I would like to be more intentional about how I consume media. Here are some thoughts on how I might do that in the coming year.

Read the Eternities (via)

Focus my reading on classical writing, not modern writing

Books first

Books are the complete thought meal (Tim Sanders). Films can be good as well, but leave less to the imagination. Video/tv is the least considered and most ephemeral.

70/20/10 rule

• Time: 70% pre-1900, 20% 1900s, 10% 2000s
• Media: 70% written word, 20% films, 10% tv/video
• Reading: 70% books, 20% magazines/journal articles, 10% news/opinion

Balance media with life

Media should be a relatively small part of life…80% life, 20% media (meta-life)?

Balance consumption with production

80% production, 20% consumption?

Think in the morning, act in the noon, eat in the evening, and sleep at night. – William Blake

(I read this originally as “read in the evening”, which likely works better for me than Blake, given the miracle of incandescent light).

Don’t start the day with someone else’s thoughts (via)

It’s the only chance you’ll have to think your own.

So, what might this look like in practice? All of these 80/20 or 70/20/10 ratios are terrifically arbitrary, but they’re an interesting starting point.

• 16 waking hours each day
  • 20% media = 3 hours
    • 80% production = 2 hours, 26 minutes
    • 20% consumption = 34 minutes

Of those 34 daily minutes:

• 70/20/10 eras = 22 minutes pre-1900s/7 minutes 1900s/3.5 minutes 2000s
• 70/20/10 media = 22 minutes writing/7 minutes film/3.5 minutes tv/videos
  • Of the 22 minutes writing: 15 minutes books/5 minutes magazines/journals/2.5 minutes news/opinion/blogs

Now, pre-1900s is really only books, so that would wipe out the entire “writing” allocation, leaving no room for magazines, journals, or opinion, or for anything since 1900. And you wouldn’t really watch video news from any other era than the present, so the 3.5 minutes on the 2000s would be all video news. So some wiggle room is necessary.

Still, the rough daily schedule is something like: 22 minutes reading classic (pre-1900s) books, 7 minutes watching a film, and 3.5 minutes catching up on the news.

That’s not much time! And it’s hard to imagine watching a film 7 minutes each day. So let’s expand it to a two-week scale: 5 hours reading books, 1 1/2 hours watching a film, and 45 minutes catching up on news. That would roughly correspond to 1 300-page book (at a thoughtful rate of 1 page/min) and 1 film every two weeks, and 45 minutes on blogs/news catchup.

The era breakdown is probably best spread out over time, so that you’d tackle one book or movie at a time rather than splitting your attention between several. So at a rate of 26 books per year, you’d have 18 pre-1900s books, 5 from the 1900s, and 2-3 from the 2000s. Your 26 movies, being mostly from the 1900s and 2000s, could be split more evenly, and perhaps given their rapid evolution give half (13) from the 1900s and half from the 2000s. (Having just reviewed my Netflix queue, I’m tempted to give even more emphasis to recent films. Movies from the mid-80s don’t carry the same weight as Plato’s 2000-year-old dialogues).

How would you practice this? It seems important to first have a set of items that you are interested in consuming in the near future. I keep a massive Amazon wishlist of things I’m interested in, so I’ll need to prioritize from that a set of 18 pre-1900s books, 5 1900s books, and 2-3 2000s that I will actually tackle. Same exercise with films from my Netflix queue.

Next is to set aside the time for consuming and producing. A daily time for reading seems right, as does a biweekly time for a film. News or blogs could be done as either a daily check-in (3.5 minutes! What tools would make that possible?) or as a biweekly binge (might help prioritize what’s really important). Experimentation is probably necessary here.

Producing is a more nebulous area, but setting aside an hour to write each morning, and perhaps one afternoon a week to film or write something longer, would be a good use of that time. And, similar to consuming, keeping a list of things I’d like to produce–and scheduling them–would make sure I’m ready to go immediately.

So, given that I started with those arbitrary numbers, how does this look?

