Author’s note: There are minor Birdman spoilers in here. If you haven’t seen the film yet, reading this won’t necessarily ruin it for you, but some of this piece might not make as much sense. (Also, what are you waiting for?)

I loved Birdman — both times I watched it, and likely when I’ll see it again. As a viewer, I enjoyed the incredible single-take cinematography, powerful performances, and unexpected humor. As a drummer, I relished in the heavily percussive soundtrack and frequent cuts to a performing musician.

But most of all, as a writer and content creator, I loved the movie’s exploration of self-doubt and the role of criticism as a motivating and demotivating factor.

In fact, for anyone who has ever attempted to make / do / create something (which, isn’t that all of us?), these themes are totally applicable to everyday life. Whether you watched the movie and thought, “Holy Batman, that was awesome,” or “What just happened?” I’d like to talk about what the movie meant to me, and what it might mean to you too. What can we all learn about overcoming self-doubt?

That negative voice in your head

“Maybe that’s what you are — a joke.” -Riggan Thomson (as Birdman), to himself

My first piece here was a review of The War of Art, a book that describes the invisible blocks we create that hold us back. To me, what Steven Pressfield identifies as “Resistance” is physically manifested as the recurring Birdman character in the movie. Whereas Resistance is an intangible negative force, Birdman is a sometimes-real supernatural incarnation of Riggan Thomson’s insecurity and self-doubt.

How many times have you tried to do something before a voice — that voice — tried to stop you, or told yourself you couldn’t / shouldn’t / won’t be able to?

Did you ever think of learning something new before telling yourself, “There’s no way I’ll ever be able to figure this out”? Or cutting something negative out of your life and doubting you have the power to do it? Maybe you’ve stopped yourself from doing something as minor as posting a Facebook status after thinking, “My friends are going to give me so much shit for this.”

Of course you have. I have.

We all have.

Sometimes, doubt is a positive, necessary force that encourages us to keep thinking or keep building. But most of the time, self-doubt is actually a very negative pain in the ass that holds us back when it really shouldn’t.

Although I don’t think I’ve ever seen or personified my own personal Resistance (JK Simmons in Whiplash?), Michael Keaton frequently confronts his nemesis in the movie. As he curses to himself, demolishes his surroundings and takes to drugs and alcohol, we see a man struggling with his inability to reconcile his past success with the uncertainty of his future.

Wherever you are in your life, whether you’ve made major steps or are still planning your path, I’m willing to bet there are flashes of thought that try to hold you back. We know what self-doubt feels like. And in the case of Birdman, we know what is looks like and sounds like too. It sucks.

But why do we doubt ourselves so much?

Why are we our own Birdmen and Birdwomen?

Haters gonna hate. Critics gonna critique.

“A man becomes a critic when he cannot be an artist in the same way that a man becomes an informer when he cannot be a soldier.” – Riggan Thomson

Riggan yells this adapted Gustave Flaubert quote to Tabitha, the influential, foreboding Broadway critic in the movie. He ends the tirade yelling, “None of this cost you fucking anything! … You risk nothing!” in a scene that feels so real and is so refreshing to hear from a guy who’s pouring his heart into creating something of his own.

The fear of criticism is very real — and very powerful. In fact, I’m willing to bet that so much of our self-doubt and insecurity stems from hurtful criticism we’ve received in the past and hurtful criticism we’re afraid of hearing in the future. That’s why overcoming self-doubt is so difficult.

I can relate to a moment when the fear of criticism almost held me back. I wrote a two-part piece here on how I learned to produce YouTube videos (Part 1 and Part 2). Ironically, although I learned the tools and techniques, I actually hadn’t yet finished and uploaded a single video! I did this knowingly, to hold myself accountable. Like the previews for the play in Birdman, leading up to the premiere, I set the opening night schedule (or at least announced the play) well before my first product was finished.

Even after I created my first video, edited it, and watched it a dozen times and was happy with it, I hesitated. Could I have done it better in another take? Should I film it again with better camera positioning? Am I ready to put myself out there — to put a freaking video of myself online, for anyone to see?!

Fear and self-doubt plagued me before hitting the publish button. But as a I sat on this final product, one that I was happy with, one that I labored over for countless hours, I realized, I had gotten in my head more than I ever have. Finally, I told myself —

Just fucking do it.

“It’s important to me! All right? Maybe not to you, or your cynical friends whose only ambition is to go viral. But to me… This is my career, this is my chance to do some work that actually means something!” – Riggan Thomson

Okay, so maybe this video isn’t necessarily my career (yet?), and going viral wouldn’t actually be so bad (… at all). But there came a point when I realized: This is good enough. In fact, I’m so happy with what I made, and, like I have so many times before, I’m holding myself back for no reason. I’m not going to let that happen. Not this time, anyway.

