If you think the Unique Selling Proposition (USP) is something only marketers need to worry about, have a look at this snippet from a letter to T.S. Eliot, by his boss. Geoffrey Faber is explaining why Eliot was the ideal candidate to take charge of poetry publishing at Faber and Gwyer, the firm that eventually became famous under the name Faber and Faber.

In you we have found a man who combines literary gifts with business instincts, who has a wide circle of literary friends, and who is quite as much at home on the lower levels as on the lonely peaks.

(Geoffrey Faber, from a letter in the current British Library exhibition T.S. Eliot the Publisher)

This appointment was a pivotal moment in Eliot's career: it allowed him to escape his day job at Lloyds Bank, and helped him cement his literary reputation by becoming the most authoritative and influential poetry publisher in Britain, publishing writers such as W.H. Auden, Steven Spender, Louis MacNeice and Ted Hughes.

It was also a decisive moment for Geoffrey Faber, since securing Eliot helped him realise his ambition to grow the firm into a major player in the publishing industry.

So it's interesting to note that Eliot's Unique Selling Proposition- a critical factor in his own success as well as Faber's - was his ability to understand and operate in two worlds at once, as both poet and businessman. As we saw in The T.S. Eliot Guide to Success, this made him something of an outsider among his business associates and literary friends. He didn't fit the stereotype of either the poet or the banker.

But as Frans Johansson explains in The Medici Effect, creativity is often the result of combining different perspectives:

when you step into an intersection of fields, disciplines, or cultures, you can combine existing concepts into a large number of extraordinary new ideas.

In the marketing sphere, this leads to what Sonia Simone calls a Crossroads USP.

Eliot succeeded because he dared to be different and pursue his real interests, no matter how contradictory they appeared to other people. Most of the time, this meant he was a square peg in a round hole. But when a big opportunity came knocking, it was the very thing that made him a perfect fit.

To learn more about Eliot's career and see some fascinating letters and other documents, visit the free exhibition at the British Library, In a Bloomsbury Square: T.S. Eliot the Publisher.

What's Your USP?

Has anyone ever told you the USP that made them hire you or want to work with you?

How would you describe your USP?

About the Author: Mark McGuinness is a poet, creative coach and co-founder of Lateral Action. Subscribe today to get free updates by email or RSS.

Of all the painfully funny cartoons on Hugh MacLeod's Gapingvoid blog, for me this is the funniest and most painful.

It's painful because I know exactly how Eric feels. A few years ago, I was in his shoes. And I feel for him - because I know if he doesn't change, his story is going to have a messy ending.

The humour, of course, turns on the idea of what is 'asking for too much'. In Eric's universe, it's perfectly reasonable to expect a minimum level of comfort and freedom to pursue his own interests.

In the world's eyes, this is enough to brand him 'a deranged lunatic'. The world doesn't work like that. Comfort and pleasure are reserved for those who toe the line and get a haircut, a shave and a steady job. Anything else is asking for trouble.

What Is Eric's Problem?

Eric's situation reminds me of the famous words of George Bernard Shaw:

The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man.

Eric's problem is that he isn't doing either. He's not conforming to the ways of the world. But he isn't adapting the world to himself either. He's sitting around expecting the world to adapt to him - not going out and making it happen.

Eric may think he's just sitting there quietly minding his own business. But the longer he sits there, the sooner he will feel the impact of Brutal Economic Reality colliding with his expectations. No prizes for guessing who's going to come off worst.

So, should Eric grow up and stop being a deranged lunatic? Not if you ask me. He should embrace his lunacy and go for it. But first, he needs to stop kidding himself.

Eric fancies himself as a bohemian, a lateral thinker and a rebel. In reality, he's a stereotype - the poor neglected artist with a misplaced sense of entitlement and a grudge against society. His heroes include Charles Baudelaire and Gustave Flaubert - but nobody has told him that they could afford to be rebellious artists railing against society because daddy was footing the bill.

So unless Eric can find himself a trust fund fast, he faces a stark choice: get in line at the job centre or face the consequences. Unless, that is, he's serious about living his alternative lifestyle - in which case he needs to work out a way to make it happen. Which means less lateral thinking and more lateral action.

Of course, Eric isn't stupid. Deep down, he knows all this. But he's ignoring it for two reasons:

1. It scares him shitless.
2. He's in the grip of his Inner Whining Artist

Beware of Your Inner Whining Artist

You've probably heard of your Inner Child. You may even have tried to 'get in touch' with him or her. And if you're of the artistic persuasion, you can probably recognise your Inner Critic - you know, that nagging critical voice telling you your work is crap and will never measure up to your ridiculous ambitions, however hard you try.

But I'll bet you've never heard of your Inner Whining Artist, so I'm here to warn you about it. You see, if you're not careful, this little insidious part of your unconscious mind can sabotage all your dreams and keep you stuck like Eric - forever.

Your Inner Whining Artist (IWA) is the part of you that tells you you're a genius waiting to be discovered. If only the big bad world would sit up and recognise your talent, the IWA tells you, all your problems would be over. Audiences and critics would bow at your feet, agents would queue up to represent you, and all the people who'd ever rejected your work would be gorging themselves on humble pie. You just need to get your break, to be discovered. It can only be a matter of time ...

Who could resist a voice like that? A voice so sympathetic, so concerned for your well-being? Certainly not Eric. He's been listening to the IWA for so long, he doesn't even realise what he's doing. He's taken on the voice and persona of the IWA so completely that he's forgotten what it's like to think and act for himself. From the outside, of course, it's painfully obvious he's on a hiding to nothing - but every time his friends try to tell him that, the IWA just adds them to the list of insensitive people who don't appreciate his genius.

The IWA is the ultimate wolf in sheep's clothing. It knows all your weak spots and all the right emotional buttons to push. It plays on your vanity and even manages to twist your ambition to justify sitting around doing nothing but complaining.

Once upon a time, the IWA and I were good mates. The big difference between me and Eric is that I realised what was happening and gave the IWA the boot. It hasn't vanished completely - on bad days, it knocks on the door to see if I want to have a chat for old times' sake, but it's not so hard to shoo it away. Here's how you can do the same.

How to Lose Touch with Your Inner Whining Artist

1. Know Your Enemy

Next time you catch yourself listening to your IWA, notice what it's like. What tone of voice does it use? How does it make you feel? Can you picture its face? Is it male or female? Does it look like you or someone else? When is it most likely to pop up and start telling you how unfairly you're being treated?

2. Don't Give the IWA Airtime

Imagine the IWA is like a radio playing in the background. Switch it off. Or change channels. Or whistle or sing to yourself to drown it out. Or strike up a conversation with someone else. Or listen to whatever sounds you can hear around you, right now. Or get on with some work. Whatever you do, stop listening to the IWA. It's like that annoying teasing kid at school - it only wants attention, ignore it and it will go away. For now.

3. Accept Things As They Are - Then Change Them

The IWA thrives on telling you about an ideal world that is much fairer/more interesting/more beautiful than this one. It keeps the fantasy going to distract you from the reality of your situation. It knows that as soon as you see it - really see it - for yourself, you'll start waking up to your real life. You'll feel the fear - but also the excitement of making your dream a reality. You'll stop complaining that life 'isn't fair' and start doing something about it.

You'll start facing down the fear and taking action, doing the difficult things you've been shirking. You'll start making a difference to your own life and to other people. You'll make new friends and leave the IWA behind...

Of course, you don't have to do any of this. You can carry on listening to the IWA and forget you ever read this article. Maybe life will be easier that way.

Your choice.

How Do You Deal with the Inner Whining Artist?

Do you recognise the Inner Whining Artist?

Have you given your IWA the boot? If so, how did you do it?

What would you do if the IWA vanished from your life?

About the Author: Mark McGuinness is a poet, creative coach and co-founder of Lateral Action. Subscribe today to get free updates by email or RSS.

This video of a conversation between Brian Eno and SimCity game designer Will Wright (via Fresh Creation) reveals a surprising truth about creativity.

The most beautiful, complex and apparently spontaneous creations are often produced by following a few very simple, very rigid rules.

In their talk, Eno and Wright show some computer animations in which each coloured cell on the screen is programmed to analyse the behaviour of the cells next to it, and alter its own behaviour in response.

