I have been a user of the internet since around 1989, when I was a student at a tiny college (~400 students) on the East Coast. I created my first website sometime in the early 90s, and have had a nearly constant web-presence ever since.
I have long believed that the essence of the internet is freely (and broadly) shared and distributed knowledge and information. The sharing of ideas is what I have most prized. At times, I have lamented the commercialization of the space, when it seemed to counter the free-flow of ideas. Commercialization in itself is not the enemy. Stifling creativity is.
So, where do I see my role now, as I labor to develop a new technology, one which I hope and believe can be transformative. In principle, I'd like to see this new technology as widespread as possible, accessible, available. But...
I wish to retain for myself some independence, some ability to sustain myself, my family, my work. I have no desire to give away the farm. I want to ensure there is enough land left for me to grow vegetables, for I enjoy tilling the earth, and I require sustenance. It's an apt metaphor.
It is easy for a fully-employed, tenured professor to create and support open source software and technology. It is in ways the life of a scholar to freely share ideas (though, of course, there is at times conflict over whose ideas they are.)
But what of an entrepreneur? And not just any entrepreneur. I am in ways one thrust upon this life-path by circumstance, frustrating, disappointing, discouraging, abandoning circumstance. I have so far no external supports. I'm like a boat adrift at sea, with no anchor, and no sail.
We shall see. I have been preparing to patent the very foundation of the research I am doing. I have thought to protect the underlying principles upon which all the work depends. If I can figure a way to get to market with products that may prove sustaining, that may render my company viable for the long-term, without needing to keep that foundation closed, I will. I will, because it would be a better world for the free-flow of ideas, for open sharing. I will, because the ideas will more likely be widespread if I do. But I only will, if I can reasonably see how to keep enough of the farm.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Cooking anyone?
Looking over recent draws to this blog, I've discovered that over 1/4 of traffic comes to find my recipes. Hmmm.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Abundance
Abundance is a good thing to have. I can't say that we are wealthy, but we have enough. Luckily, thanks to our savings and the generosity of state-sponsored benefits, we have enough to survive as a family in relative comfort for a few more years, without worrying too much about when and how much income. It is a luxury for which, though I think we are worthy of it, I am truly grateful.
What it gives us is an abundance of time. It's ours to choose how that time is spent. I'm plugging away at my business plans and research. I've realized that while I've been placing a priority on developing the materials for a patent application, what I really need is to develop some proofs-of-concept. These are complementary enterprises, so I'm not too concerned. It's just good to keep priorities in mind.
Time. To some extent, time is on my side. I'm in no rush. There is little to be gained from rushing through a patent application. Without the proofs-of-concept no one is going to take me and my technology seriously. That's an advantage as I see it. The only real threat is if there is some maverick or outsider like me out there who either gets whiff of what I'm doing (not terribly likely) or who is developing such things concurrently and happens to reduce to practice before I do. For now, I'm discounting that possibility as rather unlikely, since I think it takes an odd and eclectic background and interest (as well as the means to spend a great deal of time on the project) to get where I am and where I'm going.
I'm planning to keep up with my schedule this summer. I've actually worked out a fuller and more detailed plan in the past week (which incidentally includes this book chapter I agreed to write--a promise is a promise). I've been playing with Gantt charts (which I first used in my recent grant proposal). But I'm also planning to keep my life in perspective. I'm moving ahead my plans to get a workstation dedicated to the research and software development. I might go for it in the next few weeks. I'm planning to run a flavor of Linux (any recommendations or cautions... I'm leaning toward SuSE at the moment), and pick up some powerful (possibly expensive) industry-strength software for prototyping and algorithm development. It's time to get serious in that regard.
It's not all work though. Today, I cleared out much of the garage, enough to park our car in there alongside our minivan. We've been here three months, and this is the first time. This morning, I finished putting up the ceiling tiles in the basement family room. All that remains is staining and putting in the baseboards and the doors, getting an area rug or ordering carpeting, then organizing and cleaning up. I also consolidated my books and papers in the office onto one large bookshelf, and moved the second large bookshelf into the living room, to store games and toys. It's a big improvement for both rooms, and gives the office more space which will be needed especially when I get the second workstation. More cleaning and organizing tomorrow, and I've committed to keeping the home projects end up, even if it eats into some of my workweek hours. In the end, I'm sure my work time will be more productive (and my life more fulfilled).
As soon as the family room is finished, I can set up the exercise room. I'm feeling my age (or worse). I'm 40. Too many people die young. I think of Tony Snow. No fan of his, I assure you. But no one should die at 53! I think of Douglas Adams. I am a fan of his. My wife and I heard him speak about a week before he died in 2001, at the age of 49! My dad was 69 when he died of prostate cancer. Give me 30 more years, that's all I ask. But it's a tall order I know. It's best I do my part, meaning exercise for one.
