The other night, I made a good idea jar. It was a re-purposing, really. I took some cinnamon sticks out of an Ikea spice jar, covered the front of the jar in orange tape, and inscribed, with my best small-caps-permanent-marker-handwriting: GOOD IDEA JAR. And then, on small slips of paper, I wrote out over a dozen good ideas I had rattling around in my head. I folded up each slip, stuck it in the jar, screwed on the cap and set it on my bookshelf where I now see it every day. At first, the good idea jar was just about having a place to put my good ideas. I tend to have so many of them, and almost always act on them immediately. I've been learning the advantages of letting things simmer, and sorting out which of my good ideas I should turn into great accomplishments. But the good idea jar also re-scripted a way of thinking I'd unknowingly trapped myself within.
This past year, I took a decent stab at the academic job market. For someone who pitched their wares without even a peer-reviewed publication at the time, and to less than a dozen top-ranked universities, the fact that I garnered two interviews and a campus visit was a remarkable coup. But then: a little domino of rejections. The academic job market is something more than a rollercoaster, if only because its heights are so dazzling and its drops so stark; it actually makes no sense as a machine. As the fantasy evaporated, I felt my deep reservoir of confidence and enthusiasm run dry. What, exactly, was I trying to accomplish? What was I aiming for? Somehow I had wound up in the precise contortion I never thought I would find myself in: my academic position (or lack thereof) was defining my sense of capacity in the world. I was flailing without any sense of foundation--because the worst thing, so we believe, is to be an academic without the umbrella of affiliation. For a long time, I've believed that I would not be able to enact any good ideas until I had the employment security of an academic position. I presumed that, without an academic position, I'd be overwhelmed finding work and filling CV gaps. I believed not having a position was not just a failing, but career quicksand to be avoided at all costs. Since the position was deemed the gateway for all other possibility, I did not find it necessary to engage with what my good ideas or internal professional desires might even be, beyond the very narrow vision of locating my first tenure track position. In other words, I'd let the career tell me what my goals should be, rather than taking the time to define those goals for myself. When I made the effort to lay out my good ideas, I realized none of them required a particular kind of academic appointment. Some relied on scholarly networks and connections, or involved scholarly publication. But many were about curious, non-academic collaboration, goals around public scholarship, or pursuing challenging, kooky research projects. The ideas that truly got me revved up did not require the "dream" appointments that had seemed so near-at-hand just a month or two prior. I'd been thinking the job made space to have the ideas. But there's another way to play the career game: I could simply choose to be led by my ideas, and trust that everything else will follow. By forcing myself to realize that I was full of good ideas, big and small, I was able to dismantle a vision of myself defined by whether or not I had a position. I was able to feel excited and inspired again, and eager to focus on what would bring me deep satisfaction. When the goal is simply "the position" we lose something of our native creativity, and corrupt learning opportunities into hoops to be jumped through. The position and the good ideas are two separate things; they are not actually welded together. This is not to say I don't desire a position in academia. But I realize the best way for me to obtain a position is to not live an emotional life that feels poised on the brink of incapacity. Instead of letting the false linearity of academic ladder climbing dictate my sense of progress and accomplishment, I found it motivating to claim a right to interests, goals and drives that exist first on my own terms. No matter what position I do or don't get, that jar will always be full. From there, I can let the ideas, not the institution, to be the foundation of my aspiration. How to Make Your Own Good Idea Jar It's an exercise I'd encourage others to try. You just need:
A while back, I shared a special archival find: the first ad ever printed for Sierra On-Line/On-Line System's Mystery House, from the May 1980 issue of MICRO 6502. While this ad has long been "findable" on the 'net, it required a special bit of diligence to go looking for this ad in particular and circulate it as a historical document. The ad On-Line ran in June 1980 was the same as May. But in July 1980, the ad changed rather dramatically. The long, onerous text has been cut. Moreover, the ad moved far forward in the magazine, all the way to page 1. When eager readers flipped the cover on their July issue of MICRO 6502, they'd have been staring at the latest selection of software offerings from On-Line Systems. Obviously, On-Line was doing quite well for themselves--they no doubt paid a considerable fee for "page 1" property. The blessedly improved layout and typography also speaks to a quickly refining profile. Gone is the home coupon style sales/shipping form crammed into a corner, although the Williamses were still receiving orders at their home and on their home phone line.
The cassette versions of Trapshoot and Skeetshoot (available in the previous two months' ads) have been jettisoned. Two new pieces of software are offered in this July ad: Paddle Graphics and Tablet Graphics, both graphics utilities for enterprising programmers ("Tools for Making Tools" as Steven Levy terms this kind of software in Hackers). For a talented programmer such as Ken, these programs were likely easy one-offs derived from his experience designing Mystery House's hi-res graphics and the new work he was doing developing a machine language system for Roberta's upcoming project at the time, The Wizard and the Princess (the first adventure game with color graphics). What was called Hi-Res Adventure ("Mystery House") in the May and June issues is now Hi-Res Adventure #1, an anticipatory numbering gesturing to a future series of hi-res adventure games. The copy also gives a subtle clue to one of the more frustratingly unprompted puzzles in the game: you'll need to smash a wall. (Roberta Williams had a real kick for making her players deconstruct houses). My favorite part? The description for Hi-Res Adventure #1 mentions "French version available upon request." What I wouldn't give for a French copy of Mystery House! Who was doing your translation, On-Line? Today I'm posting the press release for a great project being co-piloted by my colleague at Illinois Institute of Technology, Carly Kocurek. So, aside from being a great game historian, Kocurek's also breaking into the realm of game design--a move I'm glad to see more and more game academics make. Read through the press release for this provocative game, and donate something if you can. We need a game world with more options like these. "Choice: Texas" // An IndieGoGo Campaign Launch Game addresses reproductive healthcare access in the Lone Star State
PRESS RELEASE: Austin (August 19, 2013) – Choice: Texas, an interactive fiction game addressing abortion access in Texas, officially launches its IndieGoGo fundraising campaign on August 19, 2013 (http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/choice-texas-a-very-serious-game/x/3912619). Billed as “a very serious game,” Choice: Texas draws on research into Texas legal regulations, geography, and demographics and asks players to consider the plight of women seeking reproductive healthcare in the lone star state. Funds raised through the campaign will assist in game development and publicity. “This game is about an important issue effecting women in Texas, and is intended as a means of furthering discussion and empathy,“ said game co-developer and co-designer Carly Kocurek. “We really think games can facilitate further conversation about and understanding of these kinds of issues.” The game, developed and designed by Kocurek and Allyson Whipple, invites players to experience the story of one of several Texas women, ranging from a high school honors student not ready to be a mother to an excited mother-to-be confronted with dangerous medical complications. While the women are fictional, they are reflective of Texas’s population and the regulations, financial barriers, and geographic limitations faced by the characters are also drawn from the state’s real environment. A prototype of the game will be presented at the Future and Reality of Gaming (FROG) 13 conference in Vienna this fall, and a complete version of the game will be published as a browser game in January 2014. The game will be free to play, and will feature original artwork by illustrator Grace Jennings. Fundraising for the game will be open through September 15, 2013. Further information about the game is available on the game’s Tumblr, at choicetexas.tumblr.com. Kocurek and Whipple are both available for interviews, and can be contacted by e-mail at playchoicetexas@gmail.com or via phone at (940) 224-2235. |
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