Musings on Marketing

I suck at marketing.

Since it’s valuable to know what you suck at, what is marketing, anyway?

Marketing is not sales. I’m really good at sales. Sales-the way I do it, which I learned mostly out of a book called “Getting Into Your Customer’s Head”–involves interacting with a specific prospect to help them identify the problem they have and see if your product or service is a solution for it, while at the same time seeing if they are qualified to pay for and implement your solution in a way that’s going to make you money and make them happy. A fully qualified prospect is a closed prospect, and when you actually understand what you’re selling the process is remarkably easy: you just envision the future your prospect wants, lay out the steps to get there–including the costs–and show how your product will serve their needs in a way that is superior to the alternatives.

The last point can be tricky if you’re selling a crappy product, but who wants to do that?

Marketing is not sales.

Marketing is creating product awareness.

A person can’t be a prospect for your product if they don’t know it exists. Marketing is what makes them aware of its existence.

There is one and only one central marketing message: “Look at me.”

Which is why I suck at marketing.

Remember Al Pacino in “Taxi Driver”?

“Are you lookin’ at me? I don’t see nobody else here.”

That’s pretty much me.

Ergo: not marketing.

Being a center of attention during most of my formative years was a threat. Being invisible–which is my secret superhero superpower–was a recipe for comfort and safety.

So, my goal in the next couple of years is to learn to be comfortable attracting attention. Lots and lots of attention. When I learn to do that, the rest follows.

I’m very good at setting goals for myself. When I was first learning to be a manager I realized I sucked at setting goals for other people, but I was great at setting goals for myself. So I set myself a goal to learn how to set goals for other people, and in the past ten years I’ve had a number of compliments from people I’ve managed regarding my competency as a manager, which is borne out in their productivity.

So I’m comfortable setting myself the goal of getting comfortable being the center of attention. And when I do that, marketing will get very much easier, because I will at least not be actively resisting its fundamental dictum.

Posted in economics, life, marketing, psychology | Leave a comment

Closure

I suck at endings.

If there are really two types of people in the world–ones who start projects and ones who finish them–I am definitely of the former variety.

That said, for every beginning there must be an end.

Today I reached an end: the writing for the final episode of Songs of Albion is done, although there’s still polishing and Hilary is still working on the illustrations, without which nothing is really complete, and Albion is as much hers as mine. But I’m going to take a pause and celebrate my own small ending.

It hasn’t been an easy journey getting there. Hilary and I have been talking about this for about three years, trying on ideas of form and character, and finally striking what I think was the ideal balance of short, 140-word episodes accompanied by square illustrations. Just getting the division of the page balanced in the right way was no small feat.

We’ve been working on it in concrete detail for a year and a half. We planned to run it for a year and see what kind of audience we got–negligible, as it turned out–and then decide what to do.

The plot has evolved through time, with the death of Sir Hyphen-Dash only coming in rather late in the day, a few months ago, as I looked for a way to bring it to closure on Midsummer’s Day in the Year of Our Lord 2012 (2765 a.u.c.)

I’m pleased with a lot of things about this tale. We’ve explored new ground, created an art form that hitherto didn’t exist, between the webcomic and the serial novel. We created a collection of interesting, unique characters: Marlowe, Cat, Drunais, Grace, Hope, Felicity, Lady Belinda, Don Diego de la Vago, Captain Stone, Mate Morse, Marie the Mermaid, the ship’s carpenter (OK, we stole him from Star Trek), Tuc the seal king, Daphne, Skeezicks, Athis, Dagan, Siduri, Bil, Slash, Ea, and the ever-inscrutable Rothgar the sea bear.

That’s 22 characters spread across 161 episodes of approximately 140 words apiece, every one including a gorgeous illustration. I’ve not stitched the whole thing together yet, but we’re running on for 22,000 words, so I guess that’s 1000 words per character.

Rich, dense, evocative stuff.

But it didn’t find an audience because I suck at marketing far more than I suck at endings. Despite Hilary’s stunningly beautiful images it just didn’t grab people. The few who read it liked it, but it didn’t propagate.

Still: the writing is done, and I’m immensely proud of it. Speaking for myself, I’ve had a lot of fun and learned a huge amount, and working with Hilary is always delightful. One couldn’t ask for a better artistic collaborator. That others generally failed to appreciate our work is a deficiency that will be remedied in time.

