Blogging

43f Podcast: John Gruber & Merlin Mann's Blogging Panel at SxSW

Merlin — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 19:33:08 -0400

SxSW ’09 - Gruber & Mann - HOWTO: 149 Surprising Ways to Turbocharge Your Blog With Credibility! (audio mp3, free on iTunes)

My pal, John Gruber (from daringﬁreball.net), and I presented a talk at South by Southwest Interactive on Saturday, March 14th. We talked about building a blog you can be proud of, trying to improve the quality of your work, reaching the people you admire, and maybe even making a buck (in a way that doesn’t blow your deal). Here’s what we had to say:

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N.B.: Awesome drawing by Dave Gray. Here’s more.

Selected Notes

”43f Podcast: John Gruber & Merlin Mann's Blogging Panel at SxSW” was written by Merlin Mann for 43Folders.com and was originally posted on March 25, 2009. Except as noted, it's ©2009 Merlin Mann and licensed for reuse under CC BY-NC-ND 3.0. "Why a footer?"

The Wire: Writing Into Your Arc

Merlin — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 09:46:14 -0400

Important

While this article about The Wire deliberately contains as few actual spoilers about the show as possible, it does contain numerous links to pages with information that will tell you critical spoiler information about the stories and fates of the show’s characters. The article also contains language and links that are very much not safe for work. Please proceed with caution on all fronts.

In the time since I gallantly announced what makes a good blog, I’ve had time to think more about the qualities of work that endures.

Not thinking just of personal blogs here, or solely in terms of the ways that we can improve online publishing and social media —although clearly these are areas that could stand some improvement. I’m talking about the extent to which some of those qualities that I mentioned in that article relate to broader ideas around all creative work and the process behind how it gets made well and consistently by an auteur who’s only incidentally a merchant.

And it’s especially got me thinking about how any thing we choose to make today can contribute to, for lack of a better phrase, an arc.

So, naturally, I’ve been thinking a lot about The Wire.

First, understand that I’m an unapologetic superfan of and evangelist for The Wire, which is David Simon’s epic, 5-season HBO drama about the life and work of a lot of very ﬂawed characters in contemporary Baltimore. This is neither the ﬁrst nor last time that I’ll quote Simon’s excellent description of the show’s theme, which is taken from his DVD commentary of the very ﬁrst scene of s01e01:

[The Wire is] really about the American city, and about how we live together. It’s about how institutions have an effect on individuals, and how … whether you’re a cop, a longshoreman, a drug dealer, a politician, a judge [or] lawyer, you are ultimately compromised and must contend with whatever institution you’ve committed to.

Much has been written about the dense, literary quality of the show (read Kottke for context and great links), so it may not surprise you to learn I’m one of the many people who consider The Wire to be the best series that’s ever appeared on television; my wife and I have watched the ﬁrst (and, in my opinion, best) four seasons at least three times.

Yeah, that’s a plug for you to give The Wire a chance, but it’s not exactly my point.

Ok. So, why The Wire?

My point is that one big reason why The Wire was so good is its endlessly satisfying story arc, which is composed of many smaller, complementary arcs inside the big arc. That’s where a good story becomes a much more engrossing narrative that’s ultimately about more than itself.

Like any creative work that connects with the people who enjoy it, The Wire tells a story. And, to some extent, every story is about change.

Something happened. Or something is going to happen. Or something that everybody expected to happen hasn’t happened. But, it’s a change, and it’s having an impact on the lives of people we care about. Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s basically the bones and teeth of every story from Adam & Eve through Harold & Kumar. Something changed, and now people have to deal.

How that dealing spins out over the life of a project, how the story is told, and what the story says about the world are the sorts of questions we’re only encouraged to ask about Big Important Things like very old books and Bergman ﬁlms. Which, of course, is bullshit.

There’s no reason you can’t look at the lifetime of any good piece of story-telling — and, yes, why not, let’s say that could include blogs, Twitter accounts, and Flickr streams — and be able to see what the change is.

