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Bond, Skywalker, and Why I Started a Blog

I have not made a habit of sharing online. When I started using social media as a kid, it was an era of unfiltered day-to-day. I could understand it more because there was no thought behind it. I would share what I was doing, freely jettisoning content into a void without any idea of what could come back. Eventually this gave way to the ultra-manicured platforms of today, and I shrunk from the light. I did not enjoy the pressure of social media suddenly becoming my résumé, diary, photo album, and meeting place.

So have I done better avoiding it as much as possible? I don't think so. It is a problem I have been grappling with. There used to be a massive distinction between regular media and the bottom-up world of social networking sites. As that distinction disintegrated, I threw in the towel instead of figuring out how to adapt. The fact is I do feel stifled in my work by not engaging at all. It's been hard to focus on long-term projects. I'm not seeing enough of even my own friends' work. I'm not discovering interesting creators. I'm not getting trickles of satisfaction from small wins. The longer I hole up, I can feel my hole getting smaller.

I watched a video from Venus Theory¹ and caught a glimpse of Austin Kleon's Show Your Work². I had never heard of it but got the eBook and read it in a sprint. This book convinced me my lack of engagement with my process and the outside is hindering my ability to finish. I enjoyed the take-some-and-leave-some attitude of the advice. As a huge consumer of the metawork genre it was refreshing to get quotations from the likes of Steve Albini and Robert Pollard. The tone reminded me of Michael Pollan's Food Rules. Both authors don't pretend to have invented the perfect regimen, but give simple, flexible actions distilled from numerous examples. I felt inspired enough to get thinking about ways I could pick up some of what Kleon puts down.

The fateful freeze frame, Venus Theory, Is Spotify Making Music Worse?

Write The Docs

"Whether you share it or not, documenting and recording your process as you go along has its own rewards: You'll start to see the world you're doing more clearly and feel like you're making progress. And when you're ready to share, you'll have a surplus of material to choose from."³

I am both aware of the power of reflection and remain painfully inadequate at carrying it out. It came on my radar after reading David Robson's The Intelligence Trap⁴. The book journeys through history to explain how experts become victims of their own knowledge. I'm amazed at the explanation for their failures being they knew too much. I'm horrified because having mastery is supposed to mean you're better. The idea all that effort would eventually narrow your understanding and effectiveness felt like changing the laws of physics overnight. Gracefully, the book provides a solution: reflection.

Robson explains how writing about what you're doing and how you're feeling gives “deeper introspection and the differentiation of your feelings” as well as helping “learn and remember what worked and what didn't.”⁵ I love the idea of acknowledging that creative works take effort and recording that. Sometimes I'm able to power through over weeks and forget what it took. Sometimes I can get a solid week in and end up running out of energy. Not only is the lack of a tangible output disheartening, but the lack of evidence for how and why I was doing it makes it difficult to pick back up in the future. Kleon's encouragement to record the process is engaging in creative reflection. By documenting my own process, I'm able to see more tangible output and stay motivated. I'm also leaving breadcrumbs for times that life gets in the way so I can get back on track. It's a reflective practice that will hone my process.

Coming to terms with this feels like the difference between James Bond and Luke Skywalker. Charlie Houpert makes a great point in his analysis of Bond and the masculine ideal that although Bond has a bevy of abilities, we never see him practice.⁶ This takes away an entire dimension of Bond's intrigue. While it is entirely possible this is taking place off-screen, there are cases it is clear we are supposed to believe he can just do anything. Not long after getting his tricked-out ride in Goldfinger, he effortlessly deploys the gadgets against enemies despite only getting a brief rundown from Q. To make it more befuddling, the switches are not even labelled.⁷ His world believes the polished output is the only thing worth valuing and complete competency at first contact is realistic. As consciously as I would deny idealizing the MI6 agent, unconsciously I was stuck in this world. I undervalued the process and my own work as not good enough. I wasn't going back and figuring out what worked and what didn't.

A protagonist we observe practice is Luke Skywalker. In Empire Strikes Back, Skywalker spends a grueling season in the jungles of Dagobah with Yoda training in the ways of the Force. We watch him whining, failing, and making the small victories that characterize practice in the real world.⁸ The most compelling aspect is in Return of the Jedi, when Skywalker returns to his mentor. He asks to complete his training, but Yoda refuses and says he is already ready. Skywalker doesn't believe it, but there's nothing he can do.[^9. This is the reality of creative work. It is difficult. We get stuck in the loop that there's always more we can do. The hardest part is acknowledging we're ready to let it go. While Skywalker is pressed by the events of the galaxy to go forth anyway, we don't always have the same scenario. Sometimes there are hard deadlines or economic concerns. Sometimes, however, there's nothing forcing us to complete the project.

So now I want to document my work to remind myself that, at least in this area, the world is more Lucas than Flemming. I never get an idea that instantly turns to gold. I don't come across a new tool and wield it masterfully at once. I get underwhelmed and stuck. I scour tutorials and struggle to make what's in my head appear. I don't think I'm ready when a very well could be. By being reflective, I am more in tune with myself and able to make the deliberate progress needed to finish.

Yoda tells Luke his training is complete, Return of the Jedi

Not a Solo Mission

"Make stuff you love and talk about stuff you love and you'll attract people who love that kind of stuff. It's that simple."⁹

Now that I've made a case for myself to be more cognizant of how I work, I have to explain why I started a blog. While this could have been done in a private space, Kleon's entire point is that it should be public. I haven't been very collaborative in recent years. A big reason is that I haven't been engaging with any communities on the internet. I'm hoping that by writing these posts, be they analyses or tutorials or journals, I can contribute to a greater scene. Robson also mentions teaching as a tool to improve understanding because “the act of explanation forces us to process the material more deeply.” When the blog is framed that others are going to see it, I'm being more deliberate in how I gather and organize information. Whether it's through direct cooperation or getting recommendations and feedback, being part of a community is a creative force-multiplier.

Coming back to our two heroes, James Bond is one of the least collaborative characters. In Goldfinger, every possible supporting role is almost instantly offed. Bond is left to fend for himself in increasingly elaborate ways. His American counterparts are woefully ignorant of his precarious situation and figure he's got it taken care of. He doesn't seem to mind, but it doesn't have to be that hard. This isn't a desirable way to get things done, even if we had the cunning and cool head of 007.

Luke Skywalker, however, is a part of a larger group and is put in situations he can't complete without aid. Despite his powers, in Return of the Jedi Skywalker is dependent upon his many co-conspirators to destroy the Death Star. As the operation starts in disaster, Skywalker has to watch as the Sith taunt him. When Sidious nearly kills him, it's up to Vader to save his life. This is the reality of creativity. There is nothing honorable about not asking for advice or pretending that everything we make has as little influence of others as possible. It's high time to be more Jedi than secret agent.

Bond as the lone wolf (or bird), Goldfinger

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