When music had to be transferred using physical items, such as records or CDs, record labels made sense: they distributed these physical goods. This is now taken care of in much more efficient ways, and artists can distribute their work to whoever wants to hear it, instantly and almost free, via the internet. The problem of dscovery – making the connection between artists and listeners – still exists, however, and although there are some attempts at a solution, I think we’ll look back on these as rudimentary and largely ineffective.

read more...]]> The traditional music industry is a good example of a flawed system of discovery: Artists have bodies of work, and perhaps very local, very small audiences (relatively speaking). A large record label selects an incredibly small percentage of these artists, whose body of work they promote and distribute to a much larger audience. This is how the majority of audiences currently discover new music – via the marketing efforts of a large organisation (directly or not) that has little to do with the artist-audience relationship, other than a profit motive.

When music had to be transferred using physical items, such as records or CDs, record labels made sense: they distributed these physical goods. This is now taken care of in much more efficient ways, and artists can distribute their work to whoever wants to hear it, instantly and almost free, via the internet. The problem of dscovery – making the connection between artists and listeners – still exists, however, and although there are some attempts at a solution, I think we’ll look back on these as rudimentary and largely ineffective.

When a large record label, or radio station, takes on the role of the link between artist and listener, there’s a huge conflict of interests: profit versus people. If profit is the driving factor, an organisation is forced to select artists that are more efficient at generating profit – those that can sell the same piece of music to lots of people. This is how we end up with a glut of work deliberately aimed at the lowest-common-denominator. Thus, these organisations harm the artfulness that is meant to be at the very core of the industry.

So, we’re left with the problem of discovery: how do we find the music that makes the hair stand up on the backs of our necks, but that we haven’t even heard of yet, within an impossibly large body of work? I don’t have the answer, but I’m fairly certain that it hinges upon better networks of people with real passion for the music they listen to. In the future, we’ll hear about new music through the people we know and trust, they’ll have heard about it via someone they know and trust, and at some point in this chain, the artist themselves will be part of the network, rather than a product on the other end of a marketing machine.

The music industry makes a good example, but the problem of discovery is increasingly pertinent in numerous other areas. Right now, we should be preparing – and pushing – for this future, and thinking about how we can use existing technologies to improve the network. Ultimately, as with almost anything, people are the key factor here, and technology can now facilitate levels of human networking activity that have not previously been possible.

The ways in which we discover new music, literature, art, and various other creative produce, are changing quickly. There are many more questions regarding this space than there are answers, and this makes for exciting times, full of opportunities to create change and help shape a better – more genuinely and personally connected – future. This isn’t about definitive answers, or predicting the future, though; it’s about the inspiration and facility to experiment with changes to old models, and the possibility of restructuring these connections so that we’re much less dependent upon organisations whose only motive is profit.

A starting point for experimentation on the technology front might be to combine use of the Soundcloud API with existing networking tools like Twitter and Facebook.

Commentary on content is the healthiest it’s ever been. Huge, broadly used social networks such as Twitter and Facebook, smaller niche forums, and even local pubs and coffee shops all accommodate these conversations extremely well, and they’re happening more and more. As they happen more, the quality of the discussion inevitably expands in both directions—getting simultaneously better and worse—and people have more opportunity to engage in whichever parts of it interest them the most.

read more...]]> I recently came across this challenge on Mozilla’s Drumbeat.org and it struck me that the whole idea of “fixing” content commentary misses the point somewhat. Commenting isn’t broken, it just isn’t happening in the way that content publishers want it to.

Commentary on content is the healthiest it’s ever been. Huge, broadly used social networks such as Twitter and Facebook, smaller niche forums, and even local pubs and coffee shops all accommodate these conversations extremely well, and they’re happening more and more. As they happen more, the quality of the discussion inevitably expands in both directions—getting simultaneously better and worse—and people have more opportunity to engage in whichever parts of it interest them the most.

The problem isn’t that content commentary is broken, it’s that content publishers have the wrong idea about what it is. These conversations, like any other, will only ever happen on the joint terms of their participants—in the places that they agree upon, using language they they share, and within boundaries that they establish and police. Publishers can not—nor will they ever be able to—take the lead on any of these factors. As a content publisher, the best you can hope to achieve is participation in some of the conversations.

Users register, create a list of things they’re working on—with attached external links where appropriate—and publish the list. A published list can be easily syndicated via RSS, as well as via an HTML or JavaScript snippet for pasting into websites, and various plugins and extensions for popular publishing and social platforms. Each list item becomes a forum thread for discussion, which can also be syndicated.

read more...]]> In the midst of being hopelessly distracted by this list by Jonathan Hoefler of Hoefler+Frere-Jones, it struck me that sharing the things we’re working on could be a good basis for a new app. There are plenty of very broad platforms like Twitter, Facebook, and even ListGeeks, but I think there’s plenty of room for services at the opposite end of the spectrum, with a more specific purpose. Here’s how this might work:

Users register, create a list of things they’re working on—with attached external links where appropriate—and publish the list. A published list can be easily syndicated via RSS, as well as via an HTML or JavaScript snippet for pasting into websites, and various plugins and extensions for popular publishing and social platforms. Each list item becomes a forum thread for discussion, which can also be syndicated.

