Slow is smooth, smooth is fast

If you recognize this mantra, you may know it comes from marksmanship training. The idea is that it is better to move slowly and not have any hitches or unexpected bumps, rather than to hurry and have a less predictable outcome.

Another way to phrase this is

You don’t have time to do it right, but you have time to do it twice?

There are lots of obvious applications for this philosophy in technology, but I’ve been dealing with it in a much more tactile realm – handwriting. I’m one of the cusp generation that got taught cursive and typing in school. I obviously type much more quickly than I handwrite – most people do, or we wouldn’t have invented typewriters. My kids got some very minimal cursive education, but mostly so they could read it, not write it. No one is grading their penmanship and most of their assignments are turned in on Google Docs. When I was learning cursive, my teacher told me, and I believed, that it was because it was faster than printing.

In the last month or so, I fell down a hobby rabbithole and took up fountain pens. The DevOpsDays Vancouver people gave out a lovely writing set as a speaker gift – proper fountain pen, ink, high-quality notebook. I found out that what the nerds on the internet have been saying is true – writing with a fountain pen is a significantly different experience than a ballpoint or even a rollerball. Fountain pens finally made the point of cursive writing make sense to me.

It turns out that some methods of communication are tuned to specific tools.

Who knew, right? So I spent all of my grade school cursive time frustrated because cursive didn’t feel any faster to me, and I would get lost in the middle of a letter or a word, and aaaaargh. Which has made it really funny to take up learning not just “how does a fountain pen even work”, but also “Spencerian Penmanship” (which, the purists would like to inform you, is not calligraphy). It turns out that 10 year old me had a few compounding problems:

  1. Not enough time/practice to gain mastery. I’m a notoriously slow learner of physical skills. It took me 3 years to learn to ride a bike. So learning time that was probably enough for my peers was not enough for me.
  2. Attention problems meant that I would literally lose focus in the middle of a word, or forget how to form letters, or try to move faster than my muscles were prepared to go.
  3. I did not find it intrinsically rewarding.

Now that I’m an adult, and I can afford not only the proper tools (relatively cheap), but tools that I find exciting and fun (less cheap), I feel more rewarded. I am not trying to turn in a homework assignment, I’m just learning a skill, so the time and accuracy penalties don’t apply. Unsurprisingly, I have better handwriting when I slow down. And as hobbies go, this one is really easy to pick up and put down, even more than knitting.

I also have learned years of skills in how to teach myself things, how to self-correct and do mindful improvement. Because I spent so many years as a solo writer, I had to learn to look at my own work, iterate, and improve. That basic skill now serves me for all sorts of things in my life. As a result, I now understand the value of drill and practice. Even if it’s not fun.

Handwriting practice sheet

The first thing to do is draw lines

I used to feel bad about my hobbies – sometimes I’ll get really into something, and get all the equipment to do it, and take Craftsy classes and and and… and then a few months later, I’ll drop it. I would punish myself when the next passion came around. “Remember embroidery? You have all the equipment and you only ever finished 2.5 projects. No, you don’t get to do the fun thing!”. I’ve been easing up on that attitude. I mean, I do try to start with a minimum viable kit for what I want to do, but if I enjoy it, I’ll dive in. Why not? I have an allowance for frivolities, I’m not hurting anyone, and it makes me happy to learn things.

Practicing one letter over and over to refine what I want and learn the motion

All hobbies are fractal, when you start examining them. I’m not sure the same is true of work, or maybe it’s just that deep expertise is less easy to share. So for the top-level hobby fountain pens, the fractal might look like this:

  • Handwriting
    • Penmanship
    • Calligraphy
    • Hand-lettering
  • Ink
    • Purchased
    • Hand-created
    • Mixing
  • Pens/Hardware
    • Prestige collection
    • Hacking/fixing
    • Restoration
    • Design

Each of those could be pursued further and further into tiny corners of specialized interest. That’s amazing. Seriously, thank you, internet. Hobbies are fandoms, and we can all find a place that suits us somewhere. I figured out that I love road cycling, but I hate bike maintenance. I can pay a shop to do that. There are other people who love tinkering, tuning, and upgrading their bikes. I like piecing quilts, but consider hand-quilting tedious. That’s ok, I can be a machine-quilter.

