All creativity begins with the moment of conception.

That little piece of kindling that gets the fire going. That initial source of inspiration that takes on a life of its own. That single note from which the entire symphony grows. That single spark of life that signals an idea’s movement value, almost screaming to us, something wants to be built here.

And so, in this new blog series, I’m going to be deconstructing my favorite moments of conception from popular movies. Each post will contain a video clip from a different film, along with a series of lessons we can learn from the characters.

Today’s clip comes from the village scene from Romancing the Stone:

What can we learn?

Keep adding to the
collection. When you build a brand from the inside out, the market targets
you. By creating enough good in the marketplace, you become the bullseye
instead of the arrow. It’s a simple formula. The volume of daily output,
multiplied by originality of brand voice, divided by time, raised to the power
of consistency, equalsnew opportunities that find you through
the attraction of working.It’sreverse
target marketing, and it can only be created through incremental creative
action. Let’s use the example of an graphic illustrator. She spends two hours a
day, just drawing. Expanding her portfolio. Adding energy to the system.
Staying with herself as the world orbits around her. Because she trusts that
each time a new piece is published and added to her body of work, that’s one
more brick in her foundation of experience. One more milestone passed. One more
notch in her legacy belt. One more potential brand touch. One more extension of
her sentiments. The accumulation of which eventually kicks open the door of
opportunity. The painful part is, art takes a long time to pay for itself.
There’s no accounting for timing. Life has a mind of its own. Sometimes the
door of opportunity doesn’t swing open until we’re stranded in a third world
country with a gun to our heads. And so, all we can do is keep working. Keep
interest up on a mass scale, and keep putting things up on the shelf.What did you create today?

The outflow is out of our control. Joan never could have foreseen having a
loyal fan base in a small village south of the equator. But that’s the experience
of being a writer. Your creative river reaches places its source never knows.
Which can be both a blessing and a curse, depending on your mindset. The
ambient pressure of not knowing can be inspiring, but it can also spark internal
panic. The process of anchoring what you create to probability can be an
exhilarating dance, but it can also be profoundly exhausting. The daily shot
into eternitycan become beautiful horizon to point to, but it can also
feel like you’re just winking in the dark.And so, it’s another exercise in trusting the process. Not waiting,
necessarily, since waiting is remarkably taxing and provokes anxiety. Butbecoming
at ease with the state of not knowing.
Believing against all odds and all evidence that when the rivers of creative
water flow out of us, they will reach in blessing to even the ends of the
earth, regardless of how small the visible effects may be.Are you giving up the moment before the
miracle shows up?

Take your truth direct to market. Anything
that’s a barrier to getting our work in people’s hands is a problem. The goal
as creators is to build as many bridges as possible between us and our
audience. What’s charming about this movie is, back in the eighties, authors
had less to worry about. Joan wasn’t laying in bed with desperation etched on
her face, obsessively checking email on her phone, stressing herself out over
distribution conundrums. She just wrote the books and got on with her life.
Thirty years later, however, the marketplace is a little different. I recently
released a series of eight digital books on the same day. But when the evil forces
of technology decide to screw up my launch, I had to find a way to offer a
standby version of my books until the problem was resolved. The experience was
infuriating, but it taught me a valuable lesson about giving people something
to nosh on while you’re scrambling in the kitchen. I learned that by
intentionally creating this service event, I could deliver bonus value and come
out stronger than if nothing happened.How will you bridge the gap that exists between you and your potential
audience?

What did you learn?

* * * *

Scott Ginsberg

That Guy with the Nametag

Author. Speaker. Strategist. Filmmaker. Publisher. Songwriter. 

[email protected]

Never the same speech twice. Customized for your audience. Impossible to walk away uninspired.

Now booking for 2014-2015.

Email to inquire about fees and availability. Watch clips of The Nametag Guy in action here!

All creativity begins with the moment of conception.

That little piece of kindling that gets the fire going. That initial source of inspiration that takes on a life of its own. That single note from which the entire symphony grows. That single spark of life that signals an idea’s movement value, almost screaming to us, something wants to be built here.

And so, in this new blog series, I’m going to be deconstructing my favorite moments of conception from popular movies. Each post will contain a video clip from a different film, along with a series of lessons we can learn from the characters.

Today’s clip comes from the numbers scene from Pi:

What can we learn?