What it gives us is an abundance of time. It's ours to choose how that time is spent. I'm plugging away at my business plans and research. I've realized that while I've been placing a priority on developing the materials for a patent application, what I really need is to develop some proofs-of-concept. These are complementary enterprises, so I'm not too concerned. It's just good to keep priorities in mind.
Time. To some extent, time is on my side. I'm in no rush. There is little to be gained from rushing through a patent application. Without the proofs-of-concept no one is going to take me and my technology seriously. That's an advantage as I see it. The only real threat is if there is some maverick or outsider like me out there who either gets whiff of what I'm doing (not terribly likely) or who is developing such things concurrently and happens to reduce to practice before I do. For now, I'm discounting that possibility as rather unlikely, since I think it takes an odd and eclectic background and interest (as well as the means to spend a great deal of time on the project) to get where I am and where I'm going.
I'm planning to keep up with my schedule this summer. I've actually worked out a fuller and more detailed plan in the past week (which incidentally includes this book chapter I agreed to write--a promise is a promise). I've been playing with Gantt charts (which I first used in my recent grant proposal). But I'm also planning to keep my life in perspective. I'm moving ahead my plans to get a workstation dedicated to the research and software development. I might go for it in the next few weeks. I'm planning to run a flavor of Linux (any recommendations or cautions... I'm leaning toward SuSE at the moment), and pick up some powerful (possibly expensive) industry-strength software for prototyping and algorithm development. It's time to get serious in that regard.
It's not all work though. Today, I cleared out much of the garage, enough to park our car in there alongside our minivan. We've been here three months, and this is the first time. This morning, I finished putting up the ceiling tiles in the basement family room. All that remains is staining and putting in the baseboards and the doors, getting an area rug or ordering carpeting, then organizing and cleaning up. I also consolidated my books and papers in the office onto one large bookshelf, and moved the second large bookshelf into the living room, to store games and toys. It's a big improvement for both rooms, and gives the office more space which will be needed especially when I get the second workstation. More cleaning and organizing tomorrow, and I've committed to keeping the home projects end up, even if it eats into some of my workweek hours. In the end, I'm sure my work time will be more productive (and my life more fulfilled).
As soon as the family room is finished, I can set up the exercise room. I'm feeling my age (or worse). I'm 40. Too many people die young. I think of Tony Snow. No fan of his, I assure you. But no one should die at 53! I think of Douglas Adams. I am a fan of his. My wife and I heard him speak about a week before he died in 2001, at the age of 49! My dad was 69 when he died of prostate cancer. Give me 30 more years, that's all I ask. But it's a tall order I know. It's best I do my part, meaning exercise for one.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Clean Slate
I am not by nature a particularly neat and organized person. At least, I'm not organized in a neat fashion. My wife would assure you that the picture of my desk above is a rather tame condition for the wilds I normally inhabit. (The walls are still a might bit dark for my taste, but that will have to await completion of the basement improvements).
My desk, in its state of disorganization, patiently awaited my return from a holiday. We arrived at the Lake House a week ago. Shortly after arriving, I took off my watch, as I readied to hit the water. I didn't put it back on until the drive home on Sunday.I spent a good deal of time on the water, in the row boat or canoe. It's not a big lake. About 10-15 minutes is enough for a full circuit in a boat. There are about 8 houses surrounding it (two of which are for sale!). But the family Lake House is at our disposal, so there's little need for us to purchase our own plot any time soon. Good to know it's there for our use as we wish. We might get a small sailboat (say 14-18') sometime to supplement the rowboat and canoe there. It'd be a nice place to practice.
It was overall a peaceful and refreshing break. Our visit to the Lake House last year in fact was a major factor in our deciding to move to these parts. Our requirements were simple: affordable, near family, near the water. Many places would have fit the bill. But the peacefulness of nature at the Lake House was a reminder of what we wanted to capture.There was little cause for my initial concern over spending five days away from home. I've sometimes felt a fish out of water during family vacations. I just let go this time. It helps of course, that there were others (mostly the inlaws) to entertain the boys much of the time, freeing me up to boat, or to read or just sit when the weather dictated.
In the end however, I find my slate has been wiped clean. I checked off the remaining two tasks on my to-do list this morning. I've spent much of the past couple days dealing with some technical issues regarding my websites and email servers.I've been reading up on some of the engineering side of the research I'm involved in. Before me lies the patent preparations. Immediately, my plan is to develop my "technology narrative," sort of a white paper to explain what I'm doing, its relevance, the procedures, the market. This will be the basis for the patent description, and also for future grant and funding proposals.
