On a couple of instances, most recently on his thousandth blog post, Jordan has brought up some advice that I gave him when he was starting his blog: that you should have low standards. Jordan phrased that advice more articulately than I did at the time, I’m sure:
What he meant: to blog you have to be willing to to write things that are inarticulate, or not fully-thought-through, or which still have pieces missing; otherwise blog entries (like some math papers!) end up languishing, invisible and unfinished, forever.
The funny thing is that I don’t actually remember giving this advice, and if one were to ask me today what the secret is to writing a blog that sticks around for a while, that probably isn’t the first thing that would come to my mind! Though I do still think that low standards are a good idea: the fact that Jordan’s blog has been going on for almost six years and has over a thousand posts gives anecdotal empirical support for that claim (not that Jordan’s blog isn’t wonderful, but if he has found the advice useful, I’m not going to argue with him), and this very post is evidence that my own standards continue to remain low.
Still, if that isn’t the first answer that I would give, what answer would I give? First, I will freely admit: there is absolutely no reason why anybody should want a blog like mine. This blog is extremely self-absorbed and doesn’t have particularly high readership (high in volume, that is, my readership is wonderfully high in quality), it really exists largely to get ideas out of my head so I can start thinking about something else. But if you, too, are in the situation of wanting to get ideas out of your head and onto a blog, then this is my best guess as to what has been helpful in allowing me to continue to do that:
Develop at least one trigger that will cause you to write a blog post.
For me, the trigger is: every time I finish a video game that isn’t a short flash game, I write a blog post about it. I don’t write the blog post before I start the next game—I frequently need a little bit of time to come to terms with the game, and I usually start playing my next game while that happens—but I definitely avoid starting a new game if I have two games that I’ve finished that I haven’t blogged about. Games aren’t, of course, the only thing I blog about, but they serve a useful role by regularly leading to content here.
From a queuing theory / networking theory point of view, this is a backpressure mechanism, and it leads to:
Don’t let too many blog posts be floating around in your head at once.
There are usually two or three topics that I’m thinking about writing a blog post about: maybe something about a specific game, maybe something more general about games, maybe something about work (related to organization or programming), maybe something about how I run my own life, maybe something a little more random. (Once I’ve gotten this post finished, my list will consist of “Blog re aspiration in games” and “Blog re Grow Maze“.) Two blog posts that I’m thinking about is a good number, and three or even four is perfectly fine; but, for me, five is a bad number. So if the list gets too long, then I’ll write a blog post during the next evening when I have enough energy to write.
Don’t let a blog post float around in your head for too long.
If you have an idea for a blog post, then write that blog post. Not that day, not even necessarily that week, but that month. The longer blog posts sit in your head, the farther you get from the initial spark that motivated it: for me, at any rate, letting ideas bake will start hurting more than it helps after a couple of weeks, sometimes sooner. And even if a blog post never bakes fully, I find that I far prefer writing it in a half-baked form than either waiting indefinitely for it to bake or pretending that I’ve forgotten about it and moving on to other things. (When I do the latter, I find that my brain generally doesn’t move on to other things, with the result that I don’t blog at all until I’ve gotten that half-baked post out.)
Always have at least one blog post floating around in your head.
This is one of the harder rules here: what are you supposed to do if you don’t have anything to write about? And it’s true: I can’t just sit down at a computer and force inspiration upon myself. But what I’ve gotten a lot better at over the years is noticing when something about an idea catches my brain’s fancy: if that happens, onto the list it goes. (I actually do keep a real list, but a mental list is okay, too, as long as you keep it short and drain it regularly; I don’t usually write down details on my list, just topics, though I have a notebook for writing drafts on the extremely rare occasions when I feel that would be useful.) And then my brain will chip at it a little bit in the background, and I’ll be able to produce a blog post on it at some point soon.
Try to write at least one blog post a week.
