Solicited Advice

Advice is kind of weird, right? When I think of most of the times I’ve asked for it, it’s been when there’s something wrong, or if I have a problem I can’t solve.

It hadn’t occurred to me to actively ask for advice when there’s nothing up, no issue or angle, until earlier this year. As part of a project, I had to ask my collaborators four questions from a script, with one of them being: “What advice do you have for me?”

That’s it. Simple. No other context or prompts. A wide open ask for advice.

I actually was telling Drew, Lydia and Jackie about this exchange earlier this evening. Here’s what they had to say:
“Weird!”
“That’s so robotic!”
“It sounds unnatural!”

…and so on.

I agree. And it did feel strange to ask, but guess what? I got some of my favorite advice ever (thanks, Jeremy and Jenny!)

Doodle more.

This advice came at a time when I was in the thick of my creative withdrawal. It was advice I didn’t even know how much I needed. I’ve been picking up the pen more than ever because of it. Behold, two recent, random doodles:

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Do you ever ask for advice just because?

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “2¢. Whether you asked for it – or not – what good advice did you get this year?”

The Unicorn of Meaning

Once upon a time in a meeting dubbed “concept-y party,” The Unicorn of Meaning descended upon SmallBox. No, really. True story. See what I mean:

A photo posted by Sara McGuyer (@sara_mc) on

This project actually hasn’t wrapped yet so I won’t go into the full details, but these sticky notes are for a video we’re working on. Those stickies shown above represent just a few of the ideas our team (Mayowa, Sarah, Lydia, Elizabeth, Teresa and myself) brainstormed during our session. You may be able to tell from looking at the stickies that this meeting was just plain fun. Here’s why:

  1. We covered our eyes and blindly aimed nerf guns toward posters of different brainstorming techniques. Whichever ones we hit with our nerf bullets would be the methods we used for concepting.
  2. We may have rigged the deal to make sure we ended up using the “Make a jingle about your challenge” technique.
  3. We sang. We danced. Allegedly, there was a twerking incident that nearly resulted in a neck injury.
  4. One by one, our other co-workers were drawn to our boisterous laughter. We told them they could stay if they wanted to see what the fuss was all about, but that they had to sing too.
  5. The Unicorn of Meaning was almighty and magical. Its mere presence made this become a thing:

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(This was actually at the Think Kit launch party. The Unicorn approves of Think Kit!)

p.s. If your meetings are boring, feel free to steal some of these ideas.

p.p.s. I NEVER thought I’d write the word twerk in my blog.

p.p.p.s. NEVER say NEVER.

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “Deck the LOLs. Let’s loosen up: share a side-splitting story from the last year. What made you laugh out loud until tears formed?”

Work Diet

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Much of the past year at SmallBox I took a deep dive into human resources, specifically building out processes and a focus on professional development. (I’ve written some about our focus on cultural ownership, career paths and more, if you’re curious). It was incredibly rewarding work on many levels, something we really needed to focus on, and may possibly be the best value I could have provided to my workplace.

Despite the sense of accomplishment, I struggled with a growing pang. Something was missing. I’d gotten so immersed in this human resources work, and business development too, that meanwhile the slice of time I could spend on the creative side of my job narrowed.

Jeb sometimes talks about the ideal “work diet,” or the things you need to feel satisfied with what you do for a living. Even in the best of work situations, misalignment in your work diet can change your day-to-day dynamic entirely. It took a couple of months of pangs and uncertainty for me to realize what was up.

When it finally hit me that I wasn’t getting the full creative outlet I needed, I knew it was up to me to make changes. I spent a fair amount of my personal time playing around in Illustrator. I asked to take part in projects where I could concept and sketch. Essentially I stopped waiting for exciting challenges and creative projects to fall in my lap. I’m surrounded by some of the most talented and creative people I’ve ever worked with, it was just a matter of setting the intention and making this a priority.

For me, there’s nothing quite like the fire when I get taken by an idea, when I can collaborate with others to bring something into the world. I simply can’t ignore that part of my work diet. Now that I know this, I can shape how I spend my time.

Image from Factory Week

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “Flip the script. What did you change your mind about this year? Was it a big deal – the way you feel about an issue? Or something small – maybe you learned to like Brussels sprouts? What was the moment or series of moments that changed how you felt?”

