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Understanding blogs

As we in the IndieWeb promote personal websites and encourage more people to write and publish online, and nostalgia for blogs and RSS is high, it’s useful to hone in on what exactly we’re talking about when we say blog.* Because, despite being a form of writing for more than 20 years, blogging is surprisingly hard to pin down.**

There are just a few truly defining characteristics of a blog:

  • Content is published in the form of posts, typically presented in reverse chronological order
  • Content is posted on a website, online, with hypertextual capabilities
  • Blogs are “self-published,” regardless of hosting platform, in that there is no gatekeeper authorizing publication

And yet, I think what makes a blog a blog is more than these technicalities; what makes a book a book is not merely “prose text, more than 50,000 words in length, on a single thesis or theme, collected in a single volume.” Printing off a long blog and binding it together does not necessarily a book make; for one, books are weighted towards linear reading — start to finish — while blog posts do not have to be read in the order they were originally published.

There are elements of bookness that make us say, this is a book. So what is blogness? From one of the many ‘yay let’s blog again’ posts everyone’s blogging about right now (which I enjoy), I wound up on a 2003 post trying to define what a blog is — but it addresses mainly the technical elements and the structure of the content. Blogging as a medium evolved out of the combination of technology and tools used; here, I’m interested in digging into how the writing and format are different from other mediums.

I’m a fan of graphic novels, and consider them a different medium than prose books; it pisses me off that graphic novels and graphic non-fiction are shelved with the comic strips at my library under 741.5. So I wonder: are blogs a distinct enough format to be their own top-level medium, or are they simply a hypertextual version of essay collections or newspapers?*** Where would you shelve blogs in the library: do they get mixed in with the books by topic, do they get their own call number as graphic novels do, are they thrown in with the periodicals, or do they go in their own section? @DavidShanske I’m sure you have an opinion here 😉

*So I feel a little goofy writing about what blogging is in 2023. But it’s Saturday night Sunday afternoon (lol), and I possess a blog, so here we are. Sorry not sorry.

FYI, I wasn’t paying attention to The Blog Discourse back in the 2000s. This isn’t academic work, so I’m not going to try to go back and read twenty years of other peoples’ commentary and analysis I missed — in classic blogger mode, I am doing zero research and opinion-dumping 😎 Feel free to point me to good examples if someone covered this ground ages ago!

**I’m also thinking about categorization because I just watched a video about how barnacles defied classification and Darwin spent eight years cursing their nature as he tried to figure out what they were, if not a mollusk.

***This is my wee knockoff of Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics, but for blogs 😅 If you haven’t read it, correct that stat.

What distinguishes the blog as a medium?

Blogs arose from a particular technological foundation, but I posit the technology alone does not fully encompass what a blog is. As a distinct format, they are worthy of consideration, because the medium a message is served through is as important as the message itself.

What distinguishes a blog from other forms of (online) writing?

What differentiates a blog from other types of personal websites?

What does communicating through the medium of blogging tell us?

What doesn’t define blogging

Blogging is so broad that it seems mainly to be defined by example. I know when I’m reading a blog because it feels like a blog — but what is it about the writing that gives me that feeling? Many of the categorizations we might use to clarify blogging don’t universally apply:

  • Blogs are often personal and written in first person, but can be fully anonymous
  • Blogs can be written by amateurs or experts
  • Blogs can be written in a conversational or formal style
  • Blogs can be published by individuals or organizations
  • Blog posts range in length from a handful to thousands of words, encompassing both short and long-form articles
  • Blogs can be authored by a single person or multiple authors
  • Blogs can be purely text or primarily photos or links
  • Blogs can be single- or multi- topic
  • Blogs can be published indefinitely or for a fixed duration
  • Blogs can be monetized or ad-free
  • Blogs can be run by an editorial team or an individual
  • Blogs can be private or available to the browsing public
  • Blogs can be standalone or part of a larger website

Technology enables but does not solely define blogness

The technological elements shape the medium, giving blogs the characteristics that make them distinct from other formats:

  • Composed of addressable, distinct posts: each post can be found online, referenced and responded to individually (sometimes on the website as native comments, but otherwise from other websites and blogs)
  • Order-irrelevant and non-hierarchical: each individual post may serve as an entry point to the entire blog because visitors can land upon articles published at any time, current or long past, and all posts are part of the same feed, not organized beneath “higher level” posts
  • Impermanent and ever-evolving: the blog as a whole changes as posts are added, removed, or revised, and links and images break
  • Self- and external- referencing: hypertextual capabilities encourage authors to supplement their text with links to their own work, forming networks of connected thought, and to references on other websites and online resources

As a self-published work, a blog reflects the author(s)’s or editor(s)’s premise unfiltered. This direct, decentralized form of publication democratizes writing and the sharing of ideas. As more people of all backgrounds participate in the blogosphere, the culture of blogging accepts less formal, more conversational writing styles. While blogging is of literate culture, it also draws on aspects of oral culture.*

Publishing online is an essential characteristic of blogs, influencing how readers interact with them and how writers can expect them to be consumed. Because each post is distinct and can be read and searched individually, bloggers cannot assume their audience is familiar with their previous work, nor their style; bloggers do not know who reads their work. Those factors inform the style of writing and approach to argument.

The capability of posting multiple types of content in the same stream is also a vital part of communicating with blogs. Like the interplay of image and text in graphic novels combines to form meaning in a unique way for the comic media, in blogging, different types of entries compose a whole. Different embedded media types within the medium of the blog — text, videos, songs, and more — together can tell a different story than being constrained to a single format would allow. Whether a particular blog makes use of multiple post types is less important than that those storytelling tools were available and the author chose not to use them.

*It has been way too long since I read Orality and Literacy to explore this more but it’s probably important. Help me out here 😉

How blogs differ from other forms of online writing

Newsletters

Newsletters are not just emailed blogs. They are blog-adjacent, sharing many of the same qualities, but their unsearchability, non-addressable nature, lack of public publishing, and direct transmission to subscribers gives writers a wholly different framework. Newsletter-runners can know their audience — they can access the database of their subscribers. Some issues may be forwarded to non-subscribers, but newsletter authors can primarily address a core, knowable audience. Interactions with their audience most likely take place one-to-one, in private, through email replies.

The context of reading a blog — a compilation of posts on the blog’s theme, or viewed as individual posts that occupy the entire window — is quite different from the reader’s experience of reading email newsletters. While an email is also viewed singly — in the frame of the email client — once opened, it is disconnected from the author’s previous work. Links are opened in separate software, disrupting the experience.

Emails are also more ephemeral; while it’s possible for readers to save them in their email inbox, more likely they are deleted after being read. Because older content is pushed down in a reader’s inbox, emails are most likely to be read soon after they are received; that also encourages writers to write time-sensitive information.

The technological underpinnings of newsletters enable the author to directly address the reader using insertable name fields from the subscriber database. This affordance fosters a sense of intimacy by likening the format to letters. Between the encouraged intimacy, presumption of a closed audience, and temporal transience, newsletter authors may be more willing to be vulnerable in what they discuss and share.

Social media

Likewise, an aggregate of social media posts does not become a blog. On social media, each post is viewed as part of a mixed feed with posts by other authors, the content stripped of its contextual connection to the original author. While authors can know their audience to an extent, on social media platforms the algorithm also incentivizes the work creators post by influencing the reach of an author’s work beyond (and even within) their “known” audience.

The platforms reinforce a strong bias to the present. Individual posts, especially older material, are hard to find and access. Responses are public and often immediate, encouraging bursty conversations rather than lengthy exchanges. The immediacy of the feed encourages replies in the moment, while a blog post can be saved and mulled over for later engagement. Social media is oral culture.

A blog forms an accretive, holistic argument

While the tone and style of a blog post is not constrained, I wonder if the approach to argument itself helps define blogging. A characteristic I’ve noticed of many blog articles is that they are not structured in the traditional Western essay format: they don’t state a thesis at the beginning.* Often, they are explorations on a theme, or build an argument as they go, only reaching a conclusion at the end.**

And if you zoom out from the individual blog post level, in a sense this also describes what blogs are: a contemplation on a particular theme in depth (even if that theme is “the author’s life” or “stuff I like”). A blog is a body of work. Blogs are composed of many posts, which stand individually and can be read in any order, and which collectively form a blog that tells a story from all of its individual posts. Unlike a book, blogs grow and shift for as long as they are online, each added post changing the blog incrementally.