Yes: if it’s any good, I can look at one page or one photo or one 140-character post and enjoy it for its value as one independent thing in the world. But over time, all those potentially thousands of pieces can and do snap together, often without our even realizing it. The question is, what story is it that we’re telling? What is the arc?

And, that’s where I look to an example of middlebrow culture that falls somewhere between Bergman’s Death playing chess with Man on a beach and Scoble’s latest shaky video of a guy who likes golf speaking in press releases. But, The Wire is a piece of popular culture that beautifully illustrates how satisfying all those seemingly unrelated pieces of an arc can be — and how much richer they each become when the audience is engaged, challenged, and rewarded by the effort of giving the work 100% of their attention. Of course, it also helps if the creator is talented, tries really hard, and doesn’t treat the audience like a bunch of bored imbeciles. But, I digress.

Like any story, The Wire has characters, settings, and things that happen over time. Example? Let’s start with a single, one-minute scene from s01e05 — an episode called “The Pager,” that’s from right around the time when the series really started cooking. Which, not coincidentally, was also when the intersecting arcs started to reveal themselves.

The Scene

Meet Jimmy McNulty.

Jimmy’s a talented, politically deaf, pain-in-the-ass homicide detective and drunk who’s estranged from the mother of the two children he adores. One night, in the shitty little apartment he’s recently moved into, Jimmy’s too wasted on cheap scotch to properly assemble the Ikea furniture that he bought for his kids’ imminent visit. Jimmy is a mess, because he’s dealing with change. In his own inimitable way.

But, see, you don’t really even need to know all this to just enjoy the scene. (Please watch from 0:09-1:25)

One small scene of a guy who’s drunk and a little careless. There’s loud music playing in the next apartment. He has to make a few trips to get all of the stuff he bought into one room (bet he’s in a walk-up apartment, right?). Jimmy’s useless tonight, clearly more focused on the bottle than on assembling the parts of his new SÜLI. Here’s a middle-aged man whose bedroom contains a green plastic lawn chair. Plus, the whole sorry scene is grimly lit by a single high-wattage desk lamp — reminiscent of the unforgiving light ﬂooding the interrogation rooms that Jimmy and his partner, Bunk, work every day. Painful already, right?

So, that’s just one very small bit of character, setting, and thing-that-happens. While it’s certainly not a story, in and of itself, it’s still an entertaining, well-made scene to watch. Not as famous as Jimmy and Bunk’s deservedly best-known scene from the previous episode (warning: very NSFW), but you get the idea. You can already tell a few things about this show.

It’s well photographed, the set is painfully realistic, and the man dealing with change seems convincingly Baltimorean and drunk (although the actor portraying him is stunningly British and, to my knowledge, mostly sober).

Even if you have no idea what else happens on the other dozens of hours of this series, past and future, you could watch this one-minute scene and think, “yeah, that’s pretty good.”

The Episode

But, if you were able to watch the whole episode — and it’s a good one — you’d see an atypically intense and complex police drama about cops in an understaffed bureaucracy trying to gather string about a case that seems impossible to crack. You’d see that some of the cops are brilliant (“Natural PO-lice”), some are dedicated, a couple are intoxicated by brutality, and a memorable pair with a Gaelic pun for a name are hilariously useless and corrupt. None is perfect, but none is without his or her interesting and redeeming qualities. End to end, it’s a very colorful bunch.

Same goes for the dealers and drug kingpins, who are struggling with their own related set of problems around bureaucracy, trust, and continuity inside a crumbling system. Theirs is a mature but increasingly vulnerable criminal enterprise that’s being menaced and robbed at will by a dangerous and unforgettable outsider with surprising tastes, ethics, and style.

Along the way you’d see a lot of beautifully shot scenes that show (without telling) why these people are so desperate. Plus you’d be introduced to secondary characters who are anything but stage dressing, such as a junkie informant who’s inked and ﬁlled-in with the complex texture of a Mercutio or a Fagin.

