Cory Doctorow: Copying is the source of creativity

Cory Doctorow is a great writer with a fascinating mind. He writes around the edges of the science fiction genre about themes like intellectual property,  information economies, informatics, censorship, and internet connectivity. If you think he sounds like a nerd, you’d be right. He’s a nerd’s nerd. I say that with great admiration.

Doctorow spent several years at the Electronic Frontier Foundation working on information policy issues related to copyright and intellectual property. Doctorow has become a powerful voice in the movement against Digital Rights Management software. DRM is the stuff that makes eBooks impossible to share or use the way you use paper-based books. DRM is the stuff that makes “owning” eBooks a fundamentally different experience than owning a paper-based book. He writes a lot about the concept of ownership and how we try to manage ideas as property.

You should read his books and essays to learn more about that.

Doctorow generally opposes the idea that piracy is an author’s worst enemy. In fact, Doctorow gives electronic copies of his books away for free in the belief that free copies increases his reading audience which, in turn, drives more sales. It seems to be working for him.

I admire Doctorow for his ability to reduce complex, abstract ideas to their essential core. He makes big ideas small enough for me to carry around with me and share with other people.

This recent interview in the Bizarre Assemblage is a great example. This is how he describes the role of copying in creative works:

 I knew even before I went to work for EFF that there really wasn’t any way that you could prevent people from copying things that they wanted to copy. And I also understood that copying was not in and of itself evil. In fact, copying is kind of the basis of humanity. You know, four billion years ago some molecules used some process that we don’t understand to figure out how to copy themselves and we are their descendants  We have a name for things that don’t copy themselves: we call them dead. So it’s pretty hard to condemn copying as wrong when everybody biologically copies all the time. And I felt like, as an artist, there was something profoundly intellectually dishonest in proclaiming what I did to be original. Obviously I do a lot of verbatim copying as an artist and my life is filled with mixed tapes and with things that I copied as part of my journey, as it were, to becoming the person I am today. But also every time I write a novel, I copy Cervantes who invented the Western novel. And every time anyone writes a detective novel, you copy Edgar Allen Poe who invented the detective novel. And it’s very tempting to say well, what I’m doing is a creative input of what those people did. But I think that’s intellectually dishonest. And I think that if we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll admit that everything we do is creative and everything we do becomes plumbing for the next creative act.

He goes on to offer great advice to young writers: Write a lot. Write everyday. Great advice from a writer who has made a creative career that matters. Read his stuff. Study it. Copy it and make it your own. By making it your own, I mean add value. If you can add value to someone else’s ideas, you are making the world better for all of us. You are making “plumbing for the next creative act”.

My Prius ran out of gas

My Prius ran out of gas today, and I got stuck on the side of the road. Let’s put aside the too obvious irony of a hybrid running out of fossil fuel for a moment. This post isn’t about irony. This post is about embarrassment.

This was pretty much the most embarrassing thing that has happened to me in a long time. Embarrassing because my wife, daughter and friend were all trapped in the car with me. Embarrassing because I had just intentionally driven past a gas station a few minutes earlier. Embarrassing because the Add Fuel message had been coming up on the dash display for the past two days.

I love my 2007 Prius. It gets 45 to 48 miles per gallon, drives great and is very comfortable. I also love my Prius because the dash display provides real-time analytics. I’m a sucker  for charts, bar graphs and real-time data calculation. While driving, my Prius shows a bar graph of the average estimated fuel consumption. This is a bar that escalates up to 100 MPG from 0 MPG. The more you coast, the more the electric motor carries the car and the lower the fuel consumption, which means higher gas mileage. Every five minutes a new plot point appears on the elapsed drive time chart that shows the average gas consumption over the life of the trip. At the bottom of these lovely graphs, is a real-time numeric average of miles per gallon over the life of the trip or the tank of gas. I generally set this to reflect the average fuel consumption for the current tank of gas. Like I said, 45 to 48 miles per gallon.

When I fill up, I zero the gas mileage calculation and also the odometer reading for Trip A. I reserve Trip B for mileage between oil changes. The 2007 Prius has an 11.9 gallon gas tank.

