The reading from our wedding I remember most clearly is a passage from Kahlil Gibran's beautiful book, The Prophet. We were drawn to it then, and I still am now. The end of the passage offers one of the most beautiful, uplifting, and—at the time—surprising perspectives on marriage.

"And stand together yet not too near together:

   For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

   And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."

From the outside, marriage often seems like a complete merging—becoming one, but perhaps also losing part of yourself in the process. I love that this passage says that two people can and should unite and support each other without lessening each other individually. We retain what makes us ourselves while being stronger together.

The image of the oak and the cypress has stayed with me ever since our wedding day.

The full passage from the Prophet is below:

  You were born together, and together you

  Ay, you shall be together even in the

  But let there be spaces in your togetherness,

  And let the winds of the heavens dance

  Let it rather be a moving sea between

  Fill each other's cup but drink not from

  Give one another of your bread but eat

  Sing and dance together and be joyous,

  Even as the strings of a lute are alone

  For only the hand of Life can contain

  For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

  And the oak tree and the cypress grow

Related Ideas to Grow Not in Each Other's Shadow

The 4 Horsemen of Relationship Apocalypse

Grow not in each other's shadow

Any success takes one in a row. Do one thing well, then another. Once, then once more. Over and over until the end, then it's one in a row again.

— Matthew McConaughey
From the book Greenlights

Big things start small. It's easy to get caught up in trying to do everything at once, but you have to start somewhere. You don't need to complete the whole row today. Every sustained success starts with the first one. Sketchplanations started as one in a row.

After the first few successes, the power of streaks can take over. Oh, and never miss twice.

I created a series of sketches on getting started. Find them at: https://sketchplanations.com/categories/starting

Greenlights is full of fun stories. I highly recommend the audiobook of Greenlights with Matthew McConaughey's full-of-life performance—like no other audiobook I've listened to.

Related Ideas to the One-in-a-Row Principle

One in a Row

This post is sketch 900 of Sketchplanations, according to my numbering. To mark that, I've been reflecting and wanted to share what I've learned from over a decade of this project.

It's my longest post, but I created a version you can listen to, or even watch 🙈, if you prefer. And if you don't want to listen, watch or read a long article, I hope you can just enjoy the sketch of Brenda Ueland's lovely wisdom.

Listen/watch reflections on a decade of Sketchplanations on YouTube

After the first year of one-a-day, I've done one sketch a week, 52 a year, for over a decade without missing. I've tried to stick to James Clear's "Never miss twice" rule by first not missing once.

With a few years of experience in creating and sharing under my belt, I wanted to share some thoughts about this project, about sharing your work, and about creative freedom.

I watched a talk by Jack Conte a few weeks ago. Jack is the founder of Patreon but was first—and still is—a passionate, talented musician full of energy and drive. The whole talk is interesting—he called it the Death of the Follower. But what drove me to create this was some of what he said towards the end, kind of his "advice to creatives."

I want to talk about two things: The why and what of creating, and second, what sort of project a creative project should be.

I've been lucky in so many ways with this project:

It was accidental, so I wasn't staking my future or my ego on it.

It was a side project—until this year—so I wasn't staking my paycheck and whether we could pay the mortgage and support our family on it.

And I stumbled on a simple formula that's given me great permission, licence, and scope to explore everything that interests me.

Without getting too grandiose about it, my conjured up tag line of "explaining the world one sketch at a time" is a huge mission, one that never really ends. But it also allows me to cover whatever aspects of our fascinating world that I want, in the way that I want.

Cartoonists also have a tremendous scope to create, but they usually have to make people laugh. Fortunately for me, I don't have to do that each time. I can cover serious things, or sensitive things, or fun things, or complex things in whichever way I want.

I'm also lucky that my drawings don't have to be good. Sometimes, I look back on older ones and cringe, but usually, I don't cringe at what I'm sharing, only my drawing of it.

Just a year or so into this project, when I complained to a good friend about not being the best artist, he simply replied, "Yes, but it's the content." It really stuck with me, and it's grown on me over time. The drawings may not be as slick as other artists. Still, the content and topics I tackle are hopefully valuable, or at least interesting, in themselves. So people, I think, forgive me when I don't get it quite right and it's a bit cheesy, or my people are a bit janky.

