
Forget the "creative genius" myth. "How to Fly a Horse" reveals creativity as ordinary, accessible work requiring persistence through failure. Kevin Ashton's game-changing perspective has inspired innovators worldwide. What if your next breakthrough is simply waiting for your patient, determined effort?
Kevin Ashton, author of How to Fly a Horse: The Secret History of Creation, Invention, and Discovery, is a technology visionary and innovation expert renowned for coining the term “Internet of Things.”
Blending insights from his groundbreaking work at MIT’s Auto-ID Center—where he pioneered RFID technology and developed the Electronic Product Code—with his experience as a serial entrepreneur (Zensi, EnerNOC), Ashton explores creativity and human ingenuity in this genre-defying book.
His writing, featured in the New York Times, The Atlantic, and Quartz, distills complex ideas into accessible narratives. A sought-after speaker, he has shared his contrarian perspectives at events like PTC LiveWorx and influenced global tech policy.
How to Fly a Horse won the 2015 Business Book of the Year award from 800-CEO-READ and has been celebrated for reshaping how organizations approach innovation.
How to Fly a Horse debunks the myth of innate creative genius, arguing that innovation arises from ordinary, incremental efforts. Kevin Ashton uses historical examples—like the Wright brothers and Rosalind Franklin—to show how collaboration, persistence, and problem-solving drive breakthroughs. The book emphasizes that creativity is a universal skill accessible through hard work, not a rare gift.
This book is ideal for entrepreneurs, artists, educators, and anyone seeking to demystify creativity. Ashton’s insights are valuable for teams aiming to foster innovation, individuals facing creative blocks, or readers interested in historical case studies of invention. Its practical advice applies across industries, from technology to the arts.
Yes—readers praise it as a compelling blend of inspiration, history, and actionable advice. Reviewers highlight its fresh perspective on creativity, calling it “one of the best books you haven’t read” for its balance of storytelling and practical frameworks. It’s particularly recommended for skeptics of the “lone genius” narrative.
Ashton defines creativity as an ordinary, iterative process involving problem-solving and persistence. He rejects the idea of “eureka moments,” arguing that breakthroughs like the Wright brothers’ airplane or DNA discovery resulted from accumulated small steps, not innate talent. Creativity, he asserts, is a universal human trait.
Failure is framed as essential to innovation. Ashton illustrates how setbacks provide critical feedback, using examples like Thomas Edison’s repeated experiments and Rosalind Franklin’s perseverance in DNA research. The book encourages viewing failure as a necessary step toward solutions, not a final outcome.
Key examples include:
The myth claims creativity is a rare, innate gift reserved for “geniuses.” Ashton argues this belief stifles innovation by discouraging ordinary people from pursuing ideas. He contrasts this with real-world examples of creators who succeeded through systematic effort rather than divine inspiration.
The book highlights how innovations—from the first airplane to DNA’s discovery—rely on building others’ work. Ashton stresses that no creation happens in isolation, citing teams like Jobs and Wozniak at Apple and the collaborative nature of scientific research.
Unlike works focusing on “brainstorming” or innate talent, Ashton’s book grounds creativity in historical rigor and actionable processes. It complements titles like Atomic Habits (systems-driven growth) and Grit (perseverance), but stands out for debunking romanticized creation myths.
Some critics argue Ashton underplays the role of individual brilliance or serendipity. However, most praise his evidence-based approach, with one reviewer noting, “The book’s strength is its rejection of simplistic narratives in favor of nuanced, real-world examples.”
As a technologist who coined “the Internet of Things,” Ashton blends historical analysis with firsthand innovation experience. His entrepreneurial insights and MIT research lend credibility to the book’s arguments about collaborative, incremental creation.
저자의 목소리로 책을 느껴보세요
지식을 흥미롭고 예시가 풍부한 인사이트로 전환
핵심 아이디어를 빠르게 캡처하여 신속하게 학습
재미있고 매력적인 방식으로 책을 즐기세요
Creativity is not magic.
The truth is that creating is ordinary, not magical.
Creation is everyone's birthright.
The soul of creation isn't magic or genius-it's work.
The evolutionary niche of new belongs to all humans.
How to Fly a Horse의 핵심 아이디어를 이해하기 쉬운 포인트로 분해하여 혁신적인 팀이 어떻게 창조하고, 협력하고, 성장하는지 이해합니다.