Closure

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In the final moments in the house, I spent a lot of time trying to get a great photo of the door knob in our tiny kitchen pantry, in our tiny galley kitchen. I had a mountain of other things to do – cleaning, hauling, sorting. The weight of a move half-done hung over me. But this knob was a detail I feared I may long forget, when this house became a distant memory. By this point the house was nearly empty, and everything sounded over loud. Every move I made sent out sharp, jarring echoes.

For whatever reason, this door knob always captured my imagination. Maybe because it was a last original detail in an otherwise completely rehabbed room. Maybe it was that the keyhole was deep and dark, like it might hide secret worlds, or at least secrets. The symbolism of doors left slightly ajar was not lost on me either. To move on, this door must close.

The move was a slow burn. We saved for years, house-hunted for months. Like all things that seem far away, one day, suddenly, the move was a lump in my throat. Endings are just hard, even when there’s something exciting ahead.

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “Share your year in photos. Was there a moment of unrestrained happiness? An unexpected encounter?”

Coaching at TEDx

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Earlier this year, I volunteered as a Speaker Coach for TEDxIndianapolis. I’m not sure if this is a TED thing, or if the local organizers at Big Car & co. came up with the concept of pairing speakers with coaches. I really enjoyed the process and saw the value a role like this could bring, especially to reluctant speakers, or those who need a lot of preparation.

(If you’re one of those quick studies who can speak with just a small amount of prep, Kiko Suarez gave an excellent portrait of what it’s like for those of us who have to work at it).

Coaches were asked to be a sounding board, to listen to the speaker practice their talk and provide feedback. We were also expected to be present during the rehearsal the day before the event.

Among the benefits: the speaker gets practice and consistent feedback from someone who has the context of how the topic evolved, there’s accountability in periodic check-ins, and the speaker has built rapport with someone who can help ease pre-talk jitters. Event organizers also get the peace of mind that they don’t have a speaker who is woefully unprepared.

I had the honor to work with Bud Caddell on his talk on complex systems. He is a natural and didn’t need a lot of coaching, so my job was incredibly easy. Watch his talk:

Take a Chance

I like clever name tags, where there’s a little space for something extra. A random fact. Favorite color. Spirit Animal. You get the idea.

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I guess I should say I usually like them. The version at the Creative Mornings launch left me feeling a little… sad? stumped? It asked one simple question: What’s the last chance you took?

Ordering a questionable spicy octopus dish at Sushi Bar a couple of months ago didn’t seem chance-y enough. The line stayed blank. Am I more risk-averse than I give myself credit for?

To get to a big chance I took, I kept being drawn far into my past. To launching Think Kit with just two days of planning several years ago. To leaving a great job and moving to Indy during a challenging economy back in 2009. Or even further back, to driving aimlessly across the country with no hotel reservations and no agenda in the summer of 2001.

Maybe I need to reset my thinking on chance. Is ordering something a bit crazy off the menu enough? I’d say no, but I don’t need to sky dive to experience the thrill that can come with chance either. I’d be happy to be able to say I’m taking chances on people, on art, on writing.

What was the last chance you took?

#heartmyhood: a Monon ode

I moved this summer, after a good, long house-hunting. Our exhaustive and detailed list of musts included proximity to the Monon Trail. The Monon is my city artery – it gets me to work, to home. It’s my frequent path for long runs.

The trail connected me to the city in a way I never expected. I remember thinking how Carmel seemed like a distant land, such a far drive away. Things look a little bit different after running the trail across city lines. The Monon made the city smaller, closer – like all of Indy is my neighborhood.

These runs along the trail during autumn are a sight to behold. Some of the trees are all spent, others have just gotten into their fall groove. Seeing these changes unfold never gets old.

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#heartmyhood is a collaboration between SmallBox and Indianapolis Neighborhood Resource Center to spread neighborhood love in Indy

Sketchnotes from MWUX14

About this time of year, I begin to reflect on the goals I started with in January, and what I’ve accomplished so far. My inventory of completed creative projects is coming up short. I’ll need a pretty intense few months of making to create a dent, and so I’ve adopted a new rally cry:

For goodness make

 
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Fun in the Make Space
 

Given my current thinking and plotting along those lines, Midwest UX 14 came at a good time. Immersing myself in a couple of days worth of tinkering in the Make Space, taking in a screening of the Maker documentary, and all kinds of talks about design and creativity was just what I needed. Here were a few of my favorite takeaways:

Making begins in the real world.