Once I thought of hobbies as fractal, I realized that we could not only drill down into sub-hobbies, we can back out to get a bigger picture of why we want to do hobbies, and it gives us an insight into why we want to do anything.

I like learning things. It gives me a feeling of satisfaction and control in my life. I feel about new ideas like a magpie feels about shiny beads. This basic tendency really accounts for most of my career – I used to joke that technical writing is a lifetime of writing research papers, but it’s not far off. It’s more like journalism, but the reporter is still going to walk away knowing more about the story than ever makes it into the paper.

My hobbies are a way for me to nourish that passion in a way that is good for me, as well as an employer. Sometimes I want a tactile thing to do when I got back to a hotel room in another city, completely worn out from people. Sometimes I need to remind myself that the difference between art and craft, work and hobby, is about how much you get paid, not how valuable it is. Even magpies can only pick up so many shiny beads before they really just want a break and some tinfoil.

What does that have to do with marksmanship? Everything. Because slow is smooth, and sometimes we need to move slowly to appreciate and learn what we need. Because smooth is fast – it pays to think through what we want to say and write before we commit it to ink. Because everything we do to learn a hobby is itself a way to learn the skill of teaching ourself.

This job is undoing me

… in the best way possible.

My protective casing of hard-earned cynicism is being rubbed away by all this genuine kindness, cooperation, good culture, and all that jazz. It’s honestly kind of uncomfortable, like molting.

You need to understand – I have this hard-ass candy shell for a reason. My first job in technology was 1996. My first college boyfriend introduced me to BBSing through what we would now call a troll community. I have been “one of the guys”, and “that girl”, and “the writer, whats-her-name”. I have gotten my ass grabbed at work and gotten dirty texts and chats from co-workers and been propositioned in creepy ways at conferences. The technical writer is hired too late and fired early in the startup process, but I love startups. No company has ever previously make me feel like I have valuable things to contribute and they consider themselves lucky to have me.

I thought at first it was perhaps due to the change in my role, this exciting new job title that means I never have to write release notes, but today I realized that it wasn’t that. I was walking with the new person on my team, and trying to download to her what I’ve learned about the company and the things I asked about and can just tell her.

  1. You will not get fired because The Internet Hate Machine is angry about something. We know about the internet hate machine and don’t consider them valuable feedback.
  2. No one is going to yell at you if you mess up your expense accounting, especially at the beginning. We’re all working from a place of mutual respect and shared interested and assumed good intentions.
  3. You are not required to sacrifice quality of life to save company money. Be reasonable, stick to the budget outlines, but it is worth a hotel night to have you bright and functional instead of trying do do a conference after an early morning flight.
  4. You have time to learn your job. We’ll be happy as soon as you contribute, but you need time to ramp up and that’s expected and normal.
  5. It’s ok to ask questions. No one expects you to know everything, we hired you because we think you have the potential to learn. Very few of us knew about this technology or industry when we started. You don’t have to know it all when you start.
  6. Maintaining human relationships with your coworkers and other people in our ecosphere is important, and will be counted as work, not fluff.
  7. If something happens at home while you’re on a business trip and you need to leave, it’s ok to just leave. No single event is more important than your outside-of-work life.

How am I supposed to maintain a cheerful cynicism about people who genuinely like working together and also sometimes hanging out at tea parlors with a kid in tow? How is my cool detachment going to go when I get raises and positive feedback without even asking for it? What if it doesn’t feel like high-stakes gambling to be able to bring my whole self to work, even the wacky futurist parts and the parts that can’t code and the parts that are noisy feminist politics? What if “being me” is not high stakes, but table stakes, for everyone?

This job is breaking me because all of that shielding and cynicism were adaptive for other companies, but not actually very useful at this one, and in order to succeed here, I need to take all that armor off and be real, and vulnerable, and let people help me. It’s terrifying, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

@wiredferret is so composed, informative, and present as a speaker

I Have Something To Say

That was the tagline for the late lamented Technically Speaking organization, and I really like it because it captures one of the really important parts of speaking – all of us have unique insights and perspectives, and even if you say something, I still have something to say that will be different.

As I learn and grow in the craft of speaking and giving talks, I have been thinking about what it is that I’m trying to achieve, what I would consider growth and leveling up. It’s important to not rest on our previous accomplishments – that leads to stagnation and that miserable stuck feeling.

