The choice I face today as an entrepreneur is how far/how fast. What are my requirements, my needs, my hopes, my expectations? I'm at a pause. Not that I'm standing still. It's more like I've hiked to a vantage; I'm taking a few deep breaths to survey the scape around me.
We made this choice as a family to leave behind HELL.A. (the "hel" is silent), to find a nice place in the midwest, where we could afford to be home owners again, near family (at least my inlaws), near the water (so we could go sailing again sometime), where the air is cleaner than we had, where the pace is gentler, where neighborhoods have sidewalks, and neighbors say "hello" to each other, and lend out garden tools just because. We've found that place. We're very happy here, enjoying the spring (despite the frequent heavy rains).
But where to, and when, and how? A week ago, I submitted a grant proposal for funding to support the work I'm already doing. I've been honing and focusing my efforts. If I get the grant, that buys us another year or two (at least for us alone, though it won't allow me to hire employees). I'm working on my patent application. Patents are like diplomas, they're nice to have but relatively meaningless in themselves.
What I need is a product. What I need is a plan. I remind myself of a debate that I've summed up before as the opposition in outlooks between the composers Haydn and Dvořák. Haydn for his part viewed the essential task of music, its mark of genius, to reside in devising a fine melody. Dvořák considered the melody the easy part, believing rather that musical genius was in the treatment of a melody, not its creation.
Both of these masters were abundantly skilled at producing memorable melodies. I find myself more in the latter camp however. It's interesting to note the differences of their circumstances. Haydn spent a career as a court composer, sustained, supported, directed by a wealthy patron. His freedom to compose derived from his relative lack of worries. Dvořák toiled. He picked up temporary and part-time gigs, applied for grants and stipends to permit his continued efforts.
They present not only a difference in philosophy, but a difference as models for an entrepreneur. Do I wish to seek the comfort and stability that comes from raising capital (or taking a job), in exchange for releasing some of my creative direction, or do I wish to continue along a path of great freedom, in exchange for releasing financial comfort and stability? In the end I may reach the same point. Both masters' music lives on.
There are as many journeys as there are feet to tread them. For now my path lies before me. RocketMom is here to hold my hand, join the discussion at times, offer her advice. She begins to say we rather than you (as in "maybe we're not ready to hire someone full-time" or "we can wait a couple months to see if we get this grant"). I like that.
Perhaps I'm a bit afraid that if I leap too fast (by seeking investors now), the research and its applications will get away from me. It's not so much that I fear delegating, that I'm afraid to share decisions, that I don't recognize that others may be better qualified or equipped than I to make certain sorts of decisions. It's more that I don't wish to be hasty. It's just not yet time. There is no rush.
Ah... I think I'll take that path over there down the mountain. I like the way it looks.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
Post-partum
It was a rather intense three weeks, preparing the grant proposal. Then, it was done. What might happen?
I explained to RocketMom that I feel like I'm in my old darkroom. Once you select the frame, and adjust the cropping, place and expose the paper, burn and dodge as you like, then gently glide it in the alkaline developer tray, you catch your breath until that moment when the image in silver halides begins magically to appear.
I'm caught in that moment. I'm in a Groundhog Day dream, terminating just before that crucial event. What might happen?
No... I don't need this. But what next? I have a new priority now: my patent application. Deadline set by the end of the summer. That's three long months. According to Gaisma, we're in the summer solstice locally.
More intense effort. Don't get me wrong: this is what I wish to be doing at this point in my life. But there are times when the path weighs heavily on me.
I mentioned the other day that I'm reading about the making of Pixar as inspiration. Long time readers will recall that a bit more than a year ago I read part of the story in Droidmaker, by Michael Rubin. Problem is, I'm not sure just whom I'm emulating.
See, the folks who made computer animated films a reality (Ed Catmull, Alvy Ray Smith, John Lasseter, et al) were not exactly entrepreneurs. They had the spirit, the commitment, the ideas, but... they also had that rare and wonderful commodity: wealthy sponsors. First, it was Alexander Schure, then George Lucas, and finally Steve Jobs. They... those last three, they were the entrepreneurs. But, I can't say they're my role models.
David Price, in The Pixar Touch, writes (p. 62): "The trouble at Lucasfilm was that Lucas wanted his computer graphics experts to be Isaacs, the inventor, while they wanted to be Muybridge, the artist...". My problem is, I wish to be the inventor and the entrepreneur.
It's not that the thought of a rich patron doesn't at times appeal to me. It's mostly that I've given up holding my breath. I look at job listings, wondering if there isn't somewhere a position just right for me (like there was for Catmull and Smith and Lasseter). But that phone has yet to ring out of the blue, inviting me to head a new lab. For now, and likely for good, I'm on my own.
I just hope, someday soon, to have the resources to hire some others to join me. Even the best climbers wouldn't tackle a mountain alone.
I explained to RocketMom that I feel like I'm in my old darkroom. Once you select the frame, and adjust the cropping, place and expose the paper, burn and dodge as you like, then gently glide it in the alkaline developer tray, you catch your breath until that moment when the image in silver halides begins magically to appear.
I'm caught in that moment. I'm in a Groundhog Day dream, terminating just before that crucial event. What might happen?
No... I don't need this. But what next? I have a new priority now: my patent application. Deadline set by the end of the summer. That's three long months. According to Gaisma, we're in the summer solstice locally.
| Date | Sunrise | Sunset | Length | Change |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Today | 05:13 | 20:33 | 15:20 | |
| +1 day | 05:13 | 20:33 | 15:20 | 00:00 equal length |
More intense effort. Don't get me wrong: this is what I wish to be doing at this point in my life. But there are times when the path weighs heavily on me.
I mentioned the other day that I'm reading about the making of Pixar as inspiration. Long time readers will recall that a bit more than a year ago I read part of the story in Droidmaker, by Michael Rubin. Problem is, I'm not sure just whom I'm emulating.
See, the folks who made computer animated films a reality (Ed Catmull, Alvy Ray Smith, John Lasseter, et al) were not exactly entrepreneurs. They had the spirit, the commitment, the ideas, but... they also had that rare and wonderful commodity: wealthy sponsors. First, it was Alexander Schure, then George Lucas, and finally Steve Jobs. They... those last three, they were the entrepreneurs. But, I can't say they're my role models.
David Price, in The Pixar Touch, writes (p. 62): "The trouble at Lucasfilm was that Lucas wanted his computer graphics experts to be Isaacs, the inventor, while they wanted to be Muybridge, the artist...". My problem is, I wish to be the inventor and the entrepreneur.
It's not that the thought of a rich patron doesn't at times appeal to me. It's mostly that I've given up holding my breath. I look at job listings, wondering if there isn't somewhere a position just right for me (like there was for Catmull and Smith and Lasseter). But that phone has yet to ring out of the blue, inviting me to head a new lab. For now, and likely for good, I'm on my own.
I just hope, someday soon, to have the resources to hire some others to join me. Even the best climbers wouldn't tackle a mountain alone.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Reminder
Painter: Mommy, does daddy really sneak in here every night and give us extra kisses?I don't think I'll have to.
Mommy: Yes, he does... well, maybe not every night.
Painter: Daddy, when I'm a daddy, you'll have to... you'll have to remind me to kiss my boys, too.
Seared Ahi Tuna with Mango-Pepper salad
Ingredients:
The mango-pepper chutney was devoured by our pepper-loving (won't touch most other fruits and vegetables) Painter. Chalk that up as success.
- ~1 lb. of Ahi Tuna steaks
- ~1 cup of minced peppers (use several kinds)
- ~1/2 cup of diced fresh fruit (mangoes, peaches, apricots)
- 2 tbs. thinly sliced green onions or chives
- 1/4 c. olive oil
- 1 tbs sesame oil
- 1 tsp. sesame seeds
- juice of half a lemon, half a lime, half an orange
- 1 tsp. fresh minced garlic
- 1 tbs. fresh grated ginger
- 2 tbs. soy sauce
- 2 tbs. rice wine vinegar (or apple cider vinegar)
- 1/8 tsp. wasabi powder
- fresh greens (lettuce, arugula, radicchio)
- fresh sprouts
- cherry tomatoes
The mango-pepper chutney was devoured by our pepper-loving (won't touch most other fruits and vegetables) Painter. Chalk that up as success.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Submitted
This morning, at around 4:00am local time, while I slept soundly, my previously uploaded and complete application silently became a submitted proposal. All told, it's worth about $150,000 and 12 months of effort... that is, if it's funded. Now it's on to the next project.
I spent a few hours the past couple days in the garden, getting a bed ready for vegetables, though it's already late in the season to get started.
The next priority is preparing and filing a patent application. Simultaneous with that, I need to start investigating other grant opportunities to support research and development.
This has been a good process for me, clarifying my ideas, specifying applications. The more I have delved into current efforts, the more I become convinced of the value of my own ideas. The trick is figuring out a way to realize them in practical applications.
I picked up a copy of The Pixar Touch: The Making of a Company, by David A. Price, for inspiration. It's a model for me. There are similarities in what I'm trying to do, in a different domain. Can I do it on my own? No way of telling just yet. But shy of making friends with the next Steve Jobs, or giving up, I haven't a choice.
I spent a few hours the past couple days in the garden, getting a bed ready for vegetables, though it's already late in the season to get started.
The next priority is preparing and filing a patent application. Simultaneous with that, I need to start investigating other grant opportunities to support research and development.
This has been a good process for me, clarifying my ideas, specifying applications. The more I have delved into current efforts, the more I become convinced of the value of my own ideas. The trick is figuring out a way to realize them in practical applications.
I picked up a copy of The Pixar Touch: The Making of a Company, by David A. Price, for inspiration. It's a model for me. There are similarities in what I'm trying to do, in a different domain. Can I do it on my own? No way of telling just yet. But shy of making friends with the next Steve Jobs, or giving up, I haven't a choice.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Darned if I didn't think I'd shut that door!
Ain't it always that way? The call came during the entrepreneurship conference. Actually there was a voice mail that I returned. The school is 7 hours' drive from here. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) there are no direct flights, so travel by plane would likely still take 5 hours or more, what with travel to and from regional airports and arriving early for departure.[Door knocks]
Me: Hello?
Tasse: Hi, AD... it's Tasse Plein. I got a call from June Strawberry. They're looking to hire someone to cover some classes. It's a one-year appointment. Don't know if it's long term, but they've got an overflow of students. If they continue to have an overflow... well, you were the first person I thought of. I know you said you'd had enough, and I respect that. I just still think you'd do a great job.
It's hard to say, still hard to say, but it's not really what I'm seeking now. I just don't want to burn any bridges. It's not that I'm no longer interested in the academy. In some ways, I'm irredeemably connected. "One foot in/one foot out". I may shut the door, but it's ever in sight. You never know when the knock will come, or when I'll choose to open it up, to see if the courtyard appears at all changed.
_______________________
I've been doing more and more searches on the internet, mostly "prior art" searches, trying to uncover the known universe of research in my area. People are looking at the geography for sure. They're just not using my tools. I am increasingly assured of that. There's a patent to be had, with little problem I'm sure.
But, as was hammered home at this conference: patents don't make sales... products make sales. "And why are sales important?" you may ask. Fair enough question. I mean it's all about the research, about asking interesting questions, finding answers, right? Why climb the mountain? Because it's there, right?
Ah, yes... but you can't climb a mountain without the necessary equipment and resources. Years ago, foolishly convinced by a friend, I entered a bicycle race. I hadn't trained. Not a bit. I rode my bike daily, wasn't that enough. Humiliation. You need to have the resources and the stamina. What gives a researcher resources and stamina? Ah... there's the rub.
See, as you will recall, I have no institutional affiliation, no academic support network. I have no foundation, no trust, no lab. I have my trusty "Moose" and my home office. And I've got ideas. Oh have I got ideas. But ideas alone won't pay the mortgage. And I've got a limited time to live off savings.
I met a lot of investors at the conference. What's your 30-second commercial? Do you have an "elevator speech"? Repeatedly I heard something along the lines of "it's not the technology, it's the revenue". The trick, the real trick is to make us both happy. What they want desperately to give me is the resources to succeed, so long as they get what they want in return. We may differ on how we define success... but that doesn't mean our definitions are mutually exclusive. To the contrary, by making them happy, I'm more likely to ensure I've got the resources to keep it all going for thirty years.