*I once heard this approach to essay writing is more common in Eastern cultures but citation needed 🤷‍♀️

**Even here, I didn’t really clue you in on my thinking at the beginning of this post — I brought you to it along with my thought process of first identifying what does not define a blog.

What is the future of the blog medium?

I was chatting with a friend recently about the awkwardness of the writing in my 2004 blog — aside from being a teenager, it was the first time I was really writing in public and I didn’t feel comfortable in my voice — but I also wonder: maybe part of the awkwardness is that no one really knew how to write online yet? The culture of online self-publishing was still developing — is still developing. At only twenty years old, blogging is frankly still a new medium.

How do we want blogging as a medium to mature over the next twenty years?

EDIT: Further thoughts on the essence of blogs prompted by Murray Adcock’s response:

Blogs are a platform for normal people

 

Also posted on IndieNews

By Tracy Durnell

Writer and designer in the Seattle area. Reach me at tracy.durnell@gmail.com. She/her.

26 replies on “Understanding blogs”

Thank you for such a thoughtful article. Over the next twenty years, I would love for blogging to become more accessible, simple, and easy for all people. Would it be nice if older people had a web presence where they can record their history? Unfortunately, some of that history is being recorded in Facebook which is probably more accessible.

Replied to Understanding blogs | Tracy Durnell by Murray Adcock. (theadhocracy.co.uk)

I am a big fan of categorisation debates, so the concept of trying to define what a “blog” is (or isn’t) piqued my interest.

Further exploring what makes a blog a blog — which I agree I haven’t quite landed on yet:

The fact that blogs take the form of a building argument, not necessarily voicing their intent or conclusion immediately, but instead guiding the reader through the narrative to naturally arrive at that conclusion. I agree wholeheartedly with this take, but I’m not sure that this is the essence of “blog-ness”. I think that’s just how people actually talk when given a platform.

(Emphasis mine.)
This connects back to the democratization of self-publishing, leading to greater influence of oral culture (as you point out).
The word “given” here got me thinking — like the soapbox example, blogging is when people create and claim a platform for themselves. The work is self-motivated. No one’s telling us what to blog about. It’s not fulfilling an assignment. The things people blog about are the things they care about enough to spend their free time considering.
And because it’s not “for a purpose,” because it’s self-directed, a blog post needn’t fit a formal format. A lot of blogging really is ‘talking through ideas’ in text, in real time — the thinking and writing happen together. (Or at least it is for me, though I’m sure it’s not the universal blogging experience 😉) Even when a post is edited before publishing to center a specific conclusion reached through the drafting, a tenor of curious exploration or earnest passion often carries through.

That’s part of what makes a lot of content marketing so vapid and noxious: not only is it hollow of meaning, but it’s uninteresting signalling barely disguised as thought. It’s the writer regurgitating what they believe other people want to read about, or what they think will make them sound smart or good or clever. (Not that self-motivated blogging doesn’t have some measure of this, as all public writing does, but blog posts generally don’t feel calculated and perfunctory the way many churn pieces do.)

Blogs tend to be personal spaces (or places attempting to make themselves appear personal, as with brand/ business blogs) that give a person or persons a platform, but one which they want others to consider.

(Emphasis mine.)
This makes me think of imitation bees: the corporate blog tries to pass itself off as a Real Blog by looking like one at first glance, then once you start reading you suspect ‘someone’s been hired to write this’… A lack of feeling, an unwillingness to voice opinions, an empty ‘we’, a cautious and bland tone, become apparent when writers produce for a brand that wants to gain the SEO benefits of a blog without risking expressing any personality. They want to give the appearance of sharing knowledge and participating in community and conversation, but those are positive externalities to their goals of drawing traffic, building reputation, and ultimately selling widgets. I wonder whether I’m being too inclusive in accepting everything that claims to be a blog as a blog…

Stuff I Did:

Took Monday off work for MLK Jr Day
7.5 hours of consulting work (goal of 8)
6.5 hours of fiction writing (goal of 8) — finished writing the new scene and revised a second
Blogged about understanding blogs as a media format
Walked with a friend and biked once
One appointment
Went to Homebrew Website Club
Baked blondies
Been doing the Raptitude Field Trip

