Lately, I’ve stopped rushing through books.
Instead of finishing one and jumping to the next, I’ve been reading several together & letting them speak to each other.
Because sometimes one book gives you the question, and another whispers the answer.

That rhythm reminded me of something; creativity is about seeing differently.
A shape, a shadow, a sound; each can be a form of language if you know how to read it.

In entrepreneurship, creativity is often defined as innovation.
But innovation is only the result.
Creativity is the lens.
And if you change the lens, the problem itself begins to transform.

Today, we’ll explore two powerful books that illuminate this shift:
“Creative Confidence” by Tom & David Kelley, and “The Art of Creative Thinking” by Rod Judkins.
Together, they remind us that creativity isn’t a gift, it’s a habit of noticing.

The Kelley brothers define creativity not as a spark of inspiration, but as an act of belief.

“Creative confidence is the belief that you can create change in the world around you.”

That belief, they argue, is more valuable than any technical skill.
Most people don’t lack ideas, they lack the confidence to trust them.

When I first read this, I thought about all the moments I wasn’t ready.
A product demo that turned spontaneous, a design that broke mid-presentation, a meeting where I had to improvise instead of perform.
Those moments were when creativity showed up, not as a plan, but as presence.

Kelley calls this “creative confidence”:

“When you believe in your own creative ability, you open up new possibilities.”

Creativity is less about thinking and more about believing you can think differently.
For founders, this is survival because building something from nothing is an act of faith long before it’s a business plan.

Entrepreneurship is dancing with uncertainty.
You rarely know the rhythm, but you move anyway.
And that motion, that willingness to begin before you’re ready; is creativity.

In The Art of Creative Thinking, Rod Judkins argues that creativity isn’t the act of invention, but the art of perception.

“Creative thinking is seeing what everyone else has seen and thinking what no one else has thought.”

We all look at the same world, but we don’t all see it.
A cracked wall is a flaw to some, a texture to others.
A shadow on the pavement can be a story if you decide it means something.

Judkins tells stories of Leonardo da Vinci’s sketchbooks, filled not with grand ideas, but with ordinary observations:
Clouds, water ripples, the veins of leaves.
To Da Vinci, every pattern in nature was a potential blueprint for something human.
The flow of a stream could inspire an aqueduct.
The twist of a branch could guide the design of a bridge.

In entrepreneurship, the same applies.
When you look at a chart and see a drop in user activity, most see failure.
But look closer, the shape of that drop might tell you where people lose focus, where the experience breaks.
That curve might be data’s way of speaking to you.

Judkins writes:

“Ideas are like water; they flow around obstacles, not through them.”

That’s just practical.
It means creative problem-solving isn’t about force, it’s about movement.
You don’t fight the wall; you find the space around it.

Words are powerful, but sometimes they trap us in logic.
When logic stalls, the hand can take over where the mind cannot.

Kelley calls it thinking with your hands.

“When you draw, build, or model, your hands help you think.”

I’ve lived this countless times.
When I can’t solve a problem, I stop typing and start sketching.
Lines, shapes, arrows, loops; chaos at first, clarity later.
A structure begins to form; a new path reveals itself.

Drawing externalizes thought.
It gives abstract confusion a physical form, and once you can see it, you can start to fix it.

For builders and developers, this isn’t art; it’s architecture of the mind.
Whiteboards, sticky notes, even napkin doodles... They’re all part of creative engineering.
Because creativity is not just about imagination; it’s about translation.
And sometimes, the shortest path from problem to insight is a line, not a sentence.

Both Kelley and Judkins return to one principle:
Creativity begins not with an answer, but with a better question.

Traditional thinking asks, “How do we sell more?”
Creative thinking asks, “Why do people want this?”

That small shift changes everything.
The first builds a strategy; the second builds a story.

Judkins quotes Picasso:

“Others have seen what is and asked why. I have seen what could be and asked why not.”