I want to improve my delivery. I want to improve my slide construction. I want to branch out into different types of conferences. And I want to give a keynote.

When I told my manager this, he challenged me to identify what it is about a keynote that I want to have, that makes it different from the talks I’ve been doing already. After a bit of thought, I realized that the nature of a keynote means that you have a chance to talk to an audience who would not normally select your talk in a multi-track conference. No matter how good my documentation talk is, only people who care about documentation will choose to attend it, even though the people who need a documentation talk may not. I want to reach that reluctant audience, the people who don’t think they need to be in my talk.

What is a keynote?

In a technical conference, a keynote is addressed to the entire conference, and usually happens at the beginning or end of the day. Keynotes are thematically linked to the conference, or are presented by “big names”. They are the one experience you can expect everyone at a conference to share. Even single-track conferences have keynotes – they might be longer than the rest of the talk, or include a special introduction, or the speaker might be a promotional pull.

By content, a keynote either has something relevant to the community, like Matz’s Ruby updates at RubyConf; or it’s something that is broader than any one kind of technology, like Carina Zona’s “Consequences of an Insightful Algorithm”.

Organizationally, keynotes are almost always invited, rather than being part of the CFP/application process. The organizers select speakers and reach out to them with a specific invitation. The topic may be negotiated, but keynote speakers traditionally have a lot of latitude in their topic choice.

How might I get one?

Keynote elements

I think there are three elements involved in being invited to give a keynote:

  • Professional reputation
  • Proven speaking and delivery ability
  • Timely, relevant topics

I feel like I can work on all of those points, in different ways.

My professional reputation will depend on me continuing to do what I do as well as I can – speaking, teaching, mentoring, coaching, being available to help people with their needs whenever I can.

Speaking ability – I only have a smidgen of training in this. My high school didn’t have speech and debate, I didn’t participate in college, I’ve been pretty much getting along with a lot of self-education. I am thinking it might be time to get some real training and coaching. This is probably the aspect that scares me most — it’s really hard to get coached on something, especially if you think you’re pretty good at it. But it’s a way to get better, just like watching the talks I’ve done helps me get better, even though I really hate doing it. If you watch yourself speak enough times, you sort of burn past the shame and get to the place where you can improve by watching.

Timely topics — You always have to lead your target, and I want to put together a couple proposals for general-interest topics that haven’t been extensively covered yet. More on that later.

What I’m going to do

So my plan is multi-part. It all is underpinned by me doing a lot of work to remind myself that it is ok to publicly want a thing and publicly talk about wanting it. That’s hard to do.


I am trying to talk to all the people I meet in my conference rounds about wanting a chance to keynote. This has three effects:

  • It gets people to think of the possibility of inviting me
  • It normalizes people asking about keynoting, especially if they aren’t in the normal demographic of CEO/powerful person/known famous coder
  • It teaches me more about how to ask for big things, and gives me more experience in doing slightly anxiety-inducing things.


I need a couple topics to tease people with – things that are interesting, timely, and appropriate for a larger audience. Here are the two I’m thinking about, in CFP pitch format

Master Builder and the Growth Mindset

A lot of us got told we were smart growing up, and looking around at our pretty nice lives, it’s easy to believe that. But what if I told you that you are successful despite this compliment, not because of it? It’s bad for our sense of experimentation and willingness to fail to be told that we’re smart. We tend to gravitate to learning and doing things we’re good at with less effort. We avoid things that we won’t be good at instantly because we don’t know how to be mediocre.

Getting into technology is like being able to assemble a Lego set – there are easy instructions, you assemble the modules, and you end up with what you saw on the box. But not all of us are issued a box. Some of us have had to learn to be master builders, able to design and construct new and weird things that are not part of the kit. This experimentation and improvisation can provide us with flexibility and insight in a rapidly-changing industry.

This talk is intended for people who are interested in designing and working on teams full of people who value experimentation as well as execution.

Everything Is A Little Bit Broken
The Illusion of Control

Humankind is extremely superstitious and we are operating systems way above our actual level of comprehension. To keep our limbic systems from freaking out, we have a set of beliefs that makes us feel like we have control over things that happen around us – but are we right? Let’s talk about how error budgets, layered access, and function over form are the building blocks of the ability to get on with work without decision paralysis.

