Tone, Place, Pace
SOAR's first framework
Hi! Before we dive in, please note that this is part of a 3-day series — here’s Day 1 and Day 3.
I’ve debated sharing my POV about AI on here. Some days, I think it’s worth getting into; other days, not. Today, I’ll share what I periodically use it for — entertainment and assessing its strategic competency. Fortunately for now, AI is more observational than insightful, but it’s getting better. (Unfortunately, the number of folks who understand what separates an insight from an observation will only worsen as we rely on AI for cognitive convenience.) I recently asked Claude if there are themes to SOAR’s writing style, and while most failed to impress, there’s one that entertained:
A framework-builder who distrusts frameworks. She’ll construct clean conceptual structures — like distinguishing reflection, synthesis, distillation, and intention as distinct steps — but always in service of encouraging presence and meaning, not productivity hacks.
my identity x strategy
Spend enough time with me and you’ll see how bashful I can get about my ability to create frameworks, not because they’re bad, but because I’m honestly not trying to do it. The way art flows out of an artist and a verse flows out of a poet, frameworks have a tendency to flow out of me. Among friends, this is one of my more endearing qualities, but I used to get a little self-conscious about it around people who don’t know me because it’s just one more puzzle piece some use to make inaccurate assumptions about me.
Frameworks are common outputs for the type of work I do — strategy. But strategy is a word/function/skill that many have come to interpret as formulaic and lacking humanity because many people do it poorly and in environments that lack spirit. It’s been bastardized to such a degree that I struggle at times to proudly associate myself with it, despite having a clear affinity for it.
I’ve come to own the fact that I’m rather good at strategy (it’s been quite the personal journey), but am only beginning to find comfort in expressing it; it’s easier to dissociate myself from people who are trying to be perceived(!) as good than cite those who are producing good. It’s why I have a cautious eye towards someone who owns/claims this word strategy, and am a harsh critic (of them and myself).
the thing about frameworks
It gives me both grief and relief to tell you that I think most aren’t very good. I don’t say this too loudly or broadly because I know people find utility in ones I deem crappy, so I’m careful to criticize (especially as one who creates them). But, just this once, I hope you’ll indulge me on why I commonly have issues with so many, so often:
They overcomplicate something or are so high-level that there’s too much room for failure. The purpose of a framework is not to re-organize information so that it looks or sounds nice; it’s to set you up for success (by way of ease) and help you home in on what truly matters. Many frameworks don’t have the depth (or teeth, as I tend to say) to cut through and create ease, so watching people use them is like watching someone hammer in a screw.
They’re just templates or processes. ugh, my pet peeve…in short, a framework guides how you think whereas a template or process standardizes what you do. (Case in point, that reflection-synthesis-distillation-intention structure that Claude referenced is a process, not a framework.)
They’re not versatile enough. A framework shouldn’t overpromise and underdeliver over time; if it does at scale, design flaw is to blame, not user error. Like any good template/process, a framework is a tool that should be there for you in a multitude of situations. Too many are engineered for just one, which makes it a circumstantial solution, not a framework.
critiquing a classic
One of the frameworks that illustrates the first and third points above is Stephen Covey’s Circles of Control, which can be found in his book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. Generally speaking, I celebrate his thinking but don’t recommend his frameworks; I’m mentioning it because a few SOAR readers know and like it, so maybe you will, too (more than the one I’m going to share with you).
There are a few interpretations of this framework based on whether you see there being two or three circles of concern and control. Here’s my interpretation in brief: Covey suggests that proactive people (his term, not mine) focus their energy on things they can control + influence instead of what they can’t (i.e., circle of concern). The circle of concern consists of things you care about but can’t control, whereas the circle of influence covers things you can affect (directly and indirectly, based on levels of control).