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A forged letter from 1815 claimed Mozart composed entire symphonies in his head, effortlessly transcribing perfect music onto paper. We want to believe this story-that creativity is a gift bestowed on the chosen few, arriving in magical flashes of inspiration. But here's what actually happened: Mozart worked obsessively, revised constantly, and needed his instruments to compose. He struggled. He erased. He rewrote. The myth persists because it's comforting to believe that if we're not geniuses, we're simply not creative. This convenient fiction lets us off the hook. The word "creativity" didn't even exist until 1926, when philosopher Alfred North Whitehead coined it to describe something mystical and rare. Meanwhile, the reality tells a different story entirely. A twelve-year-old enslaved boy named Edmond Albius solved a problem that had stumped botanists for centuries. Using a bamboo toothpick, he figured out how to hand-pollinate vanilla orchids-a technique still used worldwide today. His innovation wasn't born from genius but from careful observation and experimentation. What makes Edmond unusual isn't that he created something-it's that history actually remembered his name. Most creators remain invisible, their contributions absorbed into the fabric of progress without acknowledgment. The numbers don't lie. The U.S. Patent Office took 130 years to grant its first million patents but only 8 years for its sixth million. Copyright registrations exploded from 5,600 in 1870 to over 600,000 by 1991. Scientific papers increased tenfold between 1955 and 2005. When we actually start counting creators, they're everywhere-nearly as many Americans received first patents in 2011 as attended a typical NASCAR race. This isn't a story about rare genius. It's a story about human nature itself. Lewis Terman tried to prove otherwise in 1921 with his "Genetic Studies of Genius," tracking over 1,500 California children identified as gifted by IQ tests. His "Termites," as they were called, should have changed the world. Instead, many found ordinary jobs. Meanwhile, the kids Terman rejected-William Shockley and Luis Alvarez among them-went on to win Nobel Prizes. Genius doesn't predict creative ability because it isn't required for creation.
Karl Duncker's "Candle Problem" revealed no sudden "aha!" moments-just people trying familiar approaches, evaluating results, and gradually working toward solutions. Psychologist Allen Newell proposed something radical: creative thinking is simply specialized problem-solving behavior. No magic. No special DNA. Just work. We love stories about Archimedes shouting "Eureka!" or Coleridge claiming "Kubla Khan" came fully formed in a dream. These tales are mostly fiction. When researchers test "incubation theory"-the idea that stepping away from problems leads to breakthroughs-experiments consistently fail. What works? Showing up daily. Wassily Kandinsky's "Painting with White Border" looks spontaneous. X-ray analysis reveals five months of planning and twenty preparatory sketches. James Dyson built 5,127 prototypes before creating his successful vacuum cleaner. "I'm a huge failure because I made 5,126 mistakes." That's not modesty-that's how creation actually works.
In 1994, five-year-old Jennifer faced a recurring tumor with no conventional treatment left. Her last hope was Judah Folkman, who theorized tumors could be starved by blocking their blood supply. The medical establishment savaged him-journals refused his papers, grant committees denied funding, the hospital cut his salary and ended his surgical career. Folkman persisted through "repetitive failures" until a contaminated experiment revealed a fungus blocking blood vessel growth, eventually saving Jennifer's life. Time is creation's most precious resource. When a psychology professor contacted 275 famous creators for interviews, two-thirds declined-not from rudeness, but because every "yes" costs creative output. Charles Dickens understood: "Whoever is devoted to an art must be content to deliver himself wholly up to it." Ignaz Semmelweis discovered doctors were killing mothers by not washing hands between handling cadavers and delivering babies. His protocol dropped mortality from 18% to 2%. The establishment rejected him anyway, insisting "a gentleman's hands are clean." He died in a mental asylum, beaten and forgotten. Rejection isn't personal-it's an evolutionary reflex protecting us from change. The world resists new ideas by design. The answer isn't avoiding rejection but expecting it, persisting through it, and recognizing that resistance validates you're creating something genuinely new.
