On the campus where I spent most of my college career, the English department was housed in one of the oldest buildings there. It featured stone-surfaced stairs with grooves worn into them from thousands of students trudging up them with the grit of salt and sand of a Minnesota winter on their shoes.

Because I majored in English, I practically lived in Riverview and grew to love it in its neglected charm. I still associate that musty smell and the clunking of radiators with 19th century British literature and it’s drafty windows distorting the sun with forcing the angst-ridden poetry that only a 19 year old can write into sonnets and pantoums.

And, in nearly every one of those memories is one of my favorite professors and my advisor: Steve Klepetar. Wildy gesturing, his curly dark hair flopping about onto his dark-rimmed glasses which slid down his nose as he explained for the 1000th time how the English ballad’s meter combines iambic tetrameter together with iambic trimeter.

He’d climb on the desk in the front of the room and sit, cross-legged as he’d expound on the deep significance of early 20th century poetry, clearly as excited to be talking about it as he had been the previous semester and the semesters before that.

Dr. Klepetar is the kind of professor I can only hope for other college students to have somewhere along their journey. I was blessed to benefit by spending 3 years taking classes from him regularly.

While lots of things from those classes have stuck with me, one thing has come up over and over on the job and elsewhere in my life.

See, Dr. Klepetar had a novel way of approaching written assignments. While the assignment itself was typed, students could add the kinds of notes that he would be adding later himself to the margins before handing it in.

One of the things that was to go in those margins, if you felt it was appropriate, was a series of capital letters: JJDIATT. It stood for “James Joyce Did It All The Time”.

If the last time you saw an English class was in the rear view mirror after your freshman year as you ran away, that may make absolutely no sense.

James Joyce is an Irish author who’s most famous book, Ulysses, is a shining example of someone breaking the rules. Grammar, punctuation, and literary convention were all open to some breakage when Joyce put pen to paper.

The most obvious example is that Joyce has run-on sentences that go on for PAGES (including the ending, which is a sentence that goes on for 40 pages). Yet, despite (and some would say because of) that rule-breaking, it’s considered one of the greatest literary works of the 20th century.

Thus, Dr. Klepetar advised us that we were free to break the rules. Start a sentence with “And” or “But”. Slap Grammar across the face. Make up our own spelling of a word. But, you had to put JJDIATT in the margin to indicate that you did it on purpose.

If you started a sentence with “But” or “And” (one of my favorite things to do, by the way) out of ignorance, you weren’t some rebel out to make an artistic statement. Rebellion isn’t something you do accidentally. You need to actually know what rule you’re breaking and have some goal in mind for it to “count”.

To do that, you need to actually have an understanding of the rules in the first place.

When students were bristling at the rigid structure of the sonnet, and would ask to be allowed to write free verse instead, he’d point out that your free verse gets considerably better when you have mastered writing within the confines of the rules. The confinement of 140 characters on Twitter has spurred some of the biggest growth in my ability to write since those English classes in college.

Beginners always seem to want to leap right past the rules without learning them. Yet the Dreyfus Model makes it clear that rigid following of rules is exactly what you need to do when you are new to something. Only when you move into competency and into proficiency does the rule breaking become a viable strategy.

Many people who haven’t studied art look at one of the cubist paintings of Picasso and comment something along the lines of how it’s too bad he couldn’t paint things the way they actually look. However, if you go and look at Picasso’s earliest work, it’s clear that he actually learned the techniques in drawing and painting representationally. He then spent the rest of his life breaking those rules in an effort to discover the essence of how images work and are recognized.

If JJDIATT ended there, it would be a worthwhile technique. However, Dr. Klepetar took it one step further and here’s where I think his technique was genius. Putting JJDIATT in the margin wasn’t a “get out of jail free” card you could use to write a sloppy paper. If you wrote a bad paper, had your friend proofread it and just slapped JJDIATT next to all of the mistakes, that wouldn’t fly.

That’s because JJDIATT was actually an invitation to Dr. Klepetar to have a conversation. It was waving the cape at him to examine what you were trying to accomplish in that instance of breaking the rules. And, he wasn’t one to hold back when he thought that the result didn’t accomplish the goals that launched the rebellion.

