This is why running is so addictive: physical fitness aside, it’s the mental battles of self-discovery that keep us coming back for more, pushing our limits further than we knew we could.

The old way: alls and nothings

I’ve always been naturally lazy. In school I pushed the limits of handing work in late (my record: 13 months) and I crammed for exams the night before. In my working life this has also been my biggest challenge. Big projects invariably see me plumb the depths of procrastination before pulling an all-nighter or two as the deadline stomps closer.

I’m right in the middle of my busiest two months since I started this business. It’s exciting stuff, but there’s no margin for error. Sloth beckons to one side; on the other lurks the urge to sit up all night and plough through the to-do list. The former is plainly wrong, and the latter, while tempting, means I’ll lose too much productive time recovering from my exertions.

A better way: comfortably hard

One of the first, and toughest, lessons I learned from running was to slow down, to pace myself. At full speed I couldn’t last more than a minute or two, and it took a full five minutes to catch my breath again. Stiffness and fatigue lasted well into the next day, hampering my efforts to maintain a good fitness schedule.

As I grew in fitness I learned to run at around 70–80% of my maximum capacity. Dropping the pace to ‘comfortably hard’ made all the difference. Not only was I able to complete much longer runs without walking breaks, but I could get up the next morning and do it all again.

Working like running

I realised last week this approach has begun to creep into my workflow. I’m tending away from the long nights and chugging happily along during regular waking hours. At this comfortably hard rate I can get through the workload for the day and get up the next day fresh enough to keep going.

Bear with my hubris, but I think I’m onto something: we weren’t made to run at 100% effort. That’s our emergency reserve; our secret weapon. We’ll bring it out on race day, rely on it to outrun unruly canines, let it pull us through a big launch. But for maximum efficiency we have to pull back to 80%. That’s what’ll get us from the starting line within sight of the finish, from brief to deadline, only to do it again as many times as we have to.

Measured progress

Between frequent interruptions and the regular afternoon slump, it’s hard to push through a full day’s work. I recently happened upon the Pomodoro technique for time management. Silly name aside, it’s easy to understand, easier to implement and is proving surprisingly effective in helping me manage both concentration and energy levels.

The Pomodoro technique emphasises simple consistency — in timekeeping, in focus, and in brief regular breaks. It’s reminiscent of the disciplined pacing that running demands. The enforced breaks help me catch my breath in time to tackle the next chunk of work and work comfortably hard throughout the day. There’s a sense of progress too, that comes with noting the number of Pomodoros (or 25-minute units of work-time) completed in a day, just as I’ll memorise my kilometre splits on a run.

Things are building up to a final sprint in two weeks’ time. I’ve been pushing through the days and weeks, checking off tasks and getting things done, but four big deadlines in the same week mean I’ll have to fire up the 100% secret weapon. But without puffing along at 80% for the past six weeks that final push would have already been uncomfortably impossible.

I’ve been working with Acme Boxes most of this year. Their work is good, if not stellar, prices reasonable and service prompt and friendly. Lately however, I’ve been a little disappointed. Sloppy mistakes have crept into their work, replies take longer than they should, and their communication has taken on a terse tone and is less helpful than it used to be.

This all seems to have coincided with their launching a new product line for a different market, and its subsequent success. They tweet about a New! Improved! strategy and show it off in blog posts: the focus is now on selling Readymade Boxes and abandoning bespoke client work as soon as viably possible. Clearly we clients are merely a necessary evil to this company.

To be fair, Acme Boxes’ service levels haven’t dropped as severely as I first thought. Their stated aim of taking on client projects when they need the money has simply tainted my perception of their work. Every interaction with them has me wondering, ‘Do they really want to do this? Am I just wasting their time?’. There’s a good chance the negativity is all in my head. But that’s their problem, not mine.

As a client, I want my suppliers to be excited about my projects. I want to know they’ll take a second look at the details and make sure everything’s right. I want them to meet the brief’s requirements. I want to know they care just enough to do the job right.

If I’m only holding back their plans for world domination I can’t be certain they do care enough. World domination is surely more important than my modest Box to Put Things In. And who am I to get in the way of global conquest? Next time I may seek out a box-maker who is content to build the best possible boxes, to specification, making sure they comfortably fit my Things to Put In, even with the lid on.

The funny thing is, when I take my boxing needs elsewhere, Acme Boxes will have to endure other pesky clients just a little longer while waiting for the big Readymade Box pay-day. And those clients may well be peskier and less pleasant than I am.

The next month the debate re-emerges, hostilities are renewed, rants and rebuttals reloaded and flung, with cross-references and back-links to the last battle, just in case the other side forgot what was said then. And another iteration passes without the changing of minds.

The debate in question is the spec work one: should designers (or any other creative professional) produce speculative work or participate in unpaid pitches and design contests, without any guarantee of payment for their time and effort? Should we submit ourselves to being crowdsourced?

I won’t rehash the actual arguments here. Others have done a much better job of it than I could.

