As part of my work creating a new kind of news site for the Missourian, I co-managed a team of students dedicated to the project in Spring 2010. They represented different areas of expertise and had in common only extreme engagement, intelligence and vision. At the end of our semester-long work together, I gave them this assignment: Based on the stellar NPR series This I Believe, what do you believe? After a semester of growing/struggling/researching/learning/cogitating, what do you know for sure?
Here is my own answer (If you'd rather hear me read it, you can do that here):
I believe in feeling stupid, in repeatedly putting myself into situations that are uncomfortable and in which I am unlikely to achieve quick success. I have a lifelong pattern of doing this, and the pattern includes plenty of self-doubt and irritation. Each time I jump into something scary, I question why I can't just pick the easy path. Why I can't hang out INSIDE my comfort zone for awhile. That comfort zone a cozy place where I feel great about myself and the people around me. It has a welcome sign, and the coffee's always on. But I intentionally choose the opposite. I dive into unfamiliar situations, swimming toward discomfort and the anxiety that comes with it.
I certainly chose an industry that indulges my habit. One of my favorite things about journalism is that the next challenge is never hard to find. A slight change in job description usually offers a new skill set or new way of thinking to be mastered. As a professional journalist, my daily tasks have often changed dramatically every six months or so.
This personality trait of mine is one reason I thrived as a reporter, and the addiction got fed each time I took on a topic or beat with which I was unfamiliar. Pulp mining in Alaska. A change in annuity laws. College basketball. Abortion law. I'd get the assignment, then listen as one little voice in my brain would yell about how ridiculous it was for me to think I could quickly learn enough about the topic to explain it to readers. Another little voice would say, "yes, but it'll be fun! And you said you wanted to be challenged."
Over last few years, my challenges have been more fundamental than a new topic to research. As a print designer, I was asked to prototype a weekend magazine. Fun, right? Not to voice number one, who said loudly to the rest of my brain, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE GETTING YOURSELF INTO! YOU'LL FAIL, AND LOUDLY!" And I did, at first. Boy, did I feel stupid. Still today, I can't think about my first few efforts without profound embarrassment. But then I hooked up with someone who could work with me and help guide me — someone much more skilled than me — and somehow, despite my involvement, the final product was brilliant. I embraced my limitations, grew as a designer and fed my need for change.
Then, I decided I needed to learn interactive design. I peeked behind the veil of Flash and CSS projects and said, "THAT'S NOT DESIGN! THAT'S CODE! I KNOW CODE WHEN I SEE IT! I'M A DESIGNER, DAMMIT, NOT A PROGRAMMER!" This particular area of growth is a continual one. Every time I try something I haven't tried before, I want to embrace failure and ask someone to do it for me. But my struggle is fortified by the knowledge that the uncomfortable process is as important as the end product. I have to wade through the feeling stupid part to find growth and success.
Most recently, I was part of a team that envisioned a brand new way for news and information to be shared online. I reveled in the brainstorming and dreaming part of the process. I fed off my colleagues' ideas and felt confident in my role as collaborator. It was nothing but fun — until it was time to mock up the new site, and it became clear that that part was all me. I'd made Web sites before, sure. But not complicated ones that would then be handed off to a development team. "ARE YOU CRAZY?" the scared voice yelled. "THIS IS FOR REAL. YOU CAN'T FAKE YOUR WAY THROUGH THIS ONE. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING?" There was no creative genius to hold my hand. No magic code to look up online that would hold the key to success. Just me. On the third floor of the Daniel Boone Regional Library. And a development team wondering when I could send my first drafts.
I have no idea yet if my work will prove to be a success. The stakes are high, and the options feel like they're probably epic success or epic failure. As I wait for the results and face my next huge challenge, the little scared, tired, overwhelmed voice is advising me to swim toward the comfort zone next time. Get a cup of coffee, perform familiar tasks and get better and better at them. In my comfort zone, I feel confident in my ability to succeed, and stress from work doesn't follow me home or wake me up at night.
But I know I won't. I'll choose discomfort, as I have my entire life. Because it's my own version of being an adrenaline junkie. Because I have a wandering attention span. Because I can't help wanting to master new intellectual tasks. Because giving into fear not an acceptable reason to avoid added stress. And because complacency is worse than stupidity.