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Archives for July 2007

Slaves to the inbox

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My latest Salon article is “Empty thine inbox” — a piece about e-mail overload hitched to reviews of three current books: “Send,” an e-mail etiquette guide by David Shipley and Will Schwalbe; Mark Hurst’s “Bit Literacy,” which outlines a methodology for personal-information management; and Mark Frauenfelder’s “Rule the Web,” a treasury of tips and tricks for taking control of, and enjoying, one’s online life.

The piece takes a brave stand against the injunction to maintain strict inbox hygiene:

My inbox is not a desk that must be cleared. It is a river from which I can always easily fish whatever needs my attention. Why try to push the river? Computer storage is cheaper than my time; archiving is easier than deleting… Do we really want the job of in-box attendant and e-mail folder file clerk? The mess is Augean scale, the job Sisyphean futile.

One other angle on this subject that I did not work into the article comes from Ducky Sherwood, who wrote books on how to handle e-mail burdens some years ago (and who also has a great resource page on all things email):

I’m a bit bothered by an implicit characterization that “email is the problem.” This isn’t fair to the medium. Your problem is that lots of people give you stuff to do. (“Read my message” falls into the category of “stuff to do”.) People have been overwhelmed by the amount of stuff that other people give them to do since long before email.

[tags]productivity, email, gtd, pims, personal information management[/tags]

Nielsen vs. Andreessen on blogging

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Over here, first, in this corner, we’ve got usability guru Jakob Nielsen. Nielsen is telling us that smart people will forget about blogging and write articles. Blogs, says Nielsen, are a dime a dozen. If you want to “demonstrate world-class expertise,” write long, in-depth articles that you can get people to pay for.

“Blog postings,” says Nielsen, “will always be commodity content: there’s a limit to the value you can provide with a short comment on somebody else’s comments.” Note how the definition has shifted without notice: all blog posts have somehow become “short comments on somebody else’s comments.”

As the article continues, Nielsen explains that his advice is aimed at the person who wants to establish that he is the number-one expert among the thousand bloggers in a field. This quantitative focus is awfully crude: among 1000 specialists, who’s to say there is a “number one”? By what measure? You’re going to find a whole range of sub-specialists and eccentrics, deep-niche experts and synthesizing generalists. But Nielsen’s analysis is built around this sort of comparative ranking. He maintains that, since blog posts are so variable in quality, a blog will never do a good job of showcasing your expertise. If you want to be top dog, make sure your barks are long and full of detailed research.

But Nielsen’s tract isn’t actually about how to become a “world-class expert” or even how to broadcast one’s world-class-expert-hood. It’s about the most efficient way to get people to pay for your content. Nielsen starts from the assumption that your goal isn’t self-expression or persuasion or enjoyment or anything besides customer acquisition. People won’t pay for blogs; therefore, blogging is a waste of time.

But no blogger I’ve ever heard of has actually tried to charge for content (tip jars are the closest anyone’s come). No one seems to want to do so; it runs counter to blogging’s DNA. Long, in-depth articles are a wonderful thing; who would dismiss their value? But Nielsen blithely dismisses the value in 999 out of a thousand blogs. He doesn’t seem to understand that, most of the time, that value is created not in hope of finding paying customers but, simply, for love.

Now then: here, in the other corner, we have Marc Andreessen. He’s the guy who whipped up the first popular Web browser for personal computers. In 2003 he rashly dissed the need for blogging, saying, “I have a day job. I don’t have the time or ego need.”

But he’s come around, and in the past few weeks he’s poured a huge amount of thought and energy into an impressive new blog. Yesterday, in a post titled “Eleven lessons learned about blogging, so far,” Andreessen wrote, “It is crystal clear to me now that at least in industries where lots of people are online, blogging is the single best way to communicate and interact”:

Writing a blog is way easier than writing a magazine article, a published paper, or a book — but provides many of the same benefits.

I think it’s an application of the 80/20 rule — for 20% of the effort (writing a blog post but not editing and refining it the quality level required of a magazine article, a published paper, or a book), you get 80% of the benefit (your thoughts are made available to interested people very broadly).

Arguably blogging is better because the distribution of a blog can be even broader than a magazine article, a published paper, or a book, at least in cases where the article/paper/book is restricted by a publisher to a limited readership base.

Andreessen obviously isn’t writing his blog with any intent to try to charge people for it (as one of the founders of Netscape he presumably doesn’t need that kind of change). I doubt, either, that he is blogging in order to be known as the one-in-a-thousand expert on anything. So Nielsen would tell him, don’t bother — don’t waste your time.

Andreessen doesn’t look likely to heed such counsel. Certainly, as a tech-industry celebrity, he’s had it relatively easy in attracting attention and readers. But he’s hardly coasting. His posts, in fact, look suspiciously like the long, in-depth articles Nielsen advocates; they just happen to be posted in blog form.