It doesn’t look like I should feel so tired 😂 Figuring out a new schedule with a lot of intense brain work is challenging. I’m trying to do some of each writing and consulting work each day, though sometimes my schedule transpires that I only have time for one or the other.
Reading:

Finished reading Wintering by Katherine May
Started reading Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin
Bought Saga Volume 10, Design Justice, and a friend’s holiday story
DNF’d The Mountain in the Sea
Added two books to my TBR

Website changes:

added photos to my recipes page and populated the recipes to try page with items I’d saved on Pinterest (fewer than I realized)

Words I looked up:

Expropriate
Synecdoche – tbh not sure I get this one
Landrace – this feels like a word I ought to have known considering my interests
Logorrhea
Chuffed
How to pronounce “primer”

This whole website nicely complements what I was contemplating recently about blogs.
Some relevant pages:
The bookness of books
Toward a nonlinear essay

You won’t find an instruction manual for writing a nonlinear essay in any of the pieces in this collection. And you won’t find a full argument for writing differently in any single piece, either. But my hope is that both of those things will arise out of the whole collection.

On the virtues of hypertext

In other words, the links matter more than the text.

Brown contrasts the glories of the hypertext web with the relative order of the the social media feed. The feed corrals the unkempt wildness of the web and organizes it all into a nice little stream, filtering out all the noise…

Replied to The Fail Whale Cascade by Luke Harris (lkhrs.com)

I’m bored of what I call “the timeline era”. Scanning an unending stream of disconnected posts for topics of interest is no longer fun, I prefer deciding what to read based on titles, or topic-based discussion.

I am a huge fan of RSS and have never stopped using it to follow blogs and webcomics. But lately as I’ve read lots of people talking about timelines, a question has been niggling at me: what does make an RSS feed* feel better to use than “the timeline” of social media? They are both streams of information, but I prefer RSS.
*by RSS feed, I mean the stream composed of multiple individual feeds — it is a little confusing that the singular and plural/collective of feed are the same.
Continuing in the vein of exploring what makes a blog a blog, I’m curious why an RSS feed feels better than social media timelines. Are we conflating our like of blogs with a like of RSS, or is there something about RSS feeds inherently that we really do prefer to other timelines?
I think it’s useful to dig into what elements of the experience make a substantive difference, so we can make better design choices with new tools in the future. I’m interested not in the technical details here (yay RSS is open and not owned by a corporation, boo it’s kind of a pain to explain and set up) — I’m interested in how we use the technology, and how we feel about using it.

What’s similar between RSS feeds and social media timelines:

Both present posts in a mix of content by assorted authors, each labeled with the author
You choose who to follow
The author of a post doesn’t know *you* looked at it unless you engage with it
Third party clients are (slash have been) available
It’s sometimes possible to group people/accounts (folders etc)

What’s different about RSS feeds:

The stream ends once you’re out of content
Blog posts are often longer than social posts and have a title
Conversation is not embedded — comments by people you don’t know are not interspersed with posts from people you follow (though you can often subscribe to a comments feed if you want to read the comments)
Social feedback, such as likes and shares, is not visible
RSS feeds are (usually) strictly chronological, with no algorithm or recommended posts inserted in the stream
Clients allow you to mark posts as read

How do these differences affect how we feel about the feed?
Maybe RSS feeds feel calmer because there are fewer posts to read, and there is a clear end to new content. Is there an expectation that what you read will be longer, with more thought invested in writing them? There could be a different “culture” assumed by the content, with less emphasis on hot takes and less conflict-oriented interaction.
But these feelings are rooted in what you follow: blogs are what bring a slower pace, fewer posts, and longer content. Does RSS still feel better if you use it to follow people on Mastodon, for instance? How does the experience of reading social posts change when it’s delivered by RSS rather than a social media timeline?
Is it how the content’s presented on RSS that’s different, or our mindsets when we’re reading the stream? Social media is oriented around threads, inherently interactive and conversational, while RSS is about taking in information, not as part of a community.
Could one part be that RSS allows hypertext functionality, which makes it feel like part of the web? On social media you have to post full URLs instead of linking text. Social media silos encourage staying inside the silo.*
*Tangential question: does social media encourage an “I’ll consume whatever’s fed to me” consumption mindset for the whole internet, or do people raised in the social media age still collect tabs to read later? If I opened the (mobile) browser of a teenager, would they also have 100+ tabs?
I think the title element that Luke mentions raises a good point: in an RSS feed you don’t actually ‘consume’ the content until you actively select it. Posts display collapsed in the feed (at least in the clients I have used). You can go through your entire RSS feed post by post, but the format of a feed allows you to pick and choose what to read, often based on a title (otherwise an excerpt). If you just scroll without clicking, you won’t actually read anything but titles. Some feeds only publish partial posts, so you have to click through to the website to read the whole thing — another interaction needed that puts you in more control of what you consume.

