build your culture on the backs of butterflies

My favorite part of Adam Grant’s Think Again is an anecdote about drawing. 

Grant tells the story of an artist commissioned to draw a butterfly. The artist had no prior specialty in nature drawing or really in drawing at all. 

The first butterfly the artist produced was far from accurate. The wings were misshapen and patternless; the antennae were missing altogether. You could tell it was supposed to be a butterfly but you could also tell it wasn’t a faithful rendering.

Peers of the artist then weighed in and gave feedback on the original drawing - this first butterfly. They pointed out a variety of defects and ways a next draft could be improved.

The artist took another crack at it. The second butterfly was better in several ways but still not convincing. 

Peers came back again for another round of feedback, followed by the artist drawing again. They repeated the cycle five times. 

The last drawing was impressive. It was a persuasive, lovely capture of a butterfly. Not a simple cartoon of a slice of bread bisected with a hinge. The artist had created a legitimate drawing. 

With minimal incoming skill or practice, the artist arrived quickly at a strong version on the strength of peer feedback and incremental growth. 

The kicker: Grant reveals at the end of the anecdote that the artist in the story was a first grader.

I love this story. I love it so much I beat my last team over the head with it. (Gently, mostly). “First butterfly” became our corny phrase for first drafts of all kinds - rough memos, extemporaneous arguments in meetings, a rehearsal of a board presentation. 

Grant shares the story to emphasize the power of feedback and third party perspective. I dig that. But what magnetizes my attention is the first butterfly. The biggest leap in quality of the art was from nothing to the first butterfly.

The artist had to have the courage and community to try something new, difficult, and uncertain. Once he exercised that courage, his community had his back. They came in to prompt better versions of that work. Together, they got to that beautiful last drawing. 

None of this happens without the first butterfly. And the first butterfly doesn’t happen without 

• a) the artist’s emotional labor 

• b) leading to the artist’s decision to put pencil to paper 

• c) when he knows what he is about to create is going to be “bad.”

First butterflies “at scale” get me particularly fired up about this. A team where everyone has the courage and community they need to draw first butterflies is electric. That places crackles. People get things done, they take risks, they learn fast, they meet high standards in places they maybe don’t have any business operating in the first place.

As a leader, you can choose a first butterfly culture for your people. Model it for them - ship your own crummy first drafts, seek feedback on them, make them better. Point out when others on the team are doing this - point it out with praise and what might feel like a didactic connection to your team’s purpose. 

See that thing! That great thing that Zora just did! That was a first butterfly! When We All Do This we achieve the mission, folks. That’s the game we’re playing. Go play it.

-Eric