Sunday, October 18, 2009

Me and Apress; reflections on Two Years

I don't know the exact day I started work for Apress, but it's just about exactly two years ago, late-October, 2007. Apress is still a publisher of tech books and I am still a heavily-bearded fellow, but neither Apress nor I are really the same. Most obviously,we've weathered a major reorganization at Apress—the move from Berkeley to New York, new hierarchy, new personnel, new systems, new workflow. Yet we are finishing a challenging year strongly. I feel very good about this new enterprise that is Apress.

Less obvious, but much more inevitable, I've changed, too. I'm more knowledgeable having learned to make books the Apress way. I'm more responsible; the MacDev and iPhone "line leader," which includes the awe-inspiring title, Assistant Editorial Director. (I still prefer to think of myself as an editor.) I'm more "important," which I put in quotes to indicate that this refers to the books I publish. There are more of them and they sell more copies than the books I acquired during my first year as Apress editor.

Every organization has its own culture and methods. This is a given, a challenge made more difficult by our virtual collegiality, with no two editors in the same city and spread across three continents, and yet made less challenging because all of my editorial colleagues have been generously kind and unselfishly helpful—the spirit of mutual cooperation I've written about before and still value highly. All of this has helped to make me a more confident editor and I hope a better one, as well.

I fear that I'm sounding too much like a marketing campaign for myself, which is not the intent. While there's something unavoidably self-serving about writing a personal blog, my intent is not to celebrate, but to talk about events and give my impressions. In this case, the story is the simple fact that after two years, I'm still happy to be working at Apress. And I observe that Apress and I have changed together over this period, and there's no separating these two facts.

Much of my life today is defined by my work as an Apress editor, it's very much a part of my identity, something I'm proud of. At the same time, after almost a year of Mac and iPhone books on the market, I think Apress has, if not exactly a new identity, at least become more widely known and respected. Perhaps I've become more widely known and respected, as well. Let's hope we both deserve it. Perhaps year three will provide the answer.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Kiss my Occam's Razor


I bristle at the mere mention the K.I.S.S. principle. My structures professor at Cornell School of Architecture was the first person I knew who referred to this, but it somehow seemed to apply to the design of steel structures for building. Some year's later, I had an incompetent manager who referred to K.I.S.S. nearly every time he faced a difficult decision. I soon realized that the principle had more to do with stupidity than simplicity. Perhaps this is why it's such a popular refrain of thoughtless decision makers trying to avoid the inevitable hard decisions of everyday life.

Its overuse, over-application, and overly-simplistic nature make K.I.S.S. essentially useless. In fact, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy of stupidity. And you can't argue when someone puts their foot down in the quagmire of K.I.S.S., because it just makes you seem contrary for no good reason. It's as if K.I.S.S. were the secret code for "we're not going to talk about this, any more."

However, there is an undeniable germ of truth in this principle that I, too, find attractive. Simplicity really is a good thing and I often speak of the elegant simplicity of designs that I admire. But elegant simplicity is a rare thing and hard to achieve. It's the antithesis of stupidity, and is more correctly summarized by Occam's Razor, or the Law of Succinctness.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Occam's_Razor

Essentially, given two theories that say the same thing, one chooses the theory that introduces the fewest assumptions. In scientific inquiry, one continues to apply Occam's Razor in binary fashion (applicable to computer science) until one has eliminated as many assumptions as possible and produced the most succinct, or simplest, result. Instead of shutting off debate, Occam's Razor invites debate as a means for achieving understanding in complex situations. Which means that Occam's Razor also recognizes complexity as the pre-existing condition. Complexity, debate, and the process of finding the finely-honed solution based on the fewest number of variables, or assumptions, is what leads to informed decision making.

This is not simple and it's not for people who prefer the thoughtless and stupid. It is a process requiring thoughtfulness, intelligence, and a recognition of complexity. I prefer to celebrate the complexity of things, even as I recognize the enormous challenges this creates. But I do not want my world dumbed down for the sake of stupid simplification. Instead, complexity allows us to celebrate truly elegant simplicity and those who are able to find it and define it for others.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Timo on Stage, looking skinny, but powerful


I'm in LA this week attending a concert of the LA Philharmonics Green Umbrella Series and then sticking around for an Apress editorial gathering in Pasadena. I find that we have many friends here, friends and relatives I've known and loved for a long time and don't see nearly enough. Many of them came to Disney Hall on Tuesday night to hear Timo perform and be performed. They've all known Timo since he was born.

Rather than talk about the recital, here are a couple of articles about it from the LA Times. First, a profile of Timo that appeared before the concert.

Timothy Andres is enjoying his moment in the L.A. sun

And after the concert, this review:

John Adams conducts young composer-performers at Disney Hall

I was asked before the concert began if I got nervous when Timo performed. "I used to, but I don't anymore." I took my seat, row three, front and center, the lights dimmed, Timo bounced out on stage, and the applause hit me. I was nervous. I got hot and damp and needed to roll up my sleeves. Timo was wearing his new black silk Nehru shirt he'd bought for the occasion, and he looked very tall, skinny, and all of the females reported that he also looked extremely attractive. He sat, pushed his hair back with an artistic swipe (there's a lot of it just now), thought a moment, looked a bit nervous to me, but he got right down to work.