Create a system for extending the mind. I’ve been categorizing and indexing the record of everything I’ve written for the past fifteen years. That’s my secret weapon as an artist. It’s the trusted system that prevents me from holding too many ideas in my head. That way, my mind is free to think creatively about what’s needed relative to those ideas. The only problem is, I feel unarmed without it. Going to work every morning without that structure is unimaginable to me. And so, I converted it into a search engine. A portable idea warehouse. A convenient tool for accessing my creative inventory. An external parking place for fleeting thoughts that helps keeps the flow of creative thinking going. Which isn’t especially useful or interesting to anyone but me, but the experience of creating this system taught me a valuable lesson. The more outstanding thoughts that plague our consciousness, the harder is to think creatively. Hanging onto every idea is a low level task. It’s not a prudent use of my brain’s time and energy. Max, a man who suffers from hallucinations, cluster headaches, extreme paranoia and social anxiety disorder, is living proof that the mind is a terrible office. Unless he creates placeholders for his thinking, he’ll never relieve the pressure from his psyche that frees it up for more valuable work, or, god forbid, a little peace and calm. What’s your system for clearing the deck and unsticking your workflow?

Unprocessed ideas equal unnecessary stress. This film’s low budget, blotchy visual style perfectly renders the maddening and claustrophobic intensity of living the cerebral life. In fact, watching the final scene where Max performs a frontal lobotomy on himself with a power drill, makes me never want to look at another math problem again. It’s a gruesome lesson about the perils of the life of the mind, but a worthwhile one nonetheless. Truth is, until all of our ideas are collected somewhere other than our head, managed into trusted external systems, we just as vulnerable to psychological deterioration. Creators need to make room. To relieve their brain of the necessity of remembering. To free up their working memories and open themselves to receiving new ideas. And the easiest strategy for doing so is to establish a personal ground zero. This is the entry point into the creative processing workflow. The central cockpit of creative control. The primary location for offloading raw materials into the idea factory. It’s the number one secret to having a healthy, productive and profitable thought life. Without a ground zero, it’s impossible to move new ideas downstream so they can peacefully return to their natural state. Are you trying to fool your own mind?

The pedal driving your racing brain. In the final scene of the movie, a young girl approaches Max in the park asking math questions. But upon hearing the problem, the tortured genius actually smiles for the first time. He claims that he doesn’t know the answer. And instead of obsessing about the patterns, he begins observing the trees blowing in the wind. Max is finally at peace. He’s now able to look upon the maddening complexity of the tree, but accept it as an unsolved problem. It’s a powerful lesson that we can’t neglect our non thinking life. Because if there’s not enough whitespace around our grey matter, our heads might explode. It’s the difference between listening to the bird sing, and tormenting yourself trying to figure out what species of bird is singing. It’s the difference between reading books for pleasure, and reading books to figure out the strategy and architecture and opportunities around the books. That’s the mark of a mature creator. Someone who can resist the urge to snap into thought mode. Someone who can transport themselves to mental place where they don’t have to work. Someone who doesn’t feel obligated to do anything other than just soak it all in. How skilled at your at pressing the off button?

What did you learn?

* * * *

Scott Ginsberg

That Guy with the Nametag

Author. Speaker. Strategist. Filmmaker. Publisher. Songwriter. 

[email protected]

Never the same speech twice. Customized for your audience. Impossible to walk away uninspired.

Now booking for 2014-2015.

Email to inquire about fees and availability. Watch clips of The Nametag Guy in action here!

All creativity begins with the moment of conception.

That little piece of kindling that gets the fire going. That initial source of inspiration that takes on a life of its own. That single note from which the entire symphony grows. That single spark of life that signals an idea’s movement value, almost screaming to us, something wants to be built here.

And so, in this new blog series, I’m going to be deconstructing my favorite moments of conception from popular movies. Each post will contain a video clip from a different film, along with a series of lessons we can learn from the characters.

Today’s clip comes from the studio scene from Hustle & Flow:

What can we learn?

Your mental bandwidth is worth more. Being prolific is more than what we do, it’s what we
avoid. It’s the willingness to conserve our best energies for the activities
that have leverage. Creativity, then, is a process of elimination. It’s an
ongoing effort to remove the constructs that stand in the way of production. There are physical ones, like watching television
and going to meetings and attending seminars and getting sucked into the ego
vortex of social media, each of which adds unnecessary demands on our time and
attention. There are philosophical constructs, like permission and expectation and
procrastination and anxiety, all of which add profound pressure and complication
to our mental experience. And there are personal constructs, like saboteurs and
drama queens and unsupportive friends and constitutionally
incompatible partners, all of whom become obstacles that keep
us from bringing new life to what might be.
And so, the goal is to clean out as much of that plaque as we can, thus freeing
up our expressive faculties to focus on principal creation. The primary unit of
the creative process that requires focus and craft. In this movie’s case,
sweating it out in the studio, laying down tight hooks over dope beats. Are you investing your valuable creative
energy imagining personal battles, or executing physical assets?

