Be Bright. Be Brief. Be Gone.
Originals: Essays
I’m indie writer Teague de La Plaine, author of the bestselling Sea at Sunrise and other stories. This is my weekly newsletter, where I talk about writing and self-publishing in addition to my own life. I keep the newsletter free, because I prefer you spend your money on my books.
High-stakes environments have a way of shrinking the world to the size of a pinhead.
Battlefield. Boardroom. Doesn’t matter. Your body doesn’t know the difference—it just knows something’s coming. The lizard brain kicks in, flipping the same ancient switches it’s been flipping since we were running from saber-toothed cats.
Adrenaline. Cortisol. Heart pounding. Palms damp. Tunnel vision.
It’s called the threat response, and it shows up in four familiar ways—the Four F’s:
Fight. Flight. Freeze. Freak Out.
Fight is the surge forward—you brace, push back, confront. Muscles primed, jaw tight, maybe a little too ready to swing (verbally or otherwise).
Flight is the urge to bolt. Get out. Avoid. Delay. Make excuses.
Freeze is the lockup—brain buffering, tongue tied, everything inside you screaming “move” while nothing moves.
Freak Out is the spin-out—panic, chaos, mental whiteout.
I’ve seen all of them in combat zones. I’ve seen all of them in conference rooms. The stakes feel different, but your biology doesn’t care. Stress is stress.
Here’s the thing: those primal responses aren’t “bad.” They’re survival mechanisms. But in a world where the “threat” is a five-minute briefing to a four-star or a high-pressure pitch to the C-suite, survival isn’t the goal—performance is.
The Three Words That Changed How I Handle Pressure
Years ago, I was about to give my first intelligence update to the Commandant of the Marine Corps and the Secretary of the Navy. Big room. Big audience. Career-defining, maybe career-ending if I blew it.
I could feel the weight of it pressing in—clenched stomach, sweaty hands, that buzz in the back of the skull.
Just before I stepped in, Lieutenant General Ronald L. Bailey pulled me aside. Calm. Steady. He looked me in the eye and gave me three directives:
“Be bright. Be brief. Be gone.”
That was it. No pep talk. No checklist. Just that.
And it cut through everything.
Those words became my anchor. I walked in, delivered what I had to deliver, and walked out with my head up. They’ve been with me ever since—from combat outposts in Iraq to Pentagon boardrooms, from classified war plans to executive strategy sessions.
Here’s why they work:
Be Bright – Know your stuff cold. No fluff. No filler. Clarity beats complexity every time.
Be Brief – Respect time. Get to the point. Nobody in a high-stakes room wants a tour of your brilliance. They want the point.
Be Gone – Deliver. Step back. Don’t cling to the spotlight. Confidence is knowing when you’ve done enough.
Finding Your Anchor
“Be Bright. Be Brief. Be Gone.” won’t be everyone’s anchor. Yours might be something else. A deep breath and a silent I’ve got this. A quick visualization of a calm place. A subtle squeeze of thumb and forefinger.
Doesn’t matter what it is. What matters is that it’s simple. Simple survives.
Because when the adrenaline hits, the prefrontal cortex—the part of your brain that does reasoning, planning, and articulate thought—starts to flicker. Complex strategies collapse under pressure. A short, practiced anchor bypasses the chaos and snaps you back to center.
That’s why I still use those three words today. When the stakes are high and the room’s gone quiet, I don’t think about every possible question, every potential flaw in my material, or every outcome. I think:
Be Bright. Be Brief. Be Gone.
And then I do the thing.
Your Turn
What’s your anchor? What do you tell yourself—or do—for focus when the heat’s on? Drop it in the comments. Share it with someone who could use it.
Because whether you’re briefing a four-star or walking into Monday’s staff meeting, pressure is pressure. The right anchor doesn’t just steady you—it gives you an edge.
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"Be Bright. Be Brief. Be Gone."
Short, to the point, and fitting. He gave you advice in exactly the style of the advice.