A new post I wrote for work went up on the Brain Traffic blog yesterday. Continues the series on ecosystem mapping. I knocked this one out quickly, albeit late (sorry Bailey), but only after a lot of hemming and hawing. Sometimes I forget my own advice and just stare stubbornly at a blank screen, then get distracted by social media and forget that I’d even been trying to write. No good.
But I did get it done, thanks to my longtime thinking companion MindNode. Dumped some ideas there, quick, so I could see where I was trying to go. I’m more effective as a writer when I have a reference point. I think the habit started in school, when I didn’t really know anything about writing and would improve my papers by printing them out and then just rewriting them from the beginning as I looked at the original.
If I don’t have anything to reference, I’ll look at nothing. Really. If I’m just writing a journal entry or something, or doing some warm-up writing, I’ll stare off into space as I type. (This gets me odd looks at the coffee shop.) Looking at the keyboard trips me up, and watching what I type makes me want to edit it instead of continuing, so I just don’t even look at it.
The mindmap I made bears only a vague resemblance to the finished piece, but that’s not really the point. It was the just grease to unstick the wheel.
Been writing songs with my buddy Jon for a few weeks now. Our songwriting sessions keep reminding me of the money laundering scene from Office Space:
I can’t believe what a bunch of nerds we are. We’re looking up money laundering in a dictionary.
As you can see in the above photo, I resorted to sketching out a song structure on my notepad during the last session. I also marked out the rhyme scheme (AABB for the verses, ABAB for the chorus) and circled the words that rhymed to make sure it was all connecting. I imagine these things will get internalized more as we gain experience, but for now I’m trying to stick to the basics. One of my top tips in Writing for Designers is to create structure to guide your writing – such as an outline – and I’m finding that helps me with songwriting, too.
Things I’ve wondered out loud during our songwriting sessions include:
Wait, how do songs work?
Where is a bridge is supposed to go?
Three verses makes it a song, right?
It’s been refreshing and enlightening to have: a creative constraint (from weekly challenges issued at the open mic night), a deadline (one week until the next open mic), and a partner (Jon). I’ve gone whole years without actually finishing a song, and in the last five weeks we’ve written three. So here’s to being nerds, I suppose.
Been using the app Streaks for close to a year. I know this because I borrowed the idea for a “Don’t Die” habit from @hotdogsladies, and that one is closing in on 365.
Habit tracking is about building habits, right? Obviously. You want to read more, so you make “Read for 5 Minutes” a habit, and if you get used to doing that, reading for five minutes or more a day becomes habitual, to where you eventually don’t need the reminder. Except that’s not really why I use it. It’s not the main benefit for me, anyway.
The main reason I track little “good things to do every day” habits is so I can tell the ugly little voice in my head SHUT UP, YOU. If I’m putting too much pressure on myself, or was just unable to pull off any uniquely productive work in a day for whatever reason — I didn’t write anything worthwhile, didn’t take any good pictures, maybe didn’t even leave the house — I can still look at Streaks and say “Today wasn’t so bad. You read. You texted with a friend. You did DuoLingo. You flossed. You ate a vegetable.” And so on. Or, if I didn’t do any of those things, I can still say “No big, man. We’ll get a jump on it tomorrow.”
I mean, I’d rather not be someone who has to regularly remind himself that he’s not a worthless piece of shit. But I am that someone, so I do. Have to remind myself, that is. And habit tracking helps.
Dynamic type support on iOS is a thing developers need to pay attention to. I’m not a developer so I skimmed this, but I am someone with attention and sensory processing challenges that lend me to preferring larger type, custom fonts, and other accessibility tweaks. Seems like a lot of other people are adjusting their font sizes, too.
“A $15 minimum wage is an antidepressant.” If you want to be all Mr. Logical about how $15/hour is arbitrary and really it should be indexed to the blah blah blah, fine, but if that prevents you from voting for people who support a living wage, buzz off. Politicking is hard and if “Fight for Fifteen” gets people jazzed and builds the kind of support we need to pass legislation to make things better for real people who are alive and working for poverty wages right now, I’m all for it.
