Scientific Ink

Dunrie Greiling Ph.D., Ann Arbor, MI 48105

Life

Good product placement works – discovering I love Field Notes

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To Sell Is Human: The Surprising Truth About Moving Others
To Sell is Human Cover

In late 2012, I pre-ordered Daniel Pink’s book To Sell is Human. One of a set of five gifts/thank yous for pre-ordering was a Field Notes memo book, stamped with To Sell is Human on the back.

I read To Sell is Human, and I used the memo book. I am a journal keeper, and I like Moleskine journals (among others). I like to take my journal from start to finish, and I resist starting other notebook-y things and diffusing my writing efforts.

As a consequence, I haven’t always known what to do with little memo books, and yet I found a use for this one. I carried it in my purse. It served me well at those times I needed to jot something down on the run – especially when taking out my phone to add a task/send a message would have been awkward.

I use it differently than my journal. The memo book is a temporary holding place. It’s kind of like a written RAM that gets cleared away. I won’t keep the old one, and I keep journals forever.

I like Field Notes
My new Field Notes pack!

Daniel Pink’s cobranding/partnership/product-placement/whatever-it-was worked. Now I’m hooked on Field Notes’ graph-ruled memo books. I just received my re-up, this time I chose the kraft paper cover.

And I think of Daniel Pink and how we’re all in sales every time I reach for it, even though “To Sell is Human” is not stamped on the back of this one.

Knausgaard reading from My Struggle

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“The deeper you go inside, the more general a place you reach.”

Yes.

I read My Struggle Book 1 and now am 3/4 of the way through Book 2. I am loving these books and his writing. His description of the mundane and his internal monologue is riveting, addictive, and moving. Listen to his own reading of his work and see for yourself.

My Struggle: Book 1My Struggle: Book 1 by Karl Ove Knausgård

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

View all my reviews

Orient by water

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I orient by water. Apparently I have to keep it on the east. If I don’t I have a hard time finding my way around the land. This is one of the many reasons I don’t live in California.

I grew up on the east side of Michigan, in a town pressed up against Lake Saint Clair. Lake Saint Clair is part of the Great Lakes, it’s just not a great lake, more like a pool in between the two straits that connect Lake Huron with Lake Erie.

My family has a cottage up on the east side of the Bruce Peninsula, the Peninsula defines Georgian Bay stretching off to the east.

I spent a lot of time on the east side of south Florida. There again, the seemingly limitless Atlantic stretches off to the East.

And I went to school in New Jersey – once more on the eastern side of the continent.

Basically, all of my most familiar and beloved places have had “big water” to my east, and even when it hasn’t been in sight, I’ve known it was there.

When I go to a place like California that has its ocean to the west, I get my cardinal directions completely backwards, and I find myself stumbling over the fact that away from the water is indeed East, not West, when driving and planning routes. I have imprinted my mental maps on the entirely subjective assumption that the “big water is to the East”.

Georgian Bay - placid
The clear, cold water of Georgian Bay, which I like to keep to the East of me.

Learning about my own mental shortcuts helps me see that the categories I create about the world aren’t the world.

Margaret Atwood on writing perceptions

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I’m pondering the intricacies of nonfiction and fiction writing and interpretation. I heard this on the radio and recognized its truth immediately.

When you’re writing fiction, everybody thinks you’re secretly writing about real people and things. But if you write an autobiography, they think you’re lying as one does.

From Margaret Atwood’s interview with Arun Rath on NPR books, interview full text available from WFAE’s website.

An introvert’s social reserve – a muscle or a well?

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In March I changed my work setting. I left my job of almost seven years and moved to independent marketing consulting and writing. Although I have my share of meetings at client sites and in coffee shops, I typically work and write in my home office.

What I feared

I’m an introvert. I’m restored by quiet and work productively alone. That means I should like this situation, and I do. Yet, I was worried I might get isolated or isolate myself. The work I do requires me to reach out to others, for expertise, for feedback, for work, so I haven’t gone underground, it’s not possible.

I was worried I’d “go native” with the cats, get even more quiet and watchful. While that’s kind of a joke, I did think that being social was like a muscle. If I didn’t exercise it or keep in practice, I would drop back to previous levels of social awkwardness. In the last few months, I have had my usual share of awkward moments, but I don’t know if it is more or less than before. Probably about the same.

When I left my position, I thought I’d miss my team–I do miss them individually and as a group. I have to make a team or gather input from people less officially connected to my fate and my projects. It is a little more conscious and less spontaneous now, but others are still available. While I’m mostly on my own during the day, I’m hardly solo. Friends, collaborators, and mentors are as close as a phone call, an email, or a drive across town to a lunch date.

What surprised me

I thought I loved our open, collaborative workspace. Yet, I find working in a quiet office has increased my feeling of well-being. When I worked in a leadership position in our open office, I felt I was on-stage and yearned for privacy and quiet in my off-hours. I found myself procrastinating returning personal phone calls on weekends and weeknights. I sometimes felt overwhelmed by the need to be social, engaging, upbeat.

I am finding more social energy now that my need for quiet and privacy are better met. So my social reserve is more like a well, it needs time to replenish, and it is less like a muscle that needs to be kept in shape.

Next Steps

Clients and colleagues have offered me drop-in space at their offices, and Ann Arbor offers a great coworking space, the Workantile. So I have options if I need to work near others. Hasn’t happened yet, but it is nice to have a choice.