This could become a good way for organisations and individuals to share their in-progress work and process, as well as make what they do more social and involving. This is all possible with the much broader tools that are currently available, but adapting them to this specific purpose takes time. This app could streamline the whole process, and provide a central hub of activity.

Taking the time to look through a new Twitter follower’s website, learn more about them—what they do, who they are, what they care about—is completely un-scalable. It would be inconceivable to do this each end every time someone new followed me (well, perhaps not—I’m not the world’s most popular Twitter user), but for the occasional one—the ones whose bios seem particularly interesting—it’s perfectly feasible. This way, I often learn something new, and regularly discover incredibly interesting things, places and ideas that I would otherwise never have known.

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Spending a few days working with someone who is using some of our open-source software, to help them get it just right for their particular use case, is completely un-scalable. We can’t do this for everyone who needs a more customised solution, but we can do it for one or two, and we should. The process is important: we gain knowledge of the software being used “in-the-wild” and we gain in-depth knowledge of a user’s direct experience with it. We also improve the software, learn what the next iteration might benefit from, and find bugs that we may not otherwise have uncovered. Most importantly, though, we help someone get the very most out of the thing that we created, which motivates us to create more, to improve what we already have, and to keep looking for more things to do by hand, in a personal and tailored fashion.

Taking the time to look through a new Twitter follower’s website, learn more about them—what they do, who they are, what they care about—is completely un-scalable. It would be inconceivable to do this each end every time someone new followed me (well, perhaps not—I’m not the world’s most popular Twitter user), but for the occasional one—the ones whose bios seem particularly interesting—it’s perfectly feasible. This way, I often learn something new, and regularly discover incredibly interesting things, places and ideas that I would otherwise never have known.

Working with a charity organisation to produce something to help them do even more of their great work, despite a very small budget, is completely un-scalable. Doing this type of work all of the time would cripple the business financially, which would remove our capacity to do this this type of work at all. Doing this once-in-a-while, though, offers huge benefits for us:

• We’re involved in exciting projects that have tangible, real-world effects
• We have the opportunity to build solutions to challenging and unusual problems, gaining experience every step of the way
• We demonstrate the benefits of a well designed web application, and how software can help people undertake projects
• We make new connections and open new opportunities
• We improve our portfolio of work

The things that matter are handcrafted, and cannot be mass-produced. They are experiences—for us and for those with whom we interact. They don’t (and never will) scale, yet they’re vital.

Scalability should be the last thing on our minds. Making personal connections, and taking on the things that make us feel excited about what we do, are the foundations of a good business. These things don’t happen unless we do the things that won’t scale—the things that have to be done by hand—not just as secondary activities, but as our primary focus.

By creating something personal, based on the life or work of the individual speaker, Mailchimp are connecting with many more people, in a much more natural way that they would by simply showing a large logo, or even a clever—but not personal—advert. These slides are easily related to by the people in the room (their audience), and for the few seconds that they’re the focus of attention, they tie these people together in a moment of joint understanding. They bring together the audience and the guest speaker, and in doing so make a meaningful connection.

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I enjoyed this post by Tina Roth Eisenberg today. She writes about how Mailchimp, the sponsor of her Creative Mornings gatherings, are making a custom slide for each separate event, designed with the guest speaker in mind. If you look at the slides they’ve designed so far, you’ll notice that they have nothing to do with Mailchimp, other than a small, discrete logo tucked away in the bottom corner. And they probably don’t even need that—everyone knows who made them.

By creating something personal, based on the life or work of the individual speaker, Mailchimp are connecting with many more people, in a much more natural way that they would by simply showing a large logo, or even a clever—but not personal—advert. These slides are easily related to by the people in the room (their audience), and for the few seconds that they’re the focus of attention, they tie these people together in a moment of joint understanding. They bring together the audience and the guest speaker, and in doing so make a meaningful connection.

When we’re lucky enough to find ourselves with the luxury and responsibly of a little attention, quality is what matters. We can’t afford to irritate an entire nation at a time with a large scale advertising campaign (nor would we want to, nor would it be of much use—we’re in the wrong business, thankfully), so we have to forget about quantity—the simple, old-fashioned idea of exposure.

When we have an opportunity to be more personal, then, we should always take it. It will probably cost more, take longer, and make life a bit more difficult for at least a moment, but it’s one of the best ways there is to create something of quality, something that matters to someone.

Certain people have a great talent for creating a narrative that brings a story to life, encompassing you with it, almost as though you are somehow a part of the experience itself. People with such talents create things like The Octonaughts (the makers of which can be found at this wonderful website) and Hoxton Street Monster Supplies. Stories aren’t just for children, though, grown-ups use them everyday too.

read more...]]> Stories are so important. They are the main tool with which we learn, share, connect and communicate in all aspects of our existence (we should be making better use of stories). Narrative, then, must be a major key to improving the effectiveness of our stories.

Certain people have a great talent for creating a narrative that brings a story to life, encompassing you with it, almost as though you are somehow a part of the experience itself. People with such talents create things like The Octonaughts (the makers of which can be found at this wonderful website) and Hoxton Street Monster Supplies. Stories aren’t just for children, though, grown-ups use them everyday too.

