Go out and look and have a purpose and observe

I’ve never thought of myself as a photographer. And that’s not like the way I write a lot, but still often don’t really consider myself a writer because I haven’t achieved traditional success. I don’t consider myself a photographer because I rarely ever take photographs. For example, the only thing I’ve posted to my personal Instagram account in the last two years is a video of a roomba-type robot mowing the lawn of my hotel in front of a fjord in Norway.

But I’ve aspired to change that with this blog and catch people doing creative things during my day and share those moments with the world (or with my 84 current WDYC Instagram followers). To do that, I’ve gone out and asked myself a question similar to the one that Dewitt Jones asks himself every time he picks up his camera: “what’s creative about this?”

Now, that question is often quickly followed by a sarcastic voice in my head saying, “yeah…that’s definitely not Instagram-worthy, so put your phone away, move along, and don’t embarrass yourself.” And so I usually do put the phone away and move along. But sometimes I tell that voice to f off and I take the photo anyway and then blast music in my headphones to quiet the inner skeptic as I post the pic to Instagram and then sit back and watch as I rack up four or five likes. Take that, inner skeptic!

What I’ve enjoyed about this activity is not just the dopamine rush that comes from my social media validation, but also the way it changes my mindset as I go about my day. I’m not just trudging along from home to work and then back again. I’m searching for what is creative in the world and it’s giving my daily commute a purpose.

This is exactly what portrait photographer, Annie Leibovitz, said in her Master Class about why individuals should consider taking up photography: "It's actually a wonderful medium for a young person to just go out and discover themselves and discover the world around them and it gives them permission to go out and look and have a purpose and observe."

Now, I’ve only taken a few photos so far, so I obviously need to improve in my ability to recognize and celebrate creativity, but as Dewitt Jones said in his Ted Talk, “The more I just went out and celebrated the best in humanity, the more I could see it." So I just need to keep going out and asking myself the same question: what’s creative about this?

And if I still can’t see it, I might just need to veer off the traditional path I take to find an answer to the question. Which is what I did today when I discovered this neighborhood spookiness creator a quarter mile from my house. Shut up, inner skeptic. I’m posting it to Instagram anyway.

Celebrate what's right with the world

I’ve watched this inspiring video from National Geographic photographer, Dewitt Jones, about five times in the last few days. I honestly feel like it should be my alarm, the soundtrack of my morning, and the thing that welcomes me into a day full of possibilities. Dewitt talks about the “why” of National Geographic, which ultimately became the why of not only his professional career but also the why of his life:

"What they charged me with every time they sent me out was to celebrate what was right with the world, rather than wallowing in what was wrong with it."

Such a simple concept, but so difficult in execution! I actually watched the video this morning before heading off to work, intent on finding what was magical about my drive to the Fruitvale BART station in Oakland…and five minutes in, I found myself screaming at why the heck they decided to do construction on literally the entire Fruitvale stretch of International Blvd. on the same day, backing up traffic for a quarter-mile. Like seriously! Wouldn’t it make sense to space it out and…

Oh yeah, see there I go again. Dewitt! Help!

“The more I just went out and celebrated the best in humanity, the more I could see it."

Ah yes, so like everything else, it takes practice. It’s so easy to get distracted with things that are going wrong with our lives, whether it be problems at work or politics or the freaking traffic on International Blvd. But we always have the option of taking a deep breath and asking the same questions Dewitt asks himself each time he picks up his camera: “What’s there to celebrate? What’s right with it?”

I had a second opportunity today to practice this perspective as I waited for my small Jacob’s Wonderbar outside Philz Coffee in San Francisco, since, despite ordering my drink on the app and requesting a 1:10 pick-up time, IT WASN’T READY AT EXACTLY 1:10! Unbelievable. But I took a deep breath, stopped the downward tailspin, and thought about Dewitt’s questions. What was right about the situation? What was there to celebrate?

I looked outside and saw a couple of guys laughing as they played an impromptu game of…well, I don’t exactly know what they were playing, but it involved large checker-type pieces that they were pushing with their feet and they were laughing and having a blast. And I laughed with them.