So, basically, if you gave this episode from June of 2002 about an hour of your time, and it was the only thing you ever saw of The Wire, you’d probably walk away thinking, “Wow, I didn’t understand almost any of that, but it was really interesting and well made. This looks like a great show that you have to actually watch and think about.”

But, here’s where it gets really good, and where we start to see a bigger arc that may not have been clear before.

The Season

Indeed, if you watched that whole ﬁrst season of The Wire, you’d ﬁnd yourself rewarded with a storyline — an arc — that I will not spoil for you.

But, you’d start to see that almost every character you meet ends up having some effect on at least a handful of other characters — even if they never knew the others existed. The decisions that people make early in the season have resonance throughout the story that plays out in unexpected ways. And the change that describes the generic arc of that ﬁrst season (Antihero cops try to take down an antihero Baltimore drug crew) ends up telling a much deeper story than any typical police procedural that I’m familiar with.

Even in one season, we’re seeing a story that’s closer to Dickens or Zola than any styrofoam plate full of Law & Order. This is nothing short of a Greek Tragedy about broken people trying to stay alive in a broken system. Nobody’s perfect, and everybody is fucked in one way or another.

In my opinion, it’s a breathtaking set of 13 episodes. And if those hour-long TV shows were all you ever watched: again, you’d have enjoyed a real treat.

But there’s a lot more story, more change, and still more to the arc.

The Series

Finally, if you watched all ﬁve seasons of The Wire, you’d see a lot more going on than you imagined from one season, one episode — let alone one short scene of a drunk cop trying to build children’s furniture by lamp light.

You’d see each successive season turning to a different broken and dying institution: unions, government, public education, and print media, respectively. You’d see the same themes, and characters, and mistakes, and hopes, and horrible consequences brought back to life in different ways. Stuff that happened before still means something; possibly even more than you’d ﬁrst realized.

This is a show that uses previous story arcs to deepen and expand on current stories. It uses things you’d never noticed from previous viewings as the centerpiece for a whole new story. It suggests grace notes that are barely audible unless you’ve been listening carefully for a very long time.

In sum, The Wire pays back the attention you invest in it like few pieces of art created in my lifetime. It’s vicious about telling every letter of the story with muscular precision — even when it chooses to do so at pace many would consider pointlessly deliberate: “dull.”

And, because the story rarely stops to explain what’s happening for the folks who just wandered in from the ﬁrst segment of Family Feud, it demands that you bring the same care and thought to watching the show that its creators brought to making it. Thinking, on both ends of the art. That is engagement.

Like great literature, yes, you can return and enjoy this series on many levels and based on whatever you have to bring to it at a given time. It’s not only smarter than anything else that I’ve seen on TV, it’s also smarter than I am. Which I love.

Arcs Matter Because Writing Matters

I doubt that I’ll ever make anything one-tenth as intelligent, thoughtful, and engaging as The Wire, and, in all likelihood, neither will you. But, again, that’s not the point.

The inspiration you need to take away from this is the idea that every scene matters to some arc. Even the one minute with the drunk furniture assembly. Whether your given “scene” is in a screenplay, or an Excel spreadsheet, or the Tweet that you’re about to type about your ﬂight delay: it matters. It all matters.

Like I said in the talk where I ﬁrst brought up this thought about The Wire (video and slides of which below), if you think what you write about or otherwise choose to make doesn’t matter, talk to Stephen King.

He started writing a book I adore before he nearly died, then ﬁnished it in excruciating pain after it turned out he was still barely alive, let alone whole. The story he tells about what happened in-between may change your mind about whether this stuff is worth caring about. Just understand: it matters to the people who follow your arc and it really ought to matter to you — long before some idiot with a rottweiler hits you with his giant van.

There’s already one arc that you began the minute you made something, called it “done,” then put it someplace where people could see it. How that very, very large story gets told may be too late for you to completely control. Sorry, but that — as Omar would say — is all in the game.

But you very much do have the power to design the arcs you make, starting today. And even if you haven’t ﬁgured out how your ﬁnal episode ends, consider how the pieces you want to lay down might ﬁt together. And how the string that you gather might crack a case you hadn’t expected.