Part of the luck in my formula is that it's become a unique collection in style and approach. The more I've created, the more unique it becomes.

I am regularly asked how I choose and find topics to include. I only recently found the answer that really nails it.

On my website, I've joked, "Sooner or later, everything I know will be on Sketchplanations." And in some ways, that's true—at least for the useful stuff I know.

At first, sketches were a combination of serendipity in what happened to me that was interesting this week and a process of trawling through my experience and memory for the things I've found interesting and helpful over the years. And they were also what I found myself using or thinking about regularly.

Over the years, I've trained myself constantly to be on the lookout for topics. Sometimes I see, or read, or remember something that I instantly know I'll sketch at some point. I add it to my list, and those that I'm excited about and have the clearest view on are those I tackle the next week.

But that doesn't really address the question of what makes it into the list and what doesn't. What ties these together? The answer I found most profoundly hit when I read a wonderfully opinionated book, "If you Want to Write," by Brenda Ueland. Brenda says: 

And what is the purpose of existence… but to discover truth and beauty and…share it with others.

And it was suddenly clear to me. What makes it into the list is when I've found something that to me was a truth, an insight, an aha, a new piece of knowledge, something beautiful or fascinating that I realised. I had to feel I'd discovered something. Sketchplanations has given me the wonderful vehicle to act on the impulse to share it with so many others.

I usually consider myself knowledgeable about most sketches but an expert in few. But like the age-old realisation that the teacher learns more than the students, I can tell you that there's nothing like spending a day or more a week diving into a topic, thinking how to visualise it, spending several hours sketching it and then writing about it to cement them in my own brain. I'm no doubt the one who's benefited the most from this project.

It's not too long in a conversation with me before I might struggle not to interrupt with a "There's a sketch for that."

And this diverse collection of 900 sketches therefore, in many ways, reflects everything I find interesting and helpful or beautiful in the world, and so is a reflection of me. In that sense it's really rather personal.

Which brings me to the second aspect of what I want to share here.

I'm very lucky that many people provide suggestions for sketches they'd like to see. I've worked in design and user experience for many years. Having direct feedback of what your audience would like to see is extremely valuable. I've tackled some of them, but too few.

I find that I'm not a very good judge of sketches that will turn out to be popular—at least in the short run.

I send out new sketches each week in my newsletter. It's funny that even though I send out 10s of 1,000s of emails each month there's relatively little feedback of what people think about each new sketch.

I started posting sketches on social channels many years ago to allow more people to discover them and make it easier for people to share them.

And I post sketches on my website, so that people can find them in the future and get the answers they want when they're searching for something or looking for something to use in their own projects.

Posting on social media is interesting as, with likes, comments, shares and follower numbers I seemed to have much more feedback about whether what I did was interesting to people or not. Certainly as compared to the newsletter where there's no lightweight, low commitment way, save writing me a direct email, to let me know if it was helpful. I love receiving them by the way.

Once you start getting feedback on what seems to be popular however, you have a double-edged sword. For example, what if there's some truth or beauty that I want to share that is unlikely to be popular? Or what if there are things that will be popular that I don't find to be a truth or beauty that speaks to me or makes me want to share it.

If I was a business I think the answer is fairly clear—you create the content that your audience wants to see so people come to your site and buy your wares.

But what if a project reflects you personally? And what if it's an amateur project, created for the love of it rather than the $ of it?

I have tackled some sketches of topics that people asked for and that sometimes people have paid me for. What I found is that very quickly it begins to feel like a job. It's fine to do, but they're not always something that excites me.

For me, who fortunately for so long wasn't depending on it for my primary income, I found it very quickly took the joy out of the task. Why would I use my spare time—and often time from my family—to execute something that I wasn't excited about and didn't find joy in and didn't find a little spark or fire in sharing with others?

Don't get me wrong. Reaching more people with my work is great. I came round to marketing when I kept hearing "Wow, I just discovered your site. I love it!" 7 years after I'd been working on it. These people could have been following from the beginning if I'd just reached them earlier.