From what I can tell, Andreessen is blogging because he finds it fun. Because it connects him to a wider group of people who share his interests. Because it gives him a chance to think out loud and tell war stories and give advice. And because, having started, he can’t stop writing (long, in-depth) posts.

It looks a lot like love.
[tags]jakob nielsen, marc andreessen, blogging[/tags]

Facebook needs work

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I am by far not the first to point this out, but it bears repetition: Facebook has some big problems with its matrix for defining relationships among friends.

The first generation of social networks were mocked for offering only a simple binary choice of “friend” or “not friend.” Facebook — which started as a network for college students, but opened its doors to the world a few months ago, and is now growing like mad — isn’t much of an improvement. But at least it lets you fill in some blanks and better define your relationship with particular friends.

Each time you confirm a “friend request” from someone on Facebook, you’re confronted with a screen that asks for details. This is the list of options:

How do you know [this friend]?
Lived together
Worked together
From an organization or team
Took a course together
From a summer / study abroad program
Went to school together
Traveled together
In my family
Through a friend
Through Facebook
Met randomly
We hooked up
We dated
I don’t even know this person.

This is a great list if you are 19 years old. It is pretty much useless for the rest of us. And even if you try to use the “worked together” feature, you will get tripped up.

For instance: I know a developer named Jake Savin because he worked at Userland during the period when Userland and Salon ran a blogging program together. Jake just sent me a “Friend request” and asked me to confirm that we “worked together.” I’m happy to do this; but Facebook seems to believe that “worked together” can only mean “worked together at the same company” — so if I confirm Jake’s request, Facebook seems to think I’m saying that I, too, worked for Userland. Which is ridiculous. There’s no tool by which one can express the many shades of relationship as they exist outside of a campus environment.

Facebook has garnered enormous attention from the media and from developers since it opened its platform to allow other companies to build “Facebook applications” that add new capabilities to the Facebook system. But Facebook’s social-networking design needs some basic plumbing work. Before some other company plunks down a few billion for Facebook’s hotness — or before the investment bankers take it public — some basic upgrades are in order.
[tags]social networks, facebook, friending[/tags]

The case of the disappearing Amazon reviews

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Dreaming in Code has sold particularly well on Amazon.com, which does not surprise me. Given the subject matter, the book was bound to appeal to buyers who shop online, and Amazon is the dominant player in the online bookstore market.

I’ve also been pleased to see the profusion of customer reviews on Amazon. As of about three weeks ago, we had 33 reviews posted. Most were positive, a handful were negative; either way, each one meant that some reader cared enough to take the time to post their reactions, and that meant a lot to me.

Then something weird happened about ten days ago. Suddenly, Amazon showed only 10 reviews. Two dozen reviews posted between mid-February and the end of June had simply disappeared. In the time since then, a couple of new reviews have joined the total, but the missing reviews have not reappeared.

I’ve been building Web sites long enough, and worked with software long enough, to imagine a variety of different scenarios for what might be causing this. Whatever happened, this is something that Amazon ought to be concerned about — these glitches are rarely limited to a single page; there’s likely sporadic data loss in multiple places. Amazon runs a gigantic Web service that a lot of people depend on. It has even recently gotten into the business of offering back-end data storage services (Amazon S3) to other Web companies and individuals. So I trust they’ll be pursuing this issue. They ought to have this data somewhere from which it can be restored.

I’ve asked my publisher to look into the matter. I also contacted Amazon through their bottom-of-the-page feedback mechanism. The good news is, I actually got a response; the bad news is, it was feeble — I think the customer-service rep. simply looked up the page, saw there were a dozen reviews, and reported such back to me. I could do that from the comfort of my home, thank you!

Amazon was one of the very first businesses to understand the value of what the Net industry now calls “user-generated content.” Customer reviews are the heart of its operation. The most basic compact between a Web service and its users is, “If you contribute something of value, we promise not to lose it.”

UPDATE Mid-afternoon Wednesday: The reviews appear to be back. Thanks, Amazon.
[tags]amazon.com, amazon, amazon reviews, data loss[/tags]

Links for July 6th

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  • What are we going to say about “Cult of the Amateur”?. Many-to-Many:
    Clay Shirky’s cogent and fair retort to Andrew Keen’s book:

    The hard question contained in Cult of the Amateur is “What are we going to do about the negative effects of freedom?” Our side has generally advocated having as few limits as possible (when we even admit that there are downsides), but we’ve been short on particular cases. It’s easy to tell the newspaper people to quit whining, because the writing has been on the wall since Brad Templeton founded Clarinet. It’s harder to say what we should be doing about the pro-ana kids, or the newly robust terror networks.

A rat’s apprenticeship

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I loved Ratatouille, the new Pixar film from Brad Bird, as much as so many of the critics did. But there’s one little aspect of it that struck me as, not exactly wrong, but off.