For example: "If three of your neighbours are alive, you're you'll survive into the next generation. Or if only one of them is alive, you're going to die."

When the program runs at high speed these rules change the colours of the cells in each 'generation', creating complex patterns of colours flickering across the screen.

Suppose you had to make this as a film, what we're seeing here. It would be very complicated, that's a lot of information if you had to specify it as a visual phenomenon like that.

But what actually has happened is that there's this tiny little set of rules and this landscape for them to work in. And the set of rules is typically like a 2K document or something like that, and you get all that richness.

So this is the power of generative systems, that you make seeds rather than forests.

(Brian Eno)

The full version of the talk (available on Fora.tv) references Richard Dawkins' observation that a typical willow tree seed only contains 800K of data, which would fit on an old-fashioned floppy disk.

To extend this metaphor, it sounds as though Eno and Wright are suggesting that creators are more like gardeners than architects, planting and watering the seeds to help them grow, but with no control over the emerging forms.

And these [computer animations] are very much the type of thing where you have no idea what it's going to look like, when you build the rules. You turn it on and it's always just a total surprise.

(Will Wright)

Simple rules like this underly the phenomenal complexity of Wright's classic game SimCity:

SimCity is underlaid by a series of very simple cellular automata like this, and they have a set of very simple rules for crime and traffic and pollution. And on top of that we overlay all these nice graphics of cars and factories and all that.

But really underneath it's a very simple rule-based system like this, that allows us to simulate things, and it took a while to actually discover the rules but once we put together a few simple rules we got to the stage where we were seeing emergent phenomena.

We were seeing things like urban gentrification just with the simple interactions of the crime / land value rules and stuff like that. It seemed like it was a much more complex simulation than in fact it really was.

(Will Wright)

Something to bear in mind next time you try out the new organic shop in your area.

A brilliant example of a generative system in Eno's work is 77 Million Paintings, in which he fed 300 of his own paintings into a remixing program:

(If you like this clip, get the software DVD and watch it on a high-resolution screen. It will take your breath away. NB it plays on a computer, not a DVD player.)

Play It Simple

A point that comes up repeatedly in the Eno/Wright talk is that complex results emerge from simple rules. No rules mean there is no system, so nothing is generated. But if you add too many rules and risk breaking the system. The trick is to find just enough rules to get the system under way without destroying it prematurely.

Listening to the talk, I was reminded of playing improvisation games at The Spontaneity Shop: when actors try to improvise a scene in which 'anything goes', the results are flat and lifeless.

But introduce a simple rule such as 'one of you is higher status and the other', and it starts to come alive. Tweak the rules slightly - 'one of you is the servant but acts higher status than the master' - and you have a recipe for spontaneous comedy.

Twitter is another good example of a generative system. When I first tried Twitter, I didn't see the point. There was so little I could do. Type a 140 character message? Get messages from other people? Is that all?

But when I was persuaded to persist with Twitter, I discovered the incredible richness of the conversations and connections it facilitates. Now you can find me there most days. It's one of the very few web applications I would genuinely miss if it disappeared overnight.

I'm not the first one to be puzzled by Twitter's lack of 'obvious' features that can be found in similar - but less successful - networks such as FriendFeed or Plurk. But Eno and Wright would probably argue that Twitter is so successful because its rules are so simple.

But how can you know in advance which rules will bring you the best creative results? Which ideas should you pursue and implement, and which should you leave on the drawing-board?

You can't.

Which means you have to try things, play around with them, test quickly and test often. Allow failure to tag along as a daily playmate.

Isn't that the beauty of real creativity, that you wake up every morning not knowing what you're going to discover?

What Do You Think?

What do you make of the idea that complex phenomena are created and determined by simple rules?

What other examples of generative systems can you think of - in the arts, sciences, business and society?

What difference would it make to your work if you thought of yourself as making seeds rather than forests?

About the Author: Mark McGuinness is a poet, creative coach and co-founder of Lateral Action. Subscribe today to get free updates by email or RSS.

Specifically, his book A Whole New Mind provided inspiration for the very first article we published - Innovate or Die: Why Creativity Is Economic Priority Number One - and more recently I wrote about his TED Talk, in Why Rewards Don't Work.

But more generally, Dan's writings have been a big influence on our thinking as we've developed the site. He is one of the most articulate advocates of the new ways of thinking, communicating, working and doing business that are essential for success in the creative economy.

His first book, Free Agent Nation, described the shift from corporate team allegiances to 'the future of working for yourself', as micropreneurs, consultants and innovative small businesses. (It also featured a profile of a certain Brian Clark, in his pre-Copyblogger and Lateral Action days.)

In A Whole New Mind he argued that the new reality of work requires a change of mindset - away from the logical, 'left-brain' abilities of 20th century knowledge workers, towards more holistic and creative 'right brain' talents of 21st century creative workers.

The Adventures of Johnny Bunko presented radical career advice in a radically different format - a comic book in the Japanese manga style. It charts the story of Johnny as he learns to rip up conventional career advice in favour of something much more rewarding, in every sense.

Dan's new book, Drive, is subtitled 'the surprising truth about what motivates us'. It introduces some scientific research that turns received business practice on its head - and offers all of us a more inspiring and meaningful vision of work. Drive is available to pre-order now at Amazon.

Dan was kind enough to answer some questions for Lateral Action readers. Here's what he had to say.

1. In A Whole New Mind, you argue that the three megatrends of Abundance Asia and Automation are propelling us into the Conceptual Age, in which economic and career success no longer derive from 'left brain' logical thinking, but from 'right brain' skills such as design, story and play. How has this process been affected by the economic crisis, and what are the implications for how we approach our work?

The recession only deepens and accelerates the three A's. Companies are intent to cut costs so they'll push more routine work to Asia and other low-cost providers overseas. Likewise, when they're looking to cut costs, they'll find ways to automate certain process and replace expensive human labor with less expensive software. Meantime, levels of material abundance are already so high, even with the recession, that it's going to take even bigger, bolder leaps of imagination to create offerings that will get cash-poor and credit-strapped customers to open their wallets.

2. One of the chapters of A Whole New Mind advocates storytelling as a powerful tool for communicating ideas. You really walked the talk in your next book, Johnny Bunko - a career guide for young people written as a manga graphic novel. What made you choose such an unconventional format for a business book?

It was a combination of factors, really.

First, I spent a few months in Japan in 2007 studying the manga industry. One of the things you quickly discover is that comics in Japan and comics in American have very different places in people's lives. In Japan, comics are ubquitous. You can find manga for just about every topic -- from time management to politics to history to investing. Meanwhile, manga was becoming extremely popular here in America. But we still thought of it as a kids' medium. Nobody was creating it for people over 17. So I thought: Why not use this incredibly powerful expressive form to reinvent the business book?

Second, I began to think about the role of books in a world where people have so many other avenues to information. For career information in particular, it seemed that all the tactical information was available for free online. Putting that sort of info into a printed book didn't make much sense. But I did think there was value to readers in creating books that offered the sort of insights that couldn't be Googled -- strategic, big picture advice. That's what I tried to do with the six big lessons in the book. And manga was the perfect medium for that.

Third, and this one I sorta discovered after the fact, graphic novels export well. They are easy to translate into other languages and they are very accessible across cultures. You'll notice that there is no nationality mentioned in the book. That's because I didn't want to write an American book. I wanted to write a book that was broadly applicable to white-collar workers all over the world.

3. Johnny Bunko has been a resounding hit, so you obviously achieved your goal with regard to your audience. But what was it like for you as an author to work in this new medium? What effect did it have on your creative process?

It was challenging. But I was very fortunate to work with someone as talented as Rob Ten Pas, who taught me a huge amount. I didn't have a sense really of how to tell a story using pictures and words in concert. So I started out overwriting quite a bit. But I found myself really paring back the text and thanks to Rob, understanding how much narrative freight the images could carry. As for the longer term effect on my creative process, it gave me even greater respect for the power of story in the persuasion and learning.

4. In your previous books you've touched on the effect of intrinsic and extrinsic motivations on the quality of work and life. What made you decide to devote an entire book to the subject - your forthcoming Drive?

First, I'm glad you noticed those little blips in the earlier works! You're one of the few who has!

