Hello Reader,

There’s a moment in our relationship with time when efficiency stops being the problem.

The systems work. The habits hold. The work gets done. And yet something feels thin. The question shifts from “How do I get more done?” to “What am I actually responsible for?”

That’s where auteurship enters.

An auteur takes responsibility not just for making the work, but for its intent, its shape, and the time it demands. Not output alone—authorship.

Auteurism is often misunderstood as control. In practice, it’s a high-risk relationship with time.

When it goes right, time is treated as a collaborator—not something to dominate.

Filmmaker Stanley Kubrick is the familiar example. Long timelines. Relentless patience. From a productivity lens, it looks excessive. From a productiveness lens, the time serves coherence rather than speed.

When auteurism goes wrong, the problem isn’t effort—it’s imbalance.

Orson Welles, another (in)famous filmmaker, shows how vision can outrun infrastructure. And when authorship goes entirely unchecked—when judgment erodes—you get motion without meaning, something that did happen with Kubrick and is a territory I explored in last week's edition of The Lantern through yet another infamous filmmaker, Tommy Wiseau.

This matters beyond art.

Auteurship—like productiveness—is not a right. It’s an earned position.

It’s earned by knowing when to wait and when to act. By respecting constraints without being ruled by them. By remembering that time, collaboration, and reflection aren’t obstacles—they’re partners.

The auteur doesn’t try to control time. They cultivate a relationship with it.

Look

In this video, Hank Green challenges the familiar advice to “follow your dreams,” suggesting instead that we pay attention to the tools and skills we already have and actively develop the ones we need. Rather than chasing an elusive vision, he invites us to ground our next steps in what we can learn, build, and refine — a practical perspective on focus, time, and progression that resonates with how meaningful work actually unfolds. Watch it here.​

Listen

In my conversation with Marshall Goldsmith, we talked about The Earned Life and the idea that fulfillment isn’t something you arrive at—it’s something you keep earning through the choices you make and the responsibility you’re willing to carry. That framing maps closely to auteurship as an orientation toward time: not optimizing for outcomes, but deciding what’s worth the cost, the patience, and the risk, even when nothing is guaranteed. Listen to it here.​

Learn

In this essay on auteur theory, Tennyson Stead pushes past the romance of singular vision and into its consequences—arguing that auteurism fails when control replaces craft, and when one person tries to carry more specificity than a human mind (or timeline) can sustain. What emerges is a powerful reminder that meaningful work doesn’t live inside individuals but in the space between capable collaborators, shared intent, and restraint. It’s a sharp companion to the idea that auteurship—like productiveness—isn’t about doing everything yourself, but about taking responsibility for the environment, the people, and the time required for the work to become what it’s meant to be. Read it here.​

The Final Flicker

Productivity asks how much you can do. Productiveness asks what you’re willing to answer for.

Auteurship lives there—in the choices that cost more time, demand more care, and can’t be rushed without losing their meaning.

Not everything needs auteurship. But when something does, the responsibility has to be earned.

See you later,
Mike

P.S. We just wrapped the live edition of The READY Retreat. In the time we made, auteurship—as an orientation rather than an outcome—quietly came into view. The full replay is now available inside the membership, which starts at $14/month. Click here to learn what else the TimeCrafting Trust community has to offer.​

Thanks for reading. Your time is valuable, and I don’t take it for granted. In a world pulling us in all directions, thanks for choosing The Lantern.