It’s something to do with another level I’m trying to attain in my career, a lack of balance, a frustration with not being able to do what I wish I could.  Many have tried to help me out of this funk, and just as I start to feel better, another monkey wrench is thrown my way.  My medical problems — I can deal with.  High blood pressure, take a pill. Leaking protein – take some chemo.  Fine.  But this general discomfort is hard. I don’t know the end goal, nor the path.  I’m horrible at hiding my emotions, so I say things I shouldn’t, things I don’t truly mean.  I hope the team knows that.

I enjoy working out of Washington, DC, and have long said that choosing between working with my colleagues by format or by subject matter, would lead me to choose working in person with my colleagues by subject matter.  I love the “Washingtonness” of AP.  But sometimes, the people I talk to on the phone need to be just a little bit more.  I come back from three working days in NY feeling…better.  I love seeing them in person, but miss my DC colleagues.  In DC, I miss the people in NY.  But I’ve always lived in an intersection.  After my recent trip, it would be a lie to say my ennui is fixed, but I’m starting to see a path.

I thought I would share some clarifying quotes from my colleagues, who put a bit of a skip back in my step.  I think they may be helpful to anyone learning a new skill, in any field.

“At some point, it’s not enough for me to believe you can do it.  You must believe you can do it.”

“Perhaps you are frustrated because your potential is not yet matched by your skills.”

“Asking questions about how every line works is an excellent trait for a technologist. But sometimes it’s enough to grasp the big picture, and let the rest come.”

“Are you afraid of failing? Because you haven’t yet.”

“Think of this like school. It just happens to take place in a large global news organization.” (#nobigdeal)

“I have never known you not to find a solution to a problem.”

“If you want to work on the weekend, go ahead.  If you want to do something else, do that. You have nothing to feel guilty about for not working outside of work.”

“Side projects are supposed to be fun. If it isn’t, why are you doing it?”

“Why do you refer to learning as struggling? It’s part of the process, no different than before.”

“I know that you don’t see programming as the point, but a means to an end.  But you know what? The journey is pretty fun, too.”

“At first, you will just feel like you are copying down code. But it will make more sense.”

Eventually, me:

“It’s just so hard. (later) I never really learned to code with music, it was just so, so difficult I had to concentrate…wait a minute…like it’s hard now…oh wait, I think I just had a moment of clarity–this is no worse than when I started learning Python!  I can do this! Too.”

And my favorite question:

“Do you understand this enough yet that you see how the structure can help you dream up new interactives?”

Not yet.  But that day sounds pretty darn awesome. That quote’s going on my desk.

My task last week?  Learn enough about Backbone (a Web framework that helps organize JavaScript, the language I use most often) that I could execute a major project in it due at the end of the month.  Wednesday: I had a pounding headache, and laid down my desk, almost in tears.  Thursday: I made changes to a file, and modified features. Friday: I added features of my own, with barely any supervision.  I nearly broke my face with a wide grin as a click made a shape change from one color to another.

And for the first time in years, on Saturday and Sunday, I didn’t touch a line of code. I gave myself permission to rest.  I visited with relatives. I entered a world where my biggest problem was turning down the apple turnover being pushed on me after breakfast.  I gabbed with college friends over pickles and corned beef at a NY deli. I rode back to DC, just…thinking.  The Capitol building glowed at me as I exited Union Station. I was home, but with a renewed perspective.  And it was…liberating.

I’m still in a dark place.  I don’t know where all this will lead.  I don’t know when I’ll come out of my current funk.  I hope that passing on what I do know, inside and outside my organization, may help me feel better. I don’t know how I’m going to meet my own expectations, which I’ve learned, are even higher than those of my workplace. Which is ridiculous — I’m doing well enough for AP, but not for myself. I always have been my own worst critic.

There is no wrap-up conclusion at the end of this post.  Just this: I’m in a better place now than I was on Tuesday, before I went up to NY.  And maybe for today, that’s enough. Tomorrow? That’s a question I’m not ready to address quite yet.

