Two things happened this week that caused this post.
- Ed Schipul, a good friend of mine, attended the Tools of Change Conference 2010 (TOC 2010) and told me that a lot of folks were talking about Nick Cave’s Death of Bunny Munro. It is “the shit.”
- Don Linn posted his observations about TOC 2010 and said (among other good insights) two things: “[a]lthough there was lots of enhanced ebook talk, most of the conversation I heard was around adding a few audio or video enhancements to text-based titles” and “[w]e need to bring in some gamers and film-makers to open our minds to the possibilities here.”
And today, after considering both of these things I asked myself one question, which lead to more:
- What is the color of thought? If someone thinks something in my novel, can color represent the thought?
- What is the color of speech? If someone speaks in my novel, can color reflect their mood?
- Will you, the reader, hear the sound of my voice in an audio track?
- Will my book come with a soundtrack? If part of my story takes place in a bar, will you hear the din of customers, or the jukebox playing a song?
- What is the color of hatred? If my protagonist is angry, will the color of the text change to a dark crimson?
- Will the page change colors to set the mood? Can the background of my book ebb and flow to reflect its mood?
- If I write part of the book in a language other than English, will you be able to hover over it and read my (not the eReader or Google’s) translation?
- Will my book have sound effects?
- Will the book have a “feeling?”
Don Linn says that after four years, no one is talking about anything new. But with the iPad and other tablets, there is a great deal to talk about.
In the past, we have relied on the skill of the author to make us imagine and give visual context to stories. And I’m not advocating that this change, but merely recognizing that the author has a new set of tools to rely on to tell (direct) the story.
I believe that graphic designers and directors (D&Ds) will be our new publishers. We now have the ability to rethink both the book and writing with the help of design. And I’m not talking unique pieces like Danielewski’s Only Revolutions, which is amazing, or Plascencia’s People of Paper, which is equally impressive, or Savage’s Firmin, or the countless other re-imaginings of print. I see a new partnership forming with D&Ds and authors to create more robust, visually stimulating stories. Stories that eschew videos and stills—which are gimmicks—and embrace typographic design and visual narrative.
Tomorrow, the author is no longer a story teller. He or she is a director, not only making you read, but watch.
[Image (cc) by sabeth718]
I’ve been working my way through all of the responses to The Edge’s Question of the Year: How is the Internet changing the way you think? If you aren’t reading them, you should because the breadth of insight is truly amazing, and the observations will have you, at times, nodding your head and saying “yes, yes, that’s totally right,” and at others, shaking it in disbelief (as if unwilling to accept how we have been changed). Although I’m not through all 172 responses yet, I wanted to highlight an excerpt from the essay of Stephen Kosslyn, titled A Small Price to Pay:
Even in its current state, the Internet has extended my memory, perception, and judgment.
Regarding memory: Once I look up something on the Internet, I don’t need to retain all the details for future use — I know where to find that information again, and can quickly and easily do so. More generally, the Internet functions as if it is my memory. This function of the Internet is particularly striking when I’m writing; I no longer am comfortable writing if I’m not connected to the Internet. It’s become completely natural to check facts as I write, taking a minute or two to dip into PubMed, Wikipedia, or the like. When I write with a browser open in the background, it feels like the browser is an extension of myself.
Regarding perception: Sometimes I feel as if the Internet has granted me clairvoyance: I can see things at a distance. I’m particularly struck by the ease of using videos, allowing me to feel as though I’ve witnessed a particular event in the news. It’s a cliché, but the world really does feel smaller.
Regarding judgment: The Internet has made me smarter, in matters small and large. For example, when writing a textbook it’s become second nature to check a dozen definitions of a key term, which helps me to distill the essence of its meaning. But more than that, I now regularly compare my views with those of many other people. If I have a “new idea,” I now quickly look to see whether somebody else has already had it, or conceived of something similar — and I then compare and contrast what I think with what others have thought. This inevitably hones my own views. Moreover, I use the Internet for “sanity checks,” trying to gauge whether my emotional reactions to an event are reasonable, quickly comparing them to those of others.
These effects of the Internet have become even more striking since I’ve used a smart phone. I now regularly pull out my phone to check a fact, to watch a video, and to read blogs. Such activities fill the spaces that used to be dead time (such as waiting for somebody to arrive for a lunch meeting).
But that’s the upside. The downside is that when I used to have those dead periods, I often would let my thoughts drift, and sometimes would have an unexpected insight or idea. Those opportunities are now fewer and farther between. Like anything else, constant connectivity has posed various tradeoffs; nothing is without a price. But in this case, I think — on balance — it’s a small price to pay. I am a better thinker now than I was before I integrated the Internet into my mental and emotional processing.
As I read through these essayist’s responses, I am left to wonder how legal research and scholarship will unfold over the next decade.
[Image (cc) by Jeremy Brooks]
Well, my embargo has finally lifted, and I’m happy to be reporting on the newest extension of Thomson Reuters Legal’s (TRL) WestlawNext artificial intelligence technology, the WestlawNext “Flash.” Honestly, after having been able to spend a couple of weeks with this objet d’art, I have been blown away. And if you get a chance to experience it, you’ll understand why this is the Next New Device. (Sorry Apple iPad!)
