Merlin Mann's 43 Folders
43 Folders by Merlin Mann For a baffling period in the 1970s, it was understood that every able-bodied American should be making home craft projects. Macramé plant hangers and latch-hook poodle rugs were more than an agreeable way to pass...43 Folders by Merlin Mann
For a baffling period in the 1970s, it was understood that every able-bodied American should be making home craft projects. Macramé plant hangers and latch-hook poodle rugs were more than an agreeable way to pass a sangria-soaked afternoon—they became part of an ineffable public imperative to create homemade crap. It was a strange time, and, from where I sat, it was an ugly zeitgeist.
It would be comforting to blame this wave of lumpen artistry on an unexpectedly strong jute crop or a conspiracy by the hated googly eye cartel, but the real answer is simpler than dime store string art: the supplies were cheap, the projects were easy, and the actual stuff was really fun to make. The trouble was that this enjoyment often ended at the moment the project was finished. In my family, for example, a lot of psychedelic yarn art and decoupage scenes of colonial America went straight from the Christmas tree to a shelf in the basement. They were just too awful. So, let's learn from this, shall we?
You're entering the world of personal publishing at a perilous time. While the tools for creating blogs are bountiful, cheap, and increasingly easy to use, there's nothing to stop you from making macramé on your site several times each day. You choose a template, pick a funny name for your blog, and then what? The desire to post often leads new bloggers to shovel loads of jokey memes, personality tests, and popular news links into their entries. While there's nothing wrong with recycling links—everyone does it—the real zest comes from sharing your perspective on what those link or memes mean to you. Your blog's visitors already know where to read Boing Boing, Glenn Reynolds, or Jason Kottke, so if you're linking to them, tell us why. I dare say these sites are each popular in large part because they introduce new links or frame ideas in a thought-provoking way. But they also each speak with a strong, clear voice. You for damn sure know a Dooce post when you read it, and that's a great thing.
You can choose to use your voice any way you please, but the really talented bloggers are using theirs to share snapshots of their lives or to provide peeks into the things that obsess them. This attracts readers—often because they share those obsessions, but just as frequently because they happen to love the way those bloggers express themselves. So, you can use your voice to relate hilarious tales of your co-workers' odiousness, or—well—you can use it to tell us which Backstreet Boy a given personality quiz claims you are. It's up to you.
This is not to say that you should parse all your post ideas through endless filters. But I do encourage you to bring something unique about yourself to the conversation whenever you can. Even if you and your kitty are the only ones who read your blog, you'd do well to regard each entry as a chance to say something new, entertaining, unusual, or funny about yourself and the world around you. Don't post crap.
I'm also a big believer in setting arbitrary rules as a way to encourage creativity. For example, when I started 43 Folders back in September, I set three rules:
- I only had to post for 30 days (at which point I could decide whether it was interesting enough for me to continue.
- I would only use stock TypePad tools for the design (to keep me from fiddling endlessly with the templates and style sheets).
- I would never apologize for not posting more (I mean, really: Who cares?)
These simple guidelines helped make my blog startup surprisingly easy and successful. Somebody famous—talking about the structure of poems if memory serves—once said, "Sometimes, you gotta go to jail to get free." I couldn't agree more. Famous people are so smart.
Another trick when you're starting out is to keep your blog private for the first few weeks that you're posting. Try it out for a while, and observe what kinds of patterns emerge. How often are you really posting stuff you love, and does that affect your approach? Do you really want to undertake yet another blog about CSS and web standards? Great. Then find your perspective and the voice that sets you apart. Discovering that you only want to talk about slasher movies? Perfect! Narrow your focus, and get excited about it. When you feel comfortable with your work and are ready to wow everyone, cut the cord and plop your new baby into the world. As a bonus, you get to hit the ground running with an existing stock of posts for your new readers to look at.
The trick, if there is one, is to zero in on the thing that really makes you want to share your stuff with the world, and then go with it. Photos of fire hydrants? Video clips of on-air profanity? Haiku about Regis Philbin? Awesome, awesome, awesome. Just, please, don't make macramé.
Remember that the "kit" is just there to get you started—that the ease of posting does not in any way parallel the sometimes painful act of creating. Your visitors crave a fresh voice that surprises them and makes them feel grand about the wonderful things people are making from that same basic set of tools. Give us a little of yourself, and leave that macramé in the basement.
