The Power of Paradox in Writing & Living

On Warrior Poets, Creative Collaborations, & Other Real Impossibilities

How do you learn to love when you’ve been trained to kill? This is a core question John Lovell aims to answer in his debut book The Warrior Poet Way, a sort of Jocko Willink meets Wild at Heart, if those references make any sense to you. And if they do, you might like the book.

Photo by 愚木混株 cdd20 on Unsplash

I had a wonderful time collaborating with John on this project, working with him in-person at his home in rural Georgia, surrounded by alpacas, his young boys, and a dog he told me he’d have to shoot in the head if it bit me—because that’s the only way you can get it to release its jaw. Anyway, it was like that. 

We talked about C.S. Lewis and Jordan Peterson, smoked cigars and drank IPAs and eventually got around to talking about our dads. He told me about working as a Christian missionary and serving in US Ranger Battalion in Afghanistan for multiple tours. He shared about swing dancing and romancing his wife, as well as his own insecurities and struggles with ego and writing multiple “death letters” to loved ones. “Life tastes sweeter to the man who’s faced death,” he said while we sat on his porch, watching the sun sink behind the Loblolly pines.

As a book collaborator, my job is to be a bit of a chameleon: not entirely invisible but one whose nature is to blend easily into surroundings. Sometimes, I have to speak up; other times, I need to shut up. And I never know when to do what. The process is rife with experimentation, attempts and failures, and corrections mid-project. Still, there are clear times to challenge the author and advocate for the book, regardless of the outcome. And of course, this can cause tension.

John was the most outspoken client I’ve ever worked with, dead-set on certain stances he refused to waver on. I imagine this is part of what makes a good soldier: a resolve to see any task all the way through without giving up. But, of course, there are times when flexibility is required, when a change in plan is necessary. Incidentally, he was also the most deferential person I’ve ever worked with—trusting the process all the way through, offering pieces of feedback when he felt they were necessary but siding with my opinions in matters where I clearly had more experience.

As a professional chameleon, I was constantly having to switch modes on this project: from listener to challenger to scribe to researcher to editor to friend. It was fun and rewarding but not without challenge. At times, his feedback was incisive. “I hate this,” he would write in the margins without explanation, leaving me to troubleshoot what was missing. A few lines later, he might be effusive, praising how well I captured his voice or brought home a point. Always, he was honest, and that came to be an important through line in our work together.

Early on in the experience, I told John I was nervous every time he called, because I thought he was going to yell at me. His seemingly combative attitude triggered something in me that wanted to hide, a boy-like response that had me cowering in the presence of an authority figure (despite the fact that we were the same age). This, juxtaposed with his warm smile and overall humility was confusing. He had fun with that for a while, starting each message with seeming critiques that almost always led to praise, like: “Jeff, I’m really disappointed… that you don’t realize how good of a writer you are.” Or: “I think this is terrible… that more people haven’t read what you’ve written.” 

It was like that, too. 

Managing the Paradox of Creative Work

For his part, in most matters, John was apologetic when disagreeing with me, saying things along the lines of, “I’m nervous to have you read this because I’m just a beginner at this stuff.” His insights, however, were often astute and led us both to clearer thinking and writing. His poetic contributions to the book (i.e. poems he actually wrote) made the final product something endearing, an honest articulation of its own message.

There was personal catharsis in the process for me, as well. I had to face some of my own insecurities, including the fear of not being good enough. Over time, I loosened up around my client and came to appreciate his no-nonsense approach to collaboration. There was something safe in his brashness; I always knew where he stood. Halfway through the project, I told him, “I am grateful you tell me what you think. It doesn’t hurt my feelings to hear you hated something. Because when you tell me you love it, I know I can trust that, too. It gives me something to aim at.”

Like its author, the book is a work of paradox, a confluence of warring energies every man has to wrestle with. How do you find a deep purpose that guides your life while not getting lost in the ego games of self-importance? Can you be kind and compassionate while remaining bold in your convictions, strong enough to lead those who might resist you? It was no surprise, as I had been delving into men’s work for the past few years, that these themes were being presented to me now. Every project has something to teach us if we let it, and those lessons always arrive at just the right time.