Now, I’m sure I’ll get back into my old habits of shaking my fist at the road and focusing on what’s wrong, but I’m hopeful that over time, I’ll spend more of my days looking for what’s right like I did today at Philz. And that in itself is worth celebrating, because, as Dewitt says, “that perspective, that lens, it will change your life, as it has changed mine.”

The pre-story pitch

I attended a local writing workshop yesterday that was put on by the awesome Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. There is A LOT to unpack from the workshop, but I thought I’d start with one of the first sessions I attended, How to Write the Perfect Elevator Pitch. The facilitator, acclaimed literary agent Stephen Fraser, said that the point of the elevator pitch is to help the writer and agent make it easier for non-literary people (i.e. sales reps) to talk about our books.

Now, I initially thought this jumped like 18 steps ahead of where I currently am as a writer. My agent equipping sales reps with an elevator pitch about my story? Yeah, first I need an agent. Then a publishing firm has to agree to take on my book. Then said publishing firm must be big enough to have sales reps in the field ready to talk about my project. And once all of those things are in place, sure, then I’ll think about an elevator pitch.

But then Stephen mentioned that the first part of creating a pitch is to succinctly describe the essence of the story. What’s it about? What does it accomplish? Why did you write it? That last part obviously connected with me, given the theme of this blog.

Wouldn’t it be helpful, I wondered, to come up with a rough pitch of your story before you actually start writing it? Obviously, you should have the freedom to change the story during the writing process and the pitch doesn’t have to include specific plot points, but it could get at the essence of the story. What message are you trying to convey to your reader?

Something like: “This is a story of female empowerment” or “This is a story about celebrating what’s right with the world.” And then describe at a high-level how your story will accomplish that. I’d imagine this pre-story pitch would help you stay focused on your goal for the project as you create it (Stephen seemed to agree when I suggested it to him after his session).

So, after I finish with the brainstorming exercise I’m currently going through and choose my next story idea, I’m going to start with this exercise before writing the first word. And WDYC blog followers, you’ll be the first to see it when it’s finished…

Designing wonder

Creating an experience has been on my mind since I went to The Soiled Dove show in Oakland over the weekend. Basically, this was Cirque du Soleil meets a burlesque show meets Burning Man. With amazing food and drinks that were served by waiters and waitresses who ended up being THE FREAKING PERFORMERS OF THE SHOW, and were “some of the nation’s most acclaimed acrobats, aerial artists, contortionists, and circus sideshow acts, an array of unique fire performers, a bevy of gifted thespians, and a barrage of the most enticing go-go’s.”

So yeah, possibly a little overqualified to serve me my delicious curry soup, but that surprise and awe and wonder the audience felt when these individuals proceeded to fly through the air and contort their bodies into positions that are still making me cringe was exactly the point. It was all about their dedication to creating a truly incredible and memorable experience.

It reminds me of a video I saw from magician Dan White about creating experiences that people will always cherish. He says that at the core of all of these experiences is wonder, which is “that sense of amazement that you get when you see something beautiful, something unfamiliar, something inexplicable. It’s the root of all art.”

So how do you create wonder and give people these experiences? According to Dan, you can design it with just four ingredients: mystery, anticipation, preparation, and surprise. For Dan, mystery is pretty easy. What mind-blowing trick is he going to perform next? And he said he must anticipate problems people may have before they happen.

One example he gave is anticipating that someone will be hungry and then preparing by doing the research around what this person likes to eat and practicing A TON around executing the trick. So when the person finally says, “I’m hungry,” Dan can ask, “Well, what would you like to eat?” And that person will then say, “A ham sandwich,” leading Dan to say, “Surprise! There’s a ham sandwich in your pocket.”

There is a whole lot more wonder in this example than if Dan had just told the person there was somehow a sandwich in their pocket. Kind of creepy actually. The story and build-up really matter when creating wonder.

How then did The Soiled Dove create wonder? I, unfortunately, wasn’t asked to come watch them practice before the show, but I do have some guesses. For mystery, that big top in the middle of Uptown Oakland has been grabbing my attention for over a year and leading me to try to figure out what the heck goes on in there.