You don’t need
more you. Djay
knows that trying to be creative alone is like trying to play basketball
without a backboard. Without the ambient humanity of other artists, their nose
gets pressed too hard against their own glass. Empathy, on the other hand, can become a profound source of creative
inspiration. There’s a fascinating study from the Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin which found that people
are often more creative for others than for themselves. Turns out, when we
distance ourselves and focus on someone else’s problem, we become more
expansive, our perspective broadens, and we become more flexible and abstract
in our thought patterns. I’m reminded of a songwriting circle I recently
attended. Each of us was sharing our struggles with various creative blocks.
And then a guitarist played one of his unfinished tracks, searching for an
interesting bridge idea to complete the piece. Within moments of sharing, three
people almost jumped out of their seats with suggestions for transition chords
to use for the bridge. And so,
that’s the creative potential of empathy. Once we stop stewing over our own
circumstances and start contributing meaningfully to the growth and well being
others, we create a tide that raises all boats. Because we cannot hold a torch
to light another’s creative path without brightening our own. Are you locking yourself into concrete and
rigid ways of thinking?

Inspiration is the ultimate survival mechanism. Djay is stumbling but surviving. He’s got problems
with friends, family, girlfriends, prostitutes, policemen, competitors and even
the radio stations. It really is hard out here for a pimp. But every artist
goes through this. At one time or another, we all have a strong urge to abandon
the process. Especially when the conditions are hot and muggy. But that’s the
difference between prolific creators and amateur dabblers. Stamina. Turning obstacles into aphrodisiacs. Rekindling their
persistence at a moment’s notice. Despite the hideous betrayal of all our
hopes, despite the persistent questions of whether it’s worth the time and
hardship to keep pursuing these creative project, we keep moving the story
forward. We keep adding energy to the system. Because not every part of us has
given us. Besides, it’s certainly better than the alternative. Being an out of
work artist is better than being an employed anything else. And a bad day
creating always beats a good day pretending to care about somebody else’s
dream. What inspires
your persistence and determination?

What did you learn?

* * * *

Scott Ginsberg

That Guy with the Nametag

Author. Speaker. Strategist. Filmmaker. Publisher. Songwriter. 

[email protected]

Never the same speech twice. Customized for your audience. Impossible to walk away uninspired.

Now booking for 2014-2015.

Email to inquire about fees and availability. Watch clips of The Nametag Guy in action here!

All creativity begins with the moment of conception.

That little piece of kindling that gets the fire going. That initial source of inspiration that takes on a life of its own. That single note from which the entire symphony grows. That single spark of life that signals an idea’s movement value, almost screaming to us, something wants to be built here.

And so, in this new blog series, I’m going to be deconstructing my favorite moments of conception from popular movies. Each post will contain a video clip from a different film, along with a series of lessons we can learn from the characters.

Today’s clip comes from the bigger boat scene from Jaws:

What can we learn?

Don’t be stopped by not knowing how. Brody’s expression in this scene is priceless. I remember
the first time I looked into the eyes of that shark. I was horrified. You’re definitely gonna need a bigger boat. What’s interesting is, that particular
line wasn’t part of the original script. Schieder improvised it on set, and it
became one of the most iconic quips in the history of film. Creativity is like
that, though. From a neuroscientific perspective, acting in the face of
uncertainty lights up the amygdala, the brain’s center of fear and anxiety. It
sends a surge of chemicals through our bodies that triggers the flight
response. Uncertainty literally makes us want to run away. And yet, not knowing
doesn’t have to imprison the artistic spirit. In fact, it can set it free.
Because once we admit that not everything can be resolved, once we make peace
with the uncertain beating of our wings, we can stop wasting energy trying to
find answers and start enjoying the questions. Keats called this negative capability. It’s the skill of
being in uncertainties, living with mysteries and dwelling in doubts, without
reaching after fact and reason. It’s the capacity of human beings to transcend
and revise their contexts. And the more of this negative capability we can develop,
the easier it becomes to navigate the choppy, chummy waters of the creative
process. Are you converting uncertainty
into fear or increased aliveness and alertness?