In 1979, pathologist Robin Warren discovered bacteria in a patient's stomach-something medical textbooks declared impossible. For two years, colleagues dismissed his findings. When gastroenterologist Barry Marshall joined him, they found these bacteria in 90% of ulcer patients. Their work proving that Helicobacter pylori causes ulcers earned them the Nobel Prize and revolutionized treatment worldwide. The remarkable part: these bacteria weren't invisible. Thousands of pathologists had seen them since 1875 but dismissed them because they contradicted established "facts." This is inattentional blindness-our brains filter heavily based on expectations. Pedestrians on phones miss unicycling clowns; radiologists overlook gorilla images in lung X-rays despite looking directly at them. Expertise is efficiency. Chess grandmasters evaluate fewer moves than amateurs, eliminating poor solutions before conscious awareness. But this selective attention blinds us to unexpected possibilities. In 1960, Zen master Shunryu Suzuki introduced "beginner's mind"-shoshin-a master's mind that notices everything without assumption. "In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's there are few." True creativity requires becoming an expert, then becoming a beginner again-deep knowledge combined with fresh perception.
In April 1958, Rosalind Franklin was buried in London while her tobacco mosaic virus model displayed at the World's Fair. She died of cancer at thirty-seven, her contribution stolen by three men who claimed her glory. James Watson, Francis Crick, and Maurice Wilkins raced to discover DNA's structure while Franklin worked methodically at King's College. Despite placing first in Cambridge's chemistry entrance exam, she couldn't become a university member - women were merely "students," not scientists. On May 1, 1952, Franklin became the first human to see "the secret of life." Image 51, captured with her personally designed camera, revealed DNA's double helix - a spiral staircase showing how life reproduces through unwinding and replication. Maurice Wilkins showed her photograph to Watson and Crick without her knowledge. The three men won the Nobel Prize, never acknowledging Franklin's contribution. The recognition system remains rigged. Harriet Zuckerman discovered this interviewing Nobel laureates, who admitted receiving disproportionate credit for group work - she called this the "Matthew effect." Every creator inherits concepts, tools, and methods from thousands of others. Recognition matters less than contribution. Your work's impact extends far beyond any award, rippling through countless lives in ways you'll never measure.
After midnight on April 12, 1812, Luddites attacked William Cartwright's mill with sledgehammers called "Enochs" - ironically named after Enoch Taylor, who invented both the hammers and the looms they destroyed. These weren't anti-technology simpletons but desperate workers fighting obsolescence. Neither they nor their aristocratic allies foresaw that automation would eventually benefit workers most while undermining aristocratic power entirely. The Amish offer a model for thoughtful technology adoption. They use solar panels, LED lighting, and computers - but carefully avoid technology connecting them to the non-Amish world. As Amish leader Elmo Stoll notes, "new is neutral" - neither inherently good nor bad, but with complex consequences affecting people differently. Technology brings unforeseen dangers. Lead in glass decanters caused gout in Benjamin Franklin and may have contributed to Rome's fall. Yet Cartwright's loom threatened mental work by using punched cards to "think" - essentially the first programmable computer. Automation created demand for sophisticated workers who could read, maintain machines, and manage operations - transforming European literacy from one-third in 1800 to nearly universal by 1900. The answer to technology's problems isn't less innovation but more - an infinite iteration where new solutions create new problems inspiring further solutions.
In March 2002, Woody Allen broke his decades-long Oscar boycott to support post-9/11 New York. Despite three wins and seventeen nominations, he'd never attended, calling awards "silly" - accepting positive judgments means accepting negative ones too. Psychologist Teresa Amabile's research confirms this: people expecting evaluation produce significantly less creative work than those creating for their own sake. Robert Johnson's legendary crossroads deal captures a deeper truth about commitment. After his wife died in childbirth, he devoted himself completely to music. Six years of obsessive practice transformed him into a Delta blues virtuoso who changed music forever before dying at twenty-seven. This crossroads represents the moment every creator must commit fully, refusing all distractions. Writer's block isn't neurological - it's a myth born from believing in the "aha moment." Woody Allen's productivity disproves this: 49 film scripts, 8 plays, and countless other works in under 60 years. His secret? Use every moment and create for intrinsic motivation alone. The Ilongots of the Philippines understood success through beya (knowledge) and liget (passion). Passion with knowledge creates love and creation; passion without knowledge breeds destruction. Unfulfilled passion creates a void that manifests as addiction or despair. We are not vessels waiting for inspiration - we are engines of creation. The world doesn't need your genius. It needs your persistence, your beginner's mind, your willingness to fail repeatedly. Stop waiting. Start creating. Today.