Turbo charging a creative workshop – we all need to lean forward

When I was a kid, we had an old dark green XR8 Falcon sedan with a “turbo” button on the dashboard.

It didn’t do anything. But us kids didn’t know that.

On long car trips, when boredom set in and the complaints started rolling in, Dad would casually say, “press the turbo button. It’ll make the car go faster.”

One of us would eagerly hit the button. And like magic, the car went faster.

Of course, I finally figured out what was actually happening was far less exciting. Dad timed it perfectly. The pressing of the button, which was right by his side, coincided with hitting the highway, or a stretch of road where he could speed up.

But we didn’t know that. And we loved it.

We thought we were contributing and getting us to the destination faster.

Another family friend had a different trick. She had an old Datsun, which was older than her. Whenever we were driving up a steep hill, she’d tell us all to lean forward in our seats.

“Come on,” she’d say.

“Help the car make it up the hill.”

We’d gleefully lean forward, fully committed to the cause, convinced we were making a difference.

Clearly, we were not. But again, that wasn’t the point.

Aside from the fact that I spent a lot of my childhood being transported in old bombs, those moments have stuck with me for a reason.

They’re a perfect illustration of something we often forget as adults.

People don’t just want outcomes handed to them. They want involvement. Particularly when it comes to creative problem solving.

That instinct doesn’t disappear when we grow up. It just gets dressed up in more professional language.

I see this play out constantly in creative workshops, strategy sessions and campaign ideation.

The sessions that fall flat are usually the ones where participation is tokenistic. A few voices dominate. Ideas are “presented” rather than built. People are asked for input too late, or not at all.

Or worse yet only the decision makers are in the room – who all think the same.

The sessions that work feel very different.

Everyone is invited in early. Ideas – good and bad – are built collaboratively. People are given permission to contribute.

And that changes everything.

Just like the turbo button (go on, press it).

More from the blog

In 1957, the famous surrealist artist Salvador Dalí appeared on the American TV game show What’s My Line? The premise of the show was simple. A panel asked Yes or No questions to guess a guest’s profession. Usually, it took minutes. Jobs were tidy back then. You were a lawyer, a doctor, a writer and an actor. Dalí broke the game almost immediately.
In 1957, the famous surrealist artist Salvador Dalí appeared on the American TV game show What’s My Line? The premise of the show was simple. A panel asked Yes or No questions to guess a guest’s profession. Usually, it took minutes. Jobs were tidy back then. You were a lawyer, a doctor, a writer and an actor. Dalí broke the game almost immediately.

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