Who do you want to delight? Who do you pray gets your references? Who will you ﬂatly refuse to explain your backstory to? What’s the one goddamned thing that only you can make today — and what arc might it ﬁt into downstream? Which “average reader” are you prepared to ﬁnd the courage to tell: “Fuck you.”

Above all: whose attention will you reward with the best thing you can possibly make today?

Good. Now go, and reward the shit out of them.

Supporting Material: “How to Blog”

kung fu grippe - How to Blog

Here’s the presentation I recently did in which I talked about this Wire stuff for the ﬁrst time (that part starts around the 53:00 mark in the video)

Video

Tip: Sean’s a nice enough guy, but his introduction in this very choppy video will redeﬁne your personal concept of “headache-inducing.” With respect, skip to 5:20 to get to where my actual talk begins.

Update 2008-09-25 11:09:18 PDT

I apologize. I cannot get this busted-ass video embed not to autoplay, and if I hear Sean screaming about a scavenger hunt on my site one more time, I’m going to lose it. Video’s here. So sorry for the extra click.

Slides

”The Wire: Writing Into Your Arc” was written by Merlin Mann for 43Folders.com and was originally posted on September 25, 2008. Except as noted, it's ©2009 Merlin Mann and licensed for reuse under CC BY-NC-ND 3.0. "Why a footer?"

Social Networks: The Case for a "Pause" Button

Merlin — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 10:40:31 -0400

Jason Kottke (via Rex, via TechCrunch) points to a new feature on FriendFeed that allows users to “fake follow” people:

That means you can friend someone but you don’t see their updates. That way, it appears that you’re paying attention to them when you’re really not. Just like everyone does all the time in real life to maintain their sanity.

As duplicitous and sad as “fake following” sounds – and let’s be honest: the whole idea’s pathetic on a number of levels – for a certain kind of user, I can see why there’s a desire for this functionality. Especially on a site like FriendFeed, which has quickly become the platform of choice for the web’s least interesting narcissists – and the slow-witted woodland creatures who enjoy grooming their fur – this is a major breakthrough in the makebelieve friendship space. Yes, primate culture may be primitive, but it is not without its evolving needs.

Thing is, “fake following” is also not so far off from a more wholesome feature that I’ve been begging for on social networks for years now:

Any application that lets you “friend,” “follow,” or otherwise observe another user should include a prominent (and silent) “PAUSE“ button.

I think users of apps like Flickr, Twitter, Facebook, LiveJournal, Delicious, and, yes, FriendFeed, would beneﬁt from an easy and undramatic way to take a little break from a “friend” – without inducing the grand mal meltdown that “unfriending” causes the web’s more delicately-composed publishers.

Here’s how it would work.

“Friends.” There are entities in the world that, for whatever reason, do or make things that theoretically interest you. Let’s call them “friends.”
“I need a break.” Occasionally, for any variety of reasons (new baby, SxSW, ﬂight delays, adjustment to mood meds), your theoretical interest in the friend wanes, and you dread their next update. Perhaps you even ﬁnd yourself wishing them some sort of non-permanent physical harm. Such as a hangnail or a bad haircut.
“Hit ‘Pause.’” You visit the temporarily-annoying friend’s proﬁle or home page for the service, and hit their “Pause” button.
Break time. For the next n [hours|days|weeks] (would be great if this were conﬁgurable), you will not see items from this friend. Nothing new, nothing old, no comments, no nothing. It’s like they’re on the moon.
“Sssssshh!” No notiﬁcation of the change is ever shown to the user whom you paused, and there’s no way for anyone to detect your pausing; you’re still “friends.” Yay. “Friendship.”
“On second thought…” If, at any time before the end of the pausing, you decide you’re interested again, you could choose to “UNPAUSE” (“PLAY?”) the friend. Or, of course, you might ﬁnd you love the break too much, so you can fully “unfriend” them any time as usual.
“Hi, again.” After the pausing ends, any items you missed would be available to view in whatever location functions as an archive on that given service. But, you and your “friend” have a fresh start with minimal unnecessary drama. Now you can enjoy them again.