What should a man be in the twenty-first century? And who gets to decide what that means? These are some of the questions The Warrior Poet Way wants to answer. While working on the book, I was going through a process of recovering from divorce, re-earning my children’s trust and respect (as well as my own), and pursuing new love. I was also approaching forty and considering how I wanted the second half of life to look.

At times, I found myself arguing with John on certain points, working out these questions in my own life and challenging his perspective. Do we really need to talk about gender identity issues in a chapter about truth? Does this point apply to raising daughters, or just boys? And so on. Often, he would push back, doubling down on his stance, which intimidated me.

Over the year and a half we worked together, I eventually saw this affectation as a form of sparring, the very thing he was most accustomed to. I suppose when war is coursing through your veins but the fight is no longer clear and present, you’ve got to get your kicks somewhere. As it turns out, this was a central theme of the book: a man must always find some outlet for his aggression—and those can come in myriad forms: some healthy, others not. Occasionally, during these scuffles, John would relent to my challenges and say something curt like, “Fair.” Those moments always felt like small victories, which I received with a sly smile. 

As the title suggests, every man must be both warrior and poet, playful and dangerous, kind and cutting. To be a whole man, complete in one’s masculinity, is to accept his inner paradox. He is never done aspiring towards a higher ideal, one that will haunt his life. Overall, I’m proud of the work we did together: John playing more of the warrior pole and I leaning on my inner poet, but both of us passing those energies back and forth as needed. Always a near-impossible act of balancing conflicting opinions and motivations—like any creative collaboration.

Perhaps in another article, I’ll share what it’s like to work on projects with individuals I don’t always see eye to eye with (because I never agree with anyone entirely), and what these experiences teach me about writing and life. But for now, suffice to say that we are always working with people who aren’t exactly like us on projects that don’t always end up the way we think they will. That’s part of creative work. And that’s life. There is no other way to do it.

Anyway, be sure to check out John’s book, which is currently climbing the charts, and consider ordering a copy if the message connects with you or someone you care about. Certainly, as is the case with any book, it’s not for everyone. But it’s always for someone.

Putting Family First in Business

In other news, a belated congratulations to Steve Chou whose book The Family-First Entrepreneur debuted on the Wall Street Journal bestseller list and continues to reach new audiences each and every day. If you have any interest in starting an online business and aren’t a single twenty-something living in your parents’ basement (i.e. you have responsibilities and people counting on you), check out the book and everything else Steve has to offer.

It’s a treasure trove of practical wisdom for the ambitious soul who doesn’t want to work ninety-hour weeks and be a stranger to their loved ones but still has big dreams to accomplish. How do you love a family well while living up to your potential? It’s not easy, but you can find a balance that works. Steve shows you how he and many other “family-first entrepreneurs” do just that.

Working on this project helped me clarify a lot in my work and life and I’m sure it will do the same for you.

Leadership without the Leader

And finally, coming down the pike is another book I had the privilege of working on with a co authored team. Following the theme of paradox, Leadership is Overrated is a leadership book that extols the virtues of the collective over the genius of the individual. A collaborative partnership between a Navy SEAL and corporate executive, this book is about the power of culture and how with the right kind of team (what the authors call “self-led teams,”) everything goes better.

Full of stories ranging from Motown R&B artists to world-class military operations and everything in between, Chris Mefford and Kyle Buckett walk us through the process of flattening the structure of any organization and creating change from within. Building teams that win, according to them, has little to do with positional authority and everything with how well each member is empowered.

In most workplaces today, unfortunately, the standard top-down approach to management kills creativity and leads to unnecessary bottlenecks and bureaucracy. This book is a cure for that common malady and paints a picture of a better future. It comes out in a month but is available for preorder now. Check it out.

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And let me know in the comments: How do you manage the inherent paradox in creative work and collaborating with others?