Hope, like art, is eternal.

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Random Quotations

These are from the Globe and Mail in the ’90′s, probably… I found them on yellowed newsprint while doing some cleaning:

“One is happy as a result of one’s own efforts, once one knows the necessary ingredients of happiness–simple tastes, a certain degree of courage, self-denial to a point, love of work, and, above all, a clear conscience. Happiness is no vague dream, of that I now feel certain.” — George Sand

“A man of active and resilient mind outwears his friendships just as certainly as he outwears his love affairs, his politics and his epistemology.” — H.L. Mencken (Which I happened upon whilst changing epistemological gears, something I have done again since. My friendships seem pretty robust, though.)

“A life spent making mistakes is not only more honourable but more useful than a life spent doing nothing.” — George Bernard Shaw (I take great comfort from this belief.)

“What is money? A man is successful if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night and in between does what he wants to do. — Bob Dylan (I have been, by this measure, quite successful so far.)

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Silver Bullets

“The Mythical Man Month” was published in the mid-70′s and most of it still rings true today: adding people to a late project makes it later, and there is no silver bullet.

It probably says something about software developers that they talk about a device or system for radically improving their professional lives in terms of a metaphor for killing vampires.

But code–while it is both soulless and immortal–doesn’t really resemble anything you’d want to slay very much.

That said, there have been a couple of silver bullets proposed in the past fifteen years, and it’s instructive to look at where they are today. The first is generic programming, which limps along under the somewhat more pretentious name of “template metaprogamming”, and the second is functional programming.

Generic programming got a big boost from the standard template library in C++, but despite considerable improvements over the years the system has never really caught on. C++ extensions like the “D” programming language remain academic, and while virtually any “good” language these days has some form of genericity–from Python’s duck typing to Java’s aptly named generics–they remain at the periphery of software development practice, and rightly so. While absolutely without peer in certain very limited but important areas, attempts to use generics for everything from matrix initialization to sliced bread have mostly fallen flat.

I’ve recently been playing with the boost::msm library, which is a good example of the failings of the “generics uber alles” approach to software development. While there may be a language out there that makes such concepts both powerful and easy to use, C++ is not that language and never will be. Nor do I think, for reasons that I won’t go into here, that are generics the appropriate way to provide software developers with the tools they are looking for to solve the problems generics take aim at.

So generics are not a silver bullet, but they are still damned useful in some very important but very limited scopes. I wouldn’t want to design without them, but I wouldn’t want to design with only them, either.

Functional programming is a much shinier silver bullet, having not yet had time to tarnish in the oxidizing atmosphere of actual software development teams for very long. Haskell and Erlang are the two most-talked about examples, with Haskell winning the prize for functional purity and Erlang the one for being pretty useful. There have been some significant applications written in Haskell–a provably correct Perl compiler is nothing to sneeze at–but its purity remains a significant barrier to entry. There’s nothing wrong with that, but Haskell has not to my limited knowledge ever made anyone say, “Wow, this would have been so much harder in language XYZ!”

Unlike Haskell, which was developed as a theoretical platform that should also be practical, Erlang was developed as a practical solution to a practical problem, and while it doesn’t get the hype that Haskell does it certainly seems like a tool that makes some things that would be otherwise very hard relatively easy: notably distributed concurrency. Outside of that, it’s not clear why one would use the language, although I’m certainly looking forward to doing so.

So like OO, functional and generic programming have their place, but they aren’t ever going to displace procedural programming as the core of the software developer’s workday.

It’s probable that functional extensions to general purpose languages will become relatively common in the next decade, much like OO extensions to procedural languages became common in the ’80′s. The purely functional languages are not going to kill any vampires, though, any more than Smalltalk took over the world when Reagan was president (although Ruby is giving it another go…)

The curious thing is that there are still people out there who believe that the next shiny bit of syntax layered on over the sequential execution architecture of the CPU is going to solve all our problems. Historically this is simply not a remotely plausible belief. This is not how the world of software development has ever progressed. There are no silver bullets because developers would rather stick to the tools and techniques they know, and adapt those tools to take on the best attributes of any candidate silver bullets shot in their general direction.

