11 January 2016

Entity-relationship modeling as a starting point for product design

It’s been roughly 15 years since I made an entity–relationship model, so it is with great surprise that I sat in a meeting the other day and thought to myself “This project needs an ER model before we can do anything else.” I almost asked out loud, “WHO SAID THAT!?” But once I got over the initial shock I realized that my subconscious isn’t completely full of crap (this time).

But let’s back up. I’m working on a project to combine a variety of different back-end services into a single product. As we were talking about it and the discussion shifted to design, I realized that before we could create user journeys and get started on the interaction design we first needed to understand the relationships between the different entities in those services. I worried that without that model, we’d get ourselves tangled up really quickly.

So I brushed up on my theory¹ and got to it. First, the obligatory definition:

[An] entity–relationship model (ER model) is a data model for describing the data or information aspects of a business domain or its process requirements, in an abstract way that lends itself to ultimately being implemented in a database such as a relational database. The main components of ER models are entities (things) and the relationships that can exist among them.

This is a tool that’s primarily used as the first step in relational database design. But I found it really useful for us to define the constraints within which we could create user flows. Let me explain with an example. Here’s a simplified version of the ER model we came up with for this project (using Crow’s foot notation):

Entity-relationship model

Each color represents a different back-end service. Here’s a subset of what the diagram tells us:

A team can have multiple tasks, but each task can only be assigned to one team.
A task can have multiple files associated with it, but each file can belong to only one task (or team).
A person can be part of multiple teams, and a team is made of multiple people.
There is a 1:1 relationship between teams, tasks, files, and the conversations about those entities.
Outside of those relationships, a person can be part of multiple conversations, and a conversation can consist of multiple people.

If all this sounds a little bit boring, I hear you, but here’s the power of this diagram: it ensures that whatever UI we come up with serves the underlying entity relationships, and not the other way around. This is huge. For example, if we started with the UI we might say that users can attach files to a task or project within the product’s main interface. But since a 1:1 relationship exists between Conversation and File, it means we can also attach a file to a task by dropping it into the Conversation view of that task. The relationships help us to come up with the most useful and robust UI.

What essentially happens if you start UI design with an ER model is that you create the boundaries of what’s “allowed” in the UI. It pushes you to think up useful ideas without the danger of coming up with something that wouldn’t work in the final implementation.

I don’t think ER models should be the starting point of every project. But in certain specific cases where many disparate products or services need to come together it’s proved to be really useful.

And now, on to journey mapping…

Ok fine, I read the Wikipedia article. ↩

11 January 2016

That Dragon, Cancer: a game that explores faith, hope, and love

Tomorrow, a game called That Dragon, Cancer becomes available to play. The premise is heartbreaking:

An immersive narrative videogame that retells Joel Green’s 4-year fight against cancer through about two hours of poetic, imaginative gameplay that explores faith, hope and love.

Earlier this month Wired did an incredible profile on the creator of the game: Joel’s dad, Ryan Green. From Jason Tanz’s A Father, a Dying Son, and the Quest to Make the Most Profound Videogame Ever:

Over time, That Dragon, Cancer became Green’s primary method of dealing with Joel’s illness, as well as a way for him to preserve a connection to his son, whom he struggled to get to know. In real life, Joel couldn’t talk about his feelings, leaving Green to guess at his thoughts and emotions. Joel’s reaction to radiation therapy was particularly puzzling. Children usually hated being placed on the gurney inside the giant linear accelerator, resisted the anesthetic, fought and clawed at their parents and doctors every time they entered the room. But Joel loved it. He grew impatient in the waiting room, and his face lit up when the doctors came to get him, more excited than his parents had ever seen him. Green couldn’t know just why Joel was so enthusiastic about undergoing the anesthesia, but he wrote a scene imagining the adventures Joel might be experiencing in his mind—riding animals made of stars, giggling and tearing across the cosmos.

It is an incredible story—equal parts sad and inspiring. This game scares me—I’m not sure I have the strength to play it. Here’s the trailer…

10 January 2016

The myth (and danger) of the ‘perfect response’

Adam Sternbergh breaks down The Internet Fantasy of the ‘Perfect Response’, that mythical one-liner that puts someone in their place, makes them realize the error of their ways, and changes their minds in an instant:

But the Perfect Response you cheer for and re-post frantically also tends to be one that (a) confirms whatever you already believe and (b) sticks it to someone you already despise. The Perfect Response is, in essence, not a radical new perspective, but simply a person saying a thing you agree with to a person you disagree with. It’s a kind of linguistic record-scratch, a perfectly crafted gotcha that ostensibly stops trolls in their troll-tracks and forces them to deeply reconsider the sad wreckage of their wasted lives. Which means the Perfect Response is also largely a figment of the internet’s imagination.

