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It’s a list. It’s about me. It’s about telling the world how to deal with me. How could I not link to this?
Best video. Best song. Best Band. Ever.

My knowledge of traditional print techniques to make reading easy and smooth is fairly limited; I am a fairly modern-age book reader. So when I come across typographical elements such as footnotes and side-notes, I think about how it might enhance the presentation of writing on the web—particularly for Shorts.
I had experimented with both side-notes and footnotes on my old (now defunct) blog, but I forgot about them when I moved over to writing here, partly because one of my intentions for Shorts was to not write long pieces that might need such elements. But as this has become my writing hub of choice, I decided to slowly port the various fancy things that I had implemented in my old blog. Paragraph level links were the first, and now side-notes are here too. But the trouble with having all these ways to present is deciding when to use what1.
See: House-keeping.
The initial tendency is to just wing it—use whatever looks right at that point. But that can slowly become annoying if the reader doesn’t understand why the writer chose to present something as a side-note while another thing as a footnote. After all, these tufts are there for a reason, and shouldn’t be used unless you have a reason to. I want to set rules for myself, so that I stay honest in their use and readers understand them as well.

Footnotes (or endnotes) are just that, additional text related to the context (the context being where they are linked from). They will mostly be digressions or minor additions to the topic at hand, but can also be anything I wanted to say without breaking the rhythm or subject of the paragraph. The consistent thing will be that they will be more than a line or two long. Footnotes can be safely read after reading the main piece, i.e. they will not be vital to its understanding, but they will enhance their context with extra commentary if you choose to read them.
Sidenotes will be extra or related reading for the paragraph (or line) they are against which have titles or contextual text that are too long to be linked inline. Something in the linked article will be talked about in that paragraph—whether as a reference or a summary—and having that background knowledge will help understand it better. They will mostly have a “See:” or a “Related:” prefixed to them, so that’s what they will be. These are slightly iffy, but their use will become clear when you see them.
There is a possibility that I might have something to say about a link in a side-note but I rather not break the flow of my piece, in which case we reach the slightly convoluted situation of a footnote to a side-note. There won’t be too many of those; I usually try to keep digressions to a minimum when I write.
If you’ve ever swapped the word “and” for an ampersand because it looked better, you will probably understand what I am talking about. I understand that content always comes first—you cannot design for bad content—but if a designer can design for content, a creator can also create content that reinforces the design2.
It’s easier to decide the layout and design the elements for books because the content doesn’t change. On the web—and especially for blogs—we have “templates”, which might be weak or strong guidelines for how to write. I would take Dustin Curtis’ blog/site as an example of a weak template. Look at his posts, and you’ll see that there is really nothing fixed about the layout except for the constant bottom area which sort of anchors it down. What I have here on the other hand would be an example of a moderately strong template. My design is chromophobic, the layout is very rigid as far as the arrangement of text goes, and using too many non-paragraphic elements (bullet lists, etc.) makes it look unpleasant. I have to occasionally re-write certain bits of my essays so that they fit in with everything else around them. So when something doesn’t look right however I put it, I have to come with a whole new way of showing them, and the solution is usually buried in print media typographical elements.
You would think designing the layout of text would come naturally to interface/interaction designers since that’s what it essentially is—making text easy to interact with, which in this case is limited to reading it, but a decent amount of experimentation goes behind it when you haven’t studied it like a subject for an arts course and you’re working purely off of experience. At the end of the day, however, if there is something I can add or change that might improve it while adding that extra element of attractiveness, I say it’s worth the time.
There’s also the issue of how they show up in feed readers without the CSS to style them properly. I’ve written about it before. Frankly, you should be clicking through to read a piece in its native habitat if you know it’s well designed. Adding to their page views (and ad-views, if they have any) is always nice—kind of like your anonymous stamp of approval. ↩
I couldn’t come up with a better way of forming that sentence. And I do expect to get a rap on the knuckles from both designers and writers for saying that, but I do believe that both sides are accountable for the final impact of a presentation and it’s not just one side that bears the brunt. ↩