This is the same as the hardware world, more-or-less: the turnover of mature technology is incredibly slow. Hybrid automobiles are an example of how difficult it is to actually displace an established way of doing things. Burning fossil hydrocarbons is such a deeply optimized approach to the problem of transportation that it was easier to adapt it to a semi-electric vehicle than build an all-electric one. I think it likely we will still be using heat engines in cars a hundred years from now, and the computers in those cars will be running primarily procedural code.

Posted in language, prediction, psychology, software, technology | Leave a comment

The Most Important Discovery of My Life

I have found the key to one of life’s great mysteries, and in doing so settled an argument that has plagued and divided people since nigh-on the beginning of the Epoch. It is a burning, eternal question, the tinder that set alight countless flame wars, the fracas that launched a thousand threads and burned the borderless buttons of trn.

In short, it is: vi or Emacs?

For many years I’ve used Emacs for code and long-form fiction, including my PhD thesis[*].

I’ve used vi where necessary, mostly on tiny or weird systems where nothing else is available. Working on single-board computers and the like in recent years I’ve been doing a lot of that, so my vi skillz have been improving, which is what has allowed me to reach my current state of enlightenment:

Emacs is for prose, vi is for poetry.

Emacs is effusive. It’s infinitely configurable, flexible, and suitable as a replacement for the shell. I know (just) enough lisp to get a laugh out of “my other car is a cdr”, which is sufficient to make Emacs do pretty much anything I want.

Vi is minimal, especially when you’re really running vi (or vim in compatibility mode). It’s inflexible, unforgiving and requires you to really pay attention. Many commands are by default line or word oriented, which should have been my first clue as to its obviously intended use.

Emacs supports all kinds of nice features that make handling large amounts of raw text easy. Vi requires focus and concentration on the details, yet makes certain character level operations, like replacement, trivially easy. Oscar Wilde famously said, “I worked on my poem all day. In the morning I added a comma. In the afternoon I removed it.” Clearly he was running vi.

So: People of the Internet, be at peace! The eternal struggle is ended. Beat your mice into trackballs and study flames no more. Write poetry with vi in the morning, prose with Emacs in the afternoon and do something with sheep in the evening (isn’t that what Marx told us to do? Or possibly RMS–it’s easy to get them confused…)

[*] The work I did wasn’t fictional, but the work that motivated it was, as it eventually turned out.

Posted in poetry, politics, software, technology, writing | Leave a comment

Faux Tennyson

It little profits that an idle man
by this blank screen, amongst these barren disks,
matched by an ageless vice
I Tweet and roll unequal blogs unto a “Book of Face”
that sorts and stores and feeds and knows not me
at least not if I’ve got noscript configured right.

I could probably pastiche the whole poem, but I’m not sure it’s quite the best use of my time just now, and besides, Tennyson deserves better.

The fate of “Ulysses” in the hands of people who have never actually done anything with their lives–critics–is a curious thing, as it is a poem about someone who has spent his entire life doing things of note by someone who was no slouch in that department himself.

There is a currently popular and quite ridiculous line of attack–I use the word advisedly–that suggests that the Ulysses of the poem is somehow bad for a) recognizing that he’s really, really badly suited to the job he was through no fault of his own born into and b) recognizing that his son Telemachus is much better suited to it than he is and c) recognizing that there is still “some work of noble note” available for him to do as an alternative.

Just why anyone would think any of that was in any way bad is not clear. Is it wrong to recognize your limitations and pass a job you suck at on to a person much better suited to it, who would no doubt not just do it better but enjoy it more, while you go off and do what you are good at? If so, why?

That anyone would accept such an absurd proposition uncritically is a sad commentary on the state of critical commentary. Or maybe I’m just getting old.

Posted in pastiche, poem, poetry | 2 Comments

Short Sonnet

My two favoured forms of formal poetry are the Shakespearean sonnet and the haiku. I’ve also recently played around with Pushkin sonnents sufficiently to appreciate the form, but I doubt it’ll ever be what just falls out of my fingers onto the keyboard.

Recently I’ve been playing around with a form I’m coming to think of as a “short sonnet”, which has something of the brevity of a haiku–a form that isn’t brilliantly suited to English however hard we try–and a sonnet–a form that is a little too lacadaisical for our fast-paced modern world, a term I believe translates roughly as “really short attention spans.”

