In a superstar economy, the best get way more than the almost best.

So how should you respond as a creative artist? Here are two advanced ways you can position yourself to succeed:

1. Cross-train to become the best at a niche, cutting-edge aspect of your discipline.

2. Instead of fighting to be hired amid a sea of qualified artists, organize a project that others want to be a part of.

Let’s break it down.

Boredom is boring. It feels painful. At the slightest twinge of it, our brain screams for relief.

Perhaps that's why so many companies exist to entertain us. Constantly. No need to wait in line—here’s a video. No need to drive in silence—take your pick from this podcast, audiobook, or album. Going to the bathroom? Don’t just sit there, take TikTok with you!

It seems our mission is to eradicate boredom in our lives as if it were a plague.

But is boredom a plague? Or could it be a hidden wellspring of creativity?

Adam Grant knows how to produce at an elite level.

At age 28, he became the youngest professor to be granted tenure at the prestigious Wharton School. He later became its youngest Full Professor.

He was Wharton’s top-rated professor (yes, there is such a rating) from 2011–2017.

Before becoming a professor, Grant was an All-American springboard diver, an advertising director, and a professional magician.

When writer Cal Newport profiled Grant for his book Deep Work in 2016, Grant had already published sixty peer-reviewed articles in his field.

I started The Creative Process Newsletter back in June so that I could share timeless principles and concrete examples of creativity. Now that we are over six months in, let’s reflect on what we’ve learned. Here are five top lessons that I focused on in my newsletter articles in 2023.

Last week we talked about ​how to prepare​ before a Creative Deep Work session. It’s just as important to take time at the end of a session to reflect. ​To finish well​.

Think of your reflections as feedback, not judgment. How did things go? What can be improved?

Asking the question “where did I fail today?” is a supremely hopeful question. If you don’t identify where you’ve faltered, you are more likely to fall into the same trap in the future.

If you want to get better faster, start reflecting on your work every day.

Here are four questions you can ask at the end of each session.

You and I have talked before about the creator’s daily struggle and how important it is to cultivate your very own creative deep work routine as a daily habit.

Sometimes the hardest part is just to start. That first five minutes. That’s why it can help to add a ritual to the beginning of your work sessions.

Think of it as a mindful warmup, a transition from everyday noise to creative flow.

I call it the Prepare Phase of your creative deep work routine. Here’s how to do it.

Two quick words of wisdom for you today, from Marcus Aurelius.

1. “Stop letting yourself be pulled in all directions.” (Meditations 2.7)

2. Know your life’s purpose: “People who labor all their lives but have no purpose to direct their every thought and impulse toward are wasting their time—even when hard at work.” (Meditations 2.7)

Don’t be distracted this week. Take action to extract yourself—kindly but firmly—from commitments that pull you away from your purpose.

Mark

P.S. A great way to find your purpose, or to keep your focus on it, is to ​journal​ about it every day.

We spend much of our lives trying to avoid it.

As adults, we deny it’s very existence in our past experiences.

As friends, we lie or equivocate to our loved ones to avoid being the bearer of it.

As parents, we will move heaven and earth to shield our kids from it.

What is it?

Learning something shiny and new is easy. Deepening your understanding of something you already know is harder.

New ideas are a dime a dozen. But good ideas? The ideas that will change your perspective or shape your art for the next six months, the next six years?

Those are rare jewels, and they're often already there your mind's ore. You just have to mine for them.

And the best way to mine your own mind is to write down your thoughts. Journal like ​Dorothea Brande​ or ​Josh Waitzkin​. Write a letter to a friend like ​Seneca did​, sharing one piece of wisdom that you are meditating on.

Before he was the drummer in Nirvana, before he was the frontman of Foo Fighters, Dave Grohl was just a punk kid drummer from Virginia who loved music and wanted to make it his life.

Obsessed with music, he spent all his time learning the music of his heroes, practicing in his room, playing drums on pillows, listening to their recordings again and again. He learned directly from the recordings until he could play them all—every thundering drum roll, every crash, every hit.

He dreamed of one day getting to play with his heroes—literally dreamed about it.

There’s a moment in the song “The Story,” written by Phil Hanseroth and sung by Brandi Carlile, when the beat stops momentarily. Out of the quiet, Carlile suddenly scream-sings the line “All of these lines across my face.”

