Mr. Edutainment (Adam Fairhead) writes daily notes (since 2017) about making and marketing your ideas, creativity, storytelling, and leading a creative-led business for over 20 years. Artist and family man at heart.
I write every day because its a workout for my “idea muscle”.
I use that “idea muscle” every day in my innovation work, artwork, and teamwork.
It means I can sit with a paper notebook and blast out good ideas any day I like.
This muscle would get weaker if I “generated” ideas instead of “had” ideas.
I don’t want that muscle to get weaker. So I don’t “generate” ideas.
The best part is, the ideas available to me aren’t median, “most likely to be accepted” ideas, like what an LLM will propose.
They can be reckless, wild and free, for right-sizing to an opportunity by my own hands and thoughts.
It’s not the first time I’ve recommended you write every day.
And it won’t be the last, either.
Train that muscle. It can be better, for you, than even the superintelligent computer in the cloud you may have been tempted by.
I was reading a vintage comic today, admiring the artwork, and noticed something that has been lost today.
All done by hand, of course. Every graphic by hand, as there was no other way at the time.
I noticed, in a large, full-page scene, in one corner… what looked like two alcohol markers smudging together.
A blue, and a red, over-painted, resulting in green that didn’t belong there.
But it’s still there.
The scene had been beautifully drawn. And inked. And coloured. That last little detail. Green.
A modern colourist would erase the overdrawn colour. Cmd+Z. No green.
But that smudge of green adds to the scene. A reminder that a human sat there, with alcohol markers, colouring the whole scene by hand.
The result feels even more magical. More intoxicating. Like you could stare at it for hours, feeling the moment where someone worked hard on creating such beautiful artwork.
I think we need more smudges.
More little mistakes retained. Brush strokes that were drawn twice to get the right shape. Colours that bleed just a little in places.
More humanity. More connection to the effort that went into the work.
Don’t Cmd+Z the connection away.
The PHP exploit this week has caused madness among tech.
The PHP Foundation fixed the exploit the same day it became public. Hours, not days. These are people who know their stuff, and took care of it.
All the rest of the world needed to do was update their package manager and run a minor, non-breaking upgrade to patch the exploit.
My team did this for multiple companies — as an act of camaraderie, not a paid service — the same day, because it doesn’t take long and we value their online safety. It was the right thing to do, as people who know how.
But many still haven’t acted. Many in positions of authority over the safety of brands had no idea what to do. A leading voice in UK cybersec even said, on TV, that he’d never even heard of PHP before.
This is what happens when people phone in their skills and don’t care enough to continually invest in their craft, in painting the back of the fence, and keeping things simple enough that safety doesn’t feel so complex.
Keep things simple. Invest in your craft. Do the right thing. It costs you nothing, but gives society everything.
Not least of all because so few seem to be doing it these days.
Interesting thought exercise in the car this week.
I asked my wife, if you received a home-made greetings card, would that make you feel more or less special than a printed card from the card shop?
The answer, perhaps unsurprisingly, was, “Much more”.
I then asked, if that home-made greetings card was generated rather than done by hand, does that influence the choice?
“Much less, it’d suggest they didn’t want to spend their money OR their time.”
As ease, reduction of effort, and increased productivity become celebrated as “features” of an AI-saturated environment, many are quick to forget that effort is in many cases a feature, not a bug.
As many people move to make less effort in their duties, the value of effort is increasing. Good news, for those who like to make an effort.
If you want different ideas to everyone else…
And you’re generating ideas from the same source everyone else uses…
Consider whether that’s a predictable path to different ideas.
Or if your unique experiences, perspective, opinions, and vision for the future, might be better matched up with a paper notebook, a cup of tea, and a free, screen-free hour.
If everyone is racing to create more “content” as quickly as possible…
To create as many “pieces of content” a day as they can…
Generating and marginalizing their voice in the name of volume…
And that sounds like a race to the bottom you’d be afraid to win…
…Consider whether you want to get in that race at all.
I’ve chatted with a few folks this week with an interesting problem.
They’re vibecoding a lot of things, telling me how productive they are, how many things they’ve made.
But when asked what their focus is, the answer is less clear.
And when asked how much of their week is spent on that focus, the answer is murkier still.
Making things, when hard, is a wonderful exercise in focus. If you shouldn’t make it, you don’t. If it’s a “not for right now thing”, you don’t. If it’s not in line with your current relentlessly-focused priority list, you don’t. And “don’t” is better than half-making lots of things that didn’t benefit from your focus, care, commitment, and voice. “But I need to use my token allowance” isn’t a good trade for focus.