See, that's my goal. Get me to 70! Then I'll reassess. But how to get there? Everyone who got where they are... started where they were. Indeed! I've no aversion to success, even financial or business success. I'm fine with that. It's just not my motivation. What I want is to remain true to what I hold dear. Knowledge, inquiry. Ask important and interesting questions. Propel human understanding forward.
Now, from the investor's standpoint: so what? Fine, they've different motivations. But I still have to answer that so what. What problems are you solving? That's a good question for us researchers. It's fine to climb a mountain because it's there. But if one particular mountain lies between my cache of food and a starving village, there's a bit more impetus to the project. Nice thing is: I get to climb the mountain either way. So I begin to ask myself these questions. In finding the answers to them, I'll discover the best paths to take at this stage of the journey.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Brief hiatus
Friday afternoon, I took a brief hiatus (about an hour) from grant writing, so I could prime the walls in the basement family room (and pantry wall). Today, we took advantage of a break in the rains, to head over to a local building supply store, and pick up the baseboards, quarter rounds, and shelving hardware. We never got around to putting on the first coat of paint. My mother-in-law will be coming up tomorrow, and my father-in-law on Tuesday (they have conflicting schedules -- though they're both retired now).
I'll be away at an entrepreneurs' conference both days. It'll be my first of that variety. I'm looking forward to it, though I have no idea whether I'll find much interesting, or much tedious. I certainly wouldn't be terribly interested in hearing about how one fellow got rich building laundromats, or some gal learned how to buy and flip rental properties. That's not exactly my kind of entrepreneurship. But then, maybe it's not most people's. I couldn't really say. I'm feeling like an outsider again.
But for me, being an outsider is a good feeling. I like being on the edge, listening in, taking my view from a different place, having something unusual to contribute to the conversation. I learned that in junior high school, those many years ago. I had had a rough time in elementary school... a really rough time. I was small, always the smallest. And I was young, younger than all but one very sweet (and very smart) Korean-American girl (I hear in Korea you're considered 1 at birth -- apparently counting gestation as a first year -- any insight, Soo? -- so there may have been some discrepancy in translation).
In any case, I joined the group in second grade, having missed two years of socializing with my cohorts. Somehow, that lead to my becoming an outcast. I had three or four friends until fifth grade. Mostly, I was known as it and thing. I learned self-reliance, self-respect, self-confidence. I had to. In junior high, I learned to blend, to be a chameleon, always to be almost a part of many cliques, never quite a member of any of them, but never fully excluded. I think that's lived with me until now.
I suppose that has contributed to my comfort with interdisciplinarity. Who wants to be fully entrenched in one discipline, when you can find a territory to lay claim to that lies between several? I wrote a lot about the dangers and challenges of this approach, and also its benefits, on my old blog. And now, I've left academia. I'm an outsider there, and an outsider in business.
I like being a researcher/entrepreneur. I like the prospects that appear on my horizon. This just may work. I may be able to carve this territory for myself, find a way to make a living at it, keep it self-sustaining, and fully regain my dignity, which has been creeping back after the relentless suction of four years wandering a zombie among the forgotten and abandoned PhDs.
I'm looking forward now. Enjoying every way station. Enjoying my time. Enjoying my life. Enjoying the rains and the storms. Enjoying my house. Enjoying my family. Life really is good.
I'll be away at an entrepreneurs' conference both days. It'll be my first of that variety. I'm looking forward to it, though I have no idea whether I'll find much interesting, or much tedious. I certainly wouldn't be terribly interested in hearing about how one fellow got rich building laundromats, or some gal learned how to buy and flip rental properties. That's not exactly my kind of entrepreneurship. But then, maybe it's not most people's. I couldn't really say. I'm feeling like an outsider again.
But for me, being an outsider is a good feeling. I like being on the edge, listening in, taking my view from a different place, having something unusual to contribute to the conversation. I learned that in junior high school, those many years ago. I had had a rough time in elementary school... a really rough time. I was small, always the smallest. And I was young, younger than all but one very sweet (and very smart) Korean-American girl (I hear in Korea you're considered 1 at birth -- apparently counting gestation as a first year -- any insight, Soo? -- so there may have been some discrepancy in translation).
In any case, I joined the group in second grade, having missed two years of socializing with my cohorts. Somehow, that lead to my becoming an outcast. I had three or four friends until fifth grade. Mostly, I was known as it and thing. I learned self-reliance, self-respect, self-confidence. I had to. In junior high, I learned to blend, to be a chameleon, always to be almost a part of many cliques, never quite a member of any of them, but never fully excluded. I think that's lived with me until now.
I suppose that has contributed to my comfort with interdisciplinarity. Who wants to be fully entrenched in one discipline, when you can find a territory to lay claim to that lies between several? I wrote a lot about the dangers and challenges of this approach, and also its benefits, on my old blog. And now, I've left academia. I'm an outsider there, and an outsider in business.
I like being a researcher/entrepreneur. I like the prospects that appear on my horizon. This just may work. I may be able to carve this territory for myself, find a way to make a living at it, keep it self-sustaining, and fully regain my dignity, which has been creeping back after the relentless suction of four years wandering a zombie among the forgotten and abandoned PhDs.
I'm looking forward now. Enjoying every way station. Enjoying my time. Enjoying my life. Enjoying the rains and the storms. Enjoying my house. Enjoying my family. Life really is good.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
The never-ending proposal
I feel I'm making progress. I know I am. But this whole endeavor is quite exhausting. More than 6000 words on the page. (I've probably edited out more than twice that already). I'm putting my best foot forward. The deeper I get into the process, not only of preparing this federal grant proposal, but of building the business, the more I believe in it. I've been doing almost daily searches, including multiple keyword searches of issued patents and published applications. Mostly, I'm on my own in the research domain, and that's exciting. I feel like I've entered a massive field of stones, and all have been turned over... but one! When there is something remotely similar to what I'm doing, it's not too hard for me to see through a lacuna in that work. I remain convinced that what I'm proposing is indeed novel and valuable. And yet, I remain on the cusp.
The proposal I've been putting together would be a first step, giving me a real salary for conducting the research I've been doing for free for most of the past two years, and in part for the two preceding ones. That ... would be heaven. But it's just a start. If I'm right... If I really can accomplish the things I'm setting out to do, it should be little problem moving to the next phase and beyond. All told, this could mean more than a million dollars for my firm, just on one project... and that's before commercialization. That should be enough to hire a staff. Instant colleagues. If I deliver, I've got a product to propel me forward.
My goal is not to get rich (though I certainly won't cast it off). My goal is simple: to find a way to make enough with my research to keep it going for the next thirty years. I simply want it to become self-sustaining. And the thing is, though this proposal is sapping all my energies at the moment, I don't really need this one to come through. I'm utterly convinced that the right opportunity will arise one way or another.
Most likely I'll submit just one of these two proposals I've been planning. It's simply too much work (if I do it right) to get both done. But there are two more cycles coming up with other agencies in August and October. And there are many opportunities beyond these federal grants as well.
Next step after this grant submission is working on the patent filing. I've spent a lot of time lately reading patents on related work. Some are well written, some work interesting, others so badly written I haven't the slightest idea what they're about. I want my patent application to be clear, patently clear. Will I hire an attorney? Perhaps. I haven't decided for sure, though I suspect I'll at least want to hire one to look over my wording, even if I file it on my own. I suspect part of what makes some patents and applications so poorly written is that the attorneys at times have no idea what the invention is all about, so they fill in the filing with words words words. On the other hand, there's a strategy I believe to presenting just the facts, ma'am, without providing all the pith, in the nomenclature--without making the description enabling. Properly, I believe a patent is supposed to be enabling... but in practice it most often isn't.
First off, I complete and submit this grant proposal. Next, I find my Nolo's Patents for Beginners, and get cracking. We'll see. It just might be worth paying that $5-10k for an attorney.
The proposal I've been putting together would be a first step, giving me a real salary for conducting the research I've been doing for free for most of the past two years, and in part for the two preceding ones. That ... would be heaven. But it's just a start. If I'm right... If I really can accomplish the things I'm setting out to do, it should be little problem moving to the next phase and beyond. All told, this could mean more than a million dollars for my firm, just on one project... and that's before commercialization. That should be enough to hire a staff. Instant colleagues. If I deliver, I've got a product to propel me forward.
My goal is not to get rich (though I certainly won't cast it off). My goal is simple: to find a way to make enough with my research to keep it going for the next thirty years. I simply want it to become self-sustaining. And the thing is, though this proposal is sapping all my energies at the moment, I don't really need this one to come through. I'm utterly convinced that the right opportunity will arise one way or another.
Most likely I'll submit just one of these two proposals I've been planning. It's simply too much work (if I do it right) to get both done. But there are two more cycles coming up with other agencies in August and October. And there are many opportunities beyond these federal grants as well.
Next step after this grant submission is working on the patent filing. I've spent a lot of time lately reading patents on related work. Some are well written, some work interesting, others so badly written I haven't the slightest idea what they're about. I want my patent application to be clear, patently clear. Will I hire an attorney? Perhaps. I haven't decided for sure, though I suspect I'll at least want to hire one to look over my wording, even if I file it on my own. I suspect part of what makes some patents and applications so poorly written is that the attorneys at times have no idea what the invention is all about, so they fill in the filing with words words words. On the other hand, there's a strategy I believe to presenting just the facts, ma'am, without providing all the pith, in the nomenclature--without making the description enabling. Properly, I believe a patent is supposed to be enabling... but in practice it most often isn't.
First off, I complete and submit this grant proposal. Next, I find my Nolo's Patents for Beginners, and get cracking. We'll see. It just might be worth paying that $5-10k for an attorney.
Enjoying the storm
I want the Earth to talk to me,
to listen to its call,
to hear its winds awhispery,
even a stormy squall.
I'm glad for weather's vibrancy,
a living Earth for me,
no more the quiet sight
of rainless day and windless night.
The past few nights we've had rain, and thunder, and lightning. Our bully black cat, Jeda, curls up on our bed in the throes of it, raowing his concern. This morning, a tornado watch and flood advisory were issued for the area... take shelter inside, move away from windows.
The Earth speaks to me again. I hadn't realized quite how much I missed her capricious ways. In Southern California the weather is mostly predictably boring. I'm sure many of you will think me odd; who wouldn't want the regularity of sunshine? But there is something charming and delightful, something worldly, gritty, real about weeds cropping up where wind or bird dropped their seeds, rather than only where irrigation nourishes. Fickle rains for me!
to listen to its call,
to hear its winds awhispery,
even a stormy squall.
I'm glad for weather's vibrancy,
a living Earth for me,
no more the quiet sight
of rainless day and windless night.
The past few nights we've had rain, and thunder, and lightning. Our bully black cat, Jeda, curls up on our bed in the throes of it, raowing his concern. This morning, a tornado watch and flood advisory were issued for the area... take shelter inside, move away from windows.
The Earth speaks to me again. I hadn't realized quite how much I missed her capricious ways. In Southern California the weather is mostly predictably boring. I'm sure many of you will think me odd; who wouldn't want the regularity of sunshine? But there is something charming and delightful, something worldly, gritty, real about weeds cropping up where wind or bird dropped their seeds, rather than only where irrigation nourishes. Fickle rains for me!
Monday, June 2, 2008
Been Quiet
I've been quiet here for a few days I see. I'm busy. Friday, I had a morning meeting (followed by lunch) with a nearby professor to consult about possible future collaborative projects. I had first met him a couple weeks ago, but finally with a non-disclosure agreement in place, we were free to talk more openly. After lunch, I had another meeting with the local coordinator for the entrepreneurs network, who agreed to help me out a bit with my grantwriting.
I feel really good off of those meetings. On the one hand, local prof (let's call him Mark Johns) was supportive, but cautious. He's an engineer, trained in one domain of the discipline in which a large part of my current efforts infringe. He validated my view both that what I'm trying is novel and valuable. Next, it actually pleases me a bit his skepticism on some points. The reality is standard practices in Applied Research Field were established long ago when different problems appeared. Those problems led to certain directions in the research. Generations of researchers have tweaked and plumped those techniques, but a few of the fundamental assumptions (in large part determined by the needs of those original questions) fail to go challenged.
