When Gary Smith was offered a dream position with a big salary he counter-offered to to only take half on contract.
Gary Smith is considered one of—if not the— best sports writer of all time. His in-depth profiles of the most famous and polarizing athletes of our time (think Tyson, Agassi, and Woods to name a few) are staggering, even for readers who don’t care about sports.
Sports Illustrated offered Smith a staff position in 1982. He counter-offered to take half the salary, on contract, and write only four pieces per year. “I was just feeling like a student of life at that point. There’s so much I want to see and learn that if I’m on the wheel with deadlines I just won’t be able to experience,” Smith said.
Years later, with a family and a mortgage, he would be put on as full-time but his writing was so valuable to the magazine, that he maintained his schedule of four pieces per year, allowing him to provide for his family and live a life of freedom.
With his ample free time, he traveled with his family, spending extended time in Italy, Bolivia, Spain and Australia. He chose the low-key vibes of Charleston over NYC. He had time to regularly explore intellectual and spiritual ideas with friends. He took up yoga and meditation.
In a profile about Smith, author Jospeh Bien-Kahn notes, “Smith existed outside the journalism industry while working within it, resisting offers from other magazines and lucrative book and TV deals. It was his rare gift—that clear-eyed view of what life could be and where work should fit in—that separated him.”
Additionally, his four-pieces-per-year schedule allowed him to go in-depth with each of his subjects, unearthing the subterranean aspects of a sports stars’ psyche. Getting close enough to his subjects to excavate these psychical threads and weave them into a story took time, and he had it.
Smith passed up money and status, and used this leverage to create his version of a liberated life. His simple approach challenged me. Throughout my career(s), I’ve often treated money as the main consideration. When I was barely scraping by, this perspective made perfect sense. Now that I make enough money to cover my expenses and live comfortably, I crave freedom and time.
Smith’s wisdom reminds me of what design leader Mia Blume says about work roles:
It comes down to a simple choice: design or be designed.
“Being designed” means letting the technologies and norms around you dictate how you work, losing sight of what matters and how you’re measured in your role.
“Designing,” by contrast, is the conscious act of owning your time and how you show up in the workplace.
“Design or be designed” is a mantra I am learning to apply to my own work. If I am not intentional, external or unseen forces will impress their intentions upon me. My creativity and sense of autonomy suffer.
Intentionality asks us to not be so personally identified with our output or role. Smith says, “You pour yourself into the writing, but it is not yourself. If you let it get that sticky, you’re stuck.”
Rather, I must behold it at an arm’s length. How does my work fit into the larger gestalt of my life?
Consider for yourself: where in my life am I unintentional with what I create? Where do I give up my autonomy to someone else’s design? Where can I reclaim my role as designer of my life?
I have noticed conscious intentionality has an astonishing compounding return. Where I direct my intention, I often notice and experience more joy and ease in my daily life. In a few decades, I hope to look back and see it allowed me to create the best work of my life.
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