We are obliged to carve our own paths. Spielberg actually thinks of himself as a nervous
wreck. During a recent television interview, he said that it didn’t stem from fear, but more of
anticipation of the unknown. A level of anxiety about not being able to write
his life as well as he can write his movies. Jesus. Maybe he doesn’t need a bigger boat, but a stronger one.
Creators, after all, pay a hefty toll for their impulse to originate. The
greater desire they have to create, the greater uncertainty they have to
confront. The deeper their need to
represent, the deeper their need to be resilient. And so, once someone gets a
look at their own great white for the first time, and once they accept the nature
of the beast they’re up against, victory is a matter of securing a
strong foundation through constants.
These are internal anchors of stability. Repeated daily experiences that allow
creators to stand on firm ground. Whether they’re places to return to, rituals
to abide by, people to confide in, practices to rely on and structures to lean
against, these constants are what keep a person’s creative life stable and
fruitful during times of uncertainty. They help them secure a measure of
control in a world of chaos. They build the proverbial bigger boat. Have you built a repertoire of faithful
forces?

Ambition can get expensive. Approximately three hundred million kernels of popcorn
fell to the theater floor when this scene first appeared in the seventies.
Cinema doesn’t get much better. And yet, as I rewatched this scene a few times,
a revelation occurred to me. Sometimes we don’t need a bigger boat. Sometimes
we need to turn the damn boat around, dock it, go home and get on with our
lives. Verey famously wrote about this lack of negative
capability. He talked about a man who would rather walk in false lights than in
mystery, someone who preferred the imposing completeness of a delusion rather
than the broken fragments of truth. Quint’s character is the prime example.
He’s become so enmeshed in his own survival agenda, so entombed in his
complacency, and so identified with his own toughguy war hero persona, that he
fails to comprehend the tangible consequences of his careless ignorance. It’s
not wonder the shark swallowed his ass whole. Are you throwing a life jacket to something that’s already sunk to the
bottom of the ocean, or finding a new place to swim?

What did you learn?

* * * *

Scott Ginsberg

That Guy with the Nametag

Author. Speaker. Strategist. Filmmaker. Publisher. Songwriter. 

[email protected]

Never the same speech twice. Customized for your audience. Impossible to walk away uninspired.

Now booking for 2014-2015.

Email to inquire about fees and availability. Watch clips of The Nametag Guy in action here!

All creativity begins with the moment of conception.

That little piece of kindling that gets the fire going. That initial source of inspiration that takes on a life of its own. That single note from which the entire symphony grows. That single spark of life that signals an idea’s movement value, almost screaming to us, something wants to be built here.

And so, in this new blog series, I’m going to be deconstructing my favorite moments of conception from popular movies. Each post will contain a video clip from a different film, along with a series of lessons we can learn from the characters.

Today’s clip comes from the lowrider scene from Gone in Sixty Seconds:

 

What can we learn?

Inspiration is the
ultimate survival mechanism. Ritual is a proven way to reduce anxiety. It’s
how artists mark the movement from the everyday rush of regular life into the
calming focus of creative time. Randall’s theme song fires up the team and
prepares them for battle, but also ceremonially creates a calming environment
to move them effortlessly into the trance of working. Even if they give him
strange glances, they know he must be faithful to his own eccentric nature. The
music is the associative trigger that creates the conditions to elicit his best
work, and they have to respect that. The lesson, then, is that everything we do
is part of the creative process. Even if we’re sitting in stillness, entering
into the appropriate state of mind to do our work, it all matters. People overlook the basics of a productive life. They try to
complicate their creative processes with sophisticated systems and software
programs and time saving tools, when the reality is, all they need to give
shape and forward meaning to something is a kick ass soundtrack. These are the
simple rituals that reduce the experience of anxiety and lock us into peak
creative performance.Have you discovered what your own inner ecology has to be in order for you to create?

Anything that takes
you back. Campbell
famously said that all ritual is the enactment of a myth, and by participating
in the ritual, you are participating in the myth. He was right.Ritual
turns duty into celebration, turns tedium into meaning and turns disconnected
events into an ongoing story. I don’t know how people create without it.
Personally, I canmake
almost any experience more meaningful by layering anintentional,
purposeful and meaningful ritual on top of it. It’s all in how you frame the
activity. Randall’s pregame ritual is a comprehensive multisensory experience.
He thanks his teammates, which engages his heart through gratitude. He plays
his favorite song, which engages his ears through sound. He lays out his custom
tool roll, which engages his hands through touch. He unwraps his special car
stealing jacket, which engages his nose through smell. And he incants an
encouraging mantra to himself, which engages his spirit through meditation.
That’s how he creates an act of control in a moment of chaos. He may be a
criminal, but he’s also an inspiring example of how to ease into the creative
process. What rituals are you known for?