The first big ratio was “80% life, 20% media (meta-life)”. Is it right to spend a fifth of my waking life on media? Well, the average America watches 5 hours of television each day (almost a third of their waking life), and my combined internet and video consumption is probably at least that much. So slimming down to “just” 20% actually seems like a good first step, and I enjoy books and films enough that I’m happy to start there.

The producing/consuming ratio is the part I’m least clear about. Is producing media really 4 times as important as consuming it? Worth spending 2 1/2 hours a day? How would I even do such a thing? Well, blogging is a part of it, and personal journaling could be considered media production as well. Beyond that, it would be interesting to blend more rich media production, creating video or music on a variety of topics. This is something that is subject to big change given experimentation, however. The thinkers I most respect, however, are tremendously prolific in their writing and filming–even if they are not “professional” writers or filmmakers. So there’s something in this media production craft that seems worthwhile.

And the 20% consumption is not the limit of all media I’ll see. Media is a part of many other parts of life (that other top-level 80%), and if movies, books, or the internet are included in my work or social life I consider that separate. Watching a movie with friends is socializing, not “consuming”. But I hope to be more intentional about the things I personally choose to consume on my own time.

Here’s the schedule I’m going to start with during my sabbatical:

• 1 hour of writing daily
• 30 minutes of book reading daily (~1 book every 2 weeks)
• 5 min blogs & news daily (5 min catchup at the end of the day)
• 1 filmmaking or long writing session each week
• 1 film watching session every 2 weeks

I’ve also separated my media wishlists (Amazon & Netflix) into the appropriate categories:

• Pre-1900s books (targeting 18/year)
• 1900s books (5/year)
• 2000s books (2-3/year)
• 1900s films (13/year)
• 2000s films (the rest of my Netflix queue; 13/year)

Thoreau said that we should “be careful what objects and what subjects we thrust on [our] attention.” Hopefully my new media diet is an appropriate mix! I’ll check in later with an update…

It seems that if you hope to design things that cut to the heart of the human experience, you’re better off drawing inspiration from classical stories and literature than contemporary work. Something that remains relevant hundreds or thousands of years after its writing is a better foundation for meaningful work than the latest tech blog post.

Again: read not the Times; read the Eternities.

“We should treat our minds, that is, ourselves, as innocent and ingenuous children, whose guardians we are, and be careful what objects and what subjects we thrust on their attention. Read not the Times. Read the Eternities.” – Henry David Thoreau, Life Without Principle

I’m very interested in the intersection of fiction (written or filmed) and design, and while science fiction icon Bruce Sterling said recently that “design has more to offer fiction at the moment than literature has to offer design”, I’ve found it extremely valuable as a designer to learn from both writing and the writing process.

The other day I caught up with a friend who had recently completed a screenwriting class. He described his writing process to me and it had many parallels to the conceptual design process.

First, he said, he determines where the story starts and ends. From these two points, he can build up the rest. It’s tempting to tell yourself “I just need an idea, a start or a finish, and I’ll figure out the rest later.” But without a start and a finish, you don’t have a unique story yet and your work is likely to wander aimlessly. His first project had only a beginning, and he ended up scrapping the script because it didn’t have anywhere to go. It’s also much easier to try out very different stories when they are simply a pair of beginnings and endings than when you are writing a full script for each version.

In concept design, design principles are analogous to the script’s start and finish. They provide a high-level view of what you want the experience or product to be like, or to accomplish. They are much easier to experiment with than fully-realized products or even prototypes, and without them your solutions will be all over the map.

Next, my friend creates the first section of his story, from the beginning to the main character’s first turning point–for instance, when Luke Skywalker first discovers Princess Leia’s plea for help while cleaning R2D2. Sitting down, he tries to bang out a treatment for this first section in a single sitting. This helps him see if the setting and characters are good enough to support action, dialogue, and getting the plot to the desired end point.

After finishing, he sets that treatment aside and does something else for the rest of the day. The next day, he returns to his station, but instead of picking up the draft from before, he begins a brand new version. Without trying to consciously repeat or avoid anything from the first version, he simply writes another draft of the scenario, then sets that aside as well. After 3 or 4 versions, the best elements have generally persisted while the extra stuff disappears, and he has a solid section of the story. He repeats this process for each subsequent section until he has a full draft.

