How Do We Identify Good Ideas? source
The inconsistency of genius is a consistent theme of creativity: Even those blessed with ridiculous talent still produce works of startling mediocrity. (The Beatles are the exception that proves the rule, although their subsequent solo careers prove that even Lennon and McCartney were fallible artists.) The larger point is that mere imagination is not enough, for even those with prodigious gifts must still be able to sort their best from their worst, sifting through the clutter to find what’s actually worthwhile.
Nietzsche stressed this point. As he observed in his 1878 book Human, All Too Human:
Artists have a vested interest in our believing in the flash of revelation, the so-called inspiration … shining down from heavens as a ray of grace. In reality, the imagination of the good artist or thinker produces continuously good, mediocre or bad things, but his judgment, trained and sharpened to a fine point, rejects, selects, connects…. All great artists and thinkers are great workers, indefatigable not only in inventing, but also in rejecting, sifting, transforming, ordering.Notice the emphasis on rejection. Nietzsche eloquently describes the importance of not just creating but recognizing the value of what has been created.
But this raises the obvious question: How can we sort our genius from our rubbish? The bookshelves groan with how-to guides for bolstering the powers of the imagination. But how can we become better at self-criticism? How can we get excel at the rejection process? Because nobody wants to release Self-Portrait.
A new study led by Simone Ritter of the Radboud University in the Netherlands sheds some light on this mystery. In the first experiment, 112 university students were given two minutes to come up with creative ideas that might alleviate a mundane problem: improving the experience of waiting in line at a cash register. The subjects were then divided into two groups: Half of them went straight to work, while the others were first instructed to perform an unrelated task for two minutes. (They played a silly little videogame.) The purpose of this delay was to give the unconscious a chance to percolate, to let that subterranean supercomputer invent new concepts for the supermarket queue.
There was no difference between the groups in terms of creative output — both the conscious and unconscious/distracted subjects came up with the same number of new ideas. Although previous studies have found an impressive link between unconscious incubation and the imagination — it really is better to sleep on it — that result was not replicated here, perhaps because two minutes of distraction wasn’t long enough. (True creativity takes time.)
Here’s where things get interesting. After writing down as many ideas as they could think of, both groups were asked to choose which of their ideas were the most creative. Although there was no difference in idea generation, giving the unconscious a few minutes now proved to be a big advantage, as those who had been distracted were much better at identifying their best ideas. (An independent panel of experts scored all of the ideas.) While those in the conscious condition only picked their most innovative concepts about 20 percent of the time — they confused their genius with their mediocrity — those who had been distracted located their best ideas about 55 percent of the time. In other words, they were twice as good at figuring out which concepts deserved more attention.
How can the rest of us get better at identifiying our best ideas? One key lesson from this research is that distraction and dilettantism come with real benefits, as they give the unconscious a chance to assess its new ideas. This reminds me of a wise piece of advice from Zadie Smith, which she dished out to aspiring novelists:
When you finish your novel, if money is not a desperate priority, if you do not need to sell it at once or be published that very second — put it in a drawer. For as long as you can manage. A year or more is ideal — but even three months will do…. You need a certain head on your shoulders to edit a novel, and it’s not the head of a writer in the thick of it, nor the head of a professional editor who’s read it in twelve different versions.Smith, in other words, is telling writers to forget about their work, to give the mind some time to weigh the worth of all those words. And that’s because we have no idea which ideas are worthwhile, at least at first. So the next time you invent something new, don’t immediately file a patent, or hit the “publish” button, or race to share the draft with your editor. Instead, take a few days off: Play a stupid videogame, or go for a long walk, or sleep on it. Unless you take a brief break, you won’t be able to accurately assess what you’ve done.
But waiting isn’t the only approach. A few years ago, a team of German researchers gave several dozen subjects a variety of word puzzles known as remote associate problems. The puzzles feature three words (such as “pine,” “crab” and “sauce”) that share a common compound word. (In this case, the answer is “apple.”) Here’s the clever part: Only some of these remote associate problems had an actual answer. The rest were impossible. Interestingly, the scientists found that subjects in a positive mood were far better at figuring out which remote associate problems could be solved and which were a waste of effort. In fact, even when they didn’t end up finding the solution, those who were happy were much better at figuring out which problems had solutions. As a result, they wasted much less time searching for epiphanies that didn’t exist, or chasing down possibilities that didn’t pan out.
