If you want to see what my Spiral Method sessions look like, below is the raw, unedited zeroth draft for my article “Strategies for Stability.” The numbers match the answers to the corresponding questions (e.g. A1 is the answer to Q1). The starred items (*) are ideas that popped into my head, not directly related to any question.
Nugget: People change in order to remain the same. That is, we will change something less important in order to maintain something that is more important.
Q1. How does changing help stay the same?
Q2. Can you give a few examples?
Q3. How can I keep something stable?
Q4. Is this the only reason to change?
Q5. Is this the only way to stay the same?
A1. To keep something the same, we change less important things that either isolate the important thing from change or absorb the change.
A horse’s gait changes when the pressure on its bones reaches one third of the pressure it can handle. The gait change reduces the pressure.
Q6. What about as the horse slows down? Why change gait then?
Q7. Are isolating and absorbing the only reasons for change?
Q8. Are they the only strategies for stability?
* Stability is a problem only when some force acts to cause a change. We can maintain things indefinitely if no force is acting on them.
Q9. How can I use this principle to reduce resistance?
A2. Examples: Drop three low-priority projects in order to sustain progress on high-priority projects.
Rewrite software to take advantage of new technology in order to maintain responsiveness and growth.
Temporarily stop looking for a job, and instead upgrade skills, in order to maintain marketability.
Lower prices in order to maintain market share.
A8: Another way to maintain stability: Adapt to changes in the environment, so that the environment supports the new configuration — or at least doesn’t threaten it.
Three ways to keep something stable:
Isolate
Absorb
Adapt
* Gain or maintain something we value even more.
A4. I believe that the only reason we change is to maintain something more important.
Q10. What about when I change jobs in order to get a raise? That isn’t about maintaining anything.
A5. The only way to maintain something in the face of a threatening force is to change something less important — something that will isolate the more important thing from teh change, absorb the force and dissipate it, or adapt to the change in the environment.
A8. As far as I can tell, these are the only three ways:
Absorb: Convert the force into less harmful forms or more useful forms.
Apply some energy to revert the environment. This takes energy that you could have used for something else. I see that as a form of adaptation.
Absorb (from the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary): Include or take (a thing) in so that it no longer has separate existence; incorporate. Gain energy from and reduce the intensity of.
Adapt (from SOED): Fit, adjust. Alter or modify to fit a new use, new conditions.
Isolate (from SOED): Place or set apart or alone; separate from or unconnected with other things.
I’ve written four articles using The Spiral Method, and I’ve been delightfully surprised every time.
I first used The Spiral Method in January, to write the zeroth draft that would become “Strategies for Stability.” I spiraled for a few minutes, and was amazed at quickly The Spiral Method helps me to move my ideas out of my head and onto paper. (Yes, I write my zeroth drafts on paper.) I was also surprised to learn how much material I have floating around in my head behind each of the nuggets I want to write about.
I spent several hours revising. When I was done, I got my next surprise: The nugget that I originally wanted to write about — “People change in order to remain the same.” — was nowhere to be found in the finished article. I’d had that thought in my nugget file for years. Yet while I was spiraling I stumbled onto a question that I wasn’t able to answer, and now I’m no longer sure I believe that initial claim. Somehow, in spiraling and revising, I took the article somewhere I hadn’t foreseen when I started. I was tickled by that.
I next used The Spiral Method for “Tests for Listening.” Before I sat down to write I knew the four “listening tests” that I wanted to write about. I guessed that I’d write about a hundred words about each, plus an introduction and conclusion — maybe 500 words for the whole article. I spiraled on each listening test, revised the zeroth draft into a publishable article, and — surprise! — 1000 words! Who knew I had that much to say? I checked it twice to make sure I hadn’t inserted lots of fluff. Nope.
I worried that 1000 words is a little long for a blog entry. But that’s what it came to, so that’s what I published. It wasn’t so long ago that I couldn’t imagine how to write a 1000 word article. Now I may have a hard time keeping my articles short! I guess that’s progress.
