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Timely plugs: Mandy Brown’s workshop, Abby Covert’s next sensemaking book, & new music

A heron walks along the edge of a pond.
Photo by Brian Kerr.

Three things to consider this week.

Mandy Brown’s speculative fiction workshop

Mandy Brown is accepting applications now through April 22 for the next cohort of her speculative fiction workshop, which will meet weekly from late May to early July. I participated last year and hugely benefited from the experience. Mandy’s pitch:

Join a small group of people to practice new ways of thinking, being, and acting through your work, using the power of speculative fiction. Each week, you’ll write and play with stories, scenes, and notions about what work could become—unburdened by the practical realities of your day-to-day—and then reflect with fellow workers about what that writing tells you about your environment, standpoint, needs, and dreams of the future.

One idea I took from Mandy’s workshop is far-fetching. As I received it, far-fetching is the practice of reaching far out into a desired or necessary future and finding some piece of it—however far-fetched—to bring (‘fetch’) back into the current moment. Something practical to do with hope, in hope. There are, and have been, many small things I’ve far-fetched in this way in the year since. All this to say that I’m grateful for Mandy’s hosting of the workshop previously. And you have my strongest encouragement to read through the invitation and consider applying.

Summer sf work/shop | everything changes
Applications are open now.

Abby Covert’s “Timeless Sensemaking”

I’m now going to do something very rarely do, which is to recommend a book I haven’t read yet, because it comes out April 16—tomorrow, as of this writing. The book is information architect & community convener Abby Covert’s third:

‘Timeless Sensemaking for Modern Sensemakers’ is a book for people doing real work with real people, where making sense actually matters. It borrows quietly from the idea of a spell book. Not in the sense of fantasy or mysticism, but in the older sense of a grimoire: a working collection of practices, observations, cautions, and tools, refined through use. It is written by a practitioner who has also walked alongside and taught thousands of people to make sense.

The basis on which I recommend even before reading is that Abby’s work is both remarkable and durable. And I want her to have a big first day of sales.

Abby’s first book is one I refer to weekly. It’s available in full online at howtomakesenseofanymess.com, which means I can point you directly to page 57. Her second book was also great. And I have high hopes for the third, which I’ll order as soon as it’s available tomorrow. Get your copy here:

Timeless Sensemaking for Modern Sensemakers - Abby Covert, Information Architect
A Spell Book for Sensemakers Sensemaking is the deeply personal process we use to understand complex, messy, and/or ambiguous situations so we can make

80s kids 2

Finally, my friends and neighbors Shannon & Jamie, the ‘synthpop spouses,’ are releasing their second album of 80s cover songs this Friday, April 17. They’re also on tour—Liana and I caught their hometown show last year, and had a blast.

My favorite track is their cover of The Human League’s Don’t You Want Me, a lovely-but-weird song that is totally rehabilitated by their performance. Now, you might ask: why music, I thought we were being all gloomy and serious and knees deep in the work until we’re done. Art, culture, goofy-ass fun: we have to hang on to these as the structures by which we far-fetch—bringing from there back to here—the stubbornness and other energies needed in our shared project of universal liberation. So get listening. Can’t wait until Friday? Start with Dancing in the Dark from the first 80s kids album.

80s kids
a 1980s synthpop joyride

Questions along the way

Looking down into a rocky beach at low tide, with a weathered wooden beam in few; a few barnacles and lichen live on this beam.
Photo by Brian Kerr.

The Periodic Table of Questions, ICA’s ORID, Liberating Structures’ W3, and more. How might we organize questions, and to what end?

Dan Klyn offers this Periodic Table of Questions. 20 genres of questions, arranged spatially from left to right as hooks (questions with bounded answers) and nets (questions with open answers), and from top to bottom on an index I sense intuitively but still can’t describe as concisely as he does:

Image of a Periodic Table of Questions, available online at https://danklyn.com/questions.html

This is immediately interesting to click around. Click on each for an example question. Dan has a talk and draft book chapter available.

Also, it’s immediately useful. You can provide a question and the thing will guess what kind of question it is. You can ‘iterate’ a question and it’ll give you restated versions of your question across all 20 genres. (Must be some ill-begotten LLM device behind the scenes; re-roll if you don’t like what you see; use the cut-up method to swipe only the results that are meaningful to you. Meaning comes from you, not the randomization device.)

I told Dan it reminded me of ORID from the Institute for Cultural Affairs:

ORID as an Underlying Structure for Effective Meeting Design
We teach ORID as the structure of a Focused Conversation. However, it is much more than that. Since it reflects the natural steps in how human beings process information, it is also useful as an underlying “meta” structural design for a facilitated event. Any appropriate facilitation tools can be used at any of the four […]

This is how ICA teachers advise a facilitator to arrange a ‘focused conversation’—one of several basic extremely valuable facilitation methods they teach. To design a focused conversation, you write up a sequence of questions in deliberate sequence across 4 levels: objective, reflective, interpretive, and (the most unlovely word of all) decisional. The Periodic Table of Questions has helped me arrange questions for one focused conversation so far, and I look forward to more. I do a good job of figuring out what the questions should be, but never want to slow down and get the wording just right. And one feature of the focused conversation is that if you have great questions in the right order, there is very little else to do. A group then brings itself to the appropriate ending point for a meeting or activity.