That was part of the impetus to create a physical book and hopefully reach a new set of people in a different way. This same feeling also drives me to work on making the website better—as the saying goes: "Business without marketing is like winking at a girl in the dark." What's the point of having good content if people can't find it? It seems a shame.

Well, one way I could reach more people, I think of, as "feeding the machine."

What I should do is find topics that have high search volume, topics that are topical or current, topics that draw a lot of engagement, topics that may be easy to grasp or share with others, and I should and do those. I should check search queries, watch what others are doing, and look for the content I post that creates the most interactions and create more content to match.

Simple messages without nuance or complexity are easy to share and take in and hit repost. But I can't bring myself to do it.

The things I keep wanting to share are my version of what Brenda called the "purpose of existence"—discovering truth and beauty and sharing it with others.

So I've resisted too much of feeding the machine. I'm sure it's cost me. I'm sure there are a million ways I could grow my followers faster, get more subscribers, get more content engagement, exploit new channels, write traffic heavy content. But I don't want to do those if it means I can't share the truths and beauty that I find valuable.

So, at sketch 900, I'm sharing these reflections as the struggles of a creator trying to understand the point and value of their project.

And to say that I plan to keep this project idiosyncratic, unexpected, and personal. Or, in some ways, a reflection of me. This will at least keep it unique.

I know that you won't find it all speaks to you—you're not me after all. But for the times when I do get it right, when you can see the truth or beauty that I'm trying to share, even if it's just you and me who appreciate it, I hope that will keep it worth it.

Jack Conte talks passionately and knowledgeably about the importance of building deep connections with small numbers of true fans. He built Patreon, through which I've benefited so much. And a deep personal thank you to everyone who is now supporting and has supported me in the past. And I've decided I'd rather, slowly, create a deeper, more personal connection with the people, perhaps like you, who have enjoyed my project, by sharing the truth or beauty that I want to share than to feed the machine and create what the machine says is needed.

Selfishly, I hope that this will also keep it interesting for me even if it may not do the rounds of the internet as well.

Thanks everyone who's visited, enjoyed, talked about, listened to the podcast or shared my work over the years. So many of you have been generous in sharing and singing the praises of this little project.

There is of course still so much more to explain about this world. Maybe 900 is a lot of topics sketched—or maybe, I'm just getting started.

Thanks for being part of the journey. See you at 1,000.

If you made it this far, it'd be amazing if you considered helping to get to 1,000 by supporting me at any amount on Patreon 🙏

Discovering Truth and Beauty and Sharing it with others

An often-quoted adage goes: Doing business without marketing is like winking at a girl in the dark. You know what you're doing, but no one else does.

As someone with a background in product development and engineering, I've always cared more about the product than about letting people know that the product exists. But it's an uncomfortable truth that there's no point in having a better product if no one knows about it. More ventures have likely died from not reaching others than from having a lousy solution. This is also why great businesses are built by multi-disciplinary teams—it takes many complementary skills to make a great product succeed. I think the phrase "Build a better mousetrap, and the world will beat a path to your door" is rarely true.

Along these lines, if you can think of others who'd find Sketchplanations helpful or who might like my book Big Ideas Little Pictures, please consider sending on a link or your favourite sketch. After all, business without marketing... ;o)

The quote is usually attributed with "advertising" instead of "marketing" to Steuart Henderson Britt, a marketing professor and psychologist at Northwestern University. But I couldn't find any verifiable source of the quote to him on the internet, and I prefer it with the more generally applicable marketing, so I went with that. If you know of a trustworthy source for the quote, please let me know!

Also see: The rule of 7, the business flywheel

Winking in the dark

Twitter co-founder Biz Stone is fond of saying:

"Timing, perseverance and ten years of trying will eventually make you seem like an overnight success."

Rarely have I heard someone so clearly articulate what it usually takes to do well at something and how commonly we misrepresent the path to success.

Sketching an iceberg in which about 90% of the iceberg is unseen under the surface seemed like an appropriate approach.

Biz Stone explains his story in Things a Little Bird Told Me. 

Also see: the long nose of innovation, survivorship bias, optimism bias, Hofstadter's law, Kitty Hawk moment, starting a company, altruism and ambition

Overnight success

A Pyrrhic victory is one where your own losses or damage make it nearly as costly as defeat.

