What if your "scattered" career is actually your advantage?

I watched SNL's "Elf on the Shelf Support Group" this weekend and couldn't stop laughing.

A room full of elves in a church basement, confessing their situations.

It's a goofy sketch. But the lesson isn't.

Even "magical" workers need a support group. A place to admit the invisible labor is exhausting. That the expectations are unrealistic. That being watched all the time makes you feel like you can't ever be off.

Sound familiar?

That's the pressure ambitious builders live with every day. The sense that you should have it figured out by now. That you need to specialize in one thing and execute it perfectly, constantly.

But what if that's the trap?

If you haven’t seen it yet, give that video a watch. You’ll enjoy it — especially if you’re a parent! And while I write this, I’m just minutes away of finding a new place and situation to place our elf (Ollie) tonight.

Stop narrowing. Start translating.

Everyone tells ambitious builders the same thing: "Find your niche. Go deep. Master one thing."

I have heard that advice for years. And you know what happened?

There are times I have felt stuck. And bored. Like I was building someone else's career.

Then I heard Bill Gurley tell this story on Tim Ferriss's podcast:

Jerry Seinfeld read a book called The Last Laugh. It detailed the lives of stand-up comics, not the highlight reel. The actual day-to-day grind.

And Seinfeld said it "gave him permission" to pursue something that doesn't show up on any college career list.

The phrase that stuck with Gurley? "Don't half-ass it."

Not "pick the safe path." Not "specialize early."

Just: commit fully to the thing that actually calls to you, even if it's weird.

What I've learned across the industries I have spend time in (healthcare, college athletics, home services): The best builders don't narrow. They translate.

You don't need to be the world's foremost expert in one vertical. You need to see patterns others miss.

The specialization myth says depth comes from focus.

The reality? Depth comes from width. The more varied your experience, the more connections you can make.

A massive new study just analyzed 34,000 top performers. Nobel laureates, Olympic champions, renowned composers, world-class chess players.

The finding? Early specialization is a trap. (More on that below)

If you've jumped industries, switched careers, or felt like a generalist who'll never be great at anything?

You're not behind. You're building the exact skillset that matters most: pattern recognition across contexts.

Give yourself permission. Then don't half-ass it.

Writing brings clarity (even when you don't publish it)

I saw this tweet over the weekend from a popular Twitter/X account @ReadsWithRavi: "Writing is the closest thing we have to uploading our thoughts into language. It's debugging for the brain."

That's it.

Most people think writing is about communication. Sharing ideas with others.

But that's the output. The real power? Writing forces you to think clearly first.

When I'm stuck on a work problem, I don't brainstorm in my head. I open a blank doc and write — or I just take whip out my notebook and pen. I still enjoy the analog ways of work in some areas.

I do this not for anyone else. Just for me.

"What's actually wrong here?"
"What are we really trying to solve?"
"What would this look like if it were simple?"

Half the time, the answer shows up a couple paragraphs in.

The other half, I realize I was asking the wrong question.

Your move: Pick something you're stuck on right now. Open a blank doc. Write for 15 minutes. No editing, no stopping. Just thinking on the page.

You'll be surprised what shows up.

What I'm learning: The seasons of building

I've been thinking a lot about cycles lately. Partly because it's December and everything feels like it's winding down. Partly because I'm juggling three kids and client work.

You can't be in growth mode 24/7.

Sometimes you're planting. Lots of effort, no visible results yet.
Sometimes you're harvesting. Everything's coming together, momentum everywhere.
Sometimes you're resting. Maintaining, not expanding.

The peak performance study I referenced before backs this up. The best don't burn bright constantly. They vary their intensity. They explore, then focus. They rest, then sprint.

I spent years feeling guilty about the "rest" seasons. Now I see them differently.

Resting isn't quitting. It's reloading.

More on this next week. I'm working on a framework for identifying which season you're in (and what to do about it).

The data that validates your weird path

A massive new study just analyzed 34,000 top performers across four domains: Nobel laureates, renowned classical music composers, Olympic champions, and world-class chess players.

The researchers wanted to answer one question: What separates the absolute best from everyone else?

They found something that contradicts everything we've been told about mastery.

Early specialization is a trap.

The people at the very top didn't laser-focus from age five. They didn't follow the "10,000 hours in one domain" playbook that everyone quotes from Outliers.

Instead, they explored. They sampled. They brought insights from unexpected places.

The Nobel Prize winners? Most had diverse academic backgrounds before narrowing into their field. They'd studied multiple disciplines, worked in different labs, crossed intellectual boundaries. The ones who specialized early rarely made it to the top.

The Olympic champions? They played multiple sports as kids. The single-sport athletes who specialized early either burned out or plateaued. Multi-sport athletes developed better pattern recognition, adapted faster, and had longer careers.

The chess grandmasters? Many started late compared to their peers. They compensated by applying strategic thinking from other games. The early starters who drilled chess exclusively hit a ceiling.

The composers? They studied multiple instruments, multiple styles, multiple traditions before finding their voice. The ones who only learned one instrument struggled with creativity.

The pattern across all four domains? Range beats depth early on. Translation beats specialization long-term.

What that means: The road to greatness isn't a straight line. It's a weird, winding path where you collect frameworks from different contexts, then translate them into something new.

If you've been beating yourself up for not going deep enough in one thing, stop.

Your varied experience isn't a liability. It's exactly what separates good from great.

Read the full thread here

Until next week, keep building.

And if you're placing an Elf tonight? You're not alone.

Brian

P.S. If this resonated, forward it to another builder who's done the "weird career jump" thing. They'll get it.