Last Build Date: Wed, 15 Feb 2012 12:24:02 -0500Copyright: Copyright 2012
Wed, 15 Feb 2012 12:24:02 -0500(image)
Tue, 11 Jan 2011 13:51:13 -0500
Isn’t technology great? It lets us do all these magical things that we couldn’t do five, ten, fifteen years ago. It not only brings convenience but new possibilities into our lives. How else would we connect with our friend from high school who now lives 3,000 miles away? How else could I actually see the person I’m talking to on the phone? Technology represent new experiences that we didn’t have yesterday.
Sun, 31 Oct 2010 11:46:52 -0500
Innovation kills. When we talk about innovation (and a lot of people are talking about it these days) we mainly focus on what it creates. When something new and innovative is embraced, new behaviors and patterns replace old ones. Often, we lose something when the old ways of doing things go away.
Let’s take an example: the digital camera. The idea of taking film to your local pharmacy and waiting a few days for photos to develop seems silly today. On your typical $100 camera (or phone for that matter), you can take hundreds of photos and enjoy them instantly. In minutes, people around the world can enjoy them as well. Many smartphone apps bake in Twitter, Facebook or Flickr integration.
We undoubtedly gained some amazing new capabilities which lead to new possibilities, but we also lost some things:
This all may sound a bit quaint and nostalgic. It isn’t meant to be. I’m a designer and technologist myself. I love the possibilities of technology. Still, I think we will seek out what we lose in other ways. We still want to look forward to things. We still want to make others feel special when we share something with them. Hopefully, we’ll continue to think about the human context as we innovate, and be wary of what’s lost as much as what’s gained.(image)
Mon, 18 Oct 2010 13:55:07 -0500
Happy Cog’s Greg Hoy posted a must-read post that covers a profoundly important topic for consultancies: how to avoid the apocalyptic scenario of not charging enough. Or as Greg coyly phrases it: “What’s your budget?” If you sell your time and services to anyone you don’t want to miss it. Greg shares some great tips.
As a partner at a consulting firm myself, I’d add one more thought: the cost of your time is speculative. Yes, your competitors and your prior work will steer the conversation towards a particular range, but don’t be fooled, those factors are hardly reliable.
Near the end of his post, Greg finally gets to the dance that inevitably ensues:
The prospect says, “We’re accustomed to firms charging $75/hour”. That’s fine. I’m accustomed to my martinis slightly dirty. Just because you’re accustomed to something doesn’t make it a rule. Explain why your services cost what they do. Explain what truly differentiates you from your competition.
“You’re not that beautiful.”
“What? Of course I am. Look at me.”
“I mean…you’re moderately attractive, but not beautiful.”
“Well I don’t agree. I think you’re wrong. Look! Look at my eyes! My lips!”
“Yeh. I don’t know.”
That prospective client isn’t negotiating pricing. He’s telling you, in a not-so-roundabout way, that you aren’t worth what you think you’re worth. It’s a perception tug-of-war.
So what to do?
Here’s what you do: move everything else around except what you believe you’re really worth. Maybe they get less. Maybe they don’t get your senior people. Maybe it’s six components instead of nine. All those variables can change except your worth. That can’t change. It’s an undeniable fact beyond subjectivity and beyond the reality-bending rhetoric of your client-to-be. You are worth what you are worth and unless you’re feeling charitable something else has to give.
Now, I realize competition can get heated and this may be the marquee client you’ve been dying to work with. If that’s the case just understand that perception hasn’t just been shifted for pricing but for who you are, what you deliver and most importantly, what you are worth. In a sort of automatic process, perception leads to real, objective valuation. You may sell low now, but know that the market is listening and pricing accordingly.(image)
Tue, 05 Oct 2010 18:15:29 -0500
Youth is to all the glad reason of life; but often only by what it hopes, not by what it attains, or what it escapes.
- Thomas Carlyle
I want a new iPod Nano.