Perhaps that business rival finally went out of business after you lowered prices so much that you can now barely get by. Maybe you managed to prove you were right at the cost of ruining a relationship. Or it could be that the kids did in fact get in the car and go out on that blasted walk only for everyone to have a miserable time, angry at each other for the rest of the day.

Or maybe, as King Pyrrhus of Epirus found in 279 BCE, you won several battles against the Romans while losing so many of your best warriors as to make you wonder at the worth of the whole campaign.

Pyrrhic victory

So does the willingness to seek out data. If none of us has data to share then we can't help but bring our own personal biases, preferences, and opinions to the table — anyone might be right, but who's to say (often the HiPPO: the Highest Paid Person's Opinion)? It's why I love this quote from W. Edwards Deming:

"Without data you're just another person with an opinion."

Perhaps you've been in a car with several backseat drivers who all seem to know better than the driver. Or maybe you've been part of a review for a new initiative where everyone has their own views of what will make it succeed. Or a discussion on what's driving some unexpected behaviour. We can't know who's right until we bring some data. It's amazing how even a little data can avoid an "I'm right, you're wrong" situation.

And where there isn't data, framing a discussion on how to quickly gather data or experiment to find out which approach may be best so often focuses a team, removing ego and opinions.

After all, as Jim Barksdale, former Netscape CEO said:

"If we have data, let's look at data. If all we have are opinions, let's go with mine."

Without data you're just another person with an opinion

Anyone who's tried their hand at research, built some software, or even run a kid's birthday party may relate to this idea: In theory, practice is the same as theory, but not in practice.

It's a lovely encapsulation of similar ideas to "All models are wrong, but some are useful" or "No plan survives contact with the enemy." Or one of my favourites, Hofstadter's Law: "It always takes longer than you expect, even when you account for Hofstadter's Law."

The quote, in varying forms, has been attributed to a number of people — QI suggests that Benjamin Brewster should get the credit from 1882.

In theory, practice is the same as theory, but not in practice

I've read that Steve Jobs used to tell a story to new VPs about a janitor and a CEO. If you were the janitor and were asked to clean an office, it's reasonable to have not cleaned it if you found the door was locked and you didn't have the key. However, somewhere between the janitor and the CEO, the reasons or excuses for why something happened or couldn't be done stop mattering. It probably isn't your fault that the system went down, or that you didn't have access to the office, but as a leader it's your responsibility to make things happen and mistakes are now your responsibility too.

The sketch is not meant to downplay the role or attitude of janitors in any way or say that this is the difference between janitors and CEOs. Here's more on how Steve explains it.

The story is a nice example of the accountability ladder.

I learned this from the excellent Julie Zhou.

Reasons stop mattering

Whenever I find that I've accidentally written 'proceed' instead of 'carry on', 'affirmative' instead of 'yes', or 'convene' instead of 'meet' I try to remember Churchill's wise words:

"Short words are best and old words when short are the best of all."

Don't be like owl in Winnie the Pooh. Short, old words give power and clarity.

As an illustration of the remarkable power of Churchill's writing, I highly recommend the quick read of We Will All Go Down Fighting to the End, an eye-opening and stirring short collection of Winston Churchill's war speeches.

Short words are best

Supposedly when asked how long it took to prepare his speeches, President Woodrow Wilson said:

“That depends on the length of the speech. If it is a 10-minute speech, it takes me all of two weeks to prepare it. If it is a half hour speech, it takes me a week. If I can talk as long as I want to, it requires no preparation at all. I am ready now.”

It's rather like the saying: "If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter."

It's easy to think that a longer document, report, or talk would be more difficult. So it's a nice thought that it can actually be harder to do something short and well than it is do to something long. It's rather like Edward De Bono's observation that things get more complex before they get simple.

If you want to make something simple, you have to do the work.

QI has good articles on shorter speeches and letters.

Short speeches

Don't ask the barber if you need a haircut — a simple reminder that asking someone with a vested interest in the outcome isn't likely to give you an impartial answer.

Except that while we might reasonably make decisions about our hair with few consequences to anyone but ourselves, when we work with professionals they may well see or hear what we don't. It might be that asking a professional to review what you're doing is exactly what you need to tell you what you didn't and couldn't think to ask.

