introducing one minute TOA... but i compress

The first improv comedy show I ever saw illustrated the power of compression. The first skit lasted two minutes, then was followed by the same skit done in one minute, which was followed by the same skit done in thirty seconds, and so on. I think you get the idea. The process meant the initial two-minute scene with conversation, jokes, and movement was reduced to a final one-second scene where everyone looked at each other, then fell to the ground in unison.

I worry that this anecdote recommends the extreme application, so I'll clarify - if I were asked about the right level of compression for a two-minute scene, then I'd probably land on somewhere between fifteen and thirty seconds. I think that's how it should work in most cases - distilling down as far as possible might feel like a certain type of accomplishment, but I think the optimal compression would be something just above the bare minimum. I think this is an important point because I feel compression is an underrated tool across a wide range of pursuits - learning, comedy, and packing a suitcase are just a few examples that come to mind. It's an especially critical skill in communication, and I often find myself introducing this concept when I sense it may help another person improve their message. For example, last week I was helping a colleague write an email about an unusual and somewhat challenging problem. I read through the ten or so sentences in the first draft, then asked - if you had to replace this draft with only one sentence, what would you say? We took that one sentence, lightly edited, and made it the first sentence of the email. From there, it became obvious which parts of the first draft could be reduced or deleted, and in the end we sent out a short and sweet message, around four sentences long, where the main idea was clearly stated at the top of the email.

The idea of reducing everything to its smallest possible size has shades of a buzzword, perhaps coined by a malfunctioning ChatGPS deep in the bowels of the TedTalks-LinkedIndustrial Complex, but I think it's still worth making the effort just to see if you get anywhere with it. I know sometimes it's better to practice than to preach, so I'm happy to demonstrate my own commitment to the cause by trying a TOA version of this idea - "One Minute TOA". The point is to take some of my posts and compress them down to what I consider its point - most likely the idea, lesson, or conclusion I hoped to share with the reader. I'm not sure which posts I'll pick for these compressions but I suspect they'll likely be the ones best-received by readers or those that I worry might have lost its message in the mess of my writing.

What will such an exercise look like? Well, we can start with the post so far as an example. Here's the "One Minute TOA" of the above:

Compression helps with comprehension, whether that regards something in existence or yet to be created, and with improved comprehension we stand a better chance of finding the next step in our specific project, situation, or communication.

What I'm looking forward to the most about "One Minute TOA" is the likelihood that it will reveal where I actually don't understand my own work. I shared a few weeks ago that one unanticipated challenge of TOA is how writing about a topic sets a higher standard for writing about the same topic again (this sentence, I suppose, is another "One Minute TOA"). This is because the first post would cover my simplest thinking on the subject, which in turn leaves subsequent writing for dealing with the more challenging considerations. However, it's easy to assume writing proves comprehension, or that previously writing about a topic ensures I understood it at that time. The catch is that recognizing such flaws in my own work isn't easy if I just reread it. The task of compression takes this a step further, forcing me to state the essence of the work, so if I'm unable to do so then I'll know that the post was about a topic which requires additional thinking.

reading clearout - august 2022

Hi readers, here's my reading summary from August.

As promised last time, I'll note the books that made it to my 2022 book of the year shortlist. Only one made it from the group below - It's OK That You're Not OK. Let's start there.

It's OK That You're Not OK by Megan Devine

There's a line from Devine's website that reads like an explanation for this book - most of what passes for grief support is less than useful. It's OK That You're Not OK expands on that thought from a variety of angles - outlining the problems of common grieving advice; establishing her personal philosophy toward grieving, which is rooted in both personal experience and professional expertise; and sharing practical guidance for those carrying their grief. In addition to writing this excellent work, Devine also leads Refuge In Grief, linked above, which is like a real-time manifestation of the book in terms of its support, guidance, and education for the grieving. I plan to write more about this book in the near future.

The Other Ones by Dave Housley

Housley's novel wins on premise alone - what happens in an office when some coworkers split a giant prize from their lottery pool? The focus of this book is only partially on the winners, with most of the attention given to those who remain behind - the "other ones". I enjoyed the read and would recommend it to anyone who is intrigued by the premise, but for me it was more really good rather than great, limited perhaps by my feeling that The Other Ones never quite escaped light reading territory.

Marathon by Hal Higdon

Marathon A to Z by Hal Higdon

I picked out these two books a few days after registering for my first marathon. The two titles differ mostly in their structure - Marathon is a traditionally designed full guide for runners while Marathon A to Z is a collection of short reminders and insights (somewhat resembling the structure of a daily page-a-day calendar). My choice of author is no accident - I relied on Higdon's website throughout the training process, reaching the finish line after following a combination of Novice 1 and Novice 2 (with a touch of Intermediate 1).

