👋 Hi fellow dumdums,

Ever wonder why your best ideas show up in the shower, but not in front of your boss?

It’s not because your shampoo has performance-enhancing properties. (Though if it does, I’d like the link.)

It’s because no one’s watching you in the shower. Hopefully.

When we’re alone, we stop trying to sound smart. We stop editing ourselves mid-thought.

We let the idea come out half-baked, slippery, and wrapped in a towel — and somehow, it’s brilliant.

But in front of other people? Especially people with lanyards and job titles?

We freeze.

We rehearse.

We default to the safest, most forgettable version of whatever we were going to say.

Because here’s the real issue:

We’re not actually afraid of failing. We’re afraid of looking dumb.

And that fear?

It’s the reason a million good ideas stay locked in our heads — quietly humming next to the conditioner.

How to Outsmart Your Fear of Looking Dumb

(Without actually becoming dumb. Unless that helps.)

So how do we fix this?

How do you convince your grown-up brain — the one that uses words like “optimization” and owns at least one reusable water bottle — to stop self-editing and let the weird, possibly brilliant stuff out?

You trick it.

You distract it with play.

You build it a tiny stage where being ridiculous is allowed — even applauded.

Here’s how:

1. Give yourself 90 seconds of licensed idiocy.

Stanford psychologist Carol Dweck found that when people focus on growth instead of performance, they take more creative risks and recover faster from flops.

So try this: before your next brainstorm, set a timer for 90 seconds. Say out loud every dumb, half-baked, borderline-illegal idea that pops into your brain. No judgment. No filtering. No PowerPoint slides.

Just say them.

Aloud.

To a person. Or your dog. Or your phone’s voice memo app.

Most will be trash. Some will be terrible.

And one might be a doorway.

2. Use a Dumb Alter Ego.

This is one of my go-to moves from Dumbify:

Invent a character who is definitely not you — someone with zero fear of embarrassment and questionable credentials.

Then blame all your ideas on them.

“That’s not me talking — that’s Carl. He once tried to cook rice with a flashlight.”

There’s actual research behind this.

When people adopt a different persona (even just for fun), it creates psychological distance — and that distance makes it easier to take risks, break patterns, and stop caring so much what other people think.

You’re not being judged. Carl is. And Carl doesn’t read the comments.

3. Say the idea you don’t want to say. That’s probably the one.

That idea you had in the meeting last week that made you think,

“If I say this, I’ll never be invited to another meeting again”?

That’s the one.

Studies from the Kellogg School of Management show that people who voice unconventional opinions — even if they’re imperfect — are seen as more creative and confident than those who say nothing.

So go ahead.

Pitch the absurd thing.

Ask the question everyone’s dancing around.

Say the line that feels like a joke but might actually be genius.

If nothing else, it’ll snap people out of their Zoom faces.

Want another trick? Talk to a kid. Seriously. Kids ask questions that make adults deeply uncomfortable. Like:

“If we’re standing on Earth, what’s Earth standing on?”

“Why do we have eyebrows?”

“If you’re so smart, why do you keep losing your phone?”

They don’t filter.

And once you stop laughing, you’ll realize — it’s kind of a great starting point.

Dumb Word of the Day: Zugzwang

(noun) A situation where every possible move is a bad one, but you have to move anyway.

It’s a German chess term, but also describes roughly 80% of adult life.

You're in zugzwang when:

• You’re in a meeting, and it’s your turn to talk, but the only idea you have involves puppets, time travel, or both.

• You either say it, or nod politely and hope someone else is brave enough to suggest the exact same thing, slightly louder.

• Spoiler: no one is.

Used in a sentence:

“I was in total zugzwang: either pitch my idea for edible business cards or admit I had nothing. So I said it. They clapped. I think ironically.”

Moral of the story?

Sometimes looking dumb is just the toll you pay to say something interesting.

Say the thing you were about to swallow.

Today, pick a moment — in a meeting, a text thread, a Zoom call, your own brain — and catch yourself mid-self-edit.

Notice the idea you were about to say… and didn’t.

Then say it.

Don’t apologize for it. Don’t preface it with “This might be dumb, but—”

Just say the thing.

Let it live in the world, wobbly legs and all.

Worst case? You sound a little weird for 12 seconds.

Best case? You unlock the thing nobody else was brave (or dumb) enough to say.

That’s how it starts.