You can pause your newspaper delivery, and the newspaper never complains. Unfortunately most people online haven’t ﬁgured out that they’re just another publisher in a crowded space. Which is kind of a shame, because I think accepting that mantle of “publisher” might improve many peoples’ contributions as well as add a useful layer or two to their epidermis.

If you’re an adult who’s at a place in life where you need to pretend you’re interested in people whom you are not actually interested in, then “fake following” should be more than adequate for your needs. But, if you’re here to actually read things and to enjoy the thoughts, photos, and opinions of actual people who have good and bad streaks, it wouldn’t hurt to have an easy way to hit “snooze” for a while.

Sometimes, for whatever reason, either publishers or their readers just aren’t hitting on all cylinders, and a ﬂight delay’s a terrible reason to lose a real, non-air-quoted friend.

Plus, everybody hates hangnails.

Addendum 2008-08-26 16:25:26 PDT

Just to clarify a point that I’d hope goes without saying: this all goes for me, too. My God, I feel like I say it often enough, but I’m thinking it needs to become a monthly PSA. I’ll say it again here for posterity:

You are busy. You have many demands on your time and attention. Never, under any conditions, hesitate to ignore anyone or anything that’s not making good use of your attention. Ever.

Why do I feel the need to press the point with speciﬁc regard to 43 Folders? This site is not a pyramid scheme nor a constantly-reﬁlled bowl of Crunch ‘n Munch. I’m not here to addict you to self-help, “life hacks,” or any other topic you perceive this place to be about. That’s not why I type.

The Buddhist parable says to stop carrying the boat once you’ve crossed the river. If 43 Folders (or anything else I have to share) has no place in your life on a given day or year, I promise you’ll never hear a complaint from me. That’s…just life, right? Exactly, that’s life.

Like everything in your world, I serve your attention at your sole pleasure. You owe me nothing, reader-companion.

In fact, if you end up spending less time here because you’ve learned how to treat your attention as a free agent with incalculable value, then, in an unexpected way, you’ve paid both of us the highest compliment I can imagine; you’ve crossed the shit out of that river, and now you’re ready to just let other folks use the boat for a while.

”Social Networks: The Case for a "Pause" Button” was written by Merlin Mann for 43Folders.com and was originally posted on August 26, 2008. Except as noted, it's ©2009 Merlin Mann and licensed for reuse under CC BY-NC-ND 3.0. "Why a footer?"

What Makes for a Good Blog?

Merlin — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 08:14:17 -0400

My friends at Six Apart recently asked me to make a list of blogs that I enjoy. I think they’re planning to use it for their new Blogs.com project. Unfortunately, I’m late getting it to them (typical), but if it’s still useful, I’ll post it here in a day or four.

As I think about the blogs I’ve returned to over the years – and the increasingly few new ones that really grab my attention – I want to start with, ironically enough, a list. Here’s what I think helps make for a good blog.

