Winning, Losing, or Not Playing

In success-oriented media, there is a lot of talk of winning and losing. I agree that organizational systems should seek to be "win-win" as opposed to "win-lose". In a win-win structure, there is some form of transaction whereupon two sides agree to a mutual exchange of value. In a win-lose structure, the goal is to use some form of force or exploitation (however subtle) to "get the better" of the other side.

Strangely, many performance leaders who teach win-win principles still tend to speak in sports analogies, which are always win-lose. By necessity, one team must win and one team must lose. Even a discussion of self-mastery in the individual as a key to team victory goes by way of one team winning and one team losing.

But how can both teams win? They can't. It is an artificial system of scarcity (there being only one trophy) which is designed to force a display of performance. It neither promotes nor rewards the different ways in which the teams are valuable, it merely applauds the victor. This may be fine for performers, but it is damaging to the psyche of creators.

All this success talk using the words "winners" and "losers" implies that to succeed is to play a game well. This is not the case.

To succeed as a creator, one must master his ability to learn about the world, then subsequently compose an expression of its truths. He cannot lose so long as he does not abandon the learning process. He cannot win, because he is not playing a game. His success cannot be called a "win" any more than exploring a jungle and drafting a map can be called such.

His art is a valuable artifact, measured in quality by a group of people who seek its usefulness. A different group may value a different map—say a topographical rather than geographical one—and would therefore require the efforts of a different creator. These two creators are not in competition, they are not playing. They are merely offering a composition of a truthful perspective to those who seek it.

You Have to Not Have to to Want to

This is an intentially confusing title, so that you have to think about it. Or rather, so that you want to think about it. Reading this blog is a voluntary act, after all. Are you picking up what I'm throwing down?

In this book, Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us, Daniel Pink explains how incentives to perform—"carrot and stick" rewards—tend to destroy productivity. While these incentives work well for mechanical tasks, they actually reduce the quality of performance for more cognitive tasks. Actually, the science says that most people would much rather do such work for a sense of purpose. In other words, we're looking for "spiritual" rewards rather than "material" rewards.

In RSA Animate's video summary of Drive, Pink refers to a software company called Atlassian. Their approach to this problem is once a quarter to give employees 24 hours of free time to work on whatever they want to—complete autonomy. This greatly increases performance; more bugs are eliminated, new products created, etc. Essentially, this proposed solution is to give more free time wherein people don't "have to" do anything.

This method makes sense because, beyond satisfying basic living expenses, people want to follow their interests. A person has infinitely more energy to explore what they are interested in that what they are not. In a rigid system of obligations to a superior, a person might become interested in a certain lead, but neglect to follow it because of other more pressing duties. Autonomy gives him the resources to pursue what only he can see and fix.

Apparently, there is something in our hearts that sinks under the pressure of imposed responsibilities. Without the lightness and enthusiasm possible only in freedom, certain solutions cannot be seen and certainly cannot be executed. Our desire to pursue our own interests as we define them is essential to free living. It is surprising what we can achieve when we want to, but you have to not "have to" to "want to."

How Much Change is Enough?

Simply stated: the right amount. From a grocery store transaction standpoint, there is one clear answer. It is neither too much nor too little. It is a balance; a FIT state. When a clerk counts back your change, there are certain bounding elements that are external to the desires of either party. Natural laws of fairness dictate that neither party get the better of the other.

However, this is not as clear cut or universal with regards to person change. Change, in both senses, merely indicates a difference between one thing and another. In the grocery store, your change is the difference between what you owed and what you gave (a $20 bill, say). In life, your change is the difference between who you are now, and who you become through education and experience. That education—or more precisely, what you gain from it—is the difference.

While I don't believe it is possible to be over-educated in general—especially when the education is broad—it is possible to take too many things to heart. In this way, an individual can needlessly toil to change himself in areas where the benefits of such a change are not worth the cost. Each individual is different from every other individual, of course, so this process must necessarily be tailored to suit each.

For example, a person who is an extrovert might find it difficult to focus on a lecture, daydreaming of more action-centered activities. They can't wait to get out in the field—for sports, sales calls, parties, or networking. They struggle to follow endless charts and graphs, even those which accurately depict the current situation and ought to equip them of their next move. Should they be trained in the art of memorizing these graphs, or should they simply be allowed to learn from trial and error?

In the opposite case—and, I believe, a more widespread problem—a person who is an introvert finds it difficult to focus at a party, desperately planning an escape. They can't wait to get away from the action—to recover themselves; to collect, categorize, and formulate an understanding. They struggle to take in the endless tidbits of information, when the real focus is merely to meet a great many people. Should they be trained in the art of networking, or should they simply be allowed the time to fully absorb each interaction?