I believe the skepticism on Mark's part derives from those assumptions. I fully expect there may be greater complications to what I'm attempting. But I see them as hurdles to climb over, rather than roadblocks. I think, from the vantage of his training and experience, he simply can't see that. It's a good feeling to be so confident in what I'm doing, knowing full well that there is much in his knowledge base that I lack, having not been trained in that discipline. But I'm on to something, I know it, I feel it, I'm validated in that when I get someone like Mark excited about the novelty of it.
And I also know that my ideas are not all that complicated, not all that inspired, not all that spectacular. It's simply, coming at this field from a new direction, with new eyes, I've noticed a stone left unturned. When I turn it off, it's marvelous to see [--I suppose if I were a real academic I'd have written mirabile dictu--] that there are creatures under that stone yet to be catalogued.
The afternoon meeting was exciting as well. Let's call my local entrepreneur coordinator Dick Lindt. Dick's another engineer, but from a quite different area. I've met with him twice now, and talked on the phone and emailed numerous times. He's got great energy, and seems to really believe in what I'm doing. He thinks this first grant should be in the bag. We'll see.
Coming off those two meetings, I honed a bit of the proposal on Friday. The weekend was mostly for the family and the garden. We've gotten a good start on that. I've been edging the yard, setting off small planting areas along the walkways. Hopefully this week we'll decide where the vegetable garden will be, and get started on that. Saturday night we joined some neighbors for a camp fire, to drink and talk. That was really nice as well. It's a good place for us to be, all around. It feels like HOME!
I feel really good off of those meetings. On the one hand, local prof (let's call him Mark Johns) was supportive, but cautious. He's an engineer, trained in one domain of the discipline in which a large part of my current efforts infringe. He validated my view both that what I'm trying is novel and valuable. Next, it actually pleases me a bit his skepticism on some points. The reality is standard practices in Applied Research Field were established long ago when different problems appeared. Those problems led to certain directions in the research. Generations of researchers have tweaked and plumped those techniques, but a few of the fundamental assumptions (in large part determined by the needs of those original questions) fail to go challenged.
I believe the skepticism on Mark's part derives from those assumptions. I fully expect there may be greater complications to what I'm attempting. But I see them as hurdles to climb over, rather than roadblocks. I think, from the vantage of his training and experience, he simply can't see that. It's a good feeling to be so confident in what I'm doing, knowing full well that there is much in his knowledge base that I lack, having not been trained in that discipline. But I'm on to something, I know it, I feel it, I'm validated in that when I get someone like Mark excited about the novelty of it.
And I also know that my ideas are not all that complicated, not all that inspired, not all that spectacular. It's simply, coming at this field from a new direction, with new eyes, I've noticed a stone left unturned. When I turn it off, it's marvelous to see [--I suppose if I were a real academic I'd have written mirabile dictu--] that there are creatures under that stone yet to be catalogued.
The afternoon meeting was exciting as well. Let's call my local entrepreneur coordinator Dick Lindt. Dick's another engineer, but from a quite different area. I've met with him twice now, and talked on the phone and emailed numerous times. He's got great energy, and seems to really believe in what I'm doing. He thinks this first grant should be in the bag. We'll see.
Coming off those two meetings, I honed a bit of the proposal on Friday. The weekend was mostly for the family and the garden. We've gotten a good start on that. I've been edging the yard, setting off small planting areas along the walkways. Hopefully this week we'll decide where the vegetable garden will be, and get started on that. Saturday night we joined some neighbors for a camp fire, to drink and talk. That was really nice as well. It's a good place for us to be, all around. It feels like HOME!
Monday, May 26, 2008
Keeping focus
Had a good time yesterday. Barbeque over at my brother-in-law's, about an hour's drive. It's nice to be able to visit family without too much ado. In two weeks, we'll be heading to one of RocketMom's cousin's houses (about two hours' drive) to celebrate the birthday of one of her boys.
This is why we're here... well, in part. I've been keeping focus otherwise, on these grant proposals. Tough, because I keep thinking I've got three weeks, which I do. But there's a whole to these proposals. I've got to keep to a particular format (there are ten defined sections, each which addresses a particular part of the proposal). I've got to prepare a budget, which I've never done of this kind before.
Today, I finished a complete draft of the eight-page technical description. It'll need tweaking for sure. But it's got a lot in there. A lot of my heart is in there. But RocketMom keeps reminding me (sometimes with prompting) this isn't all there is to me or to us. She'll love me whether I get this grant or not, whether I get the patent on this idea, or not. Life will go on. That's good to know.
I have to keep reminding myself that this deadline is looming, is now. There's a lot of work to do. I've got to keep editing the technical description. I have to fill in the other sections. And I'll have to do it all again (cutting and pasting much of the technical description, rewriting as needed) for the second grant proposal as well.
This is an exciting, but also scary part of being an entrepreneur. I keep reading more and more about what others are doing. Of course, I know much of what they're doing now, I won't know for a couple years, because they like me are keeping it close to the chest, until patents and such come through. I'm convinced that no one is working on what I've got (but then sometimes we all delude ourselves--that I know).
So, this could turn out spectacular. Or it could turn out a dud. I've got to be like Thomas Edison. One more dud just adds to the pile of things that have not YET worked. It'll come. It'll come.
Happy Memorial Day! I've got to get out to the barbeque before everything burns.
This is why we're here... well, in part. I've been keeping focus otherwise, on these grant proposals. Tough, because I keep thinking I've got three weeks, which I do. But there's a whole to these proposals. I've got to keep to a particular format (there are ten defined sections, each which addresses a particular part of the proposal). I've got to prepare a budget, which I've never done of this kind before.
Today, I finished a complete draft of the eight-page technical description. It'll need tweaking for sure. But it's got a lot in there. A lot of my heart is in there. But RocketMom keeps reminding me (sometimes with prompting) this isn't all there is to me or to us. She'll love me whether I get this grant or not, whether I get the patent on this idea, or not. Life will go on. That's good to know.
I have to keep reminding myself that this deadline is looming, is now. There's a lot of work to do. I've got to keep editing the technical description. I have to fill in the other sections. And I'll have to do it all again (cutting and pasting much of the technical description, rewriting as needed) for the second grant proposal as well.
This is an exciting, but also scary part of being an entrepreneur. I keep reading more and more about what others are doing. Of course, I know much of what they're doing now, I won't know for a couple years, because they like me are keeping it close to the chest, until patents and such come through. I'm convinced that no one is working on what I've got (but then sometimes we all delude ourselves--that I know).
So, this could turn out spectacular. Or it could turn out a dud. I've got to be like Thomas Edison. One more dud just adds to the pile of things that have not YET worked. It'll come. It'll come.
Happy Memorial Day! I've got to get out to the barbeque before everything burns.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Grantwriters & Attorneys
Earlier in the week, I got a preliminary bid from one of the grantwriters I had spoken to: $7000! Um... yeah, really. Granted, it's likely the state would cover about 40% of that via a grant program to support new technology businesses, but... uh... From a guy (with a PhD) who recently worked 15 weeks, at least 24 hours/week, teaching two courses at a university, for a paltry $7700, it's rather difficult to justify paying someone else that kind of money to handle a bit of editing and formatting and assuring that electronic submission goes through for a grant proposal (okay, two actually, but they're quite related). The proposal was a flat-rate-fee, ostensibly based on the assumption of 70 hours of work ($100/hr with a comfy buffer I'm sure-- Not bad.) There are numerous things I could do with that 4 grand out of my pocket, not the least of which concerns living expenses for my family for about a month!
Now, I'm not banking on failure, and one approach might be to simply buck it up, fork over the cash, and hope for the best. But I've quite a bit of confidence in my own grantwriting skills. In fact, the grantwriter wouldn't really be writing the grant in any case. It's my research. I'm in for writing the technical proposal (the bulk of the application) either way. So what would that $7000 cover? Not quite sure. Formatting and editing mostly. Sure, that's all a pain in the ass, but I've handled the like before. I think of Lilian's recent drama with submitting her dissertation.
I've taken the tack that I'll just plan to do it all myself, and if I get a bit stressed or derailed, I can always call up one of those folks and say Hey, I've gotten this far, can you help me get it all in? What would that run me? [Reality dictates: I've been under deadlines before; more than likely I'll just pull through.]
My mind's actually a bit more at ease after my latest meeting with a patent attorney yesterday, and my reviewing of disclaimers on the grant submission website. Deal is, the submission itself is treated confidentially, so there's little threat that submitting a grant proposal would constitute public disclosure, thus my patent rights and IP security are retained. All of which means, there's no rush for me to file a patent application (even a provisional one) prior to preparing and submitting these grant proposals.
That said, I've got about three weeks to focus entirely (at least professionally) on preparing those grant apps. And, I remind myself: I don't need these. It'd sure be nice to get one or the other (or both) of them, to validate my approach, and to put some money in the firm's coffers. But we've got a couple years or so before we've got to worry about revenue. I'm utterly convinced that everything will fall into place.
This gives me some breathing room to concentrate on clarifying my ideas, explaining how they solve real world problems. These grant proposals are different from ones I've done in the past, in that I'm not trying to figure a way to fit my research into their expectations, I'm merely finding topics of their interest that I'm already working on, and writing up a proposal that says this is what I'm doing, and hey it solves the problems you're posing. It's a really good feeling!
And that breathing room allows me to work on some other funding avenues as well. I'll be talking with a couple county and regional development representatives next week, to discuss what's available to me in getting this venture up and running. It's quite possible I'll qualify for a state grant/loan program that puts up funds for third-party services (like patent attorneys?), equipment, and staff (but not my salary), with the proviso that it gets paid back as a loan on easy terms if the venture succeeds, and possibly gets forgiven if commercialization fails. That may put me in the awkward position of paying employees more in salary and benefits than I've ever had the honor to receive.
I can't say for sure what will happen, but it's not out of the question that I'll have a couple full-time employees by the end of the summer. I've been alone on this journey professionally for quite a while. It'd be a relief to finally have some company, but it'll be odd as well, especially since it'll be my task to provide them with assignments, and to make sure that they remain busy and engaged. That'll take some thinking. Meantime, it's three weeks on these grants. We'll see from there.
Now, I'm not banking on failure, and one approach might be to simply buck it up, fork over the cash, and hope for the best. But I've quite a bit of confidence in my own grantwriting skills. In fact, the grantwriter wouldn't really be writing the grant in any case. It's my research. I'm in for writing the technical proposal (the bulk of the application) either way. So what would that $7000 cover? Not quite sure. Formatting and editing mostly. Sure, that's all a pain in the ass, but I've handled the like before. I think of Lilian's recent drama with submitting her dissertation.
I've taken the tack that I'll just plan to do it all myself, and if I get a bit stressed or derailed, I can always call up one of those folks and say Hey, I've gotten this far, can you help me get it all in? What would that run me? [Reality dictates: I've been under deadlines before; more than likely I'll just pull through.]
My mind's actually a bit more at ease after my latest meeting with a patent attorney yesterday, and my reviewing of disclaimers on the grant submission website. Deal is, the submission itself is treated confidentially, so there's little threat that submitting a grant proposal would constitute public disclosure, thus my patent rights and IP security are retained. All of which means, there's no rush for me to file a patent application (even a provisional one) prior to preparing and submitting these grant proposals.
That said, I've got about three weeks to focus entirely (at least professionally) on preparing those grant apps. And, I remind myself: I don't need these. It'd sure be nice to get one or the other (or both) of them, to validate my approach, and to put some money in the firm's coffers. But we've got a couple years or so before we've got to worry about revenue. I'm utterly convinced that everything will fall into place.
This gives me some breathing room to concentrate on clarifying my ideas, explaining how they solve real world problems. These grant proposals are different from ones I've done in the past, in that I'm not trying to figure a way to fit my research into their expectations, I'm merely finding topics of their interest that I'm already working on, and writing up a proposal that says this is what I'm doing, and hey it solves the problems you're posing. It's a really good feeling!
And that breathing room allows me to work on some other funding avenues as well. I'll be talking with a couple county and regional development representatives next week, to discuss what's available to me in getting this venture up and running. It's quite possible I'll qualify for a state grant/loan program that puts up funds for third-party services (like patent attorneys?), equipment, and staff (but not my salary), with the proviso that it gets paid back as a loan on easy terms if the venture succeeds, and possibly gets forgiven if commercialization fails. That may put me in the awkward position of paying employees more in salary and benefits than I've ever had the honor to receive.
