Categories
Weblogging Writing

Google is not God, Webloggers are not capital-J journalists, the only thing emerging is my fear of war, and a headache

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

Though my opinion will not be shared by the majority of those who read this, I greatly appreciated the article appearing in the BBC News, Is Google too Powerful. Not only did the writer, Bill Thompson, challenge this continuing nonsense about webloggers ‘replacing’ mainstream Captital-J Journalism, he also exposed the falsity of the godhood with which Google is treated.

Of the so called ‘superior accuracy’ of webloggers, he writes:

The much-praised reputation mechanism that is supposed to ensure that bloggers remain true, honest and factually-correct is, in fact, just the rule of the mob, where those who shout loudest and get the most links are taken more seriously.

It is the online equivalent of saying that The Sun newspaper always tells the truth because four million people read it, and The Guardian is intrinsically less trustworthy as it only sells half a million.

 

When it comes to world news and opinion, he or she who gets the most links, wins in the world of weblogging. Those with the pareto charts and your esoteric algorithims of popularity tend to prove this out. According to the charts, rather than a new form of connectivity, we’re really just another instance typical of medieval community: with the indifferent, smug supremacy of the elite at the top and rule by the mob at the bottom (we know about the viablity of mob rule for fair and ethical treatment of either person or subject).

Within this view, occasionally the mob and the elite might join forces, briefly, and we might help with a story, such as Trent Lott and his big mouth. For the most part, though, we’re a bunch of editorialists without much concern for research, fact checking, or accuracy. That’s okay, though, because I didn’t start writing this to become yet another journalist-wanna be. Nor an elite. Nor part of a mob.

I’ve heard two common threads this last week: Weblogging is a whole new form of individual expression, without hinderance from editor or government; weblogging is a movement with power to report and shape the news. You can’t have it both ways — either we’re individuals with individual interests and independent thoughts and writing, in which case we’ll seldom have impact on the accuracy or direction of the news; or we’re a mass mind with too little independence to think outside the herd, but with enough power to stop war, throw out presidents, and change the course of history.

You can’t have it both ways. Either we’re different and unique and independent. Or we’re not, and weblogging is nothing more than a variation on an all too common societal theme.

Michael O’Connor Clarke wrote about journalism’s failure to cover the story of the deaths of thousands of Iraqi soldiers during our first battle with Iraq. Michael writes:

This suggests an urgent need to recruit and train an army of Iraqi bloggers, either here in the ‘Free West’ (*cough*), with strong connections to feet & eyes still resident in their homeland, or preferably right there in the thick of the horror.

We should arm them with satellite WiFi blogging tools and digital cameras to record and publish the unvarnished, un-CNNed truth.

 

What Michael forgets is that there would have been no witnesses because the people would be dead. In the starry eyed rush to show the glory of weblogging, and it’s full unleashed power via Google, he neglected to remember that the people were dead. Dead people don’t weblog.

We’ve long had the ability for people to “get the story out”. We have telephones and cameras, and if anyone had access to this at this battle, the story would have gotten out. But the only people who witnessed this act were those who died, and those who buried them. And the reason we know the story now is that some of those who did the burying are speaking out.

Who would have blogged this? Ghostly fingers from a grave?

Forget the pareto charts, and the Google and Blogger crap and focus on what this war is going to be like. We, the US and a few allies will invade without UN support. We’ll start with a barrage of missles and remote weapons, battering the Iraqi until we bring them to their bloody knees. Using this approach we can, hopefully, minimize the number of our troops lost. Though I agree with protecting our troops, this tactic is also the one most likely to maximize the deaths of civilians, as well as the destruction of services necessary to the survival of the people.

In retaliation, Saddam Hussein will blow up the oil wells, the dams, and the bridges. He’ll deny food and services for millions, effectively creating a human wall of misery around himself to protect himself from the invading army. However, even those within his protective sphere won’t be undamaged, because they’ll be the ones being bombed.

Saddam Hussein will also release whatever chemical and biological weapons exist, and he’s not going to care who gets exposed. His own people, his neighbors, Israel, our soldiers. For the first time in history, there will be one thing commonly shared by the peoples of the Middle East — exposure to weapons that should never have been invented. Excuse me if I don’t clap.