Concept design benefits from a similar process. Apple famously uses a “10 to 3 to 1″ process where their designers create 10 separate, equally-detailed and -viable design concepts for each new feature. I talked yesterday to Ford’s head of interior design, and he cited a similar process for physical prototypes–”so many different versions you can’t even count”. Later in the development phase, of course, you want to drive toward convergence, consistency, usability, and feasibility. But early on you shouldn’t be stingy with the concepts–keep them fast and loose, and make sure you cover as broad a range as possible.

A friend asked where I learn about new books to read, so I dug into my recent Amazon purchases (where they are all bought) to find out:

• Sum: http://futuryst.blogspot.com/2009/03/alternative-afterlives.html
• Anathem: http://www.kottke.org/08/08/neal-stephensons-anathem , http://kk.org/ct2/2008/08/neal-stephenson-and-the-10000y.php
• The Evolution of God: http://www.kottke.org/09/05/the-evolution-of-god
• Idealized Design: http://noisebetweenstations.com/personal/weblogs/?p=1957
• Shaping Things: http://www.worldchanging.com/archives/009061.html
• A Fine Line: http://www.designsojourn.com/getting-inside-design-strategies-with-hartmut-esslinger/
• Marginal Revolution, though he reads way too fast to keep up: http://www.marginalrevolution.com/marginalrevolution/2009/05/what-ive-been-reading.html
• A friend now works here: http://www.goodreads.com/

Several years ago I read Tim Sanders’ book Love is the Killer App. In it, he argued that “Books are the complete thought-meal”. His point was that in a book, you get a complete argument, well-balanced and considered. Email, blogs, newspapers and even magazines are usually less complete and thus less helpful to read. Sanders recommends that you spend 80% of your learning time on books, and just 20% on magazines/web/tv/etc.

Of course, this sounds similar to the advice we’re given to eat our vegetables, do our homework, and mow the lawn–they’re all requirements to do things that we otherwise wouldn’t want to. What might we do to increase our desire to do the right thing?

Time might be an important factor. I’ve noticed that when I’m stressed or tired, I’m more attracted to eating unhealthy things–ice cream, pizza, and yes, candy. Similarly, I tend to read blogs, and reject books, mostly when I’m fatigued, especially late at night or when I’ve been working too hard. Changing my reading habits may require changing my lifestyle, and recognizing when I’m too distracted or tired to handle a big chunk of learning.

Even shifting certain activities to different times of day can help. My favorite William Blake quote alludes to this: “Think in the morning; act in the noon; read in the evening; and sleep at night”. When I follow this schedule, I’m more productive, less stressed, and tend to plan ahead and fill my “reading” time with books and longer thought experiences. In fact, I’m writing this now only because I set it aside “thought” time this morning. Morning works best for me because (once I’m out of bed) it tends to be my most energetic, clear-headed part of the day.

Focusing on big, long-term projects is a luxury that’s new to our culture–for most of history people have been forced to scramble from one small thing to another just to survive. It’s not surprising that small things then hold such appeal to us, but it’s exciting to think about what we might do with the opportunity to think bigger.

Dune reminded me in many ways of Anathem, as it is set in a world with 20,000 more years of history. It’s interesting to read stories of intelligent societies that have lived for hundreds of generations, especially since we have just 6000 years of history so far. What might our world look like with 20,000 years more? I have trouble grasping the differences from less than a century… The other theme that stuck with me is scarcity. Dune, as a desert planet, demands absolute adherence to strict rations and rules. It’s sustainability with almost nothing to start with. But it gives me hope that as we move to a sustainable culture, we’ll be able to adapt our behaviors and even benefit from the focus that scarcity brings. The danger of always taking the road most traveled:

The Guild navigators, gifted with limited prescience, had made the fatal decision: they’d chosen always the clear, safe course that leads ever downward into stagnation. (472) The last words of a man who tried to unify the world’s warring religions into one “master” belief system: “Religion must remain an outlet for people who say to themselves, ‘I am not the kind of person I want to be.’ It must never sink into an assemblage of the self-satisfied.” (506)