I hit the upload button and sent my Birdman flying away.

The reception has been great, and I’m connecting with drummers and finding encouragement to keep going at every turn. In fact, while writing this piece, I saw that the manufacturer of my equipment posted my video to their Facebook page! And I couldn’t help but laugh when, among the likes and positive comments, I found a perfect one for this piece:

“Please drumer sucks”

In my last article, I included a Churchill quote about how there are always going to be critics, naysayers, and haters. The feeling of pride and accomplishment of having my work publicly shared infinitely outweighs a misspelled, snarky jab. So much so that my first troll actually feels good — like something is really happening.

The ending to Birdman was less clear. If you haven’t seen it, I’ll spare you the spoiler, but even the directors of the movie stated it was uncertain. Is Riggan ultimately rewarded by the adoration he so desperately craves? Or does he succumb to his own worst enemy?

Regardless of your interpretation, I think the message is clear.

We can be our own worst enemies, perpetuated by the fear of criticism. But our insecurity and self-doubt is so often just a figment of our imagination. Whatever you do for the sake of overcoming self-doubt, rest assured that you’re not alone, and you can do it.

Do you agree with my interpretation of Birdman? If so, how does it relate to your life? If not, what did you think about the movie and its meaning? Drop a comment below!

The post Birdman, Self-Doubt, and the Fear of Criticism appeared first on The Art of Charm.

I’ve been writing about some very serious things lately. So, I want to talk about something even more serious.

Shoes. And specifically, men’s shoe styles.

But first — what makes me qualified to be your style baron and navigator of sartorial waters?

Well, for one thing, in a previous life as a jetsetting twentysomething management consultant with a dangerous new source of disposable income and premature taste for the good life, I developed an obsession with men’s shoe styles and clothes. Sites, blogs, stores, brands — I was on top of everything #menswear. I established a bit of a reputation as a dandy in my office.

I also did it without breaking the bank, by doing a lot of research and shopping online, often from lesser-known new brands.

I’ve whittled down by wardrobe since then, but I still believe that dressing well — and appropriately — is important. It’s also teachable and learnable.

I’ll be doing roundups to simplify things, but my top recommendations for resources are Put This On (for frequent posts covering a wide range of topics + periodic guides), StyleForum (for a huge community of knowledgeable and usually friendly stylish dudes), and Valet (for a slightly trendier and more product-based site but with good advice and recommendations). Antonio from Real Men Real Style also frequently posts great overviews and guides at The Art of Manliness, which are very helpful and informative.

Style? Don’t You Mean Fashion?

I differentiate style from fashion. Style is eternal and personal, whereas fashion is trend-driven and often powered by groupthink. It’s a topic worth its own discussion, but the main point is that certain items of clothes and shoes looked good 50 years ago and will look good 50 years from now. (Think James Bond’s tailored suits or Marlon Brando’s white tee getups.)

My personal philosophy has shifted from caring too much to wearing what’s comfortable, fits well, and works for me, so I can worry about more important things. In addition to my Chipotle routine, I have a Doug Funnie-esque uniform to keep me focused on the important things. Hanes white pocket tees, alternating beat-up raw denim and black Levi’s jeans, and boots or white sneakers, depending on the weather.

Why Shoes?

They may comprise a proportionally small component of your overall appearance, but they are worth putting extra time (and money) into. Multiple studies have found that we make judgements about people based on their shoes, and I’ve found this to be the case as well. Especially when it comes to making a good impression on women.

If I told you I went on a date with a girl once who told me she gave me her number only because she liked my shoes, would you believe me? (You should, as much as I’d like to think it was my acerbic wit and irresistible charm, though clearly they go together.)

Shoes should be chosen appropriately for the situation. Wearing running shoes to a first date or your unpolished beat-up “dress shoes” to a serious job interview? I totally agree that it should be you that your date or employer is evaluating and not what you wear, but expect to be taken as seriously as you take your appearance. To me, it goes beyond the superficial: What you wear is an element of your personal taste. The choices you make about your appearance reflect how you value (or don’t) the occasion at hand.

In addition to their aesthetic, your shoes are also the most functional piece of clothing you’ll wear, as you spend most of your day on your feet. I can’t count how many bros I saw wearing socks and boat shoes in the middle of Chicago winters, imagining how uncomfortable that would be. The right pair of shoes for the right weather and/or situation could mean the difference between a pleasant day and a painful one.

Men’s shoe styles are also an investment — higher quality well-made shoes might be more expensive upfront but pay for themselves in the future. For example, a $200 pair of dress shoes that can be resoled for $40 a year (while developing patina and a story) are cheaper in the long-run than buying a new pair of ugly, crappy shoes for $90 that wear down and need to be replaced once a year.