In this whole process, he taught me the importance of understanding the rules, recognizing when they are in the way of my vision, breaking them and evaluating whether the result was actually better than if I’d followed the rules in the first place.

For that, Dr. Klepetar, I am deeply grateful.

PS: It looks like I’m not the only one of his students who has a high opinion of Dr. Klepetar. His ratings on one of those "rate your professor” sites is nearly 100% positive, despite his “easiness” indicating he isn’t handing out A’s like candy.

A week ago Tuesday at noon, an over-worked, stressed out software developer (OK it was me) climbed into his car, and embarked on a solo journey wandering across a wide swath of America, to a new media conference and back the following Monday at 9:00am.

That journey covered 3200 miles through 15 of these United States over the course of those 7 days. I saw a wide variety of terrain, a fairly complete survey of changing regional cuisine, a sampling of how the economy is doing in 1/3 of the country, had interesting conversations, met people I’d previously only met online (great to see all of those people in person), drove along winding country roads, left outrageous tips at restaurants across the country, bought hot dogs for a shared meal with a homeless guy in St. Louis and ate fried creamed corn just outside the World’s Largest Truckstop.

.

I listened to a lot of podcasts, a few audiobooks, lots of music and some contemplative silence. I spent time reading, reflecting, talking through ideas, and generally getting away from the stress that the last 6 months has piled on to me.

I returned refreshed (which will hopefully last more than a few days), with a renewed desire to take on the challenges in front of me.

One of the things I’ve learned about myself over the past few years is my natural tendency toward imbalance and how that can end up doing a lot of harm to the attributes of my skills portfolio and personality that people enjoy and sometimes pay for.

I’m good at what I do because I combine various disciplines and perspectives and apply them to situations in unique ways. That comes from being deeply interested in the world around me and curious about nearly every topic I can think of. However, when I let myself, I skew toward a single endeavor, like the big project I’m working on now.

In doing so, I actually injure my ability to do that project to the best of my ability. That became clear again as I was traveling. As I thought about working on other projects, podcasts, and just let my mind wander on whatever topic was in front of me, I found myself coming up with good ideas for the billable project along the way.

That goes right along with everything I’ve read in book after book about how the mind works for lateral thinking and strategic intuition. The conference itself challenged me to do something about it and carve out the necessary variety I need to be at my best.

So, I’m setting out on a deliberate process to make sure that I engage in several areas on a regular basis to keep that equilibrium. I’ll keep charging ahead on my billable project and probably keep above 40 hours a week. But, I’ll also be making sure I put in time working on my writing, working on my non-billable software projects, some art, music, reading books, doing something with the 3 hours of video I captured on the trip and getting back into podcasting.

On that last item, I’ve got 2 main ideas that I’m moving forward on, one more solid than the other. That “more solid” idea is a podcast that embraces the multi-disciplinary lifestyle, called the Polymath Podcast. I’m looking for a couple of co-hosts to get this thing off the ground, so if you’re interested, let me know.

I know that for many of those endeavors I won’t be getting very far in a given week.  However, a slow and steady investment is what I’m aiming for: one that’s sustainable. I want to leverage the benefits I’ve seen come from that cross-cutting approach and feel challenged to kick it up a notch.

We’ll see where things go from here. Regardless of the destination, the journey is its own reward.

Yesterday, I overheard a conversation about the recent remake of The Day the Earth Stood Still. One of the participants was commenting on Keanu Reeves' performance in the movie. Given my attendance of several Keanufest film festivals 10 or so years ago (think more take-a-drink-for-every-WHOA instead of taking-Keanu-seriously-as-an-actor), I chuckled to myself as I listened to what turned out to be a rather lengthy rant on his wooden acting style and stilted delivery of lines.

Then his conversational partner responded. She launched into her own rant about how it was unfair to pick on him and how celebrities are dragged through the mud because of their drinking/personal problems/relationships/etc. As I walked out of earshot, I was struck by how many people, like her, seem to completely miss the difference between the type of criticism that is warranted and justified and the kind that isn't.