I guess the main reason I decided to devote a book to this topic is that I started looking at the research and discovered how fascinating and voluminous it was. What's more, lots and lots of what I read really called into question many guiding assumptions about how we run our businesses and our lives. In fact, I devote an entire chapter to the "seven deadly flaws" of carrots and sticks. Every time I tell people about these sorts of experiments, they're surprised and intrigued. That's a good reaction if you're a writer.

5. Drive is subtitled 'the surprising truth about what motivates us'. What is that truth, and why does it matter?

There's a myth in business that the only way to get people to perform at a high level is with carrots and sticks. But that's just wrong - not wrong morally, but wrong scientifically. Forty years of science tells us that those sorts of motivators - If you do this, then you'll get that - do work, but only in a surprisingly narrow band of circumstances. And for creative conceptual work, those if-then motivators usually make things worse.

The better approach - more enduring and more effective - is motivation built around three ingredients: Autonomy (the desire to direct our own lives), Mastery (the urge to get better at things that matter, and Purpose (the desire to do what we do in the service of something larger than ourselves.)

6. What kind of reception have you had from business leaders when you've confronted them with the research evidence about different types of motivation?

They're actually quite intrigued by the research - and you can often see the lightbulb going off as they begin to relate it to their own experiences. Also, I've already heard from lots of people and companies in the shadows, who are almost whispering, "Yeah, you're right. We're already doing this. But we don't want our competitors to find out."

7. Many of our readers are attempting to find the right balance between doing work they love (intrinsic motivation) and earning a living (extrinsic motivation). What advice can you offer them?

That's an eternal struggle. I face it, too. But what I've discovered is that you have to let intrinsic motivation take the lead. If extrinsic motivators begin dictating what you do and how you do it too much, you're heading down a very dangerous path. My general advice - and one I've tried to adhere to myself - is to follow your intrinsic motivation, but to always be shrewd and savvy about the realities of business and to recognize that you'll never have a "pure" existence. Also, being frugal is always wise.

Dan Pink is the best-selling author of Free Agent Nation, A Whole New Mind, The Adventures of Johnny Bunko and the forthcoming Drive, available to pre-order at Amazon. For more inspiration from Dan, visit his website and follow him on Twitter.

Miffy has always been there.

If you met her as a child, you won't have forgotten her.

Each time you see her iconic face - two simple dots and a cross for her mouth - in books, on posters, in the toy shop, it's like running into an old friend. You can almost see her wave.

So it was a bit of a shock - and a delight - to come across this interview with author and illustrator Dick Bruna (via Fresh Creation), and to register that Miffy had a creator.

I almost didn't want to watch it, for fear of spoiling the magic. But Bruna is just as charming as his creations, and full of wisdom for creators. Here's what he had to say.

Less Is More

When I'm drawing Miffy, just the face, the two eyes and the little cross, it can take forever to make her look a tiny bit unhappy or a tiny bit cheerful. I spend ages working on these minute details.

Miffy's Mum and Dad, for instance, being a little older, have an extra line on their crosses, a wrinkle.

(Dick Bruna Interview.)

The less you do, the more it matters. And the more you do, the less you need to do.

Aikido master Gozo Shioda said he was better in his seventies than in his eighties - he was wasting less effort, doing only what was absolutely necessary to throw his youthful opponents as they huffed and puffed.

Bruna is a master of minimalism. The less he puts on a page, the bigger it looms. Miffy is tiny and enormous at the same time. She is unmistakeable.

Takeaway: Each time you start a piece of work, resolve to do less than last time. Only do the bits you absolutely have to. The bits that would leave a hole if they were missing.

Keep Your Audience in Mind

When I'm sitting at my drawing table it sometimes feels as if a child is standing there, looking straight at me. It's one of the reasons my figures are always facing you. Children have this great directness.

(Dick Bruna Interview.)

I've heard this before, from the many writers I've coached over the years. I've seen writers get stuck when they have the wrong people in mind as they write - the critics, their peers or the academics.

But when the right person walks into your mind, it's as if a switch has been flipped. When you focus on them, and what you want to say to them, the words become obvious.

Takeaway: Who are you creating for? Before starting work, call them to mind. Look at them. Listen to them. Notice how they feel, what they want from you. Then you'll know what to do.

Learn from the Masters

You're always trying to improve, achieve greater simplicity. It's been a process, getting to this plane surface. As it was for Mondriaan and many others. This has become my style. I very rarely use perspective.

Matisse of course taught me simplicity and the use of colours. In his final years he made these cut-outs in plain colours on a white surface. I really liked those. In my work I've also tried to reduce things as much as I could, leaving only the bare essentials.

(Dick Bruna Interview.)

We've all seen the works of Mondrian and Matisse. But how many of us have looked at them like Bruna?

We revere Bruna's work because he revered his own masters. He followed in their footsteps until their path became his own.

Takeaway: Out of countless artists in history, there are one or two with something important to teach you. When you find them, devour their work. Look at everything they did. Study it. Copy it. Memorize it. Stay with it, until you learn your lesson.

Keep Working

You knew this was coming, didn't you? I know I go on about it, but creativity really is work. But not just any work. Work that you love. Work with meaning and purpose.

Bruna is in his eighties and still working seven days a week. I doubt he needs the money. He's doing it because he loves it. Because he wants to keep bringing joy and wonder to countless children and adults across the world.

That's something to aspire to. I hope I'm still hard at it in my eighties, doing something I enjoy that people are pleased to see.

Takeaway: What are you spending your time on today? Are you following a path you can see yourself treading for the rest of your life? If not, maybe it's time to switch.

What Do You Make of Miffy?

What stood out from the interview for you?

Have you ever created more by doing less? How?

Who are your creative masters? What have you learned from them?

About the Author: Mark McGuinness is a poet, creative coach and co-founder of Lateral Action. Subscribe today to get free updates by email or RSS.

Once upon a time there was a Buddhist master called Ajahn Chah, who lived deep in the forests of Thailand. He and his monks lived a frugal life of discipline and meditation. Although seemingly cut off from the world, his fame as a teacher spread so widely that he attracted pupils from the 'Western Paradises' of the United States, who donned the saffron robe and studied side-by-side with the local monks.

One day the monastery was visited by a group of US Marines. During the course of their stay, there was a certain amount of friction between the American monks (who included some former Marines) and the American soldiers.

A group of them were sitting together in the sun. One Marine, irritated by the insects swarming over him, started swatting any that landed on his body. One of the American monks took exception to this, and told him "We don't kill any living creatures in the monastery, we regard all life as sacred". The Marine was scornful. "You don't seriously believe that, do you?" Just as they were locking horns, Ajahn Chah looked up and smiled at the Marine:

Do you think you can kill all the insects?

This stopped the Marine in his tracks. "I guess not," he said. Ajahn Chah smiled and carried on drinking his tea.

As the Abbot of the monastery, Ajahn Chah might have been expected to take the monk's side, to lay down the law to his visitors and instruct them in the teachings of the Buddha about compassion and nonviolence. But he didn't do that.

The monk got stuck because he believed that he was right and the Marine needed to come round to seeing things his way. He tried to tell the Marine what he 'should' do, and got frustrated when the Marine didn't get it.

But Ajahn Chah wasn't interested in being right, only in being effective. So he sidestepped the debate and spoke to the Marine's self-interest. Instead of asking the soldier to consider the insects' predicament, he prompted him to reflect on his own actions, and whether he could realistically get what he wanted.

Now, the story doesn't end with the Marine abandoning his gun for a saffron robe and begging bowl. He wasn't fired with enthusiasm to learn about the Buddha's teachings. But the insects were spared. And the chances are that guy thought twice before swatting insects in future.

This is the story that came to mind when I thought about what to write for this year's Blog Action Day, on the theme of Climate Change.

Now, given that this is a blog about applied creativity, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to conclude I should write something about the urgent need for creativity and innovation on a massive scale, to tackle the environmental problems we face. But what could I write that wouldn't sound glib, compared to the enormity of the challenge?

The Problem with Problem-Solving

When I thought of that story, it reminded me of some fundamental conclusions I've come to about creativity:

• A. Solving the problem is often the easy bit.
• B. The hard bit is getting people to recognise that there is a problem.
• C. The really hard bit is getting people to recognise that there is a problem that affects them.