So yes: Taking a break is important. But make sure you do something that makes you happy, as positive moods make us even better at diagnosing the value of our creative work. After a few relaxing days of vacation, you’ll suddenly know which new ideas deserve more time and which need to be abandoned. Because even Bob Dylan wrote a few songs he probably shouldn’t have sung.
P.S. For more, check out this excellent Tom Jacobs summary of the research.
Original source http://unclutterer.com/2012/03/26/build-your-uncluttering-and-organizing-skills-by-helping-others/
Sometimes you've got a great organization plan and you're ready to move on it. Other times, you stare at a desk, a closet, or a room, and you feel utterly hopeless. Try helping out someone else with their clutter to get some new perspective and ideas.
Erin Doland of the Unclutterer blog notes that a big part of her advancement as a writer came when she was forced to explain and back up writing rules for students. Helping friends out with their own projects, and forcing yourself to explain the choices you're suggesting, can clarify your beliefs and expand your thinking. But you don't need to have friends in need to get outside your own problems:
If your friends aren't game for such an activity, donate some of your time to a charity to clean out and organize a soup kitchen pantry or a game room at a women's shelter or a clothing closet for a group that provides clothes for job interviews. Mentor your children by bringing them with you to sort materials at a charity's donation site. You don't have to work with people you know to build your skills, and it's often easier to work with items void of your sentimental attachments.
What have you learned by helping friends and relatives with their organization projects—other than how many magazines the average person can do without?
|||||||||||||How to Attend a Conference as Yourself|||||||||||||||I often feel awkward when I go to a conference. Reluctant to sidle up to a stranger and introduce myself, I roam, like I did at college parties, self-conscious, seltzer water in hand, not fitting in. In the midst of a sea of people chatting away enthusiastically, I am uncomfortable and alone.
But when my plane from New York landed in Austin, Texas for South By Southwest, the music, film, and interactive conference, I was excited. I was speaking on a panel and, since everyone told me SXSW is a blast, I had given myself an extra day to explore the conference.
But it didn't play out like I had hoped. I arrived just in time for my panel, then I did a book signing for 18 Minutes and then, well, then I was at a conference. I went to a conference party and just stood there, shy, embarrassed, and reluctant to reach out and meet people.
I was annoyed with myself. What's my deal?
I was about to leave when I thought, instead of judging myself, why not take this as an opportunity to explore an uncomfortable emotion? So I stood there and felt what awkward felt like.
It felt awkward. But, soon, I recognized something deeper behind my shyness, something more pernicious.
Once I finished the panel, I had no role and no purpose. I realized that when I'm not accomplishing something, I'm not sure who I am. I was having a conference-generated identity crisis.
My sense of self is dangerously close to my sense of role. I'm a writer, a speaker, a consultant, a father, a husband, a skier, etc. But who am I when I'm not actively being those things? Who am I'm without my accomplishments — past, present, or future?
Just me. Which, it turns out, was unsettling.
I don't think I'm alone. It's why, within a minute of meeting someone, we begin to define ourselves by our roles, our status, and our relationships to others. We think it's because other people need that information to know us.
But standing alone at that party I realized I'd been fooling myself. Other people don't need that information to know me. I need that information to know myself.
Once I understood the source of my discomfort, I resisted the urge to drop a name or tell people I had just given a talk or written a book or something else to identify a solid role for myself that would make me look and feel good.
Instead, I paid attention to what it felt like to be without any identity other than my presence. I noticed my desire to be noticed and my feelings of insecurity. But I also noticed my feeling of strength, and of trust in my observations and in myself. I began to relax and, once I did, I didn't feel nearly as insecure.
Then something funny happened. People started to approach me.