And when things should be made? It’s a “right now thing”? It’s in-focus? It being hard doesn’t even matter: you do it anyway. With focus, care, commitment, and your voice.
You’ve always been able to do whatever you want. The tokens aren’t what’s worth stewarding… Your focus is.
I have toys from my childhood on display in my home.
I’m not 4 anymore. But my son will be soon, and I want the same childlike wonder, optimism, and can-do attitude that 4 year olds have, even as I approach 40.
Getting old isn’t about numbers, it’s about how we interact with the world around us.
And as someone who creates worlds, characters, stories and growth experiences, it’s really important that I don’t “get old”.
So I won’t.
And you don’t have to, either, if you don’t want to.
It’s strange.
After years of wishing there was a one-time purchase version of Adobe Lightroom… a bunch of open-source alternatives have popped up over the past month, free, with largely comparable quality.
The weird thing is, I still pay for — and use — Lightroom.
It revealed something I hadn’t really thought about until the alternative showed up: the software isn’t the whole product.
The software is part of the product. The other part is the 43 years Adobe has been in business, assuring me they’ll still be around tomorrow. Another part is in knowing they’re financially incentivized to keep going with the product, and so it will likely still be supported tomorrow, like it is today.
The free vibecoded alternative that does most of what I need out of an app I use as a hobbyist, seems pretty good… but I don’t know if it’ll still be supported tomorrow. I don’t know if it’ll receive care ongoing, by photographers as well as just LLM nerds. I don’t know if the bugs will be worked out, or if a breaking change will download one day that damages my library or, worse, my photos. There’s no way to know, not today.
The solution for Adobe is to stand by its pedigree, and rebuild its reputation with creatives, so that they’re glad to align with the brand again. The software isn’t the whole product, and there’s an open goal for them here.
The solution for the new open-source alternatives is to stand by its software, and demonstrate a level of care and commitment that goes far beyond the typical “slop” narrative. Relationship-wise, there’s an open goal here until (or if) Adobe makes a move.
Sadly, it seems more likely that Adobe won’t make that move.
But it’s nevertheless interesting to see: the software isn’t the whole product. It never was. And as software becomes cheaper, it still isn’t. And it likely never will be.
It taking a long time to make doesn’t automatically make your work better.
It taking a lot of people doesn’t automatically make your work better.
It taking a weekend or a late night doesn’t automatically make your work better.
If the time results in something more special, more rare, in a way customers can appreciate, then sure. But more time doesn’t mean mo’ better. More people can often make something worse, not better. And late night work is more likely to be an indicator of poor planning than of great work.
Focus on the output — the great, high-quality work. Let the inputs be guided by that, not defined by it.
Picking up my son from nursery is one of the very best parts of my day.
I’m always (always) the first to get there, and first in line.
What fascinates me is, every other parent has their noses buried in their phones.
The kids wander up to the glass window waving to their parents, and not one of them wave back.
You see their faces light up when they see their Mum or Dad, only for it to fade, with a wave that slows to a standstill, as they see no reaction at all.
It makes me think: there are moments of beauty and generosity around us all the time, every day. People just miss most of them because they’re too busy being busy.
I could have a stack of emails and “stuff” to get back to 10X longer than theirs, waiting for me to review or speak to.
But if we live by the wave of “stuff”, rather than by waves of beauty and generosity, how can we create anything great?
True of a business, project, or relationship with your son.
Planes fly themselves. But having a pilot is still important, to make sure everything’s OK, for the times when it’s not.
AI can write code without you knowing the frameworks or languages it uses. But knowing those frameworks and languages is still important, to make sure everything’s OK, for the times when it’s not.
Because the last thing you — or Airbus — want, is to put your name against a pistol that shoots backwards 5% of the time.
You can “get more SEO” if you trade a few quality thought pieces for a sausage-factory of slop.
You can “get more clicks” if you become less discerning about the quality of the collabs you push on your followers.
You can “get more views” if you trade an honest voice with sensationalism.
But it comes at the cost of a reputation that means anything to anyone, compared to sticking to quality, and allowing it pay off each time someone is so amazed with what you do that they can’t help but tell the others.
Not many take the reputation path, despite it being the best long-term path. Turns out it’s both better and easier, then.
We want to see the backstory behind your brand.