Be a
creator, not just an appreciator.What bothers me most about
television is, we’re spending thirty hours a week watching other people work.
Instead of creating things from whole cloth, we’re anesthetizing ourselves in
front of a screen while other people
are running restaurants, making moonshine, selling houses, designing dresses, driving
trucks, writing comedy, fixing cars and chasing storms. Instead of getting to
work ourselves, we’re investing massive amounts of time and energy and emotion
in other people’s art, fetishizing their
creative process, walking around their
museums, engaging in endless conversations about their lives. Yes, being a fan is a necessary feature of the
creative life. We still have to know what great art feels like. But as an
artist, the only discipline that counts is the discipline to create regularly.
It can have no other meaning. Everything else is shadow work. Disciplining
ourselves topublish sophisticated book reports of other people’s work
is commendable, but doesn’t make us creators. If we want to get on with the
real work of making real art in the real world, we need to create something
from whole cloth. Something that’s ours. Something that shows people how we see
life.Are you watching other people
create or establishing routines of your own?

* * * *

Scott Ginsberg

That Guy with the Nametag

Author. Speaker. Strategist. Filmmaker. Publisher. Songwriter. 

[email protected]

Never the same speech twice. Customized for your audience. Impossible to walk away uninspired.

Now booking for 2014-2015.

Email to inquire about fees and availability. Watch clips of The Nametag Guy in action here!

A key part of the Prolific Framework is learning and employing a robust vocabulary of creativity. It’s a language that permits you to communicate with yourself and others about the creative process, helps you make sense of the otherwise ambiguous world of creativity, empowers you to speak a language that supports your intentions, and allows you to conceptualize and describe your experience of creating.

Today we’re going continue building a working vocabulary of being prolific. Each definition comes with a link to a specific case study that shows the tool in action. Enjoy!

1.   
Content
detachment. The
creator’s obligation to empty himself
of any expectations, perceptions, hierarchies and value chains attached to his
ideas.

2.   
Creative
kindling. A source
of inspiration that reignites your
original enthusiasm and the impulse that initially fueled your
artistic energy reserve.

3.   
Creative
limbo. A lack of excitement around
not having discovering something worth doing, an inability to turn yourself over
to a new creative project.

4.   
Digging
your creative well. Accumulating
ongoing reference files
for your brain to work on through a passive, unconscious process.

5.   
Early
warning system. A
personal seismograph that
helps us take preemptive action against impending inner turmoil and anxiety.

6.   
Identity
based creation. Tapping
into your native endowments
and limitations of creativity, motivation, inspiration and intelligence and
channeling them in the service of making your ideas happen.

7.   
Incrementalism. Building a body of work based on a
practice of patience,
delayed gratification and continuity.

8.   
Industrious
revolution. The initial
calorie burning experience of unpleasant and
inconspicuous production that fortifies an artist’s appreciation delayed
gratification.

9.   
Integration. Employing the whole of
your personality, talents, gifts and experiences to contribute the highest
amount of value and firepower those around you.

10. Internal revolution. Updating the identity
story you tell yourself after spontaneously doing something you
didn’t realize you could do.

11. Mini sabbatical. The opposite of ambition, the antitheses
of labor, in which you leave the
creative land alone for a given period of time.

12. Pause buttons. A personal, portable toolbox of
strategies for reducing the experience of anxiety on a moment’s notice.

13. Peripheral creation. The secondary activities
of your creative process that involve more speed and less skill, i.e., editing
and formatting or networking and billing.

14. Permissionless platform. An honest canvas where
you can be completely free, expressing whatever you want, as loud you want, as
much as you want, in the way that you want

15. Ritual of leave taking. Microstructures that
celebrate the completion of a period of work, slow down the creative process
and set healthy boundaries to demarcate the line between work and nonwork.

16. Selective indifference. Being discerning enough
not to dwell on meaningless matters, conserving your best energies for your
creative efforts.

17. Self organization. Some form of global
order or coordination arises out of the local interactions
between the components of an initially disordered system.

18. Stiletto moment. Concentrating our portfolio of
talents into a tight little package that demonstrates the full firepower
of our creative arsenal.

19. The shove. The decisive interaction in which a
trusted friend eventufully
compels and artist to make a key change or take a massive risk in their
creative life.

