Sometimes we shrink when presenting our ideas.

We recoil from the power of our thinking. We use self-deprecation to insulate our egos.

“I've got a stupid idea...”

“I've got a crazy idea...”

It makes sense. Being creative can be a fragile process. A little emotional bubble-wrap seems prudent.

But it's not.

There are really two issues here.

The first is our enmeshment, our seamless blending of an idea and our self. We literally think we are the idea. Just as we'd protect ourselves (our ego), so we seek to proactively protect our idea from your response to it.

That can be the subject of a future post.

What I want to focus on here is the self-applied distinction between a "crazy" versus a "stupid" idea. Or any label, really, in front of our life's work.

Front-loading the presentation of an idea as "stupid" is stupid. You are, by default, telling your audience not to pay attention. Which begs the question: Why speak up in the first place?

If you frame your own work as "stupid," how can you expect the rest of us to care? After all, you don't.

In contrast, "crazy" is good. Crazy ideas are ripe with potential and passion.

In fact, we should demand "crazy" from ourselves and our collaborators. If you're going to bother being a person of ideas, why shoot for less than the moon?

Consider your work -- does it merit the beloved label "crazy?" Are your ideas of that esteemed caliber?

If you lead creative people, you might try requesting crazy. Mandate all ideas are prefaced by the formulaic, "Here's a crazy idea..." See if the work lives up to that level. It certainly beats "Here's a mediocre idea..."

That's what we want of ideas, isn't it? We want the essence of unexpected, slightly unreal, difficult -- but not impossible.

Because it's the crazy ideas that create change we notice, desire and appreciate.