That “why not” is the birthplace of innovation.
When you reframe the question, you reshape the solution.
And when you reshape enough questions, you end up reshaping entire industries.

Many people still confuse creativity with aesthetics but creativity isn’t about beauty, it’s about reframing.

It’s what lets a founder look at a constraint and see a feature, or a developer see elegance in a line of code.
It’s what turns “failure” into a feedback loop.

Think of how ants distribute resources in a colony; no leader, no hierarchy, just adaptive flow.
Now think of decentralized liquidity networks.
Different field, same logic.
That’s creativity: connecting distant dots until they start to make sense together.

As the Kelley brothers put it:

“Don’t think of new ideas. Think of new connections.”

The creative founder doesn’t chase novelty; they synthesize meaning.
They don’t ask, “What’s never been done?”
They ask, “What do I see that others ignore?”

Frankl taught us that meaning transforms pain.
Taleb taught us that chaos educates.
Newport taught us that silence strengthens.
Kelley and Judkins teach us this:
Creativity unites all three.

To be creative is to listen to what the world is quietly suggesting.
To recognize that not every answer needs words; sometimes, a pattern is enough.

“Inspiration is everywhere, but only those who look closely can hear it whisper.”

Every line, every shadow, every empty space carries information.
The creator’s task is not to invent it, but to interpret it.

Entrepreneurship, then, isn’t a battle of intelligence, it’s a practice of attention.
Because most breakthroughs aren’t found; they’re noticed.

Developing creativity is about cultivating presence.
To slow down enough to actually see what’s around you.
To stop asking, “What should I do next?” and start asking, “What am I missing?”

Real creativity begins in silence; in the pause between what you expect and what you suddenly perceive.

Look again at that sketch, that product flaw, that odd metric spike.
It might not be a mistake.
It might be the shape of your next idea, waiting to be recognized.

Because sometimes, the solution isn’t in the code, or the data, or the plan; it’s hidden quietly between the lines.

Lately, I’ve stopped rushing through books.
Instead of finishing one and jumping to the next, I’ve been reading several together & letting them speak to each other.
Because sometimes one book gives you the question, and another whispers the answer.

That rhythm reminded me of something; creativity is about seeing differently.
A shape, a shadow, a sound; each can be a form of language if you know how to read it.

In entrepreneurship, creativity is often defined as innovation.
But innovation is only the result.
Creativity is the lens.
And if you change the lens, the problem itself begins to transform.

Today, we’ll explore two powerful books that illuminate this shift:
“Creative Confidence” by Tom & David Kelley, and “The Art of Creative Thinking” by Rod Judkins.
Together, they remind us that creativity isn’t a gift, it’s a habit of noticing.

The Kelley brothers define creativity not as a spark of inspiration, but as an act of belief.

“Creative confidence is the belief that you can create change in the world around you.”

That belief, they argue, is more valuable than any technical skill.
Most people don’t lack ideas, they lack the confidence to trust them.

When I first read this, I thought about all the moments I wasn’t ready.
A product demo that turned spontaneous, a design that broke mid-presentation, a meeting where I had to improvise instead of perform.
Those moments were when creativity showed up, not as a plan, but as presence.

Kelley calls this “creative confidence”:

“When you believe in your own creative ability, you open up new possibilities.”

Creativity is less about thinking and more about believing you can think differently.
For founders, this is survival because building something from nothing is an act of faith long before it’s a business plan.

Entrepreneurship is dancing with uncertainty.
You rarely know the rhythm, but you move anyway.
And that motion, that willingness to begin before you’re ready; is creativity.

In The Art of Creative Thinking, Rod Judkins argues that creativity isn’t the act of invention, but the art of perception.

“Creative thinking is seeing what everyone else has seen and thinking what no one else has thought.”

We all look at the same world, but we don’t all see it.
A cracked wall is a flaw to some, a texture to others.
A shadow on the pavement can be a story if you decide it means something.

