NerdKicks Update #2: The NerdKicks Logo

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Why I Should Not Become a Graphic Designer

I am so excited to show you the NerdKicks logo!

Holy catchphrase, Batman! Was I nervous to tackle this part of the project! How do you come up a logo for a term that you've coined?

I'd like to think that I have a good eye for design, in that I'm capable of recognizing it when I see it. But as the official proofreader at my company, my eye is better trained for noting visual incongruities than for developing new visual content. As I often remind our sales team, we leave collateral design to the professional. (His name is Eric and he is very patient.)

I live in awe of visual designers, people for whom this kind of creative development becomes second nature. Before this project, the closest thing to a logo I'd designed was this, as part of a birthday present:

In my Google-fied Latin, the motto reads "Words Are Mightier Than Dragons." 

Frankly, I'd planned to leave logo development in Matt's capable hands. But some projects won't sit quietly in the corner and thoughts of our logo continually nagged me for several days. "Go bother Matt," I tried to tell the thought, but instead it plopped down on my keyboard like a needy kitty and refused to leave until I gave it some attention.

Don't worry, I'll take the blog post from here.

The Logo Concept

We are working with two ideas, the sidekick and a nerd. To me, the most recognizable image of a sidekick is this:

Robin, wearing his black mask. Photo courtesy of Martin.Jessica

The most recognizable image of a nerd is this:

All nerds have tape on their glasses, right? Photo courtesy of ThatEpicNerdd

What about a logo with an image of the mask with tape on the bridge? I shot off the idea in an email to Matt; he responded quickly with "Love this!"

And here my troubles began.

I have a Pete-Holmesian desire for approval,* and as soon as someone tells me they love my idea, it triggers a creative arms race, an epic quest to top myself, to make it better, to get an even bigger response. I decided to take a crack at mocking up the logo myself.

This despite the fact I've never drawn anything in Photoshop.

This is how I approach all my craft projects. I don't set out to learn needlepoint, but rather I decide that needlepoint is the only route to creating the project I see in my head, I research the hell out of it, and tackle the project, failing again and again until I've built up enough skill to execute my vision. I've written about the process here.

If I may venture to speak for nerd-kind, I believe this is our true gift: we view challenges as puzzles to be solved, and then (and this is the key), we figure out how to break that puzzle into steps that lie just within our reach. We are masters of achieving flow.

"You know that what you need to do is possible to do, even though difficult, and sense of time disappears. You forget yourself. You feel part of something larger.” -- Mihaly Czikszentmihalyi**

Now, if you've used Photoshop, you can guess now how my version of the logo turned out. The program has a steep learning curve and cannot be mastered in a night. I spent the first hour in a state of flow, happily drawing Bezier curves. I may have even bragged to my cats at some point.

But then I tried to fill in color, and everything went to hell in a handbasket. I spent the next three hours searching help files, watching YouTube tutorials and swearing profusely at the program. I always feel a mix of shame and resentment when I can't Google search my way out of a problem.

Eventually Andrew figured out my mistake--I'd begun with an incorrect setting, meaning this logo had been doomed from the beginning. Just before midnight, I chucked all of my work and started over. I emerged at 2:30 with this:

Not our final logo.

I was inordinately proud of it, despite the fact that it's not that...well...it's not that great. I had tackled yet another scary project and hadn't completely humiliated myself. This is how all my favorite hobbies begin.

Matt took a few passes at the logo:

Closer, but the tape isn't quite right.

The tape turned out to be our downfall. We just couldn't get it right, and so finally, we called in a professional. Matt's friend Jonathan, also known as ByBloggers, did us a big ole favor and made us this:

The official NerdKicks logo! Yay, Jonathan! 

Folks, you should have heard me squeal when Matt emailed it to me! With Jonathan's help, we'd conquered our first big hurdle.

In the process, it reminded us of one of the tenets of the NerdKick philosophy. In trying to design the logo ourselves, Matt and I tried to be heroes. We failed. Thankfully, Matt had enough sense to turn to a friend with the knowledge and skills to pull off the project.

And Jonathan—our nerdkick—saved the day.

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Next Time: Our first recordings, and why closets should have power outlets. If you haven't done so, please sign up for our mailing list (and tell all your nerdy friends)!