In my experience, people who are completely stuck for ideas at A and B suddenly become incredibly creative and productive when they reach C.

Sometimes, you don't even need a lot of creativity. When the Marine reached C, he simply stopped what he was doing. Right now, there are plenty of us who could make a big difference to the environment by simply reaching C and stopping what we are doing.

We tend to focus on problem solving (A) as being 'the creative bit'. But a lot of the time, the real creativity is about getting people to C.

This is the kind of creativity Ajahn Chah used with the Marine. The kind of creativity Al Gore uses with his Inconvenient Truth presentation and feature film. The kind of creativity sites like Do the Green Thing and Treehugger use every day to inspire people to change their behaviour. The kind of creativity bloggers all over the world are using today, to get the message out that these are issues that affect us all, and that all of us can affect.

Because solving the problems at A really is the easy bit, even when we're talking climate change and global warming. I'm not saying it's easy, far from it. But it looks to me as though we're stuck trying to get everyone - or even a majority - to C.

The Challenge of Changing Minds

Supposing we got everyone to agree that this is a problem that affects us all, and that we're committed to solving.

Supposing the Europeans and Americans and Indians and Chinese and the rest of us stopped pointing the finger at the others and how much they were getting away with, and instead agreed to bring our own emissions down - and stuck to the agreement.

Supposing the vested interests were to stop campaigning to maintain the status quo, and started using all their time and effort and energy and money and political influence to come up with creative new options for the future.

Supposing our politicians were able to step outside the short-term re-election game for long enough to implement programmes of change that would safeguard our environment in the long term.

Supposing each of us were able to rise above our daily worries long enough to see the impact of our daily actions, and started making new decisions about where we work and what we do and where we shop and what we buy and where we live and how we treat our surroundings.

If that sounds like pie in the sky, then it gives you an idea of how much creativity is required to get us to C. That's the bad news.

The good news is that if we can get enough people to C, then it will demonstrate how much creativity we really have. And with all that creativity and all those people on board, who knows how much we could achieve at A?

So how can we get to C?

I hope you won't be too disappointed if I don't pull a rabbit out of the hat at this point. All I can do is point out what definitely won't work - and highlight a few things that have a chance of working.

Things That Won't Work

'Should'

We'll never get most people to C by acting like the monk. He had good intentions, but he got stuck because he felt he was right, the Marine was wrong, and it was up to him to tell the Marine what he 'should' be doing.

Unfortunately, there are a lot of well-intentioned environmentalists out there acting just like the monk, i.e. telling people they 'should' become more environmentally aware and they 'should' change their behaviour as a result.

I don't know about you, but the minute someone tells me what I 'should' be doing, I get an urge to do the opposite. I suspect the Marine felt the same way. As well as all those people who 'should' be doing something different to save the environment.

Albert Ellis, the founder of rational-emotive behaviour psychotherapy, had a word for language like 'should', 'ought', 'must' and 'have to'. He called it musturbation, and told his clients it was a bad habit. :-)

Being right

Objectively and logically, of course, the scientists and environmentalists are probably right. But if you take a random sample of human beings - say, your family, friends, colleagues and customers - you may be forced to conclude that human beings are not objective, logical creatures. So objective, logical arguments are unlikely to be effective on their own, no matter how 'right' they are.

Things That Might Work

Storytelling

One of the most moving sections of An Inconvenient Truth is when Al Gore tells the story of his father's tobacco farm, and how his father stopped farming the crop after the death of his daughter, Al's sister, from lung cancer. Whatever your views about smoking, a story like that gets straight to the heart of the matter. It's hard to forget - and hard to resist.

Takeaway: Stories reveal the human dimension of a situation. They are engaging, persuasive and sticky. Marshall your facts and your arguments - then ask yourself 'Who does this remind me of? How can I tell their story to best effect, for my audience?'.

Reframing

Reframing is the art of taking a set of facts and changing their meaning while leaving the facts intact. It's what Ajahn Chah used to stop the Marine killing insects.

For example, there are lots of energy adverts doing the rounds with the same theme: cutting down your energy use = cutting down your energy bills. They usually involve the story (see what I mean?) of a family in which the eco-conscious teenager is for once in agreement with the penny-pinching father: Dad proudly proclaims his commitment to saving the planet while winking to camera about the real 'reductions' he has in mind. Same outcome, different meaning.

I came across another clever reframe in a documentary about climate change, where environmentalists were making their case to governments by calculating the monetary value of the 'services' provided by natural pheonomena. E.g. If we chop down this forest, how much would it cost us to build and maintain a facility capable of transforming the same volume of carbon dioxide into oxygen? Or if we allow this coral reef to be destroyed, how much would it cost us to recreate the biodiversity of species it sustains, many of which provide us with food? Eco-purists would probably condemn this as an example of the commodification of nature - but supposing the argument proves effective?

Takeaway: Look at the facts objectively. Forget what they mean for you, with your value system. What could they mean for the other person? How can you frame your desired outcome so that it appeals to their values?

Rewards

The art of reframing consists in finding 'hidden benefits' that persuade someone to pursue a previously unattractive goal. Sometimes that's easier said than done. It may be easier to introduce a new benefit, in the shape of a reward. Free parking and showers in the office for cyclists. No congestion charge for electric cars. Grants for installing solar panels on your roof.

We've seen before that there are limits to the power of rewards. We aren't going to bribe our way out of this situation. But sometimes they can play their part, especially when we're asking individuals go forego their short-term convenience (driving to work in your 4x4) for the long-term convenience of us all.

Takeaway: You can't buy buy-in, but sometimes adding a perk, treat or other reward can make the whole process easier. What's in your power to offer?

Punishment

Punishments are the flipside of rewards. Perks for cyclists go hand-in-hand with penalties for motorists.

The big danger with relying on punishments is that you end up with compliance, not the creativity demanded by climate change. But sometimes you need a minimum standard of compliance to get anything done.

Takeaway: Ask 'What will happen if they don't stick to our agreement? What consequences can I enforce - or invoke - to ensure compliance? And what's the downside of using the deterrent?'.

Peer Pressure

It's easier to resist drinking with your AA peers than with your old drinking buddies. That's the point of AA. It recognises the social pressures that influence our behaviour and makes it easier to do the hard thing by banding together for mutual support.

It may sound silly (i.e. not objective and logical) but one of the biggest barriers to a greener lifestyle is being the odd one out. The weirdo in cycle clips eating a vegan packed lunch in the corner of the canteen. But snazzy cycle racks at the front of the building and a 'fashionable' vegan menu could make all the difference.

A site like Do the Green Thing makes it easier to change ingrained habits, by sharing stories and examples from like-minded people. When they invite you to 'JOIN UP with people from 202 countries' they recognise that social proof is a powerful influencer. Following them on Twitter, you may reflect that '8.376 people can't be wrong'.

Takeaway: What trends and fashions are most influential among your target audience? How can you align your cause with them? How can you make it easy - and safe - for people to proclaim their allegience?

Feedback

This may be the most powerful option of all. Feedback is what happens when you join the dots between your actions and their consequences... and find them leading straight back to you.

The Marine realises he's wasting his effort. The tobacco farmer realises the damage he's doing. The polluter realises the cost to his reputation and future prosperity. At this point, we don't need to be told what to do. We know it and do it.

A device like the Wattson shows us exactly how much energy we're using - and how much money we're spending - in our homes, right now. More than that, it can turn energy-saving into a game, as you flip switches and turn down dials to bring your 'score' down. Much more fun than being lectured at. Who knew saving the planet could be so addictive?

We need Wattsons for transport, for shopping, for business, for government. When we have them, we'll be able to see the difference we're making, moment by moment, day by day. Maybe that's all we'll need in many cases.

Takeaway: Show, don't tell. Instead of lecturing me about what I should be doing, find an easy way to help me to join the dots bewteen my actions and their consequences. And trust me to draw my own conclusions. I may surprise you.

This article is our contribution to Blog Action Day 2009, on the theme of Climate Change. Visit the Blog Action Day site to see what you can do to make a difference today. After all, 8,638 blogs can't be wrong. :-)

Over to You

This is a long post, but I've barely scratched the surface of the issues. What did I miss?

Do you agree that our biggest problem is agreeing that we have a problem?

What can you add to the lists of what works and what doesn't?

