Absurdly Driven looks at the world of business with a skeptical eye and a firmly rooted tongue in cheek.
Geniuses aren't like everyone else.
Can they, though, have something in common? Is it possible that they
don't just snap their fingers while drinking a schnapps or a Napa
Sauvignon Blanc and encounter eureka?
Mason Curry wondered if that was the case too. So he wrote
Daily Rituals: How Artists Work.
In it, he tries to identify common factors among the likes of Franz Kafka and Frank Zappa.
Ah, wait. Zappa didn't make the cut. But Karl Marx, Woody
Allen, Pablo Picasso, and Twyla Tharp did. So did Andy Warhol and Jane
Austen.
Now that would be a dinner party.
Curry offers a lot of anecdotes.
The Harvard Business Review then wondered how many threads it could find that bound these geniuses together. What a list.
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1. They like going for long walks.
These people were all prone to the constitutional. They
believed that it cleared their brains. Many of them, though, operated
before the long walk was replaced by the StairMaster, the elliptical
machine, and the, um, hike. It's understandable, therefore, that walking
was one of their few options for exercise. It's known that Steve Jobs
was and Mark Zuckerberg is partial to walks (and perhaps one of these
two qualifies as a genius). But wouldn't it be lovely if there could be a
few more beautifully sculpted geniuses for us to look up to?
2. They stop when they're on a roll.
This is profoundly un-American. Surely, you might think,
they'd want more and more of their genius to pour out while they were
feeling geniusy. But, no. They always want to leave something in
reserve, perhaps to help them get on a roll the following day. The
exception to this was Mozart, who apparently just couldn't help himself.
3. They enjoy quantifying their output.
Apparently, Ernest Hemingway was a word-counter. How
complicated that must have been when you're writing on a typewriter and
you literally have to count, one guesses, with your finger. Especially
when you're a renowned drunk. (He was more into absinthe than mojitos,
by the by.) Still, he wasn't the only one who liked to put a number to
his achievements. Anthony Trollope was a little like that. I worry. It's
a little like the high schooler who says he's crammed for 12 hours the
night before a test. One is tempted to suggest: So what?
4. They enjoy a quiet place to work.
This isn't easily achieved. Especially in today's world
where we're all expected to, oh, share (translation: open offices are
cheaper). Thinking straight is hard enough. Thinking like a genius may
require astonishing silence. Graham Greene apparently had a very simple
idea: He just didn't tell anyone where his secret office was. Yes, just
like El Chapo Guzman. It does seem fairly logical, though, that silence
might help.
5. They don't have much of a social life.
I've never understood those who like to be terribly social.
The whole thing seems fake, especially in places like New York where
being social means talking about yourself very loudly to as many people
as you can. How tiring. Picasso and his girlfriend Fernande Olivier
would see people only on Sundays. Proust just withdrew from society. If
you've ever read any Proust, you'd understand that society might have
been grateful for that. Still, it seems frightfully logical that an
energy-sapping social life is just one more distraction. Why bother,
when your goal is to have everyone in society remember you for ever?
6. They ruthlessly separate administration from real work.
This seems a fairly obvious one too. Don't we all try to do
this? Perhaps we aren't genius enough at it. Of course, in the days when
most of these geniuses did their best, there were only letters to deal
with. There was only the mail system. There wasn't the constant barrage
of electronic nonsense battering at their minds and souls from 20
directions. Many are the current soi-disant geniuses who are genuinely
bothered by something a mindless youth in underwear has said about him
on Twitter. The geniuses of times gone by didn't have this worry. They
could stick to just being brilliant. It sounds like a wonderful life,
doesn't it?
7. They have a loving partner who tolerates their every whim.
My picaresque experience of life tells me that there aren't
too many geniuses who operate entirely alone. To maintain not only their
life administration, but also some fine level of mental equilibrium,
they have lovers who believe in them, understand them, and, most
crucially, tolerate them. And when the tolerance runs out, the genius is
clever (or famous) enough to find another tolerant lover. Currey offers
this of Sigmund Freud's wife, Martha: "She laid out his clothes, chose
his handkerchiefs, and even put toothpaste on his toothbrush." And this
was the man who claimed to know so much about the human mind. Doesn't he
sound like another manipulative, controlling old cove? Perhaps he
should have talked to his shrink about it.
Ultimately, I suspect, not every genius knows that he's a
genius. Geniuses do things that they find absorbing. They work hard at
doing something genuinely new. But who appoints them genius? Often, it's
some strange committee of academics or media people after the genius is
dead.
An exception to this observation is, of course, Kanye West.
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