When I read The Lord of the Rings, I was endlessly intrigued by the references Tolkien made to the ancient history of Middle-Earth. What had really happened there? Why was it called Middle-Earth? How did the events of LOTR fit in with the rest of its history? So it was with great anticipation that I picked up The Silmarillion (Amazon), in which Tolkien chronicles the full history of the LOTR world. In its scope and length it reminded me of Anathem, where a single 900-page book felt like several different, but related, stories. In The Silmarillion, this is made explicit by separating the book into four separate sections. Each section uses a different level of perspective and detail, from high-level creation and deities down to personal interactions. This gives the book immense scope and the ability to give a full history of the world. It also uses the same trick as Anathem with its setting, in a world that is “not Earth”, but clearly “similar to Earth in many ways.” (Technically, Tolkien last described it as Earth “at a different stage of imagination“) As a literary work, however, it’s almost the opposite of LOTR and Anathem. While those books start small, with interpersonal issues in a small community, The Slimarillion starts very big, with the creation of the world and its deities. It sets up an interesting overall flow, as the focus shifts from large scale to very small and back again in LOTR. Tolkein gives a good description of this himself in the letter to his publisher included in the front (of my version, at least), which was at least as interesting as the rest of the book in telling how he created these works. He describes his goal as follows:

To make a body of more or less connected legend, ranging from the large and cosmogonic, to the level of romantic fairy-story — the larger founded on the lesser in contact with the earth, the lesser drawing splendor from the vast backcloths. – Forward, xi-xii The lyrical, poetic writing style is tough to read but is appropriate for the telling of ancient stories. The Silmarillion is set as a work of mythology for the world it describes, not for we as outsiders. As such, it tells the stories to people who are already familiar with the names and places. Fortunately, Tolkien includes a thorough index and glossary at the end of the book for those of us born outside Middle-Earth. For those simply wishing to understand the history of the LOTR world, the Middle-Earth Wikipedia page is probably the best resource. But if that isn’t enough, and you want to hear the stories yourself, The Silmarillion is the place to find them.

Notes

Just a few notes cribbed here; as with Anathem, the focus is on the reading of the story itself. Tolkien didn’t write everything with the final grand scheme in mind; rather, it emerged from the writing:

The mere stories were the thing. They arose in my mind as ‘given’ things, and as they came, separately, so too the links grew…always I had the sense of recording what was already ‘there’, somewhere: not of ‘inventing’. – Forward, xii The Hobbit…was quite independently conceived: I did not know as I began it that it belonged. But it proved to be the discovery of the completion of the whole. – Forward, xii An interesting perspective on the Dwarves, which were created outside of Eru’s (God’s) grand vision by an angelic Valar and didn’t have the same respect for the earth that the Elves did. Sadly, this seems also to be our perspective in this world… Because thou hiddest this thought from me until its achievement, thy children will have little love for the things of my love. They will love first the things made by their own hands, as doth their father. They will delve in the earth, and the things that grow and live upon the earth they will not heed. Many a tree shall feel the bit of their iron without pity. – 39 And while many of the stories immediately recall similar religious stories, Tolkien says this was not his goal: I dislike Allegory–the conscious and intentional allegory–yet any attempt to explain the purport of myth of fairytale must use allegorical language. (And, of course, the more life a story has the more readily will it be susceptible of allegorical interpretations: while the better a deliberate allegory is made the more nearly will it be acceptable just as a story.) – Forward, xii-xiii