If you need catching up, NO!SPEC has a wealth of resources. This interview with SpecWatch on Webdesigner Depot is enlightening, while Eric Karjaluoto has discussed, rather eloquently, a recent case involving Tim Ferriss. Michael Bierut, less recently but equally eloquently, covered the topic at Design Observer. This last one especially is worth a read for its comments from some of the industry’s heavyweights.

There are enough valid reasons for both clients and designers to oppose spec work, amongst them legal risks, economic sense and ethical concerns. Frankly it’s surprising any of us could countenance sullying ourselves with spec.

Nevertheless there are also enough unscrupulous, ignorant or indifferent clients and (loosely defined) designers out there happily engaging in spec work to ensure the argument can’t – wont – be won.

How I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb

It’s clear spec work isn’t going away. If anything it’s growing in prominence and gaining acceptance in the mainstream, helped by its association (and confusion) with the much-hyped Internet phenomenon of crowdsourcing, and the related culture of ‘Free-conomics’.

As designers, woe-is-me-ing and pox-on-you-ing aren’t doing us any good. We’re better served acknowledging (though not legitimising) spec work and learning to live with it.

Know the enemy

The easiest way to avoid getting burnt is to not play with matches. A smarter way is to know how to use the matches. Educate yourself about spec and understand the risks. If they outweigh the potential benefits, keep away.

There will be times when the reward is high enough and the effort is small enough to be worth your while. Consider all the factors carefully, ethical as well as economic. If you’re satisfied that your participation in a design contest won’t harm you or your fellow designers, spec away.

Let it be

Accept that spec work is now part of the design ecosystem. Cheap and nasty designers have always attracted a similar calibre of client. You don’t want or need to compete with the cheap-and-nasties, nor work for them. Let the Crowdsprings and 99Designs of the world be matchmakers for the bottom-feeders while you get on with your job of being remarkable at your job.

Show why you’re a better option for a more discerning client. You know how to think strategically rather than chase trends blindly. You offer a more refined result, better suited to the client’s market. You can be relied upon to deliver professional, honest work.
It’s all part of what you’ve always had to do to market your services: educate your clients. Which leads us rather conveniently to my last point…

Educate, but don’t preach

Don’t get me wrong. When I say above that we should learn to live with spec I’m not advocating ignoring the problem. It is a real problem that poses real risks to designers and clients alike.

A lot of spec work, especially in its most insidious forms, happens only because of ignorance. Clients don’t realise they’re wrong to expect free work or don’t understand the real cost of that free work. Likewise designers are unaware of the risks they face.

The onus is on those of us who know better to give the right advice to those who don’t. When interacting with fellow designers, especially those younger and less experienced than we are, we have a responsibility to educate them about the implications of getting involved in spec work. It’s as simple as pointing them in the direction of NO!SPEC or SpecWatch. If they persist regardless, good luck to them.

So too for potential clients. It’s in their interest (and ours) to ensure they understand the differences between spec work and hiring a professional designer. But if they still choose the wisdom of the crowd, they must live with what it serves up.

It’s important to present the facts without getting too excited. Clients don’t want to hear about third world teenagers whoring themselves with pirated software. That’s our problem, not theirs.

Spec is here. It’s taken its place, unwelcome and uninvited, in our industry, and there’s little we can do to get rid of it. If we can move past that and get on with our jobs we’ll be able to focus our energy on more productive pursuits and happier clients. To me, that trumps any rant or rebuttal.

Postscript

The upheaval that is the Internet has hastened the departure of outmoded ways of thinking as quickly as it’s paved the way for new ones. One site that’s joined the crowdsourcing fray with a welcome freshness is Idea Bounty. They appear to have done their homework and tweaked the variables in the risk/reward equation enough to create a far happier, more successful environment for both clients and creatives. Their differentiation between ideas and actual work is important too, but I’ll leave that for another post.

There is nothing more frightening than nothing. Try imagine nothing. You can’t. The nothingness you imagine is still a ‘-ness’; a thing. We just aren’t adequately equipped to comprehend nothing.

That’s why the most difficult step in any creative effort is often the first. Faced with a blank canvas, an open brief, a new document, my mind doesn’t know where to begin. The sheer blankness of it all is overwhelming, and without direction, I’m immobilised.

Virgin Moleskine Blank-fright

A little over two years ago, around the time I started out working on my own, I decided that if I were to be taken seriously as an Independent Creative, it behooved me make time to sketch daily. Making the time was the easy part. On Day 1 of my new mission I sat down at my favourite coffee shop, pulled out my trusty mechanical pencil and marvelled at my shiny new 9 × 14″ Moleskine sketchbook. Inside the black faux-leather elastic-bound cover were 240 pristine white pages just waiting to be filled with works of art.

