I am thinking about nonconformity and originality this morning because I just ordered a book by Wharton professor Adam Grant called, Originals: How Non-Conformists Move the World. I ordered it along with another book that was recommended by a regular reader of this blog. (Thanks Daniel.)
I find this topic fascinating because there’s clearly a deep appreciation for originality and creativity in our society and yet I think we do a lot to encourage the opposite: conformity. Of course, part of this is that it’s inherently easier to conform. Think about how much pressure we have in our lives to please others and generally just “fit in.”
This is something that I think about and try to fight in my own life, particularly as I get older. As a teenager, I was a skateboarder with bleach blonde hair who rode around in a t-shirt that said “skateboarding is not a crime.” That’s clearly not me anymore (I prefer my natural hair color), but I continue to believe that a bit of rebelliousness can be valuable.
For instance, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that San Francisco – the epicenter of counterculture in the 1960s – ended up becoming such a hotbed of entrepreneurship.
To drive that point home even further, here’s a quote from a recent interview with Adam Grant:
“It often starts with a slight recalibration in perspective followed by a small, but defiant act. It’s the originals who keep pulling on that thread — they instinctively know that that’s the difference between inspiration and innovation.”
So there’s also a lesson here for cities. Most cities around the world believe in the value of a thriving startup ecosystem. They want entrepreneurs to start companies and create jobs. But we shouldn’t forget that starting a company is also “an expression of nonconformity.” It is someone deciding to carve out their own path in life.
If that’s what we’re trying to encourage – and most places are – I believe we should also think about what we’re doing and not doing to encourage the right kind of nonconformity in our cities.
If any of you are in the business of creating – whether that’s a mobile app or a building – I’m sure you understand that the product or thing you’re working on will naturally evolve and change over time – probably in unexpected ways.
In fact, I usually take this as a positive sign. When I have my head in a project and I’m focused on solving problems, ideas will naturally start to flow. I start thinking of things that I never would have thought about at the outset. That’s why I generally think of creativity as a process, rather than as some divine gift.
But the challenge with all of this is that many of our existing business processes are not set up to deal with this kind of ambiguity. If anything we try and punish these sorts of deviations. If it wasn’t pre-meditated at the beginning of the project, we call it “scope creep” and charge extra for them as “change orders.” These two words equal death in construction.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I completely understand the realities of running a business and the importance of managing scope and resources. It’s a balancing act. Without some structure, nothing would get done.
But the more that iterative lean methodologies and “design thinking” can be embedded into our processes, the more value creation I believe we will see.
My thinking is as follows: At least part of the reason that innovation comes from startups and new market entrants is that the founders aren’t usually sitting around talking about defined scope and laying out elaborate business plans. They’re focused on creatively solving problems and doing whatever it takes to get there.
It’s also one of the reasons that conventional wisdom dictates that tech startups shouldn’t outsource development. It’s too core a competency and you can’t “move fast and break things” if you don’t have that in-house and you’re constantly worried about eye-popping invoices hitting your desk.
I have always seen lots of parallels between startups and architecture. In both of these worlds, the idea you start with is rarely what you end up with (at least that’s the case in architecture school). You research, learn, and iterate along the way and that leads you in new and unexpected ways.
And in my view, that’s often what the path to innovation looks like. Because if you define the entire path at the outset, how can you expect to go anywhere new? And if you’re not going anywhere new, how can you expect to outperform the market?
I am thinking about nonconformity and originality this morning because I just ordered a book by Wharton professor Adam Grant called, Originals: How Non-Conformists Move the World. I ordered it along with another book that was recommended by a regular reader of this blog. (Thanks Daniel.)
I find this topic fascinating because there’s clearly a deep appreciation for originality and creativity in our society and yet I think we do a lot to encourage the opposite: conformity. Of course, part of this is that it’s inherently easier to conform. Think about how much pressure we have in our lives to please others and generally just “fit in.”
This is something that I think about and try to fight in my own life, particularly as I get older. As a teenager, I was a skateboarder with bleach blonde hair who rode around in a t-shirt that said “skateboarding is not a crime.” That’s clearly not me anymore (I prefer my natural hair color), but I continue to believe that a bit of rebelliousness can be valuable.
For instance, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that San Francisco – the epicenter of counterculture in the 1960s – ended up becoming such a hotbed of entrepreneurship.
To drive that point home even further, here’s a quote from a recent interview with Adam Grant:
“It often starts with a slight recalibration in perspective followed by a small, but defiant act. It’s the originals who keep pulling on that thread — they instinctively know that that’s the difference between inspiration and innovation.”
So there’s also a lesson here for cities. Most cities around the world believe in the value of a thriving startup ecosystem. They want entrepreneurs to start companies and create jobs. But we shouldn’t forget that starting a company is also “an expression of nonconformity.” It is someone deciding to carve out their own path in life.
If that’s what we’re trying to encourage – and most places are – I believe we should also think about what we’re doing and not doing to encourage the right kind of nonconformity in our cities.