Neal Stephenson’s Anathem was inspired by a Long Now Foundation request for designs of a clock that would measure time for 10,000 years. Stephenson’s idea of a societal, rather than mechanical, system was not chosen, but did turn into his next book. Stephenson cleverly set Anathem in a place that is “not Earth, but a planet called Arbre that is similar to Earth in many ways”. This allowed him to take as much as he wanted from Earth’s culture (human beings, technologies), while feeling free to change whatever he liked (like adding several thousand years of history). A clever storytelling technique. The general theme is of a society which separates out its scientists and intellectuals into convents, walled off from the world for predefined periods of time: 1 year, 10 years, 100 years, even 1000 years. The doors to these concentric conclaves are opened and closed at these intervals by the mechanics of the clocks that run them. This concept is like catnip for geeks: a culture that prizes their geeks so much it leaves them alone to work on their projects for thousands of years. It’s no wonder that programmers and engineers are the ones most excited about the book; the SF launch event attendees were nearly an exact replica of the Google population. Wired magazine did a good profile of Stephenson and the book, which inspired me to attend the Long Now event in San Francisco where the book was launched. The event ran tremendously behind schedule, which gave me time to grab a copy before it started. And as my friend observed, “these guys are building a 10,000 year clock. Do you think they’re worried about starting 45 minutes late?” It had been a long time since I’d read a book this long, and I was surprised by the sheer number of things you can do in 900 pages. Stephenson takes his readers on a huge adventure from a monastery courtyard to the stars and beyond; it seemed like at least 3 books in one (in fact, the work it most reminded me of was Lord of the Rings, both in style and scope). I’m now reading The Silmarillion, which tells the background of the Lord of the Rings story, and am developing an appreciation for this long-form storytelling. It was very engaging, though, and I read it in a weekend. I’ve discussed the book since with several others who haven’t read it, and one topic that always comes up is the concept of these monasteries being shut to the world for so long. In Anathem, the monasteries are not completely sealed. There exist systems for people to cross between them, and of course they’re open to the sky and planes flying over or skyscrapers built right next door. So while the letter of the law is violated, the spirit is kept, and the inhabitants respect the rules of an isolated society. Anathem gave me a new appreciation for the value of both long books and long-term thinking. Both are underappreciated today, and both seem like just what I need. Notes

1984 is a favorite of mine; I read it at least once every couple years. I think it’s the questioning nature of Winston that gets me, feeling the same emotions myself on a smaller scale. Interestingly in London this summer, I thought often of 1984. Whether they caused or were caused by the book, elements of the city constantly reminded me of the story. Cameras everywhere; tall, windowless buildings (used in the movie, natch); sensationalist newspaper headlines. As with any political satire, it’s easy to find similarities in our current world. In a time of unrest and war, however, it’s especially good to recognize that many of our fears are artificially-created and harmful, and that an intelligent reading of the news handed down to us is necessary. Notes

This book tells the tale of two successful city-dwellers, Eric and Mary Brende, who choose to live in an Amish-like community for 18 months. It goes pretty much as you’d expect: they struggle to get going but eventually love the lifestyle and decide to keep much of it. One thing the book explored was something I’ve thought of quite a bit. When we have numerous possessions, much of our time, energy, and money is spent just keeping them going. One especially ascetic member of their community referred to this as “turning the machine”. What would our required workload be like if we didn’t need to keep lots of possessions fixed up, fueled up, and upgraded? What could we do instead? I also enjoyed seeing how minimal technologies can be very powerful. A hand-cranked washing machine, for instance, took less time and energy than an automatic one and spun clothes dry enough to hang. A “yankee drill” made it onto my wishlist for its elegant manual drilling action that spins the bit as you push down on the handle. Obviously, in a time of environmental and financial crisis, the book sparked lots of thoughts about how this sort of lifestyle could “save the world”. But a doubt that nagged me throughout was that this approach to saving the world doesn’t seem to scale. Alex Steffen once wrote at his WorldChanging blog, “Don’t just be the change–mass-produce it”. I’m convinced that one of our world’s most pressing design needs is for ways to radically change the behavior of billions of people, and while I admire Eric and Mary’s courage and perseverance, their account doesn’t suggest a lifestyle that would be accepted voluntarily by most people living in developed countries. But could it scale? I loved the title of the book: “Better off“. A double entendre about living better and shutting off machines, it suggests that people might enjoy their lives more by living this lifestyle–and that they might realize this through reading the book. I don’t think that this book is going to do that, but a similar approach that envisions a life made better by slowing down might. That’s what I’m interested in designing, and while I do that I’ll continue to enjoy and be inspired by the ideas and strategies showcased in Better Off…many of which are listed below. Notes

