Gary Bloomer | SHAKING THE TREE # 242
Let’s be honest.
We’re all addicted to the highlight reel.
We see the flawless YouTube video, the viral LinkedIn post, the stunning newsletter, and we think: That’s the product.
That’s the thing to be admired.
So we pour all our energy into polishing that one thing, chasing that same high, hoping to replicate that one moment of magic.
We’re like an audience mesmerized by a magician’s final, breathtaking illusion, completely ignoring the thousands of hours of practiced sleight-of-hand that made it possible. We’re obsessed with the trick, not with the hard work, the preparation, and the training.
But there’s a problem with this mindset. It has no solid foundation, nothing underpinning it.
Your content—the blog post, the video, the podcast episode—is merely the output. It’s the visible tip of the iceberg. It’s volatile. It might fly, or it might flop. The algorithm might ignore it. Your audience might scroll past it. Who knows?
But your process? That’s immutable. That’s yours. It’s the 90% of the iceberg below the waterline that provides the stability and keeps the whole thing afloat.
The majority of content creators who quit do so because they don’t have a process.
Your process is the system, the ritual, the non-negotiable practice that produces the work, regardless of the weather, or illness, or mood.
My process? Hmmm … I sit down with a pen and notebook and I thrash out clusters of content: what ifs; how can I; what do you do to … and so on.
I’ll do this for as long as it takes me to come up with 15 to 30 ideas.
Then I’ll refine each point, fleshing it out with 5 to 7 subheads, each one of which is given a series of simple bullet points in logical order.
This process is ruthless. Basic. Perhaps even crude. But it works. Only once I’ve done all this will I write a prompt for an AI writing tool. Garbage in, garbage out. The better defined the prompt, the stronger the output.
Why is a ruthless commitment to process so powerful?
It eliminates the blank page. The number one creativity killer is uncertainty. “What should I create today?” is a question that leads to paralysis. That’s the point at which most people quit. A process answers that question before you have to ask it. Your process might be: On Mondays, I gather ideas. On Tuesdays, I outline. On Wednesdays, I draft. In this way, your blank page becomes a powerful a checklist. You’re no longer an “artist” waiting for inspiration; you’re a craftsman clocking in for your shift. And craftsmen consistently ship.
It separates creation from judgment. This is the big one. When you’re solely outcome-focused, you judge every idea the moment it appears. “Is this good enough? Will this perform?” This is a mistake; creative suicide. A proper process helps you carve out distinct phases. A “gathering" phase where no idea is bad. A “drafting” phase where the goal is simply to get a “vomit draft” on the page, with zero editing. chopping the process up into chunks you give yourself leeway to create crappy first drafts. You can edit crappy first drafts. You can’t edit a blank page.
It builds compound interest. A single piece of content might be a flash in the pan. But a process is a powerful, unstoppable compounding machine. Every time you execute your process, you get better at each tiny part of it. You get faster at researching. You find your voice through relentless drafting. You become a better editor. The quality of your output slowly but inevitably rises because the input of practiced effort is constant. The process itself becomes your most valuable asset, a competitive moat that cannot be easily copied.
It sets you free. This sounds counterintuitive, but with a process, structure creates freedom. Knowing how you work liberates you from anxiety about what you’re working on. When you’ve defined and refined your process you learn to trust it. In turn, this gives you the leeway to experiment within the process. You gain the courage to take creative risks because no matter what, the safety net of your system is there to catch you. The outcome of any single piece becomes less important than the integrity of the practice itself.
So, what does a process look like? That’s going to vary from one person to another.
One thing’s for certain though, it’s far from glamorous.
How so?
It’s the 20 minutes you spend every morning or each evening scanning headlines and saving them to a digital notebook.
It’s the Friday afternoon where you review your week’s ideas and pick one or two to outline.
It’s the “writing hour” with a note book, or with your phone in another room.
It’s the brutal 15-minute edit the next day where you cut 25% of your precious first draft because once you look at in the bright light of day you see it for the crap it is and you gladly let it go because you know that by doing so, you’ll create a final product that’s leaner, sharper, and more truthful.
Your process is your true product.
The published content is just the receipt, the proof that you did the work.
Stop worshipping the highlight reel.
Start worshipping the grind.
Fall in love with the unsexy, repetitive, and profoundly powerful practice of showing up, day-after-day, week-after-week, month-after-month.
The magic isn’t in the trick. It’s in the training. Get to it!
As always, thanks for reading.
—Gary
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P.S. If you found this useful, share it with another creator who needs an ego check (in a nice way). Want more unfiltered takes on content creation? Join my newsletter. No fluff, just the stuff that works.
Next time on Shaking the Tree: Content as catalyst
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Originally from the U.K., Gary Bloomer is a writer, branding advocate, marketing specialist, and an award-winning graphic designer.
His design work has been included in Creative Review (one of the UK’s largest design magazines). Since 2009, he has answered over 5,000 marketing and business questions in the Know-How Exchange of MarketingProfs.com, placing him among the top 3% of contributors. He lives in Wilmington, Delaware, USA.
Great advice, thanks 🫡