Through a glass door you watched
the surf break in the distance
while someone told you confidentially
that what’s really important
is the way time passes in dreams
when you’re not dreaming.
Desperate Characters, Nicholas Christopher
[[Photo (cc) bortescristian]]
I am approaching the heart of this book with two theses, both simple. The first is that good writing consists of mastering the fundamentals (vocabulary, grammar, the elements of style) and then filling the third level of your toolbox with the right instruments. The second is that while it is impossible to make a competent writer out of a bad writer, and while it is equally impossible to make a great writer out of a good one, it is possible, with lots of hard work, dedication, and timely help, to make a good writer out of a merely competent one. (Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, 2000)
One of my many jobs is to teach our lawyers how to be better writers, which includes helping them learn to research. I shouldn’t have to teach them this, but they don’t seem to know how to do it. Or at least do it well enough to explain to others. Unfortunately, I fall more into the category of a “doer,” and so I will admit that I’m not that great of a teacher. Though I do try to be. Despite these limitations, there are just some things, in my opinion, that even the greatest teacher can’t overcome with Generation Y, one of them being unabashedness.
Now, I suspect you could berate or throw things at these kids enough to work it out of them, but everyone knows that we can’t do that anymore. No, we need to take seminars to learn how to motivate and work with them, or throw them balloon parties on Fridays so they know they are respected. And that would be fine, I suppose, if they actually could feel embarrassment about the quality of their work. At least then we’d know that they care.
Consider this anecdote. You’re pressed to get a CLE paper completed for an upcoming seminar. There are a number of new legislative developments you’ve identified that need to go into the paper. You call in one of your new associates to update the paper. A few days later the associate is back in your office, papers in hand, and asks you—
“What do you want me to do with this?”
Now, I suppose there are a lot of ways you could react to this question. Here are a few:
1. Give the associate an uncomfortable stare until she goes away.
2. Ask the associate what the fuck she thinks you want her to do with it, then throw something at her.
3. Tell the associate that if she can’t figure it out on her own, to turn in her resignation now.
4. Tell the associate to forget it and do the update yourself.
5. Apologize for not giving her clear instructions, schedule a meeting with her to go over all of the legislative changes, and help her write the update.
Based on what I’ve seen on the Tubes these days, the correct answer is #5. This will help get you on the list of the “Top Places to Work,” which is a bit of irony because I’m not sure much “work” gets done in those places, so maybe it should be “Top Places to Stay During the Day Where Other People Older Than You Work.”
I’m not opposed to young lawyers having questions. They should have questions, and you should be concerned if they aren’t asking. But in the anecdote above, the associate should have said—
I’ve read all the new statutes, pulled what legislative history was available and read over that. I also ran a blog search just to see if any other firms or lawyers have written about these changes, and I got zip. Despite these efforts, I’m still having difficulty determining exactly how we should incorporate some of these changes into the paper. Before I spend anymore time on this, I was hoping you could look over this with me real quick and point me in the right direction.
Or something like this. Anything that suggests you gave my request even the smallest bit of attention. Anything that would save you from embarrassment.
And this gets me to the title of this post. The individuals whom I’ve met or heard about over the last couple of years that have formed the basis of this opinion are smart people, and in some cases, exceptionally smart people. At least, that’s what I can tell from the importance of their jobs or the successes recounted on their resumes. These were people vetted through multiple interviews, and determined to be well-suited to their legal jobs. In short, they weren’t just the “man off the street.” And yet, their attitude suggested they were stupid. This is something I clearly cannot teach you how not to be. No lawyer can. To be un-stupid you have to feel embarrassment, or fear, like the fear of losing, the fear of making a mistake, or the fear of looking like a complete ass.
But maybe it’s like King says, it’s impossible to make a competent writer out of a bad one. Perhaps it’s equally impossible to make someone respect their job when they don’t respect how they are perceived. If that’s the case, the majority of the Gen Y’ers, Millennials, Slackoisie, or whatever you want to call them could be sunk, and our succession plans along with them.
{Questions for your Book Club}
1. How much training should one get before he or she can get saddled with the unabashedness label? It seems plenty of law firms have taken up new training programs for their associates, but I’m not sure how much of that is in response to increased client pressure not to pay for on-the-job training versus perceived deficiencies in the firms processes to begin with.
2. Where are the lines between coddling, teaching, and watchful neglect? The partners I learned under weren’t much into teaching, unless you count “don’t fuck it up” and “go to the library” as good training.
3. What does it say about you, Mr. Bigshot Lawyer, that you can’t find one good egg in the bunch? Is it fair to blame a generation, or can we just blame MTV’s The Real World?
