Last night I had dinner with some friends at the forge. As part of my ongoing (and completely unsanctioned) work as a Vox goodwill ambassador to the 40-something set, I talked to two more of my friends about Vox. I've written about these friends before. They are two of the brightest, most-educated, articulate people I know, and I would love to see them in Vox. They are displaced East-coasters with a daughter Juju's age. He used to be a journalist and she is a business consultant. I love talking to them.
Interestingly enough when it comes to blogging, the question in the forefront of their minds is this: But what would I write about?
Kind of funny, don’t you think? Two of the brightest people I know, one of whom used to be a professional writer, and they don't know what to write. I totally get that. I know exactly how they feel.
These are my friends and I really want them to write. So I thought I would try to help a little by writing a few thoughts about blogging in Vox. Karen's rules, if you will. Which means of course that no one else has to follow them. In fact no one in my neighborhood needs these rules at all -- you already know what to do. But I want to give some food for thought to my friends in the hope that they will give it a try. And since they're not in Vox yet, I'm making this public.
So the rest of you should feel free to skip on along to something else, especially since this post is starting to look a wee bit long (you know me, brevity is not my strong suit).
Ok, so these are not actually rules, maybe they're guidelines, or simply food for thought:
First off, know this: I want to hear your voice. This is not formal writing. Talk like yourself, like you do when we're having dinner together. Ok, the way you do before we've had four bottles of wine. Yes, you get points for good spelling and grammar (that comes naturally to you anyway), but if you start to sound like Abe Lincoln it won't be you. Be you. I think you're brilliant.
Second, talk about what you know. You know so much more than I do about almost everything from politics to parenthood. Talk about your experiences. We all make our way in the world in a different way. Tell me about yours. We're not together every day - or even every month. Fill in some of the blanks for me.
Three. Don't be too ambitious, just tell one of your stories. Vox is the land of anecdotes. Short and sweet works great (I am not a good role model for this).
Four, don't have anything to say? That's fine. You don't have to post every day, or even every week. Just because I look forward to your posts doesn't mean you have to satisfy me (god knows no one else does). Write when you feel like it. And don't head trip yourself about it. Do it when it feels right.
Five. Don't have anything to say? Try pictures. Show me a picture of you. Your family. Your backyard. Your dinner out. A picture's worth a thousand words, right? Show me the weird thing you saw on your way to work. Show me the world the way you saw it this morning.
Six. Still don't know what to share? How 'bout some music? Introduce my ears to something new. Post an actual song so I can hear it. No one else can download it, so posting music won't cause any trouble.
Seven. Still drawing a blank? Take a stab at The Question Of the Day. You don't have to answer it straight. I often use it as a jumping off place - sometimes as a total non-sequitor to some other story.
Eight. Not ready to share with others? This can be a place where you write just for yourself. While I would love to be hanging on your every word, there might be things you want to keep to yourself. This place is safe, you can trust your thoughts with it.
Nine. Don't feel like you have to bare your soul. No one ever said you had to expose yourself blogging. Write at the level of intimacy that feels right for you. And if you want to tell me your secrets, I'm all ears (just like always). In fact, just go ahead and mark me "family" ;-)
Ten. If you decide to write publicly, don't write anything you wouldn't want your mother, boss or random admirer to find out. Vox ranks very high on Google and your public posts will be extremely easy to find. Follow the same rules as e-mail: never post anything publicly that you wouldn't feel comfortable having read at your deposition. Do I think you'll ever be deposed? No. But use your head. Anything can happen. Privacy controls are your friend.
And finally. Thank you for even thinking about doing this. I know it seems weird. And it might make you feel a little vulnerable. All I can say is that the worst thing that will happen in here is nothing. And if you're like most people, nothing will feel bad enough. Finally you let down your guard, spill your guts and nothing happens. (As a community, we all need to be commenting more than we do.)
But I won't let that happen to you. I will read you. And I will give you feedback.
All I'm really asking is that you try. Really, if you don't like it, you can stop any time you want.
Show us a great pumpkin.
