Eric and I didn’t have the resources of a research grant or access to a cutting-edge manufacturing facility; we had a TechShop membership. Given our circumstances, we never even entertained the idea of creating a complex design for the shell of our robot, instead focusing on the easiest tools to use that would be “good enough,” which in our case was laser-cut acrylic. This did more than just provide us a cheap and easy way to build our structure, it gave us an easy way to change our structure. This became incredibly useful after we began getting feedback from others who had built the device.

We also didn’t have the technical experience to design and build our own circuit boards, so we based the OpenROV on the popular maker products that everyone else was using, like Arduino. When we first started, there wasn’t actually an off-the-shelf product that could process the digital video we were capturing. It wasn’t until the original BeagleBone came out that we could finally afford to include a miniature Linux computer inside the robot (in terms of both cost and space inside the robot). As would happen numerous times with OpenROV, many of our problems were solved with technology that didn’t exist when we started.^[23] Like with the acrylic plastic, the modular design of the OpenROV makes it possible for us to upgrade the hardware whenever a better component comes along. And that’s happening with increasing frequency. That flexibility just isn’t possible for a design that comes from complex and specialized tooling.

The initial design constraints have become our biggest advantage in a fast-changing, community-oriented manufacturing environment. You have access to the same flexible tools that we did.

It went beyond resource constraints, though. There were also large knowledge gaps. Eric and I, like many makers at the beginning of their projects, couldn’t quite grasp the entirety of what needed to be done. Instead of hiding behind what we didn’t know, we flaunted our ignorance. We sought out other people and ideas that could help us achieve our goals. In doing so, we accidentally stumbled into the magic formula of DIT development and the tremendous power of collaborative creation.

Less than 8,000 days old, the Internet is still in its infancy. The power of being hyper-connected to one another is still brand new. In fact, we only know a little bit about it. Projects like Wikipedia and Linux have broken down the mental barriers to understanding the benefits of large-scale, collaborative, and distributed initiatives. As ideas become commonplace in the digital universe, the effects are starting to spill off the screen and into the real world. The maker movement is on the front lines of the spillover.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy. Every day I have to explain to someone how OpenROV actually works as a business—that giving away our designs actually makes financial sense. Many of us have been conditioned to be distrusting. We’re told that good ideas should be kept secret. There are still strong forces in the world that support those traditional means. Nevertheless, the power of radical collaboration is gaining momentum, and it’s gathered enough steam that enough people get the big picture.

Will it eventually win out over the traditional models? We’ll see. Will it fizzle out as just an overly optimistic ideal? I doubt it. Either way, they can’t say we weren’t having a lot more fun.

The subtitle of the book, Learn (Just Enough) to Make (Just About) Anything, is bold. It’s a tall claim—too tall, I worried.

It started off as a catchy phrase I used in the Kickstarter campaign for the book, and was a unanimously popular vote (among Kickstarter backers) for potential subtitles. At the time, it made me a little uncomfortable. I thought it might give the wrong impression about how much (and what kind of) information the book actually contained. However, as time went on, as I continued to write the book, and continued to follow and document the maker movement, my worry faded away. I came to truly believe in the possibility of making (just about) anything.

The topics and ideas that I never imagined possible—space travel, new species, hovercrafts—began popping up on Kickstarter, and then turning into tangible realities. I saw communities of collaborators create and launch DIY satellites (and groups form with the intention of creating DIY Rockets). I saw a project on Kickstarter raise over $300,000 to create glowing plants. I saw a replica of the Back to the Future DeLorean turned into a hovercraft and take a joy ride on the San Francisco Bay.

I saw wild dreams become a reality. Groups of passionate, excited makers are bringing ideas to life I had written off as impossible. I’ve since learned better.

Whether these groups achieve their goals remains to be seen, but at least they’ve re-centered the aim and given themselves more hope for a better future. Maybe we’ll have plants that replace light bulbs, or maybe we won’t. Maybe we’ll all be exploring the Marianas Trench from our laptops, or maybe it takes ten more years. But, we will get somewhere—we will learn something. Either way, we’ll certainly have an interesting story to tell, and at the end of the day, I think that’s what we’re all looking for: a better story to tell. A narrative with more meaning, more excitement, and more agency.

That’s the magic of the maker movement. It’s an opportunity to take back the story, to redefine our relationship with technology, and to shape the future in which we want to live. It’s an open invitation for everyone to participate—to contribute to the world we’re all making together.