Seymour: An Introduction, J.D. Salinger.
~ Via Austin Kleon.
I’ve already opted-in to the transfer. Delicious for me is basically a collection of everything I’m linked to on Twitter. I don’t put any important bookmark on there—they get linked to from here, go to Instapaper if they’re articles, or get saved to Pinboard.
But the offending paragraph seems to be § 11, ¶ 1:
You agree not to do any of the following: post, upload, publish, submit or transmit any Content that: (…) violates, or encourages any conduct that would violate, any applicable law or regulation or would give rise to civil liability; (iii) is fraudulent, false, misleading or deceptive; (iv) is defamatory, obscene, pornographic, vulgar or offensive (…)
That fourth point is pretty vague about what it means by “defamatory” and “offensive”. The Hacker News thread about the article has some nice input as well. Nevertheless, it doesn’t affect me—and most probably you—too much either way. But it is something to keep in mind (and maybe consider moving to Pinboard if you aren’t comfortable with this change).
Christian Ross:
Sticking with dress shirts, when wearing a jacket (suit or blazer) I want to see about 1/2-inch of shirt sleeve past the end of your jacket sleeve. I try to keep mine in that 1/2-inch range but I do know it often sits slight shorter/longer. I have a couple of shirts where I’ve even gone as far as safety pinning up under the sleeve to keep them from being so long. Too much shirt sleeve showing though makes me think you have a jacket that’s too small and too little showing makes me think your arms are too short.
and
You should find the right fit for all of your clothes but it’s especially important when buying and wearing a suit. I applaud any man making an honest attempt to clean up and wear a suit, I just want to help us all remember that our suits from junior high are probably not the perfect answer anymore. Inversely, people can usually tell if you’re wearing your dad’s suit as well. Put it on, look in the mirror and wait for that feeling that you know you nailed it. If it doesn’t happen, adjust.
I take my appearance and the clothes I wear semi-seriously, and these are good rules to follow when you’re unsure. Maybe I’ll write about dressing right one of these days.

I think there was a disconnect in the aspects of Book Country that caught Tim’s attention and ones that caught mine. Tim saw it as a medium allowing writers to self-publish; I saw it as an an easy peer-review system. It is both those things, but I think it’ll be used more as one than the other.
Looking at the Book Country’s format, it looks tailor made to make discovery of smaller and less well-known writers possible. Of course, big-name writers will not use it, they have their review system already established. But the Book Country is essentially a crowd-sourced peer-review system. At least that’s my understanding of it. And one can choose not to publish a book through it—using it only to get reviews from volunteers to fix their manuscripts—if they think they will get a better deal somewhere else.

Blogs and e-book stores like iBooks, Kindle, Nook etc. aren’t too helpful because they have that discovery problem which the Book Country is trying to fix. Blogs have an inherent problem with discovery unless you go around calling attention to them, and as a budding writer, one really should be focusing on the writing instead of things like that. Similarly, e-book stores are for established writers and completed books. One doesn’t go to a store to read and review unfinished material, even if you give them out for free.
I have never written a book. I did plan to write one at one point of time, but getting a hint of the amount of work and level of commitment it would take, I stopped before I really got started. As a potential writer, something like the Book Country sounds appealing to me as a source for objective criticism over getting my manuscript checked by friends and family if someday I do start writing that book again. And objectivity in subjective things is always good to have.
~ This is a response to Tim Ricchuiti’s piece responding to my question regarding his comment.

… will that cheap pen ever become imbibed with your character? Will you form a bond with it that is unique to you? Will you know it’s quirks as well as it knows yours? Will it, because of these things, remain with you for a length of time and to the extent that if ever parted from your grasp it will feel as if losing a limb? Will the nib shape to your style? Will your grasp shape to the barrel? Will such a pen ever become a part of you?
My father had (he might still have it, I haven’t seen it in a while) a beautiful black fountain pen that I’ve always seen on him as far back as I can remember. It was a beautiful pen, and a gem to write with. It took a lot of will power not to fall in love with it because it was his.
I grew attached to a carrot coloured Pierre Cardin roller-ball back in the ninth grade. But as pens and kids go, the pen lasted a whole two weeks before I lost it. I still remember how bad I felt.
I think getting attached to pens (and stationery in general) is just something you’re born with. You can’t develop or learn that emotion with age or experience. Either you have it or you don’t. And it’s a beautiful thing if you do.
On Good Taste, Ira Glass.
~ Via Austin Kleon & Kottke.
It’s natural to construct shiny, polished windows into our lives, to cover the cracks and caulk up the faults. And we’ve truly entertained and impressed one another, I’m sure. But at some point, the appeal of that smiling veneer starts to cheapen. The quippy sunshine, the meticulous personal branding, the glowing breakfast reviews—they have to be balanced with something real and substantial.
—Adam W. King
Running in at 22 A4 size sheets (as calculated by someone), this really is a very long joke. But it’s a very well imagined joke, like a story you can’t put down because you must know what happens next.
And it all starts with a man crawling through the desert.
~ Via Neven Mrgan