Storytelling is, at it’s heart, very honest. This may sound odd: stories are often used to mislead—the used car salesman stereotype doesn’t tell honest stories, for example. What I mean, is that when the creator of the narrative cares about the story itself, it is evident, whereas when the creator’s motives are weighted towards some other objective, such as making a sale, or persuading you to vote in a certain way, the story tends to feel a little cheap—it lacks something. More often than not, we sense the ulterior motive.

Advertising is an interesting case. Although the ultimate motive of those paying for these TV ads is selling financial services, it seems obvious to me that those who made the actual ads were more interested in the narrative that they were creating—they weren’t selling financial services, they were creating a world.

The generic nature of the stories being told in these ads is an important factor in their narrative success. These stories are not about the organisation being advertised, they’re about the experiences that many of us have. They are stories about about people. I think it’s unlikely that a story about a large, faceless financial organisation, or their specific services or “benefits,” would have been embraced in this way by the ads’ makers. Such a beautifully engrossing narrative world could not have been created for a disingenuous story.

As Really Simple progresses and grows, I’ll be actively seeking out great storytellers to work with, to share stories with, and to help create narratives that make the world an even more interesting place. I’ll also be careful to ensure that we have honest stories to tell.

For now, though, it’s time to get back on the 365 Ideas horse…

read more...]]> It’s been a while. Almost a month, in fact, which is rather poor considering that these posts are supposed to be here every day for a year, and we’re only half way through. I do have a good reason for my absence, however: a great project, which I’ll be writing about soon, and the results of which you’ll find at The Big Pedal website.

For now, though, it’s time to get back on the 365 Ideas horse…

During the last couple of days, I have stumbled across several small problems, each of which I know I can solve with some thought and a little work. So I did (mostly). I’ll provide a couple of examples, neither of which will change the world, but that isn’t the point—I’ll get to the point in a moment.

The first is pretty useless, and highlights my point perfectly. When asked the question: “Is it pancake day today?” I didn’t have a clue. Of course, Google can solve this problem for me faster than I can type in the URL of my apparently pointless solution, which you’ll find here.

No-one is ever likely to use this, let alone care about it, but by making it—not thinking about it, planning it, wondering how it might effect my life, considering its potential for revenue, worrying about whether or not this is an effective use of my time—actually rolling up my sleeves and making the thing, I forced myself to think a little bit differently. Only the act of doing something uses my mind in such a way—there’s absolutely no substitute—and this stimulates me creatively; I have more ideas.

The second of these mini-projects is related to The Big Pedal (linked to above):

Problem: I wanted to update various people about the number of journeys being logged, but had no simple way to view live, up-to-the-minute data as it was entered into the system.

Solution: I built a ticker that polls the database periodically and counts up the journeys as new data is found. I can’t link to it, as it isn’t public (which is a shame, because the nice thing about it is the continuous ticking up as schools enter new data), but here’s a screen shot…

No-one involved with the project had asked for this, or will even use it for all I know, but I made it anyway—It solved my immediate problem.

My point is this: When we have an idea, we should act upon it. There’s never a valid reason not to:

• If the project is too large, make a small, stripped-down version that only we will ever see.
• If it requires skills that we don’t have, make the parts that we do have the skills to build, and figure the rest out later.
• If it seems futile, make it anyway—we always gain experience, stimulate our minds, and gain confidence by producing something.
• If it might not work, then we should just get on with it.
• If we’re too busy, we should take an afternoon out, make it anyway, and catch up on the other stuff (we always do).
• If we don’t know where to start, we should draw a picture of it (or an element of it).
• If we don’t think it’s good enough, we don’t have to show it to anyone.
• If it isn’t what we do, we should temporarily change what we do.

If we continue to make things, and to realise the ideas that occur to us on a regular basis—so many of which disappear into the ether—we can change the way we think about making things: about how easily we can make ideas real, and about how effective it can be to simply get stuck into a project, regardless of it’s apparent potential.

Why is it not important who made the trainers that you’re wearing right now? (Not the company, the human being).; Why aren’t we interested in the story and process behind the manufacture of our cleaning products?; Why is it enough for us to simply know that it works, and require no more information about so much of the stuff that we buy?; Has this always been the case, even before mass-production?; Is this a trait of ours—of people—or have we learned this over time?; If we have learned this over time, is this out of necessity, or due to manipulation, or both?; If this is due to either necessity, or our natural traits as people, why do we value such a lack of knowledge—such a lack of depth in our connection to the things that we buy and use? What purpose does this serve?

read more...]]> This is something that has bothered me for some time. It really deserves a much longer, well-researched, investigative post, but for now, as a kind of preamble to that, here are a few of the questions I have on the matter:

• Why is it not important who made the trainers that you’re wearing right now? (Not the company, the human being).
• Why aren’t we interested in the story and process behind the manufacture of our cleaning products?
• Why is it enough for us to simply know that it works, and require no more information about so much of the stuff that we buy?
• Has this always been the case, even before mass-production?
• Is this a trait of ours—of people—or have we learned this over time?
• If we have learned this over time, is this out of necessity, or due to manipulation, or both?
• If this is due to either necessity, or our natural traits as people, why do we value such a lack of knowledge—such a lack of depth in our connection to the things that we buy and use? What purpose does this serve?

I don’t have answers for these questions, but I think they’re worth thinking about, even if only in terms of our own individual existence.