This isn’t a hard-and-fast rule: if a week goes buy when I’m just too busy or nothing has quite come together, it’s not the end of the world. But if a week has gone by without me writing a blog post, it is at least a sign that I should ask myself what’s going on. Am I just too busy or too tired? Am I not listening enough to the ideas that are in my head? Am I letting a half-baked blog post block me? (It’s usually that last one.)
This recommendation is different from trying to keep on a regular schedule: some people recommend that, but I personally do not. Instead, it’s a diagnostic tool to detect inappropriate blockages and keep things moving.
Rereading the above, I’m coming too understand why Jordan went out of his way to point out the importance of low standards, because that’s really a prerequisite for all of those suggestions. Without low standards, it’s hard to develop a trigger for regularly writing about a topic: there are tons of games that I had nothing interesting to say about, but I wrote about them anyways because that’s what I do, and by doing that I improved my ability to occasionally find something interesting to say. Without low standards, more and more blog posts will float around in your head, because you won’t let enough of them escape. Without low standards, a blog post will float in your head for too long, because you’ll want to polish it too much or not accept that you’re unlikely to be able to polish it well. Without low standards, you’ll find yourself without any ideas floating around in your head, because you won’t pay attention to ideas that strike your fancy but that you don’t feel like you really have anything special to say about. And without low standards, you definitely won’t write at least one blog post a week, because I can guarantee that you have weeks where there’s nothing that you think of that you’re proud of.
With low standards, though, you just might find yourself looking back at your blog five or ten years later, a thousand posts later, and being glad that you’ve taken that journey.
Post Revisions:
This post has not been revised since publication.
I’m really conflicted about this. I used to write prolifically on my blog, sometimes upward of 4,000+ words a week, but have slimmed that down considerably since being invited to write on other sites at the beginning of last year. What I would have written on my own blog became what I posted elsewhere.
However, I’m not really doing that anymore either. (Well, except for on Gamasutra. I’m in the middle of mutli-part guide on Inform 7 there.) And… I’m highly adverse to writing about my own life. It’s exceeding rare that I post about my life outside of my thoughts on a game or some bit of code.
And writing about video games… well, I’ve increasingly started to look at the scene as something I might want to take some time away from until I’m in a stable fiscal place again. Unless you get preview copies as part of a job or have some level of disposable income to buy games as they come out, it’s frustrating to spend time on writing covering an older game — with 6 months being “old” sometimes — few people will look at or even care about.
Which is all my roundabout way of writing that I think I need to start following the “low standards” idea. There’s this, I don’t know… impulse? I’ve felt quite clearly the past few years (I’ve been blogging since 2008) to always have the most interesting posts, the most original ideas. In order to be noticed (and thus have conversations), I’ve always felt I needed to be staking out some new theoretical area or planting a flag on some unknown mental landscape.
I’m not entirely sure how much of that is imagined or just the influence of being around professors, graduate, and even some PhD students the last couple of years who have to constantly be posting new articles, writing papers, or giving presentations. Academia, as I’m sure you know far better than me, has that paradoxical drive to both write about something new, but to also do it in a way that highlights all the old too. And, of course, to be innovative at the same time too.
Just sitting down and writing a post, without worrying about if anyone else will see it or even think it “good,” is something I need to work on again. I seem to have really gotten away from that.
3/20/2013 @ 6:51 am
Yay low standards!
As I’m sure you’re aware, I think this focus on new games is toxic for me personally and probably toxic for the discussion of games more broadly. And it’s so overdone that, if you’re drawn to staking out new ground, I bet you’d do better looking at older games – especially returning to one repeatedly, but hopefully also drawing in what other people have said. I would like to think that I’ve done something of value by writing about Rock Band over and over through the years, for example.