Judkins tells stories of Leonardo da Vinci’s sketchbooks, filled not with grand ideas, but with ordinary observations:
Clouds, water ripples, the veins of leaves.
To Da Vinci, every pattern in nature was a potential blueprint for something human.
The flow of a stream could inspire an aqueduct.
The twist of a branch could guide the design of a bridge.

In entrepreneurship, the same applies.
When you look at a chart and see a drop in user activity, most see failure.
But look closer, the shape of that drop might tell you where people lose focus, where the experience breaks.
That curve might be data’s way of speaking to you.

Judkins writes:

“Ideas are like water; they flow around obstacles, not through them.”

That’s just practical.
It means creative problem-solving isn’t about force, it’s about movement.
You don’t fight the wall; you find the space around it.

Words are powerful, but sometimes they trap us in logic.
When logic stalls, the hand can take over where the mind cannot.

Kelley calls it thinking with your hands.

“When you draw, build, or model, your hands help you think.”

I’ve lived this countless times.
When I can’t solve a problem, I stop typing and start sketching.
Lines, shapes, arrows, loops; chaos at first, clarity later.
A structure begins to form; a new path reveals itself.

Drawing externalizes thought.
It gives abstract confusion a physical form, and once you can see it, you can start to fix it.

For builders and developers, this isn’t art; it’s architecture of the mind.
Whiteboards, sticky notes, even napkin doodles... They’re all part of creative engineering.
Because creativity is not just about imagination; it’s about translation.
And sometimes, the shortest path from problem to insight is a line, not a sentence.

Both Kelley and Judkins return to one principle:
Creativity begins not with an answer, but with a better question.

Traditional thinking asks, “How do we sell more?”
Creative thinking asks, “Why do people want this?”

That small shift changes everything.
The first builds a strategy; the second builds a story.

Judkins quotes Picasso:

“Others have seen what is and asked why. I have seen what could be and asked why not.”

That “why not” is the birthplace of innovation.
When you reframe the question, you reshape the solution.
And when you reshape enough questions, you end up reshaping entire industries.

Many people still confuse creativity with aesthetics but creativity isn’t about beauty, it’s about reframing.

It’s what lets a founder look at a constraint and see a feature, or a developer see elegance in a line of code.
It’s what turns “failure” into a feedback loop.

Think of how ants distribute resources in a colony; no leader, no hierarchy, just adaptive flow.
Now think of decentralized liquidity networks.
Different field, same logic.
That’s creativity: connecting distant dots until they start to make sense together.

As the Kelley brothers put it:

“Don’t think of new ideas. Think of new connections.”

The creative founder doesn’t chase novelty; they synthesize meaning.
They don’t ask, “What’s never been done?”
They ask, “What do I see that others ignore?”

Frankl taught us that meaning transforms pain.
Taleb taught us that chaos educates.
Newport taught us that silence strengthens.
Kelley and Judkins teach us this:
Creativity unites all three.

To be creative is to listen to what the world is quietly suggesting.
To recognize that not every answer needs words; sometimes, a pattern is enough.

“Inspiration is everywhere, but only those who look closely can hear it whisper.”

Every line, every shadow, every empty space carries information.
The creator’s task is not to invent it, but to interpret it.

Entrepreneurship, then, isn’t a battle of intelligence, it’s a practice of attention.
Because most breakthroughs aren’t found; they’re noticed.

Developing creativity is about cultivating presence.
To slow down enough to actually see what’s around you.
To stop asking, “What should I do next?” and start asking, “What am I missing?”

Real creativity begins in silence; in the pause between what you expect and what you suddenly perceive.

Look again at that sketch, that product flaw, that odd metric spike.
It might not be a mistake.
It might be the shape of your next idea, waiting to be recognized.

Because sometimes, the solution isn’t in the code, or the data, or the plan; it’s hidden quietly between the lines.