Personal Change

An inspiring story of blindsight

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One day in 1988, a woman named Diane Fletcher was taking a shower when she passed out and fell to the floor.

​​The water heater in her bathroom wasn’t properly ventilated. It was leaking carbon monoxide. That’s why Diane passed out.

She survived – her husband found her some 20 minutes later — but there were consequences.

For one thing, Diane was completely blind the first few days. Then gradually, the crude basics of her vision returned — some color and texture. But she never regained the ability to distinguish or recognize objects.

Put two wooden blocks in front of Diane, and ask her which is bigger. She would just shrug — she didn’t see either one.

But then, ask Diane to pick up one of the blocks. Her hand would shoot right towards it. Along the way, her thumb and fingers would adapt so she could grab the block perfectly.

And it wasn’t a one-time thing, either.

Put a box with a slit in it in front of Diane, and ask her which way the slit is facing, horizontally or vertically. Again, Diane couldn’t say.

But put a letter in Diane’s hand and ask her to put that letter in the slot. She did this perfectly each time — regardless of how the box was turned, even though she couldn’t “see” the slit.

It turned out Diane had “blindsight.” That’s the clever name some scientist gave to the condition.

From what I understand:

The neural pathway that goes from your eyes to the rest of your brain splits in two along the way.

One fork of this pathway goes up. It leads to the regions of your brain that interpret what you are looking at. This part of your brain also seems to cause the conscious sensation of seeing.

But another half of the pathway goes down. That part of your brain actually moves you around in space, based on visual input.

In some cases of blindsight, the consequences can be even more total and extreme than for Diane.

Some people with blindsight can be completely blind. They can’t consciously see anything. No color, no texture, nothing.

And yet, they can still see fine when it comes to movement. Another part of their brain, in charge of another part of vision, outside of conscious experience, is still working perfectly.

I don’t know about you, but I thought this blindsight stuff was absolutely incredible. It made me wonder how much people like Diane can get done on faith alone.

Yes, she had the absolute personal experience of not being able to see. But could she walk down an unfamiliar staircase without tumbling to the bottom… even though she couldn’t “see” the stairs?

Could she go outside and walk around a park? Could she avoid tripping over roots and never slam face-first into a tree… just by putting one foot in front of the other, over and over?

I don’t know. And I don’t want to get all Robert Collier-y, “Secret of the Ages” on you, and claim you can manifest anything you can imagine.

Bit I will tell you I’ve been to both extremes in my life.

I’ve spent many years sulking in the corner, arms crossed tightly, frown on my face, lower lip pouting out… because I knew for a fact, based on hard personal experience and intuition as well… that I didn’t have the biological talent needed to achieve the things I wanted.

But then I’ve also had moments in my life, which sometimes stretched out into months and years. During these moments, I tapped into magical new ways of being. I suddenly found myself with innate skills and abilities I never dreamed I could have.

Maybe that sounds a little abstract. Maybe you want some specific examples of these transformations I experienced.

Fine. But let’s keep that for another time. Right now, I just want to leave you with the following possibility:

You might have your own blindsight. Or maybe many of them. Not through brain damage. But just by virtue of being human.

The fact is, the unconscious part of our existence is a deep and mysterious thing.

There might be quiet little zombies inside you, working away right now… solving complex problems and providing you with unique and powerful talents and skills… completely outside of your consciousness or awareness.

And yet they are there, working on your behalf, or ready to do so.

All you have to do is to put yourself in a situation where those zombies have a chance to apply their diligent work. Well, that… plus you gotta have some faith.

Ok, that’s all the inspiration I can give you for today.

I might have something new tomorrow. If you want to read that, consider signing up for my email newsletter.

The #1 most powerful personal discipline in all the world

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Today, I want to share with you the #1 most powerful personal discipline in all the world.

It struck me like lightning a few days ago when I came across it in Dan Kennedy’s No B.S. Time Management book.

Dan says everybody he has ever met who sticks to this discipline ends up hugely successful… while everybody who doesn’t stick to it eventually fails.