240. Blank. Pages. What to fill them with? What could I draw? I began with the mohawked gentleman seated at the table to my right. The couple at the table to my left. My fist. My receipt. Competent sketches, but nothing of the sort one sees showcased on Flickr or in hard-cover design books. Inspiration was notably absent. I ended my first session there. Later efforts were no easier, and became increasingly sporadic. It took me a year to fill the first 25 pages of that sketchbook. I’m not the only one grappling with blank-fright. Web designer Rob Hawkes confesses to a similar problem on Grace Smith’s blog:

I remember the first time I got a Moleskine I didn’t draw anything on the first page for fear of ruining the notebook. After a while that fear of not being worthy of the off-white pages subsides and you start to enjoy using it as a functional piece of idea-gathering equipment.

Like Hawkes, since my first experience it’s become easier for me, more natural. Today I am halfway through my sketchbook, industriously populating its pages with notes, sketches, ideas and doodles. From time to time I indulge in a little reminiscing and flip through the Moleskine, revisiting my old scribblings, wincing a little at some. But what always stands out to me is how long it took to really get started. It was tough, and the start of every new endeavour is equally tough.

A very good place to begin

However, over time I’ve stumbled upon several tactics that help me get over the blankness and get moving a little quicker and less painfully.

Act. Now.

It’s the vast openness of a blank canvas that makes it so intimidating. Just take the first step, however clumsy. You’ll right yourself on the second and third, and by then the canvas is blank no more: you’ll have something to adjust, adapt and move forward. But dwelling on the blankness simply makes it more daunting. Joel Bradbury, also featured in Grace Smith’s aforementioned post, makes this even easier for himself by starting his sketchbooks “about a third of the way in, seems to help get over the crippling fear that the first page in a brand new book brings with it.”

Make the box

If I can just get myself moving I can speed along, but without direction I won’t get very far. The trick here is to give yourself direction by creating artificial constraints. They can be arbitrary, but they’ll fool your mind into thinking it doesn’t have to create something from nothing. A mind that has something to work with is a happy mind.

Take it easy

I have been known to over-analyse and plan ad nauseam, looking for the perfect start. It doesn’t exist. Don’t be precious about what goes onto the page. Focus on filling the page rather than doing so perfectly. You’re allowing quantity to trump quality, but the trick is that the quality needs, is born from, the quantity. Photographers are really good at this. They’ll take hundreds of shots in a shoot, all for the sake of the dozen gems that will emerge. I’ve also discovered recently that the permanence of ink allows me to doodle much more freely and confidently than with a pencil, when the possibility of erasing any misstep makes me think twice – once too many – about every stroke. The result is a fuller, better-fed sketchbook that rewards me more often.

These tips need not apply only to sketching specifically. I’ve adapted them in various forms to help me get over my too-frequent bouts of avoidance-procrastination. It’s become clear to me that the obstacles at the start of a task are usually either imagined or not yet relevant. It all really comes down to ignoring those obstacles and getting on with things. Even if the outcome is not what I had anticipated, it is invariably something. Which is better than nothing.

This is long overdue. I first happened upon the world of the blog in early 2005. Amazed at the glut of content it offered, I lapped up as much as I could handle. After some time I began to fancy myself a blog of my own. I’d imagine the wise observations and measured rants that would grace the site, the lively debate that would ensue and the readers I’d enlighten. It would be inspirational.

I indulged in this for four years. Four years of reading, observing and learning. Imagining, dreaming and what-iffing. It’s now time for me to spend fewer hours consuming and more time contributing. Less planning, more doing. In that spirit, I give you my Blog Post The First.

It goes against my grain to put something out into the world that is not perfect. There is so much I still want to do with this site’s design and functionality, but I realised the other day that this post has been in draft mode for over five months. So, inspired by a nudge in the right direction, I’ve decided to embrace the medium’s imperfect and evolving nature, and just do. Content is sparse for now, but if all goes well the site will eventually grow to a great hulking repository of design opinion and conversation. Failing that, a nice portfolio and a collection of my thoughts.

My intention with this blog is to discuss issues around design, its value and its relevance to marketing. I’ll favour topics of a strategic and philosophical nature over how-to’s show-and-tells, though these may slip through sometimes. I’ll also share my working process and the goings-on in my studio, as well as other thoughtlets and proto-ideas that float to my mind’s surface.

Posting will probably be a little sporadic for the first few months as I find my feet here. Whatever frequency and depth I do settle on, I aim for quality over quantity. If I have nothing of interest to post I promise not to resort to posts of the “20 Totally Unbelievably Mind-blowing Awesome Pictures of Random Stuff” sort.

A note of the boring-but-kind-of-necessary sort: I’m not quite happy yet with the site’s design. The typography needs refinement, the colours need a lot of work, the template is limited. But it’ll do for now. I am still making adjustments, playing around with this div and that widget and I’ll probably be playing with them for a long time yet, just because I can. I like to tinker. At the time of writing, the design needs some hacking for better viewing on certain obsolete-but-popular browsers, and in the next month or two especially, certain elements may look a little odd at times, as I figure them out. But it’s all for the greater good of kreativation.co.za. Please bear with me as I tinker, and let me know if you happen upon any weirdness in your browser.

And now, it starts.