On that note, the internet has opened up the door for direct-to-consumer niche men’s footwear brands to sell very well made shoes at lower than retail prices. I’ve rounded up as many of these (and more common) brands in a list of recommendations to step up your shoe game.

1. These boots were made for walking.

The first purchase I made with my signing bonus and before moving to Chicago was a pair of Wolverine 1000 mile boots. They’ve seen way more than a thousand miles and have traveled with me around the world. Great shoes, but pretty expensive and a bit clunky/clowny in shape as they stretch and age.

My buddy and his friend started Thursday Boot Company and I couldn’t recommend a pair of boots more highly. I went for the Captain in black myself and get compliments on them everywhere I go. Nope, I’m not getting a cut for recommending them, but I love that two young entrepreneurs were able to create a beautiful, well-made, durable and stylish boot for under $200. (Look through their Kickstarter for a lesson on how to kick ass and take names.)

If you’ve never worn boots before, prepare to feel a new level of badassery and manliness you never imagined possible before. Initially rigid and uncomfortable, they will eventually shape to your feet and ankles and protect you from both the elements and looking basic.

2. Crush the snow with style.

Leather boots are perfect for chilly weather and lighter rain, but for serious snow or precipitation, you’ll want something right for the occasion.

LL Bean duck boots were a vintage prep staple and kind of “had their moment” a few years ago, but will pretty much make you amphibious and seek out puddles like an adolescent. Sorel boots — on the more expensive end — keep your feet toasty and dry while looking good as well.

If you work at an office where dress shoes are required, consider bringing them separately from your snow shoes to change into, or wearing galoshes. Essentially condoms for your dress shoes, galoshes slip on and off can be put away after you arrive in style.

3. Not all dress shoes were created equally.

I bet that you, like me, separated your tiny college closet into a pile of sneakers, a pile of flip flops, and a pair of “dress shoes” that looked like a duck-billed platypus that just completed a Tough Mudder.

Remember when I said that style is subjective? The only thing I will not compromise on are square-toed shoes. Don’t do it. Please, just don’t.

A brand that makes really well made and good looking men’s dress shoes that won’t break the bank is Jack Erwin. Easy shipping and returns makes buying them online possible.

For an all-around dress shoes that will work with pretty much every color suit, you can’t go wrong with a black cap-toe oxford. If you’re looking for something a little more dashing and wear more grey and navy (because black is for evening weddings and funerals), consider a burgundy medallion-toe or brown wingtip.

If you have to try on a shoe in person to buy it, Allen Edmonds is a great made in the USA brand that makes a lot of classic styles at decent prices. I recommend the Park Avenue and Strand shoes, which are often on-sale at Nordstrom and can be found for much cheaper new or used on eBay.

4. Flip flops are a flop.

That’s a good start for your dress/formal shoe game, but what about the more casual side of things?

Flip flops make perfect sense when you’re on the beach or by the pool. But the inconvenient truth is that nobody wants to see your hairy toes and untrimmed nails anywhere else.

There’s a lot more room for personal taste here, depending on the look you are going for, but I’m a fan of timeless sneakers that look better with age. From basic white chucks to OG Vans, I prefer simpler styles. The cool kids wear Common Projects, glorified white sneakers with pretentious gold numbers. Kent Wang is an online boutique that makes a similar version for much cheaper.

Desert boots are another classic, simple, and comfortable way to up your style. They’re also a great date shoe if you feel uncomfortable in dressier shoes. Be forewarned: They are pretty common at this point, and despite the “boot” moniker, the “desert” part means they were not exactly engineered for inclement weather.

Penny loafers are another vintage prep staple that are comfortable and classy and make life easy with no laces. Bass makes the classic “Weejun” and pretty much every other shoe brand makes a version as well. Rubber soles will tend to be more comfortable and less durable, whereas leather soles are dressier and longer-lasting.

5. Whatever you choose, take care.

Seriously. If you’re going to up your shoe game, you have to up your shoe care game as well. Consider it part of your manly routine of self-maintenance and self-discipline.

If you wear dress shoes, alternate them every day and put cedar shoe trees when they’re warming up in the bullpen for their next appearance. Also, polish them at least semi-regularly, and condition the leather once in a while. Soles eventually do wear out, but the wonderful thing about a well made goodyear welted dress shoe is that a decent cobbler can replace the sole for you, and ta-dah! Like a new pair of shoes. For significantly cheaper.

Lastly, your budget might not allow you to go out and spend much on shoes, but consider the benefits and explore ways to find great shoes at better prices. I personally feel iffy about buying used shoes, but you can stumble across some great pairs, and there’s a huge online marketplace for cheaper unworn shoes and factory seconds.