For anticipation, they probably expected that we would just assume that our servers were just our servers and not SOME OF THE NATION’S MOST ACCLAIMED ACROBATS. And before the performers ever entered that big top, I’m pretty sure they had spent thousands of hours preparing by practicing to be the best at what they do, so when they eventually did fly through the air and contort their bodies on Friday night, yeah, I was pretty surprised. And filled with wonder.

Into the compost heap

“Everything you read, things that you write, things that you listen to, people you encounter, all go on the compost heap, and will rot down, and produce beautiful stories.”

This quote is from Neil Gaiman’s incredible Master Class. Basically he is saying here that our stories pull from all of our experiences, as well as older stories we’ve written that maybe never materialized into a finished product. And that’s where I am right now, taking a story I’ve been working on for the past few weeks and throwing it into the compost heap.

It was a decent idea- a story about a Dream Maker who only appeared to people who believed in a life beyond the norm. And he would magically show up and hand them a blue envelope with a dream inside that gave them permission to explore their passions instead of just resigning to be a lawyer or a businessman or something else that didn’t inspire them. Kind of like Santa Claus for nomadic 20-somethings.

But as I looked at my half-finished story, I realized that it was pretty much a jumbled mess. And I had no idea where I wanted to go with it and didn’t really feel inspired to finish it. Now, I’m a big believer in continuing along until you finish a project, as it trains your mind not to quit too early. I typically wonder halfway through a story where I’m going with it, only to eventually push through and come up with a pretty solid ending and create a decent finished product.

This time, though, I’m just not feeling it and want to put the story in the compost heap and use it to help fertilize a more captivating story in the future. So Daniel, the Dream Maker, into the compost heap you go, off to rot down and hopefully inspire something beautiful.

The possibility of a dream come true

“It's the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting.”

I love this quote from The Alchemist, a book I haven’t read in years, but really want to revisit. I have found the statement to be true when working on many of my creative projects. It’s not necessarily about actually achieving a dream, it’s that hope, that possibility of achieving it that gets me to wake up early and write the next sentence. And then after I’m finished, the reality hits me…I will have to send my story out to an agent or publishing firm to achieve my dream. Ugh. Literally my least favorite thing.

But while I’m writing, I envision with perfect clarity a morning BART ride to San Francisco where I see a person reading a story…my story…from across the jammed packed sardine carriage and then watch them laugh out loud and feel the urgent need to share it with their friend. And I love that dream. I might like that dream even more than I would actually like seeing it happen in reality, because sometimes reality can be a bit of a letdown.

It’s kind of like a vacation where you do all the planning and stay awake at night thinking about how magical the trip will be. And then you get there and your bag gets lost and the taxi driver almost kills you on the way to your hotel and then those college kids in the room next to you won’t shut the f up and then it rains four out of five days. Still likely a great trip overall, of course, but the possibility, that dream you had before you left…now that was something special.

In terms of creativity dreams, I’ve heard published authors and illustrators talk about how their first thought after they “made it” was…is this really all there is? Now hopefully when I achieve my dream, it’s more meaningful than that and I will relish the moment as much as I have the possibility of it. But for now, all I have is that possibility and that is definitely making life more interesting for me.

I don't write children's books

I often struggle with who I’m writing for in my stories. Or more accurately, who I should be targeting with them in order to get published. Outside of a few funny adult picture books like “All My Friends Are Dead” and “Go the F**k to Sleep, I personally haven’t seen a huge market for them, so I’ve tried to write for a younger audience.

However, since I don’t have kids and don’t really interact that much with humans under 22, I really can’t help but think of adults when writing my stories and the finished product is often something that isn’t exactly a children’s story and also isn’t really a story for adults. A book marketer’s dream, no doubt!

And I sometimes get down about my inability to just focus on a target age group and write a damn story for them, but then think back to Stephen Colbert’s 2012 interview of the late Maurice Sendak, author of Where the Wild Things Are, in which Sendak said, “I don't write children's books. I write, and somebody says, 'That's for children.'“

I love that. I believe his point was that if there is a story that doesn’t yet exist and you really want it to, then write it! But don’t write it for children or teenagers or adults. Just write the story the way you want to write it and leave it up to the book marketers or the world to figure out who it is for.