A simpler version of this approach, one which trades away a lot of nuance for being easier to do, is the ‘What, So What, Now What?’ (W3) liberating structure:

Liberating Structures - 9. What, So What, Now What? W³
liberating structures, social invention.net, microstructures, disruptive innovation, behavior change, collaboration, social invention, diffusion of innovation, strategy, transformation, heuristics, complexity science, emergence

W3 is based in part on the work of Chris Argyris (who I’ve written about before—

‘Undiscussables’ 45 years later: still here, still bad & somehow even worse
Revisiting Argyris’ ‘undiscussables’ as emergent, unwanted behaviors & as features of organizational control. Keeping courage, showing kindness.

—and whose writing and ideas I rely on in my consulting practice). The ladder of inference shared in the W3 method feels like a fast-and-loose alternative to ORID.

Simpler still is to ask a single question, my own shortcut method:

“What did you notice?” → End your meetings with this short, powerful question
The simplest technique I know.

When this works, it is because starting with something at the “data” level (as per the ladder of inference), or the “objective” level (per ICA’s ORID/focused conversation), or the lighter/topmost “net” questions (per the Periodic Table of Questions) is always enough to get a conversation started, and often enough to keep a conversation moving along, of its own accord, to its conclusion.


One last point. Jerry Weinberg had remarkable advice about not inflicting help—by which he meant offering known, or supposed, answers before someone is ready to ask for help. Over the last 20 years, this idea has made all the difference for me. The distinction between being (a) this dreary little (presumed) know-it-all and (b) a helpful colleague. Which is to say: people might not want the answer to the question you wish they would ask, but they might listen to your question if you ask it with kind curiosity, in the right way, and at the right time.

Remembering Christopher Alexander: love even for the smallest pebble

A stone walking path going up a gentle incline with winter foliage surrounding.
Photo by Brian Kerr.

Two passages from the architect and writer on the fourth anniversary of his passing.

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Podcast episode 0039: Remembering Christopher Alexander
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More podcast episodes online or in your favorite app.

Christopher Alexander, architect, passed away four years ago today. He was a direct influence on several of my teachers, mentors, and friends, although I knew him mostly as a warm writer of challenging ideas. The independent consulting company I ran for a decade was called ‘Different Chairs’ after a passage he cowrote.

First, let’s enjoy the crispness of Alexander’s writing. Here’s a passage from his first book, Community and Privacy, coauthored with Serge Chermayeff, published 1963:

People want to be everywhere. The reason they moved out was to find the country and escape the disadvantages of the city. The reason they are moving back is that the country is no longer there and they would like to regain the advantages of the city. But when everything is everywhere, wherever you go there is nothing tangible to find.

Second, we dwell in the inviting and clarifying nature of his work. This passage is from the concluding pages of his last book, The Battle for the Life and Beauty of the Earth, with Hans Joachim Neis and Maggie Moore Alexander, published 2012:

Again and again we are confronted daily by decisions, by the question, “What should I do, what path should I take, how should I approach this problem?”

There is no human being who does not, in some form, encounter this kind of self-doubt. Every one of us needs help or guidance in doing the best possible thing, in so far as what is available and practical, on the day when you encounter this question, in yourself.

Gandhi-ji, Christ, the Buddha, Aung San Suu Kyi in Burma, and the man down the street at the gas station. They did it for love. I can do it for love. Any one of us can do it because of love, and because love is simple and so powerful.

Love itself! Not love for this person or that person—but love for a small spider who has fallen into a tin can, love for the field which nourishes, and the individual grasses that sway as the breeze comes gently across.

The ecology of humankind is created by the fabric of buildings, by the human fabric of affection, and by the powerful force of our love for our Earth—love, even for the smallest pebble.

Try to be aware, every waking day and every minute, of the love that lies in your heart. The most tender wakefulness lies in your heart, and gives you the only realistic picture of the world. It can give you access to the ultimate reality. At every moment, remain wakeful and aware of your love for the Earth and for the Universe around you.

I showed up to some consulting work this morning befuddled, tired, and uncertain of which of several alternatives—all equally irritating—to pursue next. This inside the universal local/global backdrop of loss, confusion, and cruelty. Remembering Christopher Alexander’s answer to ‘what should I do?’ has helped me a hundred times over across the years, including today, right now. Maybe it will help you, too.

Thanks, Christopher.

Podcast episode No. 0036: Anecdote of Carlina

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0036: Anecdote of Carlina
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Episode details

A reading of two short passages, one from The Art of Public Speaking, by John Rippingham (1814), and the other from Ralph Waldo Emerson’s ‘The Comic’ (1875). By way of Wikipedia on the ‘sad clown paradox’ as shared on Mastodon by John Overholt.

More podcast episodes online or in your favorite app.