When I sat down last week for my third Spiral Writing session, I thought I knew what I wanted to write about: Needs are more important than wants. I’ve had that idea in my nugget file for years, and finally wanted to write about it. But what I wrote at the top of the page was, “Needs come from wants.” Similar, but not the same. This zeroth draft eventually led to “Testing Needs and Wants.” When the article was done, I noticed once again that not only was the original nugget missing, I was no longer sure I believed it. The Spiral Method, it seems, is a great way to destroy the ideas I’ve loved for years!
As I was revising “Testing Needs and Wants,” I noticed that the article included lots of background material about the structure of values. Too much. It distracted from the distinctions I really wanted to highlight between needs and wants. So I sliced the background stuff into an article on its own, “The Structure of Values.” What a lovely side-effect of writing the needs and wants article! I’d known for months that I would eventually write an article about the structure of values, and here it was.
So this one Spiral Method writing session led to two full articles, each bordering on “too long for blogland” — 2000 words in total. I’m a little nervous about spiraling again. I’m having visions of accidentally unleashing The Blog that Ate Manhattan. (But I’m safe here in Sacramento. I think.)
That’s what I’ve learned so far. The Spiral Method helps me to put my ideas onto paper more quickly and with greater ease than I thought possible. It encourages me to question my ideas and create new ones that I like even better. And it gives me confidence that I have plenty to say.
One night in late December, as I was falling asleep, I had a thought about how to flesh out ideas for articles. I sat up, grabbed a pen and an index card from the stack I keep next to the bed, and wrote:
Write the nugget.
Then write the implications of the nugget.
Then support the nugget.
I was excited about this idea, because though I am quite good at inventing nuggets — the central claims that make me want to write articles in the first place — I struggle with the rest of the writing process, the process of growing a nugget into an article worth writing. I keep forgetting the simple principles that every other author surely knows: Say why this claim is worth reading, and justify the claim. Writing those two simple principles gave me a way to remember, and a way to build articles from nuggets.
The next night, as I was falling asleep, I refined the previous night’s thought:
Write the nugget.
Write any questions I want to ask about what I have written so far.
Answer one question. Return to step 2.
This new version generalizes on the first. The earlier version says to ask and answer two questions: So what? and What makes you so sure? The new version extends that to any question, giving me even more ways to build the article. I liked this new version even better.
On the third night, as I was falling asleep, I refined again, resulting in a process that I call The Spiral Method for Writing Zeroth Drafts:
Write the nugget.
Write any questions I want to ask about what I have written so far.
Select the question that I have the most energy for answering, and answer it. Return to step 2.
Stop when I’ve answered all of the questions, or when I have little energy to answer any of the unanswered questions.
I liked this version better still, especially the focus on energy as the key criterion for what to write and when to stop. Focusing on energy ensures that each bit I write not only supports the central idea, but also adds some zing.
So far, I’ve used the Spiral Method three times. Each time, I created enough material for a full article (or two!) in about 30 minutes. Next came hours of editing to shape each zeroth draft into publishable form. The result: four articles and lots of surprises.
Several days after I created the Spiral Method I realized that I’d been inspired by Mark Forster’s process for growing an article, which I’d learned about through Keith Ray’s blog entry of November 30. To grow an article, Mark writes a single sentence, then revises it until the article is done.
As you can see, both Mark’s approach and mine start with a core idea and build outward. The Spiral Method has a little more structure than Marks approach, and I find that I need that additional bit of structure. Alternating between questions and answers, using my energy as a guide, keeps my ideas flowing, while providing lots of opportunity for discovery and surprise.
Though I developed the Spiral Method for myself, I’d be delighted to find that it works for you, too. I’d be even more delighted to learn how you’re using it.
I often see project teams, as they define the requirements for the project, use the words “want” and “need” to sort essential requirements from nonessential. The needs are the essential requirements, critical to project success, and the wants are non-essential. If we find out that we can’t satisfy all of the requirements, we’ll jettison some of the wants and focus on the needs.
This simple distinction between wants and needs has the advantage of allowing speedy triage. We gain that speed by trusting the unexamined and risky assumption that needs are more important than wants.
But hold on… The risky assumption that needs are more important than wants? Needs are more important than wants. Aren’t they?
Sort of. Most of the time. Often enough to lull us into believing that “needs versus wants” is a good way to sort requirements.