About the Author: Mark McGuinness is a poet, creative coach and co-founder of Lateral Action. Subscribe today to get free updates by email or RSS.

She does a lot more than that. Globally famous as the first artist of any note to step completely outside the traditional commercial and institutional gallery system to manage her own career using the self-publishing and social networking tools of Web 2.0, Hazel Dooney has emerged not only as one of the most intriguing artists under 35 working in multiple media but also one of the most outspoken and controversial.

Just as her post-Pop figurative art is an ironic, critical response to the insidious influence entertainment and advertising media have had on identity and sexuality – as well as, in her recent works, the way identity and sexuality are defining new kinds of politics and religion – Hazel Dooney's intense, somewhat daunting, ascetic, Amazonian public persona is dedicated to blazing (and defending every inch of) a trail along which future generations of artists will trade with much greater control of their art, reputation, and income without having to rely on what she calls "phalanxes of self-important, self-interested intermediaries".

WARNING: Depending on where you work, some of the images in this article may not be safe for work.

Intriguingly, Dooney encourages artists to give up trying to control the copyright of their images and to allow their work and ideas to flow freely, with few restrictions, across the web. This Warholian ethos is rooted in her conviction that the real "locus of value" in art has shifted – from the artwork to the artist – and that this value is increased exponentially with awareness. It's up to the individual artist to work out how best to exploit this shift. Dooney doesn't pretend it's easy: as the subtitle of her widely read blog puts it, Art Is War.

Dooney came onto the Lateral Action radar via her interview with Hugh MacLeod on Gaping Void. We caught up with her at her beachside studio, one of two in which she works, an hour north of Sydney. During a brief break in a gruelling, 18-hour-a-day, seven-days-a-week schedule, she answered our questions.

1. What inspires you?

There are persistent, recurrent ideas about the way contemporary women's identities and sexuality have been shaped by a relentless, media-driven torrent of contradictory messages and images. There are also impressions of how politics, religion, and social trends tap into this torrent. I try to make sense of them through my art.

I'm loath to talk about inspiration. It's associated with excuses people give themselves for not making art – "I'm just not inspired!". In me, inspiration is replaced by self-discipline, deep thought, and hard work, every bloody day. And I'm never short of ideas. I have more than I'll ever be able to explore fully. The busier I am, the faster they flow.

If there's one area in which, maybe, I am seduced by the idea of inspiration, it's in new materials, new media. When I'm drawn to a particular ink or or a type of clay or a different sort of camera, I take time out to see what I can do with it – not always successfully [laughs].

2. You're something of an art world renegade -- you sacked the highly regarded galleries who were representing you, and took the business and marketing of your work into your own hands. Why? How has that worked out for you?

The why of it is obvious. I no longer wanted to deal with – or through – intermediaries who were intent on keeping those who really cared about my art at a distance from me. I no longer trusted those intermediaries to properly communicate who I was and what I was trying to accomplish in my art. And I lost faith in their abilities to market my work – especially in a world in which the web is the main medium of communication, information distribution, and transaction.

Most art dealers I know still have only the most rudimentary understanding of online media.

As for how it has worked out for me, my reputation has amplified to an extent that my work exceeds even ambitious estimates for it at auction in London, despite the fact that I have yet to exhibit anywhere in the UK or Europe. My income has risen to mid-six figures and most of my large paintings are sold even before they're finished. The value of my early work has risen over 1000 per cent in a decade. I'm able to work on what I want, the way I want, when I want.

But I haven't achieved this alone. I so haven't. I've had wise advisers, not the least of whom is my accountant. And I have a small, well-disciplined team of assistants.

3. So much for your relationship with the commercial side of the art world. What about the critics? How has the unconventional path you've taken affected the critical reception of your work?

My critical reception has always been mixed. In the past, it was largely because the underlying intent of my art, which was cute, candy-colored and accessible, was left up to the critics to work out by themselves. I didn't feel the need to explain, let alone justify, my ideas. However, I realise now that was a naïve attitude, born out of youthful insecurity. It didn't help that my representative galleries were just as stupid.

Over the past few years, I have made an effort to articulate what my work is really about, to expose my convictions and explain the reasons for them. This has prompted discussion among critics and other artists, and although this discussion doesn't always resolve in my favour, my work (and my reputation) are now taken a lot more seriously.

The recent rise of a slightly older generation of Japanese artists also influenced by advertising, fashion, pornography, manga and anime – especially those who orbit Takashi Murakami's so-called Shock Pop movement – has also argued for increased respect.

Another problem between critics and me is my very public attacks on institutional and commercial galleries. These galleries are a source of substantial secondary income for many critics, especially for the few of any note in Australia, and are a principal source of advertising revenue not only for the dwindling number of glossy art magazines but also the arts pages of urban newspapers. It's not in their interests to see my views gain wider currency. So the best way to diminish them is to diminish me.

It hasn't worked. Quite the opposite. Old art media – which, like the gallery system, once acted as an arbitrating intermediary between content and consumer – are doomed.

4. Your art is provocative, playful and subversive. It's tempting to see your contrarian approach to business as all of a piece with your art. Would you agree? Or do you see the art and business as in completely separate categories?

They're separate. And the word 'playful' is probably inappropriate to both.

My large enamel paintings are colorful, shiney and provocative, sure, but they're intrinsically subversive. Similarly, I'm attempting to subvert the way the business of art operates – which is in the interests of everyone but the artist.

There's nothing ironic about my engagement with the art business. It's driven by an urgent desire to disintermediate the process of promoting and selling art, to encourage artists to communicate and transact more directly with those who are interested in their work. I also want to dismantle layers of obstruction that over the past century and a half, have been concocted by galleries to interfere in the relationship between collector and artist – not just physical but also intellectual and social obstruction.

5. So how do you bring your works to market? What part does social media play in your marketing? Do serious art collectors really hang out on Twitter?

I think it's simplistic to see online media in terms of a 'virtual shopfront', a phrase you hear all too often from galleries that have online presences (and still don't know how to use them). I rarely offer works for sale via the web – although, very recently, I offered two print series priced under $1,000 via Twitter and my blog as part of a process of 'democratising' my art for younger, less moneyed collectors. Prices for my large enamel and watercolour paintings are far out of reach for many now.

I use online media mainly to provoke conversations about what I am doing in my art and why, to explore some of the meanings and issues within (and without) the body of work. I also create a small window from my blog – and other online presences – to my creative process and those parts of it that occasionally intersect with my personal life. This increases both awareness and understanding of what I'm doing. There is a stone-in-the-pond effect that ripples out to those who are not particularly engaged in dialogues on the web and who browse only occasionally: often their interest is piqued enough to compel them to find out more about my work and me. Sometimes, they buy.

My web site, my blog and even my Twitter and Linked-In pages are intended more as resources from which potential collectors, critics, curators, and the merely curious to gain a better understanding of what I'm about. They can reference my entire output and its evolution. Naturally, there are different 'nodes' that resonate for different people. If they resonate strongly enough, an opportunity will often emerge for me.

That said, I have always had a broad base of collectors in Australia, New Zealand, S.E. Asia, China, Japan, the USA and Northern Europe. Many have more than one of my large enamel pieces and a few have ten or twenty.

6. When I enthuse about blogging and social media to fine artists, they often say it's all very well but if they are seen to be too active in promoting their own work, it could actually damage their standing in the art world. Apparently the done thing is to have agents and galleries do the dirty work of marketing for you, and doing it yourself could lower your status. What would you say to them?

They've drunk the Kool-Aid of the traditional system. The arts are no longer under the control of elitist cliques that have the power to arbitrate one's success or failure. Which is not to say such cliques don't still survive – in some places, like New York or London, they continue to thrive – but the web has given the many who aren't 'lucky' (or well-connected) enough to be anointed by them the chance to emerge and gain some significant 'surface' and regard.

Yes, it involves a deal more hard work and maybe some re-adjustment of ingrained attitudes, especially among old artists. In return, you regain control of your career and you get to keep most of what it earns for you (instead of ceding 30 to 60 per cent in commissions – and that's before the gallery bills you further expenses). You also have direct contact with your collectors, people who are so committed to your art that they're willing to pay for it, instead of being cordoned off from them by an intermediary. If artists think this is beneath them, that it somehow devalues their art, they're fucked.

