The work doesn't care about your system. It just cares that you show up and do it.
đŹ The Scene: When You Break All Your Options
There's a moment in Tin Cup where Roy McAvoy is standing over a shot, wanting to hit his driver and go for the green.
His caddy Romeo (Cheech Marin) tells him not to do it. Play it safe. Lay up with a smaller club.
Roy refuses.
So Romeo breaks the driver over his knee.
Roy seems to relent. He reaches for a smaller club, like he's going to do the sensible thing. Then he breaks that club over his knee too.
And then, in a moment of pure stubborn rage, Roy proceeds to break every single club in his bag. Every one. Except the 7-iron.
Now he's got no choice. He plays the rest of the match with just that one club.
And you know what?
He qualifies for the U.S. Open.
The lesson isn't that the 7-iron is magic.
The lesson is that once Roy eliminated all his other optionsâall his excuses about which club was right for which situationâhe had to stop theorizing and just play golf.
đ Lost in America: Ten Yards in Expensive Gear
Albert Brooks nailed this exact problem in Lost in America.
His character David decides he's going to start joggingâyou know, get healthy, embrace the simple life. So he goes to a sporting goods store.
What should take five minutes turns into a full gear acquisition mission. The salesperson convinces him he needs special running shoes. And specific running shorts. And the right socks. And a moisture-wicking shirt. And a stopwatch. And a sweatband.
David walks out completely outfitted. He looks like he's training for the Olympics.
Cut to the track.
He's stretching in all his new gear. Looking the part. He gets on the track, starts running and... makes it maybe ten yards before he's gasping, walking off, done.
All that gear. All that preparation. Ten yards.
This is what most of us do. We convince ourselves that buying the equipment means we're serious. That having the right setup is basically the same as doing the work.
It's not.
David didn't need running gear. He needed to run. If he'd started running in his regular clothes and regular shoes, he would have quickly learned what he actually needed. Probably just comfortable shoes and the discipline to show up.
But he never got there.
He optimized before doing.
đĄ The Core Truth: You're Optimizing a Process You Haven't Started
Here's the part nobody likes to admit:
Busy work is often just another way of wasting time.
Researching feels productive.
Setting up feels productive.
Organizing feels productive.
None of it is the work.
It's Roy breaking every club to avoid committing.
It's David buying $300 of gear and quitting in ten yards.
It's avoiding the thing that actually moves you forward.
âď¸ The Hemingway Pencil Myth (And Why We Love It)
Writers adore the myth that Hemingway sharpened twenty pencils before he wrote.
Not true.
âI don't think I ever owned 20 pencils at one time,â
â Hemingway, The Paris Review
But we keep the myth alive because ritual is comforting.
Ritual is easy.
Writing is hard.
The real âritualâ Hemingway followed was simple:
Same place. Same time. Every day. Sit down. Write. No ceremony needed.
đ Real Stories About Tools Not Mattering
Ray Bradbury wrote his short stories on a rented typewriter at UCLA that he had to feed coins intoâten cents for thirty minutes. He didn't have time to optimize his process. The clock was literally ticking. So he wrote.
Thelma Schoonmaker edited Raging Bull on a Moviolaâa machine from the 1920s. She won an Oscar. The tool didn't matter. Her skill and work mattered.
Steve Jobs and Bill Gates had to pay for computer time in the early days. They coded only as long as they could afford. They didn't wait for perfect conditions. They worked within their constraints.
Shakespeare wrote with a quill and ink.
Hemingway had a typewriter.
The great tennis players of the '70s used wooden rackets.
Itâs not the tool that makes the artist.
Itâs the work.
Consistent work at your craft, your project, your business.
Thatâs what gets it done.
â Star Wars: Use the Force
There's a moment early in Star Wars that cuts right to the heart of this lesson.
Luke is debating with Han about blasters versus lightsabersâthe tool. The gear.
Obi-Wan stops him cold.
Itâs not about the blaster.
Itâs not even about the lightsaberââan elegant weapon for a more civilized age.â
Itâs about mastery and control of the Force.
Which is to say: control over himself.
The most powerful âtoolâ in the galaxy isnât a weapon.
Itâs discipline. Presence. Focus.
The same is true for us.
The most powerful tool isn't the software or the equipment.
Itâs the part only you can bring: showing up and doing the work.
đ How This Shows Up Today (Maybe in You)
The writer researching apps instead of writing.
The entrepreneur perfecting a logo instead of talking to customers.
The fitness person watching workouts instead of sweating.
The photographer debating gear instead of taking photos.
You're not optimizing a real process.
You're optimizing the idea of a process.
Meanwhile, professionals are already doing the work.
đ When Getting Ready Becomes Your Identity
This is where optimization becomes dangerous.
At some point, "preparing" becomes who you are.
You're not a writerâyou're someone endlessly preparing to write.
You're not a runnerâyou're someone with running gear who ran ten yards once.
You're not an entrepreneurâyou're someone polishing a brand that hasn't launched.
The preparation becomes the shield.
Because if you never start, you never risk finding out whether you're any good.
I've watched businesses die without ever releasing a thing.
Meanwhile, competitors ship something messy, learn, iterate, and win.
Execution always beats optimization.
â What to Do Instead
1. Start with what you already have.
Open whatever writing software you already own. Put down 500 words. Do that for 30 days before you even think about switching tools.
2. Start before you're ready.
Talk to customers before your site is perfect. Launch before your branding is beautiful.
3. Improve only after real friction.
Not invented friction.
Not imagined friction.
Do â hit a wall â improve â repeat.
đ The Bottom Line
Roy McAvoy broke every club except his 7-iron.
David Howard bought every piece of gear and ran ten yards.
One did the work.
One optimized the fantasy of work.
You already know which one you're acting like.
Stop cycling through tools you haven't used.
Stop ritualizing the prep stage.
Grab your 7-iron and play the course.
The work doesn't care about your system. It just cares that you show up and do it.