My friend Adrienne correctly guessed that I would enjoy Can’t Unsee, an online game of spotting inconsistencies between two versions of an interface design. Thanks Ade!
Sammy the Beagle, aka Confab Sammy, turned 13 recently and was rightfully celebrated both at work and at home. I did not plan any of this but I did sign the card. Happy birthday Sammy!
People’s $300+ Nike smart sneakers are getting bricked by a bad firmware update. LOL.
“I’m going to make the case that socialism is good and capitalism is bad and that you should be a socialist and use your life to try to make the world more socialistic.” This is a really good speech.
My book is in print now. Available in print, anyway. Print on demand. I have a printed copy. (I don’t want to get “you wrote a text”-ed about my book and its relationship to paper. But I digress.)
I did not know this was going to happen when I agreed to write for the Briefs series, so it’s been a delightful surprise. I’m glad it happened relatively soon after the original release of Writing for Designers, too.
I’ve been sharing my thoughts on writing and content and design with the broader UX world for almost a decade now. Long enough to see ideas from my talks and tweets and blog posts get … upcycled, let’s call it … into other people’s talks, tweets, even books. Not maliciously, often not even consciously, I imagine. But it happens. So it’s been nice to be able to look at a thing I’ve made and say: “Yes. This is unambiguously mine. I made it and it exists and it happened and here is the proof.”
A lot of things I’ve done are kind of…squishy. Spaces. Events. Programs. Campaigns. Concepts. All things I’ve enjoyed, but not things I can stick directly on a shelf. I’d collect trinkets; a DMMC lighter, a Gross Domestic Product poster, a Market Day button, “Speaker” badges from umpteen conferences. But trinkets get dusty, and untidy, and they aren’t the thing, just a reminder of it. My dad always talked about how satisfying it was to look back after a day of laying brick and be able to see your labor. (He also liked to take circuitous routes through Omaha so Mom and I could see his labor, too.)
So this is what I’m brainstorming now. How can I render and represent my labors? I’m getting more photos printed, for starters. Even hung a couple up in my apartment. Vain? Sure. Inspiring? Also yes.
I’m incredibly grateful to everyone that’s ordered a paper copy of the book, especially those who already bought the ebook back in October. If you’re one of them, please consider sharing a photo of it on your desk, bookshelf…hell, even on top of your toilet tank. It’s very motivating, and I can always use a bit more of that.
Leading a one-to-many webinar is a strange affair. Me, alone in my office, wearing a headset, talking out loud at what I hope is a normal volume to an audience of unseen someones in unseen places all over the world.
I’ve done a half-dozen or so of these things now. It’s getting a little easier. I have to be extra-attentive to my pacing and energy on a webinar, as there’s basically no feedback. Am I talking too fast? Too slow? Am I speaking in a normal register? Normal volume?
A few things that seem to help:
Standing. If I can pace a little it feels much more natural.
Gesturing. No one can see me, but I still move my arms around and point at things as if I’m on stage. I think this helps with the energy level.
Pausing. This is a hard one; if you’re not talking nothing is happening. I have to remind myself it’s important and good to pause, to breathe, to let important points hang in the air a little.
Now I just need to stop asking “right?” so much. Right? It’s crazy.
Just back from Interaction 19, a big design conference held in Seattle this year. I gave my How to Get the Writing Done talk on Thursday in the Cinerama, a lovely theatre space with an intimidatingly-large screen.
I almost didn’t go. Thought about canceling when Mom died in December. I didn’t know what kind of state I was going to be in. (I still don’t quite know what kind of state I’m in.) But I’d grown tired of putting my life on hold every six-to-twelve months to deal with some personal tragedy. So I stuck it out. I’m glad I did.
I skipped what I’m sure was a lovely speaker reception, and didn’t stay long at one of the happy hours on Thursday. There were some old friends I should have talked up, and some new connections left unmade. More than my mood could manage. I put my energy into getting there, getting back, and giving a good presentation. Check, check, and check. We’ll call it a win. Sometimes showing up is all you can do.