I have lots of ideas. I have lists and lists of creative projects, and these lists grow regularly, sometimes in singular items, sometimes by dozens of inter-related projects. I love my brain. I love the things that it comes up with, I love the process of sorting these ideas into things that can become tangible projects. I love my ideas.
I’m here to tell you that my ideas don’t mean anything. Your ideas don’t mean anything.
It’s great to have ideas, but the only thing that means anything when it comes to them is what you do with them.
I know plenty of brilliant people, bubbling to the point of overflow with ideas, concepts, little tidbits. Ideas for plays, books, artworks, exhibitions, shows, businesses, apps and world changing enterprises. I only know a handful that do anything about it.
And it’s those people, dear reader, who do things that matter. An idea that was followed through and failed means more, and is worth more than a one line note in a sketchbook. You’re not a writer until you write. You’re not an artist until you make art. You’re not an entrepreneur until you start a business and work at it.
Those things take time, blood, sweat, tears and the risk of rejection. It’s much easier to have the satisfaction of having an idea and then not needing to see it through.
Until you see everyone else living the life that you wanted as a result of them seeing their ideas through. You think “I had that idea first” or “I could have done that!”
But you didn’t.
Now go get your notebook and get some shit done.