We want to see what you stand for, and what you stand against.
We want to know what you’ll always do, and never do.
We want to know what annoys you about your industry.
We want to know what you’re working on, that you know could be better.
These things all matter, when we consider buying from you.
It tells us more about your product, and endears us to your brand, more than you realize.
If machines write your copy,
and machines design your pages,
and machines write your code,
and machines generate your images,
adn machines build your products,
and machines answer your phone,
and machines handle your emails,
and machines have your ideas,
and machines run your reports,
and machines run support,
and machines plan your future,
and you sit watching them do it,
Remind us why we should pay you?
Teenage Engineering, a company that makes synths, announced they’re no longer making synths.
They said the products aren’t the company.
“Then what IS the company?!” cried many.
A company is a group of people.
A brand is a story with a host.
A product is an expression of that story, by that group of people.
When a company says the products aren’t the company… they’re right.
A company doesn’t even need products to be profitable (though they certainly help).
Great example of how the rules aren’t set in stone, it’ll be interesting to watch what they do next.
Think about all of your competitors.
Now factor in…
Most don’t care like you do.
Most won’t reach out for new business.
Most aren’t practicing very much.
Most don’t get back to leads very fast.
Most don’t have great people skills.
Most aren’t actually good at what they do.
Most have no process nor structure, and it shows.
Most bail at the first sign of trouble.
How many competitors are left?
Not that many.
The world’s smaller than you think.
There’s plenty of room for you. Plenty.
Stop worrying about how much your tools cost.
Worry about what you can make with them.
From what I see in many creatives and how they spend their time: If they spent half the time they spent evaluating tech and other tooling, and instead poured that time back into their craft, they may find the tools they have will have earned their keep twice over, and their output would increase dramatically.
Less shopping. More shipping.
Agonizing over details gets a bad reputation.
Unduly so, I think.
I agonize over details all the time.
Once keys systems are operational…
Once everyone’s unblocked and moving…
Once the priorities are clearly understood…
I agonize.
I agonize over key art, so it looks exactly right.
I agonize over words, so they sound and feel right.
I agonize over characters and their personalities.
I agonize over layouts, type, and brand voice.
Why agonize, when good is usually good enough?
Because it matters. Because I care. And that’s rare these days.
Skipping out of care is skipping out on a rarity that makes your work special… providing you keep shipping.
Care is usually only found among the excellent, and those who never ship anything.
Just be careful to end up in the right camp.
I write a lot of recaps.
Recaps for teams to run a project forward based on my vision.
Recaps for stakeholders to see how far we’ve come.
Recaps for partnerships to see what’s on the horizon.
AI’s good at recaps. But when I use AI to help with recaps, doing recaps on my own becomes slower. I don’t subconsiously hold onto the same details I otherwise would. I don’t feel the shape of the work in my mind. I don’t remember the things that happened. Because if a machine is doing it for me, the brain says, “why bother, then?”
The problem worsens. Now, I don’t see the details. I don’t guide the work well because I don’t see the shape anymore. I forget things.
Ick.
This is why I continue to write my own recaps.
Not because the machine can’t.
Because I can’t, when it can.
I’d prefer to know the shape of my work and guide it to great places, and have to write things up periodically, than save a few minutes at the expense of my best work.
Several Photoshop and Lightroom clones are circulating online at the moment.
They recreate most of what those apps do, for free, offline.
Some are downloading and using them.
Others see it and think, “No, I’d rather pay.”
Why is this?
Because some people don’t just want a free alternative to the monthly grind of Adobe’s Creative Cloud.
They want a viable, long-term alternative.
One that has humans that will stand by the product for a long time, stewarding the project, fixing the bugs, and ensuring it remains a reliable, responsible choice both now and long into the future.
It turns out, software isn’t going to zero… because the software itself wasn’t the whole product.
The software plus the commitment from people who care… that’s the product. And care is still rare.
When you’re at your desk, and you’re about to pick up your phone…
Stop.
What is the thing you were about to do, that led you to reach for the magic box?
There’s friction there.
You’re either about to do something you’re afraid of, tired of, too tired for, or shouldn’t be doing.
Be brave. Get a glass of water. Decide if it’s your work or not. If it is, proceed.
This is the work.
If AI can generate a video of your exact likeness, lip syncing to your exact audio track, why bother getting a camera out and doing it “for real”?
Some argue: no reason at all. It slows you down, looks less polished, costs more money, for no obvious benefit.