The art world is in the process of radical change. The old systems are doomed, sinking. Those artists who still cling to them risk being dragged under.

7. Forgetting the art world gatekeepers for a moment, do you think there's any danger that if an artist is too visible and accessible on social media, that we could lose some of their magical aura surrounding The Artist? Or is that a good thing?

Too much information? Maybe. But then that's the 'art' in using them, the difference between those who are successful at it and those who aren't. It's a matter of proportion, of balance.

I do subscribe to the idea that there is not much to be gained by cloistering oneself. Distributing as much useful information as possible about one's work can only enhance the experience of those who are taken by it. I make my study images – sketches, collages and Polaroid photographs – available to view on web site and blog and I write frankly about the imaginative or technical struggles I confront as I try to create a work. I also write about some of the stuff I do to relieve the stress of it [laughs]. My occasional confessions about my, um, eclectic sex life is probably way too much information.

As for the 'magical aura surrounding The Artist', this is a stale residue of 19th century Romanticism and the sooner we dispose of it the better. I do believe creative people have an elevated role in conemporary society – even the most primitive need their shamans – but I think there are some very urgent, pragmatic but revolutionary opportunities we should seize and the Romantic construct is entirely inappropriate to them.

8. Do you have a typical working day? Are routines or rituals part of your creative process?

My days are marked by what most would probably think of as dull routine. I get up early. I work late, often on several pieces at the same time. Two days a week are devoted to sales, marketing and general admin'. I update my blog every afternoon and tweet for an hour or so every morning and evening. I have one day off a week, during which I read, watch TV, go out for lunch or take long walks on the beach. I do this week in, week out, regardless of mood, health or God help me, inspiration.

My holidays are the periods in which I travel interstate or abroad to an exhibition of my work. I usually spend a couple of weeks wherever I'm showing, starting from a week or so before opening night. Of course, it's work – I do a lot of PR (which always includes informal get-togethers with bloggers and editors of online 'zines) as well as meet-and-greets with collectors, students, and others – but change is as good as a rest. I'd get bored fast just lying by a pool sipping drinks with umbrellas and fruit.

The truth is, I'm dug in for what I see as a long, arduous campaign that has not one but a whole series of creative and personal objectives. To take a holiday in the middle of it would feel like retreat rather than r'n'r. Besides, the last thing an artist needs to be is too comfortable or to take anything for granted.

9. What advice would you offer to someone setting out on a creative career, who is hesitating between (a) going the traditional route of approaching agents, editors, galleries etc, and (b) striking out on their own, using the web to reach an audience and build their reputation?

Why bother with a) at all? You'd just be investing precious energy and time into a disintegrating paradigm. b) is by far the better choice. However, it isn't just a question of whether to use the web to the exclusion of all other media or opportunities; it's about using the web as a platform on which to build greater flexibility and control over your career along with a more direct, disintermediated relationship with everyone with a potential interest in it.

It doesn't mean avoiding galleries – there are some that recognise the changing environment and are adapting to it – but acquiring enough awareness through your own efforts to negotiate a more equitable relationship with them. It doesn't mean excluding yourself from major art fairs or other venues but rather defining for yourself how they fit into your overall career arc, which, in turn (and most importantly) should be defined by the core of what you're trying to achieve with your work. It does mean working as hard on communication and virtual relationships as you do on the conceptual development of your work.

It isn't easy. But the rewards are significant. So are the freedoms.

Increasingly, I refer to the dictum, Art Is War. It's a war of disparate ideologies and conflicting interests and ambitions. To succeed, you have to have clear objectives and be ready to devote time to planning and executing not only the work but the campaigns to support and win ground for the work (and, of course, the ideas within the work). Expect plenty of hostile opposition and don't rely on your allies. Above all, take no prisoners.

Hazel Dooney is one of Australia's best-known contemporary artists. For more memorable images and outspoken opinions about the art world, visit her website, read her blog and follow her on Twitter.

When you set out to do something remarkable, sooner or later you realise you can't do it all on your own.

You've got a great idea for a new business - but you only have a fraction of the skills, knowledge and contacts required for success. You need top talent, but you can't pay top dollar. So you'll have to make smart use of partnering and outsourcing to make it work.

Or maybe you want to make a difference in your company, but entrenched interests mean you can't win the fight on your own, so you need to find some allies, fast. You've got precious little authority, so you'll need to develop your influencing skills if you're to get the right people on your team.

Or maybe your village is about to be raided by the same bandits who took all your crops last year - and you're just poor farmers, not a warrior among you. You have no money to pay the proud samurai mercenaries who are your only possible salvation. You'll have to somehow get them to risk life and limb for you (their social inferiors) for nothing more than three square meals a day.

This last scenario was faced by the villagers in Akira Kurosawa's movie masterpiece, The Seven Samurai, an adventure tale as profound as it is thrilling, and one of the greatest films ever made. (If you've not seen it but the plot sounds familiar, you may recognise it from the 1960 Western The Magnificent Seven, based on Kurosawa's film.)

I won't spoil the story if you haven't seen it yet, but here are some clues as to how the farmers recruited their team of samurai warriors - and what you can learn from them about persuading people to join your tribe.

1. Don't Hire Mercenaries (Even When You're Hiring Mercenaries)

The villagers have several discouraging experiences when trying to hire samurai as mercenaries. On learning that he is only to be paid in food, one proud warrior exclaims "Preposterous! I can do better than that".

Of course he can. The villagers are faced with a massive problem: they are looking for hired swords, but have no money to pay for them. They need to find mercenaries who are not mercenary-minded.

Their first clue that they may have found such a mercenary comes when they see a crowd of people watching open-mouthed as a samurai shaves off his topknot - the distinctive hairstyle denoting his rank as a member of the warrior class. It's hard for us to grasp what an outrageous thing this was to do in Edo period Japan, where social status was rigid and jealously guarded. It would be like seeing a movie star or Fortune 100 CEO exchanging clothes with a homeless person.

The samurai's name is Kanbei. He is cutting off his hair so that he can disguise himself as a priest, in order to rescue a small child who is being held hostage by a violent criminal. By disregarding his external appearance, he demonstrates that he is driven by nobler motives than money or status.

Takeaway: Look for people who are less interested in extrinsic rewards than intrinsic motivations such as justice, truth, learning, the love of a challenge, or in Kanbei's words "the fun of it". After all, you're not hiring mercenaries - are you?

2. Look for Misfits

If the villagers had relied on typical samurai, they would have had the proverbial snowball's chance in hell. Many samurai would rather have died than suffer the dishonour of losing their topknot - but Kanbei wasn't most samurai. By his actions, he showed that he marched to a different drum.

Each of the samurai recruited by the villagers is marked out as distinctive in some way. Kyuzo is a peerless swordsmen. Heihachi shows disarming honesty when he confesses that when confronted by enemies, he usually runs away. And Kikuchiyo is an archetypal misfit, out of place among both the farmers and samurai alike, his Tourette's-like twitching and barking suggesting a man uncomfortable in his own skin.

Takeaway: Unremarkable people won't help you do remarkable things. Look for the misfits, the outsiders - the ones who provoke laughter, outrage, surprise or awe. Otherwise, how can you hope to do the same?

3. Don't Take No for an Answer

At first, Kanbei says 'no' to the farmers. He also says 'no' to the young samurai Katsushiro when he asks to become Kanbei's pupil. Later, the lone samurai Kyuzo says 'no' when Kanbei asks him to join the team. And the whole group says 'no' to Kikichuyo when he applies to join.

Fortunately for the farmers - and the plot - none of these people take no for an answer. They persist, finding creative ways to show their sincerity and find a 'hook' that will persuade the other party that their interests lie together. This is in a venerable tradition of applicants being refused at the first time of asking, whether would-be disciples of sages or martial arts masters, or volunteers for Project Mayhem in Fight Club, who have to wait on the doorstep for days before they are allowed inside the leaders' house.

Takeaway: Whether applying or recruiting, don't pester people with rude or boring pleas for help. But don't be discouraged if you don't get your target first time. Ask yourself "What would it take to impress this person, to show them I'm serious - and that there's something in it for them to team up with me?".

