We're all used to commencing a writing project under the assumption that the job at hand is a necessary one. "We need a report on XYZ" or "Small businesses need to know how to become an employer of choice". Often, though, these assumptions are false. Do we really need a report? Where did we get the idea that someone needs a guide on preventing bullying in the workplace? Agreed, if you have something to say that you think is valuable then there's every reason to write about it, but often we're guilty of telling people what we know, not what they need to know. What's the point of spending six months writing a beautiful guide on climate change mitigation strategy if no-one's going to read it?

I wrote this after someone asked me about patenting their new thingy, knowing I'd done some work in this space.

Your Eureka moment, the one where a big lightbulb goes ‘ting’ above your head, can quickly lead to thoughts of how to protect your newfound IP. But what does it take to get over the line? What sees a patent granted to one invention but not to another? There are some concepts I’d like to introduce to you.

A rather vigorous session on ABC talkback radio this morning highlighted for me the perils of not telling the full story.

Apparently (I didn’t hear the whole thing) a caller made an observation, something to the effect that ‘greedy baby boomers’ benefited from free education and cheap housing, and are now making life tough for the following generations because they’ve locked up all the resources and refuse to share.

Applying for a Visa for China had me a little clenched up recently. Not because of any concern that my application would be knocked back (I’m sure they’re gonna love me over there) but because the online application process is really unclear. It just meant that throughout the ordeal I wasn’t sure whether or not I was doing the right thing, and I couldn’t for the life of me switch off some worrying visions of my being marched into a dark room out the back of Chengdu Airport.

'You're not selling a vacuum cleaner, you're selling peace of mind.'

In many settings sales is about tricking people, and for some reason those who practise such trickery think we're all stupid enough to fall for it. I could tell that Candice, the sweet but dopey real estate agent who sold me my house, had been to this school of thought, when, upon ushering me into a pokey dining room, dramatically announced 'imagine yourself reading the paper in the sunshine by the window while the children play in the fully-enclosed yard.'

​This isn't just a dining room, dammit! It's a lifestyle! I didn't have the heart to tell her that we don't have kids.