Even though I've got this goal, it's dauntingly open. At the moment, I have no hard deadlines. A soft one I've self-imposed of the end of the summer to have the patent materials completed. It's soft because I'm not certain whether I'll file a provisional or full utility patent, or whether I might put off the patent filing for a time once I've gone through the process. There may be reasons to delay, so I'm open to the prospect (as long as I'm poised to file with everything prepared).
Will I get the grant I submitted last month? No telling. It'd be nice, but it won't really change my plans one way or the other. The next round of deadlines for grants and such is October-December, so that won't occupy me this summer. It feels good to be where we are. But things have slowed down a bit. I just want to keep up the momentum, even while I'm enjoying a bit of coasting.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Late in the Season
I finally got the vegetable garden set today. About three weeks ago, I dug up the sod in a triangle bed just outside our back fence, along one edge of the driveway leading into our detached garage. It seemed a useless patch of grass, too small to play in, good for little more than an extra four minutes of weekly mowing. Silly, I thought... but it has a nice warm micro-climate, sheltered and insulated by the wood plank fence, and warmed by the concrete driveway, with a full-sun westward facing. Today, I finally finished with separating the soil from the roots, tossing the dying grass in a pile by the worm-bin, and tilling up the soil in the now vegetable patch.
We had bought a bunch of seeds to start the garden (along with some still languishing bulbs and tubers) that populate our back stairwell. I decided at this late stage in the season, it'd be better to plant some seedlings than to start seeds. The Inventor and I headed out to a couple garden centers. Tomatoes we found in abundance, but sweet peppers were hard to come by. Many varieties of hot pepper, but I could only locate two types of sweet (both oddly enough purple). So, we have a half dozen tomato plants, five hot peppers, four sweet (purple!) peppers, one bean plant, and three strawberries. I also bought a few packs of lettuce seedlings (which it's certainly too late to start from seed) in hopes that they'll provide us with a month or two of baby salad greens. I'll plant them along the inside of the fence tomorrow.
Still a little room in the triangle patch. Maybe I'll put in some seeds, or purchase a couple other plants (eggplant? more beans?) Not really enough room for cucumbers or zucchini there. I might find another spot (though I'm not sure it'll be this season). There's a lot to do in the garden besides. I was also planning on starting a small bed or two inside the fence, and have half a notion to plant some corn in the greenway along the street. We'll see. Anything that doesn't get done tomorrow will have to wait.
We'll be taking off for a few days starting on Tuesday. My wife's grandparents own a remote house near the Wisconsin Dells, on a dirt road, alongside a pond ("the lake house"), which is the venue for occasional family gatherings, most traditionally for the Fourth of July. We'll be heading up a couple days early, and staying on a couple days past.
No computer. It'll be five days without email, or internet. RocketMom promised she'd try to plan enough activities and outings so we wouldn't get bored. And I promise, I'll try to just be in the moment. Vacations are good... I'm just not always so good at being there.
We had bought a bunch of seeds to start the garden (along with some still languishing bulbs and tubers) that populate our back stairwell. I decided at this late stage in the season, it'd be better to plant some seedlings than to start seeds. The Inventor and I headed out to a couple garden centers. Tomatoes we found in abundance, but sweet peppers were hard to come by. Many varieties of hot pepper, but I could only locate two types of sweet (both oddly enough purple). So, we have a half dozen tomato plants, five hot peppers, four sweet (purple!) peppers, one bean plant, and three strawberries. I also bought a few packs of lettuce seedlings (which it's certainly too late to start from seed) in hopes that they'll provide us with a month or two of baby salad greens. I'll plant them along the inside of the fence tomorrow.
Still a little room in the triangle patch. Maybe I'll put in some seeds, or purchase a couple other plants (eggplant? more beans?) Not really enough room for cucumbers or zucchini there. I might find another spot (though I'm not sure it'll be this season). There's a lot to do in the garden besides. I was also planning on starting a small bed or two inside the fence, and have half a notion to plant some corn in the greenway along the street. We'll see. Anything that doesn't get done tomorrow will have to wait.
We'll be taking off for a few days starting on Tuesday. My wife's grandparents own a remote house near the Wisconsin Dells, on a dirt road, alongside a pond ("the lake house"), which is the venue for occasional family gatherings, most traditionally for the Fourth of July. We'll be heading up a couple days early, and staying on a couple days past.
No computer. It'll be five days without email, or internet. RocketMom promised she'd try to plan enough activities and outings so we wouldn't get bored. And I promise, I'll try to just be in the moment. Vacations are good... I'm just not always so good at being there.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Slow & Steady
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.
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.
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.
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