If you look closely, you will find that the top people in all fields have one thing in common—which is that they don't have a lot in common. They all have found a highly personal way of getting things done. Whether they are working on a long-term plan or running and gunning in the heat of the action, they need a consistent way of getting through the day: an approach that suits them, and maybe no one else.

In my experience, the more brilliant the folks, the more they follow their own drummer in both style and substance. In fact, the style supports the substance. It is a strategic link. Investor Warren Buffett glories in his unpretentious Midwestern style. He eats at the local steakhouse and asks basic questions that can make high-flying executives squirm. He is slow and steady, always looking for unglamorous long-term value. He happily missed the highs and lows of the tech boom by avoiding entire industries (and balance sheets) that he did not understand. In contrast, Richard Branson is a thrill-seeking adventurer whose exploits promote his growing brand. His hot-air balloon emblazoned with the Virgin logo is a perfect fit.

Back in the day, the prolific Thomas Edison and his staff worked long and hard, but they had a lot of fun too. They took a break at midnight, playing the pipe organ, drinking beer, and singing songs. Along the way they invented the commercial laboratory and set the stage for the era of modern technology.

In a section called “Secrets of Greatness,” a recent issue of Fortune magazine looked at the work styles of a group of hyperachievers. The stories are full of small surprises. The introductory essay sounds a Taoist theme: It introduces the concept of “wu-wei,” which means “non-doing” or “effortless effort…a state in which the world seems to be working for us…hard work that does not seem hard… like the Aristotelian concept of happiness: the full exercise of the thing we are meant to be doing.” It's not such heavy stuff, really. Athletes call it “being in the zone.”

In the Fortune profiles, we learn that these folks have all created their own unique formulas. What works for lesser mortals doesn't necessarily work for them. On the surface, some of their activities may seem flaky.

A young vice-president at Google always has her laptop on. She does marathon e-mail sessions at home on weekends using a simple text-based Linux mailer that is way faster than Outlook. The TV is on too. The manager of a $200-billion bond portfolio doesn't have a cellphone or PDA. He goes to the gym every morning to do yoga and stand on his head. He says he gets all of his best ideas this way. The rest of the day he stares at giant Bloomberg screens, doing nothing most of the time, but when he moves, he moves markets.

A senior United States Court of Appeals judge who writes quickly has embraced digital technology that allows him to work at home. The head of Procter & Gamble has started watching his glycemic index by eating small snacks and walking around the office.

A side benefit: He realizes he is more in touch with his executives than ever. He also recently started meditating. On the home front, Harry Steele, the legendary founder of Newfoundland Capital Corporation Ltd., conducted his business at fishing lodges in Labrador, cultivating relationships with presidents of companies and even countries.

The big pattern is that there is no pattern. Most of the big wheelers and dealers talk for a living. Recently, I was in a semi-public space, and an older gentleman sitting across from me was using his cellphone to discuss a big real estate deal that had gone south. “It's so dead even the lawyers left the table,” he said.
When he hung up, we had a chat. He told me he went to work at age 13. His experience is vast, but he is slowing down. That cellphone is probably his most productive asset now. It didn't take him long to get that, I figure.