Ultimately, the answer to the question depends upon and understanding of where you are right now, and where you want to be at some defined point in the future. Note that while the span of time between now and a dated goal varies by the goal and the person, for everyone who has a goal it is essential to commit to the date. When you set a date for well-defined goal, and begin to understand where you are right now, you can plot a course to change.

This too, varies from a learn-by-doing process to a carefully composed plan. Nevertheless, the main lesson here is that when we understand our strengths, we must utilize those strengths. For every strength in our character, we have correlating weakness. Never attempt to reach a goal by changing your inherent weaknesses. While this can be done, it is rarely worth it. Weaknesses should not be ignored—they are real obstacles—but for those boulders whose destruction risks the destruction of a correlating strength—again, it's not worth dying over.

Who? or Why?

There is a difference between the way a tradition murder mystery handles the perpetrator and the way a serial killer mystery does. A bloody topic to treat so lightly, I realize. However, murder mysteries in their core construct represent the very basics of all mysteries, however nebulous the "crime" and/or the "perpetrator" be. As J.J. Abrams remarked, "Mystery is the catalyst for imagination." And imagination is very important to creativity.

In a traditional murder mystery—or "whodunnit" mystery—the identity of the perpetrator in all its parts is kept strictly a secret. A series of clues mixed with misleading evidence teases the audience with a list of suspects. For this to happen, the audience must first meet the suspects. This must be a group of people equally capable and motivated to have carried out the act—at least at first, until suspects are eliminated by new information.

To reveal that the actually killer is not a person we had met, is to have cheated the audience out of any hope of figuring it out. Incidentally, to give the audience so much information about the killer that they do figure it out is to disappoint them. A good whodunnit delicately balances the audience's desire to solve the mystery themselves with the desire to remain challenged to the last.

By contrast, a serial killer mystery is a different animal. Unlike whodunnits, serial killer mysteries like "Se7en" aren't so much about "who?" as "why?" Typically the motivating factor for the detectives is a question of "when?"—as in "when is he going to strike again?" A story of this nature becomes a thriller as they try to determine the "why?" in order to get ahead of his plan and stop him.

"Who" a serial killer is, is a "serial killer." He is defined by his MO. In other words, the real villain of these stories is not a person at all, but the diabolical plan he is executing. In this way, the structure of a serial killer story has much in common with any conspiracy or manipulation story, regardless of the presence of impending murder. When a construct is laid for a large plan which is destined to wreak havoc (by design or because of flaws) similar methods of profiling the purpose and ideology of the perpetrator(s) is used.

Therefore, this type of story tends to open the door to deeper levels of philosophical implications. In the case of "Se7en" (affiliate link) the killer's plan is to make a demonstration of the "7 Deadly Sins" of Catholic literature. The film itself invokes Dante's Inferno (affiliate link), and makes a similarly gruesome display of sin and punishment. The irony is that the killer is acting as a sort of dark angel, delivering "God's message" through sin itself—even though I rather think the creators drop the ball at the end when assigning him the deadly sin he is guilty of.

All-in-all the point is that to be fulfilling and long-lasting, fiction must involve the viewers in the process of the story. Furthermore, it must lead them to areas of thought previously unexplored. This is the essential fascination with mysteries. Superficial mysteries of the "Clue" variety make for fun entertainment, but soon all seem alike. No matter the number and style of twists, "who" is still just an average person—boring.

Impact and Influence

A while back I wrote an article entitled Force and Fallout, which touches on the concept that an artist uses his force of will to create a great work. This impact generates a fallout-like residual effect. However, the more I think about these words, the more I find myself using them in the negative. What I mean is, these words are culturally loaded to describe unfavorable circumstances more than favorable ones.

When I was composing the article, I did feel a sense that I was not communicated my idea clearly, but lacked any other words to use. In rethinking this edifice now, it seems to me that an artist's work has more of an "impact." Related words, certainly, but with different attitudes.

"Impact" seems to express a willing movement among those on which it has an impact. For whatever reason, it invokes the image of a meteor (an otherworldly object) falling to Earth. People gather out of curiosity to marvel at the strange spectacle. Why it doesn't invoke images of death and destruction, I can't say.

Rather than fallout, a meteor would generate influence. This is perhaps the fault of a multitude of science fiction plots dealing with a similar scenario. Meteor falls to Earth, people gain strange superpowers, etc. In any case, the initial impact is sure to generate ripples which change things—even a little. Word about the spectacle spreads, and more people come to view and be changed by it.