Regardless of what you chose to buy or wear, remember — people do notice your shoes. If you’re developing into a well-rounded charming rockstar, why not step up your shoe game as well?

How do you feel about the importance of footwear? Are there any shoes/brands we left out? Are there any on the list you really like, or would you like more suggestions? Drop a comment below, and share your own thoughts about men’s shoe styles!

The post How to Step Up Your Shoe Game (and Why It Matters) appeared first on The Art of Charm.

Putting aside the fact that the word makes me cringe — there’s just something smarmy and disingenuous about “working” to build genuine rapport — we all know that building a network is absolutely essential to being successful.

I get it. I’ve definitely found that the “it’s not what you know, it’s who you know,” principle holds true in most cases. But the truth is, I’ve spent the majority of the past year “networking” less than a Tibetan monk. I’ve ignored conferences, skipped networking events, and turned down enough event invitations to convince my friends I’ve moved away.

And yet the past year has been one of the most rewarding and extraordinary of my life.

It’s not that I’m afraid to reach out to people I don’t know. In fact, I have a list of people and companies I can’t wait to contact, and I have no qualms making cold calls or asking friends to make a connection. But I firmly believe this one principle of great networking:

Your connection is only valuable to the other party if you have something to offer of value.

Which means that “networking” as a concept is really made up of two totally different things: creating value and sharing value. Creating value is about building yourself and your projects. Sharing value is about connecting yourself and those projects to other people.

So at the heart of networking — and before networking can really begin — is the act of creating something. To be a good networker, you have to learn how to be a good builder first. So this phase of mine — of late nights and early mornings, of working and constantly saying no to distractions — is just that: A phase. An essential period of creating something of value, of making myself valuable.

I don’t want the outcome of my projects to be a whimper of an idea, a ripple of water against your feet as you casually stroll the ocean sand. I want to keep building and make a splash.

Which is why I think about networking and building a network as two different phases — not mutually exclusive, but certainly distinct, and often independent of each other.

Sometimes, you’re in pure networking mode.

For example, you might have the perfect amount of experience and education for your dream job, and the only thing stopping you from landing it is the right connections. Or, you might be somewhere in between, working full-time and developing yourself while juggling networking events and your list of contacts as you seek new opportunities.

Other times, you’re in pure building mode.

You want that dream job, but it’s in a field with a set of unique skills and accomplishments you haven’t mastered yet. So you’re teaching yourself finance or you’re learning to code or you’re practicing nonstop to become a killer guitarist. You’re teaching yourself to become the person you want to be by creating the value you want to offer.

It’s that building phase, independent of networking — let’s call it “selfworking” — that I’m finding myself in now. It’s a phase I don’t see discussed very often, but that I feel is equally important as meeting new people.

On one hand, I’m aware that even incredible work inside a vacuum is useless. On the other, I know that everybody has ideas and loves talking about them, and you’ll be taken far more seriously if you have something to show instead of something to tell.

If there’s an art to charm, then there’s a science to connection. One party gives and the other takes. So —

If you have nothing to offer, why should anyone listen to you?

A few weeks before starting my first real job as a management consultant, I stumbled across Never Eat Alone by Keith Ferrazzi, a superb book about the importance of organic networking. The book woke me up (though, given the building phase, I ironically now eat most meals alone these days). “I’m going to meet with one partner a week and get to know every senior manager in my office,” I told myself, a fresh-faced rookie, exuberant about building a network.

The first meeting was a disaster.

I can usually “wing it” when called upon, but I walked in to an important partner’s office without a plan and it was immediately obvious. I got a free pass because it was my first week, but I didn’t even demonstrate what I could or even wanted to offer. A typical baby analyst move: an urge to network before I had built.

The lesson stuck. If you’re meeting with someone who might open a door for you, you have to demonstrate why they should let you in. If you’re networking within your company, it might be as simple as putting together a list of your qualifications, areas of interest and previous experience, and being able to discuss how they apply to the projects you want.

But if you’re pitching a business, concept, or something as tangible as a screenplay, it will require some real dedication and discipline in creating a true product, not a half-baked or theoretical idea.

Remember: Creating allows you share. And sharing allows you to network.

Once you have something to offer — value, assistance, expertise, time, or a project that would interest other people — that is the moment they’ll listen to you. It’s simple and somewhat obvious, but it’s something I constantly have to remember when I feel the pressure to network while I’m still creating.

Because if you reach out too soon, you might be preemptively burning a bridge.

And if you do, then you’ll discover that networking at the wrong time might mean that you’re actually working against yourself! After all the effort of securing someone’s attention, the opportunity goes to waste once it becomes apparent that you’re not ready — that you haven’t done the work of building.

