The Case for One Good Idea: Child Wisdom Meets Creative Angst

The other day, my daughter peeked her head up from her latest creative project, blinking as if stepping out of a dream, and mused, “Do you ever get a really exciting idea about something new while you’re already doing something really exciting?”

Do I? Oh, absolutely! I wanted to throw my hands up and proclaim, “Welcome to the relentless carnival of entrepreneurship!” One good idea lures you in with its promise, only for another to barrel in, waving its arms and demanding the spotlight. And on it goes—a chaotic dance of competing inspirations, each one tripping over the next; never fully formed, never quite finished. It’s a parade of half-baked brilliance, suffocating under the glittering weight of all the shiny distractions yet to come.

But I held back. Instead, I said, “Yes. All the time. What do you do when that happens?” Because, let’s face it, child wisdom is often terrifyingly simple and wildly underrated.

Without missing a beat, she replied, “I finish the one I’m doing and then do the next.” So matter-of-fact, with the kind of focus that eludes so many adults. The ability to say not yet or not right now to a thought and stay in flow with the one she’s currently tending to.

Now, let’s be clear—this wisdom doesn’t always apply to out-of-flow activities like putting away clothes or capping the toothpaste. But when my daughter has a clear goal and it’s something she loves doing, there’s absolutely no stopping her.

I’ve thought a lot about that conversation and her ability to stay so tuned into her work. She’ll disappear for hours into an art project, completely immersed, and then reemerge glowing with pride. 

What makes this even more intriguing is that I’m part of a mini-book club with a colleague, where we’re motivating each other to read Stolen Focus: Why You Can’t Pay Attention—And How to Think Deeply Again by Johann Hari (and yes, the irony isn’t lost on me that I needed help focusing on a book about focus).

This week, we delved into the concept of “flow state”, an idea first researched and coined by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. As Csikszentmihalyi concluded and Hari explains in his book, flow isn’t about relaxation; it’s about engaging with a meaningful, clearly defined goal that pushes you to the edge of your abilities without overwhelming you. It’s that perfect balance—challenging yet achievable—that keeps you focused and energized.

What gets in the way, though, is fragmentation—our attention splintering into a million pieces. Hari likens it to "trying to run a marathon while stopping every few minutes to tie your shoelaces." Notifications, multitasking, and constant interruptions leave us too scattered to sustain the deep focus flow requires. And without a clear goal, flow feels even more unattainable.

When I think back to that moment, watching my daughter create and hearing her voice the question so many of us wrestle with daily—how do I resist the pull of all the shiny things calling for my attention?—I realize she had unknowingly cracked the code. She had created the conditions for focus: no distractions, no noise, just a clear goal and enough unknown to keep her curiosity alive.

For creatives and entrepreneurs, this feels like both a gift and a curse. We thrive on ideas, but without structure, those ideas scatter like leaves in the wind. As Hari puts it, “The ability to focus is like a muscle—it gets stronger the more you use it.” To build that muscle, we need clarity, purpose, and the courage to block out the noise.

And maybe that’s the real lesson: creativity doesn’t need to be tamed, but it does need space to grow—free of distractions and nurtured by focus. My daughter’s wisdom was disarmingly simple: Finish the one thing you’re doing and then do the next. A truth so obvious it feels almost radical in a world obsessed with multitasking. Sometimes, success isn’t about chasing every idea—it’s about giving one the attention it deserves. Leave it to a child to make the impossible feel refreshingly achievable.

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The Long Beginning

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The Puzzle on the Table: Not Everything Needs to Mean Something