Let’s start at the beginning: these notes are 8 years old. On my European train tour in 2000, I ran out of books to read in Nice, France. At an English-language bookstore there, I found A Brief History of Time and learned about the universe for the next few days. These are the things I flagged on the trains, in the hostels, and in the cities of Europe over the next few days, over 8 years ago. Notes

Given my recent interest in the contemplative life and observing nature, a friend recommended I read Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. It chronicles the author’s adventures and observations while living and exploring the Tinker Creek area of Virginia’s Roanoake Valley, and won the Pulitzer Prize when published in 1974. Yet while my copy of Pilgrim is a modest-sized paperback, it took me several months to finish. More poetry than prose, the rich language and imagery made my customary quick reading difficult. Instead, I read in chunks, up to a chapter or two in a sitting but rarely more. Another reason I split the reading up was to better savor the experience. Reading Pilgrim slowed down my world–after consuming a chapter I was always contemplative myself, and would want to go enjoy the world around me. One chapter I read while eating Indian food alone at our favorite restaurant in Berkeley. I set down the book and spent 10 minutes marveling at the beauty of the water in my glass, before taking off to wander through the woods. I took 2 hours to return the 1/8 mile to our house. It was fascinating how simply looking more closely at the world could produce such experiences. After all, it’s the same world that blurs past as I bike, or ride the bus; the same world that sits outside the window as I work. The richness is so easily ignored; Dillard notes this late in the book, saying “how many days have I learned not to stare at the back of my hand when I could look out at the creek?” (271). As a designer, I’m realizing that experiences can only be half-designed–the other half is the person’s own responsibility to engage with and savor the experience. Within the single theme of watching the world, the book covers a wide range of topics and perspectives. Dillard ranges from cedar trees bursting with light and color to a water bug getting its insides sucked out; from Eskimo folk tales to quantum physics. In many ways the scope, and its focus on discovering some ultimate truths, reminded me of another favorite, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The writing style is clearly influenced by her process. As described in the afterword, she collected bits from many disparate influences, put them on index cards, then tried to fit them together. Sections jump wildly between tangentially-related topics, but it reinforces the overall theme of chaotic wonder. I enjoyed the structure, actually, as it suggests what a similar collection of my divergent observations and interests might look like. This is a rare book that I’ll keep around, something I do more with poetry than with prose or informational books. Turning to this might keep me from losing sight of the wonders that are all around. It truly is an amazing place.

My God what a world. There is no accounting for one second of it.” (267) Notes

As part of an effort to read more fiction (to better appreciate the creative side of writing) and in honour of our trip to London, I read The Honourable Schoolboy by John le Carre. It was fun to read it while in London, as I was simultaneously discovering the landmarks it mentioned in the storyline and in the real world. Just a couple citations I marked:

Notes

The role of an “intelligence” agency–not much different from user experience design?

The task of an intelligence service, Smiley announced firmly, was not to play chase games but to deliver intelligence to its customers. If it failed to do this, those customers would resort to other, less scrupulous sellers or, worse, indulge in amateurish self-help…not to produce was not to trade, and not to trade was to die. (68-69) That reminds me of a quote from the Adaptive Path UX Intensive seminar: “People have to make decisions. And if you don’t give them good information to make them by, they’ll just have to guess.” And why I’ve always struggled doing the intelligence research myself; good to hear a real spy might pull it off. When you’re my size, sport, you have to have a hell of a good reason for whatever you’re doing. (392)

A tiny book lent to me by a friend, which can be summarized in far fewer words still. The insights, however, are as strong as any. The book is a 20-minute read, and someone even typed it out online. It’s worth reading for the examples, though most of the content can be summarized as below. My main takeaways were 1) the value of life-long general knowledge in eventually bearing fruit, and 2) the importance of stepping away from the work to wait for the ‘a-ha’ moment. Notes

