A few weeks ago Seth Godin wrote a post on his blog called: What 99% looks like. He used the example of a Turkish vlogger who had posted an interview with him to YouTube that received the following view count, up votes and down votes:
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A few weeks ago Seth Godin wrote a post on his blog called: What 99% looks like. He used the example of a Turkish vlogger who had posted an interview with him to YouTube that received the following view count, up votes and down votes:
A few weeks ago Seth Godin wrote a post on his blog called: What 99% looks like. He used the example of a Turkish vlogger who had posted an interview with him to YouTube that received the following view count, up votes and down votes:
The point he wanted to make was that many of us will instinctively focus on that one number: 76. We will say to ourselves that 76 people hated our video, our work, so much so that they felt compelled to give it a decisive thumbs down.
His message was clear: “Ignore it. Shun the non-believers and ship your work.” 76 people out of 108,605 views is not even 1%. And 76 out of (10,827 + 76) interactions is still not even 1%. You could easily say that this video has a greater than 99% approval rating.
I love this message, because there will always be naysayers, especially if you’re doing something interesting and unique. In fact, having naysayers is probably a good litmus test to make sure that you are indeed doing something interesting and unique.
But here’s the thing.
The YouTube metrics above make for a rather transparent platform. You can see that the video received 108,605 views and that 10,827 + 76 people felt so strongly about it that they wanted to leave a mark by way of a thumbs up or thumbs down. But most importantly, you can see that way more liked the video than hated it.
But what if it wasn’t clear that over 10,000 people were fans of your work? What if all you saw was how many people hated it? And what if those voices were amplified? That would be pretty discouraging, considering that many of us are already focusing on that number to begin with.
I can think of many instances where the fog is thick and we don’t have full visibility. That’s where it gets even tougher, but more critical, to “shun the non-believers.” There may be people out there who truly love your work and what you’re trying to do. You just may not know it, yet.
Tom Gardner and Morgan Housel (The Motley Fool) recently published a LinkedIn article called, Why Does Pessimism Sound So Smart? (Especially When Things Are So Good.)
Here is the gist of it:
If you say the world has been getting better you may get away with being called naïve and insensitive. If you say the world is going to go on getting better, you are considered embarrassingly mad. If, on the other hand, you say catastrophe is imminent, you may expect a McArthur genius award or even the Nobel Peace Prize.
Part of the reason for this is that we, as humans, respond more strongly to losses:
There’s clearly more at stake with pessimism. Daniel Kahneman won the Nobel Prize for showing that people respond more strongly to loss than gain. It’s an evolutionary shield: “Organisms that treat threats as more urgent than opportunities have a better chance to survive and reproduce,” Kahneman once wrote.
The behavioural economic theory being referred to above is called Prospect Theory. I wrote about this back in the fall of 2013 and made the argument that Prospect Theory might explain why NIMBYISM is so common in city building.
Change to our communities is perceived as risky. And in the face of these uncertain situations, we tend to place more emphasis on the potential losses (traffic, congestion, shadowing, and so on) rather than the potential gains (increased vibrancy, improved streetscape, creation of more housing, and so on). It’s human nature.
Having said all this, I show up here every day and try to make this blog a positive place on the internet. Sure, I make suggestions about things I think we should do, but I generally focus on them as opportunities. Hopefully that comes through, because I’m a big fan of optimism.
In yesterday’s post about the city as an egg, I received a comment basically saying that I use this blog to carefully curate my own image and that I would never argue against “dumb Toronto planning” because, after all, I’m a developer. I am going to do what breads my own butter.
I welcome intelligent debate on this blog. That’s why it is open to anyone who would like to comment. But since I’ve received similar comments in the past, I thought I would use the opportunity to talk broadly about my approach to blogging.
Firstly, there will always be some level of curation involved. That’s inevitable. We see it all over social media. But I’m a big believer in transparency and I try to do exactly that on this blog. I am keen to push the boundaries in this regard.
At the same time, part of what makes blogs unique is that they’re often personal. That is the origin of blogging. Some of my favorite blogs to read are the ones that have figured out how to combine a particular niche topic with personal stories. And since ATC is ultimately my personal blog, I am going to continue taking that exact same approach.
Secondly, I only write about things that I’m passionate about. I get asked all the time to write about and promote specific projects, causes, and events. But almost all of them do not get written about it. Because if I don’t care about it, then I’m not going to write about. It’s as simple as that.
Thirdly, I believe in positivity over negativity. I believe that optimists, not pessimists, change the world. President Obama won his first term with a message of hope, not despair. To me, that is a stronger motivator.
I’ve been told before that I’m overly optimistic and that my youthful exuberance will one day wear off. Boy, I sure hope it doesn’t. Because would you rather have a beer with someone who is optimistic or someone who is pessimistic? I will always take the former.
However, this is not to say that I want to be blind to the realities of the world. Last summer I disagreed with Toronto’s decision to rebuild the elevated Gardiner Expressway East along the waterfront, and I continue to disagree with that decision.