I saw an ad for it. I’m not really sure where. It might’ve just been a billboard or a bus stop or something. Soon after, I decided I wanted one.
I don’t need one. Not only do I not need one, I can’t even put together a case for how I would even make use of one. I already own an iPhone 4 with tons of memory. My entire music collection is already in my pocket. The iPhone 4 is a far better experience for listening to music.
So why do I want one?
I wanted one because it’s new. Amazon lists it precisely as:
Generations of iPod nanos have lived before this one. They’ve all died before this generation. They paved the way. This sixth generation will die soon as well, probably in about a year.
I want this new nano because it represents something beyond storage size and sound quality. iPods flattened out in terms of core features years ago. It would be nothing more than a burden for me.
So why do I want one?
I want one because it’s newness represents new life. We are willing to spend money on useless, frivolous objects because they represent immortality and renewal. They represent youth and freshness. They are our own feeble attempts to defy time and find new hope and possibility.
In a warped sense we’re all grandparents, clamoring for our sons and daughters to get on with it and get us some grandkids already. As we face the inevitable march of time, we crave these opportunities for renewal.
iPods. Cars. TV’s. They all tap into our basic primal desire to live forever. We don’t want a rugged, upgradeable iPod. We want the illusion of starting over.(image)
Tue, 28 Sep 2010 10:16:51 -0500
If you’re in New York City at the Web 2.0 Expo and you’ve got twenty minutes to spare this Thursday the 30th, then join us for a brief talk on the reading experience and the Web. I’ll be joined by Marco Arment, creator of Instapaper and former tech lead at Tumblr.
Since time is short, we’ll share some thoughts for a few minutes then open it up to questions. We’ll also probably hang around to chat afterwards. If you’re at the conference, try to stop by.(image)
Thu, 26 Aug 2010 07:15:59 -0500
There are two SXSW talks that I’d like you to vote for, not because I’m asking you to but because they will be awesome.
The first is a panel called The Content Economy and the Web’s Rumored Demise. I’m joined by an amazing group of people: Jeff MacIntyre, content strategist and freelance journalist, and principal of Predicate LLC, the infinitely entertaining Paul Ford, contributing editor to Harper’s and consultant for Predicate (and the man behind Ftrain), Marco Arment, creator of Instapaper and finally TED alum Jennifer 8 Lee, former journalist for the New York Times.
We’re going to talk about content, reading, and the presumed death of the Web. If this talk makes it through, I think it could be one of the better panels at SXSW, and I’m not just saying that because I’m involved.
The other proposed talk is a bit out of left field. We’re going to use one of the presentation slots at SXSW to debut our next Arc90 Lab experiment. It should be interesting (or catastrophic, depending on how things go). The talk is entitled: Toss the Projector: Redefining the Presenter/Audience Dynamic. We’re going to build a service that attempts upend the way presenters and the audience interact. You can get a sense of what we’re going after by reading this blog post on the Arc90 blog. Also, don’t miss Tim Meaney’s post on attention for a great background.
So if you can find it in your heart, please take a minute to vote:
Fri, 20 Aug 2010 11:20:30 -0500
Disclaimer: I am woefully and helplessly biased in the following endorsement:
I’m a big fan of the Family Owned Business. I’d personally jump on any chance to experience the distillation of years of experience, knowledge and just that indefinable family-ness of a business. You can manufacture history, nostalgia and authenticity or it can be real.
SHE MAKES THE MOST INSANE BAKLAVA YOU WILL EVER TASTE.
(image) I’m no food critic, but you really have to experience it to fully appreciate why Sam’s baklava is so special. It isn’t soppy or doused in honey. It’s a subtle, rose water-infused flavor that plays between flaky, crunchy and moist. It’s an old family recipe that is under 24 hour lockdown in my mama’s mind.
If you care about eating awesome things, go order some. As a special promotion to my loyal baklava-loving readers, enter coupon code BASEMENTBAKLAVA to get 30% off any order. There’s other tasty stuff on there as well. It makes for a great gift too. We’re talking marriage-saving gift here folks.