The problem is that the idea of a ‘Perfect Response’ makes us think that changing hearts and minds isn’t hard work. And that’s simply not true:

The Perfect Response, while apparently so bountiful in theory, is actually appealing precisely because, in practice, it’s so rare as to be almost nonexistent. It’s just a fantasy we yearn for, and to which we happily subscribe, because the hurly burly of actual internet interaction can be so imperfect, and frustrating, and wearying, and hard. The give-and-take of real debate can be all of those things as well, but it also has the attractive by-product of potentially leading to change, something no Perfect Response has ever done. Which is how we ended up with the phenomenon of the Perfect Response in the first place—it’s an imperfect response to just how difficult real communication can be.

10 January 2016

Norman, the boring anti-hero

Halfway through his day at work, Norman yawned.

“Oh no, don’t start doing that!” a coworker joked.

Norman chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

“Rough night?”

“You could say that,” Norman lied.

Norman didn’t have a rough night. Norman had gotten eight hours of restful sleep. Norman was just always a little tired.

That’s a story from The Life of Norman, a reddit thread where thousands of people tell boring stories about the fictional Norman’s boring life. And it’s fascinating. From Michell Woo’s The Life of Norman (and the Rise of Boring):

Now, all day, every day, redditors construct the intricacies of the life of this unremarkable man, mostly in 500 words or less. Reading through the titles feels like watching paint dry. Norman goes into his office building. Norman makes a steak for dinner. Norman receives a text message. Norman does the laundry. Norman meets a friend and they talk about how they both used to enjoy opening Microsoft Paint, drawing some squiggles, and coloring in the spaces. Life of Norman is possibly the most action-deficient fanfiction series in existence—and that’s what makes it so compelling to its creators and audience.

Why are people drawn to this? One possible reason:

After writing 40 stories about Norman and following his journey so closely, [Cameron Crane, a moderator of the Life of Norman subreddit] believes he’s drawn to the character partly because he’s an example of what he doesn’t want for his life. Redditors will sometimes tell him that they’re grateful for Norman, sharing with him that they’ve been depressed and stuck in a rut and that Norman serves as a wake-up call.

That’s true for him, too. “At the heart of it, I think I’m just afraid, afraid of becoming Norman,” Crane says. “Norman isn’t a role model. It’s okay to be like Norman, but you shouldn’t accept it. He’s comfortable, and the only way to get ahead in life is to make yourself uncomfortable.”

8 January 2016

The internet of all the things

In Why Every Gadget You Own Suddenly Wants To Talk To You Mark Wilson imagines a scenario where every single thing in your home is always connected, always listening:

As consumers, we’re caught in the middle of the convenience. Do we choose to side with Siri, Alexa, or Cortana, and talk only to her, despite looming bias and the risk of growing dependent on a single voice—a voice that could take advantage of us? Or do we side with a free market that gives a voice to every stupid overzealous object in our lives, however confusing that may be, in a world where ordering milk becomes a bidding war on a commodities training floor?

Which future do you root for? They both sound horrible.

This is the current situation we are in—The Internet of Way Too Many Things. We’ll eventually figure it out and make useful connected products, but right now it’s just a race to be first, although no one really seems to know first at what.

7 January 2016

From the phonograph to streaming and how we now listen to music

I really enjoyed Clive Thompson’s history of How the Phonograph Changed Music Forever. I found a couple of observations particularly interesting. First, on the “new” phenomenon of listening to music alone:

A curious new behavior emerged: listening to music alone. Previously, music was most often highly social, with a family gathering together around a piano, or a group of people hearing a band in a bar. But now you could immerse yourself in isolation. In 1923, the writer Orlo Williams described how strange it would be to enter a room and find someone alone with a phonograph. “You would think it odd, would you not?” he noted. “You would endeavor to dissemble your surprise: you would look twice to see whether some other person were not hidden in some corner of the room.”

This is particularly interesting when you consider it in the context of the latest trend: headphones as the new walls for people in open-plan offices. We went from listening to music together, to listening to music alone, to using music to indicate we don’t want to be bothered. Also see How Headphones Changed the World as a great companion article to the phonograph one.

Second, this is something I hadn’t considered before¹:

“In the age of the iPod, and the age of Pandora, and the age of Spotify, we’ve seen the average college student go from being a hard-core ‘rock fan’ or a hard-core ‘hip-hop fan’ to being a connoisseur of a lot of different genres, and a casual fan of dozens more,” he says. “It’s very rare to come across someone of college age or younger who’s only invested in one or two styles of music,” and they’re less likely to judge people on their musical taste.