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*Corey, that joke was for you. :-D

**I'd like to wholly endorse the sponsor of that video, Lynda.com. I have a monthly subscription and have learned tricks that have made me so happy I cried. Like legit tears of joy, yo!

NerdKicks Update #1: What the Heck Is a NerdKick?

It's time to introduce you to NerdKicks! And that calls for....wait for it...a Kermit flail!

Yaaaaaaaaay!

Thanks! I feel calm now. Perhaps you've seen mention of NerdKicks on my Twitter feed over the last month, and maybe you've signed up for our mailing list (please sign up for our mailing list!). Matt and I are in the process of putting this project together, and although it's not ready yet, I'm too excited to keep it to myself!

 

Meet Matt

First of all, let me introduce Matt Gartland! We met last summer over at the Accidental Creative. As the editorial director, it was his job to accept my nervous, scattered writing attempts, not throw his hands up in frustration, and teach me how to make them readable. Poor dear! In the process, we bonded over our nerdy love of Harry Potter, British television and movies, and epic book series.

Matt recently launched his own editing business, Winning Edits, with targeted advice for indie authors. The monthly newsletter will knock your socks off! You'll be amazed at how much advice this guy gives away for free! And then, about five minutes later, you'll notice your feet are cold.

"That's odd," you'll think. "I swear I was wearing socks before I read the Winning Edits DIY Book Development Dispatch. Why didn't someone warn me I'd lose my socks in this transaction?"

Look, don't complain to me! Lost socks are a small price to pay for stellar writing advice! I also hear the @WinningEdits Twitter feed is amazing.*

 

What the heck is a NerdKick?

When Matt and I met up over the Christmas holiday, we got to discussing his idea for a nerd leadership project. At this point I subjected him to my long, nerdy rant about why I love sidekicks just as much, if not more than, heroes. Leaders don't exist in a vacuum; they must have followers, and the sidekick is the most important follower. Not only does the sidekick legitimize the hero's idea, the sidekick is often crucial in the implementation of the idea.

A good sidekick is almost always a nerd, a person willing to do the research, to put in long hours in the library in a search for the obscure bit of information that unlocks the mystery. Where would Harry have been without Hermione? He wouldn't have lived through his first year at Hogwarts. I'm always drawn to the nerds: Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation, Hermione, R2D2, Commissioner Gordon, Abed on Community, Penelope Garcia on Criminal Minds.

Matt did what a good editor does: he listened to my long-winded rant and distilled it down to a single concept: NerdKicks. A nerdkick is the nerdy sidekick whose hard work continually allows the hero to shine: the engineer that builds the space shuttle so the astronaut can orbit the Earth, the analyst whose reports guide corporate strategy, the editor who makes your writing sparkle.

I am a nerdkick. I bet you are too.

 

What's Next?

NerdKicks will revolve around the podcast, which we are in the process of putting together (we ran our initial test recording on Monday). We'll tackle leadership topics from the nerd's perspective; data-driven and over-analyzed, with a healthy infusion of humor and play.

All of this will take place over at NerdKicks.com. I'll be keeping you up to date on our pre-launch progress here. For now, the best way to help us out is by joining our mailing list.

Next time: The NerdKicks logo, and why I should not become a graphic designer.

 

*I may or may not run the @WinningEdits Twitter feed. I'll never tell.

Milestones

My commute into Philadelphia each day takes 45 minutes, and on the days I'm not fast asleep, I occupy myself during the train ride with comedy podcasts and loud music—anything to wake me up and get me in a good mood. On the mornings I forget my iPod or can't even muster the energy to listen to music, I get roundly mocked by my cheerful coworkers—worse than morning people, they're hospitality professionals—able to front a good morning game even if they're running on only 90 minutes of sleep. I, on the other hand, make a beeline each morning for our cafe. Door. Coffee. My brain can handle only so much before 10:00 a.m.

Most days I choose podcasts, but back in 2009 I went through a loud music phase, listening to American Idiot and Stadium Arcadium, while trying to convince myself my life was on the right track. A phrase from one song, "Make You Feel Better," stuck in my head:

"Dreams so wide like a country mile."

I grew up in rural Minnesota, near to my small town but far from a city. Any drive took us past farmers' fields; neighbors growing sweet corn that we'd pay for by leaving dollar bills in the on-your-honor coffee can. The song came up on my playlist each morning as the train pulled into Philly's 30th Street Station, but in my mind's eye I pictured a lonely stretch of County Road 39—the signal that I was almost home, to our little brown house on Clearwater Lake.