During this battle, the Iranians will most likely make inroads into Iraq, and the Kurds will begin the battle for control of the country, since they’ve already been told by the White House that they’ll not be allowed to run the country after Saddam Hussein is gone. We’ve promised Saudi Arabia and Turkey there will be no elections, no democracy. In addition, the Kurds will have been treated badly and if there’s one thing we know about the Middle East, the concept “an eye for an eye” is alive and well in that region.

In the midst of what promises to be one of our more vile wars, with human warring against human in our most inhumane ways, we’ll find our lone bloggers, bravely sitting at laptop with satellite phone, blogging the story so the truth will be told. I don’t think so.

We won’t need the bloggers to tell us the truth. We’ll see the millions — yes, millions — who are starving, the soldiers as they suffer the effects for years to come of the agents used against them. We’ll be able to smell the smoke of the oil fires for years into the future, and we’ll feel the effects the smoke will have on our weather.

There will be no mass grave large enough to bury those that die in this war we say we want to fight for the good of humanity.

I don’t want to rain on the parades of the enthusiasts. I don’t want to dampen the spirits and enthusiasm of those, such as TomJeneane, Michael, Joi Ito, and others, who think everything will be different if we all just weblog. I admire and cherish their joy and dreams based on our connectivity.

Additionally, I don’t want to rain on the “Poets against War” and the “Readings against War” and the “nudity against war”, and the other refined forms of protests. Any sincere protestation of war should be respected.

I remember the starry eyed enthusiasm of those who protested against the Vietnamese war years ago. I remember because I was one of those who protested, one who placed a flower into the barrel of a guardsman’s rifle, who linked arms, who painted peace signs and flowers on my face, who sang “Give peace a chance”. Thankfully, I was not one of those who said just vile things to the war shocked, exhausted veterans as they came home.

But I was one of those who thought it was these protests that stopped the war, only to realize as the years advanced, that it was those who were silent, the vast majority who did not march, who stopped the war. And they did so because they became tired of the body bags coming home.

The St. Louis area has over 400,000 people, and of those, probably only a tenth, if that, have a computer. Of those, a scant 300 or 400 weblog. It is those who don’t weblog, who will stop the war in this country. And, if I may presume on some cultural similarities, it is the same type of person who will stop the war in other countries.

Joi Ito sees weblogging as small groups of people formed around shared experience or interest. Within these groups, he sees a positive feedback loop that pushes a signal above the noise, identifying important information for other weblogging groups to pick up. The signal grows in strength as more groups link to it and the signal eventually, if important enough, gets picked up my those outside of weblogging. As an example, he points to the recent anti-warpro-war debates

This is a good explanation of what happens with some of our interests, such as the recent Google/Blogger merger. However, this tends to only happen when we sustain the signal for a significant period of time, as we did with the Blogger/Google merger, and as we did with Trent Lott. It’s not enough that we push an item into the charts — it’s that we hold it there sufficiently long enough to attract the interest of others.

Unfortunately, webloggers are nothing if not little birdies easily distracted by some bright shiny new toy just around the corner. Frequently, we indulge in cross weblogging circle conversations; rarely do we do so for any sustained length of time.

As for the aforementioned debate, the quality of it is no better, nor worse, than what one hears on the street, or in the next booth at the local restaurant. This isn’t to detract from those who took the time to participate in this debate. It is to say, in effect, what makes anyone think we’re so erudite in our debates that anyone other than webloggers would want to stop long enough to hear what we have to say?

Joi Ito also writes:

Many bloggers begin their weblogs to communicate with their strong tie peers. They will mostly link to and communicate within their small group.

 

Of the group I linked to when I first started, half are no longer weblogging, and most of the rest, I no longer link to because of changed interests. Of the people I linked to a year ago, several quit weblogging, some went in directions I couldn’t follow, and others, well, for one reason or another, we just stopped communicating. Of the people I link to now, they’ll stay on my blogroll regardless of their views because will no longer de-link another active weblogger. Even if they go in directions I can’t follow, I’ll still read their adventures along the way. How will my blood flow except by the push it gets when I read words that make it boil?

Will I my blogroll grow? Sure, but I’ll manage.

My point is that whatever weblogging circle we’re in at any point in time, it isn’t a fixed circle, and neither is it harmonious. The ‘best’ weblogging circles, if best is the correct word, is one in which the members don’t all agree. Otherwise, reading each others posts would be like looking at ourselves in the mirror all throughout the day — no matter how vain we are, we’re going to get bored eventually.

