A recent 99 percent article examined the relationship between achievement and a quality of self control called ‘grit’.

The article highlights a number of studies looking at the divide between talent (or intelligence) and the qualities that assist us in unlocking and delivering talent. So, looking at a large number of people, from Einstein to Darwin, right through to West Point graduates, musicians and finance bankers, and exploring what enabled those at the top of their field to unlock their talent, and in some cases, to succeed even where talent isn’t immediately obvious (apparently Darwin never considered himself an intelligence powerhouse).

One of the researches, psychologist Angela Duckworth, isolated those qualities that might serve as a predictor of outstanding talent:

1. The tendency not to abandon tasks from mere changeability. Not seeking something because of novelty. Not “looking for a change.”
2. The tendency not to abandon tasks in the face of obstacles. Perseverance, tenacity, doggedness.

Which Duckworth boils down to the quality of ‘grit’.

People who accomplished great things, [Duckworth] noticed, often combined a passion for a single mission with an unswerving dedication to achieve that mission, whatever the obstacles and however long it might take.

Seems some of… Read more

Some choice words on professionalism, personal development and facing failure from legendary designer Milton Glaser.

From woe to go Gaspar Noe’s (director of Irreversible) new film Enter the Void is a brutal filmic assault.

The title sequence (shown above) is a kind of sober up ‘slap in the face’ before the visually torturous (at times) 161 minute journey through neon soaked Tokyo begins.

The story is told/seen through the disembodied spirit of a deceased drug dealer who watches over his grieving sister, and the unique perspective allows Noe to frequent all sorts of places where cinema rarely dares go, including the inside of an abortion operating room, horrific car accidents and plenty of other traumatic landscapes.

The vision Noe has presented is completely deranged, occasionally awe inspiring, and almost impossible to watch. The frequent use of strobing neon light combined with thumping beats lulls you into an almost hallucinatory viewing experience. Or at least that’s what’s intended; more often than not I had my hand in front of the screen to shield my eyes from the painful blinking lights. If you’re at all susceptible to flickering lights, do not watch this film.

Although an incredibly difficult and confronting film to watch, its construction reminded me a lot of the short… Read more

I’m constantly drawn to writer’s talking about writing. I think it’s got something to do with the elusive ‘art-making’ process and that innate desire humans seem to have for finding the methodology of things (no matter how inapplicable it might be).

If there is some fibonacci sequence for writing, some part of it would likely be found gleaming in each drop of perspiration from great writers like Haruki Murakami. The 99 Percent recently highlighted Murakami’s thoughts on the subject of endurance and focus:

If you concentrate on writing three or four hours a day and feel tired after a week of this, you’re not going to be able to write a long work. What’s needed of the writer of fiction—at least one who hopes to write a novel—is the energy to focus every day for half a year, or a year, or two years.

Murakami, the author of no less than 12 novels, wrote in his memoir What I Talk About When I Talk About Running on the links between learning to run long distance and the rigour required to write a novel:

Most of what I

… Read more

Make no mistake, William Faulkner and I were never 'good friends'.

In fact, by the time I caught wind of Faulkner’s most celebrated work, The Sound and the Fury, the man had been dead almost 50 years.

You could say we didn’t have a lot in common; Faulkner liked horse riding, binge drinking and extra marital affairs. I’ve never even been on a horse, not married, and drinking has never been my strong point. Considering the age gap (82 years), the odds of us ever kindling a bromance were stacked high from the outset.

But had we met, I’d like to think we would have seen eye-to-eye on the subject of memory.

To me, Faulkner was (is?) a writer able to recognise that the past and present aren’t as clearly separated as we’re taught to believe.  In The Sound and the Fury (TSTF), Faulkner collapses the boundary between what’s happening in the present and memories of the past, two concepts of chronology that, via techniques such as flashback and genres like memoir, we’ve come to rely upon being clearly separated.

In TSTF it’s not always evident what’s happening now and what’s a returning memory, which makes for a disorientating journey. And while Faulkner and I might sit across the room from each other nodding knowingly,… Read more

The process of finishing off is my least favourite part of writing.

First drafts are a chore, yes, but mostly balanced by the buzz of creation. Revision too can be enjoyable, particularly the point at which sentences come together and characters start behaving somewhat realistically.

But there comes a point in every story where the feedback received is something along the lines of “almost there”. At this point, 90% of the story is solid, and it becomes a balancing act to tweak the remaining 10%. Unfortunately (and unfairly), this last 10% is likely to be the difference between a good and an amazing story.

Finishing off feels risky to me. At the point of ‘finishing off’ I am the closest I have been to submitting, the prospect of diving back in and following some vague promise of amazement is not an easy decision to make.

Going back and finishing off means ‘darlings’ are about to die. Sentences, once fragile and beautiful, will be hammered out and ingloriously dismembered. A complex surgery soon follows, in which pieces of the whole must somehow be stitched back together.

Many darlings will not survive, and though I know it necessary, the decision to sacrifice a great line for some distant hope of an even greater paragraph,… Read more

Like many authors caught in the rapture of procrastination, the landscape of my writing desk often yields plenty of welcome distractions.

I thought I would be self indulgent for a moment and go through what’s been on my desk this April.

Clockwise from the middle top:

1. Latest editions of The New Yorker, Kill Your Darlings (highlight: The Architect by Sonja Dechian) and Collect (a new $5 mini-mag from Adelaide – very clever, just needs some short fiction to seal the deal).
2. Uppercase Magazine (partner currently doing the Shillington Design Masterclass so lots of inspiring design being left around the house).
3. Kindle – full review still pending (but getting very close)
4. Said partner’s awesome new business card.
5. Searching for some bookish inspiration – Solaris by Stanislaw Lem (did anyone else find this tedious?), The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury (some of his finest tales), Rabbit at Rest by John Updike (not his best, but I seem to be writing a lot of Updike-esque stuff of late)
6. Map of the world – was using it to map out the likely geosynchronous orbit of a satellite I was basing a story on (my tolerance for research is much higher than

… Read more

Everybody else seems to be doing the ‘year in review’ thing, so who am I to buck the trend? Rather than focus on what I read, I thought I might look at what my goals were for this year (writing wise), whether I achieved them, and if I didn’t what I could have done differently.

I am not a huge believer in new year resolutions. Generally I believe that if you plan to do something, then you should start doing it straight away – there’s no real advantage to “starting in the new year”. At any other time, that kind of statement would be considered procrastination.

I do however like to set deadlines, as I find they help to prioritise effort towards a particular activity. A year is a pretty broad deadline I’ll admit, but some goals are supposed to take time.

My goal for 2010 was simple: four pieces (fiction or non-fiction) published.

Result: I managed to get three pieces published, falling just short of the goal.

So what happened?

I had only a vague notion that my goal was achievable, so four was an arbitrary figure (one per quarter). That said, I think the goal was… Read more

There is a quote from George Orwell in his essay Why I Write that sums up how I often feel about writing. It goes something like this:

Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.

I tend to ask myself the question of why I write a lot. I think this is because often the pain/reward tradeoff seems a little off balance. The feeling of writing is often more akin to an infection.

For instance, with the current story I have been working on I have been pawing over a new beginning for the past two months. Part of the problem is that there is so much of the story down, that any further revision feels complicated. There are so many sentences set in place, that moving them around feels risky. I feel like that by adding stuff at the top, I’ll unabalance other sections down below that I have no current issue with.

Revisions, particularly those on the beginning, tend… Read more