I’ve written before on the tyranny of endless musical choice, and how much we lose in the age of streaming, but this is most certainly a positive thing. We used to be narrowly defined by the genres we liked, and now we’re able to dip in and out of interesting musical experiences we wouldn’t have been exposed to in the age of the phonograph and CDs.

These “man, I’m old” moments are happening with increasing and concerning frequency now. ↩

6 January 2016

An invitation to bring back your personal site

Buried somewhere in the middle of Will Oremus’s article about Twitter’s decision to increase the 140-character limit we find this important paragraph:

What’s really changing here, then, is not the length of the tweet. It’s where that link at the bottom takes you when you click on it—or, rather, where it doesn’t take you. Instead of funneling traffic to blogs, news sites, and other sites around the Web, the “read more” button will keep you playing in Twitter’s own garden.

I’m nowhere near up to date or involved enough in the Open Web movement, but I’ve been writing this site since 2009 and since 6 years is a lot of time to invest in something, I do have Opinions on the matter. Hence one of the first things I tweeted this year:

2015 was the year of Medium and Newsletters, but I feel like we should use 2016 to Make The Personal Blog Great Again™.

— Rian Van Der Merwe (@RianVDM) January 2, 2016

The tweet prompted some interesting discussion, including links to a couple of excellent articles about Medium: Matthew Butterick’s The billionaire’s typewriter and Mandy Brown’s Ferengi (thanks for sending those, Chris!). There’s no need for me to reiterate their arguments here, except to say that this move to proprietary platforms—from Medium to Instant Articles to now Twitter’s entry to long-form publishing—seems to be a dangerous threat to the Open Web.

There are the political arguments around access and inequality that are all very valid, but I want to focus on another aspect here: content platforms as shortcuts. One of the main reasons for writing on a platform like Medium or Twitter or Facebook, as opposed to your own site, is that it’s supposed to give you easier access to a huge audience. And this is no small thing, because building an audience on your own site is, as far as I know, statistically impossible.

Okay, maybe that’s being a bit dramatic. But I’ll tell you that after 6 years of trying to do it I was exhausted and had to take a bit of a break recently. Now, you could argue that the reason I don’t have a huge following on this site is simply that my writing sucks, and you probably won’t be too far off track there. Yet I’d like to think that there’s more to it than that. Building an audience is just really hard because people have to seek out your content, and the truth is that most of the time nobody wants to read your shit.

But I digress. The point is that publishing on Medium and Twitter and Facebook gives you an immediate shortcut to a huge audience, but of course those companies’ interests are in themselves, not in building your audience, so it’s very easy for them to change things around in a way that totally screws you over (remember Zynga? Yeah, me either).

All this to say that I think it’s time we bring blogging and personal sites back. Some of my favorite sites are the ones that give me a glimpse into everything a person is interested in (I think my current favorite is Josh Ginter’s understated and eclectic The Newsprint). It’s a way to get to know someone through their interests, and to learn a bunch of things along the way. So I invite you not just to follow along here as I expand into topics beyond design and technology¹, but to start your own personal blog up again if you’ve been neglecting it for a while. I’m really interested in the things you are passionate about. I want to learn from you. But don’t just do it for me, do it for you. Because it turns out there is an immense power in avoiding shortcuts and instead doing things the long, hard, stupid way.

Fair warning: I’m a little rusty… ↩

6 January 2016

Book review: The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins

Living like this, the way I’m living at the moment, is harder in the summer when there is so much daylight, so little cover of darkness, when everyone is out and about, being flagrantly, aggressively happy. It’s exhausting, and it makes you feel bad if you’re not joining in.

— Paula Hawkins, The Girl on the Train

The first thing you should know about The Girl on the Train is that it is sad. Unrelentingly, never-lifts-out-of despair sad. So if that’s something that freaks you out, it’s probably best to stay away.

The second thing you should know about The Girl on the Train is that it is a bloody good mystery for about 80% of the book. It’s fast-paced, and not as badly written as many of these thrillers often are.

I guess the third thing you should know about The Girl on the Train is that it takes a really long time to wrap up once you figure out what’s going on.

The last thing you should know about The Girl on the Train is that it’s a great way to clean the palate between two more serious books. It’s a good mystery, the writing won’t annoy you (too much), and it’s a fast read. It’s exactly what I needed after the heaviness of The Mechanical (my review here).

Oh, one more thing. It’s really sad.

Hollowness: that I understand. I’m starting to believe that there isn’t anything you can do to fix it. That’s what I’ve taken from the therapy sessions: the holes in your life are permanent. You have to grow around them, like tree roots around concrete; you mould yourself through the gaps.

— Paula Hawkins, The Girl on the Train

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