The short sonnet is a six line poem in iambic pentameter (or possibly tetrameter, although I’ve not experimented with that yet) with an ababcc rhyme scheme. The couplet gives a natural place for the “cutting” of a haiku, and in fact is used for a similar purpose in many Shakespearean sonnets.

Yogurt runs around my little house
a kitten in a lean and hungry form
wild and fierce, the scourge of every mouse,
though hunting warmth is more his common norm.
On winter mornings wakening alone
he melts the ice surrounding hearts of stone.

Posted in cat, haiku, poem, poetry, sonnet | 2 Comments

Balanced (fragment)

Balanced here upon two wobbly legs
I stagger like a toddler through the world
curious, uncertain, just an egg
that hasn’t hatched; a flag that’s not unfurled.
A life of equilibrium imperiled
by curious temptations, doubts and calls:
Amontillado in a cask embarrelled
whispering of where the darkness falls.

At this point the poem is far enough off-kilter to probably not be worth saving. I kinda like both quatrains independently, but they have almost nothing to do with each other.

The problem is I got fascinated by the possibility of rhyming “imperiled”… “peril” has very few rhymes even by my fairly relaxed standard, with “apparel” and “barrel” being the only two likely candidates, although I did consider “ferule” for a bit. The iambic potential of “Amontillado” carried me the rest of the way off the real axis, with the unfortunate results you see.

The conceit of the opening quatrain is that of the adult as an unformed child, still staggering around the world bumping into things (I do this a lot). The second is completely at odds with this, and I entertained ideas of trying to work that opposition into a “balance” and thus do something meta with the theme of the poem. It didn’t work.

It’s likely there are two poems in this fragment, waiting to be born. They’ll likely have to wait for some time.

Posted in iambic pentameter, poem, poetry | 2 Comments

Conditional Probabilities and Surprise Exams

Way back when I wrote some stuff about conditional probabilities and our difficulties in dealing with them. I mentioned that there was a “paradox” in which students incorrectly reason that the surprise exam their prof is going to give them next week can’t happen, because if under the condition they got to Friday the exam hadn’t happened it must happen Friday, so it wouldn’t be a surprise. But if under the condition that they got to Thursday and it hadn’t happened it can’t happen Thursday for the same reason, and so on.

There are all kinds of things wrong with this. First consider the definition of “surprise”. Does it have to mean “completely unexpected and unpredictable”? If that is the case then to a Bayesian there are no surprises, because nothing has zero probability, certainly nothing that actually can happen! Ergo, “surprise” must mean something else, so perhaps a better way of putting it is, “I am going to give you an exam next week but not tell you the day. You may use whatever prior knowledge you have to infer the day.”

What prior knowledge might the students have? They might ask people from previous years what the prof does in this case, and discover a pattern. Or they might discover that the prof flings a dart at a calendar and picks that date that way, meaning that the exam could very well be on a Friday. It would be rather odd for them to decide that “surprise” must mean “completely unpredictable”, particularly when they have been told about it! If you tell someone you are giving them a surprise party, is it a surprise party? Even if you don’t tell them precisely when?

Even once we have arrived at the applicable definition of “surprise” there is something wrong with the analysis. Under the condition of knowing that there is an exam next week but not knowing what day the exam is on the students argue that it must not be on any day at all by considering various conditions that don’t actually exist.

It is true that information increases during the week. The prof said–on my interpretation of “surprise”–that there will be an exam next week but the day will not be announced. This does not translate to, “But it will be impossible to know beforehand what day it will be on.”

Consider a concrete case: the prof throws a dart at a calendar and fixes the date by that means. So when the students are told there is an exam, the date is already set. They just don’t know it. That means that most of the time the condition they use to bootstrap their argument has zero probability.

Under the condition that the exam is actually going to be on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday, the condition “We reach the end of the day on Thursday and still haven’t had the exam” never occurs. So the student’s argument does not apply to 4/5 of the actual conditions of the exam, and their fundamental mistake is to treat a conditional probability of 1/5 as if it was the total probability (1/1).

Then they work backward from a condition that is true only 1/5 of the time as if it was true 100% of the time, and not surprisingly come to a conclusion that is wrong. 1 does not equal 1/5!