It’s like spending all your energy hustling your way onto Shark Tank, only to be slammed and dismissed for not thinking your business plan through. Or managing to pitch your favorite director on your screenplay, then having to admit that you haven’t written it yet.

No matter how well the relationship-building goes, it will always come back to the work.

But at some point, your building phase and your networking phase will overlap. A good builder will always require networking in order to continue building.

Think about building and selling a house. There will always be a limit to how far you can take your design and blueprint, at which point building the house on your own is unthinkable. So you network to find the right people to build, and you build together.

Once you finish, selling the house requires networking once again, to find the buyers and close the deal. The objective of this phase of networking is different: selling, not building. The value was created at the building phase and shared at the selling phase.

A corollary to that principle, however, is that we are always building. There’s never a magical moment when the building ends and the networking begins. It’s tempting to believe, but that’s just as dangerous as not building. I myself have been guilty of trying to make things perfect and missing opportunities to connect when what I have is good enough. Better to reach out than to never allow your work to see the light of day.

But what happens if you network before you’ve built enough?

The simple answer is this: Unless you say or do something egregious, a relationship — if it was created before your value was sufficiently developed — can almost always be rekindled in the future.

The person you talked to about an idea years ago might see your new business and think, “Oh, I remember you! You’re that guy that…” Not only is there a sense of familiarity, but you’ve demonstrated that you can follow through. It’s precisely then that the relationship can pay off.

So the principle always holds: You have to build in order to network. Sometimes you’ll find that you’ve networked before you built enough. Or, having shared your work with other people, you’ll learn that there’s more building to do. So you dive back into the building phase, which sets you up beautifully to move back into the networking phase, giving new meaning and relevance to those relationships.

These phases don’t compete; they connect. Our job is to move dynamically and authentically between the two.

If you build it, they will come

Before starting my online furniture business, I spent a lot of time blasting emails to retailers and designers, trying to determine my market and my strategy. I attended several conferences with hundreds of copies of a brochure that was outdated a month after I sent it to print. Most of my calls and emails went unanswered, and the few people I did connect with told me to circle back in the future.

I don’t know if this effort was wasted. Some of these connections might come to fruition. I do know that when I pitched a business with little more than a few products, a name, and a landing page, no one would listen. It was only when I hunkered down and got to work researching my market and defining my position that things started happening. I built my site, worked tirelessly to develop my brand, and people started reaching out to me. I also recognized when I reached the limits of my expertise or time, and reached out to find people to help me continue building, as needed.

There’s so much power in a strong network, but a strong network relies on your being powerful. If force = mass * acceleration, I see mass as your product (your value) and acceleration as networking (your relationships).

Both are equally important, but in a world where building a network gets celebrated as the most important activity —

Let’s not forget to build ourselves first.

The post Want to Build Your Network? First, Build Yourself appeared first on The Art of Charm.

“Be regular and orderly in your life, so that you may be violent and original in your work.”

Gustave Flaubert

I’m sure you’ve heard about the power of routine — or even the importance of routine — by now. Perhaps you read about Kurt Vonnegut’s daily routine, which involved rising early and daily trips to the local swimming pool. Or Hemingway, who wrote standing up, and always first thing in the morning.

Not to put myself on the same level as the greats, but I’ve developed a very idiosyncratic routine myself. One that settles me into the day and allows me to work on a variety of creative projects at a time. It’s also a routine that many people find hard to comprehend. Because it’s so repetitive.

And delicious.

In short: My name is Yoni, and I eat two Chipotle bowls a day. I go every day at lunchtime and order two to go. I eat one when I get home and warm one up later for (my first) dinner.

When I tell people this, I usually get a lot of questions, ranging from from “Isn’t that unhealthy?” to “Don’t you eat anywhere else?” My favorite, though, is: “Are you crazy?”

Good question. Am I?

Probably. But crazy is relative. I eat Chipotle twice a day because it’s delicious, it’s fast, it’s filling, and it’s relatively healthy and inexpensive. More importantly, I’m working on so many projects I enjoy right now — projects that are challenging and ambiguous and time-intensive — that I need some structure in my daily life. Not having to worry about deciding the majority of my meals, while still enjoying them and knowing what I’m going to expect, means that I can spend my energy in other, more productive ways.

So yes, you might think I’m crazy for eating the same thing twice a day, every day.

But, as someone who eats 4-5 meals a day, I think it’s crazy how much time and effort would potentially be spent if I had to worry about preparing most of those meals or trying out a new place every day. “Lunch” might seem like a minor decision, but if you’re unfamiliar with the place, one simple choice is actually comprised of several more demanding ones.

First you research and wonder if the Yelp reviews are really real. Then you decide, order, wait, pick up, and either stay there or head home. If you don’t like your order, or you find yourself asking, “Why am I still hungry 45 minutes after eating that $15 deconstructed organic beet and kale salad?” then there’s even more work to do.