4. Find Your Leader and the Rest Will Follow

The villagers know they're not much of a draw in themselves - but as soon as they see Kanbei, they realise that if they can get him on board, he will be a magnet for the cause. So it proves - like Katsushiro, the other samurai are inspired by Kanbei and eager to fight alongside him. As Gorobei says, "It sounds interesting. I know what the farmers have to suffer. But I'm not accepting because of them. I'm accepting because of you".

Takeaway: Without a leader, how will you find followers? Seth Godin tells us leaders don't lead because they have charisma - they have charisma because they lead. So what's stopping you?

5. Test Them

Kanbei adopts an unusual approach to recruitment interviews: he stations Katsushiro behind the doorway with a wooden stick in his hands. As the candidates cross the threshold, Katsushiro attacks them with the stick. Kanbei's reasoning is that any samurai worth his salt will be wise to the trick and defend himself. The most impressive performance is from Gorobei, who gets within ten feet of the doorway, stops short and shakes his head: "Jokers", he says, and won't go near the trap.

Apparently Thomas Edison was also fond of setting traps for candidates to join his team of inventors. He would take the unsuspecting applicant out to lunch - if he or she put salt or pepper on the soup before tasting it, they didn't get the job. Edison argued that no-one with so many preconceptions would make a good inventor.

Takeaway: Maybe you can set candidates a trap or a formal test. Or invite them to work together on a live project, to see how they perform in under real pressure.

6. Diversity = Creativity

Cookie cutter teams are great for cookie cutter assignments. But if you want to do something creative and distinctive - say, fight off a group of ruthless bandits - you're better off with a motley crew.

There's a lot of research on teamwork demonstrating that diversity = creativity. Diversity can mean a mixture of of races, ages, sexes, able-bodied and disabled; it can also mean diverse skills, experience, knowledge and personalities, which are present in abundance in the group of samurai:

• The Leader - Kanbei Has the charisma and vision necessary to unite the samurai and villagers behind a common aim, and the willpower and cunning to lead them through the toughest fight.
• The Strategist - Gorobei Second-in-command, he creates a defensive plan that allows seven samurai and assorted villagers to mount a credible defence against a large group of bandits.
• The Master Technician - Kyuzo A master swordsman, Kyuzo is not interested in war or the trappings of status - "he only wants to perfect his skill". This skill makes him a formidable opponent, and an indispensable member of the team.
• The Loyal Friend - Shichiroji Shichiroji isn't the greatest or noblest fighter - he admits that he escaped from his last fight by hiding in a ditch while the castle collapsed around him. But he's a survivor - and a good friend of Kanbei. When the pressure's on, loyalty and shared experience can count for a lot.
• The Joker - Heihachi Heihachi cheerfully confesses that he's not much of a fighter, and usually runs away. But Kanbei recruits him all the same, betting that his jokes and good humour will cheer everyone up when they need it most.
• The Novice - Katsushiro The son of a noble family, Katsushiro is too young and inexperienced to be a leader in battle, but his loyalty and enthusiasm contribute to the team spirit. And Kanbei obviously sees it as his duty to take care of Katsushiro and initiate him in the art of war. By doing so, he is planting a seed for the future.
• The Loose Cannon - Kikuchiyo Kikuchiyo is a born troublemaker, always getting into scrapes and provoking others to lose their cool. By allowing him to join the team, Kanbei recognises the value of disruption and chaos in jolting people out of their usual thinking and taking them out of their comfort zone.

7. Find a Common Cause and a Common Enemy

Kanbei finds his cause when he sees the farmers' desperation and their willingness to make the necessary sacrifices to achieve their goal. The bandits helpfully play the role of common enemy.

As the film progresses, tensions emerge within the village, within the group of samurai, and between the villagers and samurai. But they all end up shoulder to shoulder, weapons braced as the bandits come hurtling down the road on their horses.

Takeaway: Nothing unites people like adversity. Find a common enemy. It could be a group of people (like your competitors). Or it could just as easily be another kind of threat, such as swine flu, the recession or global warming.

Over to You

Have you ever had to recruit top talent without paying top dollar? How did you do it?

What team-building principles would you add to the list?

If the bandits were attacking your village, who would you want next to you on the barricades?

About the Author: Mark McGuinness is a poet, creative coach and co-founder of Lateral Action. Subscribe today to get free updates by email or RSS.

Computers are very smart, but they have no imagination, right?

They can only slavishly follow instructions and rules - which means they can't think for themselves and generate original thoughts.

This is why a computer can beat a Grand Master at chess, but it will never compose music to rival Mozart.

It's why Lou's job is under threat from automation, but Jack has a bright future, safe in the knowledge that a computer will never replicate his ability to think creatively.

It's why Asimov was a creator, but Asimo is a mere curiosity.

Or is it?

Consider the findings of an experiment reported in the New York Times, in which humans were pitted against computers to see who could come up with the best ideas for advertisements.

The humans were non-advertising professionals, given a brief and asked to come up with creative ideas for adverts. The computers were programmed with an algorithm for devising advertising ideas and given the same briefs.

Here's a sample of the results:

• COMPUTER IDEA: An Apple computer offers flowers (for advertising Apple Computers' friendliness).
• HUMAN IDEA: An Apple computer placed next to a PC with the claim: "This is the friendliest computer."

---

• COMPUTER IDEA: Two Jeeps communicating in sign language (for advertising a silent car engine).
• HUMAN IDEA: A car driving alone in the country.

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• COMPUTER IDEA: A domed mosque with tennis ball texture (for World Cup Tennis tournament in Jerusalem).
• HUMAN IDEA: A picture of ancient walls of Jerusalem with a tennis poster on them.

('Route to Creativity: Following Bliss or Dots?' by Natalie Angier)

I think most of us would call that 3 - 0 to the computers.

The research panel agreed - they judged the computer ads to be consistently more original and creative than those devised by the human group.

What is going on here?

Does this mean the beginning of the end for human creative superiority? Not necessarily.

The researchers were Dr. Jacob Goldenberg, Dr. David Mazursky and Dr. Sorin Solomon of Hebrew University in Jerusalem. They weren't actually trying to find out whether computers or humans are more creative - but to mimic the thought patterns of effective human creators. Note that the human group were untrained, with no previous experience of creating adverts. The computers, on the other hand, were programmed using formulas derived from successful adverts.

So the computers had an unfair advantage. It's as if two groups of people were pitted against each other in a game of chess: the first group composed of people who had only ever seen chess matches played on television; the second group given a thorough grounding in the rules of chess.

No prizes for guessing who would win that one.

In fact, when the reseachers repeated the experiment and taught the formulas to the human group, they were able to beat the computers.

So what was in the magic formulas?

Creativity by Numbers?

The researchers were trying to disprove the popular idea that "the most original ideas are born of utter freedom, a shifting of paradigms, a circling of the square, a streaming of consciousness, a squelching of the internal editor". To do this, they programmed their computers using a series of 'thought templates' to limit options and generate ideas according to specific rules.

One of the commonest templates they found is the so-called replacement template.

For example, they considered a Nike ad, in which a group of firemen are standing around in a rescue pose, looking up as though someone was about to jump from a burning building into their net.

In lieu of a net is a giant Nike sneaker, with copy boasting of how the new Nike walking shoes are "very safe places to land."

In this advertisement, the sneaker replaces an object whose most salient characteristic is "cushioning." Indeed, the life net cushions a person from death itself.

('Route to Creativity: Following Bliss or Dots?' by Natalie Angier)

Rules, constraints and formulas. It's hardly the stuff of Romantic imagination, or even the popular idea of thinking outside the box. But as we've seen before on Lateral Action, using constraints and thinking inside the box can be surprisingly liberating.

If you're tempted to dismiss advertising as a fairly menial form of creativity, far removed from the lofty realms of the fine arts, you may be interested to hear of the work of composer and music professor David Cope. His EMI (Experiments in Musical Intelligence) software can create original music in the style of over a hundred different composers, which has even been mistaken for and original Bach. Have a listen to an interview with WNYC (at the foot of this page, or download here) - featuring some breathtaking excerpts of the computer-music - and judge for yourself. You can find more of Cope's EMI's compositions here. Personally I find some of them disturbingly good.