Whenever someone introduces an argument with “suppose” or “in the case that” or similar conditional language it is very important to consider the universe of possible alternatives so the correct conditional probability can be attached to that case. If you don’t do this you run the risk of treating a conditional probability as a total probability, and missing the greater part of the solution space of your problem.

Posted in epistemology, probability | Leave a comment

Drug Laws and the Consequentialist Conversion

Thinking about how we sometimes try to turn a deontological argument into a consequentitalist one, I am struck by the example of drug laws, which take a different and even more bizarre approach: they convert a deontological argument into a consequentialist one by first altering the consequences of a particular choice and then claiming that the altered consequences make the argument against that choice a purely consequentialist one.

It’s even more weirdly circular than that in practice. Here’s an example:

“Taking drugs is wrong.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“If you take drugs you could wind up in jail!”

“How come? Why are drugs illegal?”

“Because taking drugs is wrong!”

Seriously: this is how every anti-drug ad ever made works. They don’t say, “Drugs are bad because you’ll end up living a life where your choices are controlled by some biochemical addiction” but rather “Drugs are bad because you’ll end up on the wrong end of some authority figure’s power trip.”

Think about it for a minute: if drugs were all that bad, would you have to make them illegal for people to not take them? If the worst harm an anti-drug advocate can bring up is the purely spiteful punishment the anti-drug advocate will give you for taking drugs, doesn’t that imply drugs are not so bad?

If an anti-drug campaign was honest it would point out that drugs can really fuck you up, and leave it at that. And don’t get me wrong: drugs can really fuck you up. My own drug-of-choice, alcohol, can and does ruin lives, destroy families and leave otherwise healthy people broken.

But this is not what any anti-drug campaign anywhere has ever done. They all end up with cops or teachers or parents confronting the poor drug-addled teen, making it clear that the big negative consequence of drug use is not permanently altering your neurochemistry for the worse (as meth does) or putting you at increased risk of various psychotic disorders (as I understand grass does) or increased risk of various cancers (as alcohol and especially tobacco does) but getting subject to arbitrary punishment by power-hungry assholes.

The real reason why drugs are wrong is a principled one: they elide our human dignity by limiting our sphere of choice. They remove capabilities and make us feel good about it. Imagine a drug that made you feel great, but you couldn’t read while on it. Would you take it? I wouldn’t. But to some extent this is what all drugs are like: imposing limits on our minds for the sake of feeling good.

There are better ways to feel good, and while I’m all for drugs used in moderation (at least the legal ones… I have a thing about obeying the law) there are drugs that are really hard to use in moderation. A friend of a friend took up smoking six or seven years back to prove how easy it was to quit. He’s still a smoker to this day, and the statistics say the odds are overwhelmingly high he’ll die a user. Sucks to be him.

Drugs take away our choices, and tobacco is the worst of all in this respect, with meth a close second (and with much higher and quicker harm.) Most other drugs… well, the worst thing you can say about them is that they’re illegal. And if that’s the worst thing you can say, then maybe it’s time to think about legalizing them, because there is no more significant step we could take to reduce the harm that they do.

When the legal punishment for using a drug exceeds the harm the drug does to the average user, there is clear evidence of a deontologist meddling with the legal process, trying to make the courts supply a consequentialist argument for their lame position.

When prohibition makes otherwise harmless street drugs like Ecstasy dangerous (and if you’ve looked into Ecstasy synthesis you’ll realize how easy it is to make it dangerous) then prohibition, not drug use, is the cause of the negative consequences. The only kind of person who could disagree with this is a deontologist who is wedded to the idea that drugs must be wrong because they are wrong, but who is so damned cowardly that they are willing to promote policies that do more harm than the drugs they loathe just so they can avoid standing up and announcing their principles clearly and openly.

Anyone who believes drugs are wrong because they destroy lives–which is a consequentialist position–must also believe that prohibition and the “War on Drugs” is far more wrong because they destroy far more lives. If on the other hand you believe drugs are wrong on principle, then you will be in favour of prohibition, regardless of how many lives it destroys.

Anti-drug fundamentalists are destroying far more lives than the drugs they purport to be protecting us from. The time has come to focus on the consequences of anti-drug laws, and compare the damage they do to the undoubted damage drugs do. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize how that particular equation balances.

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