A while back, I wrote a post called “What’s Your Parlor Trick?” The idea was simple: every professional should have a five-minute demonstration of their skill that makes an important stranger say, “Oh, wow. Now I get it.” It’s the magician’s answer to the request, “Let’s see a trick.” It’s an outward-facing demo that proves your capability to others.

But what happens when the person you need to convince is yourself?

This is a different, and often harder, challenge. When we’re developing a new idea – a new business, a new project, a new strategy – we are our own first audience. And we are notoriously easy to fool. We can talk ourselves into believing a vague vision is a brilliant one.

People often come to me with an idea and ask if it would make a good book or a TED Talk. My answer is always the same: “I don’t know. Write it. Let’s see what the writing says.”

Sometimes you don’t know until you’ve tried the thing itself. Until you’ve prototyped. This is where we need to move from a demonstration of skill to a manifestation of the idea. In these moments, telling isn’t enough. We need to show. But this time, the trick is for us.

A couple of decades ago, I read the designer and leadership expert Keith Yamashita refer to a concept that perfectly captures this. He called it a “vision deliverable.” The idea is to stop talking and start making. Says Yamashita:

“Force yourself to produce ‘vision deliverables.’ To see holes in your vision, write it down. First articulations are difficult, but they’re painfully necessary. Force yourself to pen a brochure, or a script, or a major speech, or do anything that forces you to recount your vision to the outside world. You’ll immediately recognize its vulnerabilities. Then rework your vision so it can withstand the slings and arrows.“

This isn’t a parlor trick to impress a client. It’s a vision prototype; an internal tool for discovery. In fact, asking a client to prototype their fledgling idea in some form is a common homework exercise of mine. As Yamashita implies, you don’t wait until it’s bulletproof. You create the prototype precisely to find the holes. You show it to yourself and others to see what works and what needs to be fixed.

These prototypes can take many forms. For example:

• A city library that wants to become a hub for digital skill-building could create the course catalog for the first quarter, listing the specific classes and times.

• A healthcare system that wants to provide a truly patient-centric experience could write a “journey script” for a single patient, detailing every ideal interaction.

• A financial firm that wants to be the trusted source of advice for Gen Z could script a 60-second TikTok video explaining a complex topic simply and engagingly.

• A national park that aims to drastically reduce its environmental impact could design the new park map showing the routes for electric shuttles and new low-impact zones.

• A company that wants to be known for its legendary, proactive customer support could write an entry in the internal support playbook, detailing the exact steps an agent takes when a problem is detected before the customer calls.

This trick – the prototype, the mock-up, the first draft – is what you do for yourself. It’s how you find out what your vision is really made of.