This talk is about how we shift risk around with both process changes and magical thinking, and how we can use our tendency to be fearful to actually make things safer, instead of just feeling safer.

This talk is intended to challenge and shake up people who think that failure is a single state or that doing everything right will lead to predictable results.

Study and Learn

I’m going to find myself a speaking coach, or maybe a course. Something to take what I already have and polish and refine it. No one knows how to do a triple lutz on their own, and coaching is the difference between talent and success. Like I said, this is really hard for me. Like a lot of gifted kids, I’ve gotten a long way on sheer talent without having to be bad at something. Luckily for me, I also have spent sometime sucking at things, being coached, and getting better. It took me 6 years to learn to serve a volleyball overhand, but I got there. I want to level up my speaking from “good enough/pretty good” to “reliably excellent”.

It’s a big goal, but I think I have a good plan in place, and I’ll let you know how it goes.

When the cat’s away….

…the mice will self-organize?

My manager is on vacation. Like really a lot on vacation. Logged out of Slack, not on email or phone, not showing up for meetings, none of that. This appears to be what he’s doing:

Hawaiian beach

And he’s been gone, like weeks. OK, I think it’s 2 weeks. But it is significant and meaningful, even during the weird holiday bit at the end of the year.

I have several observations about that:

  • I would like to keep working places where management gets significant breaks and takes them as breaks. It means that I also feel ok taking time off, even though it’s sometimes a little harder for my co-workers when I’m gone. Culture does come from the top, and when your culture involves actually having a life outside of work, it shows.
  • When the person you usually get your answers from is not around, you’re forced to develop alternative sources of information. This is great in a lot of ways. You don’t get rigid about your information, and the organization practices redundancy.

When you think about it, real vacations are chaos engineering for teams.

  • We did find a few little glitches in the system, things that we can either fix ahead of time or work around for next time. For example, he’s the one who schedules our retrospective, it’s not on a set day. None of us know what the parameters are. But we just didn’t have it, and next time we can set it up so it’s not a deal. Iterate.
  • On a psychologically safe team, it’s ok to make decisions without your manager around. I pushed a deadline. A coworker told me her priorities for my work. I worked with a team mate to decide where to allocate money in the coming year. It felt safe to do that, because we can trust that when our manager comes back, he’ll be glad we did our jobs instead of waiting for him.
  • The last email he sent before he left reminded us that he trusted us to do our jobs, that we could ask each other for help, and that it was ok to go to the management team if we had a need. What more could a person ask for? Autonomy and trust go so far toward making us the best and happiest we can be.
  • He’ll be a better manager for having taken time to stare at the sun and the sand without looking at a computer screen or performing work emotional labor. It is exhausting to do hiring at our current pace, because hiring is hugely emotionally intensive, if you’re doing it right. Him taking care of himself means that those of us on his team can trust that he will be available to us when we need him. That’s good planning.

So many of these observations can be summed up as trust. Leaving your team takes trust. It’s important to be trusted to do your job without close supervision. It’s really really important to feel valued without feeling like you’re trapped or obligated.

Being essential is not the same as being valued.

Have a great vacation, boss! We’ll catch you on the flip side.

Milestone anniversary

We’ve been married 20 years today!

Megan kissing Heidi on the cheek

My wife and I got married on a snowy January day, 20 years ago. We were young, and broke, and hopeful. It turns out, our hope was justified. Here are a few of our accomplishments:

  • We still enjoy being married to each other
  • One bachelor’s degree for each of us
  • Two amazing kids
  • 2 cross-country moves and 6 local moves
  • Resolved arguments about blankets, computers, keyboards, money, parenting, and when to open Christmas presents
  • Supported each other through good and bad jobs, injuries, illnesses, and movies that really should have been better

I’m looking forward to at least as many good years in the future.

I love you, Megan!

Well, that didn’t go like I imagined

The Toggle Talk

As a speaker, there are three things I count on to give a talk:

  • Slides
  • Narrative flow
  • Speaker notes

My dependence on these elements decreases as I give a talk multiple times, but I use the slides to help me remember where I am in the narrative even if I don’t refer to the speaker notes often.

This fall, I designed a new talk and built it in Twine, a game engine for choose-your-own-adventure games. Each slide was actually an HTML page rendered by the game engine, and the narrative was supplied by the audience choosing from several options. This was a radical departure from my usual method, but I’d practiced it, and tuned it, and wrestled with the CSS and I felt pretty confident I could make it work, even though I wouldn’t have speaker notes or a unified narrative through-line.