I can't say for sure what will happen, but it's not out of the question that I'll have a couple full-time employees by the end of the summer. I've been alone on this journey professionally for quite a while. It'd be a relief to finally have some company, but it'll be odd as well, especially since it'll be my task to provide them with assignments, and to make sure that they remain busy and engaged. That'll take some thinking. Meantime, it's three weeks on these grants. We'll see from there.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Am I happy?
Last night, in bed, RocketMom said she was pleased to see me happy, that she was glad so many things are taking off for me and my business. I kept waiting for the "but"... it didn't come. I asked. No buts... just I love yous.
... Hmmm. Am I happy?
I'm one of these people who often whistles to myself, imbuing the space around me with sound. What is that you're whistling? I don't know. It's nothing. I'm just making it up. So many remarks over the years about how happy I must be. I've often wondered at those remarks, not feeling particularly happy in my doings (not sad either, simply being). I guess 1950s musicals trained us to see whistling => happy. Or maybe it's deeper than that? Maybe it's true. Maybe I was just unaware of my own contentment.
Am I happy?
I'm busy, that's for sure. More activity in my life condensed in a month than I've felt for years, YEARS! The post-doc depression (for me, and I'm sure many others) was a sink hole the size of Kansas, the kind of chasm you'd expect from a 1970s era movie on earthquakes, where faultlines disappear into depths below, swallowing cars, houses, people.
I'm no longer in it. I'm not looking behind, to see the devastation. I grieve for Myanmar and Sichuan today. I have a distance from their suffering (theirs is physical, tangible, mine merely emotional--why do we say merely?).
To some extent, I'm not ready to pause and revel in my happiness, because there is no stopping point just yet. I've a house again. For that I'm glad. My family is receiving state aid (a hand-up as I see it, not a hand-out).
I'm edging closer and closer to accomplishing practical applications of these ideas which have swirled for years in my head. They begin to congeal, clearly and concisely on paper. I'm attending meetings, and workshops, and seminars, and talks. I'm working on proposals. I'm discussing state funding for various projects. (If it were my own money, how would I spend it?) I'm talking to lawyers about protecting my intellectual property. (What can I patent? Is it the right moment? Do I risk losing patent rights, if I submit grant proposals before patent protection?)
When that first check arrives, I will surely celebrate. Happiness is an attitude, not so much a state. Am I happy is not the right question. Do I admit to my happiness? (To quote Dr. Lanning from the movie I, Robot): "That, is the right question."
... Hmmm. Am I happy?
I'm one of these people who often whistles to myself, imbuing the space around me with sound. What is that you're whistling? I don't know. It's nothing. I'm just making it up. So many remarks over the years about how happy I must be. I've often wondered at those remarks, not feeling particularly happy in my doings (not sad either, simply being). I guess 1950s musicals trained us to see whistling => happy. Or maybe it's deeper than that? Maybe it's true. Maybe I was just unaware of my own contentment.
Am I happy?
I'm busy, that's for sure. More activity in my life condensed in a month than I've felt for years, YEARS! The post-doc depression (for me, and I'm sure many others) was a sink hole the size of Kansas, the kind of chasm you'd expect from a 1970s era movie on earthquakes, where faultlines disappear into depths below, swallowing cars, houses, people.
I'm no longer in it. I'm not looking behind, to see the devastation. I grieve for Myanmar and Sichuan today. I have a distance from their suffering (theirs is physical, tangible, mine merely emotional--why do we say merely?).
To some extent, I'm not ready to pause and revel in my happiness, because there is no stopping point just yet. I've a house again. For that I'm glad. My family is receiving state aid (a hand-up as I see it, not a hand-out).
I'm edging closer and closer to accomplishing practical applications of these ideas which have swirled for years in my head. They begin to congeal, clearly and concisely on paper. I'm attending meetings, and workshops, and seminars, and talks. I'm working on proposals. I'm discussing state funding for various projects. (If it were my own money, how would I spend it?) I'm talking to lawyers about protecting my intellectual property. (What can I patent? Is it the right moment? Do I risk losing patent rights, if I submit grant proposals before patent protection?)
When that first check arrives, I will surely celebrate. Happiness is an attitude, not so much a state. Am I happy is not the right question. Do I admit to my happiness? (To quote Dr. Lanning from the movie I, Robot): "That, is the right question."
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Little pleasures
Our dear Mira is gone. In some ways, knowing the end was coming, makes it easier. I remember when Mouse was run over by a car. I was devastated. Such a sweet, fluffy (she was the only longhair in the litter), intelligent (she was the only one who could open doors by grabbing the handles), beautiful cat.
Mouse in March 2002
She had a habit of running across the busy frontage road beside our condo complex to catch field mice and gophers in the greenway along the highway. One day she didn't make it back. She had been out for hours, I was worried. I found her, flat and stiff, wrapped in a newspaper beside the road.
It was the daily habits that reminded me. Each day, I reached for four cat bowls... then put one back. These days I reach for three, and settle on two. Two toms remain. Enormous cats. Not really fat, just enormous. Take a look at the tail size on the other tabby beside Mira in this photo and you'll get a sense of what I mean. The fourth cat of the litter was Spock. His tabby "M" marking on the forehead reminded us too much of Leonard Nimoy's character to forego the namesake. We had given him away shortly after weaning. It was very hard. We decided to keep the others. Five, then four cats... now down to two.
My three boys
But there are many small pleasures in life. Looking in my baby Composer's grey-blue eyes. I wonder if they'll remain that color. His mother has long been my "grey-eyed goddess Athena". My paternal grandmother had sky blue eyes her entire life. The older two boys have my hazel-green. Composer is just four months now... they could yet change. But those eyes seem willful in their determination to take after their mother's.
I love to tickle his cheek, and watch his delighted, gaping, toothless grin. I love the creativity of his elder brothers, their stories, and their questions. I enjoy those rare occasions when all three (or even just two) play contentedly together.
Multigrain sourdough
The past couple days I've enjoyed my baking again. I was never a baker until the past couple years, when my yearning for dense and flavorful Central European-style bread (the kind you just love to slab a hunk of cheese on), and the inability to find it anywhere, led me to purchase a baking book, and start experimenting. I'm finally at the point, where I can modify recipes on the fly and be fairly sure they'll turn out. I learned the secret to free-form loaves that don't collapse: long rising times (about 3-4 hours), with a couple intermediate sessions of folding the dough in on itself (like an envelope). That stretches and strengthens the glutens. The loaf above is a multi-grain sourdough (wheat, rye, spelt, cornmeal). I baked a dozen bagels the night before.
And now, it's back to work. I'm still honing the technology narrative. I have lunch today with an upcoming senior in computer science and business at a local college, who will be taking on developing a business plan for my firm as his senior project. Then, I head on a two-hour drive for a talk about the research priorities of one government agency. Busy days. Good days. It helps dispel the sadness of loss.
Mouse in March 2002She had a habit of running across the busy frontage road beside our condo complex to catch field mice and gophers in the greenway along the highway. One day she didn't make it back. She had been out for hours, I was worried. I found her, flat and stiff, wrapped in a newspaper beside the road.
It was the daily habits that reminded me. Each day, I reached for four cat bowls... then put one back. These days I reach for three, and settle on two. Two toms remain. Enormous cats. Not really fat, just enormous. Take a look at the tail size on the other tabby beside Mira in this photo and you'll get a sense of what I mean. The fourth cat of the litter was Spock. His tabby "M" marking on the forehead reminded us too much of Leonard Nimoy's character to forego the namesake. We had given him away shortly after weaning. It was very hard. We decided to keep the others. Five, then four cats... now down to two.
My three boysBut there are many small pleasures in life. Looking in my baby Composer's grey-blue eyes. I wonder if they'll remain that color. His mother has long been my "grey-eyed goddess Athena". My paternal grandmother had sky blue eyes her entire life. The older two boys have my hazel-green. Composer is just four months now... they could yet change. But those eyes seem willful in their determination to take after their mother's.
I love to tickle his cheek, and watch his delighted, gaping, toothless grin. I love the creativity of his elder brothers, their stories, and their questions. I enjoy those rare occasions when all three (or even just two) play contentedly together.
Multigrain sourdoughThe past couple days I've enjoyed my baking again. I was never a baker until the past couple years, when my yearning for dense and flavorful Central European-style bread (the kind you just love to slab a hunk of cheese on), and the inability to find it anywhere, led me to purchase a baking book, and start experimenting. I'm finally at the point, where I can modify recipes on the fly and be fairly sure they'll turn out. I learned the secret to free-form loaves that don't collapse: long rising times (about 3-4 hours), with a couple intermediate sessions of folding the dough in on itself (like an envelope). That stretches and strengthens the glutens. The loaf above is a multi-grain sourdough (wheat, rye, spelt, cornmeal). I baked a dozen bagels the night before.
And now, it's back to work. I'm still honing the technology narrative. I have lunch today with an upcoming senior in computer science and business at a local college, who will be taking on developing a business plan for my firm as his senior project. Then, I head on a two-hour drive for a talk about the research priorities of one government agency. Busy days. Good days. It helps dispel the sadness of loss.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Goodbye Kitty
Late summer 1999, a rainy day in Denver. I heard a cat mewing from beneath a car across the street from our first house. I crossed, and bent down, holding out my hand patiently, seemingly disinterested (as my father had taught me to approach a strange cat). She approached and sniffed, then rubbed with verve, purring. I scooped this tiny cat (about 6 lbs at the time) into my arms, sheltering her from the rain, and carried her to our porch.
What do we have to feed a cat? I thought, alighting on the idea of a can of tuna. I opened the door to retrieve it, and she darted in without a thought or hesitation. I opened the can in the kitchen, and watched her hungrily devour it. We let her out and in over the next few days. She decided it was home. We bought proper cat food, and began to treat her as our charge.
Honey, have you noticed that her nipples are swollen? I wonder what that could mean. I was naive, really. I had no idea... but soon figured it out. Did you know that feline gestation is a mere 9 weeks? No wonder she was hungry.
We discovered that Tigger (as the three children up the block called her) was one of the many (a euphemism in this case) cats that they harbored in and around their home. According to them this was already her third litter. About 4:00 in the morning on the Saturday after Thanksgiving 1999, four tiny kittens the size of my thumb were born in a box full of shredded sheets, rags, and paper in our bedroom closet. She had been in labor for 12 hours, crying constantly.
Mira as we named her (from the Slavic root for "peace" and also incidentally for space and the earth) was an integral part of our family for the next decade. Last night, lying on a pillow beside my eldest son who lay in his sleeping bag on the floor (as he had wished), she passed her final hours. Today we buried her in our backyard, along the fence, where we will later today plant some catnip, and eventually place a stepping stone in her honor. Mira, we will miss you.
Mira (on the right), then about 9 lbs, with one of her boys.
What do we have to feed a cat? I thought, alighting on the idea of a can of tuna. I opened the door to retrieve it, and she darted in without a thought or hesitation. I opened the can in the kitchen, and watched her hungrily devour it. We let her out and in over the next few days. She decided it was home. We bought proper cat food, and began to treat her as our charge.
Honey, have you noticed that her nipples are swollen? I wonder what that could mean. I was naive, really. I had no idea... but soon figured it out. Did you know that feline gestation is a mere 9 weeks? No wonder she was hungry.
We discovered that Tigger (as the three children up the block called her) was one of the many (a euphemism in this case) cats that they harbored in and around their home. According to them this was already her third litter. About 4:00 in the morning on the Saturday after Thanksgiving 1999, four tiny kittens the size of my thumb were born in a box full of shredded sheets, rags, and paper in our bedroom closet. She had been in labor for 12 hours, crying constantly.
Mira as we named her (from the Slavic root for "peace" and also incidentally for space and the earth) was an integral part of our family for the next decade. Last night, lying on a pillow beside my eldest son who lay in his sleeping bag on the floor (as he had wished), she passed her final hours. Today we buried her in our backyard, along the fence, where we will later today plant some catnip, and eventually place a stepping stone in her honor. Mira, we will miss you.
Mira (on the right), then about 9 lbs, with one of her boys.Friday, May 16, 2008
It doesn't really stop
I spoke with the third patent attorney today on the phone. She seemed honest and direct. She recommended I not spend more than $1500 at this point on legal fees, to cover a patent/IP search and a provisional application. (Wow, that's a far cry short of the $3500 for a provisional, or potentially $12,000 or more for a full utility patent, which was quoted to me by one of the other attorneys). Her take was I don't yet have a "product" so I'm best off pursuing rather minimal legal protections. They should be sufficient. (Her bio and publications support a view that she has extensive knowledge and experience, and thus can be trusted on this count). If all goes well, I will get one or another of these federal research grants, which will sustain me as I move toward developing such a product, preparing me for the full utility patent within the year a provisional allows me.
