It is hard to come up with a precise definition of originality. It means too many things to too many people. Does being original simply mean doing things differently? If yes, would you consider adding salt to your cappuccino original? Does originality have to do with getting better results?
Perhaps, but that would be too restrictive. Writer Haruki Murakami came up with three basic requirements to be deemed original. He wrote these keeping writers and artists in mind, but the lessons seem to be applicable more broadly.
First, original work must possess a clearly unique and individual style. It should also be immediately perceivable at first sight or hearing.
Second, the style must have the power to update itself, grow with time, never resting in the same place for long. It should express an internal and spontaneous process of reinvention.
Third, that characteristic style should become integrated with the psyche of the audience, to become a part of their basic standard of evaluation. Subsequent generations of artists should see that style
as a rich resource from which they can draw.
Put simply, original work should be unique, adaptable and capable of setting a benchmark for evaluation. As an entrepreneur, I am often asked what I do to be original and creative. It is a difficult question. I read, think, talk to interesting people, get feedback from customers, but beyond that I am unsure if anything makes me original.
To write this article, I reflected on the times I thought I did original work. It turns out that constraints helped me come up with new ideas. When I worked at Microsoft, I had limited time to do other things. Over weekends and holidays, I came up with the mission and vision of Network Capital. One evening, on my way back from a party, I set up a minimum viable product to test out my idea. I had no time, capital, team or past entrepreneurial experience, but the minimum viable product worked.
Surprisingly, the lack of everything considered essential for building a company turned out to be a massive advantage. I was building a peer-to-peer mentorship ecosystem for students and young professionals. I am sure a lot of people thought of starting something similar, but in my network, I was the first one to operationalise it. In that sense, perhaps you can call it unique.
I was in love with the problem I was trying to solve, not the solution. This empowered me to experiment diligently. I felt no pressure of sticking to a playbook. I had to invent it by continually iterating on experiment results. That made my approach adaptable.
Once I started building a product, I managed to find paying users quickly. This set a new benchmark for looking at side hustles. You could actually do what you love and manage to make a living out of it. Now there are many people building and monetising side hustles, but at the time I started, there were very few.
There is another component to innovation—earned secrets. They are insights gleaned from grappling with a problem over an extended period of time. You discover them not by scrolling through Twitter or reading an article, but by figuring out insights that are both obvious and easy to miss.
I have found that innovative professionals and entrepreneurs often master the art of paying attention. Yes, they are more interested in paying attention than getting attention. This gives them the opportunity to build a solid foundation of knowledge essential to know what to keep, what to let go of and where to innovate.
Finally, innovation thrives at intersections. In his famous TED talk ‘When Ideas Have Sex’, Matt Ridley explains how the engine of human progress has been the meeting and mating of ideas to make new ones. This combinatorial innovation has been one of the crowning glories of humans since the dawn of time. Innovation can better be explained as a collective. Sure, some people end up producing creative works of art and technology, but the global ecosystem moves forward when we build on top of each other’s work.
I like to think of innovation as a process that can be cultivated with practice. No one is universally talented. We all have pockets of excellence and bubbles of competence. With the right mindset and approach to innovation, we can scale it and make it serve humanity at large, rather than in select pockets, valleys and hubs.
I agree with Murakami’s three-pronged approach to innovation, but instead of shaping innovative individuals, I want us to focus on creating innovative societies. The strategies would be similar, but our collective lens would differ. That’s innovative, perhaps.
Utkarsh Amitabh
CEO, Network Capital; Chevening Fellow, University of Oxford
Twitter: @utkarsh_amitabh