Those words, the opening to a peppy song about feeling better, made me profoundly sad. My dreams barely stretched the length of a Philly food cart, and could be summed up as, "Don't get fired. Move back to Minnesota as soon as possible."

The phrase stuck in my head, a sliver too thin and invisible to pull out. I listened to the song each morning until it was the only song, a playlist of one, and each morning I interrogated myself about potential dreams. Anything I conjured up was indistinct, fuzzy around the edges. They weren't real but merely what I thought my dreams ought to be. It took well over a month of daily musing before I found the answer. My dream: to have dreams as wide as a country mile.

I still remember the pale, gray morning sky peeking over the Market Street skyscrapers. It wasn't much, but it would do. My only dream was to have dreams. It was a beginning, and I instantly felt better.

***

I've spent a lot of time over the last month meditiating on the idea of permission. I envy people with the innate confidence to dream something and then do it, no stopping to see if anyone approves. I'm inherently a permission-seeker; a rule-following, people-pleasing Midwestern girl, always waiting for someone to give me the go-ahead on my ideas. I'm a sidekick rather than a hero.

In so many ways, you've given me permission to pursue my aspirations. Your friendship and feedback regarding the Accidental Creative and Nerdist columns mean so very much to me. From our silly Twitter conversations, posts like Scott's, and through requests for collaboration, you're teaching me that I can trust my instincts. That perhaps I don't need anyone's permission but my own.

My default, when I feel scared, is to wait for someone to validate my idea before I move forward. I've prepared myself by making this the cover of my 2012 planning notebook:

Permission granted.

***

Monday morning found me in an inordinately good mood. I'd spent the weekend building and writing, I'd had several good project collaborations, and I was wearing a kickass pair of black boots. The thought came in to my head as I pushed through the revolving door out on to Market: I had dreams. A lot of dreams—dreams for my writing and creating, dreams for the way I want to live my life, dreams for the people I want as a part of my life—dreams so wide, like a country mile.

I'm not where I want to be, but for the first time ever, I feel like I know where I'm headed. And that makes me feel better.

#30DaysofGratitude: Risks, Nerdist, and You

Well, this was a surprise:

http://www.bbcamerica.com/anglophenia/2011/12/top-5-nerdist-podcasts-of-2011-no-5-a-visit-from-a-wise-craftsperson-bearing-gifts/

Perry, the editor over at Nerdist.com listed my appearance on the Nerdist podcast as the #5 episode of the year, as the representative for all the year's hostful podcasts. Where did he list it? On the BBC America Anglophenia website, meaning that my name appeared on something associated with the BBC, and with that I have lived up to all Childhood Mindy, the biggest anglophile in Central Minnesota, could ever have wished for.

I'll be taking the rest of the year off.

As my gratitude project winds down (only four days to go), I can think of no better subject to reflect on than my experience with Chris, the Nerdist, and the domino reaction that has followed.

A year ago in December, I was struggling to love my job. We were understaffed in the accounting area and the burden fell to me to pick up the slack. Only my steady diet of podcasts separated me from a major meltdown. One particularly stressful afternoon (chat records show that it was 12/10/2010), I decided to look up the Comedy Death Ray silent auctions for the LA Food Bank.

I'd like the record to reflect that I eat lunch at this time each day.

I made the bid impulsively. Something in my gut said "go for it, it'll break you out of this funk." You know what? It worked—but not just for that day, it broke me out of the four year long funk I'd been living in, ever since I got fired and moved to Philly.

I took a risk that day, a risk that I'd have enough confidence to sit down and talk to people I admired, as well as a risk of some money. Believe me, that was a sizeable amount of cash for me. I don't buy stuff just because I want it. I own shirts older than some of our company's employees*, I buy/download one CD a year (this year's was a best of Nickel Creek), we live in a small apartment. I try to live frugally so that I can take advantage of experiences that will have an impact on me long after the item has been consumed.

Boy, did this ever hit the mark!

Succeeding on the first part of the risk—winning the auction—felt great! More importantly, the anticipation and worry I felt while waiting for the auction to close seemed to shake me awake. I'd been living a careful, boring life, letting other people make decisions for me about where to live, how to spend my free time, where to go on vacation (hence the note about the cruise).