Out of the blue, a woman walked over and introduced herself to me and we started talking. Then she waved a colleague over. They didn't know me and weren't looking for anything from me, nor I from them. We were just three people connecting. As soon as we parted, a man came over. Again, I introduced myself by name but not by role. Again, we had a great conversation and a nice, human connection.
I didn't tell people that I'm a writer or that I run a consulting company or any other role-defining facts. I just met them as Peter. And they met me as themselves.
It took some getting used to, especially at a conference where we tend to define ourselves by our roles and people talk to each other while looking around to see if there's someone more useful to talk to.
But it's a mistake to launch in to your business plan when you meet someone new — even at a conference where the point is to peddle your business plan. People invest in you first, then your plan. So show them you first, then your plan.
That's precisely why shedding our roles — at least initially — even at a conference and even if there is something we want from others, is such a good idea.
People will trust you if you trust yourself. And to trust yourself you have to step out from behind the curtain. You have to expose yourself, free of titles and status. When you allow people to see you — as impressive and vulnerable as you are — then they will trust you. Because they will know you.
So how, at a conference when you don't know anyone, can you engage in a conversation without identifying your role? It's not easy. You'll be fighting against the tide. But try asking open-ended questions and try getting personal. Eventually you'll find out more about your fellow conference-goers and they'll find out more about you.
A conference is just a bunch of human beings bumping into other human beings. Most of whom feel awkward about it. Most of whom, more than anything, would love to be seen for who they are, not just the roles they represent. We can give that to each other.
It might be awkward at first. But I think it's our best shot at having a meaningful experience in a situation that often leaves us feeling shallow. That's clearly good for us. And it might just be good for business too.
|||||||||||||||||||||TELECOM SCAMMERS|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
The short-term incentive for new pricing is obvious. One can see the $$$ signs exploding in some corporate executive’s mind at the revenue opportunity these new data plans represent.
AT&T faced significant customer discontent when it first announced its new pricing plan; it has about 17 million "unlimited" subscribers, most of whom use iPhones. However, it plans to charge $10 per additional GB beyond its basic offering of 2 GB at $25 per month and $30 for 3GB;Verizon has tiers of $30 for 2 GB, $50 for 5 GB, and $80 for 10 GB per month.
The telcos are, therefore, shifting their respective business models away from heavy investments in wirelines – the optical fiber landline networks that are the backbone of America’s communications network – to the cheaper and (due to deregulation) more profitable wireless businesses. AT&T and Verizon have stopped building out their most advanced wireline networks, U-verse and FiOS, respectively. This shift will only further erode the nation’s communications capabilites.
The 21st century is witnessing more and more people shifting their telecommunications life to mobile devices. As this happens, wireless spectrum is being turned into a scarce, precious commodity. To do so, the providers of digital data transport, the great middlemen, AT&T and Verizon, are buying up all available spectrum, thus acquiring greater control over the flow of wireless data. In this process, they have become the digital spigots of social life, affecting much of communications, commerce, politics and intellectual experience.
Most scandalous, the customer – really, the American public – has paid, through fees, taxes and surcharges, for the development of the nation’s private, corporate-controlled and increasingly unregulated wireless network. And while the telco companies have gotten fat, what has the consumer gotten?
The telecom trust’s shift from wireline to wireless raises a serious technical questions: how much data traffic can wireless networks support?
Wireless providers, led by Verizon, are warning that they are facing capacity crunch or bandwidth congestion, that the proverbial sky is falling. To address this alleged problem, they must acquire more wireless spectrum and introduce throttling to dissuade large-data usage.
Their argument frames this as a supply-vs-demand issue, good-old traditional capitalism. In this spirit, the telecom trust argues that the digital debate is based on a new media culture of scarcity. They insist that their networks are simply overwhelmed by an ever-increasing demand for digital voice, audio, text, interactivity and video.
The analysis places the burden for the country’s pathetic wireless – and wireline – system onto the customer for wanting too much. This is a false argument, shifiting the inadequacies of wireless networks failure away from the operators. These service providers have not invested in upgrading the networks but crème-skimming long-term investments to meet demands of short-term profit and providing generous compensation to executive and returns to shareholders.
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