In other words, this one discipline is the difference between the winners and the losers… the Bugs Bunnies on the one hand, and the Daffy Ducks on the other… the Jerry Seinfelds and the George Costanzas of the world.

So with that intro, would you like to know what this discipline is? Get ready:

It’s punctuality.

“Gaaaah, come on!” you say. “Next you’ll be telling me to brush my teeth and make my bed each morning!”

Keep yer shirt on. I’m not telling you to do anything, tooth-wise or punctuality-wise.

I just want to share what Dan says about punctuality. He makes a big case for punctuality being a proxy for trustworthiness. According to Dan’s research into the brains of the rich and successful, the higher you go up the wealth ladder, the more people will judge you based on your punctuality.

Even so, maybe punctually genuinely is not an issue for you.

It’s never been an issue for me. I show up to meetings on time, I deliver client work at agreed-upon deadlines, I do stuff when I tell people I will do it.

But here’s the lightning bolt that struck me when I read Dan’s praise of punctuality:

I realized that while I’m punctual in my contracts with others…

I’m not at all punctual in my contracts with myself. Rather, I’m very sloppy and lax with myself.

The fact is, I’m lazy by nature. I take advantage of working on my own, with no evil boss standing above me with a big wooden ruler, ready to rap me on the knuckles as soon as I start to lag.

So I show up to work when I feel like it. I take long lunches. I pay no mind to the clock. Why would I? It’s the benefit of working for myself, by myself.

​​Here’s Dan Kennedy again:

Good news. bad news.
Good news! You are now your own boss!
Bad news! You are a lousy boss with one unreliable employee!

So all I want to tell you is that I’m now taking punctuality a lot more seriously. Yes, even when I’m by myself. Even when no one around to judge me or distrust me or make me feel unprofessional.

I can tell you I’ve been more productive as a result while spending less time working. And more importantly, I feel better. I also feel a little morally superior to that undisciplined sloth who lived in my skin until just a few days ago.

Normally, this might be the point in my email where I suggest the same change of attitude to you.

I certainly won’t advise you against taking up the personal discipline of punctuality. But I won’t advise you to take it up either.

Because I don’t have to.

If you’re curious how I can be so cavalier and confident about your self-discipline habits and your future success… well, sign up for my newsletter. My email tomorrow will explain everything. I’ll send it out at exactly 8:37 PM CET.

7-time Mr. Emailympia’s self-improvement habit

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Werewolves were still roaming around when I woke up this morning. The clock showed 4:51am.

I lay around in the dark for a bit. I imagined laying around some more… but no! I jumped up, grabbed my stuff, and raced off to the 24-hour gym.

In case you’re starting to break out in a cold sweat, thinking this email is about seizing the day by the tail… don’t worry. The fact is, I should have stayed in bed.

Because in a few minutes, there I was at the gym, sleepy and foggy-brained. Somewhere in this haze, I thought it would be a good idea to lift a weighted barbell over my head.

My mind was elsewhere. My muscles were tired. I staggered forward under the unexpected weight… braked by standing up on my tiptoes… swayed back and forth… and almost dropped the barbell, plates and all, onto my skull.

A moment later, I stood there, looking at the now-harmless barbell on the floor. And I remembered something that 7x Mr. Olympia Arnold Schwarzenegger once said:

“Doing an exercise once with awareness is worth ten times an exercise done while distracted.”

Good advice for the gym.

But maybe you don’t care for the gym.

Maybe you just care for better marketing and stronger copy.

In that case, I can share a related idea by 7x Mr. Emailympia, John Bejakovic.

Here’s a little habit I used to practice in the old days of writing this email newsletter.

First, I made a list of what I called “1% improvements.” These were things that I knew made for better emails… but that I didn’t practice regularly. Not with any awareness at least.

My habit was to pick one of these 1% improvements each week. And for the rest of the week, with each email I wrote, I consciously and awarely practiced that idea.

Result?