Now, the hard part is that unlike Maurice Sendak, I’ve never had access to a publishing firm’s book marketers or even an agent, so I need to convince people of influence that a certain target market will buy my book. But if I truly have a great story to share, I think my odds of doing that are probably higher than if I were to dumb down my story to appeal to four-year-olds. Because you know what? Adults are often the ones reading those stories to their kids and I’m sure they’d love to come across one with heart and humor and a theme that they can relate to on a deeper level, even if their kid is just focused on the funny picture of balloon flying up to the moon.

Creativity in Krav Maga

Over the past couple of months, I've been thinking about my loves of creativity and Krav Maga and wondering if there is some sort of overlap between the two I could discuss here. But is Krav Maga really creative or is it just a way to defend yourself against an attacker? I guess you can be pretty creative about the way you deliver an onslaught of strikes against someone, but that's kind of a stretch for a creativity blog. And maybe a little too aggressive.

But this week, I had the opportunity to sit down with the lead instructor of my gym, Carl, and a few of my friends who are considering becoming instructors. Carl talked about his desire to create more of a Krav community and how, after an exodus of experienced practitioners from the gym after it became more focused on cardio than self-defense, he wanted to quickly train up people who had been coming for a few years so that newer people had someone they could look up to and learn from.

And then the group talked about creative warm-up drills we could incorporate that would introduce Krav Maga movements the instructors would be teaching later in the class (kind of like wax on/wax off from Karate Kid).

So yeah, there it was. Using creativity in my Krav Maga gym. Twice in one night! But I guess it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise, because if you really look for it, there is creativity in everything people are doing.

Why do improv

I just got back from my first improv class after a three-month hiatus and had a great conversation afterward with a guy named Juan, who I had met about a year ago in my first-ever class. Juan mentioned that the reason he was taking improv was mostly to help him develop his listening skills. He originally thought that in order to contribute something to a conversation, he needed to focus on coming up with a great response…while the person was still talking to him. Yeah, me too, Juan. Me too.

But after taking a number of improv classes over the past couple of years, he has learned that in order to come up with a great response, he has to actually be listening to what the person speaking to him is saying…until they completely finish talking. Easier said than done, I’ve found! In improv, if you are standing there brainstorming about a clever line during a scene, you’re basically screwed because your partner could literally throw something to you out of left field.

Like, you both could be standing on a baseball outfield and he or she could decide to throw a giant octopus at you. If you’ve been brainstorming about a funny thing you are going to say when a baseball comes your way, you either 1) won’t know what to do when those eight tentacles start sucking on your legs because you haven’t been paying attention to the conversation or 2) you are going to mindlessly swat the giant octopus off and move ahead with your planned “funny” line. Either way, not really a great way to move the scene forward! And with option two, you’re kind of being a dick, as it’s making your partner who threw the octopus at you look bad.

So the best plan of attack is to listen carefully to your partner and play off whatever it is they are saying. And ultimately try to make them look good because when both of you are up there having fun and supporting each other and LISTENING, you are much more likely to produce a great scene. And yeah, that sounds a little like the foundation of a great friendship or relationship, as well.

Goals

I mentioned yesterday the idea I read in The Art of War about showing up every day like I would for a paying job. And here I am showing up in Breckinridge, CO from the phone charging station in my hotel lobby!

I have been thinking about this a lot since posting yesterday. Do I actually need to show up and write seven days a week to consider myself a professional? Is six ok? Five? I mean, in a real job, you do have weekends and vacations and taking a break and stepping away from your work for a brief period of time can be incredibly beneficial.

I personally have found that setting short-term goals is really helpful and if I am able to meet my goals writing three days a week, then great! At least I know I am moving forward in my writing and am continuing to create stories.

Some goals that I have found helpful in the past have been to write: 1,000 words a week for my novel, one new picture book story a month (for about six months), and one new song every three months (for three or four years).

I currently don’t have any real writing goals, so it may make sense to for me now to just try to write something new every day, even just a few sentences. Or maybe I should get back to setting goals around what I want to accomplish with my stories.

