Creation Story, Part I
Create: (according to my Webster’s New Universal Unabridged): “1. to cause to come into being, as something unique that would not naturally evolve or that is not made by ordinary processes.”
Create, creative, creation. My graduate program, this blog space are touted as creative writing. Last December I met a woman who asked me what that meant. I don’t think I ever gave her a satisfactory answer. In some ways, I’ve never struggled so much to feel creative, in others, I’ve never been so clear in my ability to create.
‘Something unique that would not naturally evolve.’ I’ve been reading a lot more about the original Biosphere 2 project; Rebecca Reider’s book, Dreaming the Biosphere, and Jane Poynter’s, The Human Experiment: Two Years and Twenty Minutes Inside Biosphere 2. The more I read, the more I come to view Biosphere 2’s existence as a creative (rather than scientific) achievement. Then again, Jane Poynter writes: “If you ask twenty people who were part of the project what the aim of it was, you would receive close to twenty different responses.” (p. 103). And also, “The Biosphere was a big Rorschach test with everyone seeing through his or her own lens.” (p. 65).
At Biosphere 2’s inception, the founders and the mainstream press frequently invoked the US manned space flight programs for comparison. It may have seemed grandiose, but the original B2 mission was in many ways a greater testament to the power of a creative vision than the lunar landings. For one thing, B2 was more ambitious technically and scientifically – the ultimate goal was a self-sustaining miniature Earth capable of being exported to other planets. For another, B2 was created and controlled by John Allen. He had a Harvard MBA and an engineering degree, but his previous two decades had been mostly spent leading a series of communes and a traveling theater troupe; the Mercury and Apollo programs were directed by actual rocket scientists. Both the books I mentioned above devote whole sections to exposing the unfairness of the media attacks on Allen and the Biospherians based on their unorthodox lifestyles and lack of scientific credentials. In truth, the B2 creators and participants appear to have been a remarkably talented, committed group; and the scientists they attracted were top-notch, too. But, the fact remains that a man and his followers with resumes more suited to Burning Man than Man on the Moon were responsible for creating a $200 million project with the stated objective of space colonization – and convincing a billionaire and several respected scientific institutions, this University among them, to commit their resources to it. The commitment to creative vision, not to mention the sheer chutzpah of that, is mind-boggling.
Somewhere at the other end of the creativity spectrum lies a woman I met last December in Amarillo, Texas. This woman – we’ll call her Martha -- spent most of her previous two decades as a fundamentalist Christian missionary in far Eastern Europe. Now, through happenstance and in-laws (which may be synonymous), I found myself in her living room having tea and cookies as she asked me what I did. It was when I told her about my MFA program that she asked me, “What does ‘creative writing’ mean?”
I’ve thought about it a lot lately, and I would love to have said something witty or profound. Or maybe I could have turned it back on her and said, “You tell me.” As it is I explained that I was in a program with different genres, including poetry and non-fiction, and that my focus was fiction.
“What do you mean by ‘fiction?’” she responded.
I paused, not sure if she was putting me on or not. “Ah, fiction is made-up, not true.” She asked me for an example. I said, “I’m working mostly on short stories for now, maybe novels and screenplays later.”
“What do you mean by ‘novel?’”
It was clear to me from earlier conversations that Martha was at least normally intelligent. So I tried to imagine that she was incredibly naïve, like a cloistered nun, or maybe George of the Jungle. But there was something about the way she kept smiling without making any attempt to suggest answers that made me feel defensive. She had the strange quality of being inquisitive without seeming curious.
Everyone else in the room was looking at me, and I stifled an urge to give my wife the “Is it me?” look. “A novel is a type of book, a long fictional story," I said.
“Hmmm, that sounds so smart,” said Martha, pronouncing smart like it was exotic and vaguely indecent, like it was Shakira’s ass. “I’m not that smart. Why don’t people just say ‘book’ – why do they have to sound so smart?” She kept smiling the whole time.
My department head, Aurelie Sheehan, is working on a novel. I met with her last week to talk about some of my ideas for this B2 writing project, and when I was leaving I asked her how her work was going. She paused and seemed to leave the room for a moment to think. “It’s like an alternate reality,” she paused again. “Which is good.”