Wealth, fame, and, like I said, 7 Mr. Emailympia titles so far. And who knows what the future holds? Hollywood stardom… a career in politics… or maybe marriage to a Kennedy.

So I’d like to suggest to you:

Make your own list of “1% improvements.” Pick one each week. Bring your awareness to it. And watch your returns compound, just like they are doing for me.

“Incorrect,” I hear an accountant saying. “In order for returns to compound, you have to keep your investment alive. And you said you stopped your 1% habit. Therefore, you are not compounding anything, you meathead.”

Fair point. So as of today, I’d like to announce I’m picking up this “1% improvement” habit again.

I won’t spell out which specific habit I’m working on this week. Maybe you can spot it in today’s email. And if not, don’t worry. You get another chance tomorrow. I’ll be back.

Excuses for the perfect murder

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“Come on Bobby, get in the car! We’ll give you a ride!”

“No, Dickie. It’s just a couple blocks. I’ll walk.”

“Get in Bobby! Quit being such a wet blanket! I want to show you my new tennis racket!”

On May 21 1924, two Chicago teenagers, Nathan Leopold and Richard “Dickie” Loeb, rented a car. It was the first step of their plan for the afternoon’s perfect crime.

Leopold, a former child prodigy, was 19. He had just graduated from the University of Chicago and was preparing to enter Harvard Law School.

Loeb was 18. A year earlier, he had graduated from the University of Michigan as the youngest graduate ever.
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Leopoold and Loeb drove slowly down the street. They spotted their chosen victim. 14-year-old Bobby Franks, Loeb’s second cousin.

It was supposed to be the perfect murder. A demonstration that Leopold and Loeb were supermen. Because Leopold was a big reader of Friedrich Nietzsche. He was fascinated by Nietzsche’s idea of the superman — the rare, unusually gifted man who can rise above common morality.

Besides, Leopold thought, he and Loeb were too smart. They had planned everything. Nobody could ever catch them.

Leopold and Loeb cajoled Bobby into the car. A few moments later, they knocked him out with a chisel, dragged him to the back seat, and strangled him.

​​They then disposed of the body in a pre-planned location, 25 miles south of Chicago. They washed the upholstery of the car and went on with their lives.

“Err… fascinating stuff, Bejako,” I hear you say. “But why are you creeping me out? Where is this story going?

All right, let me get to it.

Yesterday, I talked abut a squeaky-clean guru who seemed to blatantly lie about his backstory to please the audience. I promised to wrap that email up today.

So the first half of what I want to tell you is:

Sell a transfer of responsibility.

Because Leopold and Loeb did not succeed in carrying off the perfect murder. An act of Providence interfered.

Loeb’s horn-rimmed glasses slipped out next to the body of Bobby Franks. The glasses had a custom hinge that could be traced back to only three people in Chicago, Loeb among them.

At the subsequent trial, Leopold and Loeb’s lawyer focused all his efforts on avoiding the death penalty. He gave a 12-hour-long closing statement, which has become a classic of American law. He supposedly brought tears to the judge’s eyes.

The lawyer managed to keep Leopold and Loeb from the gallows. He persuaded the judge to spare them in spite of the gruesome and senseless crime… in spite of the innocence of the victim… and in spite of the public outcry for the two young supermen to be hanged.

So how did the lawyer do it?

First, he admitted that Leopold and Loeb had done the deed.

And then, over those 12 hours, he explained the real blame lay at the feet of Loeb’s domineering governess… of nature and evolution… of bloodthirsty newspapers… of callous university professors who exposed the two teenagers to ideas they were not ready for… of the Macmillan publishing company and its reckless spreading of inflammatory books… and of course, of Friedrich Nietzsche.

In other words, the deed might have been Leopold and Loeb’s. But the fault was everybody else’s. And the judge bought it.

Just imagine:

If an appeal like this can sway an impartial, third-party, external judge… what can it do for a partial, first-party, internal judge?

That’s what I’m talking about. Transfer of responsibility.

