I was greatly looking forward to Malcolm Gladwell’s new book, Outliers, having read his two other brilliant treatises, Blink and The Tipping Point. I so thoroughly enjoyed Outliers that it has inspired several blog ideas. I would go so far as to say that Outliers is the best book that I have read in the past decade or, at very least, in the pantheon of one of the very best.

The thesis for Outliers is that the classic “rags to riches” story of the self-made man is bunk. He focuses on from whence do these so-called successful outliers truly come. In his estimation, they are a product of their environment among other factors. However much I would like to attribute my own successes to my DNA, I have to humbly admit that I am a product of circumstances, legacy, and luck. That is not humility but the very core of truth. My blogs will feature a story from Mr. Gladwell’s book that I find fascinating and then relate how I see myself within the context of that story. Of course, in deference to Gladwell’s genius (or should I say environmental good fortune), I will only reveal a select handful of stories to encourage you to read the entire book, which is a worthy read.

Let’s begin with a boy genius, Bill Gates…or is that the case? Everyone is familiar with his story, nerdy braniac drops out of Harvard to start a fledgling business called Microsoft that turns into a global multi-billion dollar empire. Did Bill Gates rise from nowhere? Not really. He was a product of a very special time and place that fostered his success in an unequivocally tangible way.

Gates grew up in Seattle to well-to-do parents and was enrolled in an elite, private high school, Lakeside. Lakeside just happened to have a Mother’s Club that raised $3000 dollars to start a computer club in 1968, which didn’t even exist at major universities at that time. Most computer programming used an unfathomably laborious technique known as a computer-card system. Gates’ high school relied instead on an advanced time-sharing system that greatly facilitated his ability to program efficiently and effortlessly. When the money ran out for his computer club, a mother of one of the Lakeside boys just happened to need a programmer at a computer company called C-Cubed, which turned into another opportunity to work at ISI then TRW. He happened to be within walking distance of the University of Washington, which allowed him to work on computers between 3 and 6 am. Now none of all that would be that remarkable today. But that was 1968 when computers really did not exist and computer programming opportunities were nil. Gladwell argues that the software billionaires of today all came of age at a very narrow window in time with a narrow timeframe of 1953-55 birthdates: Bill Gates 1955, Paul Allen 1953, Steve Ballmer 1956, Steve Jobs 1955, Eric Schmidt 1955, Bill Joy 1954 (btw a great story of Bill Joy, the founder of the Internet and UNIX code in the book), etc.

I look back at my circumstances that has catapulted me to write 5 books in 5 years, have published hundreds of scientific papers and book chapters, to write a blog every day without too much difficulty, to respond to thousands of forum posts within minutes, to speak on live TV in front of millions of people without a blink, to lecture without notes, to create a video log almost every day with no prepared or studied notes, and to love every minute of it.

It began I believe in high school when I was an over-achieving Asian kid who did not fit in entirely. I was particularly sensitive about my ethnicity and for me without natural athletic abilities I strived to differentiate myself from being a stereotypical Asian kid good at math and science. I became the editor-in-chief of the yearbook and the editor-in-chief of the literary magazine Reflections, etc. To be honest, I was a terrible writer who struggled with putting down a sentence let alone a paragraph. I think I had some animadversion to science in college partly to fight the stereotype of the Asian math whiz. However, I was drawn incredibly to the study of history. My years at Princeton and the need to write a several hundred page thesis before graduating forced me to write, write, and write. It put me in an environment to write and to cultivate my craft. History is perhaps the most recognized major at Princeton due to the quality of the professors and that pulled me to major in a field that was my worse subject and most hated in high school. Also, the small preceptorial system compelled me to begin to be comfortable with spoken argument and presenting my ideas out loud. However, I was still dreadfully afraid of public speaking.

I remember that I have always been enamored by my uncle, Sir David Lam (yes, he has been knighted by the Queen of England), who was the Lieutenant Governor (that would be Governor here Stateside since the Governor of Canada is the Queen of England) and who had the uncanny ability to speak extemporaneously without notes at public gatherings. He was always an idol to me and continues to be now in his mid 80s. I remember being so frightened of public speaking that the idea of it made me physically ill. I gave my speeches always with prepared notes that I had to read because a small blink would make me forget what I was saying or at least that is what I thought. I remember it was not until my fellowship with Ed Williams that I was called by Susan, his administrator, “Sam, Dr. Williams is sick tonight. You will have to give his seminar for him.” I was at the gym at the time, got off the treadmill, and basically panicked. I had no time to prepare and even if I did, it would not be my lecture but someone else’s. I gave the speech that night with tremendous trepidation without notes and resorted to my usual humorous asides when nervous. I had an overwhelming reception and it paved my way to be a much more comfortable public speaker.

Without these life circumstances and a catalog that would take a thousand blogs to fill, I would not be where I am today. I will discuss more in-depth other forces that have clearly shaped me external to any magical DNA that I may possess.