My risk had paid off. Would others? Instead of telling myself "Oh, I can't do that," I started asking "Why not do that?"

• Why not, while I was corresponding with Chris Hardwick, ask if I could write for his site? Enter the Make Cool Stuff column.
• Why not ask a maker acquaintence if I could write about his company? It became my first Nerdist post and was picked up by my favorite daily read, the Mental_Floss Watercooler Ammo email.
• Why not start corresponding with strangers that reached out to me on Twitter? Enter Emily and Mandy, my first Twitter friends that I didn't know (and now there are so many of you).
• Why not ask to join favorite podcaster Todd Henry's book promotion street team? It gave me the opportunity to meet him in person and help out when the flight to his book launch got canceled.
• Why not say yes when Todd asked me to write for his site? I got to write a series, work with an editor who has become a great friend, and subsequently become a member of the Accidental Creative online team.

Day-to-day life also improved. My job turned around, I started dressing better, I found a decent hairstylist. I started treating myself like I mattered and sticking up for myself rather than deferring to the status quo.

Most importantly—I can't give this enough credit—I started listening my instincts. Periodically a situation would pop up and I would have a very strong gut reaction of which way to go, one that I usually ignored in favor of solid reasoning. Again and again this year, honoring that gut reaction has paid off. I've started listening/feeling for it, and when it pops up, I take a moment to pay attention.

2011 has been the best year of my adult life—it's been the first year where I really felt like an adult. Before this year, growing up sounded awful, the end to spontenaiety and picking up the burden of responsibility. I was wrong. Becoming an adult has meant taking control of my life, making purposeful decisions and taking calculated risks. It hasn't meant giving up my playful spirit—I've been far more spontaneous and silly than the six post-college years that preceded 2011.

And all this before I even showed up in Los Angeles to be on the podcast. That, it turned out, was just the icing on the cake. I'd gotten my money's worth long before I sat down in front of the microphone, publicly insulted the lovely city of Philadelphia, and subsequently met all of you through the internet. I am most sincere when I tell you that I love you all.

2011 was my kick-in-the-ass year. 2012 will by my kicking ass year, to put it ever so eloquently. I've just gotten my taste of powers under a yellow sun.

If you're in need of a little motivation for the coming year, I offer you two pieces I kept returning to throughout the year, a blog post from Chris and a podcast from Todd. After that taste, I urge you to buy both of their books—Chris's to get you moving and Todd's to help you put together a creative rhythm. Todd's in particular has made a major difference in my life (see above AC series).

Oh, and I found this at the end of that chat transcript with Andrew: 

 

*My favorite tshirt is 24 years old.

#30DaysofGratitude: Building Habits

A stack of cards ready to go out

Today is Day 18, over halfway through 30 Days of Gratitude. I'm thrilled to report that I've written a full 18 thank you notes so far, although my writing practice has not been daily. Instead, I've written in sprints, completing several cards at a time.

My greatest struggle is keeping up the practice of daily writing, and is at the top of my 2012 First Quarter priority list. Little projects like these are an excellent nudge to keep me on track.

My favorite card so far, from Black Heart Letterpress

As I write the thank you cards, I've been asking myself the following questions:

• Who taught me a new skill?
• Who gave me an unexpected opportunity?
• Who helped me view my world in a new light?
• Who showed me kindness?

I find that as I'm writing one card, the idea for the next recipient pops into my mind. I reach the end of the card and I don't want to stop writing. As I go through my day, the little moments of kindness stand out more clearly. Gratitude begets gratitude.

Andrew and I got into an argument earlier this week that stemmed from a lingering lack of gratitude. We spend so much time together that we forget to acknowledge each other, to say thank you, to go beyond saying"I love you" and actually express it in deeds. Neglect begets anger.

As I review 2011, both to express my gratitude and to craft my goals for 2012, I see the ways in which small actions and risks have big results. My approach to 2011 was chaotic, drifting from one whim to another. I'm excited to take the lessons I've learned from 2011's successes and failures and put them to work building purposeful habits for 2012. Just as writing daily, exercising, and eating right are important habits, so too is the daily expression of gratitude.

Do me a favor, right now. Step away from the computer, give someone you love a hug and say "thank you, I appreciate you."