Because I hadn’t solved the hosting problem yet, I needed to “play” it from my laptop, but that was no problem – I had a USB-C to HDMI adapter. The talk before mine ran long, but I only have technical problems a tiny handful of times in my talks, so I didn’t think I’d need much time to get set up.

I had reckoned without the USB-C/USB-3/HDMI problem, because it had never happened before. I always present from my ipad, and it’s usually a rock-solid toolchain. So I get up there, I’m rushed for time because of the talk before, I’m nervous because it’s the first time I’m giving this talk, and because it’s so “weird”, and…. it failed. The combination of cable/laptop/projector failed so hard that my computer rebooted and came back looking weird, and I had to accept that I might have just bricked my brand-new work laptop, in front of an audience, in a talk that had already technically started.

I had no slides.

I had no notes.

I had no narrative.

I had practiced, but I had not practiced the complete failure scenario, because it had never occurred to me that it could fail this hard.

I still managed to pull a coherent technical talk out and I only ran 10 minutes short, and honestly, it’s one of the accomplishments I’m proudest of in the last year. Literally everything went wrong and I still delivered value.

Afterwards, when I was trying to quietly dump adrenaline, I could only think about how I had failed to achieve any part of my goals. My hands were shaking, my throat was tight, and I felt a little like crying.

That wasn’t how it was supposed to go!

Later, I got to talk to people who had been in the audience, and they asked questions that they could have had if they’d gotten the real talk. That was cheering. I joked that this was the worst this talk could possibly go, because there wasn’t anything left to fail!

Then I got the speaker evaluation cards, and people were universally complimentary about my poise under tough circumstances. It hadn’t felt like poise, it felt like literal flop-sweat, like a drip from my shoulderblades to my waist. But they couldn’t feel my sweat, they could only experience my description of a brand-new talk focused on something that they had to imagine.

The webinar

One of LaunchDarkly’s goals for the year is to nurture and encourage customers to feel comfortable telling their stories, whether on stage or in a blog post. To that end, we are offering some people speaker training. Remembering my fall experiences, I solicited nice people on Twitter to come to a beta of my talk. That would give me a chance to try out the tool, the content, the process, before we offered it as a finished product.

I learned so much! Almost all of it was a little painful.

  • I need to log in early because I’m a panelist, not a host, so we need to coordinate that so I can show my slides to the webinar.
  • I did test my A/V setup!
  • I didn’t realize how unnerving it would be for me to talk to dead air. For all of my teaching/preaching/tech talks, I’ve had an audience. I can make eye contact with them, hear them start to fidget if they are checking out, notice their grins and twinkles and coughs to stay connected to them. But obviously, none of that happens when I’m talking into a headset with the audience on mute.
  • I need to do some work on the content. Not too bad, but I always have to give a talk at least once to live humans to get the suck out.
  • The lack of response makes me so nervous I talk even faster than usual. SLOW DOWN, ME.
  • I have to figure out a better way to wrap up/end the webinar. I didn’t think about how to tie it up neatly, because talks work differently.

So this is all great. When I do the webinar “for reals”, those are all mistakes that I’m not going to need to make because I know where they are.

The meta-lessons

  • It is hard to predict how you’re going to fail, but it is possible to build in a reasonable degree of redundancy.
  • Tests in isolation are not going to catch systemic problems.
  • It is better to degrade what you provide rather than failing entirely.
  • Test with a subset of users so you can predict how your solution will scale.
  • Don’t get so distracted by your failures that you fail to notice surprising data or silver linings.*

* One of the most beautiful night skies I’ve ever seen was on a winter night in the middle of a widespread blackout. I was stomping across the yard to get firewood, and I happened to look up and see the stars without light pollution. A lot of things had gone wrong, but if they hadn’t, I would not have had that moment of starlight bright enough to reflect off the snow, and the milky way like a second snowy stripe in the sky.

Minneapolis skyline at dusk from 35W bridge


I loved Cate’s post about deciding on liberations instead of resolutions. If I think there’s a change I should make in my life, I try to just… make it, instead of waiting for an arbitrary time marker. mostly because if I think about it too much, I’ll often talk myself out of it. But liberations? I need some of those, too.