But that is for tomorrow. My phone is now charged and it’s time to explore Breckinridge…

Showing up

I was feeling pretty good this morning about progress I had made last night on a short story. And that prompted me to want to write a post here about momentum, about how once you get the ball rolling it’s easy to keep going, but once you stop, it’s incredibly hard to get moving again. And how, after spending the weekend not writing and initially saying things like, “do I actually need to write if nobody is going to notice?,” I now feel like I’m flowing again and writing is simple!

Only it’s not right now. I got home from work, turned on the news…then watched some Youtube videos…then ate some chocolate and drank a glass of wine…and then realized I haven’t packed yet for my trip to Colorado tomorrow morning. Does it really matter if I just take a few days off and write when I get back on Sunday?

Maybe not. But maybe it actually does, even if nobody else notices. I think it might matter to my subconscious as it is trying to figure out if I am just fooling around here or if I am taking this writing thing seriously. As Steven Pressfield says in his book, The War of Art:

“To the amateur, the game is his avocation. To the pro it’s his vocation. The amateur plays part-time, the professional full-time. The amateur is a weekend warrior. The professional is there seven days a week.”

Basically, if I want to think of myself as a professional, I have to show up every day (or at least most days), even if my brain is done thinking for the night and I don’t have any clue what I could possibly write that people would want to ever read. If this were my actual work, would I just call up my boss and say I’m too tired to come in or I just don’t feel inspired or motivated? If you said yes to this, let me know where you work! I want to apply! But that probably wouldn’t fly at most jobs and it probably shouldn’t fly with my writing either.

So here I am, showing up. It feels good actually. And with each word I type, I can start to feel the flow coming back. Time to pull out my notebook and continue on with the story…

Instagram

I started this project with the idea that I would kind of replicate what Humans of New York is doing, but focus only on why people are creating. And do that pretty much through Instagram.

But as I did that, I found the conversations with people around why they are creating a little forced and uncomfortable (I often pulled out my phone mid-conversation to record people). Not surprisingly, I quickly lost interest in having these types of interviews and pretty much stopped posting.

But I’d love to get back into sharing something on Instagram! What though? Pics of things I find creative? Shots of people doing something creative? A collection of things my dog has taken off the counter and creatively chewed up?

I took two breaks at work today (very quick breaks if anyone from work is reading this) to walk the streets of SF, hoping to spot something that would spark an idea. And I did the same thing on the BART ride home. While I didn’t find anything I wanted to capture on my camera, I did notice that I was paying attention to my surroundings a lot more. And that’s something! Maybe I should have taken a selfie of me pretending not to stare at my phone for once.

Tomorrow is another day of work, meaning another two BART rides and likely a couple more quick strolls around the city. So a number of opportunities to catch somebody doing something creative. Fingers crossed.

Why do I create?

Over the past few months, I’ve thought more and more about why I actually want to write when the odds of traditional success are severely stacked against me. As books like the incredible Man’s Search for Meaning will tell you, an individual with a clear purpose in life can overcome anything in pursuit of their dream…even the Holocaust (I really can’t recommend this book enough if you haven’t read it).

Understanding the power of purpose, I have tried to put together my life’s “why”…which is a difficult task! With the help of Simon Sinek and my friend, Allie Stark, here’s my first take on it:

To connect with others to help them find more acceptance, belonging, and joy in their lives. Or to help lift them up if I’m being quick about it.

Awesome! Tick that off the list. Life purpose all figured out. So…what do I do with this?

Obviously I can continue to write stories that lift people up…but actually work harder at sharing them with the world, rather than just storing them on Google Drive and promising to do something with them “someday.”

And this blog is another good way to connect with others. Maybe a story of an inspirational person I meet or one of my ramblings will create a spark within someone that will help them find more acceptance, belonging, or joy within their lives.

So maybe I should actually let people outside of a few friends and family know that I am doing this! I don’t think I’m quite ready to click the “share to Facebook” link that will pop up when I publish this post, but hopefully soon.

Now is there something else I could do to help further my purpose beyond writing? Something related to my sales job at an education technology company? Or a volunteer opportunity? Or maybe create an event like a talent show? Time to brainstorm! Anyway, that’s where I am right now.