I'm scheduled to meet with one of the other attorneys on Wednesday morning, and possibly the second that afternoon. I'm leaning toward working with this third. She also recommended someone for me to call regarding my federal grant applications. So I did. We talked for about 20 minutes, and agreed to meet for coffee tomorrow. She's a fellow former academic (she was working on her PhD at my alma mater when I was an undergraduate there!), and a fellow inventor/entrepreneur. Should be fun.
Today, I drafted up a 2000 word technology narrative to form the basis for a patent application and for grant proposals. It's a good start, but still a draft. I'll bring that to the meeting (along with a non-disclosure agreement). She's agreed to look it over (rather she insisted on it), and give me feedback.
Oh, and there's a high ranking government official coming to town (well, two hours away) on Tuesday afternoon, to discuss research priorities. So, I'll be taking off just after lunch with my business plan partner to head to that.
I'm scheduled to meet with one of the other attorneys on Wednesday morning, and possibly the second that afternoon. I'm leaning toward working with this third. She also recommended someone for me to call regarding my federal grant applications. So I did. We talked for about 20 minutes, and agreed to meet for coffee tomorrow. She's a fellow former academic (she was working on her PhD at my alma mater when I was an undergraduate there!), and a fellow inventor/entrepreneur. Should be fun.
Today, I drafted up a 2000 word technology narrative to form the basis for a patent application and for grant proposals. It's a good start, but still a draft. I'll bring that to the meeting (along with a non-disclosure agreement). She's agreed to look it over (rather she insisted on it), and give me feedback.
Oh, and there's a high ranking government official coming to town (well, two hours away) on Tuesday afternoon, to discuss research priorities. So, I'll be taking off just after lunch with my business plan partner to head to that.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Pit-stops
The race continues:
This work is good, and exciting (if still daunting). I am so unaccustomed to being taken seriously. I have grown used to soft-pedaling my research ("well yeah, I do research, but I really love the classroom... I'd be just thrilled to teach your 101 and 102 sections... that'd be right dandy!"). I'm still a bit in awe of the level of support that has come to me, in such a short time.
There are state funds to help cover the costs of grant writing. I'll be talking with some local people next week as well, about additional state funds available to assist the startup of technology ventures. It's possible that I'll get help defraying the costs of a patent filing, as well as assistance to hire some programmers and others. It seems there are many people who are taking a vested interest in the success of my venture.
This is a world apart from the neglect I had grown accustomed to. And, you know what... I'm beginning to like it!
- I attended my first local inventors & entrepreneurs club meeting on Tuesday.
- The speaker referred me to an old friend of his, a professor at a university about 30-40 minutes north of me whose expertise is exactly those areas of [applied research field] which I most lack. We spoke on the phone for a while, and will be having lunch on Monday to discuss shop (and possible collaborations).
- Tuesday, I have lunch scheduled with a local college student who'll be partnering with me to prepare a complete business plan for my firm as his senior project over the next year.
- Tomorrow, I'll speak on the phone with a patent attorney.
- I have a morning meeting tentatively scheduled for Wednesday with another patent attorney.
- Tentatively, that afternoon, I'll be meeting with yet a third patent attorney (and his partner).
- Tomorrow, I'll also have a second talk with a grant writer (once he's gotten a chance to look over some materials I sent him today).
- I've registered to attend a regional entrepreneurs' conference next month.
This work is good, and exciting (if still daunting). I am so unaccustomed to being taken seriously. I have grown used to soft-pedaling my research ("well yeah, I do research, but I really love the classroom... I'd be just thrilled to teach your 101 and 102 sections... that'd be right dandy!"). I'm still a bit in awe of the level of support that has come to me, in such a short time.
There are state funds to help cover the costs of grant writing. I'll be talking with some local people next week as well, about additional state funds available to assist the startup of technology ventures. It's possible that I'll get help defraying the costs of a patent filing, as well as assistance to hire some programmers and others. It seems there are many people who are taking a vested interest in the success of my venture.
This is a world apart from the neglect I had grown accustomed to. And, you know what... I'm beginning to like it!
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Almost a family room
All the wall board is up. The wires have been pulled. We'll put up the last wallboard (outside the room, to set up a wall of shelves for our "pantry") tomorrow. I'll have a neighbor do the seam taping. We purchased all the ceiling tiles and hardware today. Still waiting for the second light fixture to come back into stock. Maybe we'll put up the doors tomorrow as well. Then it's painting, and a floor, and moving in the furniture. I can't wait for this to be done (but I'm quite proud of the project). I'm just ready to concentrate on patents and grants.
Good news (at least of the temporary kind) came yesterday though. We qualified and have been approved for state-sponsored health insurance. With my necessary expenses so reduced, I can concentrate a bit more freely on research and building my business, which should have a far greater positive effect on that society than leaving me in the dust to wallow in unemployment (or perhaps worse adjunct servitude).
Monday, May 12, 2008
Wait no more
Part of being an academic wannabe was getting used to waiting. It's a destructive habit, turning racehorses into sloths. I feel a surge around me, my body lurches. I'm not sedentary, but this activity is unaccustomed for me. I've grown fearful over the years, no longer my fully energetic and fearless self. I buck at my own urging, wanting to graze a bit by the side of the track, then get back to racing, you know, whenever. Granted, I'm not 20-something and single any more. I'm married and have three kids. There are obligations.
I need regain some of my fearlessness. It's a necessary component of an entrepreneur's blood. Money money money. I've been dealing with the state agencies, in hopes that my family will qualify for some assistance, in particular health insurance. That's a major expense that I've been worrying about. For now, we have no insurance, though we should be able to enroll in COBRA (for about $800/month) if we need it. I want to know that there's some safety net for us, so I can divert some of that money into building the business (so I can afford my own insurance sooner).
I realize that part of my worry is simply projection. I'm projecting my fears and concerns outward. I have no control over state agencies (though applying for whatever support I'm eligible for makes sense). I do have control to some extent over our expenditures. And the opportunities for me to spend our money keeps piling up.
I'm looking to hire a grant writer to help me apply for these federal grants. I'm looking to hire a patent attorney to help me prepare my patent applications. I'm looking to join some local and regional organizations (each with its dues). I'm considering conferences (industry conferences often run over a $1000 plus travel and lodging).
Thousands of dollars peer out the windows longingly (like my cats) with their wings spread, ready to jump. How much will remain? How long will it last? See... to some extent those are not the questions an entrepreneur should be asking (though a healthy dose of realism and practicality can be prescribed). An entrepreneur needs sometimes simply to leap, to spend. That's both the benefit and the problem with financing. If it's my money, I may be too cautious; If it's somebody else's, I may spend too hastily. It's the balance that I'm seeking.
I just wish I could delegate some of the decisions to others. Patience and perseverance!
I need regain some of my fearlessness. It's a necessary component of an entrepreneur's blood. Money money money. I've been dealing with the state agencies, in hopes that my family will qualify for some assistance, in particular health insurance. That's a major expense that I've been worrying about. For now, we have no insurance, though we should be able to enroll in COBRA (for about $800/month) if we need it. I want to know that there's some safety net for us, so I can divert some of that money into building the business (so I can afford my own insurance sooner).
I realize that part of my worry is simply projection. I'm projecting my fears and concerns outward. I have no control over state agencies (though applying for whatever support I'm eligible for makes sense). I do have control to some extent over our expenditures. And the opportunities for me to spend our money keeps piling up.
I'm looking to hire a grant writer to help me apply for these federal grants. I'm looking to hire a patent attorney to help me prepare my patent applications. I'm looking to join some local and regional organizations (each with its dues). I'm considering conferences (industry conferences often run over a $1000 plus travel and lodging).
Thousands of dollars peer out the windows longingly (like my cats) with their wings spread, ready to jump. How much will remain? How long will it last? See... to some extent those are not the questions an entrepreneur should be asking (though a healthy dose of realism and practicality can be prescribed). An entrepreneur needs sometimes simply to leap, to spend. That's both the benefit and the problem with financing. If it's my money, I may be too cautious; If it's somebody else's, I may spend too hastily. It's the balance that I'm seeking.
I just wish I could delegate some of the decisions to others. Patience and perseverance!
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Acceleration
Life has sped up on me. It has been a very long week. It's as if I had been whisked on a tour bus, at high speed, then, a bit dazed, legs shaky from the ride, left to disembark at the starting point.
A week has passed since my last posting. So many things.
First: troubles with my webhost. They suspended my account, leaving me without my PRW (personal research website) and for a few days without any email (which mysteriously reappeared a couple days ago, after I had established new email elsewhere). Long story short, they overcharged me about 20% more than they had quoted me. They admitted to overcharging me, but refused to take action without some ridiculous documentation on my part. Since their customer service policy is to NEVER speak with anyone on the phone, all communication is done via email, at their pace. I called the credit card company, provided them with the quoted rates, and asked them to refund me only the difference. So the webhost suspended my account.
I'm in process of trying to transfer the domain to another webhost, which supports customer service. In addition, I registered three new domain names (.com, .net, .org) for my business, and set up new email through them.
I registered an LLC with the state. I met with the regional coordinator for the state Entrepreneurs' Network. I had lunch with the patent attorney friend of my father-in-law's. I drove two hours away to meet with the director of another center for technology development, which focuses on garnering federal funding for state enterprises.
I spoke on the phone with the contact for one of the federal grants I'm interested in. That one looks promising. I've left several messages for the contact on a second grant. I agreed to participate in a program through one of the local colleges that teams up a senior in business with an entrepreneur for a year to develop a complete business plan.
Meanwhile, we're still working on the basement family room. We have two walls covered with wallboard now.
This flurry of activity is more daunting than the snow flurries we had when we arrived. I've hit the ground running, but I've yet to catch up with myself. My task list gets longer each day. I'm still here. When I come up for air, I'll post again.
*****UPDATE*****
I got the website transferred. (Called back my credit card company and disputed the remainder of their charge, accepting that they did provide me with just under 2 months of the one year of hosting. I reset up my old email addresses forwarded to the new ones (in case any more come to those addresses).
I've installed WordPress (which was the framework I had been using), but have not been able yet to figure out how to unpack the bizarre .tar.tgz backup file, to reset up everything on the site. Worst case scenario, I'll have to redo it all manually. I'd just hate to lose all the search links. Maybe I'll have to check out all the G**gle caches, to figure out the proper pagenames. I get normally 20-100 or so hits per day on my PRW, so someone is finding the info useful.
Got a call back from the second federal grant point of contact. I was beginning to think it a bit beyond my reach at the moment, but now I'm convinced I should apply. I made it clear what I'm working on, and how I think it'd fit with the topic (and incidentally that I thought the wording of their proposal came off a bit too ambitious). He allayed my concerns, at least enough to make me feel more comfortable preparing a bid.
That said, it looks like I'll be hiring a grant writer to assist me (the state offers matching funds to defray the costs). Meanwhile, I need to interview some patent attorneys, and get cracking on the patent filing. I'd like to have that done ideally by the time I submit my federal grant applications. Otherwise (and possibly even so), I need to prepare my fed grant apps with enough detail to be intriguing, but not so much as to give away proprietary Intellectual Property.
So:
Tomorrow it's more basement work. The doors are in the store, so I'll pick them up tomorrow. If all goes well, we'll finish the wallboarding, and hang the doors. I'll have a neighbor contractor do the seam taping and sealing. Planning to have the boys help paint the walls (that should be interesting!). Then we have to decide on the flooring. We're thinking of carpeting, but we might just opt for the expedient (an area rug). Then it's time to set up the family room, and for me to take a break from home repairs, and bury myself in research and business for the next month or so.
A week has passed since my last posting. So many things.
First: troubles with my webhost. They suspended my account, leaving me without my PRW (personal research website) and for a few days without any email (which mysteriously reappeared a couple days ago, after I had established new email elsewhere). Long story short, they overcharged me about 20% more than they had quoted me. They admitted to overcharging me, but refused to take action without some ridiculous documentation on my part. Since their customer service policy is to NEVER speak with anyone on the phone, all communication is done via email, at their pace. I called the credit card company, provided them with the quoted rates, and asked them to refund me only the difference. So the webhost suspended my account.