If any of you are in the business of creating – whether that’s a mobile app or a building – I’m sure you understand that the product or thing you’re working on will naturally evolve and change over time – probably in unexpected ways.
In fact, I usually take this as a positive sign. When I have my head in a project and I’m focused on solving problems, ideas will naturally start to flow. I start thinking of things that I never would have thought about at the outset. That’s why I generally think of creativity as a process, rather than as some divine gift.
But the challenge with all of this is that many of our existing business processes are not set up to deal with this kind of ambiguity. If anything we try and punish these sorts of deviations. If it wasn’t pre-meditated at the beginning of the project, we call it “scope creep” and charge extra for them as “change orders.” These two words equal death in construction.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I completely understand the realities of running a business and the importance of managing scope and resources. It’s a balancing act. Without some structure, nothing would get done.
But the more that iterative lean methodologies and “design thinking” can be embedded into our processes, the more value creation I believe we will see.
My thinking is as follows: At least part of the reason that innovation comes from startups and new market entrants is that the founders aren’t usually sitting around talking about defined scope and laying out elaborate business plans. They’re focused on creatively solving problems and doing whatever it takes to get there.
It’s also one of the reasons that conventional wisdom dictates that tech startups shouldn’t outsource development. It’s too core a competency and you can’t “move fast and break things” if you don’t have that in-house and you’re constantly worried about eye-popping invoices hitting your desk.
I have always seen lots of parallels between startups and architecture. In both of these worlds, the idea you start with is rarely what you end up with (at least that’s the case in architecture school). You research, learn, and iterate along the way and that leads you in new and unexpected ways.
And in my view, that’s often what the path to innovation looks like. Because if you define the entire path at the outset, how can you expect to go anywhere new? And if you’re not going anywhere new, how can you expect to outperform the market?
If you’re somebody who has a lot of ideas, it can be pretty easy to get overwhelmed and/or distracted by all of the possibilities. It’s also worse when you’re an optimist and you believe it can all be done. I am definitely guilty of this. It is one of my weaknesses.
We all have a finite amount of time to work with and so saying no to the stuff that isn’t core is critical. I believe I am getting better at this, but every now and then I find myself having to do some pruning. And once I do that, boy does it feel great.
Seth Godin has a fantastic blog post on this topic that I love called, No is essential. Here it is in its entirety (it’s a short post):
“If you believe that you must keep your promises, overdeliver and treat every commitment as though it’s an opportunity for a transformation, the only way you can do this is to turn down most opportunities.
No I can’t meet with you, no I can’t sell it to you at this price, no I can’t do this job justice, no I can’t come to your party, no I can’t help you. I’m sorry, but no, I can’t. Not if I want to do the very things that people value my work for.
No is the foundation that we can build our yes on.”
To drive the point home even further, let’s shift gears and talk about wine. (For all of you fellow wine drinkers.)
In viticulture, overall yield – usually measured in hectoliters per hectare of vineyard – is often seen as an important indicator of quality. The idea being that low yields produce better wines because the flavors get concentrated over fewer grapes.
Part of what drives this is the leaf to fruit ratio. Too much fruit and not enough leaves, means the grapes won’t ripen properly.
The parallel to this conversation is that leaves are much like time. There’s only so much of it. And while many of us are constantly trying to maximum yield – I know I am – there are limits to the kind and quality of grapes we can produce when we do that.
I know this in principle. And more and more, I know this in practice. I am learning to say no.
Image from Flickr
If you’re somebody who has a lot of ideas, it can be pretty easy to get overwhelmed and/or distracted by all of the possibilities. It’s also worse when you’re an optimist and you believe it can all be done. I am definitely guilty of this. It is one of my weaknesses.
We all have a finite amount of time to work with and so saying no to the stuff that isn’t core is critical. I believe I am getting better at this, but every now and then I find myself having to do some pruning. And once I do that, boy does it feel great.
Seth Godin has a fantastic blog post on this topic that I love called, No is essential. Here it is in its entirety (it’s a short post):
“If you believe that you must keep your promises, overdeliver and treat every commitment as though it’s an opportunity for a transformation, the only way you can do this is to turn down most opportunities.
No I can’t meet with you, no I can’t sell it to you at this price, no I can’t do this job justice, no I can’t come to your party, no I can’t help you. I’m sorry, but no, I can’t. Not if I want to do the very things that people value my work for.
No is the foundation that we can build our yes on.”
To drive the point home even further, let’s shift gears and talk about wine. (For all of you fellow wine drinkers.)
In viticulture, overall yield – usually measured in hectoliters per hectare of vineyard – is often seen as an important indicator of quality. The idea being that low yields produce better wines because the flavors get concentrated over fewer grapes.
Part of what drives this is the leaf to fruit ratio. Too much fruit and not enough leaves, means the grapes won’t ripen properly.
The parallel to this conversation is that leaves are much like time. There’s only so much of it. And while many of us are constantly trying to maximum yield – I know I am – there are limits to the kind and quality of grapes we can produce when we do that.
I know this in principle. And more and more, I know this in practice. I am learning to say no.
Image from Flickr
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