Belinda Blinked

Just finished season 1 of My Dad Wrote a Porno. I mean…wow. I haven’t laughed that hard at a podcast in…ever? If you haven’t listened to it, here’s the summary from the site:

“Imagine if your dad wrote a dirty book. Most people would try to ignore it - but not Jamie Morton. Instead, he decided to read it to the world in this groundbreaking comedy podcast. With the help of his best mates, James Cooper and Alice Levine, Jamie reads a chapter a week and discovers more about his father than he ever bargained for.”

Jamie’s dad, pseudonymed Rocky Flintstone, likely wrote this book, Belinda Blinked, thinking he was truly penning sexy erotic fiction that would arouse his readers. But it ended up being a hilarious comedy, with each line mirroring this gem from one of the final chapters:

"The Duchess stood up and stretched her cramped body. Her nipples hardened with her feeling and they were now as large as the three inch rivets which had held the hull of the fateful Titanic together.”

Three inch nipples. Hot. Rocky’s son and his friends publicly roasted every single phrase in the book over months…and based on comments from Jamie, it seems as if Rocky loved every minute of it.

This makes me think of the 2017 film, The Disaster Artist, which (enter Wikipedia quote) “chronicles the unlikely friendship between budding actors Tommy Wiseau and Greg Sestero, which results in the production of Wiseau's 2003 film The Room, widely considered one of the worst films ever made.” Tommy allegedly made the movie thinking it would be a serious drama, but it ended up being a comedy cult classic. Over time, Tommy, much like Rocky Flintstone, truly began to embrace this unintentional new genre.

When we create art, often we have a grand, and sometimes stubborn, vision for how others will and should receive it. At least I do. But maybe it’s helpful to stop taking ourselves and our art so seriously and accept the reception we receive, even if people completely mock what we put out. I mean, hey, at least they are paying attention. And laughing.

Why we cook today

I received this email this morning from Sam Sifton, food editor of The New York Times, in his daily cooking newsletter:

“It is a somber day in New York City, in Washington, D.C., and Shanksville, Penn., all across the nation, everywhere touched by the attacks of 18 years ago. I can’t help but recall, each time, how blue the sky was that day and how tightly I held my week-old child in horror at what I’d done, bringing life into this world gone mad.

I cooked later that day and served what I’d made to my family. That act sustained me and sustains me still — this vain hope that if only we make food for one another and share it with open hearts we can push forward together in understanding, and together maybe make the world a better place. I don’t know if that works. I believe it does. So I’ll continue to do it, seeking grace in the meals, in the work of making them.”

18 years since 9/11. I remember that day so well, as it was my second day on a Department of Defense consulting project at Ft. Belvoir, just outside DC…and about 20 miles from the Pentagon. Given I was working on a defense base, they quickly closed it down for the day, and I drove by the Pentagon on the way home. I’ll never forget that smell or the feeling of vulnerability as I watched smoke billowing from our military’s headquarters.

When I finally got to my small studio apartment, I remember crouching in front of my TV alone, nervously eating what was likely a microwavable macaroni and cheese dinner directly out of the plastic container (pretty standard for that time in my life, really). I mean, there would certainly be more attacks, right? It really felt like a hijacked plane would crash into another national monument at any minute.

In reading the quote above, it makes me think of how much more comforted I would have been had I surrounded myself with friends, family, and a home-cooked meal that night. As Sam said, meals bring us together and allow us to open our hearts rather than live in fear. Good for you, Sam, for using such a terrible event to drive you to create such amazing food and inspire others to do the same.

As a writer

In my blog post yesterday, I wrote a sentence that began with, “As a writer.” I actually felt a little uncomfortable using “writer” as a word to describe myself. Am I really? I mean, writing accounted for precisely $0 on my W-2 last year and the idea of getting published one day often seems like a long-shot at best. Given that, can I really claim to be a writer?

