Creativity, Inc.: Overcoming the Unseen Forces That Stand in the Way of True Inspiration

by Ed Catmull

If only it were that simple. “How do you become more creative?”—so many people have asked me that since this book debuted. Every time, I’ve told them that is the wrong question. The right question is: What cultural forces are getting in the way of creativity?

Great ideas really can come from anyone, and it is the leader’s job to make sure everyone feels free to contribute.

Alvy lobbied for “Pixer,” which he imagined to be a (fake) Spanish verb meaning “to make pictures.” Loren countered with “Radar,” which he thought sounded more high-tech. That’s when it hit them: Pixer + radar = Pixar! It stuck.

The Lady and the Lamp—an homage to Disney’s Lady and the Tramp—whose main character, a white desk lamp, would later evolve into our Pixar logo.

Being on the lookout for problems, I realized, was not the same as seeing problems.

Getting the right people and the right chemistry is more important than getting the right idea.

Find, develop, and support good people, and they in turn will find, develop, and own good ideas.

If we are in this for the long haul, we have to take care of ourselves, support healthy habits, and encourage our employees to have fulfilling lives outside of work.

This means creating a culture in which taking maternity or paternity leave is not seen as an impediment to career advancement. That may not sound revolutionary, but at many companies, parents know that taking that leave comes at a cost; a truly committed employee, they are wordlessly told, wants to be at work. That’s not true at Pixar.

For example, when our younger employees—those without families—work longer hours than those who are parents, we must be mindful not to compare the output of these two groups without being mindful of the context.

You are not your idea, and if you identify too closely with your ideas, you will take offense when they are challenged.

At Apple, he had the reputation for being deeply involved in the most minute detail of every product, but at Pixar, he didn’t believe that his instincts were better than those of the people here, so he stayed out. That’s how much candor matters at Pixar: It overrides hierarchy.

If you aren’t experiencing failure, then you are making a far worse mistake: You are being driven by the desire to avoid it.

Is the question being asked: Whose fault was this? If so, your culture is one that vilifies failure. Failure is difficult enough without it being compounded by the search for a scapegoat.

It is easy to be critical of the micromanaging many managers resort to, yet we must acknowledge the rock and the hard place we often place them between. If they have to choose between meeting a deadline and some less well defined mandate to “nurture” their people, they will pick the deadline every time.

(I’ve often thought that the word accountability, as used in the corporate setting, does more than anything else to keep our fear of failure alive.

It is one of life’s cruel ironies that when it comes to feeding the Beast, success only creates more pressure to hurry up and succeed again. Which is why at too many companies, the schedule (that is, the need for product) drives the output, not the strength of the ideas at the front end.

A large portion of what we manage can’t be measured, and not realizing this has unintended consequences.

The meditators’ brains were paying attention to the pain, McGonigal explained, but because they knew how to turn off the inner chatter—the running commentary our untrained brains, or monkey minds, so happily serve up—they were better able to tolerate pain than those who did not practice meditation.

It is sobering to think that in trying to be mindful, some of us accidentally end up being exactly the opposite. We deflect and ignore.

each movie at Disney had been set up to compete for resources, so they were not bonded as a group.

“Notes Day is the proof that Pixar cares about people as much as about finances.”

It seems so likely that we all visualize in similar ways, that it doesn’t occur to most people to even ask about the experience of others.

I’ve come to believe that instead of measuring where your work ends and the work of another begins, it is far better to ask: How do you connect with other people?

Does the least powerful person in the room feel safe to talk?

I have no way of judging what someone’s talents are, but I can work to remove what stands in their way. I can make the environment better. The rest is up to them.

Steve focused on the problem itself, not the filmmakers, which made his critiques all the more powerful.

We frequently support the idea of pushing boundaries in theory, ignoring the trouble it can cause in practice.

If there is more truth in the hallways than in meetings, you have a problem.