I'm in process of trying to transfer the domain to another webhost, which supports customer service. In addition, I registered three new domain names (.com, .net, .org) for my business, and set up new email through them.
I registered an LLC with the state. I met with the regional coordinator for the state Entrepreneurs' Network. I had lunch with the patent attorney friend of my father-in-law's. I drove two hours away to meet with the director of another center for technology development, which focuses on garnering federal funding for state enterprises.
I spoke on the phone with the contact for one of the federal grants I'm interested in. That one looks promising. I've left several messages for the contact on a second grant. I agreed to participate in a program through one of the local colleges that teams up a senior in business with an entrepreneur for a year to develop a complete business plan.
Meanwhile, we're still working on the basement family room. We have two walls covered with wallboard now.
This flurry of activity is more daunting than the snow flurries we had when we arrived. I've hit the ground running, but I've yet to catch up with myself. My task list gets longer each day. I'm still here. When I come up for air, I'll post again.
*****UPDATE*****
I got the website transferred. (Called back my credit card company and disputed the remainder of their charge, accepting that they did provide me with just under 2 months of the one year of hosting. I reset up my old email addresses forwarded to the new ones (in case any more come to those addresses).
I've installed WordPress (which was the framework I had been using), but have not been able yet to figure out how to unpack the bizarre .tar.tgz backup file, to reset up everything on the site. Worst case scenario, I'll have to redo it all manually. I'd just hate to lose all the search links. Maybe I'll have to check out all the G**gle caches, to figure out the proper pagenames. I get normally 20-100 or so hits per day on my PRW, so someone is finding the info useful.
Got a call back from the second federal grant point of contact. I was beginning to think it a bit beyond my reach at the moment, but now I'm convinced I should apply. I made it clear what I'm working on, and how I think it'd fit with the topic (and incidentally that I thought the wording of their proposal came off a bit too ambitious). He allayed my concerns, at least enough to make me feel more comfortable preparing a bid.
That said, it looks like I'll be hiring a grant writer to assist me (the state offers matching funds to defray the costs). Meanwhile, I need to interview some patent attorneys, and get cracking on the patent filing. I'd like to have that done ideally by the time I submit my federal grant applications. Otherwise (and possibly even so), I need to prepare my fed grant apps with enough detail to be intriguing, but not so much as to give away proprietary Intellectual Property.
So:
- interview grant writers
- apply for state matching funds
- interview patent attorneys
- get cracking on both:
- the details of the patent application, and
- the details of my fed grant proposals.
Tomorrow it's more basement work. The doors are in the store, so I'll pick them up tomorrow. If all goes well, we'll finish the wallboarding, and hang the doors. I'll have a neighbor contractor do the seam taping and sealing. Planning to have the boys help paint the walls (that should be interesting!). Then we have to decide on the flooring. We're thinking of carpeting, but we might just opt for the expedient (an area rug). Then it's time to set up the family room, and for me to take a break from home repairs, and bury myself in research and business for the next month or so.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
No turning back
It would seem my course is set. I met this morning for over an hour with the director of a center for technology and innovation, sponsored as a regional hub by one of the local colleges. He invited to join us a professor of science and technology entrepreneurship from another local college.
It was freeing to spout off (assured of confidentiality) about my research, and its applications. We set out a plan of action for moving forward. They've projected confidence in my work, and a commitment to helping me make it successful. As the professor put it this afternoon:
I'm on a path to file some provisional patents, and prepare some federal grant applications, in the next couple weeks. This afternoon, I filed paperwork with the state creating a limited liability corporation for this venture.
This is the world that has been waiting for me outside that door. It looks pretty good from here.
It was freeing to spout off (assured of confidentiality) about my research, and its applications. We set out a plan of action for moving forward. They've projected confidence in my work, and a commitment to helping me make it successful. As the professor put it this afternoon:
Your work sounds really interesting....We'll just have to see how to make it commercially successful! I'm sure we'll be talking more.Yesterday, I spoke with the regional coordinator for the statewide entrepreneurs' network. He was encouraging and supportive. Among other things, he mentioned a state grant program to assist with a substantial portion of expenses involved in preparing the federal grant proposals, urging me to apply. This morning, there was an email from him saying:
...I passed your name on to a person at [corporation] who may need your expertise as a consultant for some product development they are doing...Um, yeah, sure, great. I called up that referral this afternoon, and spent more than a half hour with him talking about research and applications. I sent him my CV, and he promised to send it around, and talk up possibilities with others there.
I'm on a path to file some provisional patents, and prepare some federal grant applications, in the next couple weeks. This afternoon, I filed paperwork with the state creating a limited liability corporation for this venture.
This is the world that has been waiting for me outside that door. It looks pretty good from here.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Basement progression
Here is a progression to date of the basement family room project. The overall interior dimensions of this room when complete will be about 10' x 12'. The TV & entertainment center will be on the right in the picture below, along the southside wall. Straight ahead below (the east wall) will have two craft cabinets. The sofa will lie along the newly constructed wall to the left (wall #3 below).
The relevant quarter of the basement, as it looked when we moved in.
The first wall, framed.
The second wall framed. Note the heating/ac vents on the ceiling. We had to frame those out. We'll be putting in a drop ceiling, and a couple fluorescent light fixtures.
The third wall framed. The pillar you see on the right, will be the left edge of the door frame. We're putting in two 36" wide solid-cherry bifold doors (just ordered them today). That leaves just under 2' between the door and the southside exterior wall.
This is the view of the stairs from inside the family room under construction. To your right is the "third wall". The fourth wall is straight ahead (open in the picture). We have framed this space as well. The pillar above is now on your left in this photo. Between pillars is just under 8'. We'll be putting up three large heavy duty shelves on the stairside of this wall, to serve as pantry storage.
And here is the view from today (the white blotch on your left is the pillar): four walls framed, electrical conduit and boxes in place, moisture barrier installed, insulation up. You see the one of the ventilation chases above.
The relevant quarter of the basement, as it looked when we moved in.
The first wall, framed.
The second wall framed. Note the heating/ac vents on the ceiling. We had to frame those out. We'll be putting in a drop ceiling, and a couple fluorescent light fixtures.
The third wall framed. The pillar you see on the right, will be the left edge of the door frame. We're putting in two 36" wide solid-cherry bifold doors (just ordered them today). That leaves just under 2' between the door and the southside exterior wall.
This is the view of the stairs from inside the family room under construction. To your right is the "third wall". The fourth wall is straight ahead (open in the picture). We have framed this space as well. The pillar above is now on your left in this photo. Between pillars is just under 8'. We'll be putting up three large heavy duty shelves on the stairside of this wall, to serve as pantry storage.
And here is the view from today (the white blotch on your left is the pillar): four walls framed, electrical conduit and boxes in place, moisture barrier installed, insulation up. You see the one of the ventilation chases above.
One thing leads to another
Email, phone call, followup, referral. One thing leads to another.
A good morning working on the basement. We completed the electrical boxes (all that remains is hooking them up. We've got the moisture barrier in place, and put up the insulation. The wallboard stands neatly stacked against one wall, awaiting our next assault. Ordered the doors. Another two or three sessions, and we should be ready to move in the furniture.
Then, after lunch, I followed up on some contacts and referrals. One leads to another. I'm feeling well supported in these endeavors, and confident that everything will move quickly here on, and expect to be surprised. This is a far cry from the isolation and silence of academia. Why, oh why is it this way?
The incentives are all for small businesses. I can't complain: that's the path I've chosen. But how much sweeter is the water here than what is proffered to academics. Is the work that different? Surely not. The research (at least my research) is virtually the same. The only difference is in focus, in the recognition that the research must lead to something viable from the start.
Perhaps there is greater (at least direct, measurable) value for the economy in creating new jobs, in commercializing products. --Of course, there is a danger in that... a danger that the motives for greater good may be diminished or forgotten. I think of Google's motto: do no evil... far better it had been do good, but that's another thing.--
As the head instructor for the seminar on Monday put it: one needs to remember that to do good, one must first do well. And so, I proceed.
A good morning working on the basement. We completed the electrical boxes (all that remains is hooking them up. We've got the moisture barrier in place, and put up the insulation. The wallboard stands neatly stacked against one wall, awaiting our next assault. Ordered the doors. Another two or three sessions, and we should be ready to move in the furniture.
Then, after lunch, I followed up on some contacts and referrals. One leads to another. I'm feeling well supported in these endeavors, and confident that everything will move quickly here on, and expect to be surprised. This is a far cry from the isolation and silence of academia. Why, oh why is it this way?
The incentives are all for small businesses. I can't complain: that's the path I've chosen. But how much sweeter is the water here than what is proffered to academics. Is the work that different? Surely not. The research (at least my research) is virtually the same. The only difference is in focus, in the recognition that the research must lead to something viable from the start.
Perhaps there is greater (at least direct, measurable) value for the economy in creating new jobs, in commercializing products. --Of course, there is a danger in that... a danger that the motives for greater good may be diminished or forgotten. I think of Google's motto: do no evil... far better it had been do good, but that's another thing.--
As the head instructor for the seminar on Monday put it: one needs to remember that to do good, one must first do well. And so, I proceed.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Resources abound
I went to a seminar last night a couple hours' drive away. (Got to love it: "a couple hours' drive" in the LA area was about 40 miles... here it's over 100!). The small class was on the topic of starting a technology business. A good start I'd say.
Nice to know, for one thing, that there are Small Business Development Centers set up all over the state, with free counseling for startups and entrepreneurs. I learned about federal grants programs to small businesses for startup research and technology transfer that might be exactly up my alley. And there is assistance available for preparation of the grant applications.
I gave a call this morning to the local SBDC, to set up an initial consultation. I called my father-in-law to request he set up a meeting for me with his former co-worker, a retired corporate patent attorney. They'll be having dinner together on Friday.
It's time for some movement.
Nice to know, for one thing, that there are Small Business Development Centers set up all over the state, with free counseling for startups and entrepreneurs. I learned about federal grants programs to small businesses for startup research and technology transfer that might be exactly up my alley. And there is assistance available for preparation of the grant applications.
I gave a call this morning to the local SBDC, to set up an initial consultation. I called my father-in-law to request he set up a meeting for me with his former co-worker, a retired corporate patent attorney. They'll be having dinner together on Friday.
It's time for some movement.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
UK teachers strike
Solidarity! America, anyone?
Here's a BBC article on the strike. Note the remark by the Schools Minister toward the end, saying the average teacher earns about £34,000. That's about US$67,000. American teachers make about 50% less (though the chart is for median salaries not average), but the cost of living is on average rather more in the UK.
Here's a BBC article on the strike. Note the remark by the Schools Minister toward the end, saying the average teacher earns about £34,000. That's about US$67,000. American teachers make about 50% less (though the chart is for median salaries not average), but the cost of living is on average rather more in the UK.
Not the size of the steps that matter...
... but the sheer fact that one foot follows the other, no matter how painfully, how slowly, how begrudgingly.
I think that describes my life as an entrepreneur at the moment. I want so much to feel sorry for myself... but I won't really allow that. There's too much at stake.
When setting out to swim the English Channel, it's important not to start by counting strokes. I'm so accustomed to seeking a sign: checking my email; dashing out to the mailbox, as soon as the carrier visits.
I'm addicted to measuring change. I check my investments daily more because it affords me something to do, some change to observe. I am palpably disappointed when the markets are closed, because I'm denied that sense of activity. When I'm gardening, I check on my plants each day, to see if a new shoot has emerged, or leaf unfurled. It's not that any of it matters from one day to the next. I know that. But without these little behaviors, I feel the geologist watching an iceberg from up close, blinking, staring.
I've been keeping my schedule on a calendar, marking down my moment to moment activities (15 minutes on email; 30 minutes reading news and blogs; 1 hour reviewing and modifying documents). It keeps me accountable, honest.
I called a local college about posting a student internship for programming assistance. As much as anything, I think I just want company, an ear, someone to reflect off of. I value Rocket's input, but the opportunities are infrequent.
I signed up for a 2-hour workshop next Monday on starting a technology business at the small business development center of a major research university a couple hours drive away. I looked into joining the county's Inventors & Entrepreneurs club. Next meeting in a couple weeks. I lift my leg almost imperceptibly, and take a step, shufflingly, like someone recovering movement after paralysis. Step by step, I move, I creep, I slither toward a goal.