This means though that seldom will we all agree and when we do, seldom will we sustain that agreement. And because of this individuality, seldom will we push a signal above the general noise long enough to be heard by others. Our acts of individuality counter-act the formation of a mass-mind with enough power to effect change globally, though we may wreck chaos, at times, about ourselves locally.

I started weblogging because I wanted to write, and I wanted to share what I write in the hopes that others might like it, be moved by it, even grow from it. I’d like to think I could stop this war with it, but I can’t. And nothing Google can do with weblogging will change that.

What irony: by being an individual and writing on what I want, when I want it, and encouraging others to do the same, I’m trying my best to disrupt this push for a mass-minded power capable of possibly changing the very war I fight with all my breath.

You know what moved me today? poem, a songa bit of writing, a shared picturespoken words, a giggle, a new story. That’s what moved me today. They won’t move the world, but they moved me.

Categories
Writing

On writing

I know I said this once before, but it’s worth repeating:

 

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be writers.

 

Once you step over the line from being a writer who lives to write to being a writer who writes to live, you’ve entered Dante’s Eleventh Circle. The bad one. The one for writers that was too horrible even for Dante to describe.

(Remind me to tell you about seeing the exhibition of Botticelli’s Dante when I was in London a couple of years back. Extraordinary. Great trip. Even ate beef in spite of the fears. The Londoners make a lousy hamburger. )

In line with this philosophy that I’m imparting to you from long and painful experience, I thought I would re-publish one of my favorite old posts; one that somehow got lost when I re-arranged my sites and weblogs. Thanks to Larry in comments in Monica’s terrific “Editing my Brain” post, for reminding me of it.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you On Writing Professionally:

———————————————————————————–

There’s some form of mystic associated with writing professionally that, in some ways, I don’t understand.

It doesn’t exist with, say, web development — there are scores of web page designers and developers who would be appalled at having to do what they do as a hobby, as a job, day in and day out. In addition, there are those who garden, cook, drive, sew, and care for children who wouldn’t even consider doing the same for a buck.

But writing, well, writing professionally somehow imbues the written word with a higher degree of importance than the word that’s given freely. Even if the written word is included in the biggest jumble of disorganized crap that ever existed on any planet in the universe, and the freely given word is the epitomy of elegance, grace, and clarity.

Perhaps the reason for this mystic is that if one is paid for the word, one is somehow supposed to be more proficient with the use of the word. I write this word — apple — and I am not paid for it. Therefore, the value of –apple — is worth less then the word — Apple — as long as it is followed by OS X and I’ve convinced some editor somewhere that it is worthy of inclusion within their magazine, eZine, book, or other form of publication.

It is true that when one is paid for an act, one improves over time. Based on this we can conclude that when we pay for an action, we should be able to expect more from that action. This works for sex — why not writing?

The act of writing professionally. The publication process.

As an example of the publication process, take a look at the following sentence:

 

My recommendation would be that you flibit the gidbet and then flummer the dummer.

 

One publication prefers that writers not use the familiar, so can the professional writer remove all familiar references?

Okay, how’s this:

 

It is accepted practice to flibit the gidget and then flummer the dummer.

 

Another publication prefers the familiar form, and also prefers witty repartee with the reader. Can the professional writer please adjust accordingly?

Okay, how’s this:

 

My recommendation would be that you flibit the gidbet and then flummer the dummer, and you’ll be kicking ass at that point.

 

A third publication hastens to add that words such as “ass” might be offensive to some readers. Please edit this remark.

Okay. Is the following acceptable:

 

My recommendation would be that you flibit the gidbet and then flummer the dummer, and you’ll be much happier with the results.

 

There’s another publication. This one likes to have notes, sidebars, and annotations.

Okay. Then how the hell is this:

 

My recommendation (being aware that I have enormous experience with this) would be that you flibit the gidbet (see www.gidbet.com for more info) and then flummer the dummer, (see sidebar A1), and you’ll be happier with the results (happier: increased sense of well being).

 

Are these examples of writing somehow worth more than the unpaid version of the same, such as one could find at a weblog?

Weblog version:

 

To hell with the gidbet, who cares about the flummer, go get a beer, and screw it all until tomorrow.

I think not.