But contrast "impact" and "influence" with the original terms of "force" and "fallout," to see a very different picture. The former are set out before a willing audience, and run their course naturally. The latter are introduced in such as way as to get beyond natural defenses, and so wreak havoc.

While both are a surprise, an "impact" is welcome, while "force" is unwelcome. Furthermore, "influence" is voluntary according the value of the impact. In other words, a meteor is only interesting for a short period of time after which it's just a rock. "Fallout" is not restricted by natural barriers because it has been forced past the audience's defensive filters—either by overwhelming them or by exploiting a weakness in them.

Many well-meaning "artists" exploit emotional channels, rely heavily on pervasive media, and/or lobby for government programs to get their message across. They want to change the world for the better. The trouble is, each person or minority group that tries to do this has a specific definition of what a better world looks like. When an idea is forced upon a populace—perfect as it may be for many—it necessary creates a fallout of animosity and other degenerative epidemics.

When people are allowed to choose, many will say "no" to perfectly good ideas. This is normal. If it's truly a good idea, they'll come around eventually.

Signs

Some people swear by the guidance of "signs." By this, of course, I am not talking about road signs. I am talking about coincidences which, in a certain context, can be thought of as an indicator of either correct or incorrect action. Sometimes these refer back to a choice that was made, and seem to define whether or not it was a good choice.

More often, however, people are fixated on signs that foretell something about a coming choice, or the results of a present choice. Part of this is fear. We try to externalize a decision we don't want to make. Therefore, we attach the decision to some arbitrary coincidence and call it "the will of God," etc.

The other part, is wisely differing to the "still small voice" within. Most of the time, difficult choices have a logical answer. The problem arises when emotions get involved. I should note here that emotions have their own brand of "logic," and must be considered as part of the decision.

When emotions are attached to a decision, fear clouds judgement. Our tendency is to make haste to relieve the tension by going with the loudest choice—the emotional one. Usually, we already know this is the wrong the choice, or there would be no indecision in the first place. What we need is something to crystalize the right choice, so it can withstand the flurry of noisy fears.

It is actually impossible to externalize a personal decision using anything other than another thinking person. In the absence of a qualified mentor, we look to signs to give us the extra push we need. I often flip a coin to make menial decisions—ones where I don't think I care about the outcome, but need to make some choice.

The interesting thing about this custom of coin-flipping is that it reveals the truly internal nature of such a process of decision making. Next time you try this, pay attention to your own feelings. I've been divided between two choices, flipped a coin (to externalize the decision), then felt I'd rather do the opposite choice. The coin's landing (the sign) doesn't control you, it merely reveals the choice you knew was right in the first place.

Use signs wisely. Don't follow blindly, but let them reveal the path.

September '10: The Month in Posts

Now is the time of the month when I have tasked myself to reexamining my previous posts. Both to weed out the bad and incomplete and to select the best of the best. This month has been on of the most difficult months for me to select the best from the rest. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I am humbly proud of the compositions that have flowed through me. All that I can say with confidence is that I'm getting really good at capturing my own thoughts in writing—whether or not I am communicating clearly to others, and whether or not I am correct, remains to be seen.

Composition and Execution, part 1 - September 5, 2010

In my last post, I arrived at the conclusion that the fundamental difference between what I call "creators" and "performers" is in their focus on either composition or execution, respectively. I think it will be valuable to further explore the implications of this conclusion for a variety of societal roles. (read more)

Parental Guidance - September 7, 2010

"Parental Guidance" implies the parents' involvement. It is not meant to serve merely as a gauge of whether or not a child is allowed to watch something. It is as foolish to keep difficult media from a child who may learn lessons from it, as it is to blindly hand any media to a child regardless of the content's rating or the child's preparedness. Media is not a babysitter! (read more)

Initiative and Ambition - September 15, 2010

There is a myth that creative people don't like to take initiative. In today's execution-focused, performance-based world of work, initiative is seen mostly as an interpersonal quality which sets a leader apart from the rest. In reality, creative people simply have a less visible form of initiative. Because they compose a work as their primary form of productive action, initiative isn't seen by outsiders until the work is completed. And even then, it isn't appreciated on its own merit, but dismissed as "you have to start somewhere." (read more)

"Revenge of the Introvert" - September 28, 2010

The success culture in the United States is extremely biased toward performance, or "the playing of a prescribed game." This entails some manner of competition between people or teams, and focuses heavily on sales and marketing. All-in-all this requires skills native predominantly to the extravert. This means that a great number of introverts are being forced or are forcing themselves into roles (particularly at work) that are "counter-dispositional." Either that, or they settle for mediocrity at work, keeping their passions as hobbies. (read more)