I write sometimes. I’m not a very serious writer, and I’m not trying to get my work published. It’s just nice to have a challenge and to use a different part of my brain. I’ve written three short novels, one is unreadable, one is borderline-readable, and the other is actually kind of OK. I’m genuinely proud of my one Screenplay, Marc X and the Legion of Benign Disdain. It’s a comic-book-style superhero story, told from the point of view of an insecure hero whose partner is framed for taking performance enhancing drugs.
To liven up the bus commute on non-bicycling days, I’ve put the audiobook edition of Stephen King’s On Writing on my iPod. I’m aware that Stephen King is somewhat out of fashion in some circles right now (I mentioned that I was making a novelist the main character of a story I was writing, and a good friend said “That sounds like something Stephen King would do” while wrinkling his nose) but until the best of my stuff surpasses the worst of his stuff, I’ll reserve snobbery.
One thing that has come up in his advice to writers more than once is that you need to be a serious reader if you want to have any success as a writer. He’s clear that he doesn’t read fiction to directly improve his plotting, dialogue, or prose. He reads fiction because he enjoys reading fiction. His prose and dialogue just get better naturally with more exposure.
I’ve noticed a parallel in the software realm, where people who wouldn’t ever use a particular kind of software tool, are in charge of designing and building one. The results are predictably lackluster. The end product is stilted, like the work of a non-reading writer with a clumsy vocabulary or a flat ear for dialogue. You won’t get to greatness this way, you consider yourself lucky if it works at all.
I’ve made a conscious effort to make sure that I actually use software products similar to the ones that I’m building. I’ve been doing some media related work, and whenever I get stuck on an interaction, I ask myself, “What would iTunes do?” Not that I slavishly copy everything Apple does, but I know that they at least put a lot of time and energy into their interaction design. If humans didn’t solve problems in the context of how other people have solved similar problems, we never would have progressed beyond cave painting.
Now consider the iPod Amnesty Bin at the Microsoft Zune HQ. I know it’s mostly a joke, but there’s still a message behind it: You had better not be seen using our competitor’s product, even though it’s a huge commercial success and generally considered one of the most well-designed machines in modern history.
And while the Zune is only in its second generation and has been steadily improving, it hasn’t exactly set the world on fire. I’ve only seen a small handful of them in the wild, while I see iPods everywhere. I sometimes joke that the Microsoft Connector commuter shuttles in the Seattle area should instead be called The Zune Express. It’s a magical, insular place where Microsoft employees don’t have to deal with the disturbing reality that nearly everyone on regular public transportation is using an iPod.
Can you imagine the scandal that would break out if you saw Stephen King reading a book by Dean Koontz? Or if you saw Michael Crichton reading a book by John Grisham? What? There’s no scandal at all. Just a recognition of the community of experts learning from each other’s successes and failures.
What’s next? I’m going to use as many software programs as I can get my hands on, and I’ve deviced to re-read The Shining with a critical eye, even if it is yet another story with a writer as the main character.