Perhaps more aptly titled “Things Adaptive Path has been thinking about”, Subject to Change doesn’t really hold together as a book but offers good, concise, somewhat-related essays about design practices. The book offers some good descriptions of the research and design methods currently in vogue. As an introduction to the field for beginning designers, researchers, and others, it might be more successful, but for design professionals it doesn’t bring much new to the table. Unfortunately, Subject to Change suffers from the very things it warns about: it is a single, standalone product (the book), containing a series of features (loosely-related chapters), created from technical competency (consulting learnings) rather than people’s (at least design professionals’) needs. Finally, as the authors confessed when speaking at their book talk, the static, final, published nature of a book doesn’t lend itself well to updates and last-minute revisions. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about the design process, it’s that it is always “subject to change”… Notes

Just a few notes on Clay Shirky’s talk at the Berkman Center last month (David Weinberger’s notes):

[With the internet] Freedom of speech, freedom of the press, and freedom of assembly are all the same thing.” – 3:45 Within 3 months of the internet’s birth, email–an afterthought application–accounted for 75% of all traffic. Nothing says dictatorship like arresting people for eating ice cream – 36:30 Really want to read the book…

Tom Kelley’s book The Ten Faces of Innovation defines ten personas (thankfully not “named”–Bob, Sally, etc–just titled) that exemplify roles in an innovative team. They aren’t job titles or exclusive positions, and people can work across roles as well. * The Anthropologist, who observes people and discovers ways to help them * The Experimenter, an expert in prototyping and testing, probably the classic “innovator” * The Cross-Pollinator, with broad interests who enjoys connecting different cultures * The Hurdler, who champions projects and carries them over beaurocratic obstacles * The Collaborator, who brings people together to work cooperatively * The Director, encouraging, inspiring, supporting, organizing and championing innovators * The Experience Architect, a specialist in designing full “experiences” that transcend simple products or services * The Set Designer, creating spaces that inspire and support innovation * The Caregiver, who improves the subjective, emotional aspects of products and how they relate to us * The Storyteller, who tells stories about people and products in creative and interesting ways I most enjoyed the Set Designer persona–in fact it was the reason I read this book in the first place–and it solidified for me my desire to build tools to help other people work better. I sometimes feel like that’s a copout–the whole “those who can’t do, teach” joke comes to mind–but it’s of course possible to design tools for direct use on a large scale. But also, if a secondary role means tools will be created that otherwise wouldn’t be, then direct ownership of the design isn’t as important to me. Finally, it could just be that the Set Designer is the only role that definitely involves creating physical things; I may just be starved for that after five years of mostly digital design. The book is heavily IDEO-centric, and most of the examples are from Kelley’s own 20-year career there. Not really a surprise for a book subtitled “IDEO’s strategies…” but worth mentioning; this is basically IDEO in book form. It includes several weird asides that are clearly IDEO/Kelley quirks, for instance his long tangents into the power of napping at work, comfortable hotel beds, and (ugh) T-shaped people. The IDEO focus gets pretty old after a while, and makes you wonder about the broader applicability of the ideas. What works in a design consulting company that works almost exclusively on short-term projects may not be the best structure for others. But the personas are broad and–as mentioned above–not exclusive to people’s job roles, so they are good signposts for anyone interested in developing their own innovation skills. I suspect it would be less interesting for a sole inventor/designer, but for people working at companies they are especially applicable. Raw notes follow…