I also cook — breakfast (eggs) and second dinner (fish) — and I do go out and meet friends for (a third) dinner a few days a week. I’m talking here about my core working hours, when the time and effort I would use to decide what to order or make could be going into new product design for my business, writing new content, or practicing the drums and working on a video.

The real reason I eat Chipotle so frequently, though, is that the process and the act have become the cornerstone of my new career as a creative entrepreneur. My borderline addiction is less about sustenance than it is about the importance of routine.

Although I definitely recommend the burrito bowl diet, I don’t think your Two Bowls A Day needs to necessarily be about food. I’m not just talking about lunch or dinner. I’m talking about how you anchor your routine around something by eliminating unnecessary choices to consume and shift mental and physical energy toward the projects that truly deserve them.

Defining the importance of routine

So why are routines so important?

There are many obvious reasons for having a routine. Routines give you power over your day. Routines provide stability and channel your energy. Routines maintain forward motion and allow you to build on something every day, as opposed to constantly starting over.

But when defining the importance of routine, I think it’s actually more interesting to ask the question in reverse. What happens when you don’t have a routine?

Until a couple years ago, I worked as a management consultant, a job that required constant travel and crazy schedules. I did my best, but could never stick to one workout plan without a consistent gym or predictable times and days to work out. My diet was irregular and often extremely unhealthy. I didn’t sleep well, and I got sick often. On every creative thing I started — another blog I used to write, for example — I didn’t follow through.

There were other reasons for my lack of productivity and discipline back then, but not having a consistent routine was the root cause. Without it, I didn’t really feel like I was in control of my life. I loved the travel aspect of that job, and I wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything, but I was always at the whim of my company.

Not my own.

Finding your daily routine

We’re all working on different things, in different places, at different times. My current situation is fairly unique in that I work primarily from home and, though I interact with people all day by phone and email, spend a lot of time alone. I don’t mind that at all — in fact, coming from a job where every single project was team-based and client-facing, I rather enjoy it.

And every day brings a new challenge. Starting and running your own business means constantly learning, thinking, and acting. Product design, copywriting, marketing, sales, business development — I love it all, but it also takes a great deal of creative, mental, and physical energy. I can’t afford to be slowed down, if I can help it.

At the most fundamental level, food is fuel. Caramelized, sautéed, glazed, or reduced, it’s all — my apologies for being reductive here — going to the same place. I enjoy great meals and the social value of sharing meals with people, of course, but in my Chipotle routine —

I’ve found what works for me.

Which I think is the most important part of a routine. Realizing that everyone is different and operates differently, and that what is most efficient and enjoyable for one person might not be the most ideal for another. That’s the beauty of routine: It’s a general strategy that is highly personal.

Which is why I love reading about the daily routines and habits of successful people, from artists to executives. They are wildly different from one another but similar in one essential way — they work. And they work specifically for the person who developed them, for reasons most likely inapplicable to me or you.

Routine as structure, life as improvisation

A few days ago, while practicing jazz drumming, I thought of a metaphor.

The first thing you learn as a jazz drummer is the importance of keeping time. Specifically, the tah, tah, tuh-tah, tah, tuh-tah pattern on the ride cymbal and the strong “chick” of the hi-hat on beats two and four. As you progress, you learn to incorporate improvisational patterns with the bass drum and snare drum, feeding off the other musicians you play with.

The ride and the hi-hat are life’s routine — the structure over which we can then improvise.

Without the backbeat, the consistent layer, everything seems to fall apart. When the rhythm section is keeping time, the horns can wail and improvise and the pianist can jam away. (Purists will mention that structure is far less defined within sub-genres in jazz, but this is one of those “learn the rules before you break them” things.) To develop a solid foundation, you start with just that — a foundation. Then build on the foundation. A strong foundation is malleable and adaptive.

Routines are our foundation.

Chipotle is my two and four. My foundation. The pillar of my routine.

So tell me: What are your two Chipotle bowls?

(And Chipotle — if you’re reading this — please contact me regarding Yoni Dina: The Guacumentary when you have a chance.)

The post 2 Chipotle Bowls a Day: The (Delicious) Power of Routine appeared first on The Art of Charm.

Tomorrow, right?

Imagine a 350 pound MMA fighter, legs of steel, wearing steel-toe boots. Now imagine a swift kick in the ass from him, knocking away your excuses and rationalizations for not working on your project. Then, imagine him holding out his hand, helping you up from your fall, and — having utterly destroyed your bullshit — telling you to go back into the world and make something extraordinary.

Whether that project is entrepreneurial, artistic, humanitarian, or just a simple tweak to your work habits, that’s what reading The War of Art feels like. And that’s why it’s the perfect book to start off the new year.

