Observed

Finding a needle in one of Monet's summer haystacks illustrates Cognitive Impenetrability. That's the struggle we have when our brains are asked to filter out the clutter of the ordinary in search of the extraordinary. Such as being able to create a good sentence in the midst of a relentless torrent of psychic, creative noise.

First, take a look at Writing Tip #4.

OK, now consider this one, where I wrote about how something might become harder to do the harder I try.  It introduces the theory of Cognitive Impenetrability.

That’s a way to describe how hard it is to find something when what we’re are looking for is rare.  For some reason, as radiologists and the TSA know, our ability to see it decreases.  Or, as Harvard prof Jeremy Wolfe says, “…if you don’t find it often, you often don’t find it.”

Same with writing a good sentence, especially when it’s the first thing on a blank page.  It’s like finding a lucid needle in the crowded and chaotic haystack of our brains.

The radiologist is trained to pause — one more time — before reporting that an x-ray is negative for cancer.  They effectively take a break.

That’s what I recommend writers do, too.

Personal calendars have roots in common with the secular timekeeping that flourished in the 15th Century in places like Piazza San Marco. Watches eventually joined these highly visible and audible clocks in helping us be where we needed to be, when we needed to be there. Do tangible, analog calendars respond to the same urge to be mindful?

There’s an interesting piece in this morning’s New York Times about our current calendar-keeping preferences.  Well, I’ve used both digital and analog — at different times — and know the advantages and disadvantages of both first-hand.

I’ve migrated back to an analog week-at-a-glance, and here’s something I’ve noticed that the Times barely touches on:

A hard-copy calendar helps me stay much more mindful of the what, who, when and where of my life.

When I have a tactile connection with my calendar, I have a level and type of awareness that I lack when my stuff is in the clouds — literally and figuratively.

It’s a feeling that reminds me of the difference we experience when we read a book or article on-line as opposed to spread out in front of us.  I’ve heard that the average reader reads 25 percent slower on-line, perhaps because it takes more time, energy and focus to be mindful on-line.

Imagine a Web site where you could have a seamless, live chat with a customer service rep, 24/7. LiveAdmins does this. Nifty, yes?

When I write content for a site, I’m trying to make the user feel as if they were in a conversation. The sound, look and feel of the copy are meant to engage and involve the visitor.

So, it was really cool to stumble on LiveAdmins.  It’s a Web tool that offers a visitor the option to be part of a real-time conversation that supports the user’s experience while it enhances the site owner’s prospecting.

Or, as they describe themselves on their Facebook page:

We provide online customer support services through Live Chat. Our company is also proactively involved in providing exposure to our clients products through efficient Internet Marketing strategies.

Even the most creative force in modern architecture admits to having little if any idea how he creates. Gehry seems to understand, however, that it helps to bring his fears out of Shadow and put them on the tip of his pen.

At the beginning of Sketches of Frank Gehry, the director, Sydney Pollock, asks the great architect a great question.

“Is starting hard?”

Gehry replies.

You know it is.  I don’t know what you do when you start, but I clean my desk.  I make a lot of stupid appointments that I make sound important.

Avoidance.  Delay.  Denial.

I’m always scared that I’m not going to know what to do.  It’s a terrifying moment.

And then, when I start, I’m always amazed.  ‘Oh, that wasn’t so bad.’

How true.

Next time you're stumped in a crossword, put your pencil (or pen) down and walk away. Forget about it. Come back in a few hours or days and you'll be amazed to see solutions where before you were stuck. Same with writing or, perhaps, just about anything else creative.

I rarely do my best writing when I’m trying to do too many things at once.  Or, when I’m too tired.  Plus, I know that the first thing I write is seldom the best I write.  Know what I mean?

Turns out that these observations follow a common thread…and have some science connecting them.

I re-discovered a great story that illustrates this.  Last summer, The New York Times reported about five neuroscientists who spent a week in late May 2010 in a remote area of southern Utah, rafting the San Juan River, camping on the soft banks and hiking the tributary canyons.

It was a primitive trip with a sophisticated goal: to understand how heavy use of digital devices and other technology changes how we think and behave, and how a retreat into nature might reverse those effects.

The five reached a rough consensus, agreeing more or less that heavy exposure to technology and other stimulation leaves less room in our brains for storing and integrating ideas.

So, do what I do.  When I get stuck in a crosswords puzzle, for example, I’m amazed how I can solve clues after I put the paper aside and come back to it way later.  Or, when I look at a draft of whatever I’m writing a day or two later…and often discover all sorts ways to make improvements.

Seth, BTW, may have tapped into something similar when he suggested that you get a fresh set of eyes to challenge whatever you’re writing, building or designing.

But before you click on one more thing, turn off, tune out and take a break.  Your brain (and clients) will thank you.

Sooner or later, we all dig a hole for ourselves. What to do? First, stop digging. Next, if there's bad news to deliver, deliver it yourself.

When you’ve dug yourself a public relations hole, the first thing to do is PUT DOWN THE SHOVEL.

Kentucky’s governor, Steve Beshear, recently demonstrated the wisdom of this maxim.

The hole first got dug last May, when President Obama made a last-minute visit to Fort Campbell, Kentucky, to visit troops.  The story immediately got away from the governor when he told the press that he  couldn’t re-arrange his schedule to welcome the president.

Recently discovered facts, however, lead to an entirely different truth.  Thanks to enterprise reporting by the Associated Press, we’ve learned about some e-mails that prove that the governor was never invited to Fort Campbell in the first place.

Instead of delivering that news himself three months ago, Governor Beshear is now back-pedaling in the naive hope that the media and his political opponents will turn loose of this juicy bone.

So, two lessons:  First, when there’s some bad or embarrassing news, it’s wise to put that news out there first yourself.  And, second, when you find yourself in a hole you’ve dug, best put down the shovel that got you there. (more…)