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Tim Ferriss thinks that you can work your job four hours a week, from anywhere in the world, still make enough money to live luxuriously, and do it for your entire life. Sound good to you? Me too. His book, The 4-Hour Workweek, explains the ways that he and other “New Rich” (NR) have escaped the traditional job culture to live more freely. Tim’s plan starts with the assumption that “for most people…the perfect job is the one that takes the least time.” This is about jobs, not work, as he clarifies later. The key insight: You need to separate the way you make money from the way you spend your time. It’s ok to like what you do; it’s fine to spend all your time working on something. But that shouldn’t be what you rely on to pay the bills, as it will restrict your freedom. Instead, find a way to make money that doesn’t have a direct correlation with the amount of time you spend on it. Then, do whatever you want with your remaining time. Tim presents a holistic plan for “lifestyle design”, one that looks past the simple measurement of dollars accumulated to the more intangible but equally valuable measurements of hours spent, freedom of time and location, and excitement level. There aren’t easily objectified measures for these things, but they are all the things we wish money would buy…but which it almost never does. You have to incorporate them from the start. While his plan seems tailor-made for entrepreneurs, and he clearly favors that model, it’s also useful for people who want to stay employed at their jobs but want more freedom, efficiency, and fun. I’ve already taken his advice on dealing with email and meetings, and it’s absolutely changed the way I work–I’m much more effective, focused on important things, and only working on things that are interesting and fun. All that with no real problems. In fact, people seem to appreciate my time more now that it’s clearly valuable. Tim’s tips are extremely practical, and each chapter has clear “Questions and actions” to dive into as practice. So while the philosophy is radical, he recognizes that most people will to try it out gradually. For starting a business, he gives strategies for testing the market before investing, using pay-per-click search advertising; for traveling, he has tips for your first “mini-retirement”, all the way down to putting fuel stabilizer in your parked car; for working remotely, he includes links to software downloads. Everything is so practical that it almost seems…possible. It’s a remarkable feat for such a radical book. His writing style is a bit self-righteous at times–Ferriss continually reminds you of all the cool things he’s done, and it comes off as being full of himself. Then again, it’s important to visualize the possibilities in his framework through examples, for motivation. I just preferred it when he used other people’s examples instead of his own. It also made me wonder how replicable this method was–while he mentions about a dozen other “New Rich”, or “NR”, who have done these things, that’s hardly a statistically-significant number to trust for such radical changes. Consider it “inspiration”, but realize that your circumstances will vary. Perhaps the best testament to The Four Hour Workweek is the way that it, as a book, exemplifies the philosophy it espouses. It was created by a person with no experience in the publishing industry; manufactured, sold, and distributed by third parties; and provides a consistent revenue stream for its author (a significant one, I’d guess, using the Amazon.com sales rankings as an indicator). I’ve always wondered about self-help books, because if the author really believed in their methods they’d be doing them instead of writing about them. Tim managed to do both with this book. My hunch is that The 4-Hour Workweek won’t change you if you don’t want to be changed, but if you already feel dissatisfied with the way our culture works it will resonate with and inspire you. If you find yourself saying things like “there’s no fundamental reason that people should work for 8 hours a day”, “why should I have to wait for retirement to have freedom in my life” or “why should I spend the best years of my life in a cubicle”, or if you’re afflicted with (as Tim says) “the hopelessness that hits [you] like a punch in the eye every time I start my computer in the morning” (35), this book is for you. There is a better way.

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Scott Adams rambles all over the philosophical world in God’s Debris, his first non-Dilbert book, which attempts to slaughter most of the world’s sacred cows. This book of philosophy surprised his fans when published in 2001; after all, most times a celebrity in one field takes on another, we end up with something like Eddie Murphy’s music video. His sections on religion and science are best, perhaps because those are more objective subjects. The sections on relationships and the practical applications of the stated philosophy are weaker, and come off as a cheesy self-help book. The first-person prose is not great, coming off as a mix between a film noir detective thriller and the narration of The Wonder Years. It performs its function, however, of distancing the ideas from statements of truth. Adams writes in the forward: “I call it a 132-page thought experiment wrapped in a fictional story…You won’t discover my opinions by reading my fiction.” Another drawback of the prose, however, is the way it forces him to explain each step of the reasoning. He has to build his arguments like houses of cards, where any one flaw seems to take down the entire structure. The way he does so shows a lot of ego from the Avatar’s perspective. The overall concepts once he finishes explaining them are strong, but the hubris makes me skeptical of the execution. The real value of reading God’s Debris is in the discussions that inevitably come out of it. The book is an excellent provocateur, and I agree with him that it’s best to “share God’s Debris with a smart friend and then discuss it while enjoying a tasty beverage.” It’s best to not take these ideas for absolute truth, but reading it with friends will certainly help you find out what you really believe yourself. Notes