First, let me preface this book review/personal reflection with a few things:

1. No book, movie, TED talk, audiobook, or YouTube video containing clips from The Pursuit of Happyness is going to change your life. Motivational media might set the wheels in motion, but you, and only you, have the ability to make a decision to sit down and follow through on something. You just need to stop making excuses and start taking action.
2. If you are an unabashed cynic like me, you probably perceive most “self-help” literature as a scam. The only person who really succeeds is the author, who sells thousands of copies of a book full of clichés. Let’s just call that out right now.
3. The War of Art is less than 160 pages, and many of these pages are less than half-full (or, more than half-empty, but — New Year — let’s be positive, right?). It’s likely that this book will be more portable than the iPhone 8 Plus. Your immediate impression might be: Am I really going to get my money’s worth? Or, why didn’t I pack something else to read for this trans-Atlantic flight?

Given all that, why would I recommend this book so enthusiastically?

It’s a fair question, and one that deserves a quick personal history…

Stumbling into the War

We could not be any more different.

I’m the son of conservative immigrant parents, ingrained with the values of formal education, structured work, and a steady job. She’s the daughter of a prominent contemporary artist and a yoga teacher, raised in what in what could conservatively be called a “bohemian” household.

We met up in New York City a few years ago, when I was slaving away as a management consultant. Over dinner, I complained to her about my job — the brutal hours, the creative frustration — and she talked about the fun, exciting, creative projects she was working on.

“You know what you should read?” she asked. It was the first time I had heard of The War of Art. According to her, “you’re suffering from blocks,” which sounded less like something I actually had and more like a disease passed around by promiscuous LEGO characters.

I brushed off the suggestion, and we hung out the rest of the night before parting ways for months, like we always did. I loved these nights out – I felt like Don Draper visiting California, discovering a new world beyond the monotony of the corporate grind. Her friends would sit on street corners and smoke cigarettes in their genuinely ripped up t-shirts, while I would stand there talking music and literature with them, arms awkwardly folded in my tailored dress shirts. I felt like a corporate tool, but with another, more interesting side to me, a side that was dormant and shut down and frustrated.

“Nothing to lose, right?” I thought as I bought the book online back at the hotel. I arrived home to Chicago a few days later to find a box waiting at my doorstep. “So this is going to change my life,” I thought, opening up an is-this-really-necessary large Amazon Prime box to find an are-you-kidding sized book.

I got in bed one chilly Saturday afternoon and read it all in one shot. I couldn’t put the book down. Something on every page resonated deep inside. When I finished, I felt like I had just saved thousands in dollars in therapy and commissioned a psychologist to write a personal field manual.

That was the first step.

Part 1: Defining the Enemy

“Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within us. Between the two stands Resistance.” (Pressfield, 1)

Pressfield spends 52 pages on what he calls “Resistance,” with a capital R.

These are a number of thoughts and behaviors that are lumped together as the universal force that holds us back and keeps us from working and creating. There’s nothing earth shattering here, but by using his own anecdotes and imagining real-world applications, he has a way of bringing the phenomenon of Resistance to life. Every page left me thinking about the ways in which I encounter Resistance and the excuses I tell myself to avoid working on the things that mean the most to me.

But Pressfield isn’t just talking about “Art.” He’s talking about the Resistance we all experience, in one way or another, when we consider pursuing, as he puts it, “any action that rejects immediate gratification in favor of long-term growth, health, or integrity.” Working out, dieting, or even something as simple and prosaic as committing to growing a beard – these are the kinds of things we feel in our heart we can do, but become our own worst enemies when given the actual opportunity.

Everything in my life was perfectly comfortable before I found this book — or, more accurately, when it found me — but I knew there were creative desires I had suppressed. I’ve always enjoyed writing, but was afraid to put myself out there, doubting whether I could connect with an audience. I’ve played the drums since I was 11 — in fact, it was the one thing in my life I could do for hours without noticing a minute had gone by — but I had relegated it to a “hobby to pick up again later in life.”

I realized that these were two seductive and powerful forms of Resistance.

So now that we’ve identified some of the reasons why we don’t work, how can we get ourselves to overcome them?

Part 2: Turning Pro

“The professional shuts up. She doesn’t talk about it. She does her work.” (Pressfield, 78)

If the first section of the book was a gentle push into thought, the second is a full-blown shove into action. According to Pressfield, what separates those who succumb to Resistance and those who battle it head-on is the distinction between the amateur and the professional.

Put simply, the amateur talks about it while the professional does it.

The amateur screenwriter has a brilliant idea, one his friends have heard about for years but have never actually seen. Meanwhile, the professional screenwriter is behind the computer, writing screenplay after screenplay, treating the craft with love, but like it’s his job. It might be bad screenplay after bad screenplay, but 90% of something is better than 100% of nothing.

