Do Great/Creative Work
On the way to the DO lectures in Cardigan, I jumped on the train at Swindon, took my seat, looked up, and saw that sitting across from me was Michael Bungay Stanier, a creative thought leader whom I met about 15 years ago in a workshop he held in Sydney. I have been a huge fan of Michael’s ever since. It was an understatement to say I was excited that he was also heading to DO. After chatting briefly, Michael politely excused himself as he had a pile of newsletters to finish. I took the time to map out this article and do this sketch of him pondering.
Michael’s workshop is called Great Work, which I have adapted and adopted, with appropriate attribution, over the years. His framework is based on the idea that there are three types of work: Bad, Good, and Great — the good, bad, and the not-ugly.
Bad work is the work that you hate doing, and therefore, you shouldn’t have to do it. The good work is the work you do day in, day out. Work that you are good at, that you enjoy, and that pays the bills. But work that when you sit down for a chardonnay or cold beer at the end of the week, you can’t remember what you did for your life. It is all a blur.
Great work is the work that you remember. It is those moments that stick in your mind (in a good way). Michael’s theory is that we have to do the good work; it pays the bills, but we should look for opportunities to do more great work.
After facilitating numerous workshops using Michael's model, I noted that, more often than not, the great work people recalled was what I think of as creative work — creating something or empowering someone else to create something.
The other adaptation I have made is getting people to draw their examples of bad, good and creative work. I get people to draw rather than write for many of my exercises. There is a thing that happens in the brain when we draw rather than write, which I will expand on in future essays, but basically, you think differently.
As I sat across from Michael, he admitted that he was nervous about the upcoming experience, mirroring my own sense of nervousness. As I walked out the door this morning when I left Oxford, I commented to my host that I was having an attack of frisson, that French word that describes when the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, the knife edge between fear and excitement.
I am a huge fan of Michael's and find his work inspirational. I see him as a supremely confident, creative thought leader. I was a bit taken aback that he was also nervous, but I was even more surprised that he admitted it to me.
He had no reason to be nervous. During the first afternoon, a fellow approached Michael to tell him that two of his books had changed his life.
I am nervous. Mostly because I am an introvert and find meeting large groups of people daunting ( a constant paradox as I am drawn to be in front of large audiences). Adding to my nerves is the fact that I am delivering a small workshop where the audience will be highly creative thinkers and doers from around the world. It is a small part of my larger workshop for corporate teams. My audience at Do is the most receptive group I could hope to present to, yet I remain apprehensive.
This exchange has me pondering. Michael reminds me that to do Creative/Great work, I must step out of my comfort zone, no matter what I might have achieved before.
PS. I am en route home again. The DO lectures were one of the most amazing experiences that I have had. And my workshop was a hoot and well-received.