If what we do can be reproduced digitally, we should be embracing that as a huge advantage, and encouraging the spread of our digital produce. If we don’t have anything else to offer, then perhaps we don’t get paid. And perhaps that’s fine.

read more...]]> In many ways, it amazes me that there’s still any debate about Digital Rights Management, and the litigation and technology required to stem the flow of copyright infringement. Regardless of your take on the morality of the issue, I feel that pursuing such goals is an utter waste of resources—there’s no way for the copyright holders to win at this, so why play?

If what we do can be reproduced digitally, we should be embracing that as a huge advantage, and encouraging the spread of our digital produce. If we don’t have anything else to offer, then perhaps we don’t get paid. And perhaps that’s fine.

You can’t digitally reproduce:

• The smell of a new book
• The feeling of turning a page
• The ability to turn everything off and read something
• Live music
• Theatre
• Letterpress prints
• A comfy chair
• Holding an object in your hands
• Having a face-to-face conversation
• Cold beer
• Trust
• Friendship
• Belonging
• Community
• A room full of real people

For all intents and purposes, this list could be infinite, yet we seem to be obsessed with protecting the things that can be reproduced and passed from person to person. We’re actively trying to prevent this from happening. Please, lets stop flogging this horse (its dead), and go and make something else—something better—instead.

Being new and small, and not having much of an audience to speak of, on the other hand, offers us the freedom to be very specific, to act as though there’s no-one watching—do things in a way that attracts attention because of its specificity and honesty. Why waste such an opportunity?

read more...]]> It’s tempting to become more and more generic in the hope that we’ll satisfy a higher percentage of those who encounter what we do (I’ve found myself doing this with these posts). This is false economy—certainly when we don’t already have a large audience, and I suspect even when we do.

Being new and small, and not having much of an audience to speak of, on the other hand, offers us the freedom to be very specific, to act as though there’s no-one watching—do things in a way that attracts attention because of its specificity and honesty. Why waste such an opportunity?

More than anything, this is a personal reminder. I’ll be more specific in future posts.

Learning a lot about the subject; Generating a resource for yourself and others; Building something that lasts; Building something slowly—taking small, regular steps forward; Refining your taste, and ability to discern quality; Connecting with others in the same field (or similar ones); Creating a collection that only you could have

read more...]]> Building and curating a collection has several benefits, including:

• Learning a lot about the subject
• Generating a resource for yourself and others
• Building something that lasts
• Building something slowly—taking small, regular steps forward
• Refining your taste, and ability to discern quality
• Connecting with others in the same field (or similar ones)
• Creating a collection that only you could have

All of the above can be very satisfying personally and, in combination, will often provide opportunities for an organisation or individual to create something of great value. Those who create collections that achieve such things often share many of the following ideas:

• Quality beats quantity
• Educated (through experience) personal taste beats generic
• Little and often is better than large and irregular
• Intelligent study of the subject develops the skills of the curator
• Collaboration beats competition
• Timelessness beats timeliness

By looking at the concept of opportunity as something that is scarce, and which we must hunt, pounce upon, and leverage from it every last drop of potential, we cause huge problems. We place relationships under stress—the very same relationships from which opportunity springs in the first place—and we create this scarcity. This perception of scarceness is self-fulfilling, and I’d like to propose an alternative.

read more...]]> The concept of opportunity is misguided. In business, and in any other situation where someone has something to ‘sell’ (an idea, for example), we’re sold the idea that opportunities are ours for the taking, that we should be on the lookout for them, and should pro-actively create them for our own benefit. I disagree.

By looking at the concept of opportunity as something that is scarce, and which we must hunt, pounce upon, and leverage from it every last drop of potential, we cause huge problems. We place relationships under stress—the very same relationships from which opportunity springs in the first place—and we create this scarcity. This perception of scarceness is self-fulfilling, and I’d like to propose an alternative.

If we, instead, look at opportunity as something that it is our duty to generate, not for ourselves, but for the greater good, I think we can achieve some important shifts in the way that business (and other human activity) impacts our existence:

Relationships Improve

If we dedicate time and energy to generating opportunity for the greater good—anything from providing someone we meet with the opportunity to tell us what they care about, to providing the opportunity to cure a horrific disease—with no expectation of a return on our investment (of time, energy or money), we’ll build better relationships. Stronger relationships develop more and better opportunities.

Stronger Communities

Part of the breakdown of the small, local community (and there are many reasons) has to do with the way in which we are sold, and take on, the idea of opportunity. The community is no longer important, because opportunity is about me and my development, success, wealth, position in the world. If we begin to experience the positive effects of seeing opportunity as something that we create for others, rather than seek out for ourselves, the whole ethos behind opportunity will shift.

Contrary to Popular Belief, We Can Choose

For those who feel the need to become excessively wealthy, or powerful, at the expense of others, seeking opportunity is the answer—take advantage, leverage, and remove the opportunity from the table. It’s a risky game, though—one of combat, competition, high risk, and devastating failures. Fortunately, we don’t have to play (although we’re constantly made to believe that we do).

The alternative is to create opportunity, not for ourselves, but for others and for the greater good. By investing our resources into increasing the pool of opportunity, we can begin a positive cycle; one in which opportunity is no longer a scarce commodity to be won, hoarded and protected, but is instead an abundant product of our communities.

For me, a business card should do two things:

read more...]]> I’ve given quite a bit of thought to business cards over the last few months, about their purpose and their role in the relationships that we form in the course of our work.