This question made me think of a Nick Hornby quote I came across a little while back:

"One of the questions that is probably troubling you at the moment is this: How do I know whether I’m a writer? And the question can only be answered with another question: Well, do you write? If you don’t, you’re not. If you do, you are. There’s nothing else to it. If, in a month’s time, you have produced a novel, or a chunk of a novel, and you have never written before, then you will have changed your status, simply and crucially. Ah, but are you a good writer? Because that’s probably the question that best articulates the nagging doubt that has held you up hitherto. And I’m afraid you will never know the answer to that one. No writer does."

Over the last month, I’ve made a commitment to writing something every day, even if it’s just one terribly uncreative phrase, and I’ve usually been able to meet this goal. So according to Nick’s definition, I am, in fact, a writer!

But am I a good writer? I know a number of literary agents who would respond with a resounding, “No!” to that question. But I also know a lot of people who like my stories and really connect with them. So the answer is…maybe!

As Nick said, I’ll never know for sure and it really depends who you are asking. I guess the key point is to continue to work on my craft and stop worrying about whether other people think I’m “good.” If I instead focus on growth by writing every day, then at least I will be able to say that I’m a writer, and know for sure that it’s true.

Digital Minimalism

I just finished the Digital Minimalism audiobook on the way into work this morning (I'm listening to audiobooks much more than I'm reading these days), and really liked one of the final sentences. The author, Cal Newport, said that with technology overtaking most of our lives, the ultimate goal should be for you to say confidently, "because of technology, I'm a better human being than I ever was before."

That's a strong statement! Especially given the massive amounts of time I and many others spend surfing the web, streaming pointless Youtube videos, and scrolling through social media (Cal said that the average Facebook user spends 50 minutes a day on social media sites). Does this make me a better human being? Not likely!

The book references a lot of different ideas for more effectively using technology, from removing social media apps from our phones to becoming incredibly disciplined and intentional about the way we use technology to even going on a 30-day technology purge to help you understand why exactly you need it at all (I feel the shakes coming on already).

As a writer, I have tried to move a bit more towards pen and paper, constantly bringing a small notebook with me wherever I go. But the notebook is pretty much blank as I still find myself gravitating towards typing my stories in Google Docs or a Gmail note, both of which I can access on either my phone or computer, allowing me to continue on with a story or blog post wherever I am.

But can't I also do that with a notebook, as long as I remember to bring that with me? Maybe I'm just making excuses to avoid pulling myself away from the all-too-alluring glow of my computer and phone screens.

If I'm not willing to move over to a notebook just yet, maybe I can take Cal's advice and be more disciplined while I'm writing by turning off wifi so that I'm not tempted to spend my entire “creativity time” reading some BS article about why the Phillies have no realistic shot at making the playoffs (I disagree!). And then if I'm at a place where I need to research something, save the story so I can access it elsewhere, or am finally ready to share the story with the world, I can go ahead and turn that wifi back on. And then I might just be able to say that because of technology, I'm a better human being than I ever was before. Maybe…

You’re up there and that’s all that matters, really

My wife and I attended The Moth storytelling series last week in Berkeley at the awesome Freight and Salvage venue. If you are not familiar with The Moth, they help people connect with their own power as a storyteller, and with one another (that’s from their website).

Basically, they have a bunch of people prepare five-minute stories to share in front of an audience around a particular theme, put each person’s name into a hat or bowl or whatever, and then randomly select ten people to come up on stage throughout the night. And then they select three jerks to judge each person on their story and performance (my wife and I were judges last week).

Though only one person struck me as a possible professional speaker, most people seemed like they had definitely been up on stage before and were relatively comfortable presenting a story in front of an audience. The guy next to me though…oh man. Just speaking with him one-on-one was a bit awkward given how nervous and fidgety he seemed. When he told me that he frequently attended Moth events and usually went up and spoke, I was floored. This guy? Seriously?

While my friend was not randomly selected to tell his five-minute story, he was allowed to share with the audience the first line or two he would have told, as was everyone else who was not selected. It was something like, “I decided I wanted to do comedy so I entered a comedy competition. The good news was that I got in. That bad news was that during my set, everyone threw plastic cups at me.”