In all sincerity, is this not obvious? To me, this is a baby framework at best, as in a baby step to help people very early on in their journey have greater awareness and accountability of their place in whatever ecosystem they’re trying to exist in. But what if you are putting the wrong things in the wrong buckets? With that in mind, here’s mine…
meet Tone, Place, and Pace
You know how people tell you to focus on what you can control? In theory, that sounds great, but I think it’s only strong advice when you:
know enough about what it is that you should control (which ofc is subjective)
know what it is that you should not! (a piece that is often overlooked)
This is where I feel Covey’s framework falls short — it has structure but lacks real, guiding substance. Tone, Place, and Pace inverts and builds on it.
TONE is where I have full control: I believe I always have the power to set the tone; it’s completely within my ability. Whether or not people meet that tone is not up to me, but the choice with respect to how I set it is always mine. Though being a first mover has its advantages, it’s not required; you can always reset(!) it through your response.
PLACE is where I have partial control, and there are two sides to this.
Where I choose to set the tone is a choice I make (full control): Whether or not I like all of my choices is not up to me (see Important Note below), but my decision to set the tone ‘here’ vs elsewhere is mine (which is why it’s important to know what you’re getting into)!
(Important Note: This is when I wish people would reframe a sense of entitlement as empowerment.)Where people place me organizationally/narratively/etc. is a different story (partial control). Ideally, people meet me at or above where I believe I am; when there's a disconnect, that's when tone and pace do the work.
PACE is the outcome I choose to not control: Once I set the tone and choose my place, I find it best to trust the pace. Organic flow is more effective than inorganic force, making pace an outcome to optimize rather than an input or output to control.
A few things to note with this framework:
Two reminders with respect to pace: (1) reason is required, and (2) all good things take time. Strategic patience, as we say.
If you’ve been reasonable and things aren’t happening at the pace that you’d like, don’t force it. Instead, influence it by revisiting your tone and place. Re: tone, maybe there’s a disconnect between your intention vs execution (consider this a friendly reminder that consistent interpretation is more important than consistent articulation). Re: place, figure out what must-haves and nice-to-haves you need to stay where you are. I say this because many people are quick to jump ship without this clarity, only to find themselves in a similar place elsewhere.
At the center of every good framework is a POV, and embedded within this one is the belief that life is long(!); in game theory terms, it’s a multi-round game. Tone, Place, and Pace optimizes your position in and over time, but if you believe life is short and/or see decisions as single-shot plays, then this framework is not for you — you’re better off maximizing your outcome immediately and independently of tradeoffs.
origins and use cases
I was once up for promotion two years in a row and denied both times. When asked if I’d leave the organization, the only response that came to mind was “tone, place, and pace,” and just like that, this framework was formed. I didn’t see it as a framework at the time; it was just an answer to a question. But there’s a ring to some things, and the more situations I found myself in, the more I came back to these three words (to stay at a company, let go of a 15-year friendship, recover from a running injury, keep my hibiscus plant, among other things).
With respect to that promotion situation, I chose to stay for the time being. The company I worked at had a lot of institutional habits and biases, and the place the calibration team put me (i.e., not promotion-worthy) was one that I had long-seen coming; it was also something that I felt would improve with time, as my tone (through my work and how I showed up) was considered high-performing, per my performance evaluation. That, coupled with my overall experience, was net-positive in ways that then made the pace of my promotion a factor that I chose to accept by staying.
Are there ways in which I could have influenced the pace? Of course. I’m not going to go into them because I don’t recommend any of them, but I say this to acknowledge that there are ways in which you could fundamentally disagree with this framework. You could decide that pace is 100% within your control (for which I’d likely argue arrogance and/or delusion). This is why I struggle with Covey’s framework — because people could choose what’s in their circles of control based on what they want vs what is smart (which are not always in conflict, but I find that outside of tone and place, something likely will be).
Where conflict arises is often in whether the tone and place you choose aligns with the values/consequences that shape who you are and who you want to be. I see these choices as the most important inputs, ultimately impacting your overall sense of health and harmony.
So what’s the tone I set? I tell you in Day 3.