My purpose in blogging

That title sounds like I’m going to try and share something insightful with you, but the truth is that I haven’t the faintest idea what my purpose in blogging is anymore.

I feel like I’ve hit a breaking point with Twitter, but I’ve felt that off and on for over a year, so I won’t make any promises to swear it off. Even so, it’s absolutely been a distraction, and sometimes much worse—call it a depression amplifier, perhaps. Part of me wants to talk about politics, but part of me suspects it’ll just make me sad and angry. (And tie me up in knots.)

Obviously I haven’t been feeling the tech blogging call for a while, either. I still have thoughts; I’m still an Apple user. I like the iPad more after iOS 11, and I travel with it more than my laptop now—I’m writing on it at this very moment. I also still think that there are a myriad of little ways that it’s not as good for writing as a MacBook is, and that in the long run, if Apple wants to truly move the iPad from computing appliance to general-purpose computing platform they’ll have to open it up like, well, a general-purpose computing platform.

But so far I haven’t wanted to get into that, either.

I’m trying to force myself to “de-Twitter” for a while; it’s not easy. I thought maybe joining Micro.blog would encourage me to…well, what, exactly? People don’t use it quite the way they do Twitter, which is probably for the best. In some ways it feels more like an adult version of LiveJournal, albeit without all the wonderful granular access controls. It’s possible that if I stop checking my phone quite so obsessively for tweets, though—and my computer and my iPad and and and—I’ll start finding more to say that’s longer form again.

Micro.blog, LiveJournal and community

I’ve mused before on whether the world needs—for certain values of “need”—something like a modern LiveJournal: a social network that fills the space somewhere between tweets and blogs. On a recent episode of Originality, co-host K. Tempest Bradford noted that when she switched from LiveJournal to WordPress, she wrote less. LJ felt comfortable for posting any old thing, whereas WordPress made her feel like she had to be writing something “important.”

Sure, this is kind of arbitrary—you can post any old thing to WordPress, too. Blogs that feel most like communities have authors who post without much regard to either topic or perceived weightiness. (Bradford called out John Scalzi’s Whatever as one such place.) But I’ve felt that weight myself over the years, despite hosting the original Coyote Tracks on Tumblr.1 Twitter has the opposite problem; it’s optimized for ephemerality.

Micro.blog is, at first glance, much closer to Twitter than LiveJournal—it’s right there in the name! But appearances deceive; you can post any length post to Micro.blog. It uses a simple algorithm for determining how to display that post on your timeline:

  • If the post has a title, regardless of length, then it displays the post’s title and a link to its URL. (That’s what you’re seeing on this post.)
  • If the post has no title and it’s under 280 characters, it displays the entire post.
  • If the post has no title and it’s over 280 characters, it displays a truncated version of the post with a link, like “Tweet Longer” services do for Twitter.

Simple, but clever.

There are things I loved about LiveJournal that Micro.blog doesn’t handle relating to engagement and privacy. Most notably, there should be a way to block webmentions from people you don’t want to engage with. (That needs to happen on the protocol level, not as something specific to Micro.blog.) But what I’m seeing on Micro.blog that I didn’t predict is sustained, thoughtful conversation, of the sort that I remember from LJ comments. I’ve seen it in blog comments, yes, particularly in the science fiction community. I have some blind faith that if I went back far enough in my Twitter archives it would be there, too. But I genuinely don’t remember it to the same degree. I haven’t found it in Mastodon yet, either.2

So what about Micro.blog encourages that? I’ve already talked about technical differences between it and the other services. Philosophically, Micro.blog is heavily focused on “owning” your content. But I don’t think it’s either of those, exactly. Instead, Micro.blog has attracted an initial community of people who want a “nicer” alternative to Twitter to take off. What separates them from the Mastodon community, who presumably want the same thing? A couple thoughts. First, nearly all Micro.blog patrons have paid for it, either through the initial Kickstarter or through ponying up for monthly service fees (or both). Also, there’s the very different UX decisions I talked about in my previous post. If you want someone to know that you liked what they posted on Micro.blog, you have to reply to do it, not just tap the favorite button. And, so far, civility has bred civility. I’ve seen conversational topics that would have immediately gone flameward on Twitter stay cool and collected over day-long threads on Micro.blog.

I’ve been thinking about my own blogging lately. I suspect if I’m going to blog more, I need to give myself permission to blog about, well, less consequential things. I don’t want to dive into the dreadfully personal topics that LiveJournal’s privacy controls allow (hi, future prospective employer trolling through this unprotectable posting). But I have to stop thinking about this as if it were a technology column that I need to post perfectly-crafted articles on.

In theory, Coyote Tracks is set up to allow those title-free “status” posts (or, as LiveJournal would have had it, “(No subject)”). If I start doing those with any regularity, I’ll set up the RSS feeds to let you be more selective in what you get. (Right now you can get feeds for just “tech” and just “writing” posts, as well as the everything RSS feed. If I start making status posts regularly, I’ll add an RSS feed that excludes those.)


  1. By the way, if you’re reading this on Tumblr or the Tumblr RSS feed (tracks.ranea.org), you should probably switch over to coyotetracks.org if you can. In part this is because I can’t guarantee how long I’ll keep crossposting, and in part this is because I can’t guarantee that the now Verizon-owned, founder-less Tumblr will continue being hospitable. 
  2. I suspect this is not a universal experience on Mastodon, but compared to Micro.blog—and even Twitter—it has notably more “shouting into the void” to it for me. 

