Whatcha Gonna Do With That Duck?: And Other Provocations, 2006-2012 Read Online Free PDF Page B

it’s more fun not to be. Paying forward when there’s no hope of tangible reward. Doing the right thing. You’ve heard these things a hundred times before, of course, but I guess it’s easier to bet on luck.
    If people aren’t betting on luck, then why do we make so many dumb choices? Why aren’t useful books selling at fifty times the rate they sell now? Why does anyone, ever, watch reality TV shows? Why do people do such dumb stuff with their money?
    I think we’ve been tricked by the veneer of lucky people on the top of the heap. We see the folks who manage to skate by, or who get so much more than we think they deserve, and it’s easy to forget that:
A. these guys are the exceptions,
    and
    B. there’s nothing you can do about it anyway.
    And that’s the key to the paradox of effort: while luck may be more appealing than effort, you don’t get to choose luck. Effort, on the other hand, is totally available, all the time.
    This is a hard sell. Diet books that say “eat less, exercise more” may work, but they don’t sell many copies.
    With that forewarning, here’s a bootstrapper’s/marketer’s/entrepreneur’s/fast-rising executive’s effort diet. Go through the list and decide whether each item is worth it. Or make up your own diet. Effort is a choice, so at least make it on purpose:
Delete 120 minutes a day of “spare time” from your life. This can include watching TV, reading the newspaper, commuting, wasting time in social networks, and going to meetings. Up to you.
Spend the 120 minutes doing this instead:
Exercise for 30 minutes.
Read relevant nonfiction (trade magazines, journals, business books, blogs, etc.).
Send three thank-you notes.
Learn new digital techniques (spreadsheet macros, Firefox shortcuts, productivity tools, graphic design, HTML coding).
Volunteer.
Blog for five minutes about something you learned.
Give a speech once a month about something you don’t currently know a lot about.
Spend at least one weekend day doing absolutely nothing but being with people you love.
For one year, spend money on only the things you absolutely need to get by. Save the rest of your money, relentlessly.
    If you somehow pulled this off, then six months from now, you would be the fittest, best-rested, most intelligent, best-funded, and most motivated person in your office or your field. You would know how to do things that other people don’t, you’d have a wider network, and you’d be more focused.
    It’s entirely possible that this effort won’t be sufficient and you will continue to need better luck. But it’s a lot more likely that you’ll get lucky, I bet.
Maybe You Can’t Make Money Doing What You Love
    The thing is, it’s far easier than ever before to surface your ideas. Far easier to have someone notice your art or your writing or your photography. Which means that people who might have hidden their talents are now finding them noticed.
    That blog you’ve built, the one with a lot of traffic … perhaps it can’t be monetized.
    That nonprofit you work with, the one where you are able to change lives … perhaps turning it into a career will ruin it.
    That passion you have for art … perhaps making your painting commercial enough to sell will squeeze the joy out of it.
    When what you do is what you love, you’re able to invest more effort and care and time. That means you’re more likely to win, to gain share, toprofit. On the other hand, poets don’t get paid. Even worse, poets that try to get paid end up writing jingles and failing and hating it at the same time.
    Today, there are more ways than ever to share your talents and hobbies in public. And if you’re driven, talented, and focused, you may discover that the market loves what you do. That people read your blog or click on your cartoons or listen to your MP3s. But, alas, that doesn’t mean you can monetize it, quit your day job, and spend all day writing songs.
    The pitfalls:
         1. In order to monetize your