The original evisceration was a criticism of Keanu's performance in a specific movie (or at least the trailers of it) and his body of work. Given that Keanu has chosen the profession of film actor, and viewers of the films that he has starred in are customers of that work, that is the very kind of criticism that is 100% legitimate.

Granted, the credibility of a given critic of that work should be taken into consideration. A well-respected critic or actor, or a director of movies probably has more insight into the quality of the work than that dude at the end of the bar with pretzel salt stuck on his lip, but it's at least directly related to the actual work.

If you start talking about how the movie will likely suck because you didn't like Dogstar, that band he played bass for in the 90's or because you heard some unsubstantiated rumor about how he once stared down a llama in the mountains of Peru for 16 hours straight and that seriously creeps you out, it's got nothing to do with the work itself.

Now, in a celebrity context, some of the non-work criticism has some legitimacy due to the high salaries often being paid so that people will fill the role of "movie star" as much or more than "film actor".

However, I see this same thing in the workplace on a daily basis. I believe that, to as large a degree as can be achieved, the workplace should be a meritocracy. The best idea/solution/approach should win and should compete on its actual merits.

Sadly, most workplaces are filled with ad hominem attacks on ideas and solutions that people don't agree with and ipse-dixitism-based support for those they do agree with.

"This approach to solving the problem won't work because Bill is an idiot."
"No, I didn't actually read the design document, but I'm sure it's great because Susan is really bright."

Both sides of this coin bother me. That's because "idiots" often have brilliant ideas and "geniuses" can come up with some of the stupidest solutions you'll ever see. When you focus on the person instead of on the work itself, you can often completely miss that reality.

photo credit: kevindooley

A few weeks ago, I was reading this article on 30 Ways to Create an Incredible Client Experience and I thought about something I started doing a while back. It actually seems counter-intuitive at first, but turns out to actually improve the experience on projects where you're charging less than your full rate.

From time to time, I do a project or a portion of a project for free. Some are for friends or family, some for charity and sometimes I have some hours that I don't bill for because I screwed up.

When I first started out, I would do that free or discounted work and it would never be mentioned again. Then on more than one of these projects, things were just sort of sour.

On one, someone was upset that the project was late (I was too), and I'd actually put in a ton of unpaid work over a couple of months to get it done and we still didn't make it in time. The client made a comment that hit me hard. He was looking at my bill, which only included the first 40 hours of each of those weeks and said, "Maybe if you'd been willing to put in more than just the minimum effort, we'd have launched on time."

Right there and then, I realized how important perception and visibility are to a project. Later on, as I read more about marketing, human psychology, etc. I learned a bunch of things about the way people view "free". Further experience taught me that if the value wasn't visible, people will invent a number in their head. And, if the number they come up with on their own is closer to what you pay the neighbor kid to mow the lawn than to what they pay their mechanic, you're in trouble as a tech professional.

A few years ago, I was having a conversation with another consultant and was complaining about how a pro bono client I was helping seemed decidedly ungrateful. He told me that he billed even the free stuff and just discounted it. He went on to tell me to ask this particular client how much they thought they were getting for free.

I followed up on that suggestion and discovered that the non-profit in question thought that the web work I was doing would cost about $300 on the open market. Problem was that I'd given them the same amount of time that my paying clients pay well over $5000 for. Clearly there was a mismatch.

So, what I do now is to shine a light on that free and discounted time. If I'm doing some geeky work for someone that goes beyond a quick phone call or a chat over a meal, I write up the time spent at my normal market rate. I then apply the appropriate discount. That means that if the whole project is free, there's a completely normal project invoice, with a 100% discount applied.

That's something to think about for those who are starting out doing web or design or other work where the common advice to break in is to do a project for cheap or free to build your portfolio. That advice is frequently criticized because it can lead to either that first client or everyone they refer to you expecting the same cheap deal. If, however, you bill that portfolio building project and just discount it, the point that it was a one-time deal is much clearer. You can even name your discount to nail the point home.

I also do this for the kinds of things where I either screw up (I'm the first to admit that it happens) or need to a bunch of research and don't feel ethically right billing for it. I did it a couple of months ago, where the actual bill for the month was something like 22 or 24 hours and I included another 8 that I discounted 100% because I spent an entire day rebuilding the staging server after I messed it up by trying to take a shortcut.

