On Special Projects.

Special projects start with a feeling of 'not quite clicking'.

'So, do you have any special project ideas?'

This one sentence at the end of a meeting is the most terrifying. Because it's usually empty inside. The idea that because it's empty, the possibilities are infinite—like an amateur's false bravado—is what corners people the most.

And so, my internal special project meeting begins again this week.

First of all, the name 'special project' is annoying. 'Special'? What is? Who is? From where? It makes you want to ask. The moment you call it 'special', it's already 'ordinary'. The word 'project' is the same. It's mostly a reflection of someone's anxiety. They want to do something because they're afraid it will be buried if they just do it normally. But that 'something' isn't decided. It's that kind of sugarcoating.

But well, I've been fed by that 'something' for many years. I hate it, but I'm used to it. I'm used to it, but I want to hate it a little more—that's the kind of relationship it is.

First of all, a special project can't work unless you 'work backward'.
You decide on the goal, work backward toward it, and paint the path in reverse. But most people try to 'wing it', so they end up rolling their eyes and collapsing halfway through.

'Just keep the camera rolling and something will happen.'

It doesn't happen. Especially not for me.
In the first place, I haven't lived a life expecting 'something to happen'.
A person who sits in the corner of the classroom, not talking, just quietly scraping the corner of their desk with a ruler, has no way of making 'something' happen the moment the camera starts rolling. In fact, 'nothing happening' is my greatest weapon.
…or so I say, but that doesn't make for a project yet.

So, what do I do?

First, I focus on things I've 'always been obsessed with, but no one understands'.
For example, for me, it's 'how to tie a plastic shopping bag', or 'the gritty atmosphere the moment a baseball broadcast goes into extra innings', or 'the back of someone wearing earphones in a cafe is strangely noisy'.

Points that no one else cares about, but only I am obsessed with.

Whether you can turn this into 'laughter', convert it into 'empathy', or use it as a hook for 'emotional involvement' is what usually determines the project.
It's not about 'large-scale pranks' or 'desert island survival' or things like that. 'Big things' don't matter. You take out the 'small but sharp thorn' inside you and sharpen it into a shape that can prick others. This is the crux of a special project.

For example, something like 'a special project where I go on a location shoot with a female announcer I have zero chance of ever being asked out by, and just endure the 'awkward silence' all day'.

Nothing really happens. But the viewers read the drama into it on their own.
They 'emotionally involve' themselves on their own.
In other words, a 'special project' also means relying on the 'viewer's power of imagination'.
You don't have to work hard; you just need to create a form where they get excited on their own.

When you can do that, the burden on your side is greatly reduced.
That's a reduction in burden comparable to the day you buy reading glasses.

Even so, the people above say:

'Don't you have a more punchy special project?'

Punchy? Do you mean that in the sense of a serious fight?
Visual impact?
Something like 'Hellish Training Camp! A special where you're seriously lectured for 24 hours'?
No, no. That's not it.
What I want to put out is something that 'doesn't pack a punch at all, but hits you later'.
Not immediate effect, but delayed effect.
In terms of compresses, not a cooling gel sheet, but a medicated patch.

Something that looks like an unremarkable project at first glance, but later you think, 'Huh, that's been stuck in my memory in a subtle way...'

But those kinds of projects don't get the numbers 'in that moment'.
So even if I propose them, they don't get approved.
But I do them.
It's a matter of pride now.
I decide on my own that it's a 'special project' and do it at my own expense.
And write about it on note later.
And it unexpectedly goes viral.

It didn't pass on TV, but it's well-received on social media.
When that happens, the proposal that didn't pass back then gets re-evaluated two years later.
I have no choice but to prove to myself that 'now' isn't everything.
This, too, is part of a special project.

In other words, a special project is also the work of:
'Planting something that no one understands at that moment' so that,
'It will pierce everyone later'.

To make that possible,
First, you must acknowledge your own 'strange habits'.
Believe in the 'angle' that only you care about.

And above all—
Believe in the 'imagination of the receiver'.

Because true 'specialness' is,
'Someone else taking someone's ordinariness and treating it as special on their own'.