The Magic Gap

It's easy to under-appreciate our own work. To lose the magic.

When we first pick up a new skill, it feels fantastic. We want to share it with the world. I dabble in Javascript every once in a while, and my wife has recently become sick of me saying, "HEY! I figured out how to grab the book titles from my Notion database and fill in the rest of the metadata with the Google Books API!" It feels incredible to learn something new.

Interestingly, as most people learn, grow, and become more skilled in their field, the value of their work can shrink in their minds. I see this often among other consultants and coaches and constantly among artists and designers.

I think this has something to do with the 80/20 rule.

As you learn something new, the first 80% comes fast. In just a few short hours or days of learning, you can figure out how to write a functional Javascript program, edit a photo in photoshop, or understand the basics of the StoryBrand framework. That first 80% gets me the most excited and is often as far as I go with any given hobby. That's the part that feels like magic to me.

The next 20% takes forever. It seems like 9,900 hours out of the 10,000 hours to mastery come in that last bit. When you're in that last chunk, 84%, 91%, 95%, it can feel like your progress is moving incredibly slowly. Unless you get to that top 99%, where people are actively, universally, recognizing your mastery, it can feel extremely daunting to move forward at all.

When you've spent two days learning photoshop, it feels like magic. When you have spent 6 years learning photoshop, it becomes familiar, that magic starts to fade, and it feels like anyone could do it. After all, you're just pushing buttons on a computer.

The weird thing here is that the perception of your magic is entirely different.

We all know the feeling of seeing someone do something extraordinary. When you stop in your tracks to watch that street performer or immediately share that YouTube video because it just blew your mind. I think all skills can be bucketed into two categories to better understand why some things feel like magic and others don't: common skills and uncommon skills.

We can all do common skills to some level of proficiency. Where the average person has that 80% mastery. Writing. Running. Speaking. Driving.

These are well-understood, broadly experienced skills. These don't feel like magic outside that top 1%. There is no magic in watching someone run an 8-minute mile. There is a lot of magic in watching Usain Bolt.

When the first 80% is commonplace, and mastery doesn't feel far away, only the top 1% gives you that magic.

What about uncommon skills? Drawing, photoshop, closeup magic (for a very on-the-nose example). These are the skills where the average person is at square one.

When you have an uncommon skill, the gap between you and your audience is naturally more significant, and even the slightest mastery can be mind-blowing. It's magic.

I've used photoshop for over a decade, and among coworkers, there is nothing special to note. Everyone is in that 80-99% range. We are all amazed by the 1%-ers, but rarely by each other.

But when I photoshop something for my parents, who have zero ability to do it themselves, it's magic.

Why does this matter? People pay for the magic.

An all-metal dining table might cost $500 in materials to make. A walnut dining table might cost $1500 in materials to make and take significantly more skill, labor, and years of practice to get right. The perceived value of the metal table is almost always higher. Why? Magic.

Most people have a basic understanding of woodworking. Maybe they couldn't, or wouldn't, attempt to make that dining table themselves, but they get the basics of how it works. Saw, screwdriver, sandpaper. Everyone has been exposed to these kinds of tools growing up. Almost no one is a true 0%.

But metal working? Metal is magic. Very few people have even a basic understanding of metalworking. It's hot, scary, and intimidating. No kid has a toy angle grinder. We live at 0%.

So people will pay more for the metal table. Not because the materials were higher quality or took longer to make, but for the magic.

I think this is also why art directors historically make more money than copywriters in ad agencies. Any hiring director can write. I've yet to meet one who can use photoshop. More magic, more dollars.

There are two critical lessons that are worth violently squeezing into the brains of every person, creative professional or otherwise, who is willing to read this.

1. If you want to make more money, find your magic. What skill do you hold that has the most significant gap between your mastery and your client's? How can you widen that gap even further or the perception of it?
2. Everyone judges their own magic by looking up. The more skilled you become, the less it feels like magic because the gap between you and mastery is shrinking exponentially. Remember that everyone looking at your magic is looking up that ladder too. If you feel like the magic isn't there anymore, take a second to look all the way back down the ladder and remember how far you've come.

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