For me, a business card should do two things:

• Provide you with an access point—a way to stay in touch
• Remind you of—or provide you with—you a reason to stay in touch

All business cards fulfil the first of these criteria, which seems to fit the general consensus on what a business card is. Only a small percentage, however, even attempt to address the latter.

How we do this will depend largely upon what we do, the circumstances under which we pass on our card, who we’re giving it to, and what interaction we’ve previously had with that person. In short, it requires some real thought—perhaps we’ll want to use different business cards for different occasions, for example—but it’s worth taking the time to do so. That said, here’s a quick idea that many might be able to apply to their own situation:

Put Your Tweets on Business Cards

Although Twitter is often used to syndicate content, promote ideas, or push products, it is without doubt most effective when it becomes an intriguing window into a person’s life (this is why I decided that our use of Twitter was all wrong). If we use Twitter, and we’re honest and confident enough about what we do to offer a genuine window into our daily existence, then some (though certainly not all) of our Tweets will demand follow-up. We’ve all read a Tweet, had to know the back-story, and looked up the conversation, or the rest of the person’s stream, or clicked on the link.

Why not pull some of our most intriguing Tweets and use them on the backs of business cards? With careful selection, this could easily fulfil the second, but equally important, purpose of the card.

How about making some beautiful and useful postcards, and offering to send them out on a first come, first served basis to any takers? They might, for example, provide a quick reference of keyboard shortcuts for popular software programs. There are two important things to consider here:

read more...]]> Direct marketers will hate this idea—it takes one of their basic, bread-and-butter techniques for interrupting people, and mutates it into something altogether less intrusive.

How about making some beautiful and useful postcards, and offering to send them out on a first come, first served basis to any takers? They might, for example, provide a quick reference of keyboard shortcuts for popular software programs. There are two important things to consider here:

1. Don’t send them to anyone who hasn’t explicitly asked for them, ever… no, not even then.

2. Remove as much of your self-interest as possible.

If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you’ll understand the former quite well. The latter, however, might need a little explanation.

It is tempting, when giving something away for free—whether that thing is a humble postcard, or a piece of world-changing software—to leave more than just your creation with its new owner, to leave your mark in other, more intrusive ways, such as words, logos and other things that have collectively become known as branding.

The problem here is the intrusion. If you give something away, but you then ask for attention in return, the thing you gave is no longer free. Interestingly, and beautifully, when you ask for nothing in return, you’ll often gain attention anyway. In this respect, this is a little bit like flying.

What if the only branding devices that you have are the things that people say about you? No logos, no tag-lines, no strict colour schemes or standardised selection of typefaces. Just the things that you do, and the things that people say about those things.

Returning to my postcard example, what if they were just simple, beautiful and useful postcards for your desk, and nothing more? No company name, not even a web address. Would people talk about them (and you)? I think it depends on just how useful, beautiful and remarkable they are.

If you can make people talk about what you do without actually putting your name on anything, you’re doing something right, and the word will continue to spread.

We could take our favourite spam comment each week, and turn it into a nice desktop wallpaper, designing some semblance of meaning into their vacuous words (or just making pretty pictures with them!). I like the idea of turning something with—admittedly varying degrees of—malicious intent, and often profit driven, into something to give away for free.

read more...]]> We get quite a lot of spam comments here on the Really Simple Works blog. Thanks to the rather wonderful Akismet, I needn’t worry about it, but it can be fun to have a quick read through the comments marked as spam now and then—they can be hilarious.

We could take our favourite spam comment each week, and turn it into a nice desktop wallpaper, designing some semblance of meaning into their vacuous words (or just making pretty pictures with them!). I like the idea of turning something with—admittedly varying degrees of—malicious intent, and often profit driven, into something to give away for free.

Here’s an example (use the link below the image to download the full sized wallpaper version):

Get the large version

What if you started a news website that only reported real news, and only ever used high quality journalists, who produced high quality journalism?

read more...]]> Yet another quick idea (for a content website this time)…

What if you started a news website that only reported real news, and only ever used high quality journalists, who produced high quality journalism?

On days that had no news, your site would simply state:

Today, there is nothing to report. Please find something interesting to read elsewhere and check back tomorrow.

No pressure to create news, or generate content using sensationalism. No reason to compromise journalistic integrity.

I believe that this would work for two very good reasons:

1. The current market for news is awash with the exact opposite of this—the market is desperate for it.
2. There are, most likely, plenty of journalists who would jump at the chance to write for such a publication, regardless of remuneration (but you should pay for great talent).

Someone do this, please. I’ll be your first paid subscriber.

What if you could check in whilst having a coffee, for example, and have the app provide you with a selection of content that has recently been consumed by others whilst sitting in that exact same place? You could earn points by leaving great content behind, and the coffee shop may even want to run a content based on such a points system: the ten best voted content finders in Great Coffee Co this week get a free coffee and muffin. Coffee shops could gain a reputation for the quality of their customers content!

read more...]]> There’s something particularly nice about the serendipity of picking up a newspaper or magazine—sometimes even a postcard or flyer—left behind on a train or in a coffee shop, and reading whichever page it’s previous reader left it folded at. Could a mobile, location based app deliver something similar in digital form?