(Via Rach Smith.)
Also posted on IndieNews

Liked Better eats – Works in Progress by Nick Whitaker (worksinprogress.co)

The kitchen of 2020 looks mostly the same as that of 1960. But what we do in it has changed dramatically, almost entirely for the better—due to a culture of culinary innovation.

The change has come in the form of things we cannot touch or feel, but nevertheless matter: new ideas, recipes, and techniques. And that tells an equally important story: of how intangible capital has grown in importance in our lives and the wider economy — a less visible, but just as valuable, form of technological advancement as the advancements in tangible capital we made in the half-century before.

Ooh I like this framework. It’s not just the physical technology that matters, but how people use it and what they use it for.

The central thesis of Anton Howes’s Arts and Minds, a history of the Royal Society of Arts, is that the Industrial Revolution was driven by a new “ideology of innovation.” This ideology held that everything could be improved by careful tinkering and experimentation. And this ideology spread from person to person. People become more inclined to experiment when they see others doing it and succeeding.

It’s interesting to contrast the movement of advancement in cooking with the recent reports of stagnation in scientific progress and the boringization of culture. How can this mindset from the realm of the home cook expand to other disciples?

Can the internet create non-geographic scenius? How can personal websites fit in? They certainly played a part in the democratization of experimentation in home cooking and baking — there are untold thousands of cooking blogs, often with a rich transfer of knowledge in the comments sections. I think also of the fractures in science writing that newsletters are sparking — there is a place for expertise, but there’s also a role for thoughtful non-experts in questioning and thinking.

It’s not that these techniques have no antecedent in the home either. Rather, their popularity demonstrates that categorizing and naming is a technology in and of itself. Categories and names allow us to connect ideas and techniques into an easy-to-remember bundle.

I never considered it in these terms before but evolutions in classification totally align with advances in thinking. The development of taxonomy drove Darwin and others to dig more deeply into what the actual heck barnacles are. Without the concept of vitamins, scientists couldn’t pinpoint what prevented scurvy — and a misunderstanding of the difference between limes and lemons led to a resurgence of it 😳
I love the concept of a meta recipe — I have two cookbooks designed on this premise, as well as a “flavor dictionary” that lets me invent dishes that will probably be successful, at least flavor -wise 😉

We’ve built up a vast array of knowledge and technique well tailored to the home, ranging across cuisines, styles, and goals. It’s what Jonathan Haskel and Stian Westlake call intangible capital, all the stuff in the production process we don’t see: our systems, our software, our skills, our techniques. We can’t touch this intangible capital, so it’s easy to underrate. But a new method for making bread overnight can be just as useful as a new machine that does it.

This supports my recent interest in thinking about, learning about, and sharing processes.

Online videos are another cornerstone of this knowledge base. They are particularly good at conveying technique, not just in traditional terms (like knife skills) but also how a cook can prep and clean efficiently. It’s what Michael Polyanyi termed “tacit knowledge.” Many cooking methods can’t easily be easily conveyed in writing and used to have to be transmitted person to person, in culinary apprenticeships or within families. But with video at scale, the best of them can be transmitted to anyone and preserved indefinitely.

Truly, video itself is a technological advancement in cooking, even if it’s not installed in the kitchen.
I appreciated this perspective into the benefits of the food science movement because I think a lot of people put too much emphasis on precise ingredient quantities, when really it’s the process that’s most important.
The example he gives of “cut vegetables into sizes based on how long they’ll take to cook” stands out as my preference, but also as an instruction that does require a basis of knowledge that video can help supply. It’s a form of higher level content, assuming quite a bit of shared knowledge: sometimes I do want explicit instructions, but often I just want a direction to point, or a ratio or baking temperature. This reminds me of a dichotomy I really enjoyed in Naomi Novik’s Uprooted: the wizard is meticulous about following and documenting spells, whereas the witch describes her spellcasting akin to gleaning, where you’d describe the rough route to another gleaner but they’ll find their own exact path.
Improvisation is as much a mindset as it is a skillset. While some of what I needed to learn to play solos in jazz band was technical — what notes a chord represents and the common patterns of chord progressions — a lot was learning to be comfortable experimenting in front of others. Developing a personal style meant both learning from others by listening to a ton of jazz and practicing soloing as much as possible.

