Design for outcomes

Designing a device to save lives is not enough. People may not use it, or may not use it correctly. Or be unable to maintain it. Or …

I’ve seen analogous problems with statistical methods. People will not necessarily adopt a new statistical method just because it is better. And if they do use it, they may use it wrongly, just like medical devices.

(“Better” in the previous paragraph is a loaded term. Statistical methods are evaluated by many criteria: power, robustness, bias, etc. When someone says his new method is better, he means better by the criteria he cares most about. But even when there is agreement on statistical criteria, a superior statistical method may be rejected for non-statistical reasons.)

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When a good author writes a bad book

The other day I read a terribly bland book by an author I’ve previously enjoyed. (I’d rather not name the book or the author.) The book was remarkably unremarkable.

It reminded me that even the best strike out now and then. You have to evaluate someone by their best work, not their worst. If someone produces one masterpiece and a dozen clunkers, then they’ve produced a masterpiece. And that puts them ahead of people who crank out nothing but inoffensive mediocrities.

I also thought about how the author is likely to make a lot of money off his terrible book. That’s oddly encouraging. Even when you put out a clunker, not everyone will think it’s a clunker. It’s not necessary to do great work in order to make money, though doing great work is more satisfying.

The cult of average

Shawn Achor comments on “the cult of the average” in science.

So one of the very first things we teach people in economics and statistics and business and psychology is how, in a statistically valid way, do we eliminate the weirdos. How do we eliminate the outliers so we can find the line of best fit? Which is fantastic if I’m trying to find out how many Advil the average person should be taking — two. But if I’m interested in potential, if I’m interested in your potential, or for happiness or productivity or energy or creativity, what we’re doing is we’re creating the cult of the average with science. … If we study what is merely average, we will remain merely average.

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Digital desk, analog desk

Austin Kleon has an interesting idea for setting up a workspace: have a digital desk and an analog desk.

I have two desks in my office — one is “analog” and one is “digital.” The analog desk has nothing but markers, pens, pencils, paper, index cards, and newspaper. Nothing electronic is allowed on that desk. That’s where most of my work is born … The digital desk has my laptop, my monitor, my scanner, and my drawing tablet. This is where I edit and publish my work.

From Steal Like an Artist.

The context of this quote is a discussion of how we think differently depending on the tools we use. I wrote something along these lines a while back: Create offline, analyze online.

Comedic genealogy

Austin Kleon on imitation and originality:

Johnny Carson tried to be Jack Benny but ended up Johnny Carson. David Letterman tried to copy Johnny Carson but ended up David Letterman. And Conan O’Brien tried to be David Letterman but ended up Conan O’Brien. In O’Brien’s words, “It is our failure to become our perceived ideal that ultimately defines us and makes us unique.”

Stolen from Steal Like an Artist

More posts on originality

Opposite of YAGNI

There’s a motto in agile software development that says “You aren’t going to need it,” YAGNI. The idea is that when you’re tempted to write some code based on speculation of future use, don’t do it. (I go into this a little deeper here.)

Although “you aren’t going to need it” is a good principle for writing code, the analogous principle “you aren’t going to need to understand it” doesn’t seem to hold. When I try to avoid understanding things in detail, I end up needing to understand the details anyway and wished I’d done so sooner. This has been my experience in math research, software development, and project management.

Obviously you can’t understand everything about everything, and some things you clearly need to know well. In the fuzzy area in between, especially when I’ve said to myself “I hope I don’t have to dig into this,” I’ve often regretted postponing the dig.

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Limiting your options leads to better options

Limiting your options leads to better options.

… when you study the evidence, it’s clear that you’re not likely to encounter real interesting opportunities in your life until after you’re really good at something.

If you avoid focus because you want to keep your options open, you’re likely accomplishing the opposite. Getting good is a prerequisite to encountering options worth pursuing.

From Closing your interests opens more interesting opportunities.

Related post: Demonstrating persistence

Rule of the last inch

From The First Circle by Alexander Solzhenitsyn:

Now listen to the rule of the last inch. The realm of the last inch. The job is almost finished, the goal almost attained, everything possible seems to have been achieved, every difficulty overcome — and yet the quality is just not there. The work needs more finish, perhaps further research. In that moment of weariness and self-satisfaction, the temptation is greatest to give up, not to strive for the peak of quality. That’s the realm of the last inch — here, the work is very, very complex, but it’s also particularly valuable because it’s done with the most perfect means. The rule of the last inch is simply this — not to leave it undone. And not to put it off — because otherwise your mind loses touch with that realm. And not to mind how much time you spend on it, because the aim is not to finish the job quickly, but to reach perfection.

Via Still I Am One

It can be hard to know when something deserves the kind of polish Solzhenitsyn talks about. Sometimes you’re in the realm of rapidly diminishing return and it’s time to move on. Other times, the finishing touches are everything.

Related post: Scripting and the last mile problem

Customizing conventional wisdom

From Solitude and Leadership by William Deresiewicz:

I find for myself that my first thought is never my best thought. My first thought is always someone else’s; it’s always what I’ve already heard about the subject, always the conventional wisdom. It’s only by concentrating, sticking to the question, being patient, letting all the parts of my mind come into play, that I arrive at an original idea. By giving my brain a chance to make associations, draw connections, take me by surprise. And often even that idea doesn’t turn out to be very good. I need time to think about it, too, to make mistakes and recognize them, to make false starts and correct them, to outlast my impulses, to defeat my desire to declare the job done and move on to the next thing.

Conventional wisdom summarizes the experience of many people. As a result, it’s often a good starting point. But like a blurred photo, it has gone through a sort of averaging process, loosing resolution along the way. It takes hard work to decide how, or even whether, conventional wisdom applies to your particular circumstances.

Bureaucracies are infuriating because they cannot deliberate on particulars the way Deresiewicz recommends. In order to scale up, they develop procedures that work well under common scenarios.

The context of Deresiewicz’s advice is a speech he gave at West Point. His audience will spend their careers in one of the largest and most bureaucratic organizations in the world. Deresiewicz is aware of this irony and gives advice for how to be a deep thinker while working within a bureaucracy.

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How to know it all

The way to know it all is to change the definition of “all.” Schools do this, for example, by defining “all” to mean everything on a test. Then it’s possible for someone to know it all. Schools create the illusion that the world is finite. You may not know everything, but someone does.

The desire to know it all is pernicious. The only way to accomplish it is to shrink your world. That may be OK for a while to focus your attention. The danger is that you can succeed and forget that you started by drawing arbitrary boundaries.

When I was very young, I thought that if I read every volume of the World Book Encyclopedia, I’d know everything. Of course I wouldn’t know everything, only what the editors of the encyclopedia chose to include.

If you want to learn English by first learning all the vocabulary, you’ll never speak English. Even if you learn every word in a particular dictionary, you still haven’t learned every word in the language, or even every word you may run into.

Computer languages are orders of magnitude simpler than human languages, but they’re still too complex to learn exhaustively. If you want to learn every nuance of C++ before writing programs, you’ll never write a program. And if you think this is because C++ is a large language, it’s hardly possible to understand a smaller language like C exhaustively either if you take into account all the subtleties of how features are actually implemented on various platforms.

A common problem in math is how to select a finite sample from an infinite space. Maybe you have a function defined at an infinite number of points and you want to approximate it by sampling it at a carefully chosen finite set of points. This is a good metaphor for life.

Even when things are finite, it’s often very practical to think of them as being infinite. (See Infinite is easier than big.) Many aspects of life are effectively infinite.

Related post: Evaluate people at their best or at their worst?