Generally when I start the car on a low tank of gas, the Add Fuel message appears and then disappears. This occurred on Friday. I didn’t worry about it right away because I can drive many miles on just a little gas. No worries.

When my gas indicator gets low, I do a little math. I glance at the average gas mileage for the current tank of gas, then multiply by 10. Then, I add the average gas mileage to that number to get the number of miles I should get from an 11 gallon tank. I subtract the miles showing on the odometer from the estimated miles for 11 gallons of gas to figure my zone of safety.

Today, when I passed the gas station on the way into town, I estimated an additional 15 miles before getting close to Actual Empty. I thought I would do my town a favor and give them the sales tax on my fuel purchase.

My car slowed down, sputtered and stopped about five miles past the last gas station. I was completely baffled. My math was good. I should have had at least another 10 miles or more before needing to fill up. Math doesn’t matter when you are stuck on the side of road. Or maybe math matters more than you care to admit when you are stuck on the side of the road. In either case, I called my mom-in-law to stop by the house to get the gas can, then deliver the mercy gallon we needed to get to the gas station.

Rather than wait on the side of the road, my friend and I decided to push the car to a parking lot not far away. As often happens, while pushing the car, a couple of other guys stopped by to help push. We got the car to the parking lot easily enough. The guys offered a spare gallon of gas from their emergency tank but we already had help coming so we declined.

They laughed a little about pushing the hybrid, climbed into their big, fuel-thirsty pickup and drove off.

My mom-in-law showed up pretty quick, we gassed up and drove to the gas station for a complete fill. No harm done and no real danger.

I learned few valuable lessons.

First, the Prius actually holds 11.9 gallons but you only get to use a little less than 10 gallons of that because a certain amount of gas gets caught in the fuel filter and fuel lines.

Also, my five-year-old daughter enjoys the opportunity to lecture me about the importance of paying attention to the messages on my car display:

Finally, I can see that the major lesson here is one of choosing where to place your attention. I was, after all, paying very close attention to the graphs, charts and numbers on my dash and was using an overly complex, sophisticated system to determine when I needed to refuel. Math is powerful, but when your car display tells you to Add Fuel, it isn’t time to argue. Best to keep some things simple. Sometimes, you should just receive the message, say thank you and fill up.

The Best Part of My Day

I worked a 10 1/2 hour day today. It was a long day but also a good day.

I visited the Occupational Therapy Assisting program student mobile app presentations. This was the culminating moment in our semester-long work toward using iPads in the college classroom.

I received a nice compliment and words of encouragement from a colleague I respect very much.

I got home to a great dinner with my wife and daughter and then snuggled up with daughter on the couch to watch Johnny Test.

All good things, but the absolute best part of my day happened 20 minutes ago when my 5 year old daughter said, “Dad, I’m feeling very proud of myself. I’m growing up and learning lots of new things.”

Life is busy, noisy and chaotic at the edges. There is purpose in the center. Sometimes you have to find it. Sometimes it finds you.

For a future-oriented person like me, there is no better contribution to be made than being a dad and an educator.

Living Someone Else’s Dream

I teach at a community college and know that there are thousands and thousands of students with no idea of how they want to use their lives. Many are being trained for vocations in which they have little interest or enthusiasm. Somewhere along they way, these students have borrowed someone else’s dream. Some are starting on career paths with the belief that the point of their work will be to make money which will allow them the freedom to magically discover their interests and pursue a better life. That doesn’t happen. The pursuit of money fuels the cycle of disappointment.

Samsara is the Buddhist concept of being entrapped in the cycle of perpetual despair. We are trapped. Our children get trapped. Their children get trapped. We build lives that justify the experience of our suffering. We habituate ourselves to routines and expectations that do not serve us. Our children learn to do the same. They teach their children to do the same.

This doesn’t need to happen. Disappointment is a wheel. It doesn’t have to turn.