I mean…that’s a little sad, but also pretty hilarious and brave. This guy is nervous and awkward, but he decided he wanted to learn how to be funny and overcome his fear of presenting (he also shared with me that he is a regular attendee of Toastmasters). Most people would just accept that comedy and speaking are just not for them and watch their dreams pass by them. Now, is this guy going to end up on The Late Show or AGT? Probably not, but you never know! If he embraces his awkwardness, people may find him really endearing and root for him. But that’s not really the point.

His story made me think back to something my improv teachers said during my improv 101 class back in the spring: “You’re up there and that’s all that matters, really.” He was up on stage, doing something he has always wanted to do, and was dancing with his fears every step of the way, plastic cups be damned. Good for you, friend. Good for you.

Try something new

I was sitting at home alone last night, completely worn out from spending a week at Burning Man and then starting a new job, and I decided to have a quiet Netflix and chill night. Hoping to up my creativity game, I turned on The Creative Mind documentary and really appreciated one key point that I’ve been thinking about since. It was a quote from Nathan Myhrvold, who is a former exec at Microsoft and also a cookbook writer, nuclear scientist, and researcher of dinosaurs and asteroids. He said that a big spark of creativity for him is “taking ideas from one place and applying them another place."

That’s a very simple concept, but I see how Nathan’s ability to live in a number of different worlds at once has allowed him to bring innovative ideas to each. It reminds me of how Steve Jobs audited a calligraphy class in college taught by a Trappist monk, and then brought those ideas to Apple. And now we have tons of beautiful fonts on our computers (are Wingdings 1, 2, and 3 really all necessary, Steve?).

The documentary kept stressing the idea of getting off the path of least resistance and trying something new. With specialization, we are learning more and more about less and less, meaning we aren’t thinking like Nathan- bringing in new ideas from completely different fields and experiences.

But I’m also thinking back to my blog post from yesterday about a lack of time, which is a reality many creative people face, especially those with kids. With jobs that expect us to be specialized and get really good in one specific field, and with enormous responsibilities at home, where then is the time to write a cookbook or research dinosaurs or invent a new nuclear reactor?

Maybe, though, the bar doesn’t have to be that high. Perhaps we can just explore more in our own neighborhood and PUT DOWN OUR DAMN PHONES so we are actually engaged and paying attention. Is there a museum you can check out with your kids? A creativity podcast you can listen to on the way to work? Or an art class (at a place like Mischief) or an improv dojo you can drop in on that will allow you to temporarily get off the path of least resistance and learn a new skill? Or, if you are incredibly tired like I was last night and opt for Netflix and chill, maybe you can check out a documentary that will help you look at things differently and inspire you to be more creative.

And honestly, as I’m writing this, I’m realizing that even reading a fiction novel transports us into a new world that may inspire our creativity. So I guess the point is do something new that stretches our perspective and don’t just re-watch the same America’s Got Talent Youtube videos over and over again like I often do. Kodi Lee is pretty amazing though…

Time

Going back to the conversation I had earlier this week with Laura, co-owner of the Mischief gift shop in Oakland, she mentioned one theme that really got me thinking: time. The massive amounts of time it takes for her to manage the store and lead the art classes, the time that takes away from her ability to create jewelry, something she did frequently in the past and loved, and the time it takes for the artists she supports to create things and how much they are then willing to sell them for in the store (not a lot apparently!).

So why is Laura bothering to run the store when it's cutting into the hours she could be spending with her family or creating jewelry or anything else? And why doesn’t she just find another job that likely would have a more stable cash flow? She told me that it's really all about the impact she can make in her local community (she lives right down the street from the store).

A few people attending her classes might ignite a creative spark that could remain lit for the rest of their lives. Holy crap! What a purpose! Also, for the local artists who sell their products in her store, she is giving them an opportunity to begin to make a living doing what they love, even if they are initially selling a product for just $20 after 40 hours of work (an actual situation Laura mentioned). Hey, I've written a novel and a number of other stories and have received exactly $0 from them, so I'd take $20!

For Laura, the purpose of the store is not necessarily about profit (which isn't a ton right now but improving) or the ability to show off jewelry she has made. It's about the contribution she can make to artists in her community. And for her, the time it takes to make that happen seems well worth it.