That’s why smart marketers find ways to take that internal judge in the prospect’s mind.. and show him how all those bad outcomes in the past are everybody else’s fault. And not only that.

Smart marketers also make the prospect believe any possible bad outcomes in the future won’t be his fault either.

But perhaps you’re worried about the bad future outcome of this email never finishing. So let me really wrap it up.

My conclusion is that a transfer of responsibility is something you want to sell to people…

But it’s not something you want to buy yourself. Or at least I don’t.

Because I’ve learned from direct marketing how powerful this drive to escape responsibility can be. And I’ve since noticed it in myself as well.

I’ve also learned that trustworthiness and authority can be easily bought online.

That’s why I’ve made it a personal policy not to get attached to online personalities. Even the ones I like and feel I can trust.

Of course, I consider their ideas. But I take on the responsibility of deciding whether these ideas are something I should believe in and act upon… or not.

Perhaps that’s a policy that makes sense for you to adopt as well. And you know. Not because I say so.

Last thing:

If you like reading Friedrich Nietsche, you might like my email newsletter. Here’s where you can give it a try.

An open letter to an internet detective who caught me sneaking yesterday

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Yesterday, I wrote an email which referenced something Ben Settle said a few days ago. Big mistake.

Because one vigilante detective on the Internet immediately sensed something suspicious was afoot. So he reached through the screen… grabbed me by the scruff of the neck… and started investigating where I’ve been the past few days. He wrote:

“The other time John Bejakovic said he was unsubscribing from Ben Settle’s email list. I wonder how he still managed to get wind of an email Ben sent few days ago.”

Ever since my teenage days, I’ve loved explaining my comings and goings to other people. So as a way of explaining myself this time, let me tell you a fun Dan Kennedy story.

Many years ago, Dan worked with a client named Tom Orent. Orent is a marketer in the dentistry niche.

One of Orent’s offers was a yearly $48k coaching program. (By the way, this was back in the early 2000s. Think more like $200k in today’s marketing money.)

So at a seminar one time, Dan got a question from an intrigued audience member. “What the hell does Tom Orent do in his coaching program to justify the $48k price tag?”

Dan chuckled. “First of all,” he said, “let me suggest a better question. Rather than, what the hell does Tom Orent do to justify his $48k fee… the better question would be, how does Tom Orent sell his $48k coaching program. Because the sales mechanism is far more useful for you to discover than what is being delivered. However, since you asked the wrong question, you get the answer to the wrong question…”

And then Dan laid out the pretty uninteresting content of Tom Orent’s $48k coaching program.
​​
Similarly, here’s my explanation of my whereabouts over the past few months:

I did unsubscribe from Ben Settle’s print newsletter this summer. That’s what I wrote about in a series of emails a short while ago.

But I never unsubscribed from Ben’s emails. That would be foolish, even by my standards. Because like Dan says, the sales mechanism is far more useful to discover than what is being delivered.

But really… that’s not why I keep reading Ben’s emails.

I bet you’ve got a bursting swipe file already. I know I do. And so the real reason why I still subscribe to Ben’s emails is not so I can stuff more word tonnage into my swipe file, like a little squirrel with its cheeks full of acorns, trying to fit just one more in there.

No, I read Ben’s emails for another reason. Again, here’s Dan Kennedy:

“Put your best stuff in your lowest-priced stuff.”

I don’t know if Ben goes by this. But I’ve personally found a lot of tactical, business, and personal value in Ben’s free emails.

And that’s the truth, Mr. Internet Detective. That’s why I keep reading. And that’s how I got wind of Ben’s email from a few days ago. That’s the answer to your question.

But let me suggest a better question.

Rather than, how did I get wind of Ben’s email… the better question would be, how do I keep from missing out on valuable lessons that Ben hides in plain sight? And how did I recently apply some of those lessons to my business, and profit from them already?

That’s what I was planning on talking about in today’s email. ​
​
Because there’s no point in getting somebody’s best stuff for free… unless you recognize it as such and then do something with it. However, since I got asked the wrong question…

Want answers to some right questions? I write an email newsletter every day. You can subscribe to it here, and in that way, keep track of my suspicious comings and goings.