What if you could check in whilst having a coffee, for example, and have the app provide you with a selection of content that has recently been consumed by others whilst sitting in that exact same place? You could earn points by leaving great content behind, and the coffee shop may even want to run a content based on such a points system: the ten best voted content finders in Great Coffee Co this week get a free coffee and muffin. Coffee shops could gain a reputation for the quality of their customers content!

I like this more as I write. Hmmm…

There are an infinate number of ways in which we can expand our horizons—this is a life-long endevour, which should be built into our everyday lives no matter what the cost (it’s that important). We can do big things, like moving to another country. We can also do very small, very regular things, like reading a book.

read more...]]> Expanding your horizons is always a good thing. The broader our scope of experience—the more people we meet, places we visit, books we read, flavours we taste, art we experience, stories we learn—the better we become. We become more creative, better at connecting with others, and more tolerant of differences, more unique as individuals.

There are an infinate number of ways in which we can expand our horizons—this is a life-long endevour, which should be built into our everyday lives no matter what the cost (it’s that important). We can do big things, like moving to another country. We can also do very small, very regular things, like reading a book.

Most of us know these things, of course—it’s fairly common wisdom—yet we have a huge tendency to completely ignore this idea when it comes to our work.

At Really Simple, we make things for the web. I spend a lot of time on the web, using Twitter and social bookmarking tools, and communicating with others who work with and use the web. Left unchecked, this situation can become a little incestuous, and so I like to keep up with a handful of architecture and packaging design blogs:

The Dieline and Lovely Package are both blogs highlighting nice packaging designs. Ambalaj is another good one, and focusses on sustainable packaging.

The Architecture Blog on Tumblr is a classic (and is where the image below comes from). Anarchitecture is aimed at “those in the orbit of architecture,” and is great for visuals and ideas around it. Wanken, by Shelby White, is a more general visually oriented blog, but with plenty of architecture (and lots of other out-of-field inspiration).

The image below is of a room—a beautiful space. I have no idea where it is, who uses it, or who made it the way it is, and it certainly wouldn’t seem like much of an inspiration when it comes to building things that live on the web. But the fact that I know this image, and can pinpoint those aspects of it that I’m attracted to, affords me some of the tools that I use every day in the work that I do.

I’m actually a fan of long-form writing. I really enjoy getting stuck into a good article, and hope that people continue to write long-form for the web, but given that we’re, more often than not, attempting to communicate an idea within a space that increases the attention deficit of its inhabitants, perhaps we should give this some thought. Shorter and more concise, punchier and more punctuated, a curated narrative presented in an interesting way.

read more...]]> The web reduces our attention span. I’m not sure that there’s a great deal we can do about this—essentially, it seems to stem from the simple and pure form of instant gratification that rewards us whenever we click on a link.

I’m actually a fan of long-form writing. I really enjoy getting stuck into a good article, and hope that people continue to write long-form for the web, but given that we’re, more often than not, attempting to communicate an idea within a space that increases the attention deficit of its inhabitants, perhaps we should give this some thought. Shorter and more concise, punchier and more punctuated, a curated narrative presented in an interesting way.

I’m being quite vague here, because there are a million and one ways to start experimenting with this idea. To start with, have a look at this excellent example.

Conferences aren’t just about the speakers, they’re just as much about meeting people—old and new friends—it’s just about unheard of for a web design conference not to have an after-party, and they often sport some fringe social events too. So, if we’re all keen to mingle and socialise, why wouldn’t we want to start beforehand, on the journey there, and save some CO2, travel expense, and road congestion while we’re at it?

read more...]]> I recently attended the excellent New Adventures in Web Design conference, at which almost half of the 600 attendees had arrived by car. It seems to me that such large numbers should present an opportunity to reduce the number of car journeys generated by such an event.

Conferences aren’t just about the speakers, they’re just as much about meeting people—old and new friends—it’s just about unheard of for a web design conference not to have an after-party, and they often sport some fringe social events too. So, if we’re all keen to mingle and socialise, why wouldn’t we want to start beforehand, on the journey there, and save some CO2, travel expense, and road congestion while we’re at it?

Car sharing applications already exist, but they tend to focus on car sharing for work, and other regular journeys. There should be an app that conference organisers can use to set up an official car-sharing option for their event. This could easily hook into a service like Lanyrd to help gather attendees from the same areas.

There should be an app for that.

The problem with testing is that it can only establish rules that people agree upon. If we test a button or some copy on a web page, and a thousand people take the test, all we learn about is the common ground shared by these people. We learn how to build things that aren’t wrong, not how to build things that delight their users—a distinction that is both vitally important, and frequently overlooked.

read more...]]> Usability testing is great. It informs us about how to make things that people can use more easily, with less effort, and how we can ensure that users complete tasks in the quickest and most efficient ways. This is all good, and should inform the work that we do, but it shouldn’t dictate.

The problem with testing is that it can only establish rules that people agree upon. If we test a button or some copy on a web page, and a thousand people take the test, all we learn about is the common ground shared by these people. We learn how to build things that aren’t wrong, not how to build things that delight their users—a distinction that is both vitally important, and frequently overlooked.

There is no common ground for delight. Delight is an individual and personal experience—it effects you, and only you. The more we focus on the common ground, the less likely we are to cause delight, and the broader that common ground becomes, the further removed we are from the experience of the individual.