Tracy Durnell last month wrote up a thing trying to understand blogs, as in trying “to hone in on what exactly we’re talking about” when we talk about them or use the term. I just want to hit a couple of points here.
(Once again, I need to develop a workflow wherein I capture where I find certain links, especially blog posts. There’s nowhere in the Share Sheet action saving to Instapaper to include a note.)

I was chatting with a friend recently about the awkwardness of the writing in my 2004 blog — aside from being a teenager, it was the first time I was really writing in public and I didn’t feel comfortable in my voice — but I also wonder: maybe part of the awkwardness is that no one really knew how to write online yet? The culture of online self-publishing was still developing — is still developing. At only twenty years old, blogging is frankly still a new medium.

I’m not entirely sure I agree here. As a popular/mainstream sort of thing, “online self-publishing” still might have been coming into its own in 2004 but even just “posting to the web” at that point was like eight-years-old. Prior to that, there were Usenet newsgroups, textfiles, and Bulletin Board Systems.
In a followup prompted by a response to the original, Durnell bears down on something that I think comes up a lot when this subject comes around.

[…] [B]logging is when people create and**claim a platform for themselves. The work is self-motivated. No one’s telling us what to blog about. It’s not fulfilling an assignment. The things people blog about are the things they care about enough to spend their free time considering.
And because it’s not “for a purpose,” because it’s self-directed, a blog post needn’t fit a formal format. A lot of blogging really is ‘talking through ideas’ in text, in real time — the thinking and writing happen together. […] Even when a post is edited before publishing to center a specific conclusion reached through the drafting, a tenor of curious exploration or earnest passion often carries through.

As I said last December, what she refers to as “self-motivated” I deemed “self-solicited”. One of the things that differentiates, to my mind, blogging from social media is that “bloggers almost always are writing because they can’t not” whereas social “constantly demands to be fed either by attention or production […] even in the absence of a legitimate internal need”.
(She perhaps should be glad that she “wasn’t paying attention to The Blog Discourse back in the 2000s”, because it means she missed all the “A-list” drama.)
Durnell in her first piece notes that “in classic blogger mode, I am doing zero research and opinion-dumping” and asks for pointers “to good examples if someone covered this ground ages ago”.
My go-to for this sort of thing always has been Rebecca Blood, since she literally wrote the book (and edited a second) and her website still has a helpful list of her early writings on the subject—including Q&As with other bloggers of the era.

Source: bix.blog

There’s been a loose thread in blogland recently: people writing about what blogs are or what is required to make something a blog. It’s 2023 so you would have thought this would be locked down by now and we’d all have a firm understanding of what a blog actually is.
Manu starts by trying to determine what a Minimum Viable Blog looks like: what is the bare minimum we can get away with for a site to be called a blog based on the definition from wikipedia.

“an informational website published on the World Wide Web consisting of discrete, often informal diary-style text entries (posts)”

I’ve cut that short and I’ll go into why a bit later.
Tracy Durnell takes a different approach by asking what is the ‘blogness’ of a blog. What distinguishes the blog as a medium and differentiates it from other types of personal websites?

“I know when I’m reading a blog because it feels like a blog — but what is it about the writing that gives me that feeling?”

We get caught up in the trappings of technology but, as Tracy says, it “enables but does not solely define blogness”.
Bix quotes Tracy but extends the discussion. He opines that writing on the web isn’t new, just that the location or format of that writing has changed and developed. We can trace the history of blogging back to years before the “weblog” itself was the agreed upon nomenclature.
One point Bix makes is that blogging is differentiated from other online formats (like social media) because “bloggers almost always are writing because they can’t not”. This is something I’ve mentioned on a number of occasions: I am always dragged back to the blog whether I’ve spent time writing elsewhere or taken a complete break. The blog is a part of me, an extension of me, and I get frustrated when I go without it for too long.
Amit wrote about reading Writing is my Drink by Theo Pauline Nestor and the title of that book sums up what Bix is getting at. Blogging can be like an addiction, something that you can’t live without, something that grabs you and won’t let go.
To return to the earlier point, the Wikipedia definition of a blog continues:

“Posts are typically displayed in reverse chronological order so that the most recent post appears first, at the top of the web page.”