 

If you’re so smart, why aren’t you rich?

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Are you ready to be outraged or maybe alarmed?

Then let me tell you about the research of one Alessandro Pluchino. He’s a mathematician at the University of Catania.

Pluchino’s research was just reported in MIT Technology Review. The article is titled, “If you’re so smart, why aren’t you rich?”

It turns out it’s all about luck. Rich people aren’t any more talented or hard-working.

We know this because Pluchino created a computer simulation. His simulation recreated the real-world distribution of wealth. And within this simulation, it’s chance that makes people rich.

Little-known fact:

I spent a good number of years in academe. One reason I left was I didn’t like the taste of cooked science like the above.

The recipe is simple.

Start with a culturally and politically attractive premise. For example, “wealth is undeserved.” And then find a technical argument to back that premise up.

And then a bit later, say in 2022, send out your sack-carrying bureaucrats to people’s doors to confiscate any extra grain or crypto profits that accumulated over the past 12 months.

If anybody even thinks to complain, have your bureaucrats pull out the science paper and start waving it around.

Make people feel guilty, small-minded, and ignorant for not doing what the state asks. After all, nobody really deserved that surplus in the first place — the science tells us so.

I’d like to give you another explanation of why you’re not rich, even if you’re so smart.

It’s based on uncooked science. It has nothing to do with luck. And it’s more empowering than Pluchino’s conclusion above.

Here’s the upshot:

You’re not rich because you’re not focused on money.

Maybe you’re focused on building up your skills or services, and waiting to become so good they can’t ignore you.

Maybe you’re focused on doing what you’re told — the next diploma, the next promotion, the next opportune moment.

Or maybe you’re focused on entirely other things — like playing badminton or reading books about religion.

Whatever the case, you’re not rich because your focus wanders elsewhere. Bring your focus to money, and watch it start to multiply.

How do we know this?

Like I said, science. Specifically, a crossover study of one. One person’s controlled scientific experiment of many years of not focusing on money… and not making much of it, except from occasional windfalls…

Followed by a few months of focusing on money and… well, I’ll tell you more in the coming weeks and months how that’s been working out for me.

Meanwhile, if you want to get rich — not today, not tomorrow, but maybe some time soon — then start focusing. And start keeping an eye out for those sack-carrying bureaucrats.

Caesar’s gruesome message that only few will want to hear

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In 75 BC, a group of pirates in the Aegean sea captured a 25-year-old Roman noble named Julius Caesar.

Caesar was neither scared nor impressed. When the pirates demanded 20 talents of silver for his release, Caesar put his hands on his hips and spat on the ground.

“Morons!” he said. “Don’t you know who you’re dealing with? Ask for at least 50 talents!”

The pirates should have taken heed at this point. Instead, they got greedy. They took up the 50 talent offer.

Caesar’s men left for a few weeks to collect the silver.

Meanwhile, Caesar settled in among the pirates. Not really as their captive. More as their demanding, moody leader.

He gambled with the pirates. He shushed them when he wanted to take a nap. He read his poetry to them and mocked them as illiterates when they weren’t adequately impressed.

Oh, and every so often, he also threatened to crucify them.

“Tee-hee,” sniggered his new pirate friends. “Sure, JC. You will ‘crucify’ us!”

After 38 days, the ransom arrived. 50 talents of silver, as promised.

The pirates released Caesar. Bad move.

The newly free Caesar went to the next island over, a place where he had no authority or influence. And he raised a small army.

He sailed after the pirates. He captured them. And as he said he would, he had them crucified. For leniency, he first had their throats cut.

When I was a kid — I guess like most boys — I imagined I would grow up into a kind of Caesar.

Fearless, moody, throwing down impossible threats that aroused mockery at first but that I then turned into frightening reality, against all odds.

Well, it didn’t turn out that way.

