There’s a myth we keep recycling in the creative world—that great ideas arrive in a flash. That they show up fully formed in a brainstorm or during some perfect storm of caffeine, confidence, and chaos. The mythology is seductive: someone walks into a room, says something unexpected, and magic happens.
But the truth is more grounded—and more demanding.
After years of building, advising, and creating across industries, I’ve learned this: real insight doesn’t show up in the first round of thinking. What shows up early is sugar.
Sugar ideas feel great. They’re exciting. Sweet. They give you a rush because they sound clever or tap into the zeitgeist. But most of the time, they’re exactly what someone with a decent grasp of the space should think of. They’re surface-level. They don’t challenge assumptions. They don’t risk anything.
And if you stop there, you’ve failed the work.
The first discipline in real ideation is burning the sugar. Let it out. Write it down. Say it aloud. Let yourself get excited by it—and then watch that excitement fade. Those first ideas aren’t gold. They’re noise. The static that comes with being smart enough to show up, but not yet deep enough to break new ground.
Once you’ve cleared that away, the actual process begins. And it starts with immersion.
For me, immersion isn’t just reading the articles, watching the videos, or listening to the podcasts. That’s table stakes. You’ve got to go further. You’ve got to go native.
That means spending time in the corners of the internet where the superfans live. The forums no outsider would understand. The comments sections. The Discord threads. You talk to the people who care more than you ever will. You shut up and listen. You don’t go in trying to be impressive—you go in trying to learn.
But even that isn’t enough.
Because at some point, immersion has to move beyond intellect. You can’t think your way into understanding. You have to live your way there.
If you’re working in gaming, game. Don’t just critique the mechanics—feel them. Get frustrated. Get addicted. Get bored. Get competitive. Learn what it feels like to care.
If you’re working in running, run. Lace up. Hit the pavement. Feel your lungs fight you. Feel your legs give out. Learn what kind of person wakes up at 5:30 a.m. just to suffer a little and do it again tomorrow.
If you’re working for a bank, open an account. Apply for a loan. Try to wire money. Feel the friction. Feel the trust—or lack of it—that someone has to place in a system they barely understand.
You can’t build for someone if you don’t know what it feels like to be them.
Not conceptually. Not strategically. Physically. Emotionally. Personally.
It’s easy to stay in the world of strategy decks, trend reports, and borrowed insights. But the good stuff—the real ideas—don’t live there. They live in contact. In empathy forged by experience. In knowing something not because you read it, but because you felt it.
And here’s the secret: this is why the work is fun.
Because when you commit to this level of depth, you don’t just create—you transform. You get to be someone else for a little while. You get to trade certainty for curiosity. You get to live different lives, think different thoughts, and feel things that don’t belong to you.
And when you emerge from that immersion—if you’ve listened well enough, lived fully enough—you can finally offer something real. Something that wouldn’t embarrass you in a conversation with someone who actually knows. Something that adds to the dialogue instead of echoing it.
That’s where originality is born—not from instinct, but from experience. Not from being clever, but from being willing to go deeper than most people ever will.
So burn the sugar. Immerse yourself. Become someone new.
Because great ideas don’t arrive. They’re earned.
We live in a world that celebrates quick hits and clever takes—but real creativity is slower, deeper, more human. The best ideas are forged through effort, empathy, and immersion. That’s the work. That’s the way.
If this episode resonated with you, I’d love for you to subscribe on Substack, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. Leave a comment, share it with someone who needs to hear it, and help more people find their way to this kind of thinking.
I’ll be back tomorrow with another episode. Until then—go earn your next great idea.
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