Not in Photoshop. Not in web-based tools. Before even booting up the digital tools, you’ll likely follow the Maker Continuum:

1) Idea in your head
2) A sketch on a page
3) A conversation with others.

As if I needed an excuse to want to step away from the screen! My sketchnotes from Todd Zaki Warfel, Make. Mentor. Learn.

 

 

Perspectives are awaiting discovery.

When you’re solving a problem, the blank slate is a little bit scarier if you fool yourself into believing you have to invent something brand new. Steve Smith made a great point about how other perspectives are all around, you just need to look for them.

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Image credits: Steve Smith, from Producing Creativity.

More of my sketchnotes from MWUX14.

 

Outtakes from an Innovation Triad

For the past couple of months, I’ve been learning a new framework for problem solving. Jeremy Houchens, Jenny Banner and I formed an “innovation triad,” or so we’ve been dubbed by Culture Sync, the group that is facilitating our process. Here’s what I knew when we got started: we’d be learning from the minds behind Tribal Leadership, Dierdre from Culture Sync would be showing us the ropes, and we’d be working as a team to solve a problem.

While I’m learning a lot, this post isn’t about the methods (though perhaps once we wrap, I’ll write more about that), but rather some of the fringe lessons I’ve learned while participating in this process.

1) If you haven’t worked with people outside your normal sphere, go forth and do it!

I’ve worked at SmallBox for four years. Until about a month and a half ago, we hadn’t hired anyone for a year and a half. That’s a long time to go without introducing new collaborators into the work world. I’ve been really energized by learning from Jeremy and Jenny, their processes and approach.

2) Your perspective is unique. Guess what? The same is true for everyone else.

Part of our work has been interviewing people in our community. We record the interviews, then listen back to what we heard. One of the methods has us breaking down what we heard and pulling out words and ideas from their responses. It’s been fascinating to see what different things we “hear” from the same recording.

It was a good reminder to me how we all perceive and experience the things before us in our own unique way. And really, how cool is that? No one else sees the world like you do.

3) There’s liberation in silliness. It doesn’t have to be all serious, all the time.

mushroom-taco

Jeremy had been doing a little extra credit for the group, including trying like hell to find a fitting name for our triad. Early in our sessions, we took an inventory of skills, and one for Jeremy was humor. When it came to the name, he was definitely leaning on that skill.

For his naming process, he went back to some of the shared experiences we had. There was a walking meeting when we discovered a trail overgrown with mushrooms. In another session, we tried to tap into our collective outrage to frame up our problem, and we discovered are three of the least angry people on the planet.

The names he came up with pulled from those stories, things like Angry Mushrooms and later, the name that began to stick, the Mushroom Taco triad. I didn’t necessarily think the rest of the group gave a lot of validation to the name ideas at first. Angry Mushrooms and the like just seemed too silly to be the name for an official thing.

At some point I was won over by Jeremy’s investment in the naming process, and I made the mushroom taco image as a way to provide the validation I don’t think I’d given previously. It’s a good thing to be forced to reckon with my seriousness bias.

If anyone is curious about the triad or our process, I’m happy to talk more. Just drop me a note.

 

(Sort of) home

Going back to Chicago is like going home. Sort of.

Heading to my old neighborhood, all the store fronts are different. A rotation of businesses, of spaces, lives and details changed. But from a 30,000 foot view, the city looks the same as when I left in 2005. It feels the same. The old fixtures remain.

Snapshots from a weekend (sort of) home:

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(1) I managed to get in my miles – not an easy feat when traveling. A five miler on Saturday, ten on Sunday. Running flies by with such a view. I’ve always been captivated by the lake. It’s perhaps the thing I miss most about the city. So expansive. Endless it seems. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking with my eyes fixed on its waves.
(2) To know me is to know that popcorn is my favorite snack. From the Oak Street Beach murals, the scenes of a Lake Shore run.
(3) Cappuccino art from Intelligentsia. Part one of my favorite Intelligentsia/Reckless Records Lakeview combo.
(4) Wrigley, Louie and I.

Not pictured:
Dinner at Senza. Highly recommended if you’re looking to splurge on a 10 course meal. An incredible experience – creative food, cool, yet comfortable environment. It took a fair amount of restraint to not photograph every course, each its own piece of art. I didn’t want to spoil the meal with low grade iPhone pics. Here’s the menu we enjoyed.