I’ve found I’m very unable to mold the world to my conscious will. Hell, like I wrote yesterday, I’ve never even niched down with any success.

I was a “cold email copywriter” for a bit during my first year freelancing… then an “alternative health email copywriter” for a while… and a “crypto conversion copywriter” for another… and all I really got to show for it was a bunch of wasted time and missed opportunities.

I’m not telling you not to specialize. I’m not telling you to set goals or to strive towards them.

All I really want to say is if you read stories like the one above, and then set your mind to glory… only to watch with horror as your own results fail to match up with that of Caesar… well, there is still hope.

Caesar once wrote it’s “easier to find men who will volunteer to die, than to find those who are willing to endure pain with patience.”

That’s a little too gruesome to use as a motivational message at the end of a daily email.

But it does speak a fundamental human truth, one you can profit from. Because our brains love to think in instances of flashy glory.

But that’s not how the world works. All I’m saying is this:

We’re all too obsessed with modeling what successful people do today that they are successful. Those are the instances of flashy glory.

There might be more value in modelling how these people got successful in the first place. But let me stop here — before I ruin a perfectly good and gory email with some mushy inspirational stuff. I believe you can draw your own conclusions if you like. And if you want more gory, maybe inspirational stuff, sign up here.

How to win an argument by not really trying

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About 20 years ago, when I first read Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People, I came across a clever aphorism.

“You cannot win an argument,” wrote Carnegie.

That’s stuck with me ever since, even though it goes against my argumentative nature. The fact is, I like to debate and argue and show people how I’m right and how they aren’t.

Except, like Carnegie says, you cannot really win. You cannot argue people over to your way of thinking. And even if you do get them to admit that you’re right and they’re wrong, you’ve gained nothing except their hatred.

So most of the time, when I find I’m about to let the debating crow out of its cage, I bite my tongue and I stuff the ugly black bird back where it belongs. I smile. I nod. And I think to myself, “Boy, how wrong you are. But you won’t hear it from me.”

This is an improvement over losing friends and alienating people. But it’s hardly a creative and productive way to deal with new ideas.

There’s gotta be something better, right?

Of course. It’s just that I wasn’t clever enough to think of it myself. But I came across this better way to win arguments in an interview with billionaire investor Howard Marks.

Marks was asked what early advice helped him become so successful. He said there wasn’t any investing advice that did it.

Instead, it was just an attitude, and he’s not sure where he picked it up. He illustrated it by describing how he deals with his longtime business partner:

“Each of us is open to the other’s ideas. When we have an intellectual discussion, neither of us puts a great emphasis on winning. We want to get to the right answer. We have enormous respect for each other, which I think is the key. When he says something, a position different from mine, my first reaction is not, ‘How can I diffuse that? How can I beat that? How can I prove he’s wrong?’ My first reaction is to say, ‘Hey, what can I get from that? What can I take away? Is he right? Maybe he’s right and I was wrong.'”

“Yeah, yeah,” I hear you saying. “Enough with the high-sounding billionaire lessons. Why don’t you get off your preachy pony and give me some ideas for how I could money? Like today?”

Well I never… the ingratitude!

Honestly, this intellectual humility thing was my idea for you to make money. But you are right. It might take some time to bear fruit.

If you want to make money today, then I don’t have much advice to give you. Well, none except what I wrote up a few years ago and put inside my Upwork book.

“Upwork!” you now say. “I’ve tried it! It doesn’t work. It’s a cesspool.”

You may be completely right. I certainly won’t argue with you.

But if you want to see what I have to say about success on Upwork, and what you might be able to take away from it and maybe even make money from, today, then here is my Upwork book, still available for some uncertain time on Amazon:

https://bejakovic.com/upwork

Out of office and Carlton’s self-programming trick

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I finished up this morning’s Zoom call and then I tiptoed back to bed, snuck in, and started shivering under three layers of blankets.

There were two things I wanted to get done today. The Zoom call was one. And I managed to get it done, in spite of being sick with some unidentified illness.

