i used to kill my best ideas before anyone else could.
you know that feeling when an idea hits you and your chest gets tight with excitement? when you can see it so clearly in your mind that it almost feels real already?
i’d get that feeling, sit with it for maybe five minutes, then immediately reach for my phone.
“hey, what do you think about this?”
and then i’d ask another friend. and another. and someone else in the industry.
each person had a different opinion. so i’d adjust. then ask someone else. adjust again. repeat.
by the time i was “done,” the idea that made my heart race was now safe. boring. dead.
the initial sauce? gone.
i have a specific example to share with you today
Some community housekeeping before the rest of the letter (skip over this block if you’re not interested):
my branding has updated our branding quiz for anyone who wants quick and free snapshot of how their brand is doing. your personal results will be emailed to you after finishing the quiz with some guides as well.
i’ve combined a list of my best newsletters from last year. you can access them here and read in your own time.
our website will be up soon with all our 2025 branding projects with case studies. super excited to share that. we’re aiming for a mid-February launch so I’ll update you
now, back to business.
the feedback trap (my story)
here’s how it started.
in the early years of running my branding studio, I had almost zero confidence in my ideas.
we’d create concepts that felt fresh and exciting, but we didn’t trust ourselves enough to just present them. so we developed this little ritual. before any client presentation, we’d send our ideas to friends in the industry.
we told ourselves we were being thorough. getting expert input. being professional.
but really? we were seeking permission, not feedback.
let me tell you about one project that still haunts me, TO THIS DAY
we were working on a rebrand launch party for a new youth STEM program. the brand had this golden retriever as their mascot. part of the company’s history, super beloved.
the idea hit me one day: what if we brought the actual dog to the party?
not just any appearance. the dog would show up in custom brand apparel and hang around the event. guests would get to interact with the living, breathing mascot. we’d make provisions for allergies, make sure the dog is friendly, set up a designated area, the whole thing.
i could see it so clearly. kids would lose their minds. parents would take photos and post online. the brand awareness from this alone would be insane.
but it sounded a little ridiculous. and new. and a little risky.
so i asked everyone lol.
every friend who would lend an ear got a version of “okay hear me out, what if we brought the dog?”
and every single person had notes.
“that’s a lot of logistics.”
“what about people who are scared of dogs?”
“seems complicated.”
“maybe just use the dog in the logo?”
with each conversation, i adjusted the idea. watered it down even more and made it a lot safer.
by the time we presented to the client, the idea had been diluted into a couple of nice backdrops with pictures of the dog.
the client loved it. after all, they trusted our team to deliver great campaigns.
and so we executed it. we had a great time. and overall, it was fine.
but we didn’t get nearly the brand awareness i’d imagined. it was just another company branding event. you know those typical boring ones that don’t last too long and everyone is just waiting for the reception.
fast forward a couple years.
i’m catching up with that same client, and somehow the conversation turns to that launch party.
and then they mention, almost casually: “you know, we would have loved that idea even more, if you’d pitched bringing the actual dog. that would have been amazing.”
my stomach dropped.
that’s when it hit me.
i had diluted that idea. and probably dozens of others over the years. not because the ideas were bad. but because i didn’t trust them enough to let them breathe.
and it didn’t stop at work. this pattern bled into every single creative thing.
anytime i had an idea for a personal project, a new approach to something, even just trying something different, i’d ask for feedback first.
instead of just doing it and seeing what happened, i’d poll my friends until the excitement died.
the initial sauce, that thing that made the idea feel alive, would evaporate before i even started.
i’d trained myself not to trust my own instincts, and my own creativity.
the real reason i kept asking
i started realizing that what i called “getting feedback” was actually something else entirely.
it was using other people’s opinions as a shield.
if i asked everyone and they all said the idea was good, then if it failed, i could say “well, everyone thought it was solid.”
but if i trusted myself and it failed? that was terrifying.
that meant my idea failed. my judgment was wrong. i was exposed.
so i kept asking. kept adjusting. kept diluting.
the thing is, constructive criticism is good. genuinely helpful feedback from the right person at the right time can make your work stronger.
but there’s a difference between feedback that sharpens your idea and feedback that kills it.
and i’d been confusing the two for years.
so i tried something different.
i started trusting my ideas first.
the new approach: create something, refine it internally with my team, and then maybe get targeted feedback from one or two specific people who understood the vision. or sometimes? just trust it and go.
it was terrifying at first. presenting an idea that i hadn’t run by ten people felt like walking into a room naked.
but something interesting happened. clients responded differently. better. with more excitement. the work had a point of view. a distinct flavor. the sauce that made it ours.
and here’s the paradox: our work got better when i stopped asking everyone what they thought. because novel ideas don’t make sense to everyone at first. that’s what makes them novel.
if everyone immediately agrees with your idea, it might be too safe. too expected. too much like everything else already out there.
the market doesn’t reward consensus approved ideas. it rewards unique perspectives. the golden retriever at the party? that would have been memorable. different. the kind of thing people talk about.
the backdrops with photos? safe. forgettable. fine. boorrinnngggg
what i learned about feedback
your ideas are yours for a reason. you have to believe in them 100%.
not because they’re always going to be right. not because you’re infallible. but because dilution kills what makes them special.
yes, trusting yourself means more risk. if your idea fails, it’s your idea that failed. that’s vulnerable. that’s scary.
but here’s the flip side: if it succeeds, it’s your idea that succeeded. and more importantly, innovation only happens when someone trusts their weird idea enough to actually do it.
so how do you know when feedback helps versus when it hurts?
here’s my framework:
good feedback clarifies your idea. it makes the execution stronger while keeping the core intact. it helps you see blind spots in the how, not the what.
bad feedback makes you question the core. it dilutes the unique angle. it turns your idea into something “safe” that could have come from anyone.
and here’s the key: only ask one or two people max. people who understand your vision and can strengthen it, not change it.
ask after you’ve committed to the idea yourself, not before.
because if you’re asking for permission, you’ve already lost the sauce.
i know a lot of you reading this have an idea right now.
something you’re excited about but also a little scared of.
something that feels different enough that you’re not sure if it’ll work.
and you’re probably thinking about who you should ask. who can validate it for you. who can tell you it’s okay to try.
but here’s the truth: your ideas don’t need everyone’s approval.
that weird idea you have? the one you’re afraid to share? that’s probably the one worth pursuing.
a lil constructive criticism is good. but too much feedback will kill the thing that makes your idea special.
you already know what to do.
the ideas that scare you a little? those are the ones worth believing in.
trust yourself.
bring the dog to the party.
- Mike