The unbearable glibness of tweeting

I still love Twitter. A lot of us still love Twitter. But it’s past time to admit it’s an abusive relationship. (“Yes, he hits me sometimes, but it’s only for the retweets.”)

The common wisdom is that the Big Blue Bird’s problem is their lack of moderation, that the service is Exhibit A in the case against Silicon Valley’s belief that you can solve everything with algorithms. I think that’s some of it, but I don’t think it’s all of it. When your software becomes global community infrastructure, the choices reflected in your design have profound effects on behavior. It’s a choice, for instance, to offer no privacy controls other than “protecting” your account. That one choice alone is a large part of why Twitter is so hospitable to harassers: your only option for controlling who engages with you is flipping your entire feed between open and locked down, and—given that anyone you follow can inject anything into your timeline via retweet—aggressively curating not just who you follow, but who you allow retweets from.

Here are some other choices Twitter’s made. “Favorites” are public accolades, not private bookmarks. Mechanisms for retweets and quote tweets are baked in. Official clients stream notifications about not just who favorited and retweeted you, but who favorited and retweeted your retweets. And let’s not even get into who gets verified and what verification offers. None of these choices are necessarily wrong in either a technical or moral sense. But they’ve created a culture that rewards painting everything in the starkest, loudest terms possible.

There’s a metric crapton of political tweets across the partisan spectrum that I could point to, but as I was writing this piece, a bag of “Lady Doritos” dropped into my lap.

PepsiCo CEO Indra Nooyi gave an interview to the Freakonomics podcast in which she observed that women ate Doritos differently than men did (“they don’t like to crunch too loudly in public”) and said the company was getting ready to launch “snacks for women that can be designed and packaged differently.” The Sun, a UK tabloid, reported this as “Doritos to launch crisps for WOMEN because they don’t like crunching loudly or licking their fingers, boss reveals.” This led to a veritable tortillanado of hot take tweets about snack food sexism.

But wait! Then came the New York Times reporting “Not a Real Thing, Company New Says,” which quoted PepsiCo’s gently acerbic retort, “We already have Doritos for women. They’re called Doritos.” Snap! Fake news! Well, yes and no. The quotes from Ms. Nooyi in the last paragraph are true; Frito-Lay is working on “snacks for women,” whatever the hell that may mean. The fake news part—in the sense that the Sun came up with it, not Nooyi—was the existence of “Lady Doritos.” Gosh, what an outrage-inducing, easily hashtaggable name they invented! Surely that couldn’t have been their intent. Ha. Ha ha. As of this writing, we’re 48 hours into Chipghazi, and the Twitter trends are just starting to ebb.

And this is a problem inherent in Twitter’s design that may not be solvable. Even if Twitter engineers could just go into the database and type DELETE FROM users WHERE is_nazi = 1, the software’s literally designed to reward superficial hot takes. It’s optimized for tweets that make you go “yeah, get those fuckers!” rather than tweets that make you go “hmm.”

When was the last time you scrolled through your Twitter timeline and felt smarter, happier, and generally more at peace with the world?

Mastodon and Micro.blog both propose that the solution to Twitter’s ills is decentralization. Mastodon has multiple “instances,” like Twitter servers, that each have their own rules and community guidelines. Because all the instances can interact with one another, you can follow any Mastodon user, not just the ones on your instance. Micro.blog is, if anything, more radical: a set of open standards that let good old fashioned weblogs interact with one another in Twitter-esque fashion. You can use it just like Twitter, but under the hood it’s using an RSS-like system to build your timeline. They can host your own (paid) micro.blog, which is a full-featured Jekyll install under the hood, but you could host your own blog wherever and on whatever software you want.

So far, these solutions are working, but I’m worried that—particularly in Mastodon’s case—it’s not because they’ve chosen a more resilient design, it’s simply because the community is so much smaller. There’s less social reward for turning the volume on everything up to 11 when the audience is tiny. But Mastodon makes many of the same choices Twitter has, including favorites, quotes (“embeds”), and retweets (“boosts”), then stirs in the questionable belief that moderation issues are effectively moot under their federated server model.

Micro.blog deliberately has no retweet mechanism. Favorites are just private bookmarks. As far as I can tell you can’t even get a list of followers. Unlike Mastodon, Micro.blog shows replies people make to people you aren’t following, the way Twitter did in its first couple of years. All this adds up to a surprisingly friendly, conversational timeline. (Also, Micro.blog’s first hire has been a community manager, which says a lot about their philosophy here.) But as I alluded above, if you want to use it just like Twitter—i.e., no work on your part—you need to pay them to host your blog. They’re looking at it as a turnkey blog hosting service, but if it’s perceived as “like Twitter but with less features for $5 a month,” that’s a problem.

Yet both Micro.blog and Mastodon are just…nicer. I think Micro.blog is the better of the two, in no small part for the UX choices they’ve made that are explicitly the opposite of both Twitter and Mastodon, but Mastodon’s free nature gives it the potential to grow further. Either way, though, both of them have one huge advantage: they’ve seen the shitshow that’s turned Twitter into a Dead Bird Walking, and they can say, “You know what? Let’s not do that.”