I’m telling you this in case you’ve written me in the past few days and haven’t gotten a response. It’s because I’ve pared down what I’m doing to the absolute essentials.

I also wanted to share a little psychological hack I learned from John Carlton. Carlton writes:

Gary Halbert used to buy himself watches, or cameras, or even boats (preferably used wooden craft requiring thousands in maintenance, but that’s another story) whenever he finished a big gig. As a reward for a job well done.

I’ve always rewarded myself with free time (as in taking the phone off the hook for an entire week, or splitting to hang with friends).

It doesn’t matter what, precisely, the reward is (as long as it’s meaningful to you)… but the ACT of rewarding yourself fires up the motivation part of your unconscious brain.

You might think it’s silly to connect Carlton’s watches-and-sailboats advice to my situation today.

So be it.

But I don’t think I could have pulled myself together for the call had I scheduled more work for myself right after, and had I not promised myself that shivery, four-hour nap as a reward.

But anyways. Here’s an email-writing tip. Wrap up what you’ve been talking about by giving your reader a takeaway he can use today. So here it is, in Carlton’s words:

Fastest path to burnout is to finish a grueling gig, clear the desk, and then start the next grueling gig.

What the hell are you thinking, you’re Superman?

Decompress, go shop for a goodie, teach your brain to associate end-of-job with fun rewards.

Main key: The reward cannot be something you’d buy or do anyway. It has to be pure excessive nonsense (like Halbert’s 14th watch or 3rd boat) that delights your Inner Kid.

Last point:

If you’d like to read me repurposing and curating famous copywriters good ideas, consider signing up to my email newsletter.

100,000 bad emails

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“I was a profound failure. Not really profound enough. I kind of slid in the middle of failure. Some of us were picturesque. I was just dull.”

Chuck Jones went to art college at age 15.

You might have heard of Chuck Jones before. He eventually became the Oscar-winning animator behind the best Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck cartoons… the creator of Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote… and the director of How The Grinch Stole Christmas.

But back at art college, Jones found everyone else was taller and could draw infinitely better than him.

He was dejected. One thing that helped him was a teacher who stepped in front of the whole class and said:

“Every one of you has 100,000 bad drawings in you. The sooner you get rid of them, the better it will be for everybody.”

This includes everybody who signed up for my Influential Emails training. They’ve all been getting emails from me. I want to know why they signed up, and what they hope to get out of it. One guy replied:

For me, the challenge is finding ideas that seem unrelated, connecting them to create insights and then communicate them in an intriguing way without sounding fake.

In all honesty, its to remove the fear of I don’t know what to write with the confidence that I have a process for figuring out exactly what to do.

I’ll talk about the specifics of my process inside Infuential Emails. But honestly, the comment above brilliantly lays out the gist of my process, in just one sentence. That’s all you need to get started. That, along with the Chuck Jones quote above to get over any lingering fear.

But wait, there’s more!

This is part of a bigger thing I’ve found in life.

Many times, if I’m faced with a brick wall in my path and I can’t see any way through it, I’ll take out a piece of paper. And I’ll start writing down my currently available ideas.

“#1. Bang head against wall. #2 Beat fists against wall. #3 Lie down and die. #4….” When I free up my brain of bad ideas that take me nowhere, I sometimes find good ideas underneath.

Do you remember the rejection game? It was a trendy thing some 10 years ago.

Each day the goal was to get somebody to tell you no. As soon as you did that, you succeeded. The point was to keep the streak going for as long as you could.

I tried it back then. It was surprisingly fun and liberating.

Because when you seek out and reward yourself for reaching what you normally avoid, you don’t just achieve more. You reframe what success means.

Did you find this informative and motivational? Are you ready to get going writing something yourself? If so, good.

But did you think I’ve written more coherent and interesting emails in the past, and that this isn’t among one of my standouts?

Even better. I’ve just gotten rid of another one of those 100,000 bad emails, and freed up my brain for something new and possibly amazing the next time I sit down to write. And you can do the same, starting today.