To all the Brooklynites (which seems to be just about everyone I meet these days), I highly recommend visiting the cafe in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. It has amazing wood roasted coffee from Millar’s Coffee, shipped all the way from Washington state, a communal table for making friends and of course, free organic wifi.
If you order some or visit, I’d love to hear your feedback. In fact, you can email my mom directly. She’d love to hear your feedback too. Just be warned, she’ll email you back…every day…forever.(image)
Wed, 04 Aug 2010 10:50:47 -0500
There’s a new kind of clutter littering Web pages. It’s not just the obnoxious “Refinance your mortgage” ads plastered atop and alongside articles. It’s also not just the animated nonsense that floats by as you’re trying to read.
It’s the article itself.
In the never-ending quest to get page views, the choices writers and editors are making to attract eyeballs and drive traffic are creating a new breed of low-brow, gimmicky disposable content. At its best it adds little insight and at its worst amounts to a slimy bait-and-switch (catchy headline, nothing to say in the article).
It’s the new clutter. The article itself has devolved into a flashing, animated pile of fluff. The casualty of the rat race towards ad impressions isn’t just crappy layout and thoughtless art direction. It’s awful and useless content. The formula is pretty straightforward: catchy headline, hot topic of the day, add a dash of controversy, stir into a gooey mixture and bake for ten minutes. Even better: take a jab at someone who’s on top: Apple, Facebook, etc. People love to shoot Goliath (or at least shoot in his general direction).
So where’s the good writing on the Web? It’s everywhere else. The interesting new perspectives and provocative thinking isn’t coming from Gizmodo and Silicon Alley. It’s the blogger I’ve never heard of that is blowing me out of my chair these days. They’re not writing with a hidden agenda. They’re not following a Gawker Media Formula For Success (internal guidelines that must exist).
This type of clutter only goes away if business models change and the mechanisms for determining success change along with them. There are too many good writers producing clutter on the Web today.(image)
Wed, 21 Jul 2010 10:59:43 -0500
Imagine I bake a delicious batch of cookies. They’re still warm and mushy. I put them into a bowl while they’re nice and warm and walk them into the living room where a group of my friends are lounging around. I sit down and they get a whiff of my fresh batch of cookies.
I’m proud of my cookies and I look forward to sharing them and hopefully getting a few compliments in return. I put the bowl forward for all to share and enjoy. As soon as someone reaches for one, I grab their hand by the wrist.
That’s not nice. In fact, it’s rude. This is why I think paywalls will fail on the Web. They’re not nice and they’re rude.(image)
Thu, 10 Jun 2010 16:06:34 -0500
Over at the Arc90 blog, I share some thoughts on why we built Readability and where we plan on taking it. It’s an interesting time. The big players – the players that can afford to build their own mini-Internets - are already battling it out.
For us, it’s about doing it on the Web. It’s about elevating the Web providing amazing experiences around content. It will require great tools and a fair amount of discipline, but the Web can become the premium place to explore and consume quality content.
Look out for where we’re taking Readability this summer. It’s going to be fun.(image)
Tue, 08 Jun 2010 11:46:40 -0500
So be warned, Netneswire, Reeder or any other feed reader out there. Hell, anybody that is pulling in content via RSS into an iPhone or iPad app be warned. This is big news. Consuming content freely available on the Web crosses a line, a brand new frickin’ line that didn’t exist yesterday.
Now, this can’t be real right? There has to be some nuanced fine line that Pulse crossed. The New York Times cease and desist letter goes on to say:
I note that the app is delivered with the NYTimes.com RSS feed preloaded, which is prominently featured in the screen shots used to sell the app on iTunes.
Emphasis mine. Ah, now I see. It’s because the Pulse reader preloads the New York Times feed as a default. If a user pulled it in, then that’s OK (I guess) but if Pulse preloads it, they’ve crossed a line?