I think that describes my life as an entrepreneur at the moment. I want so much to feel sorry for myself... but I won't really allow that. There's too much at stake.
When setting out to swim the English Channel, it's important not to start by counting strokes. I'm so accustomed to seeking a sign: checking my email; dashing out to the mailbox, as soon as the carrier visits.
I'm addicted to measuring change. I check my investments daily more because it affords me something to do, some change to observe. I am palpably disappointed when the markets are closed, because I'm denied that sense of activity. When I'm gardening, I check on my plants each day, to see if a new shoot has emerged, or leaf unfurled. It's not that any of it matters from one day to the next. I know that. But without these little behaviors, I feel the geologist watching an iceberg from up close, blinking, staring.
I've been keeping my schedule on a calendar, marking down my moment to moment activities (15 minutes on email; 30 minutes reading news and blogs; 1 hour reviewing and modifying documents). It keeps me accountable, honest.
I called a local college about posting a student internship for programming assistance. As much as anything, I think I just want company, an ear, someone to reflect off of. I value Rocket's input, but the opportunities are infrequent.
I signed up for a 2-hour workshop next Monday on starting a technology business at the small business development center of a major research university a couple hours drive away. I looked into joining the county's Inventors & Entrepreneurs club. Next meeting in a couple weeks. I lift my leg almost imperceptibly, and take a step, shufflingly, like someone recovering movement after paralysis. Step by step, I move, I creep, I slither toward a goal.
Bittersweet Lamb Shank
In honor of passover leftovers.
Ingredients:
Ingredients:
- ~1 lb. lamb shank (bone and gristle removed, meat cubed)
- 1-2 small carrots (diced small)
- 1/2 medium onion (chopped small)
- 1 c. petite diced tomatoes.
- 1/4 c. raisins (finely chopped)
- 1/2 c. apple sauce
- couple dashes of paprika
- 1-2 tsp. or to taste of garam masala (I made my own, but you can purchase it as well)
- 1 tsp. freshly ground horseradish root (or from a jar)
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Not to fail
Following up on yesterday's post: I recently joined an online community based around the blog OnStartups. There was a recent article there about why startups fail, which reinforced my view. It's not the cash that is the concern, it's the commitment.
Years ago, I ran a landscaping business. It started with a $60 used lawn mower which hung perilously out the trunk of my 1982 Honda Prelude. I knocked on doors and picked up some cash. But I worked to get regular contracts with customers. Each "contract" I acquired, I would go and buy another tool or piece of equipment (a hand pruner, a weed whip, a shovel). Three years later, I leased a brand new Ford F-150, and loaded it with a $3500 walk-behind lawn mower, that could cut an acre of tall grass in under an hour.
The point was, my startup (while never a million dollar business) succeeded. It succeeded because my commitment remained. It succeeded because I spent less than I brought in (though at times only barely).
Now I'm in a different sort of startup. There is much work to do before I have a marketable product. The proofs-of-concept that I'm working on will only show what's possible. With some luck, and a great heaping of ingenuity, I'll figure a way to make those kernels of possibility useful to someone, a way to make them saleable, enough to sustain the business until the next stage.
But what's important at this stage is that I maintain my passion, my excitement, my commitment. I believe in this. I believe in what I'm doing far more than I believe it worthwhile to enslave myself to an academic system that abuses its scholars and students, that overworks them, overcrowds them, underpays them. I'm still sad about that. But I have no regrets about walking away.
I keep reminding myself of why I am here, why I am on my own. This was not my first choice. I had hoped against hope that I could be hired by a university, supported by an institution to continue teaching and pursuing my research; next, I had hoped a possibility would emerge to be hired by industry to pursue research and development in the areas of my interest and expertise. But none of those panned out. Rather than abandon myself, however, I have chosen this path.
I can't say that it is any the worse for my not having chosen it first. Perhaps it's like requesting the daily special at a restaurant, only to be told it's all sold out; Returning to the menu, there's no telling the next choice won't surpassingly delight.
Now to work. My father-in-law has been called to jury duty this week, so I have a hiatus from basement finishing, which I plan to use well for diving into the research and business.
Years ago, I ran a landscaping business. It started with a $60 used lawn mower which hung perilously out the trunk of my 1982 Honda Prelude. I knocked on doors and picked up some cash. But I worked to get regular contracts with customers. Each "contract" I acquired, I would go and buy another tool or piece of equipment (a hand pruner, a weed whip, a shovel). Three years later, I leased a brand new Ford F-150, and loaded it with a $3500 walk-behind lawn mower, that could cut an acre of tall grass in under an hour.
The point was, my startup (while never a million dollar business) succeeded. It succeeded because my commitment remained. It succeeded because I spent less than I brought in (though at times only barely).
Now I'm in a different sort of startup. There is much work to do before I have a marketable product. The proofs-of-concept that I'm working on will only show what's possible. With some luck, and a great heaping of ingenuity, I'll figure a way to make those kernels of possibility useful to someone, a way to make them saleable, enough to sustain the business until the next stage.
But what's important at this stage is that I maintain my passion, my excitement, my commitment. I believe in this. I believe in what I'm doing far more than I believe it worthwhile to enslave myself to an academic system that abuses its scholars and students, that overworks them, overcrowds them, underpays them. I'm still sad about that. But I have no regrets about walking away.
I keep reminding myself of why I am here, why I am on my own. This was not my first choice. I had hoped against hope that I could be hired by a university, supported by an institution to continue teaching and pursuing my research; next, I had hoped a possibility would emerge to be hired by industry to pursue research and development in the areas of my interest and expertise. But none of those panned out. Rather than abandon myself, however, I have chosen this path.
I can't say that it is any the worse for my not having chosen it first. Perhaps it's like requesting the daily special at a restaurant, only to be told it's all sold out; Returning to the menu, there's no telling the next choice won't surpassingly delight.
Now to work. My father-in-law has been called to jury duty this week, so I have a hiatus from basement finishing, which I plan to use well for diving into the research and business.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Another day: seeking ground
I had one day last week, which I could call a productive full day of work. Continuing work on the basement is a major distraction. It's Passover, so the holidays are also a distraction (which I suppose they are supposed to be).
Today I had hoped to spend the whole day "at work". It hasn't turned out that way. Finding and maintaining focus are difficult but crucial. Finding and maintaining enthusiasm and commitment for my research are essential. It's one thing to come up with an idea (or a set of ideas), and to believe in them. It's quite another to retain that confidence (and the energy that must accompany it) throughout the requisite duration of leading the idea to fruition!
I've got ideas. I talk about them excitedly. I see their usefulness, their worth, their practicality. But it takes more than that. I need to do the work. And some of that work is drudgery: coding and testing, and revising.
This is what lies before me at this juncture. Yet, living life with all its indelicacies (for a parent of young children there are many) is inevitable as well. The basement needs finishing in part because it gives the boys somewhere else to be besides the living room just on the other side of my office wall, and will provide a sound barrier.
I think perhaps the noise in my mind is the bigger issue. Patience, perseverance, a bit of pluck.
Today I had hoped to spend the whole day "at work". It hasn't turned out that way. Finding and maintaining focus are difficult but crucial. Finding and maintaining enthusiasm and commitment for my research are essential. It's one thing to come up with an idea (or a set of ideas), and to believe in them. It's quite another to retain that confidence (and the energy that must accompany it) throughout the requisite duration of leading the idea to fruition!
I've got ideas. I talk about them excitedly. I see their usefulness, their worth, their practicality. But it takes more than that. I need to do the work. And some of that work is drudgery: coding and testing, and revising.
This is what lies before me at this juncture. Yet, living life with all its indelicacies (for a parent of young children there are many) is inevitable as well. The basement needs finishing in part because it gives the boys somewhere else to be besides the living room just on the other side of my office wall, and will provide a sound barrier.
I think perhaps the noise in my mind is the bigger issue. Patience, perseverance, a bit of pluck.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Whenever you close a door...
A couple days ago, I received an email from the director of a workshop/institute in Canada, who had initially contacted me a year ago inviting me to participate as a speaker. Because of conflicts I was unable to take part, but we left the possibility open for future collaborations. The recent letter was rather thorough, with an update on what has been happening with the institute, and with her invitations and talks in the interim. She wrote in particular to ask if I'd be available to meet for a couple days this summer with some of her colleagues to discuss possible links between my work and theirs.
She wrote back immediately:
____________
Meantime, our house is almost in order. The basement begins to look less like a city dump, and more like a work-in-progress. We've framed the entire family/entertainment room, and are ready to start putting in the electrical. Another couple weeks? My father-in-law comes over about two days a week, for us to work on it.
We're almost done with all the unpacking. We opted to keep the Painter home for the remainder of this school year, then start him in first grade in the fall. We were rather unimpressed with the next school over, where he'd need be sent for the rest of kindergarten. This will give us some chance to visit the zoned school (and possibly others in the district if that proves equally uninspiring).
I'm wishing very much that I could have a normal week of working again. But moving takes time. It's good to be here though. I can say that with confidence. It's good to have a home again, to own a home again. It's good to have a sense that we're on a solid footing, that we're taken care of for a while, that we need not worry too much about finances, and can focus on life. One step at a time.
I am wondering whether you might be interested in having a conversation about possible links. I continue to feel that your work and background would suit a fruitful interaction.I wrote back to say it was nice to hear from her, to update her a bit on my status, and to say, yes, if she could arrange it, I should be available to fly in for a two-day meeting.
She wrote back immediately:
Good to read from you. Yes, it's a tough road to find the sort of position you're looking for in academe. We're in the midst of trying to make a pitch for some of that here, and [the institute] is a centrepiece of that plan. Out of curiousity - does your news about stopping the frustrating job search mean that you would not take a position if it fell into your lap? (not offering, but in a longer-term sense things may emerge here...)And so, the saga continues. I've learned however to count on nothing (except myself, and my family). That said, of course I'm intrigued by her continuing interest in my work. Would I consider a position that fell in my lap? Surely. Would I take it? Depends on the position.
____________
Meantime, our house is almost in order. The basement begins to look less like a city dump, and more like a work-in-progress. We've framed the entire family/entertainment room, and are ready to start putting in the electrical. Another couple weeks? My father-in-law comes over about two days a week, for us to work on it.
We're almost done with all the unpacking. We opted to keep the Painter home for the remainder of this school year, then start him in first grade in the fall. We were rather unimpressed with the next school over, where he'd need be sent for the rest of kindergarten. This will give us some chance to visit the zoned school (and possibly others in the district if that proves equally uninspiring).
I'm wishing very much that I could have a normal week of working again. But moving takes time. It's good to be here though. I can say that with confidence. It's good to have a home again, to own a home again. It's good to have a sense that we're on a solid footing, that we're taken care of for a while, that we need not worry too much about finances, and can focus on life. One step at a time.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
You ain't from around here, are you?
Seen on Smart Cookie:
The only thing missing from the quiz (which might have revealed the rest of my accent -- I grew up about half in Baltimore, half in NYC) would deal with the distinction between the words "have" and "halve". In my dialect, the vowels are remarkably different. The a-with-"silent l" vowel is something most of you may never have encountered, along the lines of ä-uh. Otherwise, a fair quiz.
Oh yeah... and the word "water" (in my native, though somewhat abandoned pronunciation) is along the lines of "wood-er".
| What American accent do you have? Your Result: Philadelphia Your accent is as Philadelphian as a cheesesteak! If you're not from Philadelphia, then you're from someplace near there like south Jersey, Baltimore, or Wilmington. if you've ever journeyed to some far off place where people don't know that Philly has an accent, someone may have thought you talked a little weird even though they didn't have a clue what accent it was they heard. | |
| The Northeast | |
| The Midland | |
| The Inland North | |
| The South | |
| Boston | |
| The West | |
| North Central | |
| What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz | |
The only thing missing from the quiz (which might have revealed the rest of my accent -- I grew up about half in Baltimore, half in NYC) would deal with the distinction between the words "have" and "halve". In my dialect, the vowels are remarkably different. The a-with-"silent l" vowel is something most of you may never have encountered, along the lines of ä-uh. Otherwise, a fair quiz.
Oh yeah... and the word "water" (in my native, though somewhat abandoned pronunciation) is along the lines of "wood-er".
Dust settling (or is that snow?)