  1. Unsubscribing the third time I delete a newsletter unread.
  2. Resetting all my slacks and media inputs to Read status whenever I feel like it.
  3. Getting rid of every item of clothing I’m keeping in case I lose weight again.
  4. Accept that I am terrible at Approved Gift Giving occasions, and just let myself be spontaneous about gifts.
  5. Hiring household work rather than trying to teach/enforce it. Not for everything, but maybe that’s just not going to be my legacy as a parent, and that’s ok.
  6. Helping assholes.*

* I started my new year off with an extensive twitter thread from some jerk in Australia who responded to one of my friends being excited I’ll be giving a workshop by going on and on and on about how open source was life-ruining and stupid, and we were all stupid. And he was wrong, and rude, and abrasive, and I dropped everyone else off the reply list and gently replied that this probably wouldn’t help his job hunt, and had he considered not being a jerk? And then I read Cate’s post, and his follow-up explaining that he hadn’t meant to go after anyone, he just wanted us all to understand that open source was terrible. And then I blocked him, gentle reader. Because I have literally been playing gentle explainer to assholes since I got online at 17, and 24 years is enough. I have done my time. Someone else can help the deliberately abrasive people, or they can stew, but it doesn’t have to be my job.

Growing Edges

These are not exactly resolutions, more like things that I’m looking forward to working toward.

  • Write a book. Also, pitch a book (different books)
  • Level up my public speaking (this is a post I’m mulling)
  • Make some new types of garments: jeans, bras
  • Work toward online teaching/coaching/mentoring skills. Give classes? Run webinars? That sort of thing.
  • Parent my kids in the ways that work best for them. That’s an every year goal, but the goalposts move like water on a hot griddle.

Shoes and software

I bought a new pair of shoes when I went to New York City the last time. I am trying to find shoes and boots that look good with both skirts and pants, fit properly, and are good for a full day of standing/7 miles of walking. This is a pretty tall order, as you know if you buy many women’s shoes. I found a pair I thought was promising and broke them in by walking 30 miles in a week in them. There was just one rub. Right over my left toe.

I complained about this to my friend when I got back, and she told me that since I’d bought them from an actual store that specializes in shoes, I could take them in and get the store to stretch a little spot over the rub. And they did! And the spot stopped rubbing. But by then I’d irritated it enough so that my regular shoes were rubbing it. Well, it’s in no way serious enough to see a podiatrist over, kind of a normal thing that happens to feet, and the advice is to wear shoes that fit you properly.

I fell down a research rabbit hole, and did you know? You can buy shoe lasts and little carved nubs that fit into the holes in the lasts, and you put them in your shoe and add some shoe stretcher, and you can tailor your shoes? Those of you in certain age and class categories, who grew up wearing leather shoes, did know this. I just learned this, in the start of my fifth decade, and it’s almost as revolutionary as when I realized I could just sew my own dresses so they fit properly. I don’t have to accept that my feet or body are just going to be slightly ill-served by the average, I can fix it. If I have the right kind of shoes and the money for the tools, which is another post.

I think this is an essential difference between software users and software creators. Software users almost always have a rub, a spot where they have to conform to the way the software expects them to behave, an irritation point. They don’t know that they could change it or they don’t have the tools to change it. It’s very “fixed mindset”. This is how the software behaves, and that’s just how it is. Software creators understand that there is almost always some way to tweak their tech to fit them better. A software package is not immutable, but rather something that you can tinker with and change – a “growth mindset”.

I want more of the world to have a growth mindset about their tech – everything from rooting their phones to eliminate software they don’t want, to turning off push notifications, to hiding screens they don’t care about. That’s one of the things I’m excited about in my work with LaunchDarkly. Currently we’re working at much larger scales than individual preferences – think about the revolution in shoes when we started designing for left and right feet – but eventually the idea that you can customize your experience of technology will get more and more accessible and democratic. That’s thrilling, because everyone should have shoes that fit their particular feet and software that fits their particular needs.

Nothing gold can stay

This month marks the end of two organizations that were really important to me, and I want to tell you about them.


