“Being remarkable is exciting and scary. The point is that it’s both.” — Seth Godin
Every organization needs people who follow maps — who execute known procedures reliably, who apply established practices consistently, who make the trains run on time. Maps are valuable. Without them, nothing would work at scale.
But maps can only take you through territory that has already been explored. Every time you encounter a situation the map doesn’t cover — and in creative work, interpersonal work, and complex problem-solving, this happens constantly — the map becomes useless. What happens next depends on whether the person facing the situation can make a new map.
Map-making is not mysterious or heroic. It is the willingness to look at a situation that doesn’t fit the established procedure and think: What does this specific situation actually require? What would be most helpful here, even if there’s no precedent for it? What would I do if I were responsible for this outcome, not just this task?
These questions are simple. Answering them honestly and acting on the answers — that is the work of the linchpin.
Map followers ask: “What is the procedure for this?” Map makers ask: “What does this situation actually need?”
Map followers wait for instructions. Map makers figure out what needs to be done.
Map followers succeed when everything goes according to plan. Map makers succeed when things go unexpectedly — because they’re the ones who can navigate new territory.
The shift from map follower to map maker is not about confidence or courage, exactly — it is about taking responsibility. The map follower can always point to the procedure they followed. The map maker takes responsibility for the outcome, not just the process.
Remarkable, in Godin’s vocabulary, means literally worth remarking about — worth talking about, worth sharing, worth noticing. It does not necessarily mean revolutionary or earth-shattering. It means distinctive enough that a reasonable person would mention it to someone else.
The bar is lower than you think — and higher than most people’s actual performance. Most work is interchangeable, forgettable, and adequate. Remarkable work is all of those things — except adequate. It’s the extra mile, the unexpected delight, the moment when the work exceeds what was expected.
Godin is emphatic that remarkable work is not reserved for artists, entrepreneurs, or innovators. It is available in any context:
Remarkability in these contexts is not about grand gestures. It is about the decision to care — to notice what the situation actually requires and to respond with the best you’re capable of.
Godin’s extended definition of art is central to this chapter. Art, in his usage, is not about medium or aesthetic — it is about intention, care, and genuine human connection.
When Godin says that a customer service call can be art, he means: it can be approached with the same intention that a painter brings to a canvas. The intention to create something real, something that matters, something that creates genuine value for the person who receives it. The intention to bring your full self — your judgment, your creativity, your care — to the specific situation.
This intention transforms the work. Not always the output (sometimes the canvas comes out badly, sometimes the customer is inconsolable) — but always the work. The experience of bringing your full self to something is intrinsically different from going through the motions, regardless of the outcome.
Godin is honest that being remarkable requires courage. Not the dramatic courage of physical danger, but the quieter and more persistent courage of being seen — of putting your genuine judgment, your real creativity, your actual opinions into the world and accepting that some people will not like them.
The lizard brain understands exactly why this is risky. When your work is average and forgettable, it can’t be criticized — average is safe. When your work is remarkable, it invites both praise and criticism. Some people will love it. Some people will hate it. And because you put yourself into it, their reaction to the work feels like their reaction to you.
This is the courage that the Resistance is designed to prevent. The Resistance says: stay average, stay safe, stay forgettable. The linchpin says: I’d rather be remarkable and vulnerable than safe and invisible.
Think of work you’ve done recently that you were genuinely proud of — work where you brought your full self and created something that exceeded expectations. What made it possible? What conditions need to be in place for you to consistently do that kind of work?