Why yes, it has snowed, a couple times since we got here. Yesterday, flurries. Meanwhile it's touching 90F in our old haunts. I don't miss them.
I'm a chameleon, I guess. Roll with the punches. I'm still sad (and a bit bitter) about the state of affairs that pits education at the bottom rung of our societal ladder. But I recognize part of the fault lies with any of us who are willing to accept those conditions without a fight. I walked away, not simply because it allowed me to retrieve my dignity and self-respect, but also because I think it's the best thing to do for a broken system, to let it falter, then help rebuild it (when the time comes). Perhaps I'm a bit too grand, but the drama helps me through the frustration, aids me in accepting the difference between where I have power to choose, and where I do not.
Meantime, I finished our tax return, and discovered with pleasure that we'll be getting a handsome refund. I made preliminary application for some state support (in particular health care), which if it comes through will save us a pretty penny, while I work to build my research into something viable and supporting. Then, we got an apologetic call from our former landlady today, saying she's putting our security deposit refund check in the mail in the morning, and that she's returning most of it. I already got back the bulk of the security deposit on my office rental. We have two more "paid family leave" checks coming for Rocket. The moving expenses are already covered.
Looks like it'll be mid-summer before we need to take more cash out of savings for expenses. That's welcome news. We're still settling in, unpacking, organizing. My father-in-law and I are still working to finish off half the basement. We've got some more details to work out with registering the Painter for the fall, and enrolling him to finish out this year of kindergarten if we can reasonably.
Otherwise, I'm about ready to dig into my research and coding, undistracted (or at least with fewer distractions). Life is good.
I'm a chameleon, I guess. Roll with the punches. I'm still sad (and a bit bitter) about the state of affairs that pits education at the bottom rung of our societal ladder. But I recognize part of the fault lies with any of us who are willing to accept those conditions without a fight. I walked away, not simply because it allowed me to retrieve my dignity and self-respect, but also because I think it's the best thing to do for a broken system, to let it falter, then help rebuild it (when the time comes). Perhaps I'm a bit too grand, but the drama helps me through the frustration, aids me in accepting the difference between where I have power to choose, and where I do not.
Meantime, I finished our tax return, and discovered with pleasure that we'll be getting a handsome refund. I made preliminary application for some state support (in particular health care), which if it comes through will save us a pretty penny, while I work to build my research into something viable and supporting. Then, we got an apologetic call from our former landlady today, saying she's putting our security deposit refund check in the mail in the morning, and that she's returning most of it. I already got back the bulk of the security deposit on my office rental. We have two more "paid family leave" checks coming for Rocket. The moving expenses are already covered.
Looks like it'll be mid-summer before we need to take more cash out of savings for expenses. That's welcome news. We're still settling in, unpacking, organizing. My father-in-law and I are still working to finish off half the basement. We've got some more details to work out with registering the Painter for the fall, and enrolling him to finish out this year of kindergarten if we can reasonably.
Otherwise, I'm about ready to dig into my research and coding, undistracted (or at least with fewer distractions). Life is good.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
First travail: public school
Monday morning I took the Painter in for his kindergarten testing. The magnet school we'd like to get him in is all booked for this year. We can get on the waiting list for next year. The zoned school (one of the reasons we chose this neighborhood) is likewise all booked for the year. They're supported by a federal grant that mandates a maximum class size of 15. So, they'd like to bus him off to another school with class sizes around 30 (30! for kindergarten). Um... no thanks.
There are three schools in town with the mandated smaller class size. I called them both, to see if we could have him enrolled there for the remainder of this year. Apparently, the school district requires the local school to take him next year regardless. One of the other two low student/teacher ratio schools is similarly booked. I haven't heard back from the other.
We may just keep him out of kindergarten for the remainder of this year. It's upheaval enough, to move in the middle of the school year. I'd rather avoid the upheaval again, after a couple months of attending one school (crammed into an oversized classroom), of starting over at yet another school in town.
I think it's absurd the low priority my country (and compatriots) put on education. Constant headlines complain over the supposed profligacy of spending for education. Um... where? Sure, I'd be willing to accept that there is some waste, but I'd say none of it can be attributed to teacher's salaries. And it pales in comparison to the huge sums of missing or misappropriated funds in the military and foreign aid programs.
What we really need in this country is to double or triple the number of teachers (from Kindergarten through Graduate School) and significantly increase salaries along the way. Despite the arguments in this article, there is no problem with too many teachers, and there is no reason to believe that the pool of public and private funds is too low to both increase the ranks and increase their salaries. According to that article, a $10,000 across the board increase in salaries and benefits would amount to $40 billion. Put it in perspective: that's less than 10% of current annual U.S. military expenditures. That's 20% less than the "bridge funding" for Iraq & Afghanistan in the 2007 budget.
I think we could afford it. I think we have cause to shift our priorities.
If salaries and benefits (and public esteem for education) increased, there would be greater interest from a broader swath of potential teachers. There would be an increase in supply, as more and more college graduates considered teaching a worthy and rewarding profession, thereby allowing for greater competition (without cutting demand). I don't see any lack of competition or supply in higher education (if anything there is the opposite... but too little funding, too few positions).
It all comes down to this: increase funding for education. PERIOD!
There are three schools in town with the mandated smaller class size. I called them both, to see if we could have him enrolled there for the remainder of this year. Apparently, the school district requires the local school to take him next year regardless. One of the other two low student/teacher ratio schools is similarly booked. I haven't heard back from the other.
We may just keep him out of kindergarten for the remainder of this year. It's upheaval enough, to move in the middle of the school year. I'd rather avoid the upheaval again, after a couple months of attending one school (crammed into an oversized classroom), of starting over at yet another school in town.
I think it's absurd the low priority my country (and compatriots) put on education. Constant headlines complain over the supposed profligacy of spending for education. Um... where? Sure, I'd be willing to accept that there is some waste, but I'd say none of it can be attributed to teacher's salaries. And it pales in comparison to the huge sums of missing or misappropriated funds in the military and foreign aid programs.
What we really need in this country is to double or triple the number of teachers (from Kindergarten through Graduate School) and significantly increase salaries along the way. Despite the arguments in this article, there is no problem with too many teachers, and there is no reason to believe that the pool of public and private funds is too low to both increase the ranks and increase their salaries. According to that article, a $10,000 across the board increase in salaries and benefits would amount to $40 billion. Put it in perspective: that's less than 10% of current annual U.S. military expenditures. That's 20% less than the "bridge funding" for Iraq & Afghanistan in the 2007 budget.
I think we could afford it. I think we have cause to shift our priorities.
If salaries and benefits (and public esteem for education) increased, there would be greater interest from a broader swath of potential teachers. There would be an increase in supply, as more and more college graduates considered teaching a worthy and rewarding profession, thereby allowing for greater competition (without cutting demand). I don't see any lack of competition or supply in higher education (if anything there is the opposite... but too little funding, too few positions).
It all comes down to this: increase funding for education. PERIOD!
Monday, April 7, 2008
Prelude to routine
Beethoven's The Creatures of Prometheus plays mildly on a portable boom box on my office desk, cluttered by random piles of papers and miscellaneia that haven't found a permanent location yet. The CD was one we had lent a friend, returned the day before we moved, so it was readily accessible.
The window shades are opened, so I can look outside, rather than at the brown walls (which I will repaint someday to brighten up this room). The door is closed. I'll have to work out a signal with the family to indicate when I'm actually working. A closed door should serve for now.
The sounds of the boys bounding up and down the stairs (just outside my office door) are only slightly muffled by Beethoven's Opus 43. Perhaps when the basement is finished, they'll spend more time down there. We shall see.
The sun shines brightly on this new week, beckoning us to invention (and reinvention).
The window shades are opened, so I can look outside, rather than at the brown walls (which I will repaint someday to brighten up this room). The door is closed. I'll have to work out a signal with the family to indicate when I'm actually working. A closed door should serve for now.
The sounds of the boys bounding up and down the stairs (just outside my office door) are only slightly muffled by Beethoven's Opus 43. Perhaps when the basement is finished, they'll spend more time down there. We shall see.
The sun shines brightly on this new week, beckoning us to invention (and reinvention).
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Perspective
Ah yes. There is indeed a floor in this house. The moving truck arrived on Wednesday morning. Rocket, the Composer, and I spent the night before in an empty house on an air mattress in what is now our bedroom. Our car and van arrived Wednesday as well, at my inlaws' house. They drove them (and the two older boys) over in the afternoon. It's been a hectic more than a week, what with travelling, and waiting, and finally FINALLY unpacking.
We've a home again. It's ours. At least as much as any home is really one's own. I've realized (at least at this point in my life) the difference between renting and owning is a somewhat subtle distinction. It means we can do what we want with the house (barring local regulations to the contrary) without asking anyone's permission. Yet that subtle distinction makes a world of difference.
But we don't own it really. It's 80% owned by the bank. The window coverings are someone else's residue. The rusty or leaky pipes are someone else's neglect. We've simply inherited it, like some forgotten uncle's vineyard. The changes, the choices now, are our own.
__________
We've heard every day the same question: So, uh, why'd you move here? And though we struggle, just a bit, to clarify our reasons (even if we simplify them), the question itself is validation somehow that we are keeping perspective, that we have prioritized our lives, that we have decided what we value. And that makes a world of difference.
I sit now, at my reassembled black-brown Ikea galant corner desk with its two extensions, in a too-darkly-painted 10'x10' room, with stacks of boxes, two large bookcases, and three printers. I type on my friend Moose, the computer that has succeeded my old laptop DI in my affections. This is my office. I've set up the wireless network. In fact, the first appliance we brought to the house was the cable modem the internet company installed on Tuesday morning.
My father-in-law and I had been working on finishing off half the basement, until unpacking became the order. We've got a 12'x10' room mostly framed, which will serve as the entertainment center/family room/playspace once its done. The living room contains two sofas, an arm chair and two large book cases. The piano is in the dining room. We removed the second fridge to the garage (in California they rent houses without most appliances, so we brought our fridge, washer and dryer with us). [Don't worry, Tracy, pictures are coming. I promise.]
Many little details still to attend to. I've our taxes to finish in the next week or so. The Painter will take his entrance testing tomorrow for the local school district. I'll talk with them to find out what our options are for the rest of this year and for next. Bit by bit. The bills come due in the next few weeks to cover our moving expenses. The last large chunk for our choice. Then we settle into a budget, and a routine.
Life is clay on a wheel, ours to spin and mold to the content of our hearts' imagination.
We've a home again. It's ours. At least as much as any home is really one's own. I've realized (at least at this point in my life) the difference between renting and owning is a somewhat subtle distinction. It means we can do what we want with the house (barring local regulations to the contrary) without asking anyone's permission. Yet that subtle distinction makes a world of difference.
But we don't own it really. It's 80% owned by the bank. The window coverings are someone else's residue. The rusty or leaky pipes are someone else's neglect. We've simply inherited it, like some forgotten uncle's vineyard. The changes, the choices now, are our own.
__________
We've heard every day the same question: So, uh, why'd you move here? And though we struggle, just a bit, to clarify our reasons (even if we simplify them), the question itself is validation somehow that we are keeping perspective, that we have prioritized our lives, that we have decided what we value. And that makes a world of difference.
I sit now, at my reassembled black-brown Ikea galant corner desk with its two extensions, in a too-darkly-painted 10'x10' room, with stacks of boxes, two large bookcases, and three printers. I type on my friend Moose, the computer that has succeeded my old laptop DI in my affections. This is my office. I've set up the wireless network. In fact, the first appliance we brought to the house was the cable modem the internet company installed on Tuesday morning.
My father-in-law and I had been working on finishing off half the basement, until unpacking became the order. We've got a 12'x10' room mostly framed, which will serve as the entertainment center/family room/playspace once its done. The living room contains two sofas, an arm chair and two large book cases. The piano is in the dining room. We removed the second fridge to the garage (in California they rent houses without most appliances, so we brought our fridge, washer and dryer with us). [Don't worry, Tracy, pictures are coming. I promise.]
Many little details still to attend to. I've our taxes to finish in the next week or so. The Painter will take his entrance testing tomorrow for the local school district. I'll talk with them to find out what our options are for the rest of this year and for next. Bit by bit. The bills come due in the next few weeks to cover our moving expenses. The last large chunk for our choice. Then we settle into a budget, and a routine.
Life is clay on a wheel, ours to spin and mold to the content of our hearts' imagination.
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