Don’t build an app based on your website. Build the app that acts as if websites never existed in the first place. Build the app for the person who has never used a desktop computer.
Jeff Porter Word_works
Copyeditor, typesetter, designer of books, magazines and other printed media. Web design and coding are my side projects. wordius.com | @Wordius
Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger, assessing a Polish crisis in 1984, said: “There is continuing ground for serious concern and the situation remains serious. The longer it remains serious, the more ground there is for serious concern.”
You see, she said, missing all of the opportunities was just the start of a much deeper problem. Microsoft for many years had convinced the world that, in order to get “real work” done, you needed Office. In fact, my many years of Mac Consulting was proof of this. To my clients, Microsoft Office was a “must have” no matter how much I tried to convince them otherwise. And I tried very hard for a... while before even I just finally gave up. If a client told me they had to have it I just nodded along and told them what to get and where. They were as sure as the sun rises that, without Office, they would not be able to work, open attachments, write letters, anything. They had to have it. Then, she explained, the iPhone came. There was no Office. People got things done. Then the iPad came. There was no Office. People got things done. Android came. People got things done. All of those things that they, just a couple of years ago, were convinced they needed Office to do. They got them done without it. And thus, the truth was revealed. Microsoft’s biggest miss is not the lack of a smartphone, or tablet, or Office apps for iOS and Android. Like the curtain finally falling from the Wizard of Oz to find just a small, frail, man pretending to be far more powerful and relevant than he really was. Microsoft’s biggest miss was allowing the world to finally see the truth behind the big lie — they were not needed to get real work done. Or anything done, really.
GREENWOOD, IN—Sitting in a quiet downtown diner, local hospital administrator Philip Meyer looks as normal and well-adjusted as can be. Yet, there's more to this 27-year-old than first meets the eye: Meyer has recently finished reading a book.
They don’t call it venture capital because you’re supposed to put it back in the bank. No, fool, that green gots to get spent. The quicker the better. So while $10 million dollars sounds like a lot, it might only just buy a company 12 months of runway. You know, once the swanky office in San Francisco has been decorated and the 100 programmer rockstars, designer ninjas, and bizdev suits have been bought.
When I first started blogging, I told myself it was ok to post half-formed thoughts; a blog was ephemeral, reactive—the medium cared not so much about completeness as about timeliness. I still believe that to be true, but with one important modification: it’s not that a blog post has permission to be rough so much as that roughness is its natural state. Meaning, blogging encourages exploration and experimentation. In this way, blogging is the kind of writing authors have done for centuries but which usually remained hidden away.
My design chops are a direct descendent of my attention to the text. I developed a good eye for typography by reading frequently and noting when that experience was pleasurable, and when it was not. Eventually, I learned what differentiated the two, and I took strongly to the process of making sure everything I touched was lovely. There’s just no excuse for it not to be.