He played a piece he'd practiced in the living room at home. It's one I know well and particularly enjoy hearing. The sound seemed to fly away in the big hall and I felt how lonely it must feel on stage. I was still nervous, but now Timo was in control; up close to the keys, barely touching them, then BANG with a big motion. He's exciting to watch. He and the piece begin to feel like one thing. He is the master of the instrument and, like a flying carpet, it takes him wherever he desires. The piece is full of inside jokes, references to music Timo has played in his life, and I smile each time I hear them. I'm happy, and moved, and it's hard to believe that he can do these things.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Apress Reorgs: It's Simultaneously Unsettling and Encouraging News


The Apress Quarterly Call was scheduled for Thursday. I thought nothing of it, after all, we have them every quarter. The publisher, Paul Manning, flies out to Berkeley to gather the forces and deliver the news, good or bad, and urge us on to greater things. He's good at it and I enjoy listening to him. But he sounded nervous when I called in to join the call; cleared his throat quite a bit and wasn't his usual jovial self.

"Springer has decided reorganize Apress, moving production and marketing to New York and closing the Berkeley office."

Silence. He read on from his prepared script, explaining the reasons and adding that editorial, my group, would continue unchanged. But the bombshell had been dropped and I felt that pulsing throb of adrenalin—fight or flight? And yet, my job was safe. My books would be published and my authors would continue pretty much unaffected by this shifting of tectonic plates.

In fact, the reorg seems to indicate Springer's complete faith in our far-flung editorial group and particularly in our editorial director, Dominic Shakeshaft. We will be backed by new, more streamlined and agile production methods that are intended to allow us greater control and productivity. The goal is to allow Apress to grow and be a larger publisher, while recognizing that publishing isn't just about printing books; which is really the key to this whole, unsettling reorg.

I believe that all of us in editorial have recognized the urgency of the new publishing models, whatever they turn out to be. We talk about this a lot and argue over ways to remain relevant as the eBook becomes dominant and the dusty tome becomes quaint and rustic. But none of us doubts that this is happening or sees it as a negative thing. We very much embrace it and want to be a part of it. Apparently, Springer supports this vision, which is a tremendous vote of confidence.

It's interesting that in our thoughts of future publishing, we all pretty much failed to realize that we were discussing a business imperative. In short, it took our relatively young publisher, a Springer lifer with a background in marketing and engineering, to make the business decision and open the gates wide for us to step through into our future vision. It's exciting, but also a little scary. I'm not used to being treated with such trust, but I must say, it affirms my feelings of mutual respect within Apress editorial. It's very encouraging.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Elusive, and yet predictable


Here, in the second week of May and after five days of showers and thunderstorms, mild daytime temperatures in the 50's and 60's, and just as the lilac are in full bloom, morel season has arrived. This is not an overconfident prediction, but a certainty. We went out this morning with our collecting bag and headed for a favorite, and usually productive trail in Hidden Valley along the swollen Shepaug River. An hour later, having seen kaykers, walked by mature ramps now several weeks old, seen pink lady slippers almost ready to unfold, there was nothing in our bag.

This is how it usually is for us. Were we too late, too early, or just unlucky? Back in the car to River Road and Steep Rock proper. Some years ago we came upon a spot that has produced every year, though never as many as the first time we picked here with Tommy. It didn't look promising, at last not at first. But there it was, followed by seven more small specimens of what are popularly known as white morels. They aren't very white, but they're a lighter shade than black morels, which aren't black.

I don't know why this is always so exciting, but it remains a thrill. It's not much, but Wellie made a lovely morel risotto and I grilled some asparagus. We were all quite satisfied, and Hoover and Rufus licked the plates.

Maybe we'll find some more on our walk tomorrow. Hope springs eternal.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Kind words of the day

The department of self-congratulations department posts the following compliment for the day. A mis-treated and badly abused author admitted that I was his favorite editor. Just goes to show, the worse you treat them, the more they respect you. I think there's a future for me in the old CIA.


Productivity Perceived

I got a lot of work done yesterday, or at least I feel as though I got a lot done. But how does one actually measure productivity? Am I fooling myself and do I have a false sense of having accomplished something when there's really nothing measurable? It's a curious thing, and I suspect has as much to do with feeling content as it does with getting anything substantive completed. So what have I done?

Mostly just answered a lot of emails. In fact, I've even caught up with a bunch of old emails that were waiting impatiently, nagging at the back of my mind for action. I shoveled the driveway three times, though with help. I chopped wood and made coffee. I finished a "handover" document (one of the bains of my existence) so that we can sign a new book for August,p[ and worked with Dave Mark to straighten out some of the confusion over our up and coming iPhone books.