If you’re like me, you probably have tabs that stay open for days (even weeks) on end, waiting to be read and closed. Unfortunately, in case you liked what was on that page, two weeks later you don’t remember how you actually got there.
So I decided to write a bookmarklet that shows you that. Kind of. It’s a rather non-fancy script that tries to determine the context based on the three ways (that I could think of) you might have reached a page:
Clicking a link in an app which is not your browser. This is the ugliest case, because the browser has absolutely no knowledge of the context. The OS does, I’m sure, but it doesn’t tell the browser—or at least, I don’t think it does.
Opening a new tab and typing in the URL. There’s no need to handle this case—you know how you got there. This and the previous case are handled the same way, with a shrug of the shoulders and a shake of the head.
Clicking a link on some other page. This is the case this bookmarklet tries to make sense of. It does two things: First check if you got to your page from a Google search. If you did, it gives you a link to perform that search again. Since most people don’t go beyond the first page of results, this will pretty much serve everybody.
If you didn’t get to your page from a Google search, it looks up the URL you did come from, and gives you the title of the page along with a link back.
Drag the Where From? bookmarklet to your bookmarks bar. You can click it and see how you reached this page, to try it out.
It seems to work well in Chrome and Firefox, but if you run into errors, leave a comment on the gist and I’ll have a look.
n.b. Using “Open In New Tab” from the context menu clears the document.referrer in Chrome 11, but not in Firefox. Using Cmd+click to open links in a new tab keeps the referrer intact. According to this ticket, it should be fixed in Chrome 12.


I’ve had a stammering problem for as long as I can remember. It’s a very selective stammer—surfacing only when I try to say certain words, and that too only in certain circumstances—but it’s enough to play on my mind whenever I talk to groups of people1.
Usually one wouldn’t be comfortable writing about such a thing unless it was glaringly obvious, at which point it wouldn’t matter. But writing about things like this goes with the territory—I write what I think about, and this is one of the things I think about.
I’ve lived with this for close to 14 years, and I’ve tried to figure out what sets it off the hardest as a part of self-therapy in controlling and reducing it. The usual suspects are always there—anxiety, emotional state, et al.—but there are some specific triggers that seem to stay constant regardless of the situation.
Through various experiments, I’ve concluded that words starting with the sounds 'bə, 'pə and 'tə are the hardest for me say unless I’m already in a flow, i.e. not starting to talk again after a pause. So if I’m supposed to start a new sentence with a word like, e.g. bubble, I would get stuck unless I compose myself and try to say it with a little concentration. Of course, depending on the situation, words like “because” or “private” can be equally hard to say.
This might come as a surprise to many people who have spoken to me or heard me talk in person over the years—I would think even my parents to a degree. It’s like one of those things you probably won’t notice unless you are looking for it. I guess people who read this and know me in real life will have it at the back of their mind whenever they meet me from now on.
Though I must say that my condition is a lot better than a lot of other people who are suffering—in every sense of the word—from stammering. Mine is barely noticeable owing to the fact that I speak so less (whether speaking less is a cause or result of my stammering, I will leave it to you to speculate), and partly because I’ve worked on it for the past four to five years, trying to reduce its severity. It used to be so bad that I wouldn’t be able to say even my name properly (which I can’t, sometimes, even now).
My mother tells me that my tendency to talk has grown inversely with age. I.e. I used to talk a lot as a child, and now I barely do. It’s funny though; I don’t remember stammering as a child, but I do now. One of the great ironies of life. It’s funny enough to make me smile—sometimes.
To be honest, it’s groups that make me uncomfortable, not individual people. Nothing gets a crowd going like realising that they’re a crowd. Talking to one person is a lot more intimate and I find it much easier to talk to a single person or very small groups of people; small enough that I can look them in the eye when I say something. ↩
