrelevant?
~ Asked by the LLM(1)
All advice is useless until you first figure out why you are creating your podcast. There, that’s counterintuitive and contentious.
I’m not saying you must have a deeply considered, philosophical reason. But you must start with some reason for your podcasting. It can be any reason at all that you can imagine.
Because any useful advice must take your reason for podcasting into consideration. What’s the best mic? Should I publish on a schedule? Does the quality of the audio matter? What about show-length? …format? …social media? Even, what’s something that actually matters way more than people think? It depends.
All advice is going to be wrong if it doesn’t take your reasons into consideration. This applies to everything in life. Get up early? Stay up late? Avoid gluten? Read more? It depends.
Certainly you can change and refine your reasons. When you do that you can get real power from all that advice. If you get advice towards one course of action, but you don’t want to do that, then you need to dig into your reason, or you need to dig into that advice. One of them needs to be updated.
ɕ
(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.
You just have to use what you have, and have great cohorts. I have people that I’ve played with a very long time. We are connected by our common understanding of what we’re doing, all the experiences we’ve had over the years… And most of all, there’s a friendship between us which allows us to do it without having to explain everything with a huge long manifesto. It has a lot to do with the trust I’m able to place in them to do our work.
Time after time I hear creatives talk about that. How they have an inside circle of peers. Of people who are also friends. Creatives need to have a group of people which somehow form a scene; They have access to a place where others like them freely associate.
When it comes, this will be the fourth message received from Alsafi in my lifetime. Few have timed their career so fortuitously. The first came when I was a child. The second came just weeks after I joined the Intercivilizational Observatory’s San Francisco office, and I wormed my way onto the analysis team. The third came the year I met Cassio, and I was doubly lovestruck. Still, I was reading responses to questions another generation had asked. But now, a full 39-year round-trip after I began, I’ll finally get answers to my questions. Ones from my youth, maybe, but they’ll be mine. After all this time, I’ll finally be In Conversation.
This piece of fiction is one of those things I start skimming, thinking “should I mark this for later reading?” and then read it all the way through. So of course I recommend you do too.
I find tremendous value in considered conversation. Usually, a conversation about the weather isn’t such a valuable opportunity. But this conversation about “weather” is really about what are the limits of what can be considered a conversation… is understanding required for it to be a conversation? Or is simply trying to understand, enough?
Writing issues of 7 for Sunday has become familiar (not to be confused with “easy”). I have a checklist which I use when I’m writing each issue. It’s as much for scratch-paper thinking, as it is for ticking off completed steps. Originally, the checklist had a lot of notes about formatting, what goes where, how to typeset the specific parts, image sizing, etc. all nuts-and-bolts stuff. As I’ve modified it, it’s now mostly signposts and I use it to celebrate each phase of the issue’s development.
Today, I was down to just a couple of these checklists and I hit print. How many copies? Without hesitation I printed 20—because that would be checklists through issue 150. It simply struck me as interesting that I’ve moved beyond “should I continue” and even beyond “can I continue” for this neat little weekly missive that I enjoy putting together.
With everything you’ve learned from running multiple shows, what are the biggest mistakes or inefficiencies you’d avoid if you were launching a new podcast from scratch? Would you approach production, audience growth, or personal mindset differently?
~ Asked by the LLM(1)
Picture me smiling and chuckling nervously because, for more than a year, I have been trying to restart one of my shows. Certainly a big part of my 2024 was reallocated for health reasons, but my attempted restart of the Open + Curious podcast has had many months available to me before, and since. Still, there’s no new show. It’s all about the mindset, for me. I have a too-grand vision of what it should be. I can’t stop seeing all the things it could possibly become, and fixating on getting everything right (my vision of what it should be) from launch day.
However, the best wisdom that I have here for others, is just a repackaging of Heraclitus’s “no one steps in the same river twice” (the flowing water implies the river is different, and the person is also different.)
If someone is actually starting their first show: Once you understand how to do a podcast (it takes perhaps 10 minutes to learn that?) then do not spend more time asking people about starting. That’s hiding from the work. Rather, start. The experience of the doing is what you are actually seeking.
ɕ
(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.
[Don’t you need a certain kind of passion during those dry spells, to keep going?] Not at all. What keeps you going is stubbornness, economic necessity, or simply endurance. Passion will, at most, lead to frustration, but not to perseverance. For that, you don’t need passion, you need persistence.