My beefs: notes for February 2026

A little clearing kind of in the middle of a grove of trees on a wet but clear winter day. Everything is slightly mossy and bare looking.
Photo by Brian Kerr.

Given so many big things to be angry about, let’s indulge in some petty beefs instead. I offer four.

A pattern: it’s the first Tuesday of a month, and I have a tidy newsletter drafted with a few useful links and passages, perhaps an upcoming event. This is the newsletter from the mirror world, the one I wish we were in. Twelve hours or so before sending, I delete the draft. It is not suitable to the moment we occupy.

This month, as in the months and years and decades preceding, there is much to be angry about. The future is here, super poorly distributed. There is enough of everything, far too much of it accumulated into the grubbies of the least impressive people on the planet. The Trumpy secret police runs rampant. The rest of the administration is busy too. They know they don’t have much time and they’re not wasting it. What they’ve knocked down in years will take decades to rebuild, if we’re lucky enough and obstinate enough to have that chance. I believe things will get better, and soon, but that they’ll get worse before they get better.

A newsletter from the mirror world

It is with this in mind that I chucked my plans to share the following with you—the beautifully laid-out indieweb invective A Website To End All Websites; then National Design Studio offers a rebrand of government services, a riveting discussion of the aesthetic overlap between the Apple retail experience and the administration’s impetus to ‘simplify’ public sector services (read: to obscure, remove, make scarce); and finally the essay Science at the Edge of the World by Cat Hicks, which had me pondering my own childhood trips to the Museum of Natural History in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I might mention that I’ve resumed the podcast, with short episodes publishing each Wednesday. I could write that newsletter, and I in fact did, and then I scrapped it, in favor of this one:

Beefs with recommendations

Given so many huge things to be angry about, I want to wallow in some small things to be angry about. Inconsequential irritants rather than existential threats. Let’s indulge, together.

Virginia Satir’s ‘temperature reading’ is a useful method I’ll describe in more detail down the road. A key step is ‘complaints with recommendations’, and it is in this spirit that I offer the following, my beefs, with recommendations.

Beef 0001: Public readings of that one Mary Oliver poem

You know the one. ‘The Summer Day’. This:

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

It’s a truly great poem. But it is totally overdone as the poem to read aloud at your gathering. We’re a month into 2026 and I’ve heard this thing twice already.

Recommendation: Other poems are available. Many of them very good, many of those also written by Mary Oliver. Pick up a book of poetry and find any other poem to read.

Beef 0002: Fake Viktor Frankl quote

Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space lies our freedom and our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our happiness.

There are several things I could say about this quote. A basic problem is that is a fabrication, invented in whole cloth—and pretty clumsily at that—by noted self-help clown Stephen Covey, instead of being written or spoken by Viktor Frankl.

A board member at the Viktor Frankl Institute offers this excessively polite explanation:

The true origin of the quotation is somewhat involved. To put it shortly, the author Stephen R. Covey used to recount that he found the quote in a library book and thought it fitting to describe Frankl’s views—but he did not note down the book’s author and title.

Recommendation: when recording inspiring or useful quotations, (1) don’t make them up, and (2) find an original source, or as close to it as you can. For example, see my own little quote barn.

Beef 0003: Ghost CMS, where is your automated welcome e-mail?

Ghost is the best content management system I’ve used in 30 years of publishing on the web. But it’s missing one thing: simple, automated welcome e-mail(s) when someone joins the e-mail list. Instead, there is a clumsy thing where it can try to send someone to a page on your site where you can put a welcome note. Guess what? I want the welcome e-mail! When someone signs up for the free e-mail newsletter (as you may now be regretting three beefs deep), I’d love to be able to send them a little e-mail saying: thanks, welcome, here’s a thing or to two to do to ensure future mails get delivered as you like.

This is such an absurd missing feature that Lex Roman brought it up as the very first drawback of Ghost in their recent content management system knife fight/comparison video.

Recommendation: Ghost should add this feature. That’s it.

Beef 0004: ‘Tells’ for LLM-generated texts

This whole thing. Lord above, I’m tired of it. For example, one is supposed to avoid em-dashes because they’re a tell for LLM-generated text. Then people bravely continue to use em-dashes for the same reasons they were useful in the initial, actual texts that tech companies stole and used to ‘train’ their things that generate randomized texts.

Ditto other alleged tells—title case at hazard, now? Semicolons? Lists, especially those of three items?

Here’s how you can tell a piece of text was extruded from an LLM instead of written by a human being: it’s boring as shit. It is about nothing. I don’t mean in the relatable, directly observational way that ‘Seinfeld’ was (at risk of dating myself here; remember that thing about decades-old web pages above). It is about nothing in the sense of referring to nothing, being based on nothing, an expression of nothing. No sensation, no memory, no specificity, no intelligence, no personality, no person. Nothing shall come of nothing.

Recommendation: Don’t read things that are boring. Stop reading the instant you are bored. That will help you dodge a lot of LLM-generated writing, as well as a bunch of bad writing, full stop.

In closing, I have to ask

What are your beefs? And what do you recommend? I’d love to know.