Show Your Work!: 10 Ways to Share Your Creativity and Get Discovered

In Show Your Work!, organized around ten principles, Austin Kleon offers a practical alternative to traditional self-promotion for creative people of all kinds.

Kleon opens by acknowledging that the most common questions his readers ask concern how to get their work noticed and how to find an audience. He cites comedian Steve Martin's advice to "be so good they can't ignore you" and agrees in principle, but contends that being good is not enough: One must also be findable. He observes that the people he most admires have built sharing into their routines, openly posting bits of their work, ideas, and learning online rather than networking at cocktail parties. The book, he explains, is a beginner's manual for this approach.

The first principle dismantles the "lone genius" myth, the idea that a superhuman individual creates masterpieces in isolation. Kleon introduces musician Brian Eno's concept of "scenius," a model in which great ideas emerge from an ecology of talent, with artists, curators, thinkers, and tastemakers all supporting one another's work. He argues that the Internet functions as a network of interconnected sceniuses, accessible to anyone through blogs, social media, and forums, with no gatekeepers or credentials required. He champions the amateur, drawing on the word's French root meaning "lover," and argues that amateurs hold advantages over professionals because they experiment freely and share results without fear. He cites Zen monk Shunryu Suzuki's observation that the beginner's mind holds many possibilities while the expert's mind holds few, and notes that even professionals benefit from retaining an amateur's spirit. He illustrates the urgency of using one's voice with film critic Roger Ebert, who lost his physical ability to speak due to cancer surgeries and poured himself into blogging and social media, making online writing his primary means of expression. Ebert's experience demonstrates Kleon's broader point: In the current era, if work is not online, it effectively does not exist. The chapter closes with the recommendation to read obituaries every morning as a way to contemplate mortality and spur action.

The second principle distinguishes between the finished product and the daily process behind it. Kleon argues that the traditional instinct to keep process private is outdated in a digital age where sharing sketches, works in progress, and tools creates a unique bond with audiences. He illustrates with astronaut Chris Hadfield, who captivated millions during a five-month mission on the International Space Station by tweeting, posting photos of Earth, and filming videos of everyday tasks. Kleon advises readers to become documentarians of what they do, using journals, photographs, video, and smartphones. Even when one has no finished product to display, the scraps and residue of process can be shaped into something shareable.

The third principle urges consistent daily sharing. Kleon debunks the myth of overnight success, arguing that most success stories involve roughly a decade of hard work, and recommends focusing on the day as the smallest manageable unit of time. After each day's work, he suggests finding one small piece of process to share, with the content varying by stage: influences early on, methods during execution, and final products or lessons learned upon completion. He counsels against perfectionism but warns against oversharing, recommending what he calls the "So What?" Test: Before posting, ask whether the content is helpful, entertaining, and something one would be comfortable with a boss or mother seeing. He introduces writer Robin Sloan's adaptation of the economic concept "stock and flow" as a media metaphor: Flow is the stream of daily updates that remind people one exists, while stock is durable content that remains interesting over months or years. Small daily contributions compound over time. Kleon urges readers to register a personal domain name and build a website as a permanent online home, independent of social networks that may disappear. He cites advice musician Patti Smith received from writer William Burroughs to "build a good name," and applies the principle to the digital realm: A good domain name, maintained over time, becomes its own currency.

The fourth principle encourages sharing influences, tastes, and inspirations. Kleon draws an analogy to the Wunderkammern, or "cabinets of curiosities," of 16th- and 17th-century Europe, rooms filled with rare objects that displayed the owner's thirst for knowledge. He argues that sharing what one loves clues people in to who one is, sometimes more effectively than one's own work does, and urges readers to own all of their tastes publicly without self-editing for coolness. He closes with a firm rule on attribution: If you cannot properly credit something, do not share it. The most important form of online attribution, he notes, is a hyperlink to the creator's website.

The fifth principle holds that storytelling shapes how audiences perceive and value work. Kleon cites the Significant Objects experiment, in which writers invented stories for thrift-store trinkets on eBay, turning $128.74 worth of objects into $3,612.51 in sales. He challenges the cliché that "my work speaks for itself" and discusses story structure, recommending a three-act pitch for works in progress: the past (where you have been), the present (where you are), and the future (where you are going and how the listener can help). He extends this to everyday encounters, reframing the party question "What do you do?" as a chance to connect honestly and simply.

The sixth principle advocates teaching what one knows. Kleon illustrates with pitmaster Aaron Franklin of Franklin Barbecue in Austin, Texas, who openly shares his entire process in a YouTube series. Barbecue technique is simple to describe but takes years of practice to master, so sharing knowledge does not create instant competition. Teaching, Kleon argues, generates more interest in one's work rather than diminishing it.

The seventh principle warns against becoming "human spam," people who demand attention without investing in their community. Kleon contends that forward-thinking artists seek collaborators, not just fans, and illustrates with music producer Adrian Younge, whose casual Twitter question about two soul groups led a follower to connect him with William Hart, lead singer of The Delfonics, resulting in a collaborative album. He introduces "The Vampire Test," a method for identifying people, jobs, or activities that leave one feeling drained. The concept draws from a story about sculptor Constantin Brancusi, who refused to spend time with artist Pablo Picasso because Picasso sapped the energy of those around him. Kleon also uses baseball pitcher R. A. Dickey and the knuckleball brotherhood as a metaphor for finding true peers: Unlike other pitchers who guard their techniques, knuckleballers freely share tips to keep the rare and difficult pitch alive.

The eighth principle offers strategies for handling criticism. Kleon provides a framework that includes putting out lots of work to build tolerance, using criticism as fuel, and remembering that work is something one does, not who one is. He defines trolls as people interested only in provocation and recommends blocking them, deleting nasty comments, and even turning off comments entirely.

The ninth principle challenges the stigma of making money from creative work. Kleon argues that earning money does not corrupt creativity, noting that Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel ceiling on commission, novelist Mario Puzo wrote The Godfather to pay off debts, and Paul McCartney and John Lennon would set out to "write a swimming pool." He offers practical approaches including tip jars, crowdfunding, and traditional sales. He stresses building an email mailing list, arguing that email is old but durable, and counsels using success to pay it forward by supporting mentors, peers, and heroes. His guiding rule: Say yes to opportunities that allow more meaningful work, and no to those that offer more money but less of it.

The tenth and final principle argues for persistence, momentum, and renewal. Kleon introduces what he calls "chain-smoking": using the end of one project to ignite the next rather than pausing and losing momentum. Writer Ernest Hemingway stopped mid-sentence at day's end to know where to start the next morning; novelist Anthony Trollope began a new book if he finished one during his daily three-hour writing session. Kleon acknowledges the risk of burnout and advocates for sabbaticals, citing designer Stefan Sagmeister's practice of shutting down his studio every seven years for a year off. He stresses separating work from the rest of life. In the closing section, he urges readers to "begin again" when they feel they have learned everything from their current work, citing comedian George Carlin's practice of discarding all his material after each special and starting fresh. Starting over, Kleon reassures, does not mean losing prior work, because lessons learned always seep into what comes next. He directs readers back to the book's beginning: Become an amateur again, find something new to learn, share as you go, and pay close attention when the right people show up.