The phrase has been famously shared by Warren Buffet though it appears in several similar earlier forms.

Don't ask the barber if you need a haircut

There's a lot of wisdom in this thought from Joseph Campbell: The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.

After all, if it was the easy path, if it wasn't the place we hadn't yet looked because we were afraid, we would have already done it. Perhaps tackling what you're avoiding most is what you most need to do.

The cave you fear to enter

"This negative is the score. The print is the performance."

This memorable analogy is from Ansel Adams, one of the foremost American photographers.

From the negative captured by the camera, Ansel would experiment with cropping, dodging and burning (lightening and darkening) to create the final print.

We have a large print of moon and half dome in our hallway. It reminds me that what the camera captured directly isn't the final piece. You still have the performance to perform.

The analogy works beyond photographs. A recipe, a script, a joke, or a business idea all still need the right performance.

Prints and performances

Bosses push information up to authority. Leaders push authority down to information.

This little gem is from ex-submarine captain turned leadership guru, David Marquet. Pretty much any talk by him is great, but here's an entertaining and thought-provoking talk by him I enjoyed.

See his book Turn the ship around!: A True Story of Turning Followers Into Leaders

Push authority to information

Starting a company isn't easy. Reid Hoffman, cofounder of LinkedIn, says:

"Starting a company is like jumping off a cliff and assembling the plane on the way down."

But just because it's hard doesn't mean you shouldn't do it. I remember receiving some advice that you shouldn't wait around for the right time to have children as you'll never find it. I suspect starting a company is similar. It reminds me of this lovely quote I have taken to heart from Hugh Laurie:

"It's a terrible thing, I think, in life to wait until you're ready. I have this feeling now that actually no one is ever ready to do anything. There is almost no such thing as ready. There is only now. And you may as well do it now. Generally speaking, now is as good a time as any."

As far as I could tell, unconsciously or separately, Reid's version relates to Ray Bradbury's earlier advice of jumping off a cliff and building your wings on the way down.

This quote, modified to a lovely two-page spread, features with a number of others in my book Big Ideas Little Pictures.

Starting a company

Sir Arthur Eddington, an English astrophysicist, told a short story involving a scientist studying fish by pulling them up with nets. After checking all the fish hauled up, the scientist concludes that there is a minimum size of fish in the sea. But the fish seen were determined by the size of the holes in the net, the smaller ones having slipped through, unmeasurable. The instrument you use affects what you see. Or as Richard Hamming puts it: "You get what you measure."

This analogy provides a nice concrete example of a phenomena that affects us routinely in more subtle ways. What and how we choose to measure affects the conclusions we draw. So, a website may easily measure sales and bounce rate for its pages, while things like trust, authority or satisfaction, which may be more significant longer-term metrics, go unmeasured.

"There is always a tendency to grab the hard, firm measurement, though it may be quite irrelevant as compared to the soft one which in the long run may be much more relevant to your goals. Accuracy of measurement tends to get confused with relevance of measurement, much more than most people believe. That a measurement is accurate, reproducible, and easy to make does not mean it should be done, instead a much poorer one which is more closely related to your goals may be much more preferable. For example, in school it is easy to measure training and hard to measure education, and hence you tend to see on final exams an emphasis on the training part and a great neglect of the education part."

What gets measured gets better (an earlier take on this)

Quote from Chapter 29, You get what you measure, of Richard Hamming's, The Art of Doing Science and Engineering: Learning to Learn.

If you happen to be in the business of doing research or science Richard Hamming's Bell Lab's talk, You and Your Research (pdf), is an excellent read.

You get what you measure

It all matters. Be it one person, one bird, or one tree. We are all connected. As John Muir wrote in My First Summer in the Sierra:

"As soon as we take one thing by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe."

The sketch is Heart Lake in his beloved Sierra Nevada.

Hitched to everything else in the universe

Some simple wisdom from Kurt Vonnegut: notice when you’re happy.

“My uncle Alex Vonnegut, a Harvard-educated life insurance salesman who lived at 5033 North Pennsylvania Street, taught me something very important.

