Have you ever tried to describe what you are actually good at, only to end up mumbling something vague about being a “people person” or “quite organised”?
Most of us are walking around with a jumble of skills, traits and odd little quirks that we never bother to piece together. Which is a shame, because that jumble is where the real magic lives.
Scott Adams called it a talent stack. Not one genius-level ability. Not a single golden ticket. More like a layered cake of skills where each layer makes the whole thing taller, sturdier and far more interesting.
The trick is to be in the top ten per cent at several things instead of fighting your way into the top one per cent at just one.
It is a brilliant idea. It also forces you to stop pretending you are a bland, standard-issue human who happened to fall into your job by luck. You’re not. You have a whole mess of abilities that combine in a way no one else can copy.
Even if someone had your skills, they wouldn’t have your exact mix. This is where you get your unfair advantage.
So let me ask you something. What is in your stack?
No need to panic. This isn’t a school exam. It is more like a treasure hunt through your own life. The forgotten hobbies. The weird jobs. The personality traits you think of as flaws but which secretly make you brilliant. The experiences that shaped how you think and work.
Once you start listing them, you will see patterns. You will see the places where your skills overlap and support each other.
You will also see gaps, which is fine, because talent stacks are living things. You can add to them whenever you like. They grow as you grow.
To make this feel less abstract, I’ll show you mine. This isn’t (I hope) bragging. It’s simply an honest look at what I bring to the table, and why my world seems to make sense despite looking like a collage of photography, community work, woodland management, and random chaos.
The first big layer in my stack is photography. Not just the technical side, although I do love a good lighting setup. What really sits near the top is the part that involves people.
Portrait photography demands something slightly strange. You need to be calm, curious and sharp at the same time. You need to read body language faster than you can read light.
Many people arrive at a shoot nervous. They confess they hate photos of themselves. They brace for impact.
My strength is helping them relax, helping them feel human again, and catching the moment where the guard drops. That skill sits right at the heart of everything I do.
Under that are the twenty years I spent as a Chartered Financial Planner and media spokesperson. You would think those two worlds don’t mix. But they do.
That old career gave me communication skills, confidence under pressure, and the ability to explain things without turning into a corporate robot. It also taught me how brands think and why first impressions matter.
All of this feeds directly into my photography work now. I don’t just take pictures. I think about what those pictures need to say.
Another layer comes from community leadership. I’ve been involved in local projects for years, from parkrun to village events to running a country park. I’ve managed volunteers, chaired meetings, written grant applications, dealt with councils, solved odd problems and tried not to lose my mind in the process.
These experiences sharpen your judgement. They teach you how to work with different personalities. They also teach you how to stay calm when everything seems to be on fire. That’s all very handy when you’re running a shoot with ten people pulling in ten different directions.
Then there is nature. Woodland management, conservation, wet feet, cold fingers and the quiet satisfaction of doing practical work outdoors.
This part of my talent stack keeps me grounded. It gives me patience. It teaches me to look properly, not just to glance. You can’t rush nature, and you can’t rush a good portrait either. Those two worlds feed each other in surprising ways.
Storytelling sits in the middle of everything. I write a lot, and I enjoy it. I like taking ideas and making them feel human.
Whether I am writing a caption, a blog post or a longer piece, I try to sound like a real person. This skill turns out to be incredibly valuable when you need to talk to clients, attract work or build trust. People understand stories. They relax when you tell one well.
And then there are the traits that never fit neatly into categories. Curiosity. A sense of humour that sometimes escapes supervision. A willingness to experiment. The absolute refusal to speak in meaningless jargon.
These things glue the whole stack together. They are the reasons I enjoy what I do and the reasons people enjoy working with me.
So that’s my talent stack. Not perfect. Not complete. Just mine. A mix of creativity, communication, leadership, nature, technical skill and the odd bit of joyful chaos.
Now it is your turn. What’s in your stack? What skills have you collected that make you you? And how could those pieces work together in ways you have not seen yet?
If you take a moment to map it out, you might discover you are far more capable and far more interesting than you ever realised. Which is the whole point.
The talent stack doesn’t ask you to be a genius. It asks you to be yourself, but with the edges coloured in.
And that is where the good stuff happens.