Guess what else crosses a line? Apple Safari on the iPad or iPhone. By default it comes preloaded with the New York Times among a host of other news sources.
This is an incredibly dangerous precedent. I predict the New York Times will come to its senses and reverse their position. I can’t imagine this sticking.
Update: Position reversed. I’d love to hear an explanation behind what happened.
Update #2: Wait, The Times Company still wants it out. Stay tuned!(image)
Mon, 07 Jun 2010 10:32:55 -0500Every day, many times a day, millions of people snub millions of other people on the Internet. It happens amongst those of us that are fortunate enough (or unfortunate – depending on your viewpoint) to have crossed a relatively modest threshold of social connections facilitated by the Internet and more specifically email. The typical snubbing goes something like this: You’re introduced to someone in person or you reach out to someone that you think is worth connecting with. You send an email. They respond and thank you for the note and convey that they’d love to meet up some time for a drink or lunch or coffee or whatever. You follow up with them and they never respond. Ever. I can attest that this has happened to me. I can also shamefully attest that I’ve done this to others. I promise a follow-up and I never actually follow up. Here’s the ugly reality of email overload: the outcome isn’t just a cluttered inbox. It’s countless people waiting to be acknowledged and – dare I say – respected. But we simply can’t do it. We can only handle so much at a time. The incredible efficiency of email and other communication tools have far outpaced and blown out our own expectations of how we should respectfully and properly communicate with one another. As I stare at my countless emails, I know for certain that there are senders in there that deserve a response and probably won’t get it. Many times a day, every day we send the following signal to those waiting on the other end: “I haven’t gotten to you because there are others that are more important to me right now and, I’m sorry to say, you just haven’t made it up the list.” Doesn’t it sound awful? This is exactly what we do when the flow of emails come in. We prioritize in real-time. The chosen few will get a response. Some will get one almost immediately. The rest? They get nothing. They don’t even get a “sorry, I’m very busy right now” response. They get silence. When we do run into someone we’ve failed to respond to, we usually pile on the “…I’ve just been so slammed with work and the whole conference thing that I just haven’t been able to catch up!” The other person usually just smiles and looks away. They understand where they’ve landed on the priority list. Everyone applauds the hyper-connectedness we’re experiencing today. The truth is we can’t really leverage it in a very meaningful way. There are a chosen few that get proper attention, the rest just end up in a sort of long tail of human connections. They’re relegated to an almost trivial status – only acknowledged as a scored point on your “friends” or “followers” tally. There’s been a lot of interesting discussion of late about what the Internet is doing to our brains. Nick Carr is leading the charge with a recent Wired feature and a new book called The Shallows. In short, the barrage of information that comes at us via the Internet is rewiring our brains. We’re optimizing ourselves for short, fleeting bursts of information. The capacity to focus and think deeply is under threat. I agree with much of Carr’s thinking because I’m experiencing it first hand. Carr makes a compelling argument on the psychological impact of the Internet. What’s most unnerving to me is that some of the “content” I’m consuming (or expected to consume) isn’t a book or an article. It’s people. My diminishing ability to focus and give due attention is actually having a social impact on the people I know and the people that attempt to connect with me. A new social protocol is emerging. We’re starting to sense that we can’t really give one another due attention. The outco[...]
Fri, 04 Jun 2010 11:20:04 -0500
What I love about working at Arc90 is that, rather than just putting in my .02 on some heated debate on design and technology, we actually get to ship stuff to state our case. Shipping is the strongest statement you can make.
Nick Carr recently wrote an interesting post entitled Experiments in Delinkification. The premise was simple: the lure of hyperlinks are a distraction from the reading experience. A heated (and I mean heated) debate ensued and many others chimed in.
Well, we decided to do something about it. Today, we’re releasing an update to Readability that adds the option to turn all hyperlinks in long-form text into a set of footnotes. You can learn all about this update by visiting the Arc90 blog.