I agree. That sounds good.
Showing posts with label biosphere 2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label biosphere 2. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
A Scientist Communication Trainer
In my first post I talked about the increasing importance to scientists of communicating their work more effectively to non-scientists. Then a few weeks ago, I saw that U of A and Biosphere 2, as part of ‘Earth Week,’ were sponsoring a lecture and movie screening by a man named Randy Olson. Olson is a Harvard-educated marine biologist-turned filmmaker and now author. His new book, Don’t Be Such a Scientist, attempts to teach scientists -- and perhaps all rational, well-educated people – how to get their points across without turning people off. His new movie, which screened at the Loft on March 31, is called Sizzle: A Global Warming Comedy. Book and movie are theory and practice in Olson’s curriculum.
I fought a sell-out crowd at the Loft to see the movie. And yes, I went, in part, because of my internship with Biosphere 2, but I probably wouldn’t have gone if not for the title -- A Global Warming Comedy – and from a source considered acceptable to appear at Earth Week. This was intriguing. Olson would say this is the art of “arousal.” In his book he offers a lot of binary formulas; “arousal” and “fulfillment” is one of them. These are the keys, he says, to effective communication. Arousal and fulfillment are why stories are so much more powerful than, say, dissertations. No matter how important the discovery, you must arouse, or motivate, people to read about it. Advertising is as important as the message itself, says Olson, and scientists don’t like to admit this. In Don't Be Such a Scientist, Olson tells several cautionary tales to support this hypothesis, including the story of penicillin. Most people know that British scientist Alexander Fleming is credited with having discovered penicillin. And indeed, Fleming published his findings on the anti-bacterial properties of a certain blue-green mold in 1929. But that's all he did. He apparently published his findings in an obscure academic journal and made no effort to promote the importance of his findings or even to connect with other researchers who may have been able to help develop penicillin. It wasn't until the early 1940's when more purposeful scientists discovered Fleming's work that penicillin was developed as the first anti-biotic. Olson asks, how many lives might have been saved if Fleming had believed in advertising?
Olson also cites Malcolm Gladwell from Blink for the importance of quick first impressions and relates a lot of what he learned about story-telling from the USC film school. But most of what he says boils down to the notiont that scientists need to worry more about style and less about substance if they want people to listen.
What was particularly interesting to me about Olson’s movie Sizzle and his comments afterward were that he is clearly interested in bridging some of the divides in the country, the separate circles I spoke about last time. In Sizzle as well as his previous movie, a film about the evolution-intelligent design debate called Flock of Dodos, he pits scientists vs. anti-scientists. In fact, one of my criticisms of Sizzle was that he gave the contrarians too much representation, giving their views a disproportionate time on screen compared to the actual percentage of legitimate scientists who are global warming skeptics. But he does something neither Al Gore nor Fox News would do – he allows each side to speak, and even though it’s pretty clear he believes in the mainstream science view of global warming, he doesn’t obviously stack the deck against the contrarians or play Michael Moore gotcha tricks.
I got a chance to talk to Olson one-on-one after the screening. When I mentioned my concern about too much face time for the contrarians he said he was aware of it but he felt that people watching the film would see that the mainstream scientists were more consistent and credible -- and not because of content so much as nonverbal cues. The contrarians were weird and their mannerisms didn't project confidence. On the other hand, Olson said that people who considered themselves undecided or neutral on the evolution/intelligent design debate before watching Flock of Dodos, tended to side with the intelligent designers after watching the movie – because they were simply more likable. The scientists came across as strident and condescending. The scientists got worked up and frustrated, and this pissed people off. So Olson thinks that the key for scientists is to work on being more likeable, better storytellers, and more respectful of people on the other side.
I am not sure society is ready yet for scientists to be the glib story-tellers that Olson envisions. One of his central points – another binary reduction – is that there are two kinds of error in communications: accuracy errors and “interest” errors. Scientists invariably prefer to make ‘interest’ errors over ‘accuracy’ errors, whereas good story-tellers almost always sacrifice accuracy for interest. It comes with the territory, the nature of how scientists are trained, but Olson says scientists must alter their strict bias toward interest errors or they will not have anyone hear what they are saying.