Typically, but not mandatory. My site is testament to that and it is certainly a blog. It also says:

“blogs were usually the work of a single individual, occasionally of a small group, and often covered a single subject or topic. In the 2010s, “multi-author blogs” (MABs) emerged, featuring the writing of multiple authors and sometimes professionally edited.”

This is where we start getting into muddy waters.
I always go back to Dave Winer in his 2003 piece that a blog is the unedited voice of a person. The blogness of a blog is exactly that: the sense of a person, an individual sharing their thoughts with the world. Not a group and certainly nothing that is edited by someone other than the author. If not the writing of a single person it is a collection, a gathering, or compendium.
I would even go so far as to say that a true blog must be a personal endeavour, not just a series of posts about a single subject or topic. That may be presented in a blog-like format but will not have that blogness.

What do I want the future of the Internet to look like? Last updated 2024 May 19 | More of my big questions Sub-questions What do I want out of the Internet? What’s a better way to use the Internet? How can I support the independent web? What are the social norms around blogging and…

Liked Television writer on fight with studios, networks: “We’re looking at the extinction of writing as a profession” (World Socialist Web Site)

The executives, the management and their attorneys have taken the Writers Guild minimum basic agreement [MBA] and they’ve gone through it with a fine-tooth comb looking for every conceivable loophole, and exploiting those to the hilt. Basically, these companies would like to view us as Uber drivers.

But when you go into this mini-room and commit to this time, you don’t have any guarantee that if the show does go ahead, you’re going to be on the show, because those kinds of commitments are part of the “old model.”
The companies are saying: we’re not going to do that anymore; we’re not committing to you. We’re not promising you anything. We’re just saying, come in, we’ll pay you like piece workers, give us your best ideas and then get the hell out.

This is all part of the same business perspective that rejects artistry, rejects art, rejects the value of teamwork, rejects originality. This is the mindset that cancels once-flagship shows before their final season because the profit margin’s not high enough (Westworld) and writes off completed movies for tax reasons (Batgirl). There is no respect for the human creators who contributed to the show; they got their money, isn’t that enough? As Doctorow calls it, this is the enshittification of the entertainment industry, and in this case of culture itself, all for short-term shareholder value.

The corporate viewpoint is that all workers are interchangeable, and they design projects and work approaches that treat them that way — from the siphoning of ideas described in this article to the Microsoft vendor system that forces workers off of projects after 18 months to avoid paying them benefits.
Chris Coyier writes of LLM training data, revealed by WaPo to include lots of indie websites:

Google should be encouraging and fighting for the open web. But now they’re like, actually we’re just going to suck up your website, put it in a blender with all other websites, and spit out word smoothies for people instead of sending them to your website.

LLM runners think of everything as “content,” essentially interchangeable within subject matter. Never mind that people’s patterns of writing and word usage are unique enough experts can fingerprint the author (forensic linguistics); they’re teaching the model how to write based on how you write, but if, as in their view, all writing is interchangeable, who could object to having their work fed to the machine? How could anyone have intellectual ownership over a mere slop of words? How could a blogger’s corpus of work be anything besides a payload of content for the content mill?
They see no value in either writing or information besides its utility in selling ads alongside “content” — hence the lack of concern over appallingly low accuracy rates in generated answers to queries. Incorrect information, at least for now, buys as many eyeballs on ads as correct. The written output of an LLM is a byproduct of their actual product, the bait that draws the fish, just as search results were always an undesirable necessity; they’ve been working to get away from sending users to search results for years by stripping as much information from websites and displaying it directly in their search results, beside their own ads. I have no problem with extracting phone numbers from a business website — I was going to call anyway — but I do object to considering my writing the informational equivalent of a string of digits. Writing is more than data; the information encoded in a work of writing depends on the language used to construct it, and the human who has created it.

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