3/20/2013 @ 8:37 pm
And just after writing the above, I came across this great post revisiting an old game in my feed reader: http://www.mcgreene.org/?p=201
3/20/2013 @ 8:49 pm
I was going to say this over Twitter because it’s intended to be a quick “thank you”, more than anything, but then I realised that no, commenting would be better because no one does that anymore and Twitter/the wider conversation(s) as a whole are too disposable these days for things like this. So have a long-winded, ramble of a comment instead. :)
Put simply, I’m grateful to you for writing this post. Obviously I read your posts (across all the avenues you use) because of our shared gaming interests, but it is posts like these that have ensured that I continue to read your writing year-in, year-out. You’re older than me, as you are probably aware, and as such have a mental awareness of things that I clearly don’t, and that constantly frames my own perspectives — as someone who thinks about things just a little bit more than most people (seemingly) at my age — in ways that I couldn’t ascertain on my own.
Arguably, this post is the best example of that. It’s such a simple topic — whether you write regularly on a blog or not — and yet it resonates personally because, currently, I’m in the middle of a crossroads in which, on the one hand, I’ve had a blog lay dormant (unintentionally) for just over a year which suggests that maybe I should shut it down and move on, and on the other hand I still have desires to write about games (it’s not like I am just going to stop thinking about my experiences with them one day, is it?) but for whatever reason just don’t get it done. Anything I have written in the past year, I’ve left in half-written posts or decided against posting because as a consequence of a long period of silence, I have also lost all confidence in my ability to write.
I’ve never felt that I was any good at writing, but I do know that I think about things in an in depth way (perhaps too much?) and that can, at times, interest other people if I manage to convey those thoughts into my writing. That’s what has kept me writing for four out of the five years that Raptured Reality has been ‘active’ (it turned five in January, during the apparently still on-going period of silence) and in theory will continue to motivate me if I manage to get back on track, but my problem right now is that I’m out in the gravel trap (yay, racing analogies?) and have no obvious way in which to recover. As I said before, anything I write I have no confidence in. Which I guess is exactly the problem.
Anyway, all I wanted to do was say thank you because this post has clarified some things in my head regarding my own experiences in blogging, and may or may not help me with my current situation. Beyond that, keep doing what you do David. I certainly appreciate it.
4/1/2013 @ 12:57 pm
Thanks, glad to hear that this post meant something to you! Which leads to a funny reflection on the post: when I started writing it, I thought it was going to mostly be a throwaway post (not in these se that I wouldn’t hit publish, but in the sense that it wouldn’t be saying anything particularly worthwhile), then when I was done with the post it ended up somewhere that looked to me more interesting than I expected, and now both you and Dan have found it interesting/useful enough to comment on. So I’m glad I didn’t self-censor at the start.
4/4/2013 @ 6:28 pm
I think that the low standards position is related to another idea, which is summed up well in this video:
The only way to improve and remain satisfied is to produce a large body of work. Having low standards is an approach that encourages more writing and therefore better writing. Personally, I try to write a lot, but always maintain a high quality. It’s important to find something that you want to learn about and pursue that. This way, writing becomes the journey of self-learning, which makes it much easier to write.
4/8/2013 @ 6:30 am
Mmm, that’s a really good (and relevant) video, thanks for mentioning that.
Re finding something you want to learn about: my first reaction was to strongly agree, but then I started to wonder, because so much of me has always been wrapped up in learning. And then when I started thinking about it a bit more in my context: I have a few (traditional) learning projects going on right now (guitar, Japanese), and I generally don’t actually blog much about them.
But still: I do feel like I’m learning a lot when I’m blogging here, and that’s a key part of what keeps me blogging. I guess for me it’s mostly: write about what I want to think about, and then I’ll get enough out of that act to want to keep on going, even if at first I don’t like the quality of the writing or the thinking?
I suspect that, for many other people, that still isn’t the right motivation, though. Generalizing it a bit more, maybe: write what you want to write about? Which sounds pretty banal when I type it out, but maybe there’s something there anyways. Find something that you care enough about to want to put down words (or pictures or whatever) about it more than you want to self-censor about it or than you want to do something instead of writing about it…
4/11/2013 @ 2:47 am