It’s an interesting interview just for his views on passion. I agree with him: Passion will get you out the door on days 1 and 2. But by day 3 you need a routine, an understanding of the effort your undertaking, a clear perspective on what it’s going to be in the long haul, and more. But if you really want to get wowed by Waltz, go find Quentin Tarantino’s conversation on The Moment podcast with Brian Koppelman… the part where Tarantino talks about bringing Waltz onto the project…
Postrel’s argument about dynamism, evolutionary processes, and dispersed knowledge has direct relevance to technological change. She suggests that technological progress, much like biological evolution, is unpredictable and emerges through decentralized innovation rather than central planning, mirroring Hayek’s insight that no single entity can have enough knowledge to foresee or control all the variables involved in invention and innovation.
For a long time—perhaps all of my life until just a few years ago—I would have said I was completely on team Continuous Forward Progress; I would have said that change is good simply because it implies forward progress. But now I’m really seeing the value of “if this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.” In most situations, I’m now feeling that leaving something just as it is would be great. The article is making a point about people who are against change on principle (although I’d wager most such people haven’t thought of it as a principle) and that’s not me either. I’m perfectly fine with change. But this is nice too.
Podcasting is full of friction—technical issues, editing headaches, guests rescheduling, creative blocks. Some podcasters try to eliminate every obstacle, but sometimes, friction is where the best ideas come from. Where do you think friction helps creativity versus just getting in the way?
~ Asked by the LLM(1)
This question leads me to the idea of “simple.” I often ask myself: What is the simplest thing that could possibly work? Because that’s the idea I should start with. It requires no effort for me to imagine adding complications. Keep it simple stupid (KISS) is an adage because it is a valuable compass.
For me then, friction is a sign that there might be a simpler way to do something. It might be quite complicated and involve a lot of work to switch over to a simpler way of doing things, but it’s only when I’m directly considering the friction that I can understand the payoff of such effort.
On the other hand, there may not be a simpler way to do something. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
In either case, it’s the friction which prompts me to apply mental effort to search for that simpler way. Creating meaningful work (podcasting in this case, but anything really) requires some amount of effort. Friction is a clear sign that—at the least—I’m actually doing the work.
I suppose that does mean that friction helps creativity. Is friction necessary for creativity? No. But it’s definitely not the enemy of creativity.
ɕ
(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.
For greater happiness, a better way to live employs what behavioral scientists call metacognition. This simply refers to an impartial awareness of your emotions, a capacity to see them as important information but not as a mandate for any particular behavior. Good ways to practice metacognition include Vipassana meditation, journaling, and prayers, which shift the experience of involuntary emotion into the realm of conscious attention.
There are endless methods: Write that angry screed, but don’t send it (put the paper-letter in a drawer, or save the email as a draft.) Count to 10 before saying or doing anything when you are angry. Name your feelings, internally or out loud (“I’m a feeling angry.”) Viktor Frankl’s comments on the space between stimulus and response. I don’t have a specific takeaway, other than that I’m simply reminding myself of all these options which I’d like to continue to practice using more often.
These are serious fears. But they’re not the real fear. Not the Master Fear, the Mother of all Fears that’s so close to us that even when we verbalize it we don’t believe it. Fear That We Will Succeed. That we can access the powers we secretly know we possess. That we can become the person we sense in our hearts we truly are.
I believe we are meaning-seeking creatures, and these feelings of meaning, relational and connective, are almost always located within kindness. Kindness is the force that draws us together, and this, Beau, is what I think I am trying to say – that despite our collective state of loss, and our potential for evil, there exists a great network of goodness, knitted together by countless everyday human kindnesses.
In your post Having a Clear Why, you highlight the importance of having a reason for podcasting that goes beyond just releasing episodes. Looking back, has your core motivation for podcasting changed over time? Were there moments when your ‘why’ felt unclear, and how did you navigate that?
~ Asked by the LLM(1)
It turns out that my core motivation has never wavered. What has changed drastically over the years is why I thought I was doing it.
My “Why” is that I’m curious. I have always been entirely motivated by simple, selfish reasons: I love conversations— in fact I love listening to people. The people and conversations energize me. Podcasting scratches my curiosity itch. (The cure for boredom is curiosity. There’s no cure for curiosity.)
It turns out that when I’m intentional about how I podcast—who I choose to give a platform to, what I steer us towards discussing, how I craft episode notes, titles, and all the countless details—I end up creating pieces of work that other people really enjoy and learn from. Godin’s phrasing, “make the world better by making better things,” nails it.
What’s changed over the years is that I was confused about my “Why”—not that my “Why” actually changed. At various times in the past I used to think, “people like what I’m creating, maybe I can generate some revenue.” But I’m not in podcasting to generate revenue, and if I wanted to do that I’d need to shift from “what do I want” to being clear about what problem I’m trying to solve for others.
ɕ
(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.