Some mediums are steeped in tradition and mastery oriented.

The map to success there is very clear. Practice your scales, play loads of rep, spend years studying the masters, and you will arrive at a marked destination.

Say, however, as a violinist, you want to take on writing a wholly new kind of music. You then explore genres — latin, jazz, folk, country, drum and bass, etc. Each of those genres has their own map. Their own guide posts for performing in the style so you pick up a few more and follow the maps as far as you'd like to go.

Once it comes time to write, though, the maps disappear.

There are perhaps other people you can gather inspiration from, they can tell you the paths they took, the rivers forded, and the shortcuts they found. But, at some point, it's time to let go of map following and brave the forest.

What guides you then?

Having followed a few maps, you likely have some skill in navigating tough thickets and rushing rivers. Direction, however, is not so clear.

At this point, it's time to reach for a compass. An intuitive, unseen force gives direction without showing the way.

It's risky. A direction doesn't guarantee a destination. A cluster of stars only suggests what could be on the other end of sailing a certain way.

But that's where the adventure is.

Unlike solely map following, there is no final destination. The journey becomes the destination. And the road goes ever on.