After about six months, with my help, Sabrina managed to move into Number One when a room became vacant. She was upstairs and I was in a room downstairs. One day, I got bored of all the chat with no action, so I said, ‘Let’s do a five-year plan.’ My plan was to write better songs, put a band together and get a record deal. I had no idea how I was going to do it, so step one of my plan was to find a manager. I can’t remember all the details of her plan but there was definitely an incredible book at the end of it. Straight away I started working on my plan by writing songs and hanging out in places where I thought other musicians and managers would be.

By then I no longer worried what others thought of my musical tastes. From my DJ stint at college, to my role booking bands as ENTS Officer at Teesside, I discovered all types of music, from A-ha to Aerosmith. I would read the NME and Melody Maker religiously every week. On evenings and weekends I sang with a jazz band from east London I’d met through an advert in the NME classifieds. I would also do small gigs with the band’s guitarist in local bars like the Brixtonian. I learnt jazz standards like ‘Autumn Leaves’ and ‘Summertime’ that were a good grounding for my voice, teaching me how to sing properly. I learnt to sing by listening to the greats: people like Sarah Vaughan, Ella Fitzgerald, Nat King Cole and Dinah Washington; singers who had big, thick voices, wonderful phrasing and voice control, one-take kings and queens. I’d sing in my house, my kitchen, the street, everywhere. I wrote songs all the time, dissecting those I heard on the radio, copying the structure: verse, chorus, verse, middle eight, out. I recorded some melodies on my tape recorder, because my head was bursting with tunes.

Jimmy Page and Robert Plant were fortunate that Led Zeppelin generated a lot of economic fuel to do their music. Without question, most of the people in our study made a lot less money over their lives than the Zeppelin guys. Yet the basic pattern is essentially the same: Once people clicked into frame with something that they were encoded for, it lit a fire that burned so hot that they flipped the arrow of money in service of doing it. Even if they made more money than they knew what to do with, like Robert Plant and Jimmy Page, their fire for the work continued to burn within.

7. Fog

Micheal J. Fox and Maurice White emerged on the other side of the fog in very different places because they were very different people with different encodings and different answers to the question of what fed the inner fire. White would have likely been both unhappy and ineffective if he’d tried to do what Fox did, just as Fox would have been unhappy and ineffective trying to do what White did. On the last day of his life, not long after his 74th birthday, White and the writer Herb Powell talked, as they did often while collaborating on White’s compelling and revealing memoir, My Life with Earth, Wind & Fire.

When Graham came across a particularly good one, she’d write “nugget” alongside the golden find. They did this for years, until they’d accumulated a great big pile of gleaming nuggets. Only then— after six years of culling documents, doing interviews, making transcriptions, and sifting for nuggets— did Graham make the definitive decision to write the book, which would take her another eight years to finish and publish. Graham would receive a Pulitzer Prize for her book at age 80.

12. Feeding the Inner Fire (and Doing Great Work Late)

Toni Morrison didn’t write Beloved and Jazz, two of the books highlighted in her selection for the Nobel Prize, until well past the midpoint of her life; she published Beloved at age 56 and Jazz at age 61.

Robert plant garnered 86% of his 21 Grammy nominations, and all eight of his wins, after the age of 50. As I write this in 2025, Plant continues his creative work (in his mid-70s), and it is entirely possible that he will bring forth more award-winning music.