Others argue: Because we feel the difference. When we notice, we move on, feeling cheated. That “hoping people don’t notice” is precisely the type of thing that dissolves brand equity.
Most agree it’s an argument about whether AI is good or bad.
It’s not, at all. It’s actually an argument about whether telling the truth is good or bad.
That’s an argument that should be much easier to pick a side on.
Some brands are built for everyone. To service everyone, appeal to everyone, to be “a household name”.
Others ask who they’re building for, servicing, appealing to, “whose household?”
Which is your work aimed at?
Two paths, polar opposites, both viable:
Mine a lead list as quickly and forcefully as you can, extract as much as you can, until you need to move onto the next list.
Nourish a market as patiently and generously as you can, invest as much as you can, until they would buy from no one else.
Makes no sense to judge your path by the fruits of the other’s.
They’re completely incomparible.
When you choose one, don’t even think about the other. Their data, inputs and results aren’t for you.
How do you have an idea to share every single day and publish it?
Step 1: Think about your craft every day, enough that you can formulate the thought in words.
Step 2: Have a place you can push “Publish” easily.
There is no Step 3. It’s that simple.
I hope you’ll do it too. I’d love to read it.
Today, someone described my spending habits as “abundant creativity”.
And I learned “what is easy to spend” for yourself is an indicator of what you prioritize in yourself.
Thought that was interesting.
I’d rather pay artists to create, than Apple for a phone. I’d rather pay for 10 cheap notebooks I can hash idea through abundantly, than 1 fancy one that demands every page be a polished idea. I’d rather pay for an amazing screen tablet people sometimes deem ‘expensive’ only because they upgrade their smartphones so frequently (I’m spending less!) I’d rather pay for a NAS to store all of my ideas, than for subscription services to rent all of someone else’s. I’d rather have piles of creative journals, books, and magazines all over my office to peruse in free moments, than pick up a phone to doomscroll “for free”.
It was pointed out to me that these were all very coherent things. And it made me think… what a fascinating thought exercise that is.
What is “easy to spend” for you, and what does that tell you about yourself?
Is it “easy to spend” on your business, on avant garde ideas, on great creativity and customer experiences?
Is it “easy to spend” on your craft, on advancing your skills, on creating more than you thought you could?
Or is it “easy to spend” on consumption devices, to numb out from the world, or at least be forever tempted to do so?
Artists have long had a choice: content-factory production, or original, provenential creativity.
Some introduce the AI conversation as a destruction of art. And it’s true… for the first option.
But was that option “art” to begin with?
And given that, does that actually distinguish the difference even moreso than ever before, elevating the second option with even more meaning and connection? An opportunity to see those who commission such pieces as brands of culture, heart, reelvance, and depth?
Could the change actually be making the second option more desirable for those who understand what’s really going on, the role artwork has always played between people, or people and brands?
Could the change mean artists are spared those who didn’t take the time to understand, preferring to ignorantly marginalize themselves to save a few dollars, unaware of how they signal that to customers daily, and that such decisions don’t go unnoticed?
Artists have long had a choice. Many say there’s never been a worse time to create art. I’d argue there’s never been a better one.
If you want to create and spread your ideas, but most people don’t want what you want…
Then why do as they do?
If they all use a certain phone. Spend their evenings in a certain way. Go to certain places. Think certain things are cool while others are not. Wear certain styles. Listen to certain bands…
If all of their inputs equal an output you don’t want…
…Why worry, even for a second, about doing as they do, buying what they buy, listening to what they listen to, or thinking as they think?
Welcome to weirdtown. You’ll be happy here.
I’ve written before about making your six-year-old self proud.
And I (re)discovered another way to connect with him lately, that has been really engaging me.
Early-nineties toys.
When they arrive in the mail, and you see toys (sometimes with original packaging) that you loved when you were little, it brings back the same rush of emotions you felt back then, mixed with a little nostalgia and longing.
The emotions are the important part. They’re like bookmarks in your brain, tapping into parts of your mind you may not otherwise have stumbled upon.
I’ve been enjoying reconnecting with parts of little-me I’d forgotten all about.
If you liked who you were as a kid — before the weight of the world and its toil and trouble — consider picking up a few relics of the past. See if you don’t learn something along the way.
I create a newsletter called GrowthCandy. Each issue shares one idea to help build and spread your work, delivered as a short comic. Fast to read. Easy to apply. Hard to forget!