Common ground can be discovered by usability testing, customer service surveys, and any other form of collated data about the experience that people have when they come into contact with us, or with the things that we make. This is important—we should try to build things that aren’t wrong. We should not, however, allow ourselves to become distracted by such things.

People encounter us one individual at a time. You can’t test for that.

read more...]]> Ken Robinson has some excellent points to make about education, its roots in the bygone era of the industrial revolution, and its negative effect upon our abilities in divergent thinking. For a quick, ten minute section of this speech, given at the RSA, try this edition, accompanied by some nice kinetic illustration:

Or watch the whole thing (a little under an hour):

This is all fine if you intend to exactly emulate a proven, existing model, but such an obsession with precedents will, by its very nature, eliminate innovation. This isn’t to say that innovative ventures can’t be backed by research and knowledge (generally, it’s a good thing when they are), but this must be carefully balanced, such that research is not allowed to stunt creativity.

read more...]]> When it come to new ventures, traditional wisdom tells us that we should thoroughly research the market, find precedents to prove that our proposed model is sound—and that the books are likely to balance—and use this data to produce an iron-clad business plan that even the most risk averse of investors would struggle to resist.

This is all fine if you intend to exactly emulate a proven, existing model, but such an obsession with precedents will, by its very nature, eliminate innovation. This isn’t to say that innovative ventures can’t be backed by research and knowledge (generally, it’s a good thing when they are), but this must be carefully balanced, such that research is not allowed to stunt creativity.

This quote from co-founder of WomenTalkSports.com sums up my point here:

We didn’t research the market for this… It just came from our belief that something like this really needed to happen

Quoted from this article at Inc.com.

If we don’t realise an idea because we’re not sure about its chances of success, we’re never going to make anything new or interesting. If what we’re doing is innovative, there is no precedent. Instead of looking for ways to prove a viable business model, we should be looking for ways to test our ideas in the real world—to make them a reality, regardless of their potential chances of success.

Instead of using our time, energy and resources to reduce our chances of failure, we should be figuring out how to make it easier to experiment and fail.

I’m currently working a a large project for a client. It’s a lot of of work, very demanding in many respects, and it places a lot of pressure on the time I have to write these posts, as well as do the many other things that make up Really Simple. I know, though, that it’s worth doing, and that I’ll have something to say at the end of it.

read more...]]> A few days ago I wrote two consecutive posts, one about telling stories and another about the importance of the process. If we combine these two ideas, we have an age-old technique, used by mentors to pass on skills and knowledge, and by students and others to demonstrate them: showing your workings.

I’m currently working a a large project for a client. It’s a lot of of work, very demanding in many respects, and it places a lot of pressure on the time I have to write these posts, as well as do the many other things that make up Really Simple. I know, though, that it’s worth doing, and that I’ll have something to say at the end of it.

If we take the time and make the effort to go through the process without cutting corners, the process becomes a good story. We should be recording these stories — even if we don’t have the time to tell them right now, they’re valuable and should, at some point, be made available to others.

How about making a series of posters—one for each individual idea in the manifesto? There are several things that we’d have to get right in order for for this work, and to help our ideas spread:

read more...]]> I’ve recently been writing a manifesto for Really Simple, and now that it’s almost done, I’ve started to think about how best to present it here on the website. I have some interesting ideas, which I’ll write about at a later date, and they’re largely to do with communicating these ideas visually. This led me to start thinking about ways to spread ideas such as these in other, offline, places.

How about making a series of posters—one for each individual idea in the manifesto? There are several things that we’d have to get right in order for for this work, and to help our ideas spread:

• Ideas that others can identify and agree with—otherwise, who would be interested in the poster?
• Ideas that are much bigger than Really Simple—this kind of thing doesn’t work if it’s all about us—it has to be entertaining, useful, beautiful, or about changing the world in some way. For our manifesto, I prefer a combination of the last two
• Simple, concise communication—posters are a little like Twitter in this respect
• High quality design, print, and paper stock—not doing this would be to ignore some of the ideas in the manifesto, whereas paying attention to the quality of the presentation of the idea would certainly help the message spread

This might work for you too. Put what you care about on a poster, be honest and genuine, and invest in a great designer, a knowledgeable printer, and high quality paper.

There is an art, it says, or rather, a knack to flying.    The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.    Pick a nice day, it suggests, and try it.    The first part is easy.    All it requires is simply the ability to throw yourself forward with all your weight, and willingness not to mind that it’s going to hurt.    That is, it’s going to hurt if you fail to miss the ground.    Most people fail to miss the ground, and if they are really trying properly, the likelihood is that they will fail to miss it fairly hard.    Clearly, it is this second part, the missing, which presents the difficulties.    One problem is that you have to miss the ground accidentally. It’s no good deliberately intending to miss the ground because you won’t. You have to have your attention suddenly distracted by something else when you’re halfway there, so that you are no longer thinking about falling, or about the ground, or about how much it’s going to hurt if you fail to miss it.    It is notoriously difficult to prise your attention away from these three things during the split second you have at your disposal. Hence most people’s failure, and their eventual disillusionment with this exhilarating and spectacular sport.    If, however, you are lucky enough to have your attention momentarily distracted at the crucial moment by, say, a gorgeous pair of legs (tentacles, pseudopodia, according to phyllum and/or personal inclination) or a bomb going off in your vicinity, or by suddenly spotting an extremely rare species of beetle crawling along a nearby twig, then in your astonishment you will miss the ground completely and remain bobbing just a few inches above it in what might seem to be a slightly foolish manner.    This is a moment for superb and delicate concentration.    Bob and float, float and bob.

read more...]]> Below is a quote from The Hitchhikers’s Guide to the Galaxy. It strikes me that flying is a lot like having ideas.

