If left up to the editors, no new tool would ever be designed and no improvements would be possible. They saw no advantage to change and couldn’t imagine how using a computer would make their work easier or better. But if we designed the new system in a vacuum, moving ahead without the editors’ input, we would end up with a tool that didn’t address their needs. Being confident about the value of our innovation was not enough. We needed buy-in from the community we were trying to serve. Without it, we were forced to abandon our plans.

The first principle was “Story Is King,” by which we meant that we would let nothing - not
the technology, not the merchandising possibilities - get in the way of our story. We took
pride in the fact that reviewers talked mainly about the way Toy Story made them feel and not about the computer wizardry that enabled us to get it up on the screen. We believed that this was the direct result of our always keeping story as our guiding light.

The other principle we depended on was “Trust the Process.” We liked this one because it was so reassuring: While there are inevitably difficulties and missteps in any complex creative endeavor, you can trust that “the process” will carry you through. In some ways, this was no different than any optimistic aphorism (“Hang in there, baby!”), except that because our process was so different from other movie studios, we felt that it had real power. Pixar was a place that gave artists running room, that gave directors control, that trusted its people to solve problems. I have always been wary of maxims or rules because, all too often, they turn out to be empty platitudes that impede thoughtfulness, but these two principles actually seemed to help our people.

And yet, as we made those unconventional choices, everyone agreed, we needed to outline
better, more explicit steps to train and prepare those we felt had the necessary skills to make
movies. Instead of hoping that our director candidates would absorb our shared wisdom through osmosis, we resolved to create a formal mentoring program that would, in a sense,
give to others what Pete and Andrew and Lee had experienced working so closely with John
in the early days. Going forward, every established director would check in weekly with his
mentees - giving them both practical and motivational advice as they developed ideas they
hoped would become feature films.

The specific procedural changes will sound mundane to anyone who doesn’t work in animation - we implemented a faster, more secure way, to cite a tiny example, of delivering the latest cuts of films to directors - but when you add them all up, they mattered. In the weeks after Notes Day, we implemented four good ideas, committed to five more, and earmarked still a dozen more for continued development. All of them stood to improve either our processes, our culture, or the way Pixar is managed.

A few months before we closed the deal, George hired the producer Kathy Kennedy to run Lucasfilm. Kathy had cofounded Amblin Entertainment along with her husband, Frank Marshall, and Steven Spielberg, and had produced E.T. and the Jurassic Park franchise and dozens of critical and commercial hits. It was an interesting move on George’s part. We were on the verge of buying the company, but he suddenly decided who was going to run it and ultimately produce the upcoming films. It didn’t upset us, but it did come as a surprise, just as it surprised Kathy to learn that the company she was agreeing to run was about to be sold!