It doesn't sound like much, and it's probably about average for any given day; really all in a day's work. But I finished the day without any bothersome and difficult things that should have gotten done. So I somehow have a feeling of having been productive.

Or perhaps it's that I finished the day and nobody was annoyed at me or felt I had let them down. Actually, I could be wrong about this and everyone is angry and annoyed, but just too polite to say so. I'll probably find out about it today, and that little happy feeling of accomplishment will vanish under the weight of today's realities. Time will tell.


Productivity

I got a lot of work done yesterday, or at least I feel as though I got a lot done. But how does one actually measure productivity? Am I fooling myself and do I have a false sense of having accomplished something when there's really nothing measurable? It's a curious thing, and I suspect has as much to do with feeling content as it does with getting anything substantive completed. So what have I done?

Mostly just answered a lot of emails. In fact, I've even caught up with a bunch of old emails that were waiting impatiently, nagging at the back of my mind for action. I shoveled the driveway three times, though with help. I chopped wood and made coffee. I finished a "handover" document (one of the bains of my existence) so that we can sign a new book for August,p[ and worked with Dave Mark to straighten out some of the confusion over our up and coming iPhone books.

It doesn't sound like much, and it's probably about average for any given day; really all in a day's work. But I finished the day without any bothersome and difficult things that should have gotten done. So I somehow have a feeling of having been productive.

Or perhaps it's that I finished the day and nobody was annoyed at me or felt I had let them down. Actually, I could be wrong about this and everyone is angry and annoyed, but just too polite to say so. I'll probably find out about it today, and that little happy feeling of accomplishment will vanish under the weight of today's realities. Time will tell.


Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Two in one day!

More from the department of shameless self-promotion department.

"Clay, I think you sell yourself short. You always amazed me. You're so much better than you think you are!

Hugs, Julie"

And it's not even from my sister.

Damn I'm Good!

Put this one down to the department of self-serving department. I've been feeling rather down and worthless, so I've decided to collect random compliments completely out of context. Here's one I received today:

"You're the best.

James"

Thanks to James, I've had my ego boost for the day and am able to carry on, firm in the knowledge that I'm not a total zero.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Things I haven't written about

I was supposed to blog about MacWorld. That was three weeks ago in San Francisco and I was working, and very much enjoyed it. I should have said something profound about the end of MacWorld, the absence of Steve Jobs, and the fact that I spent part of one day with Dikran, who had gone with me to the very first Mac World. But I didn't.

Perhaps I should have blogged about the inauguration, which I watched on TV. Wells to the bus from school and stood in the cold in the shadow of the Washington Monument and watched on a Jumbotron. Tommy went, too. He had tickets to watch the parade from inside the the Newseum on Pennsylvania Avenue, but I haven't really heard much from him about it. Wellie had a great time. Katharine wept as she watched. I found the important things impressive and forgave most of the rest. But I didn't blog about this, either.

But these things did make for a more eventful January than usual, and next week, on February 1st, I'll be taking my first trip to Germany for the Apress Editorial Conference in Heidelberg. It's our first chance to meet our Springer colleagues in computer science. Should be interesting, but perhaps not much to blog about.


Anxiety Attacks

I don't know why I should be so anxious. My outward mien is bluff and hardy in an outdoorsy, tough-guy way. Anxious is for milquetoasts, mamma's boys, and mealy-mouthed Melanie. And yet, I find myself thinking and not acting. I'm nervous about failing and I worry about displeasing people.

For example, I'm always behind in my work; never quite able to catch up to the backlog of emails awaiting answers. Katharine says it is the nature of my job that one can never really be caught up. There's always something else to do, which is true. It's also true that the harder I work, the further behind I become. This is either a truism or a self-fulfilling prophecy. The more I work, the more email I generate, and the more email I need to answer. What's wrong with this picture?

Last week we had our quarterly company call to learn about the end-of-the-year results from the publisher and senior management. These tend to be pleasant conference calls, and relaxing for me since I listen, lounge on the couch, and don't have to say much. Oddly, I started to get something like palpitations during the call. Everyone mentioned the success of my Mac OS X books. I should feel pleased, but instead I feel the inevitable let down when I'm unable to deliver similar successes in the future.

It's perverse. The more my success is mentioned, the worse I feel, so that by the end of the meeting, I feel as if I'm suffocating. I think that this must be what an anxiety attack feels like. However, my doctor tells me that anxiety, or panic, attacks often have no trigger. My episodes, and there are others, are always triggered by something, often the anticipation of a conversation or the disapproval of something I've done; that "bad boy" feeling.

In fact, Dimitri suggests that I have an "unhealthy" relationship with my boss, which comes as something of a surprise. This is the first boss I've had who I actually respect and admire and who treats my with kindness and understanding; more confusion. But he's right. There's some unhealthy, Freudian-like thing going on of trying to please so hard that you can never please enough. I need to work on this somehow. Perhaps I'm trying to hard.