Chapter 1: The Dynamics of Expertise and Opinion

Recently, I received an inquiry regarding a fundamental principle I uphold: if someone disagrees with my approach, their perspective holds little weight unless they can demonstrate expertise in that area. Numerous opinions flood my daily interactions, and unless someone exceeds my own expertise, I am inclined to overlook their input. Conversely, if they possess superior knowledge across multiple domains, I am eager to learn from them.

To clarify, I do tend to disregard opinions from those without substantial expertise unless their insights offer value. However, it's rare for such individuals to present ideas that experts might overlook. Given my established relationships with knowledgeable individuals in the fields that matter to me, I feel secure in my judgments. After all, at events like an SF convention, everyone seems to have a brilliant idea!

Let's delve into the types of individuals I find worth studying or following, using martial arts and writing as examples.

The ideal figure is someone who excels in both "doing" and "teaching." Take Sijo Muhammad, for instance: he not only masters martial arts but also effectively imparts his knowledge. He has trained champions in various combat styles and has navigated countless real-world confrontations. His ability to articulate his art—from the fundamental mechanics to deeper philosophical insights—makes him someone to learn from.

Next, we encounter two categories that share similarities: those who can perform skillfully but struggle to teach, and those who can teach effectively but are unable to perform. I know several champions who can instinctively execute techniques in a fight but find it challenging to articulate their actions. On the other hand, some individuals, such as older athletes or those with physical limitations, may have a wealth of theoretical knowledge yet lack practical experience.

In writing, an instructor may understand the structure and techniques but fail to tap into their creative flow, stalling their progress. This does not render them incapable of teaching valuable concepts, but I would approach their lessons with caution, seeking emotional insights elsewhere.

The performer who cannot teach can still be a valuable model: by observing their mindset and physicality, one can glean useful techniques through imitation. Engaging with them directly can be an enlightening experience, even if they lack the ability to verbalize their process.

Conversely, a teacher without practical experience becomes noteworthy if they once excelled in their craft. If their ideas clash with mine, I would seek validation from a respected individual who endorses their perspective. The more I value their opinion, the more inclined I am to explore the teacher's concepts and assess the outcomes.

At the heart of this discussion lies experimentation. My community is comprised of those eager to test new methods, while others prefer waiting for comprehensive studies. I trust my ability to discern effective strategies, viewing skepticism about personal experiences as a barrier to growth.

Thus, modeling a teacher who cannot perform is beneficial if your goal is to teach, but if you aspire to be a practitioner, you should focus on learning from active doers rather than merely seeking instruction.

The notion that "those who cannot do, teach" is misleading; those who cannot perform can still provide significant insights if they have studied successful practitioners and can effectively communicate their findings.

Chapter 2: The Role of Structure in Creative Processes

In writing, I respect instructors who possess a deep understanding of character development and thematic structure, even if their writing skills are lacking. I recall my first encounter with one such instructor—his knowledge was extensive, but his writing left much to be desired, akin to a centipede who knows all its legs but cannot dance.

To illustrate, let's categorize writing into three essential phases:

1. Pre-planning: This involves the logical organization of ideas. Various tools—index cards, outlines, whiteboards—help in transferring concepts from mind to medium, avoiding the mental strain of disorganization. Some, like "pantsers," operate differently, relying on inspiration rather than structured planning. While planning may not suit everyone, it often proves beneficial for most writers.
2. The Work: This phase involves entering a flow state to create. Many instructors who cannot perform may struggle here, as their analytical minds prevent them from embracing creativity. For them, the fear of producing subpar work can stifle their growth. They may prioritize their image as an expert over their creative pursuits, sometimes leading to bitterness.
3. Re-writing: This stage requires a balance between analytical and intuitive thinking. Writers must evaluate their work both structurally and emotionally, analyzing their responses under pressure and making necessary adjustments.

What about those who neither perform nor teach? Occasionally, insights may come from unexpected sources, such as a casual conversation with a friend who offers valuable observations, even if they lack formal expertise.

Ultimately, the goal is to pursue excellence while minimizing time spent debating with those who lack valuable insights. I maintain a mental filter to determine who deserves my attention, always questioning the validity of their perspective.

The presence of critics and those with inflated self-views is ubiquitous. It's crucial to discern between valuable advice and unhelpful opinions, learning to filter through the noise to find what truly matters.

Exploration and experimentation serve as my guiding principles. If I achieve my goals, my sorting mechanisms are effective. While it's beneficial to explore new ideas, under pressure, I revert to my foundational knowledge.

I once knew a talented writer who faced creative block due to an overwhelming number of potential story directions. While their skills flourished under direction, they struggled with decision-making on their own. Without a clear filtering mechanism for the myriad opinions we encounter, paralysis can ensue.

In essence, I propose a framework for sorting information—a philosophy that emphasizes modeling excellence, a strategy that prioritizes learning from practitioners, and tactics to identify who offers genuine insights.

This approach may frustrate those insecure in their own knowledge, but it fosters growth and clarity. If you wish to heed my advice, great! If you prefer another route, I welcome your experience in exploring it.

In conclusion, this method has served me well, and I encourage you to adopt what resonates with you while discarding the rest.

Namaste,

Steve

www.lifewritingpremium.com