10 years ago today, I started Improve Something Today. I don’t intend to make a huge ceremony of it, but I would like to mark the occasion in two ways.

1. First, in the spirit of learning in public, I’d like to share 10 things I’ve learned while writing this site. I’ve been writing online a hell of a lot longer than that, but here—this site, this decade—is where some growth has occurred.
2. And second, I’m starting a series of 10 daily posts on the site—a series of topics I’ve wanted to deal with for a bit but haven’t been able to give their due. E-mail newsletter readers can expect a wrap-up of all these in the next newsletter, planned for June 2. In the meantime, check back to see what’s going on. Some of the most energetic periods of time for me were when I was posting daily, and I’d like to revisit that temporarily to mark the anniversary.

I am grateful for everyone who reads along, or listens to the podcast, or follows up with additional commentary or ideas. It’s my good fortune to know many of you directly because of our friendship or past and future connections, and it’s been a delight to have gotten to meet and get to know more of you along the way.

Spending a few minutes together in these words and pages is the biggest support a person could ask for. Thank you for that. As always, there are additional ways to support the site if you’d like—all voluntary, and most of them non-monetary.

With that said:

10 things I’ve learned in 10 years of writing

(No pressure.)

Thing No. 0001. Learning in public § sharing what I’m learning

I’m a perfectionist. I want to have everything dialed in before ‘going public’. But the outset is a great time to write about something, especially in a format as mutable as a blog. When I change my mind, I can write about that too. I can fix mistakes. I can remove the oldest, lousiest stuff entirely. And when I share what I’m only beginning to learn, others will share what they already know. What a treasure.

Thing No. 0002. Learning in public § sharing what I’m bored of

This is the curse of knowledge: the things we’re bored of are the things most valuable to others. Once I figure out how to do something, I’m onto the next one. That’s a big part of the forever appeal of consulting for me. People around me know how to do things that are amazing to see. The curse of knowledge is what keeps me from realizing that the same thing holds the other way around. So: when I’ve figured something out and worked out all the gimmicks, I gotta give it away. (Then I have a URL to refer back to or pass along to the next person who asks.)

Thing No. 0003. Learning in public § holding back on the middle

In between the previous two things: a big messy middle of learning, road-testing across client engagements, trial and error. This is my ‘apprenticeship to the truth’, where I take what I’m working on, perhaps somewhat Gollum-like, and hide it in some gross cavern for a while until it is ready to move along. I’m OK with that, at least for a while. You might have to come and lure me back out with some neat riddles. Feel free to do that as needed.

Thing No. 0004. A time-machine readership

It’s good to write the thing I, personally, would have benefited most from having read one, five, or 10 years ago. Also good to write the exact thing I’ll wish I’d written down in five years’ time. While I’d need a time machine to accrue these benefits directly, other people with the same curiosities and questions are out there today, right now. So I write for them, for you, and for me.

Thing No. 0005. Ignoring the numbers

Metrics, analytics, open rates, time-on-whatever. Turn these right off. Following the numbers has had a ruinous effect on the web. When I redesigned the site last year, I switched to this old-school mode where you go to the home page and read everything. Just scroll down. When you get to the bottom, it loads older stuff in. The reason this went away was to increase the fidelity of analytics (so that every little click, tap, and interaction could be measured) and to create more turf for advertisements. I don’t need those things. So if you’re on the home page you can… scroll on down. Start where you like, stop when you like. No ‘read more’ links, no pop-ups. It’s chill.

Thing No. 0006. Using media formats all y’all enjoy

I offer an e-mail newsletter because some people want to read it. I offer a podcast because other people want to listen to it. My preference would be to publish solely on the site and via RSS, and then, as the poem goes, to be ‘forgotten even by God.’ But giving you, my readers, what you want has only been beneficial. I’ve noticed that different people seem to follow along in different ways, which is such a delight.

Thing No. 0007. Avoiding social media or proprietary networks

I remember fondly the period of time when I’d cross-post things from this site as Twitter threads. What was wonderful about that is that people would reply to or favorite individual sentences. It was the most fine-grained writing feedback I ever got, and I liked it. It was super helpful in discerning what was useful and for whom and how so. My sweetheart Liana is a writer, and I notice that her ideal reader would be one who pauses after each sentence to recite detailed, specific adulation about the glories of those words before proceeding on to the next. (I think Liana’s writing is great, but even I tend to round up feedback to the paragraph or even scene level. Sorry, sweetheart.) We find ourselves in a strongly non-ideal world. Twitter is gone, the horrible blue web sites remain horrible. So I make the web site home. I can cross-post and promo elsewhere as much as I like (which is very little, and only in a few places).

Thing No. 0008. Making it easy to sign up for the e-mail newsletter

I’ve learned that if you have an e-mail newsletter, you have to actually make it easy for people to sign up for it. I’m not an expert in this area, but I know the person who is, and here is their detailed advice. I wish I’d done this years earlier.

Thing No. 0009. Finding you & not losing touch over the years

There are people I’ve met or gotten to know even a little bit as a byproduct of writing this site. And then there are people I’ve managed to keep at least somewhat in touch with over the years via this site. That means so much to me, and the secret is that I’m pretty sure I benefit from it more than anybody else.

Thing No. 0010. Residing in gratitude

I’m grateful for the moments we’ve shared together, for the links and corrections and ideas and jokes and whatever else. I’m grateful that even in the degraded state of the internet and the awful state of the world in 2026, there are fussy, calm, weird places like this where we can be in communication. I’m grateful for your attention, even if you’re just flitting past. And I’d be most grateful if you could take an idea or method you find here and use it to improve something today.

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.

everything changes

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

Abby Covert, Information Architect

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

⚡️ 80s kids 🕺