Good blogs have a voice. Who wrote this? What is their name? What can I ﬁgure out about who they are that they have never overtly told me? What’s their personality like and what do they have to contribute – even when it’s “just” curation. What tics and foibles fascinate make me about this blog and the person who makes it? Most importantly: what obsesses this person?
Good blogs reﬂect focused obsessions. People start real blogs because they think about something a lot. Maybe even ﬁve things. But, their brain so overﬂows with curiosity about a family of topics that they can’t stop reading and writing about it. They make and consume smart forebrain porn. So: where do this person’s obsessions take them?
Good blogs are the product of “Attention times Interest.” A blog shows me where someone’s attention tends to go. Then, on some level, they encourage me to follow the evolution of their interest through a day or a year. There’s a story here. Ethical “via” links make it easy for me to follow their speciﬁc trail of attention, then join them for a walk made out of words.
Good blog posts are made of paragraphs. Blog posts are written, not defecated. They show some level of craft, thinking, and continuity beyond the word count mandated by the Owner of Your Plantation. If a blog has ﬁxed limits on post minimums and maximums? It’s not a blog: it’s a website that hires writers. Which is ﬁne. But, it’s not really a blog.
Good “non-post” blogs have style and curation. Some of the best blogs use unusual formats, employ only photos and video, or utilize the list format to artistic effect. I regret there are not more blogs that see format as the container for creativity – rather than an excuse to write less or link without context more.
Good blogs are weird. Blogs make fart noises and occasionally vex readers with the degree to which the blogger’s obsession will inevitably diverge from the reader’s. If this isn’t happening every few weeks, the blogger is either bored, half-assing, or taking new medication.
Good blogs make you want to start your own blog. At some point, everyone wants to kill the Buddha and make their own obsessions the focus. This is good. It means you care.
Good blogs try. I’ve come to believe that creative life in the ﬁrst-world comes down to those who try just a little bit harder. Then, there’s the other 98%. They’re still eating the free continental breakfast over at FriendFeed. A good blog is written by a blogger who thinks longer, works harder, and obsesses more. Ultimately, a good blogger tries. That’s why “good” is getting rare.
Good blogs know when to break their own rules. Duh. I made a list, didn’t I? Yes. I did. Big fan.

And, yeah, you should disagree with potentially all of this. It’s because I have an opinion, and so do you. It’s why you probably have a blog. See? The system works.

Coming soon: the blogs I read, enjoy, envy, and admire.

”What Makes for a Good Blog?” was written by Merlin Mann for 43Folders.com and was originally posted on August 19, 2008. Except as noted, it's ©2009 Merlin Mann and licensed for reuse under CC BY-NC-ND 3.0. "Why a footer?"

Blog Pimping, or: Who Do You Want to Delight?

Merlin — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 13:10:58 -0400

Big Contrarian → Tacky.

My favorite bloggers are great at articulating something I feel in my gut – but they regularly present it better, more clearly, and (on days like today), more succinctly than I ever could. Such is the case with Jack Shedd’s post, “Tacky,” a razor-sharp polemic on the industry of cheese-food manufacturing that “pro blogging” has turned into.

Write top ten lists and whore yourself on many other sites as you possibly can. Don’t be thoughtful, long-winded or interesting. Don’t write about you love, unless what you love is popular on Digg. And for god’s sake don’t even think about writing about more than one topic.

Whether their strategies work or not is slightly beside the point. It’s cheap. It’s marketing driven, instead of content driven. It’s the type of thinking that leads to a sequel to the movie Garﬁeld.

For myself, I think there’s nothing wrong with having a blog and wanting to make money with it. Obviously. But I also hold an increasingly old-fashioned view that you ought to start with something you’re passionate about sharing with people – something besides how to make easy money with a blog – and try to build an audience of people you respect based on producing work you’re happy with or even proud of.

Consequently, I very much agree with Jack’s thoughts on audience-building.

Despite the utter-bullshit so much of the Anderson’s long tail has proven to be, the core idea that everything ﬁnds an audience should be held up and remembered. Clung to fastidiously; A life raft for the ignored, for the invisible.

If you’re worth reading, someone will read you. If you’re worth watching, someone will watch you. If you’re worth hearing, someone will listen.

Seconded.

If you do not agree with Jack’s or my opinion on building your audience – or if you think this is an unrealistically conservative tactic for simps and losers – consider this: I learned about Big Contrarian from reading a blogger I trust and respect: John Gruber. Today, the chances are good that at least a few of you might visit Jack’s site for the ﬁrst time because you learned about it from someone you (theoretically) trust and respect: me. If you like Jack’s stuff as much as Chairman Gruber and I do, I’ll bet you’ll tell others about it through your own sites or through emails, IRL conversations, and what have you. And the music goes round. Organically.