I’m not so sure this will work the way Olson suggests, however. As I mentioned last time, the Biosphere 2 experiment was perceived as a failure, in part because they had a bias toward story-telling over accuracy. People – the media, mainstream public – held the scientists to a different standard. Yes, Olson is right, we’d like all our scientists to be as likeable as Carl Sagan, but would Carl Sagan have made it if he didn’t have the scientists aura of superior accuracy? I’m not so sure it’s going to be easy for scientists to become entertainers and successful talk show debaters by simply becoming better story-tellers. Would it hurt to learn some of the tenets in Don’t Be Such a Scientist? Probably not. Those professors’ students would appreciate it if nothing else. But it’s a tough box that scientists find themselves in right now – and I’m not sure they can just gussy themselves up for the Blink world of style over substance and solve the problem.
Nonetheless, I think there is something important and valuable in Olson's approach. In his movies it feels at times like he is just a fight promoter who wants to make sure that the main contenders actually get in the ring together. In his book, he’s in the scientists’ corner as a trainer. But in person, he was respectful and good-humored with everyone, including a vocal minority of global warming skeptics. He didn't seem to get frustrated with them, even though he conceded later he thought their lines of attack were ill-reasoned and based on inaccurate information. This equanimity in the face of attacks and disagreement with his scienctific values certainly seemed to be Olson practicing what he preaches, but I gathered there was more to it than intentional restraint or adherence to style. As Olson explained, he grew up in Kansas in a conservative Republican family. He is able to remember that the people who disagree with some of his fundamental principles as a scientist are still people he cares about. And to me, this was his most impressive statement.
One hindrance to communicating science that is illustrated in Sizzle but not directly addressed in Olson's book is that people in the US increasingly see facts as relative. It used to be that people seemed to have some basic societal agreement on facts; they trusted mainstream science and journalism, but they disagreed on politics. Now politics determines facts. So how does one deal with this problem that every statement is treated as opinion and everyone has one? He agreed it was a tough question, and he didn’t have a ready answer. But perhaps there are no answers, only approaches, and the one he demonstrated may well be a good one to emulate.
Other stuff ...
Errata: I mentioned in my first post that Mitch and Fenton had just joined the choir last year. I understand now that Mitch has been with the University choir for several years. I apologize for this 'accuracy error.'
Announcement: Mitch’s wife, Barney, gave birth to a healthy baby girl on March 22nd -- congratulations and welcome Evelyn Raie!
I fought a sell-out crowd at the Loft to see the movie. And yes, I went, in part, because of my internship with Biosphere 2, but I probably wouldn’t have gone if not for the title -- A Global Warming Comedy – and from a source considered acceptable to appear at Earth Week. This was intriguing. Olson would say this is the art of “arousal.” In his book he offers a lot of binary formulas; “arousal” and “fulfillment” is one of them. These are the keys, he says, to effective communication. Arousal and fulfillment are why stories are so much more powerful than, say, dissertations. No matter how important the discovery, you must arouse, or motivate, people to read about it. Advertising is as important as the message itself, says Olson, and scientists don’t like to admit this. In Don't Be Such a Scientist, Olson tells several cautionary tales to support this hypothesis, including the story of penicillin. Most people know that British scientist Alexander Fleming is credited with having discovered penicillin. And indeed, Fleming published his findings on the anti-bacterial properties of a certain blue-green mold in 1929. But that's all he did. He apparently published his findings in an obscure academic journal and made no effort to promote the importance of his findings or even to connect with other researchers who may have been able to help develop penicillin. It wasn't until the early 1940's when more purposeful scientists discovered Fleming's work that penicillin was developed as the first anti-biotic. Olson asks, how many lives might have been saved if Fleming had believed in advertising?
Olson also cites Malcolm Gladwell from Blink for the importance of quick first impressions and relates a lot of what he learned about story-telling from the USC film school. But most of what he says boils down to the notiont that scientists need to worry more about style and less about substance if they want people to listen.