Oddly enough, the most applicable note to me was possibly the first one I took down from the book - a good excuse for marathon training is the way it focuses the mind in an activity I already do. This basically described my exact situation - I notice around ten weeks before the race that my mileage logs were roughly aligned to one of his training plans, so I signed up for a race and committed to the training plan for the next couple of months. The programs all have a basic "step back to move up" structure where the weekly mileage (and longest run) increase for a couple of weeks, then drop down slightly for one week before repeating the pattern. Over the eighteen weeks of the beginner's program, I built up to a longest run of twenty miles to cap off a forty-mile week. I avoided doing hills or speedwork so that I could focus entirely on increasing distance, again per Higdon's recommendation. I also followed his advice to take walking breaks during the race, strolling through each water station for around a hundred steps or so. I think the race went well. I finished in 4:27 at a steady ten minute per mile pace (with some moderate discomfort slowing me down over the last four miles or so) and felt good enough afterward to enjoy a day out in Portland. This last point may owe some kudos as well to the author - I remembered that he recommended staying on your feet for a short while after the race, so I did that instead of laying down on the grass.

I'm tempted to keep going, writing up a full recap of every interesting training detail I learned from these two books, but I actually don't think it would be of much general interest. If you are training and want to know these things, just reach out to me or get a hold of these books.

Say You're One of Them by Uwem Akpan

Akpan's short story collection, which sets all of its stories in Africa, is in some ways the opposite of the previously mentioned The Other Ones - I might have thought more of this one had it managed somehow to find moments where it escaped heavy reading territory. Of course, this could be a small challenge given the subject matter in each work, so perhaps my point is that the stories might have benefited from a slightly different start or end point. One thought that comes to mind here is that two of the stories were unusually long, suggesting the possibility that a novel rather than the short form might have worked better for telling select stories.

I didn't have a strong recollection of my reading experience, but I just reviewed summaries for each work and found that these brought me immediately back into the world of his stories. I think this speaks to Akpan's skill and the quality of the work. I have not seen many collections quite like this one so I can offer my approval to anyone who is seeking something a little different for their next read. 

Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Boy by Emmanuel Acho

Acho, who I vaguely recall from his helmet football career, wrote this book as a follow up to his video series "Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man". The book's slightly altered title reveals his intent to write for a younger target audience than he had for his videos (or book of the same name as the videos). I'm not much of an expert on the matter of a book being a good fit for children, but given how easily this read I think Acho accomplished his goal.

The lingering question for me is where this book fits in the larger context of educational material on systemic racism. This book had very little new information for me, a reader with some familiarity on the topic. I don't think that's a problem necessarily - the obvious point is that I'm an adult, so this book isn't for me. But speaking more generally, I feel some books work best as the equivalent of introductory material, helping those who still need answers to their basic questions about racism, and perhaps this book set (and met) that goal for itself. My understanding is that Acho sees his work as helping those on the fringes come around on these ideas, and I agree with his sense that this is a critical aspect of society's work in addressing systemic racism. But my challenge is that I'm not sure a white person who reads this book will understand its introductory aspect, which I worry will reinforce an issue I notice with increasing regularity - a white person, having just read a book (or even an essay or column), thinks about the matter for a few additional minutes before concluding that they now know everything they need to know about it. On a journey where this book represents the opening stages, I fear a certain type of reader will confuse it with the finish line.

the news or the editorials

There seems to be a point where even the most open-minded person begins refusing to consider new possibilities, mimicking a rising bureaucrat in a totalitarian regime. I was trying to understand this unexpected observation - by definition, after all, an open-minded person is willing to consider new possibilities - and over time I worked out the crucial role of fact in the matter of dissent. Essentially, I think whenever some idea achieves a level of certainty that it can be stated as fact, then it means there is little remaining possibility of dissent against the idea.

This recently worked its way to the top of my mind over a few months of routine conversations with my new manager. My initial read on him was that he possessed an open mind, or at least had some qualities consistent with an open-minded person. This was supported by our work together on a hiring round, where he navigated new information throughout the process of helping me reach a decision on a candidate. But in the ensuing months the evidence accumulated in the other direction. At one point I was ready to conclude that he just didn't handle dissent very well, which makes us a perfect match - dissent is my standard mode of operation. It's a good thing I didn't completely overhaul my style at that point since I eventually realized I was wrong regarding his ability to handle dissent. I began to notice a certain pattern in our interactions - I would raise some point challenging the status quo, then he would either extend or shut down the conversation. What I understood after many such interactions was that the difference in his two reactions was rooted in whether he saw the initial situation as based on fact or opinion. My suggestions on matters related to process improvement or headcount changes, for example, went nowhere - he saw those as areas where we had an established way of doing things. But my comments on situations such as interpersonal dynamics always gained a foothold because he saw interaction among colleagues as an area appropriate for a fluid interpretation.

