ideablog

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Tumblelogs

Anarchaia: A tumblelog by Christian Neukirchen

Tumblelogs are loosely structured blogs that don't date or title every post like many blogging tools require. It retrieves the old style of weblogs that, because of the difficulty of publishing, didn't always adhere to a structured format. These blogs are often just lists of links, or short paragraphs with embedded links.

This is a very appealing format for recording the things one comes across during their day with no real requirements for coherence or completeness. Removing the date and title allows content to build over time and de-emphasizes how "stale" the site may be. One can "refresh" the look of the page simply by updating the date, and adding a link or two. Archiving posts by month is a simple way to limit page size.

A tumblelog has a time element for sure, and the currency of links and commentary is important for the reader. By paying attention to new content (news, newly published links) the author connects to the audience through a common context. Otherwise, posts may often seem irrelevant to readers.

In addition to the temporal context, authors can use themes, categories, or their personal voice to connect to readers. These elements provide the context necessary for readers to know what to expect when opening the page. A good URL helps to provide context to new visitors, and encourages linking and bookmarking if the URL and blog title captures the essence of the blog. This point raises the question whether having a unique and esoteric name might create a barrier to new users. In the best cases (FlickR, del.icio.us, Google) the name becomes synonymous with the product and new users are highly motivated to learn what it means.

Whether the term "tumblelog" will catch on is unknown, but the format it defines is certainly important. It encourages blogs to have well-defined themes if published as more than just as a personal site.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Email Groups as Communities

I'm noticing interesting effects as my email connections grow. I have to admit, until recently I only regularly communicated with one group of friends with any regularity over email, that group being my far-flung high school friends. Being separated physically from those people forced me to use email, or face losing touch with them completely. At first it seemed like a silly time-waster, but the benefits were huge from the beginning, ultimately allowing me to maintain some degree of connection with people I only see once every year or two.

And as email becomes more accepted, I've floated in and out of other group email threads. My hockey team uses reply-all email to do head counts, and get pumped before games. Or more accurately, they would, if they weren't all so timid. I've noticed very real effects in how people "act" over group email, depending on the membership. Replying to all requires a certain amount of touch, to say something that everyone will hear. It's like standing up in the dressing room in your jock-strap and cracking a joke. Emailing takes balls.

Because of course it's not exactly like speaking in public; it's more permanent than that. And emailing is seen as something that takes a fair amount of effort, so you imply that whatever it is you're saying matters _that_ much to you (however that much is).

So you wouldn't think of replying all to make a fart joke, unless you don't mind being the clown for a moment. And knowing how someone will interpret your words is a tricky proposition as well; you can't judge if someone doesn't reply if it was because they laughed, sneered, or rolled their eyes.

So in all of my groups, the majority don't email with any frequency. It would be interesting to know how many groups each of these guys belong to. It wouldn't surprise me to find out they email with far greater frequency to a group with entirely different dynamics. And as these types of groups become more prevalent (and I believe they will) these dynamics will become more apparent, and less restrained by the "strangeness" of it all. And strange it is, indeed.