What was particularly interesting to me about Olson’s movie Sizzle and his comments afterward were that he is clearly interested in bridging some of the divides in the country, the separate circles I spoke about last time. In Sizzle as well as his previous movie, a film about the evolution-intelligent design debate called Flock of Dodos, he pits scientists vs. anti-scientists. In fact, one of my criticisms of Sizzle was that he gave the contrarians too much representation, giving their views a disproportionate time on screen compared to the actual percentage of legitimate scientists who are global warming skeptics. But he does something neither Al Gore nor Fox News would do – he allows each side to speak, and even though it’s pretty clear he believes in the mainstream science view of global warming, he doesn’t obviously stack the deck against the contrarians or play Michael Moore gotcha tricks.
I got a chance to talk to Olson one-on-one after the screening. When I mentioned my concern about too much face time for the contrarians he said he was aware of it but he felt that people watching the film would see that the mainstream scientists were more consistent and credible -- and not because of content so much as nonverbal cues. The contrarians were weird and their mannerisms didn't project confidence. On the other hand, Olson said that people who considered themselves undecided or neutral on the evolution/intelligent design debate before watching Flock of Dodos, tended to side with the intelligent designers after watching the movie – because they were simply more likable. The scientists came across as strident and condescending. The scientists got worked up and frustrated, and this pissed people off. So Olson thinks that the key for scientists is to work on being more likeable, better storytellers, and more respectful of people on the other side.
I am not sure society is ready yet for scientists to be the glib story-tellers that Olson envisions. One of his central points – another binary reduction – is that there are two kinds of error in communications: accuracy errors and “interest” errors. Scientists invariably prefer to make ‘interest’ errors over ‘accuracy’ errors, whereas good story-tellers almost always sacrifice accuracy for interest. It comes with the territory, the nature of how scientists are trained, but Olson says scientists must alter their strict bias toward interest errors or they will not have anyone hear what they are saying.
I’m not so sure this will work the way Olson suggests, however. As I mentioned last time, the Biosphere 2 experiment was perceived as a failure, in part because they had a bias toward story-telling over accuracy. People – the media, mainstream public – held the scientists to a different standard. Yes, Olson is right, we’d like all our scientists to be as likeable as Carl Sagan, but would Carl Sagan have made it if he didn’t have the scientists aura of superior accuracy? I’m not so sure it’s going to be easy for scientists to become entertainers and successful talk show debaters by simply becoming better story-tellers. Would it hurt to learn some of the tenets in Don’t Be Such a Scientist? Probably not. Those professors’ students would appreciate it if nothing else. But it’s a tough box that scientists find themselves in right now – and I’m not sure they can just gussy themselves up for the Blink world of style over substance and solve the problem.
Nonetheless, I think there is something important and valuable in Olson's approach. In his movies it feels at times like he is just a fight promoter who wants to make sure that the main contenders actually get in the ring together. In his book, he’s in the scientists’ corner as a trainer. But in person, he was respectful and good-humored with everyone, including a vocal minority of global warming skeptics. He didn't seem to get frustrated with them, even though he conceded later he thought their lines of attack were ill-reasoned and based on inaccurate information. This equanimity in the face of attacks and disagreement with his scienctific values certainly seemed to be Olson practicing what he preaches, but I gathered there was more to it than intentional restraint or adherence to style. As Olson explained, he grew up in Kansas in a conservative Republican family. He is able to remember that the people who disagree with some of his fundamental principles as a scientist are still people he cares about. And to me, this was his most impressive statement.
One hindrance to communicating science that is illustrated in Sizzle but not directly addressed in Olson's book is that people in the US increasingly see facts as relative. It used to be that people seemed to have some basic societal agreement on facts; they trusted mainstream science and journalism, but they disagreed on politics. Now politics determines facts. So how does one deal with this problem that every statement is treated as opinion and everyone has one? He agreed it was a tough question, and he didn’t have a ready answer. But perhaps there are no answers, only approaches, and the one he demonstrated may well be a good one to emulate.
Other stuff ...
Errata: I mentioned in my first post that Mitch and Fenton had just joined the choir last year. I understand now that Mitch has been with the University choir for several years. I apologize for this 'accuracy error.'
Announcement: Mitch’s wife, Barney, gave birth to a healthy baby girl on March 22nd -- congratulations and welcome Evelyn Raie!
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