I’m a couple of issues behind on Wired, so I just started reading 17.11, and the article on Demand Media is probably the first to actually blow me away. Totally. When I consider it along with the news that the Cray Jaguar reached 1.75 petaflops/sec. and that we’re but a mere few years away from 20 petaflops/sec. (well, if the National Nuclear Security Administration has its way), which supposedly approaches functional human-brain emulation, I can’t help but wonder what will be become of us. After all, when the human race is no longer unpredictable, what fun will that be? I think I’m going to stop using Google….
[Image (CC) Roberto Rizzato]
My friend Ed Schipul, has a terrific piece on “The Personal Brand Era.” You should read it. In fact, I encourage you to solicit him. Not because I count him among my friends, but because the guy is seriously smart and dedicated to his craft in a way that these “oh, hey, I’m a social media expert” folks could never be. In fact, I think Ed would even meet Scott Greenfield’s criteria for being a “social media guru,” which is a tall order (and despite the fact that he isn’t a lawyer, which in my book is a plus). And despite what anyone might say to you, if you are a lawyer and are not concerned with your “personal brand” in the age of the stream, you should be.
As I look over my posts, it turns out I might not be too concerned.
Ugh, an annoying scratch this morning. I enjoy reading Scott Greenfield, really. But today’s post on why people on the autistic spectrum shouldn’t be allowed to serve as jurors is just wrong.
But their [i.e., Autistics] right to a wonderful life must give way to a defendant’s right to be judged by a jury without any impediment to fair and sound verdict.
Granted, there are any number of other impediments that stand in the way of non-autistics serving on a jury, and I don’t mean to suggest that autistics alone should be precluded from jury duty. Rather, anyone who, for whatever reason, is unable to sit as a juror, with the ability to understand and process the proceedings, sit for whatever length of time is required without distraction, whether because the kids are coming home from school and there’s no one to let them in or because they lack the ability focus for prolonged periods, shouldn’t be jurors. People who take medication that makes them drowsy, impairs their cognitive ability, or alters their perceptions, shouldn’t be jurors. And, given the nature of autistic spectrum disorder, people who are autistic shouldn’t be jurors.
While people with autism should be able to do almost anything that anyone else can do, consistent with their functional abilities, serving as a juror just isn’t one of them. In the balance of rights, the defendant’s must prevail.
What I didn’t realize was that “impartial” means a jury of smart, attentive people whose ability to understand testimony and perceive witnesses’ demeanor is beyond reproach. So Autistics (no matter where you are on the spectrum), retards, or just generally slow people (you hear that Rednecks!), should not bother with showing up for jury duty. At least according to Mr. Greenfield. Oh, and you better throw in anybody else who views themselves more capable than they really are, which includes a number of lawyers I know.
As a father of an autistic child, I understand intimately the difficulties they face day in and day out. It’s a struggle, and they become very aware of their differences. Painfully aware. Which is why I applaud this post. If you’re AS, it’s these kinds of instructions that help you better cope with the world around you. Anyone who has a child on the spectrum or works with them understands this and understands that it works.
In the end, you should ask yourself whether you want someone who constantly assesses themselves in relation to the world around them, tries to do his or her best, and would like to serve on a jury, or someone who possesses strong “functional abilities” but doesn’t give a shit. Mr. Greenfield seems to prefer the latter.
*UPDATE
Mr. Greenfield has taken issue with my post. Apparently I am clouded by my love for my child that I am too emotionally involved to have a competent discussion on the issue of mental fitness and jury duty. A “sacred cow” as he calls it.
He also takes issue with my use of “retard,” intended in its most pejorative sense. For that, I will apologize to anyone directly who doesn’t understand why I used the term in the context of Mr. Greenfield’s post. There is talking, then there is yelling. Sometimes you must yell. As for losing credibility in the matter, that is entirely up to you to decide. As for insulting Mr. Greenfield with an implied attribution, I apologize for that as well.
As for the primary issue, Mr. Greenfield’s conclusion seems clear: jury service is not in an Autistic’s wheelhouse. It’s a remarkable statement in its breadth, and one that seems designed more to incite than to discuss. If the former was Mr. Greenfield’s intention, then he got what he wanted. If not, then I fail to see how the conclusion lends itself to debate. There is no discussion on diagnostic criteria or even anecdotal evidence (perhaps based on Mr. Greenfield’s decades of service to the mentally challenged) to suggest why individuals on the spectrum are incapable of serving, other than the comments of anonymous blogger. And despite his best efforts to keeping it focused on autistics, he ventures into the realm of other disabilities, whether mental, physical, or societal. My takeaway is that jury service isn’t in their wheelhouse either.
In the end, I disagreed with Mr. Greenfield’s assessment, and I wrote a post that was as caustic as the underlying sentiment in his post.
Here’s a scratch. You should take some time out of your life to read Billy Collins. I don’t care which collection you pick, just pick one. You’ll thank me. I’m sure Bill Murray will too. Here’s a brief excerpt from his recent collection titled Ballistics, The Poems of Others:
Just this morning, one approached me like a possum,
snout twitching, impossible to ignore.
Another looked out of the water at me like an otter.How can anyone dismiss them
when they dangle from the eaves of houses
and throw themselves in our paths?
I’m pretty sure if you read a poem a day, you’ll feel better.