Remy the rat is plainly born with the gift of taste; he apprehends flavors in a way his rat relatives simply can’t, and he is passionate about food from the start.

In the course of the film (I do not believe the following is a significant spoiler) he develops into an extraordinarily talented chef able to please demanding customers and wow the haute-est critics.

In my view, great creators are born and made. To arrive at the top of any field, you have to start with some kind of gift, some genetic bounty. But most stories of achievement — in any field that is both craft and art, which means virtually any field — also involve a phase of learning, of apprenticeship, of buckling down and arriving at mastery through repetition. Shakespeare acted and wrote forgettable stuff like the three parts of Henry VI; The Beatles did their time in the cellars of Hamburg.

But there is something of a lacuna in Ratatouille when it comes to this phase of Remy’s chefly evolution. It’s true that the rat finds a mentor in a deceased chef named Gusteau — and his bestselling tome, Anyone Can Cook. The book seems to serve as Remy’s teacher, and the chef himself becomes a sort of tutelary spirit. But we really don’t see Remy learn or make mistakes. He transforms in a blink from the rat equivalent of a foodie into a world-class chef.

Ratatouille is wonderful. But its shape as an artistic biography (portrait of the culinary artist as a young rat) would have been more graceful had it included episodes showing Remy the journeyman, in transition from gifted amateur to seasoned pro. Instead, Remy’s relationship to his talent is the same as the one the heroes of Bird’s previous movie, The Incredibles, had with their superpowers: The gift is simply a given. There’s no sign of the perspiration behind the inspiration.
[tags]movies, ratatouille[/tags]

Code Reads #11: “Notes on Postmodern Programming”

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Code ReadsThis is the eleventh edition of Code Reads, a series of discussions of some of the central essays, documents and texts in the history of software. You can go straight to the comments and post something if you like. Here’s the full Code Reads archive.

Playfulness in writing about programming isn’t always so easy to find. But here it is again. In our last Code Reads we got to enjoy Guy Steele’s words-of-one-syllable language game; this time around, we’re in the hands of two writers who are playing games with the entire corpus of software history.

James Noble and Robert Biddle are colleagues at Victoria University in Wellington, New Zealand (Biddle is now at Carleton University in Ottawa). In Dreaming in Code I summarized a bit of their work (along with a group of colleagues) on “Scale-free geometry in OO programs” — a study which found that software objects are “scale-free, like fractals, and unlike Lego bricks.”

Earlier this decade Noble and Biddle presented a series of papers at the OOPSLA conference on the theme of “Postmodern Programming.” The first, “Notes on Postmodern Programming” (2002), opens with a tongue-in-cheek transposition of the Bauhaus manifesto into the computing realm. From there, it jumps into a sometimes line-by-line rewrite of Edsger Dijkstra’s “Notes on Structured Programming” (which we looked at back in Code Reads #4). So we’re on notice that this paper will draw heavily on the postmodern aesthetic of cobbling together scraps, references, tributes and parodies.

But those bits and pieces form a serious argument, too.
[Read more…]

Jaron Lanier’s surface-embracing vision

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Near the end of Dreaming in Code I took a chapter to look at some of the more visionary efforts today to reform the troubled world of software development. One key portrait was of Jaron Lanier. (It was a delightful coincidence that, well after I’d settled on my book title, I discovered that Lanier had once told an interviewer, “I used to dream in code at night when I was in the middle of some big project.”)

This month in his column in Discover, Lanier uses my book as a jumping off point to discuss some of the same questions I set out with:

Why do some software projects sail to completion while so many others seem cursed? Why must software development be so difficult to plan?

These questions should concern everyone interested in science, not just programmers, because computer code is increasingly the language we use to describe and explore the dynamic aspects of reality that are too complicated to solve with equations. A comprehensive model of a biological cell, for instance, could lead to major new insights in biology and drug design. But how will we ever make such a model if the engineering of a straightforward thing like a personal productivity package confounds us?

In the heart of the piece, Lanier explains, more fully, his big idea — “phenotropics”: a software system, inspired by biology and robotics, in which surfaces “read” each other using fuzzy pattern recognition, allowing for systems that are better able to handle small variations from the norm without crashing.

Suppose software could be made of modules that were responsible for identifying each other with pattern recognition. Then, perhaps, you could build a large software system that wouldn’t be vulnerable to endless unpredictable logic errors.

He mentions Web 2.0-style mashups as one fledgling step in this direction, and also provides an anecdotal account of a project from the 1980s that he collaborated on with Andy Hertzfeld (another central figure in Dreaming in Code) called Embrace.

It’s a mind-expanding read, like so much of Jaron’s stuff. Embrace surfaces! Find patterns!
[tags]jaron lanier, phenotropics, software crisis[/tags]