Go watch this video. I can wait; we’ll talk when you’re done.

 

This (along with other recordings of the piece) fascinates me.1 There’s a lot going on here, but what really jumps out at me is how important the possibility of failure is to so many things I do.2 I’ve been hammered on from multiple angles about this. Improv is an obvious source, but it’s hardly the only one. Group Genius talks about how we have to have room to fail in order to innovate. Scrum is big on the notion of learning from failure to improve on it. Mindset (which has a lot currency at work due to our CEO mentioning it in his monthly letter) preaches the notion that difficult obstacles are an opportunity for growth. Csikszentmihalyi says that we do our best work and achieve flow when we have high skill and a challenge equal to it. Even my friend Ryan has gotten into the act, talking about the necessity of understanding your limitations and yet not owning them.3

So yeah, this speaks to me.4 What does it say to you?

 

1 Thanks to Albert for the tip. Yet another cool thing from The Trappist.

2 Years ago, an ex-girlfiend of mine told me during our breakup how frustrating it was that I would never really do anything that I wasn't going to succeed at. I take this realization as a sign of how much I've grown since then.

3 And no, I haven’t yet listened to the Radiolab episode about limits, but I bet there’s something there as well.

4 So much so that I found myself wondering if I could learn to play string bass just so I could see how badly I would fail at Failing. Or succeed at failing. Or I suppose that means I would have succeeded at Failing…

 

One of the big messages of Group Genius is that innovation is about collecting and connecting small sparks of creativity, not about singular moments of revelation. One concept that is repeated over and over is that the key to having good ideas is having a lot of ideas and then figuring out which ones are good. Another is the notion that creative insights come from long immersion in the problem domain, followed by time off to reflect. While reading it, I came to realize I’ve been unknowingly trying to structure my time around both of these principles.

My approach to tackling the first idea is to try to stop questioning the value or quality of things I create. I’m trying to blog more in part because I know that forcing myself to write, even if most of the things I’m writing are glorified book reports, will eventually kick loose stuff I’m really happy with. Not being brilliant all of the time is price I have to pay to be brilliant some of the time, and I can live with that.

I’ve noticed myself doing two things that help with the second concept. First, I’ve found that I do my best work on a project when I work on it every day, if even it's just a little bit. Now, for every project I take on, I reserve at least thirty minutes every day to spend on it. If I can’t find that time, I have to pass on the project; experience tells me I'm not going to be able to do it justice. I’ve only started doing this recently, but it’s proven to be really powerful, and it helps me keep myself honest about what I really do and don’t have time for.

The other thing that I’m slowly realizing the value of is a small amount of unstructured, “thoughtless” time each day to let the things I’ve been thinking about coalesce. Washing the dishes is something I try to do every day, not just because it helps keep the house clean, but because it’s also a repetitive, almost hypnotic task that lets bits of my brain rearrange themselves. In the kitchen doing dishes has become my second-most-common place to have good ideas. (The shower is still king, but for pretty much the same reason.)

I listened to an old episode of the Radiolab podcast this morning that talked about priming and our increasing understanding of how the brain works. What I love about books like Group Genius is how they help me turn that understanding into something I can use to make mine work better.



Lisa Crispin and Janet Gregory in Agile Testing:

"Successful projects are the result of good people allowed to do good work."

 

My friend Rob suggested that I read The Checklist Manifesto. I did so. He then asked me questions about it, which I answer here:

What field were you looking to apply TCM to? Any examples of problems you hoped it would apply to?

I went into it with no real idea what it was about. All I had was your strong recommendation, based some of our conversations about (I believe) Made To Stick.

Do you think there's a meaningful difference between cockpit checklists and construction checklists?  Do you think this needed more exploration?

I'm undecided. Certainly what he found useful about them was different. In the case of construction checklists, he emphasized the communication component (the submittal schedule) rather than the "this is what you do" component (which is probably some variant on a Gantt chart). In the case of cockpit checklists, he emphasized the latter, which makes sense given the number of people involved.

One complaint I've heard is that it gives too little guidance on how to actually make a list.  Once that was called out I realized I was filling in gaps with my GTD knowledge, so I am not sure about this one way or another.  Your thoughts?

It certainly lives up to its "manifesto" claim in that regard: It presents a clear call for action, without really giving specific guidelines about how to it. That's not entirely true, as there's a few choice paragraphs in the "The Checklist Factory" chapter about what makes good and bad checklists. But there are too few concrete examples. Did you notice how the whole book is about the development of the WHO Safe Surgical Checklist, but the checklist itself is never included in the book? (If you're interested, it's here.) I certainly would have like to see examples of each of the types of checklists that he talks about it. He also talks about the need to test and refine new checklists; I would like to have seen before and after versions.

Do you think this idea has any real chance of penetrating the geek mindset?

I do think there are real challenges to adoption, as he identifies in "The Hero In The Age Of Checklists." As to whether those are overcome, your guess is as good as mine on that.

Now that you're done, how do you see yourself applying this?

Any book like this is like the cave in The Empire Strikes Back for me: What's in there is what I take with me. What I took with me was a lot of stuff about Scrum, since that's what I'm living in right now. There's a lot of resonance there: pushing authority out the people on the ground, insisting on regular communication to resolve problems, and following a checklist-like process to take care of the dumb stuff so that you can be smart. Plus, the inspect-and-adapt cycle of Scrum lends itself to the development of checklists. We'd already started to create checklists for the different types of stories we implement; I'm working on one now for estimation.

Beyond that, I see some potential for application in RPG design. As you pointed out, the end-of-session and end-of-year processes in Mouse Guard are basically checklists of this. They get you to stop and think about the right things, which ultimately is what the manifesto want you to do.

Does that answer your questions?

As someone who has been publicly recognized for my work, I often worry that if what I'm doing isn't recognized, how could it possibly be as good as what I did before? Is my best work behind me?

Yesterday I read this in The Artist's Way:

Fame is a spiritual drug. It is often a by-product of our artistic work, but like nuclear waste, it can be a very dangerous by-product. Fame, the desire to attain it, the desire to hold on to it, can produce the "How am I doing?" syndrome. This question is not "Is the work going well?" This question is "How does it look to them?"

The point of the work is the work. Fame interferes with that perception. Instead of acting being about acting, it becomes about being a famous actor. Instead of writing being about writing, it becomes about being recognized, not just published.

We all like credit where credit is due. As artists, we don't always get it. Yet, focusing on fame -- on whether we are getting enough -- creates a continual feeling of lack. There is never enough of the fame drug. Wanting more will always snap at our heels, discredit our accomplishments, erode our joy at another's accomplishment. [...]

What we are really scared of is that without fame we won't be loved -- as artists or as people. The solution to this is concrete, small, loving actions. We must actively, consciously, consistently, and creatively nuture our artist selves.

When the fame drug hits, go to your easel, your typewriter, your camera or clay. Pick up the tools of your work and begin to do just a little creative play.

Soon, very soon, the fame drug should start to lessen its hold. The only cure for the fame drug is creative endeavor. Only when we are being joyfully creative can we release the obsession with others and how they are doing.

Yep, that's about right.