Alterconf logo

Alterconf was a conference series that happened all over the world. The organizing spirit was Ashe Dryden. She took all her experience with the tech industry, gaming, and conferences, and used it to build something new and unique. For a tiny conference series (relatively), Alterconf pulled the Overton window a long way toward justice and equal access. Some of the features that were almost entirely unheard of when it started and are now increasingly common:

  • Sliding scale entry fees
  • Real-time transcription
  • Child care
  • Inclusive catering by local small businesses
  • Paying sketchnoters, live-tweeters, and other local correspondents
  • Paying all speakers, equally and publicly

They also made sure that all the talks were recorded. Everything Alterconf chose to do ties back to opening up access, removing barriers to participation. So many of the people I can think of now on the speaking circuits got their start at Alterconf.

My Alterconf talk was about the intersection of female socialized caretaking roles and digital security:

My kid’s first conference talk was also Alterconf:
He talked about what it’s like to be a kid on the internet before you’re 13.

The topics were personal, varied, heartfelt, meaningful. The speakers were not the usual suspects. Look at all these beautiful people representing a huge diversity of experience.

Alterconf meant a lot to me personally and to the culture of technical talks. I am emboldened by what I learned there.

If Alterconf, with a sliding-scale admission, can afford to pay speakers, I will never accept that bigger, more expensive, better-sponsored conferences can’t. I am especially angry at conferences that don’t even give their speakers a free pass.

So thank you, Ashe, and all the people who made Alterconf happen. I’m sorry it couldn’t last longer, but I understand there’s only so much anyone can pour out.

Technically Speaking

Technically Speaking logo

The Technically Speaking newsletter also ended this month, and for much the same reason – there is only so much self we can pour into a project before it becomes a drain and not a gift. Chiu-Ki Chan and Cate Huston put together a useful, informative, and encouraging newsletter that was applicable to both new/aspiring speakers and experienced folks.

It was opinionated, which was a benefit. There are a lot of conferences out there, and if someone helped me curate for conferences that paid costs or were in my interest range, with write-ups about what to expect, that was so useful! They also curated links to relevant topics, everything from slide design to clothing choices to imposter syndrome. You could always count on some useful bit of data to make you a better speaker, or a better conference organizer. They didn’t shy away from talking about conference-based controversies – like what do you do with an invited speaker who turns out to be A Problem? How do you evaluate whether to pull out of a conference? What are red flags for speakers?

It was also a community, albeit in a weird new-media way. There were other people, other women who were experiencing some of the weird things I was, and I would not have seen them because I’m not in that corner of tech, but the experiences were easy to translate. We cheered each other on, watched for each other at conferences, remembered to act in solidarity when we could, because our sticker-based motto was I have something to say.

I have something to say. And Technically Speaking taught me how to say it.

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I hate that these things aren’t going to be happening in 2018, or maybe ever again, but no one owes them to me. I’m just going to remember that they were important to me when they happened, and the best way I can honor the work that went into them is teaching other people what I learned, as much as I can, the way I can without damaging myself.

To that end, I’m assembling a little webinar on how to write and submit CfPs. I started doing it as a work thing, to help LaunchDarkly help customers who want to give talks, but when I posted on Twitter that I was going to have a beta to test out my ideas before I used them on my customers, 30+ people told me they wanted my completely untried lesson. So… I’ll beta, and give it to my customers, and then get it recorded. And that will be a little thing I can give to the world that isn’t either Technically Speaking or Alterconf, but still built out of their lessons. I’ll make sure it’s captioned in the final version. I’ll remember that it’s weird and opaque the first few times you submit a conference talk. And I’ll hope I can break the trail a little more, for the people walking behind me, as the people walking in front broke it for me.

Spring photo of a tree budding from a river

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Robert Frost1874 – 1963

Nature’s first green is gold, 
Her hardest hue to hold. 
Her early leaf’s a flower; 
But only so an hour. 
Then leaf subsides to leaf. 
So Eden sank to grief, 
So dawn goes down to day. 
Nothing gold can stay.

Packing, optimizing, and satisficing

I’m off on a two-week trip that happens to be broken by an 18 hour stop at home. (Nodevember, North Bay Python, SpringOne Platform, LaunchDarkly writing sprint). Every couple months, I try to clean out my bags entirely, get rid of the trash that accumulates, make sure that I have room for all the new fidget spinners, that sort of thing. This time I thought I’d share what it is I take along.

In summary, if you are at a conference with me and need Imitrex, Immodium, condoms, period supplies, emergency protein, or stickers, I’m your gal.

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