Bottom line: An amateur fantasizes. A professional gets to work.

Once again, this chapter revealed my own habits. Ever since college, once I was no longer “required” to write or was not in an organized musical group, I had treated my creative endeavors like an amateur. I rarely wrote or practiced, never holding myself to a schedule or laying out any goals.

Beyond basic habits, the book forced me to reassess the entire paradigm upon which I’ve conceived “art” as a part of “normal life.” Simply put, I thought of art as an indulgence, a hobby, a nice-to-have, and sometimes even a distraction. It never occurred to me that art — meaning any act of personal creation — could actually be a real part of my everyday existence.

How many of us are led to believe that once you graduate college, the fun is over, and real life begins? We convince ourselves into suppressing our creative aspirations in order to focus on the 9 to 5, the savings account, the IRA, the spouse, and the family.

Now, I’m not advocating for you to quit your job, divorce your wife, and move to Paris with a stock of canvases and acrylic paint to become the next Monet (although it’s not far from what I ended up doing — but that’s for another time.) What I came to realize is that if we treat art and creativity as we would treat any profession, with the same amount of tenacity and participation, it isn’t crazy to discover that we can be successful.

It might just start out as a “side-hustle.” It might just mean an hour of writing instead of an hour of Netflix reruns. It might mean turning a Sunday afternoon of football and overeating into a workout or hike.

But the idea of “becoming a professional” means turning tomorrow into today.

I knew that if I wanted to succeed in the fields that really mattered to me, it was time to stop making excuses and get to work.

Part 3: Higher Realm

“There is magic to effacing our human arrogance and humbly entreating help from a source we cannot see, hear, touch, or smell.” (Pressfield 119)

In the last section, Pressfield examines a much the more existential aspect of creativity ranging from the relationship between the Ego and Self to his invocation of spirits and prayers. I’ll be honest — here’s where I lost Pressfield a little. (The only spirits I believe in are tequila and whiskey.)

I had trouble identifying with parts of this section the first time around. After working so hard to prove that our ability to create comes from within, Pressfield seems to contradict himself by looking to external factors for motivation. Although I can respect his opinion that religious and spiritual forces “guide” our creative magic, it just wasn’t one I could reconcile with my personal beliefs.

But the beauty of the book is that Pressfield encourages you to interpret things in your own way. And while the first time I read this section I was skeptical, I now find myself discovering new meanings. To me, it’s not a “spirit” that drives us to work, but a force of ambition, satisfaction, and pride that recognizes progress and motivates us to keep working.

I first read this at 23 years old, at a time in my life when my job would soon require me to make a very serious commitment (2 years of business school + 2 years back at the job, or a lifetime of debt). My friends were beginning to get engaged and settle down and every external force in my life seemed to point towards choosing a path of stability.

And yet all I could think was,  “I’m just getting started.” I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t take the risks I had been considering for years, but I also dreaded the possibility of failure and the uncertainties that come with it, which seemed daunting in contrast to the stable  path I was on.

I’m still conquering the war of art, knee-deep in the trenches. But I do know that as I’ve progressed from treating my creativity like an amateur to working at it like a professional, I continue to remove my Ego from the equation. I’m less concerned about what people think of me and what I’m doing and more driven by knowing that my Self is doing what is most natural.

A Plan of Attack

I’m writing this in early 2015, more than three years since reading the book for the first time. I say “first time,” because I revisit the book every few months, finding new experiences to relate to, new ways Resistance has manifested itself, and new reasons to continue being a professional to achieve my goals. The journey is endless.

But I can point to real progress. Since reading the book, I’ve started a business, several websites, and rededicated myself to music. In a few weeks, I’ll be launching a site that combines nearly everything I’ve learned, practiced, and experienced into one project. It might fail in the traditional sense, but I’m not worried about that right now.

Because while I’m not yet where I want to be, I’m finally doing what I want to do. And more importantly, I am becoming who I want to be by working how I should have been working all along. Resistance still gets me every day – I still have insidious thoughts and often doubt myself. But I know that I’m doing what I love, what drives me. And I show up every day, putting in my hours – to my writing, to my business, to my music – because there’s progress even in the bad hours, and every hour counts.

I still believe that no one book can change your life, but The War of Art was a keystone that tied together a web of disparate thoughts into action. And for that reason, I can confidently say that it kicked my ass. And I hope it kicks yours too.

As Pressfield reminds us…

“Don’t cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you’ve got.” (Pressfield 165)

So stop making excuses and make it happen.

The post The War of Art: The One Book That Kicked My Ass Into Doing More (And Will Kick Yours Too) appeared first on The Art of Charm.