(Legal Disclaimer: The publications referred to in this document are entirely fictional. Any similarity to an existing publication is purely coincidental.)


Image from show at http://www.artnet.com/Magazine/reviews/karlins/karlins5-17-01.asp

Categories
RDF Writing

Ooo boy

I sent a note to the RDF Interest Group today, telling them about the draft of the book. I’ve already received some excellent feedback.

Some people climb mountains. Others scale rock cliffs, or dive the deepest depths of the ocean. Still others race cars at 180 MPH, ride bulls, or sail across the ocean in a dinghy.

Me? I write a book about a specification that’s the combined genius of several really scary-smart people, most of whom, if not all, are PhD’s, and then throw the rough draft into their midst, in it’s unpolished, unedited, defenseless nakedness.

I win.

Categories
Just Shelley Writing

Hiho it’s off to edit I go

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

I kept waking up last night with answers to the questions from yesterday’s interview popping into my head. The experience is comparable to a web bot being sent for information and returning two days later. Nice, but a little late.

I’m feeling more than a little tired today, so not much in the way of interesting or compelling reading for you, aside from a few notes about writing.

As much as I dislike to, I’m going to start running my weblog posts through Word for spell checking. The reason I’m so adverse to this is because one thing I’ve always liked about weblog writing is that I can relax a bit, and not worry about my usual problems of mixing words, dropping words, bad spelling, and totally screwing up all the subtle nuances of grammar. I can just write. It’s a very liberating experience.

However, this generates problems for people who quote me because they copy the words as they are, misspellings and all. That’s not particularly fair to them. Additionally, as one person was kind enough to mention in my comments not too long ago — one can easily drop the intelligence of a posting by just turning off spellchecker, a not so subtle reflection on my misspellings.

In addition to the spell checking, I’m considering using other more formal editing processes. For instance, when I write a book, the first draft is nothing more than a way for me to try and record my thoughts in a coherent manner, while I’m also figuring out how to create the examples, work the technology, and so on. The real writing doesn’t start until I start editing the work; smoothing it out, making sure it hangs together, flows well, and doesn’t leave topics abruptly. As Shrek would say, writing is like an onion, consisting of layers.

Some writers can put words down in perfect form the first go around. I can’t. However, I don’t normally apply the more formal writing process to my weblog posts, but I’m thinking of doing so. Unfortunately, this has a side effect of removing some of the spontaneity of the writing — that bit of me that leaks through in the words.

What I might do is continue with my usual haphazard style (except for spell checking) in my regular posts, and then save the formal process for postings that are longer, more complex. So, when I write about my cat, I’ll just write about my cat, and as long as cat is spelled c-a-t, don’t worry about the rest. But if I’m writing an essay about my anti-war views, take more time, and edit the material more carefully.

Ah, well.

In the meantime, if you like my little Talkback feature, there’s a web form you can use to lookup comments by URL or name. I have a question, though, for you: does the ability for someone to look up all your comments make you more aware of what you write, or do you comment as you always have?

Geodog made a good point about this in my posting on Talkback:

 

I’m with Ruzz and Dorothea. Stupid late night comments preserved for eternity? Let Stavrosthewonderchicken’s comments be highlighted. Maybe I should start posting as him?

In any case, I’m glad I use my online name. It isn’t hard to find my real name, but I would be even more self-conscious if the first thing that popped up when someone put my name into Google was a half assed comment on somebody’s weblog.

Or maybe that’s the idea? Discourage half-assed comments?

 

Does Talkback make you uncomfortable?

Categories
Just Shelley

Blew it

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

I didn’t want to say anything before hand but I had an interview with Anhueser-Busch today. It was a J2EE developer position, and the location was ten minutes from my house.

I met with the manager and four other people, and they started asking about EJB containers right off the bat. And I froze. I completely froze.

I couldn’t remember anything about Java, J2EE, design patterns, any of that. I know the stuff. Hell, I can sit here now and answer any one of the questions asked then. But in the room, where it mattered, I kept having to say “I don’t remember”.

I could answer the XML and the C# and the other questions, but I kept drawing a blank on the Java. I know Java, but I just couldn’t remember in the interview. Nothing. All of it became a blank.

It became so embarrassing, but the people were just so incredibly kind. And that made it worse, because I would have liked to work with them. I can’t stand this worrying about money. About paying bills.