In honor of Vox's launch tomorrow, what's your favorite feature or aspect of Vox?
Take 2, this time with feeling:
When I first heard about blogging I was very skeptical. Why would anyone do it? Why would a person put themselves out there, live in the public eye and open themselves up to public comment (aka ridicule)? My sense was that you had to be a special kind of person to do it well, and that the blogoshere (damn I still really hate that word) was full of pontificaters. People who loved to hear the sound of their own voice.
Flash forward a bit, and I'm contracting for Six Apart, mecca for blogging. It was a surreal and wonderful experience. I got to meet some incredibly smart, articulate and talented people, several of whom have since become friends, but I never really felt like I was one of them, I never felt like I should try to blog. In fact my experience working at Six Apart had kind of a boomerang effect; I could see why others would blog, but not why I would do it.
I started a TypePad blog quietly, to try it out. I did it sporadically, mostly to assuage my guilt at not keeping in touch with my family or even keeping a decent record of my kids' childhoods. I told my parents about it, and my sister. I was a little embarrassed about it.
Then in the spring I was invited to try Vox. I was working someplace else by then but Ginger generously invited me (thank you) to try out the alpha. It was soooo fun. Safe too, because it was just a bunch of friends in there. And it was liberating. Suddenly I found myself writing about things that I hadn't thought about before and I found that I wanted to write and to share in a way that I had never done before. Growing up I was a voracious reader. And though I was good with words verbally, I never showed any talent for stringing stories together on paper. My personal expression was always music, never writing.
So it was strange to find myself needing to write. I started carrying around a notebook because I would get these ideas for posts that I didn't want to lose track of. Some were just titles, some were full blown stories, and some were visuals. As the Vox beta went on and new functionality was added I realized that I had found my medium. I could use words, pictures, video and music to express myself. But the core is still writing. I love it now.
I find it so interesting that I could find this out about myself at this stage in my life. I wish, I wish that I could get my friends to try it and to do this too. But it could be that they already know who they are and don't need this kind of outlet. Or maybe they do need an outlet, but don't know where to begin. Or maybe they just don't have the time.
I certainly should not have the time. I steal this time away from other things: my husband, my kids, my projects, my sleep...
Anyway, I owe some thank yous to some of my favorite 6Aers and this launch seems a good time for it: Thank you, Barak, for introducing me to this whole crazy idea in the first place and bringing me on for six months of fun. And to Ginger and Lilia for encouraging me to write when I was sure I was too old for any of my stories to be interesting or relevant. To Sippey, Anil and Mena for being such amazing role models for blogging. Andrew too. Your style is completely different and frankly you're the one who made me feel like it was ok to blog things that were silly or mundane (I really mean that in a good way). Alaina and Miz Genevra, who encouraged me to blog my attempts to get fit, along with my lunch. And just like the Academy awards I'm sure I've left some important people out, not the least of whom are my newly found non-6A Vox friends. And I will remember everyone I've forgotten to thank just as soon as my head hits the pillow (in about three minutes) with an "oh shit." Please forgive me for that, Byrne.
Thanks to all of you for building such a great place to hang out.
I love it here.
In honor of Vox's launch tomorrow, what's your favorite feature or aspect of Vox?
The fact that I can insert the perfect song, complete with the cover art.
The first step is admitting you have a problem. ;-)
From a recent Stanford study:
The US could be rife with "internet addicts" who are as clinically ill as alcoholics, according to psychiatrists involved in a nationwide study.
The study, carried out by researchers at Stanford University School of Medicine in California, US, indicates that more than one in eight US residents show signs of "problematic internet use".
Most disturbing, according to the study's lead author Elias Aboujaoude, is the discovery that some people hide their internet surfing, or go online to cure foul moods – behaviour that mirrors the way alcoholics behave.
"In a sense, they're using the internet to self-medicate," Aboujaoude says. "And, obviously, something is wrong when people go out of their way to hide their internet activity."
Nearly 14% of respondents said they found it difficult to stay away from the internet for several days and 12% admitted that they often remain online longer than expected.
The entire NewScientistTech article is here.
Show us something steep.