Jack didn’t beg a link, he didn’t pretend to be 50,000 peoples’ “friend,” and he didn’t concoct a bunch of tricks, games, and page-padding bullshit in an attempt to increase views and time-on-site. Jack didn’t do anything except write a great blog. It’s up to his readers to do the rest. If what you’re doing is interesting and appeals to someone, that’s all you need. Seriously.

So, yes, if that wasn’t a clear enough recommendation: read Jack’s blog, Big Contrarian, and tell your friends about it. Jack gets this stuff, and his combination of links and commentary is, not coincidentally, reminiscent of blogging’s salad days. When people were more excited about what they had to say than with ﬁguring out how to make it palatable to readers who’d prefer the entire web be re-formatted as a series of retardate lists.

If you watched The Wire, I’ll bet you walked away with the same piece of wisdom that I did – the thread that ran through every episode of every season, and that was articulated by the show’s creator, David Simon, in the DVD narration of the very ﬁrst scene from The Wire:

It’s about how institutions have an effect on individuals, and how…whether you’re a cop, a longshoreman, a drug dealer, a politician, a judge [or] lawyer, you are ultimately compromised and must contend with whatever institution you’ve committed to.

This is one of the most insightful things I’ve ever heard someone related to the TV business say, and I happen to believe it’s true of any industry, institution, or, for that matter, adult decision: you make decisions and you accept trade-offs. It’s true if you’re the Mayor, or a homicide cop, or a heroin addict, and damn it, it’s true if you’re a blogger in his or her underpants trying to make bank in a competitive marketplace. You make decisions and you accept trade-offs.

You decide whether or not to run ads. You decide whether or not to include Amazon afﬁliate links. You decide whether or not to edit posts after publication. You decide whether or not to accept free shit like trips and demo units. You decide how black of an SEO hat you’re willing to wear. You decide whether people will notice (or care) when your ten-paragraph link post is spread out over 11 pages (“It’s a Gallery!”). You make, erase, and re-draw lines until you’re comfortable with the mix. You evolve and you struggle to ﬁnd your place in the system.

No one is perfect 100% of the time, and sometimes we all change our minds, realize we’re dead wrong, or we just try different things for the hell of it. At least that’s been the case for me on every point.

But, ultimately, our most important decision may be deciding who we want to please, and what we’re willing to do, allow, insert, or put up with that potentially will make those people love, hate, or even feel indifferent toward our sites and our work. Not only must we contend with the institution, we also have to ﬁgure out who we want to delight and how. That’s where the art is, and it’s arguably the turning point for whether a young blog will get noticed or won’t.

Want to build a great audience, composed of people you respect? Be picky about who you decide to overserve. Then do it with all the skill and enthusiasm you can muster.

While it might seem dim to say “the rest takes care of itself,” it is entirely true and fair to say “smart readers will always bring along their smart friends.” It’s why you’re here, and it’s why I am very grateful that you allow me to try and delight you as best I can. Even when the posts are this long.

UPDATE 2008-07-21 11:08:47: Fixed a dumb typo on Jack’s name.

”Blog Pimping, or: Who Do You Want to Delight?” was written by Merlin Mann for 43Folders.com and was originally posted on July 21, 2008. Except as noted, it's ©2009 Merlin Mann and licensed for reuse under CC BY-NC-ND 3.0. "Why a footer?"

43 Folders Blogger FAQs

Merlin — Fri, 19 Oct 2007 14:31:39 -0400

Since we’ve begun to break from the tradition of totally Merlin-centric blog posting on 43 Folders, here’s some answers to theoretical questions people may have about our new bloggers and their contributions.

Last Updated: 2007-10-19 13:27:26 PT

Who are the bloggers on 43 Folders?

From 9/2004 through 9/2007, Merlin was the almost exclusive contributor to the 43f blog. But with the relaunch of 43f in 9/2007, we began offering a few select folks their own 43f blogs, to have and to hold.

Here’s a list of the current 43f bloggers (which is to say: those who have blog privileges and have posted a bio and photo to their proﬁle). If you have blog privileges but haven’t yet tricked out your proﬁle, please do so, and you’ll soon start appearing on that page.