20. Thievery muscles. Respectfully and ethically other
people’s ideas as sparks to superimpose your
own meaning and take the idea somewhere else, somewhere different, somewhere
better, until the original idea can no longer be identified.

* * * *

Scott Ginsberg

That Guy with the Nametag

Author. Speaker. Strategist. Filmmaker. Publisher. Songwriter. 

[email protected]

Never the same speech twice. Customized for your audience. Impossible to walk away uninspired.

Now booking for 2014-2015.

Email to inquire about fees and availability. Watch clips of The Nametag Guy in action here!

All creativity begins with the moment of conception.

That little piece of kindling that gets the fire going. That initial source of inspiration that takes on a life of its own. That single note from which the entire symphony grows. That single spark of life that signals an idea’s movement value, almost screaming to us, something wants to be built here.

And so, in this new blog series, I’m going to be deconstructing my favorite moments of conception from popular movies. Each post will contain a video clip from a different film, along with a series of lessons we can learn from the characters.

Today’s clip comes from the Neon scene from Blue Chips:

What can we learn?

Learn
to compress yourself. What I love about stiletto heels is,
they concentrate a large amount of force into a small area. Mathematically,
they have an area of about one sixteenth of a square inch per foot. But at the
moment when only the heel rests on the ground, each foot exerts pressure of
fifteen hundred pounds per square inch. That’s greater than under the foot of an elephant.
Stiletto heels, then, become the definitive symbol of compression. They remind
us that our body of work doesn’t fully serve us if we can’t concentrate it into
a tight little package. And so, part of our job as artists is creating stiletto moments, in which we
demonstrate all of our skills at once. That’s what makes our work stick. Because
once we show people our accumulated record, not just bits and pieces; once we
demonstrate the firepower of
our creative arsenal, not just the weapon we’re currently firing; and once we
help people taste the full scope of our artistic power, not just the project of
the moment, the
world will know the depth of our creation. Neon’s stiletto
moment happens right there on that court. Within seconds, his size, speed,
strength, agility and raw power are undeniable to anyone in attendance. He’s
mastered the art of compressing himself. What hidden gift or talent might you have that deserves a more prominent
place in your life?

Lucky enough to get
out of your ghetto. Neon has had a tragic life. He’s an only child. His
mother abandoned him. His father was a fisherman who got into boating accident
and was eaten by an alligator. And to make matters worse, he lives in the
sticks. His neighborhood is so dangerous that people join the army just to go on vacation.
But all of that tragedy is grist for his creative mill. That’s why he owns the
paint. Neon’s raw talent is a product of his even rawer environment. Nobody’s
ever seen anybody like him before. In fact, he has the potential to become the
most dominant center who ever played the game. But only if he’s willing to play
a game he’s not used to playing. College hoops are a long way from street ball.
And so, if he decides to compete at the college level, everything will change. Neon
will have to study and take tests and practice with a coach and play nice with
others and shed a false self that’s made up of cultural constructs. Meanwhile,
the people in community might become disenfranchised by his success. They might
try to keep him in his lane forever, pardon the pun. That’s what makes change
so hard. It requires mourning and letting go of a portion of our identities. Are you selling out or  outgrowing your origins and changing
direction proudly?

Where my dreams begin
to turn outward. Every once
in a while, a player comes along who is so haunted by talent that we can
barely look away. A once in a generation artist who makes us think, whoa, the
world cannot be deprived of this person’s magic. When I encounter people like
this, I just want to run up and hug them until every drop of talent comes
oozing out of their nose for all the world to see. What scares me, though, is
that some of those talented people will never become as successful and happy as
they could be, since they won’t have the resources to take their talents on the
ride they deserve. And so, it’s our
responsibility to show them the replay. To grab them by the lapel and reveal what they can’t see for
themselves. And to to tell
them what they’ve done, why it matters, and why they need to keep taking shots,
every day, forever, until it’s all over. We need to be a stand for these
people’s greatness. Because without that brand of encouragement–––which
costs nothing, by the way––they may never realize how bloody brilliant they really are. Will
you stand idly by while someone’s talent gets trapped in a box?

* * * *

Scott Ginsberg

That Guy with the Nametag

Author. Speaker. Strategist. Filmmaker. Publisher. Songwriter. 

[email protected]

Never the same speech twice. Customized for your audience. Impossible to walk away uninspired.

Now booking for 2014-2015.

Email to inquire about fees and availability. Watch clips of The Nametag Guy in action here!