My wish for my students is to find a measure of the purpose Alan Watts describes in this video:

My hope is that more of my students can wake up to the realization that they are living someone else’s dream. They can stop the wheel and ask themselves, “What would I do if money were no object?” And then, they can commit themselves to learning about their true passions. Our world needs people who are awake and committed to becoming their best selves.

Fully Invested

Some of us are lucky. We have found the thing we love and are doing that thing every single day with every available once of energy, talent and focus.

Some of us are still searching. We are looking for that thing that ignites our passion and sets our mind on fire with the urge to create, build and improve.

For some of us, that thing is our work. For others, that thing sits outside our work. In either case, it is desperately important that we find that thing, pursue it and give over everything we have got.

I get frustrated. I get stuck. And then I see people like Ian Ruhter, fully invested and actively engaged with his gift to the world:

“If you had been searching your whole life for something you love, what would you be willing to sacrifice?” — Ian Ruhter

Note: This post was inspired by Trent Gillis’ post “What Would You Be Willing to Sacrifice?” at the On Being Blog. Take a look.

On Monsters by Stephen Asma | Book Review

Stephen Asma’s On Monsters offers an enjoyable, if somewhat fractured, survey of monsterology through the ages. Monsters pre-date horror films and ghost stories. The concept of the “monstrous” has always been part of human experience. Each age understands monsters differently. The first half of On Monsters explores evolving understandings of monsters. In general, monsters stand outside normal experience. Monsters personify those things we do not or cannot understand. Monsters are a manifest acknowledgement of the limits of human understanding. As these limits change, our monsters change. Monsters dwell in the places we believe to be unknowable.

For the ancients, the unknowable places were empty spots on the map. This gave us the great sea monsters and terrible, cannibalistic races that inhabited the oceans and unfamiliar continents.

In Biblical times, monsters were agents of God, mysterious and unfathomable. Think Leviathan.

The earliest monsters were thought to be part of the natural order. They walked among us and lived in places we could not or should not go.

Medieval monsters were supernatural – witches and demons. They didn’t live in a special place of their own. They lived everywhere and regularly intervened in the lives of the non-righteous.

With the Enlightenment, came the medical fascination with mutation and physical aberration in the human family. “Monsters” were no longer mythical. They were miscreants, captured and preserved in jars, and offering a measure of enjoyable frisson for collectors of oddities and the paying customers of these collections. The Mutter Museum is one of the most famous collections.

Over the past 200 years or so, our ideas about monsters have become internalized and have represented what we believe we cannot understand about ourselves. Modern times have been preoccupied with psychological monsters, like serial killers, tyrants and sociopaths.

Asma is at his best theorizing on the horror genre as the “art of human vulnerability”. He is particularly clever in his discussion of slasher films and “torture porn” and how they either explore or exploit the understood limits of human vulnerability to either empower or debase.

The second half of the book is less successful. Asma struggles with contemporary notions of the monstrous in the fields of cosmetic surgery, terrorism, robots and cyborgs. This is fertile ground for exploration but he does not bring these threads to any satisfying conclusion.

For most of human history, monsters were aberrations from the intended order of things. With the advent of biotechnologies and cybernetics we are faced with the possibility that there may be no final intended order of things. If there is no intended order to things, then some would suggest there can be no monsters. Everything becomes monstrous. Asma does not reject the promise of the new technologies to improve the quality of human life. But neither is he willing to abandon the concept of the monstrous as a useful indication of something still somewhat poorly defined.

Ideas Need Action

A few years ago, I had a great idea for a book I wanted to write. I never wrote it.

A few days ago, I watched a movie featuring the two lead characters from the book I never wrote. Turns out, someone else wrote it. And they did a good job.

Now I will probably never write that book because I have seen the characters I had imagined brought to life by somebody else.

I’m not angry or bitter or really even all that surprised. A brilliant idea is only brilliant when brought to life. Ideas need action. There is nothing I can dream that someone else can’t dream. Worse yet, there is probably nothing I have ever dreamed that someone else hasn’t already dreamed as well. Probably better.

And so the trick is to start working and keep working and not stop working until the dream is brought to life. It is a story or a play or a poem or a painting or an invention or whatever. Your idea needs action. Do it now. Someone else is doing it. You need to do it first or you will be watching someone else who has done it better.