Given that we had had conversations about the delay, putting it on the bill made it clear that I had really made an effort to rectify things. It also showed that I had skin in the game for the problem.

It's really all of those various reasons that have reinforced this technique. All kinds of assumptions and underlying miscommunication gets cleared up when this stuff shows up on a bill. I'm really still quite amazed at how well it diffuses bad blood on both sides.

If you've got frustrations with or have held back from doing discounted work because you aren't sure how to handle it, this approach is worth thinking about. It works great for me.

At some point, you've probably found yourself hating your job, dreaming about your hobby and how great it would be if THAT was your job. If you voiced that desire to someone else, there's a pretty good chance that you heard one of the favorite lines of motivational speakers and self-help authors the world over: "Just do what you love".

The sentence is usually accompanied by anecdotes of riches-to-rags-to-riches stories of high power lawyers who quit their jobs to make a new form of jewelry that turns out to be the next big thing and ends up happy and even richer than before.

Unfortunately, that's the kind of advice that leads people to believe that they can turn their hobby directly into a business. Nevermind that it's extremely difficult to make a living directly doing most unmodified hobbies. Writing poetry, keeping fish, painting landscapes, taking still life photos, playing jazz piano, etc., etc., etc. are all things that people do, indeed, make a living at. However, there are hundreds of people who would LIKE to do those jobs for every one that actually does.

I've seen more than one person get all charged up by this and start drawing up plans to jump right into directly turning their hobby into a business or a career. That's because they didn't have all of the pieces necessary to make money doing something you love: Skills/Talent, Passion and Market.

Passion
This is the part most people start with: Stuff I Enjoy. If you're going to spend a large portion of your days and weeks in an activity, you have to actually enjoy it. Seems obvious, I know. However, it's something that more than a few miserable people ignore when picking a career or field. They see people making a bunch of money and jump in.

If there's an area of life that you already have a passion for, you're far more likely to have put in enough effort to have a pretty good foundation.

If I were starting from scratch and looking for a career, I might look, things that meet this criteria might be: writing software, watching movies, drawing, writing fiction, trivia, playing guitar, singing, photography, and reading.

Skills/Talent
In order to make decent money at anything, it needs to be in the set: Stuff I'm Good At. While there are some exceptions, people who make a living at something despite being below average at it, if you start out at least a little bit above average in your talent and skill, you won't be fighting a headwind.

If I look at my list of Stuff I Enjoy, it's clear that there's not a 100% overlap with Stuff I'm Good At. I'm a pretty good software developer and a decent photographer. However, at playing the guitar, singing, and trivia, I'm actually average at best and am not a very good movie critic at all.

Market
This dimension is probably the one that's least included in these discussions. In order to make any money at anything, it needs to be Stuff People Pay For. The market isn't exactly clamoring for another Great American Novel about the coming of age of an awkward teenager or a 32 year old guy who plays video games, or someone who reads all day. Neither is the market falling all over itself to buy my little experimental Flickr API client in C#.

The Sweet Spot
Now, there are plenty of things that overlap in 2 of the 3 circles. I was a decent technical writer and the market was there for it, but it turns out that I don't actually enjoy it. I enjoy photography and am pretty good at it, however except for wedding and high school senior portraits, there isn't a huge market and the market that DOES exist is much smaller than the supply of people who want to do it.

Whenever you don't have all 3, you're looking at a situation where you'll be fighting uphill the whole time. However, when you find something that lands in The Sweet Spot, you've got something that you can really run with.

In my case, developing custom business software is The Sweet Spot. I enjoy it, I'm good at it and there's a market. Now, of the software that I aim to write, business apps aren't what I'd write if money were no object. That stuff I write in my spare time. Because I know there's not much market demand, I don't try to push it.

The added benefit to specifically seeking out the sweet spot is that it's highly unlikely that the thing you enjoy the MOST is what will end up in that little patch. As such, your day job ends up being enjoyable, but the thing you really enjoy is saved from the destruction of your intrinsic motivation.

In short, if you're dreaming of a new career, and it doesn't land in The Sweet Spot, you might want to re-think your dream.