Coming about two-thirds of the way through, it’s the emotional high point of the song. A stirring jolt that grips the attention in the way that great music can.

In the song, Carlile is singing about how our scars tell our stories. How our imperfections make us who we are:

All of these lines across my face,
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I’ve been
And how I got to who I am

What’s your number?

Steven King’s number was 30. Writer Robert Pirsig’s was 121. Theodore Geisel’s (better known as Dr. Seuss) was 27, and Madeline L’Engle’s was 26.

These are the number of times these authors’ books were rejected before they were finally published.

James Patterson's first novel, The Thomas Berryman Number was rejected by 31 publishers before it was accepted by the 32nd. The novel went on to win the Edgar Allen Poe Award for best first novel, and Patterson has sold hundreds of millions of books. What if he had stopped after 30 tries?

One of my favorite sketches on the show Portlandia is called “Did You Read It.” In the sketch Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein meet up at a coffee shop and get in a battle to see who has read more widely.

It starts innocently enough: Carrie: ”Hey did you guys read that thing in the New Yorker last month about how golf is an analogy for marriage?” Fred: “I did. I did read that. Did you read the thing in McSweeney’s that was comparing CD tracks and album tracks? Did you read that?” Carrie: “Ya. Did you read…”

The back and forth continues, and pretty soon they reach a fever pitch trying to outdo each other. They become locked in a battle of performative well-readness.

Joshua Waitzkin, author of the beautiful book The Art of Learning, is a man with a singular list of accomplishments.

Waitzkin started playing chess at six years old almost by accident, and was immediately recognized as a prodigy. At seven he was the top ranked player at his age in the country. He went on to win numerous championships, and became a celebrity after becoming the subject of the feature film, Searching for Bobby Fischer.

In a rare twist, Waitzkin then trained professionally in martial arts in his twenties, becoming the world champion in Tai Chi push hands—a rare accomplishment for an American. He followed this by becoming a black belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu and opening a gym in New York City with the great Marcelo Garcia.

The late Kobe Bryant exerts a massive influence on young basketball players today through video footage of his talks and interviews.

Bryant’s focus on mental toughness, continuous improvement, and a relentless work ethic has inspired countless young athletes to dedicate themselves to practice and preparation.

But when asked, Bryant talked openly about how he modeled his own game on the great players who came before him, like Michael Jordan.

Serena Williams is a living legend to countless professional tennis players today. But Williams drew inspiration from her predecessors Billie Jean King and Martina Navratilova.

Most people in the film industry who have heard of Maui-born film director Destin Yori Daniel Cretton want to find a way to work with him. Most who’ve worked with Cretton want to work with him again. Why? It’s of course because of his immense talent and craft at filmmaking.

It’s also because of how he treats people.

When you are in the middle of a creative project, pay attention to what sort of rest and recreation is good for helping you finish a piece of writing, a painting, a music track, a design.

Maybe it’s sitting on a park bench, walking on a gravel road with your dog, or hiking a ridge. Maybe it’s driving to a nearby city to sit in a cafe for an afternoon and taking the long way, or biking on the back roads. It could be just doing the dishes, or knitting. Maybe it’s mowing the lawn or tending your garden.

Sometimes you just need to go where the action is. To put yourself “in the vicinity” of a hot artistic scene.

Bob Dylan moved to Greenwich Village in the early 1960s to be near the folk revival, and to seek out his hero Woody Guthrie.

Madonna moved to New York City in the late seventies and performed in clubs, eventually becoming a worldwide pop sensation.

Jackson Pollack, Patti Smith, Andy Warhol—not one of these artists was born in New York City. Each made the decision to move there.

What makes someone feel compelled to share your work with all their friends? A spirit of generosity.

And when it comes to generosity, Derek Sivers is legendary.

After a career as a professional musician, Sivers’s company CD Baby made it possible for thousands of independent bands, ​including mine​, to sell our CDs in the early 2000s.

When he sold CD Baby for $22 million, he gave it all away, ​putting the proceeds​ in a charitable trust to benefit musicians.

Between 1610 and 1612, sunspots were independently discovered by at least four different astronomers in England, Frisia, Italy, and Germany. None knew of the others’ research.

Oxygen was discovered in 1773 by Carl Wilhelm Scheele. One year later, and without knowledge of Scheele’s discovery, Joseph Priestley also discovered oxygen.