There is an art, it says, or rather, a knack to flying.
   The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.
   Pick a nice day, it suggests, and try it.
   The first part is easy.
   All it requires is simply the ability to throw yourself forward with all your weight, and willingness not to mind that it’s going to hurt.
   That is, it’s going to hurt if you fail to miss the ground.
   Most people fail to miss the ground, and if they are really trying properly, the likelihood is that they will fail to miss it fairly hard.
   Clearly, it is this second part, the missing, which presents the difficulties.
   One problem is that you have to miss the ground accidentally. It’s no good deliberately intending to miss the ground because you won’t. You have to have your attention suddenly distracted by something else when you’re halfway there, so that you are no longer thinking about falling, or about the ground, or about how much it’s going to hurt if you fail to miss it.
   It is notoriously difficult to prise your attention away from these three things during the split second you have at your disposal. Hence most people’s failure, and their eventual disillusionment with this exhilarating and spectacular sport.
   If, however, you are lucky enough to have your attention momentarily distracted at the crucial moment by, say, a gorgeous pair of legs (tentacles, pseudopodia, according to phyllum and/or personal inclination) or a bomb going off in your vicinity, or by suddenly spotting an extremely rare species of beetle crawling along a nearby twig, then in your astonishment you will miss the ground completely and remain bobbing just a few inches above it in what might seem to be a slightly foolish manner.
   This is a moment for superb and delicate concentration.
   Bob and float, float and bob.

It follows, then, that the most efficient use of our effort is in holding on to whatever momentum we already have. We should do whatever it takes.

read more...]]> Whether we’re riding a bike, writing a blog, or working with a large team on a big and complicated project, the largest effort is always spent on gaining momentum. Once we lose that inertia, it takes a lot of work to regain it—unfortunately, though, we rarely have the level of enthusiasm that built that momentum initially.

It follows, then, that the most efficient use of our effort is in holding on to whatever momentum we already have. We should do whatever it takes.

Why not use this facility to create an annual, or even quarterly—if there’s enough happening—publication about our progress? The things we’ve made (and how we made them), the decisions we took, the direction we followed, and our hopes and plans for the future could all be collected in a printed archive. This archive could then be kept around as a guide for our activities over the coming months.

read more...]]> Print on demand services have made it possible for anyone to self publish a book, and print runs as small as a single book are now possible at very affordable prices. This makes it perfectly viable for us to use this medium as a tool, rather than a product.

Why not use this facility to create an annual, or even quarterly—if there’s enough happening—publication about our progress? The things we’ve made (and how we made them), the decisions we took, the direction we followed, and our hopes and plans for the future could all be collected in a printed archive. This archive could then be kept around as a guide for our activities over the coming months.

The nice things about this idea, is that you can do it with anything—it will work equally well with almost any other aspect of life.

I want all of the URLs that I share via Twitter to be automatically gathered by a web service, bookmarked, and archived for me, so that I can search and explore them at any time in the future.

read more...]]> Another quick and unrefined web app idea:

I want all of the URLs that I share via Twitter to be automatically gathered by a web service, bookmarked, and archived for me, so that I can search and explore them at any time in the future.

Now that I have a list of bookmarks, why not crawl each URL for me, pull out media, and generate previews, to help me remember what each one is about, and make them more searchable?

Two existing solutions come to mind: The beautiful looking Flipboard for the iPad and paper.li on the web. These are both great services, and do what they do very well, but they focus on the content being shared by those whom I follow, rather than by me. They also focus on real-time (or very recent) content, and don’t seem to offer much in the way of creation, search, and exploration of archives.

The app I’m thinking of is, first and foremost, a way for me to keep a history of the links that I’m posting, allowing me to use Twitter to bookmark as I share. The large majority of the links that I share are shared because I think they’re useful, and I usually want to bookmark them — sharing a URL via Twitter, and then pasting that same URL into a bookmarking tool, seems like an unnecessary chore.

This concept could also be extended to work with the content shared by the people I follow, which would begin to encroach a little on the territory of Flipboard and paper.li, but would, again, have its focus on creating, searching and exploring archives, rather than the real-time stream.

Does this exist somewhere? I’d use it constantly.

It’s all about making things for people — real people, with illogical desires, and who are delighted by unpredictable things. The audience here are mainly digital creatives, but the content is relevant for anyone who makes things.

read more...]]> It’s Sunday afternoon, and I’m cheating again — using some else’s idea. I’m going to point you in the direction of this excellent presentation by Brendan Dawes (creative director of magneticNorth).

It’s all about making things for people — real people, with illogical desires, and who are delighted by unpredictable things. The audience here are mainly digital creatives, but the content is relevant for anyone who makes things.

This is all about causing delight.

The Grammar of Interactive Design from FITC on Vimeo.

(The sound quality isn’t great, but it’s well worth the effort.)

Oh, and if you like the idea of causing delight, try this one too.