Labeling requirements simply as wants or needs hides at least as much information as it expresses. Each requirement, whether we call it a need or a want, is a value. Like any value, a requirement gains its importance through a rich web of beliefs and values called a Value Hierarchy. When we quickly label requirements as wants or needs, and quickly sort the requirements under the assumption that needs are obviously more important than wants, we leave unexplored the rich web of beliefs and values that motivates the requirements in the first place. If we act on requirements without testing the underlying beliefs and values, we increase our danger of solving the wrong problem, and of wasting precious time, money, and attention.
What leads us to think of needs as more important than wants? To explain that, I’ll need to describe how I think about wants and needs.
In their noun forms, the words want and value mean the same thing: a condition that we desire. Wants, then, are organized into Value Hierarchies — each want becomes a want precisely because we believe it leads to some other condition that we desire even more. Each want is a means to an end.
I see needs as special kinds of desired conditions — that is, as special kinds of wants. Like other wants, each need is a means to some more important end. What distinguishes needs from other wants is that a need implies necessity, our belief that the means is necessary if we are to achieve the end. If I want to attend a conference in Boston, I need to go to Boston. Given my desire to attend the conference, going to Boston becomes a need.
Not all wants are needs. If I want to go to Boston, I might choose buy an airplane ticket. But I don’t need to buy a plane ticket. I could instead travel to Boston by car or by train. Buying a ticket is a possible means to the end, but not a necessary means. So buying a plane ticket is a want, but not a need.
A need, then, is made up of three elements:
A deeper value.
Our belief that satisfying the need will satisfy the deeper value, or contribute to satisfying it.
Our belief that we can satisfy the deeper value only by satisfying the need.
It’s the third element, the element of necessity, that distinguishes needs from other wants. And it’s that additional element that leads us to consider needs more important than other wants.
So now I’ve shown that needs are more important than wants, right? Well, yes, with important conditions: A need is more important than a want if the value underlying the need is more important than the value underlying the want, and if the beliefs underlying the need are reliable. Those conditions are important. If we lull ourselves into believing that all needs are (obviously) more important than wants, we forget to test the underlying values and beliefs. And sometimes those values and beliefs don’t hold up under scrutiny.
If we’re going to claim that this requirement is more important than that one, we owe it to ourselves to explicitly test the values and beliefs by which we assign the requirements their importance.
What can happen if we choose to leave those beliefs and values tacit? Here’s an example of a time when I focused so much on something I thought I needed that I didn’t bother to ask myself what problem I was solving.
I was writing a conference paper about resistance, and I kept referring to “the person you are asking to change.” I got tired of writing that, and it seemed like an awkward phrase to repeat so often. I tried the word “client,” but that didn’t seem quite right. So I wrote to a group of writer friends, and said, “I need a better word.” They offered lots of ideas, but I wasn’t entirely happy with any of them. (I was happy that nobody suggested the word “target,” a metaphor that I do not want to promote.)
Finally, Jerry Weinberg said, “What’s wrong with ‘person’?”
I tried “person,” and it fit nicely in some places, and awkwardly in others. I was stumped. So I asked myself, “What is wrong with ‘person’? What am I trying to do here? What problem am I trying to solve with a better word?”
As I looked closer at what I was writing, I noticed that the reason I was repeating “the person you are asking to change” so often was that I was trying to avoid the awkward “him or her.” Aha! My real goal was to find words that were both gender-inclusive and graceful. By focusing so intently on my “need” for a better word, I had distracted myself from discovering my real goal, the deeper value. Once I realized that my real goal was to find graceful gender-inclusive terms, I solve the problem easily.
I think you’ll agree that this example is relatively harmless. I wasted a few hours of my time, and perhaps a few hours of my friends’ time. Not a major disaster.
But what if something similar happens on your projects, on your requirements? What if the deeper need behind some “critical” requirement turns out not to be very important after all? What if the requirement will not really satisfy the underlying need? What if there are better ways to satisfy the underlying need? What if you discover these problems only after you spend precious time, money, and attention to implement the requirement?
Don’t let your need to quickly sort requirements distract you from understanding the requirements more fully. Take the time — especially for the requirements that you are sure are “needs” — to test your underlying beliefs and values. What underlying value motivates this requirement? Will implementing this requirement really satisfy the underlying value? What makes us think so? Is this requirement necessary, or might there be simpler, less costly ways to satisfy the underlying need?