When I believe something is a mistake, I am happy to make it public and put it in writing on this blog. But as a developer, I suppose I have certain biases working against me. That’s just the way it is.
In any event, this is my rough and ever-evolving approach to blogging. As usual, I welcome any and all comments.
The point he wanted to make was that many of us will instinctively focus on that one number: 76. We will say to ourselves that 76 people hated our video, our work, so much so that they felt compelled to give it a decisive thumbs down.
His message was clear: “Ignore it. Shun the non-believers and ship your work.” 76 people out of 108,605 views is not even 1%. And 76 out of (10,827 + 76) interactions is still not even 1%. You could easily say that this video has a greater than 99% approval rating.
I love this message, because there will always be naysayers, especially if you’re doing something interesting and unique. In fact, having naysayers is probably a good litmus test to make sure that you are indeed doing something interesting and unique.
But here’s the thing.
The YouTube metrics above make for a rather transparent platform. You can see that the video received 108,605 views and that 10,827 + 76 people felt so strongly about it that they wanted to leave a mark by way of a thumbs up or thumbs down. But most importantly, you can see that way more liked the video than hated it.
But what if it wasn’t clear that over 10,000 people were fans of your work? What if all you saw was how many people hated it? And what if those voices were amplified? That would be pretty discouraging, considering that many of us are already focusing on that number to begin with.
I can think of many instances where the fog is thick and we don’t have full visibility. That’s where it gets even tougher, but more critical, to “shun the non-believers.” There may be people out there who truly love your work and what you’re trying to do. You just may not know it, yet.
Tom Gardner and Morgan Housel (The Motley Fool) recently published a LinkedIn article called, Why Does Pessimism Sound So Smart? (Especially When Things Are So Good.)
Here is the gist of it:
If you say the world has been getting better you may get away with being called naïve and insensitive. If you say the world is going to go on getting better, you are considered embarrassingly mad. If, on the other hand, you say catastrophe is imminent, you may expect a McArthur genius award or even the Nobel Peace Prize.
Part of the reason for this is that we, as humans, respond more strongly to losses:
There’s clearly more at stake with pessimism. Daniel Kahneman won the Nobel Prize for showing that people respond more strongly to loss than gain. It’s an evolutionary shield: “Organisms that treat threats as more urgent than opportunities have a better chance to survive and reproduce,” Kahneman once wrote.
The behavioural economic theory being referred to above is called Prospect Theory. I wrote about this back in the fall of 2013 and made the argument that Prospect Theory might explain why NIMBYISM is so common in city building.
Change to our communities is perceived as risky. And in the face of these uncertain situations, we tend to place more emphasis on the potential losses (traffic, congestion, shadowing, and so on) rather than the potential gains (increased vibrancy, improved streetscape, creation of more housing, and so on). It’s human nature.
Having said all this, I show up here every day and try to make this blog a positive place on the internet. Sure, I make suggestions about things I think we should do, but I generally focus on them as opportunities. Hopefully that comes through, because I’m a big fan of optimism.
In yesterday’s post about the city as an egg, I received a comment basically saying that I use this blog to carefully curate my own image and that I would never argue against “dumb Toronto planning” because, after all, I’m a developer. I am going to do what breads my own butter.
I welcome intelligent debate on this blog. That’s why it is open to anyone who would like to comment. But since I’ve received similar comments in the past, I thought I would use the opportunity to talk broadly about my approach to blogging.
Firstly, there will always be some level of curation involved. That’s inevitable. We see it all over social media. But I’m a big believer in transparency and I try to do exactly that on this blog. I am keen to push the boundaries in this regard.
At the same time, part of what makes blogs unique is that they’re often personal. That is the origin of blogging. Some of my favorite blogs to read are the ones that have figured out how to combine a particular niche topic with personal stories. And since ATC is ultimately my personal blog, I am going to continue taking that exact same approach.
Secondly, I only write about things that I’m passionate about. I get asked all the time to write about and promote specific projects, causes, and events. But almost all of them do not get written about it. Because if I don’t care about it, then I’m not going to write about. It’s as simple as that.
Thirdly, I believe in positivity over negativity. I believe that optimists, not pessimists, change the world. President Obama won his first term with a message of hope, not despair. To me, that is a stronger motivator.
I’ve been told before that I’m overly optimistic and that my youthful exuberance will one day wear off. Boy, I sure hope it doesn’t. Because would you rather have a beer with someone who is optimistic or someone who is pessimistic? I will always take the former.
However, this is not to say that I want to be blind to the realities of the world. Last summer I disagreed with Toronto’s decision to rebuild the elevated Gardiner Expressway East along the waterfront, and I continue to disagree with that decision.
When I believe something is a mistake, I am happy to make it public and put it in writing on this blog. But as a developer, I suppose I have certain biases working against me. That’s just the way it is.
In any event, this is my rough and ever-evolving approach to blogging. As usual, I welcome any and all comments.
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