Charlie Arehart send me an email the other day about my Flex charting control and the way it's presented on the site (which is poorly). I ended up writing a fairly long response that was a bit tangential, but unreasonably so. The basic premise was that it's my site, and I don't like maintaining web sites, so I do it as little as possible. For example, I'd never bothered to actually put an email address on my About page.
But that expands out to cover some other bases as well. For example, I actually release a fair amount of code, and I have a enormous amount of non-released code that I could release. But you'll notice that I don't have a single software product that I maintain. Contrast this with Ray Camden. I don't claim that I produce the quantity of code that he does, but he produces products, not just code.
Productizing a software product is a huge amount of work, and maintaining that product only adds more. I have little to no interest in dedicating my personal time to that. Even just prepping code to release it takes a lot of work, in my view. If I'm excited about something, I want to share it and get other people excited about it too, just like anyone else. But the ROI is minimal, since I'm not trying to build any sort of brand or create an income stream. Which isn't to say I don't have personal brand, just I don't cultivate it the way a business(wo)?man or consultant would.
So I'm curious. Do people use the software I release? Comment if you do, and list what you use. I'm just wondering, because the code is rarely polished, it's not formally versioned, rarely has standalone docs (and often very minimal inline docs), and there is no promise of backwards compatibility or long term support. Is that a deterrent sufficient to turn away people who's problems my code might directly address? Should it be?
I know I'm apt to discount software packages that aren't actively maintained, but I'm far less likely to discount something if it's source. Sure, I like to have someone else do the work, but if I find something that addresses a need I have, I'm going to use it if at all possible. I'm quite lazy that way.
Then there are the blog posts themselves. I go very back-and-forth on blogging. I enjoy writing, but the blog is a weird medium. In one sense, you're writing to nobody, but you're also writing to the readership you're aware of. But that's never your complete readership. And unlike most other forms of communication, you have rather little feedback on a blog. Sure, people comment, but what percentage? Contrast that with a document you write for responding to an RFP, an email you write to someone, or even an IM conversation.
As such, I dislike writing posts that don't have a clear point (like this one). It leaves me feeling like I'm not done yet, and that I wasted every reader's time. But at the same time, any sort of pointed discourse leaves me this wondering how I did. Did I get my point across? Was I confusing? Without a specific audience and direct feedback, those questions are very hard to answer.
So why do I write on my blog? Usually to share something I'm excited (or frustrated) with. Hoping that someone else will read it and be excited too. But it's always technical, because I know that most of the readers are techies, and have this weird feeling like I have to appease my perceived audience or a Bad Thing will happen. But I want more than that. I want to have a conversation. To yell. To ramble on. To share the love of something. I want to turn comments off so I don't have to listen to people. I want to force every reader to comment. I want to start an interesting philosophical discussion that persists forever.
I've considered dedicating a period each day to writing. About whatever. But I know that would leave me less satisfied, because it'd become a chore, and I wouldn't end up writing about the stuff that really blows my skirt up (no, I don't typically wear a skirt - makes for cold … legs … on the motorcycle).
What's the solution? Someone knows. Tell me. Please.