When I look back on other areas of my life, I can see a similar pattern in the way others have reacted to my dissent. If I dissented against an idea regarded as opinion, then the recipient was much more open to further discussion than they were had I dissented against an idea regarded as fact. To put it another way, it seems that opinions are easier to challenge because opinions could be right, whereas challenging facts is tougher because facts are right. Knowing whether someone else sees a situation as built on fact or opinion therefore is a critical part of the dissent process. My approach these days is first determining whether the other party's information on a topic is coming from the equivalent of the news or the editorials, then altering my approach as necessary. If the latter, then life is easy - I just have to express myself. In the case of the former, I actually have to step back and challenge the conviction about the facts, which forces me to keep my opinion out of sight during the initial skirmish.

Of course, I know that what I see in others is often just a reflection of myself. This is probably why I'm so convinced about this point - I know from experience that when others challenge what I see as a fact,  then I'm unlikely to consider the new possibility. My tolerance for dissent seems to come down to how much ambiguity I feel can exist within the status quo, with the degree of ambiguity correlating to my openness for dissent. If I feel that something is a fact about the world, then hearing a new perspective comes off to me as a direct challenge and it leads to a negative reaction - either defensiveness or shutting down, by which I mean I refuse to take in the new information. But these things never happen when the point is made about an idea I regard as an opinion, where I have no difficulty considering a new angle or contemplating the possibility that I might benefit from revising my previous thinking.

The major consequence of this pattern is in the role played by the person who hears the initial dissent. This person plays a potentially crucial part in the lifecycle of a dissenting idea. Much like how an editor helps polish a piece of writing, the first person to hear the dissent has the power reshape the idea into a more palatable form. But if this first person sees the situation as one built on facts rather than opinions, then there is a strong possibility that the dissent will be rendered dead upon arrival, eliminating all possibility for iteration or feedback. The reality here is a discouraging one for us amateur dissenters - the likelihood our dissenting ideas being entertained is a function of how much the initial audience accepted the status quo prior to our dissent. Despite my quip earlier that I try my best to determine if the other is informed by "the news or the editorials", in practice there are certain situations where it will be impossible to make such a determination. The fact is that no matter how much someone claims to value good ideas based on strong thinking, it seems that no thinking is strong enough to sustain an intellectual challenge against someone who sees the situation as already settled by fact.

If the world is less interested in thinking than the thinkers would have us think, what is left to do? The solution that works for me bears some resemblance to an earlier point. I suggested earlier that the difference of fact and opinion is how fact is considered right whereas opinion could be right. There is a similar sort of difference that can help the dissenter's mentality - rather than worry about convincing others that you are right, focus instead on making them consider the possibility of having been wrong. I think this is the only way for a dissenter to productively initiate a conversation where the other party is firmly rooted in the comfort of the status quo. The silly analogy here is a hypothetical scenario where I determine the sky is purple. I suspect in my younger days I would have tried to convince others that the sky was purple, but now I see that the wiser approach is to get others to entertain the possibility that they might be wrong about the sky being blue. I think of this as like establishing the prerequisite condition - you can't convince anybody until they are open to being convinced.

leftovers - the point of seeking advice (experience, part 2)

I mentioned a few days ago how I considered a diminishing reliance on expertise as one signal that inexperience was giving way to experience. More specifically, I suggested that expertise reassures inexperienced people more so than it does experienced people. For me, the inexperienced person relies on expertise as a stamp of approval because they are otherwise unable to evaluate the quality of content. On the other hand, becoming experienced means being comfortable making such evaluations for yourself, which means you can identify good advice whether it comes from an expert or from some less qualified person in your life.

I could have paused at another point in the post to highlight a second feature of experience - consistency. I wanted to return to it today to reinforce this point. Another way to mark the shift from inexperienced to experienced is by evaluating the level of consistency. This is particularly relevant in areas where the inexperienced may sometimes produce the same quality of results as those with much more experience. If you focus on carefully chosen examples, it may seem that inexperienced people are just as capable as their experienced counterparts. However, the difference from my perspective is always revealed by the level of consistency. The failure to recognize that consistency matters is the most common mistake I notice when inexperienced people evaluate themselves. They fixate on the one or two isolated moments when they excelled, giving those examples greater weight than the many others where they failed to reach the same lofty heights, and as a result their self-perception falls badly out of synch with outsiders whose evaluations give greater weight to the full range of outcomes.