He said that when things were really going well, we should be sure to NOTICE it. He was talking about simple occasions, not great victories: maybe drinking lemonade on a hot afternoon in the shade, or smelling the aroma of a nearby bakery; or fishing, and not caring if we catch anything or not, or hearing somebody all alone playing a piano really well in the house next door.

Uncle Alex urged me to say this out loud during such epiphanies: “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is”

"So I do the same now, and so do my kids and grandkids. And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”

Notice when you're happy: If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is

“Just remember that finishing lines are good, but their most important role is to get you over the start line in the first place.”

This little piece of wisdom is from Stevie Smith (not the poet). Stevie embarked on a human-powered journey around the world—Expedition 360—and reached Hawaii under pedal power*. I learned about him from a little chapter in One Man and His Bike by Mike Carter. As soon as I finished the chapter where he speaks with Stevie I immediately reread it.

Mike also shared this deeper and more poetic version of the same insight:

“Happiness is the acceptance of the journey as it is now, not the promise of the other shore”

*Stevie’s companion Jason Lewis completed the circumnavigation of the world 13 years after they began.

You can also listen to us discuss this sketch with the brilliant Brendan Leonard in the Sketchplanations podcast episode on Finishing lines

Finishing lines

So often do we talk about speaking with passion, much rarer do we think about listening with passion.

Conversations are two-sided, they only work if one person is listening while the other is talking. Unfortunately, we tend to have a greater innate interest in making sure others know the smart, interesting and important things that we think than truly absorbing what someone else has to say. So I love this quote from Harriet Lerner:

Listen with the same passion with which we want to be heard.

If we all could do this routinely with our colleagues, friends, family, children, and partners I’d guess it’d make quite a difference.

I learned about it from Brené Brown’s Dare to Lead.

Listen with passion

Clayton Christensen, in his book and article ’How will you measure your life?’, discusses what he learned about how to live a life of integrity. Among other things he says:

It’s easier to hold to your principles 100% of the time than it is to hold to them 98% of the time. If you give in to “just this once,”…you’ll regret where you end up. You’ve got to define for yourself what you stand for and draw the line in a safe place.

I think this is relevant, both in the small things — whether to work out today when it’s raining —  and in the larger decisions which help us be proud of our lives.

The dangers of just this once

There don’t seem to perfect definitions for either recessions or depressions. A recession is commonly defined as two successive declining quarters of GDP, but it’s not gospel. And a depression is a kind of prolonged recession for 3–4 years. So I liked Harry Truman’s clarifying explanation — US president from 1945–1953:

A recession is when your neighbour loses his job.  A depression is when you lose yours.  —Harry Truman 

Recession vs depression

Metcalfe's Law is: "The value of a telecommunications network is proportional to the square of the number of users of the system."
— Robert Metcalfe

This law explains a little of the remarkable power of a growing network. Each time you add a user or node to the network, the number of connections increases in proportion to the square of the number of users. So, in this simple example where every new node gets a connection to each of the existing nodes, you can see that, say, adding a single node to an 11-node network creates 11 new connections.

It’s a simplified example because in most networks, the value is not directly proportional to the number of connections as some connections or users may be more valuable than others, and usually, adding a new user wouldn’t create a connection to all existing users — say if it was in a different country, or people spoke a different language or just cared about different things. But nevertheless, you can see how a network quickly becomes valuable as users join.

So, Facebook has (in Jan 2018) about 2 billion users…

Metcalfe was talking about telecommunications networks, and the basic proposition has been modified since it was formulated, including by Metcalfe himself. Just because something is called a law doesn’t mean it is one.

Metcalfe’s Law

Simon Sinek’s simple idea to start with why. To get a better feel, watch his 18min TED talk: How great leaders inspire action. I found his concrete example of “It was the ‘I have a dream’ speech, not the ‘I have a plan’ speech,” helps keep in mind the power of starting with why and painting a vision in order to inspire and lead. Now, if you have a vision, a strategy and a plan, well, then you’re in business.

People don’t buy what you do, they buy why you do it.
— Simon Sinek

Simon’s has parallels with another I like:

Products aren’t just things that you buy, they’re things that you buy into.

Quote sketches