I'm no musical expert, but as a poet and poetry editor I pride myself on my literary judgment. So I was intrigued to come across The Policeman's Beard is Half-Constructed, a collection of poetry and prose written by a computer program called Racter. Some of it's not bad:

Slowly I dream of flying. I observe turnpikes and streets studded with bushes. Coldly my soaring widens my awareness. To guide myself I determinedly start to kill my pleasure during the time that hours and milliseconds pass away. Aid me in this and soaring is formidable, do not and winging is unhinged.

I like to think I wouldn't be fooled by this kind of thing if it landed in my editor's in-tray. On the other hand, I've seen plenty of worse poetry produced by humans.

Critical Thinking - the Critical Difference?

These examples are impressive - but are the computers really being creative?

Maybe the answer lies in the question. As far as I know, no computer would stop to think whether it was really being creative. The question wouldn't enter its central processing unit. It's very human to ask such a question - to desire authenticity and then evaluate the work to see whether it meets the criterion.

"To suspend criticism and think any idea is possible or good may ultimately be destructive to creativity," said Dr. Goldenberg. As we saw last week, critical thinking is central to the creative process. And according to Goldenberg's fellow researcher Dr Mazursky, "Humans can criticize themselves, and computers can't".

The advertising algorithms show it's possible to program a computer to generate whacky ideas - but it took a human panel to judge their effectiveness.

A machine can write poetry or music - but only humans can decide whether the finished work is any good.

It sounds counterintuitive, but perhaps the human creative advantage comes not from our ability to generate unusual ideas, but to use our critical faculty to evaluate them.

I'm not saying computers will never achieve critical discernment on a level with human beings - but training them to do it will be a lot harder than teaching them a few lateral thinking techniques.

What Do You Think?

Do you think computers will ever truly think creatively?

Do you agree that critical thinking is what gives us a creative edge over our digital cousins?

How would you feel if you were moved by a story or a piece of music - only to discover it had been written by a robot?

About the Author: Mark McGuinness is a poet, creative coach and co-founder of Lateral Action. Subscribe today to get free updates by email or RSS.

Some believe that creators need a firm guiding hand to help them create their best work. Others will swear that a nurturing friend will help a creator make the most of their talent.

So which is right? Should the creator go unchallenged or should they be forced, even bullied, in directions that improve their work? Let’s look at a pop band who experienced both extremes and see what we can learn from them.

XTC was an influential British pop rock band based in Swindon that started recording in the late 1970s. They were known for imaginative, clever, snarky and often beautiful songs. At one time they toured with The Police and Talking Heads and even had their songs covered by future stars like R.E.M. However, in 1982, just as they were starting to hit achieve commercial success, they stopped touring. Unless you’re The Beatles, this is a death sentence for any musical act which has relied heavily on live performances to build a following.

XTC’s core members were Dave Gregory, Colin Moulding and the irrepressible Andy Partridge. Partridge was widely regarded as the driving force behind XTC in terms of personality, creative output, and his drive to shape the band according to his own vision. He also forced the band to stop touring due to a combination of exhaustion, unhappiness and stage fright - just when XTC started to consistently sell hundreds of thousands of albums.

Commercial success is not always a good measure of the quality of one’s work. However, it is a common yardstick to measure progress over time and it is much less subjective than album reviews. Commercially, then, XTC began to look like a failure. The next two albums, Mummer and The Big Express, each sold less than 50,000 copies. With poor new record sales and no other revenues, XTC was also heavily in debt.

Enter the Drill Sergeant

Desperate measures were called for. Virgin Records, despite a rocky relationship with the band, agreed to support the band with a decent budget for a new album. They even managed to get a star producer, Todd Rundgren of Utopia, to sign on for the project. This would prove to be a significant milestone in the band’s history… and their greatest challenge to date.

Partridge was used to setting XTC’s direction and creative output, powered by an unwavering faith in his artistic vision. XTC had a habit of hiring good producers but then largely ignoring or overriding their advice. But they had never worked with Todd Rundgren before. He was as strong, determined and controlling as the band members. He insisted on producing the album in his home studio, deciding on the tracks and their running order, the album theme, making some of the musical arrangements, and so on while paying little attention to the band’s wishes.

The recording process was difficult and full of conflict. Rundgren made no attempt to bond with the band. The band members fought amongst themselves. There were disputes with Rundgren even up to the remix stage, when XTC rejected three remixes of the album, but were forced to accept the third when Rundgren left the project. In the end Skylarking was as much a Todd Rundgren production as it was an XTC album, much to Partridge’s chagrin.

So was it worth the pain, the hard work, and the lack of control?

On the surface, it would seem so.

Propelled by strong critical reviews and the college radio success of the song 'Dear God', Skylarking became the band’s biggest record to date. The album sold a quarter of a million units in the US within six months: more sales than their previous three albums combined. In later years, Partridge would later acknowledge that Rundgren helped them make their best album to date.

A More Laid-Back Approach

But the next album, Oranges and Lemons, was a completely different story. Paul Fox was hired to produce it. Partridge would refer to Fox as one of the most caring and nurturing producers he’d ever worked with. Fox was also one of the least experienced producers that XTC worked with: the album was his first big project. Moreover, the relative success of Skylarking helped the band to regain some clout with their record company. This album would stay closer to XTC’s artistic vision, predictably dominated by Partridge’s ideas.

And how did this project work out? Oranges and Lemons was bigger, louder, more intricate, and more colourful than its predecessor. In the first six months after its release, Oranges and Lemons sold twice the number of albums as Skylarking, yielding XTC’s new biggest album ever. Its commercial success was matched with respectable critical acclaim.

What Made the Difference?

How can we explain the difference between the two albums? In a situation with a producer who did little to nurture them, XTC put out their most successful album ever. But, when placed back into a situation with greater creative control and a more positive producing experience, their follow up album was arguably twice as successful as its predecessor. How can we explain this?

1. Improved confidence, songwriting skill and musicianship: musicians continue to learn and grow with each project they undertake. Partridge has said that despite the friction with Rundgren, he was quite impressed by some of Rundgren’s musical ideas and arrangements. Between that experience and other natural growth, XTC would naturally become better musicians and writers. A number of the songs on Oranges and Lemons were among the better songs that the band ever recorded.
2. The natural boost following the success of Skylarking – the success of the album increased XTC’s US following, particularly on college campuses. New fans would naturally be interested in the next XTC release.
3. A more relaxed working environment - relations between Partridge, Moulding, and Gregory were better during the recording of Oranges and Lemons than on Skylarking. The reduced tension between the band members likely made for a more productive environment.
4. Personal touch and handling – the contrast between Rundgren and Fox: some people work better in conflict situations, other people need more support and a gentle touch. It could be that XTC, or at least Andy Partridge, just naturally worked better with a producer like Fox.
5. The impact of 'Dear God' – Skylarking’s sales figures hide a story about how the album really did. We’ll never know for sure, but there’s a good chance that Skylarking would have sunk like a stone without the success of 'Dear God' on the US college radio circuit. After its initial release, Skylarking peaked at Number 90 on the album charts and soon began losing ground. However, several thousand copies of 'Dear God' were sent to American radio stations… as the B side of the first single! In fact, 'Dear God' wasn’t on the original release of Skylarking! Somehow, American DJs decided that 'Dear God' was better than 'Grass', the single’s A side, and started to play it like mad. The response to the song was so strong that the record company released a different version of Skylarking in the US, including 'Dear God'. It’s highly unlikely that Skylarking’s sales would have risen as high as they did without the inclusion of 'Dear God'. This suggests that while Rundgren may have helped XTC to create a great album, it lacked commercial appeal and it was only the good fortune of 'Dear God’s popularity that sold most of the albums.

What Does This Tell Us about Creative Control?

Does this example suggest to you that the creator works better with a taskmaster or a hand-holder?

Would your feelings change if you were the editor, producer, or coach in this situation instead of being the creator?

Are there other more creative approaches to take your innovative ideas to fruition?

Note: the author is indebted to Chris Twomey’s excellent biography of XTC, Chalkhills and Children, for providing the source material for this article. For an ongoing fount of information about XTC, visit Chalkhills.org.

About the Author: Mark Dykeman is an IT professional, blogger, and writer based in New Brunswick, CANADA. Mark writes at Broadcasting Brain and other fine blogs. You can also find him on Twitter at @markdykeman.