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Ego Death of Design

I'm reposting an article I submitted to LinkedIn and Medium because it has a lot to do with design, broadly speaking, but also life and pursuits that challenge us and bring us to the next level. Whether you're thinking of starting a company, building a game, or joining a new gym, this one is for you. Enjoy.

I'm sick of hearing about imposter syndrome.

You're not that important.

That stings, doesn't it? But, it's the truth. Imposter syndrome and performance anxiety are products of the ego. We think we're supposed to be something we think others expect us to be: successful, competent, perfect. Ironically, this strained ideal is of our own creation. The resulting internal pain is catastrophic to creative output. We stop before we start because of all the reasons why we think we shouldn't be here.

"I don't deserve this. I'm not as good as all these other people. They'll figure out I have no idea what I'm doing."

Does that sound familiar?

Think of it in terms of two types of games as popularized by Naval Ravikant: status games and wealth games. Allow me to change the terminology a bit. Let's call them "ego games" and "solution games." They lead the to same outcomes regardless of the label.

Ego games: we play these when we strive to appear significant to our peers or superiors. We play them when we feel we need appear more valuable, often to satiate our own craving for importance. We create an identity around the things we call ourselves and processes we follow. This is an error.

Solution games: we play these when we identify a problem to be solved. We play them when we're unconcerned with who we are or who we appear to be, but rather how we'll handle the challenge at hand. We don't worry about our identity or appearance to others because we're too busy solving and creating to care. We are creators. We are builders. This is our aim.

This reminds me of a conversation with a corporate recruiter from years ago. The names of the positions changed because, honestly, I don't remember what they were. Dramatized for effect:

Recruiter: "We're ready to offer you $X for base compensation at the Associate UX Designer III level."

Me: "Is there any way we can get up to $X+Y? I'll be doing some serious work on this new initiative and leading a lot of the product design for it, but it sounds great and I'm ready for the challenge."

Recruiter: "Oh, well, we can't do that since we'd have to up-level you to a new salary band and you'd be called Junior Director UX Design I. That wouldn't look right to the higher-ups and your collaborators."

Me: "I don't care if you call me Bozo the Clown 18, I want to do the hard work and be compensated for it."

I refused to play their ego game and terminated the hiring process. (Hint: if you're still tying compensation to titles instead of value, you're the clown.)

Ego games leave you empty, afraid, and unfulfilled. You see others winning, and you want a piece of that glory, but you feel you'll never deserve it. You see a creative pursuit you know will fill your cup, but since you're not already a two-decade veteran product specialist, a published author, or an award-winning athlete, you stop thinking you can achieve that and go back to the land of nervous make-believe. Because everybody knows all those people lucked upon a golden ticket in the bottom of a cereal box to achieve their results.*

Solution games are creative rocket fuel. You find a challenge to overcome and you work at it until you bleed. You want to be an author? Write the book. You want to be a game designer? Make the game. You want to be a marathon runner? Put on your shoes and start running. You want to be a design researcher? Practice your research technique. You want to be a founder? Start the company.

Nobody is watching you but you.

When you're ready to show your work to the world, you still won't be the center of attention. This is good. You've built, shipped, and shown your efforts. Best case: people notice your hard work and find value in it and ask for more. Worst case: nobody notices and you have to start again.

David Goggins says, "You will never see a hater doing better than you."

Trust me, the haters will not come for you on your first adventure. And, when they do, that's how you know you've made it. Your ego didn't win. You're not an imposter.

You're who you wanted to become.

*I'm dating myself here. Do cereal boxes still have prizes in them?

To future worlds, Matt Ventre