Two Camps, One Field

There seems to be a quiet battle – almost a cold war – between two creative ideologies.

In one corner: the slow-growers. Advocates of steady progress. Champions of letting ideas breathe, evolve, and settle. Their motto: “Let that sync in.” (No Elon Musk pun intended.)

In the other: the thrill-seekers. Believers in the adrenaline rush of the final hour. They swear by the magic of constraint, by laser-sharp focus when time is nearly out – and get an almost narcotic kick out of it. Their motto: “Pressure makes diamonds!”

These camps often pretend not to get along. They’d rather be dead than in the company of each other. And they repeat this story so often that they start believing it themselves. But here’s the twist: they’re far from being opposites. In fact, they’re partners in crime – and in their moonlight business of growing and harvesting strawberries. How is that possible? I’m happy you should ask.

The Cultivation and the Clock

This gives me the perfect opportunity to pull out one of my favorite tools: processes. To me, the key lies in recognizing that these two camps shine in different phases of the same process. When we talk about developing ideas – mulling over, iterating, growing – the strawberry metaphor absolutely makes sense. This is the cultivation phase. It needs time. Reflection. Exposure. Tending. To stay with the gardening metaphor: you plant the seed. You water it (sometimes with your sweat and tears). You bring it into the light of day (or add some candlelight if the day wasn’t long enough). You let it breathe (and get a breather yourself). You give it space to unfold into its full potential.

The Spanish Rule of Three

To strengthen the point: Fifteen years ago, during a summer course in lovely Cádiz, I picked up a deceptively simple rule of thumb (alongside bringing my Spanish up to speed):

When asked a question, your first answer is what you’re conditioned to say.
Your second is what you’ve absorbed from others.
Only the third tends to be your own.

I’ve remembered this not just because it’s catchy, but because over the years I’ve found it consistently true. And conceptual work follows the same pattern. The first version of an idea might sound clever, but it rarely has depth. The second one probably lacks bite, too. You – and the idea – need enough time and mental space for the good stuff to surface. To ripen.

Enter: The Harvester

But if we put a full stop here, we’d be doing the second camp – the harvesters – a disservice. Left to our own devices (whether preparing a presentation, a concept, or an article), we can land in a procrastination loop: spending a wildly disproportionate amount of time polishing the final 1%. But when the prep work is done and the ideas have had time to ripen, the assembly line kicks in. And if you’re not careful, at the stroke of midnight the strawberry turns into a pumpkin. (Unless you pluck it first.) Jokes aside, the harvesting stage is where the magic of a deadline kicks in. It nudges – or shoves – you to mobilize, to mold scattered fragments into something coherent. And yes, part of the magic probably is the adrenaline rush.

Delivery – the harvest – is different. It needs: Decisiveness, focus, efficiency and keeping your eyes on the target.

You can’t rush the ripening, you can’t avoid the harvesting.

“But what is my optimal strategy??”
“And what about that one time I wrote an excellent paper in one night??”

I’m glad you’re a curious reader. See you in two weeks to talk about that.