How do you decide who gets a blog?

Right now it’s mostly voodoo and happenstance; at this point, it’s purely Merlin’s caprices.

People who Merlin has asked to write guest posts get a blog, plus there’s a number of folks whose work Merlin admires who – while not having posted yet – do have the freedom to do so whenever they like and as often as they like.

Do all bloggers’ posts automatically get promoted to the home page?

Nope. Merlin and his editorial elves will promote stuff to the home page that they think is particularly interesting – this can be blog posts, forum posts, static pages like this, you name it. If we think it’s good, timely, and/or interesting it goes on the home page.

Almost all of Merlin’s posts are promoted to the home page, because he’s a power-mad narcissist, and he can’t be stopped.

Where can I see all blog posts by everybody?

This page shows you all blog posts by everybody on the site, in reverse chronological order.

You can also subscribe to this RSS feed to see everything published by our bloggers as new posts appear.

Bonus Hint: Visit the completely awesome sitemap page to see some of the bajillion different RSS feeds you can subscribe to. Note that, near the top of the page (where it says “Blogs”), you’ll ﬁnd links to all bloggers who have published something here, as well as links to the RSS feeds for each of these folks.

How’s that different from the regular old 43f RSS feed?

The main site feed shows only stuff that’s been promoted to the home page (which can also include “non-blog” stuff like this static page and promoted forum posts). Think of the home page as our idea of a “best of.”

Can I still get a feed of just Merlin’s blog posts?

Sure. Grab this or visit here.

Do 43f bloggers get paid?

Only in high ﬁves and the occasional Brandy Alexander.

Why would someone write for your site for free?

Because they love you and want to share awesome things that they know and think with you.

It also probably doesn’t hurt that their bio will contain links that acquaint readers with their other work.

Will this turn into one of those sites where contributors are compelled to meet “post quotas” or where beleaguered writers earn their keep by generating lots of trafﬁc around nutritionally bankrupt “Top n” posts involving graph paper generators and new ways to put your pants on faster using a special stick and 10 lines of open source code?

I sincerely hope not.

What if I’m just not into this whole idea?

I dunno. I guess I’d say give it time to grow on you. There’s a lot of smart folks who will be writing stuff here in the next little while – people Merlin thinks a lot of. If you like his stuff, there’s a pretty good chance you’ll like theirs, too.

If you don’t like any of the stuff here. Well. There’s still lots of internet out there, and you’re welcome back any time. No hard feelings.

How do I apply to get a 43f blog?

We’re not accepting new applications from folks right now, although we very well might after Merlin returns from paternity leave.

In the mean time, the best way to get noticed is to post great comments on other people’s posts and forum threads. We will notice you, I assure you.

How can I tell if I have blog privileges?

First, you’ll just have a certain swing in your step, and you probably wear your fedora at a jaunty angle and help old ladies carry their groceries. It’s something you just feel in your gut.

Here’s another way to tell: if you visit this page, and can see “Submit New Blog Post,” and have the ability to make a new blog posts, you’re a blogger. If you see something about “Access Denied”, then you’re not. So it goes.

Also, if you have blog privileges, there’s a high probability that Merlin contacted you personally and informed you of same. He’s like that.

If I have blog privileges, how do I post new blog entries?

We’re working on improving the UI for this, because it’s all but non-existent right now, but going to that page linked above will let you publish new stuff directly to your blog:

http://www.43folders.com/node/add/blog

Save drafts for as long as you want, then tick off the “Published” button and hit “Submit.” Swish, you’re an internet star.

To see all the stuff you’ve ever contributed to 43f (including drafts), hit the “Track” tab on your proﬁle page.

Hey, you didn’t answer my question.

You’re right – I totally didn’t. Sorry!

Maybe post your question to the forum?

”43 Folders Blogger FAQs” was written by Merlin Mann for 43Folders.com and was originally posted on October 19, 2007. Except as noted, it's ©2009 Merlin Mann and licensed for reuse under CC BY-NC-ND 3.0. "Why a footer?"