Gratitude is a practice

I don’t call myself a Buddhist but there is much about the Buddhist approach to life that feels right to me. I am drawn to the belief that my life, and everything in my life, is practice. Not practice for an abstract, future-tense state of being where everything is perfect and all potential fulfilled. Not time-served through adversity to merit everlasting rest in unseen perpetual bliss.

I’m not talking heaven or nirvana or any other metaphysical end state. I’m talking about right here, right now.

Life as practice means everything I do and everything done to me is raw material. I can work with everything to be more fully present in my life. This, I think, is the point of life. Not worrying so much about future states of perfection at the expense of the present moment. The future is never what I expect nor what I believe I will need it to be. Much better to focus my attention on right now, which is, of course, always exactly as it is.

This is not a recipe for nihilism. This carries me toward selflessness.

If my life is my practice, then I can work with everything and everything belongs. Being happy is temporary. Being unhappy is temporary. Being sad, frustrated, angry, elated are all temporary. These emotional states change. They intensify, and they weaken. They disappear.

Gratitude, however, does not disappear. Gratitude remains constant. Gratitude is not a feeling. Gratitude is a practice.

This time of year my mind habitually produces lists of the great things I appreciate. This is the Count My Many Blessings approach to gratitude. Keep doing this, but don’t stop here.

Gratitude as practice means seeing, recognizing and appreciating those things in my that are uncomfortable, unpleasant or just plain difficult. This stuff is my life, too.

And so gratitude as practice requires a list of not-so-pleasant things that make my life as it is. This does not come naturally to me. This requires a lot of practice.

Here goes.

Less time managing time = more time getting things done

I’m that guy who believes there is some secret trick or some special technology waiting just around the corner that will unleash my full ability to work smarter, faster and better. I follow blogs about productivity and tweet using the #productivity hashtag. That’s right. I’m that guy.

That’s why, from time to time, I require simple, straightforward reminders like this one from Anthony Iannarino at The Sales Blog. Managing time isn’t hard. We all manage our time. We manage our time according to our priorities. Getting our priorities to line up with our best interests more difficult. That’s called managing yourself. When you manage your priorities well, time is not really a problem.

Have we lost our nerve?

Today’s work commute podcast was Radiolab’s REBROADCAST: Space which originally aired August 20, 2012. Radiolab is always intriguing and definitely worth a follow. They ask big, baffling questions. This particular episode was devoted to comprehending the immensity of the universe, the insignificance of our place in that universe, and our perverse, yet oddly inspiring, quest to find the edge of space.

Turns out, we won’t. There is no edge. Bummer.

Actually, the best moments were the opening and closing segments. The opening segment describes the Voyager project, in which we launched a space craft bearing an auditory record of human civilization out into space headed away from us at 35,000 miles per hour. The artifacts on this craft were intended to accessible a billion years into the future. The Voyager craft is an invitation to visit Earth. Even if discovered by some intelligent alien beings, the odds that their civilization and ours will exist simultaneously are very small. We will likely be extinct before they get born. Bummer again.

The final segment talks about the loss of ambition regarding space travel that followed the tragedies of the Space Shuttles Challenger and Columbia. We don’t like the idea of people dying for space exploration. The problem there is that people will have to die. People always die when exploring new territory. Thousands of Europeans died when they sailed, explored and settled the West. That’s how it works. Thousands of brave souls flinging themselves at an impossible obstacle until, incredibly, someone makes it across. Here’s the difference: the thousands who died then died in isolation. The dozens who die now die on live television.

And so our governments now lack the ability to take the risks involved to do audacious things. We lack the ability to make sacrifice part of the recipe for solving immense problems. And so we are trapped on our planet, for now. Until someone figures out a way to make the necessary leaps without government help. It will happen.

Listening, I couldn’t help recalling the MIT Review article I recently reviewed which spoke to the same problem. We have, for the moment, lost our ability to imagine solutions to intractable problems. We have, for the moment, lost our nerve.