Explore other posts:

• February 3, 2011 -- PBS post: Sharing our work, does it make “Census”?
• February 20, 2010 -- Data Delver: MaryJo Webster, Pioneer Press
• December 25, 2011 -- Hacking till it works is no longer enough
• September 16, 2010 -- Journ curricula’s need for transition isn’t unique
• January 4, 2010 -- Reflections on Visualization Theory (Data viz readings, week 1)
• August 21, 2011 -- How to make a non-Flash intensity map in Fusion Tables

Goals are not the same thing as resolutions, and I know this.  I am making a conscious decision to set a theme which will influence goals for 2012.

1. Combating insecurity with talking too much.  I remain in an environment that is fantastically amazing.  I finally am able to name these people as colleagues, and look them in the eye.  But when I put on my “tough girl” face, I think I come on too strong.  Am I listening enough to others’ perspectives?  Would the reporters, editors, bureau chiefs pay me as much, or even more attention if I was less heavy-handed? Less “We need to do this,” less “I’m just the new kid,” more “I think this could be a good idea”.

2. Less chalking it up to being a newbie. I will forever be a student, and so I tend to think of myself as someone who has never really left school. This doesn’t help give me the confidence I need.  It also doesn’t help, when I ‘m not hitting conventions as well as I should. I have years, and I think, decades less experience than most of my colleagues. It’s possible to level up, and not be surprised things work.  Yet, I don’t want to lose my enthusiasm.  I’m still the person, who, when Jonathan explains some new tool, can’t stop herself from yelling “Really? That is SO cool!”  And then, I hurt my own ears listening to the aftershock of the screech.  Maybe I can be a little quieter. But I won’t lose that enthusiasm, and I probably won’t be able to tone it down much — this stuff is still really exciting.  I hope it’s just as exciting decades from now.

My point was, I’m too much of a newbie. This is not absolutely an asset, nor absolutely a detriment, just a fact.  I must not drag the overall work down.  The colleagues are more patient than I would be, but I must meet that patience with consistent leveling up.  Suck less.  Accept this: “I am no longer a beginning programmer.  I am at an intermediate level.”

3. Help others, but get help yourself.  I spend a lot of time paying it forward, and that’s not going anywhere, but I should spend just as much time getting the help I need.  Go back to the strategies of beginning Python, and apply them to new skills.

4. Don’t become a full-fledged computer scientist. This may seem counterintuitive, but I can feel myself getting better by leaps and bounds.  Yet, I spend my free-time reading up on closures, whereas I once would spend it keeping up on the news.  I long to do more of a certain type of work, yet I wonder if I get too bogged down trying to be an exceptional developer.  Continue to pursue what it means to code in the service of journalism, and try to strike a balance.  Problem is, I don’t yet know what the balance looks like.  Seek to find out.

5. More work/life balance. The culture at the AP has encouraged me to have more of a non-work life than I have in years (thanks!).  And I don’t feel guilty about it, because I give 200 percent at work itself.  Yet, I want more time to keep up a gym routine, practice cooking skills, visit with friends, go to the theater, pursue my other passions, and be a person, not merely the operator of a computer.  I’m the only one who can make this happen, but it will be a priority.

6. Less medical stuff. I can’t do much about this, I suppose, but I spent too much time in hospitals this past year.  People say it was impressive I maintained the pace I did, oh, and conducted a job search through chemo.  Hair is coming back, and I am feeling better than ever.  Moderation.  Take care of myself. Take those meds, eat healthy, get more sleep.  As my kidney doc says, take care of your body, it’s what enables everything else.  This year, for real.

7. Divide my intellectual pursuits, and read things that don’t relate to journalism, Web development and cartography. One thing I’ve noticed recently: really smart people pay attention not just to the field they’re in, but get to know the exceptional thinkers in other fields.  I hope to do more of this.  I will follow more diverse people on Twitter.  I will read more things.  I will try more things.  This means expanding my reading habits, and going to a more diverse group of events in the DC area.  This city is perhaps one of the best in the world for self-teaching.  Curious about astronomy? Head to the Air and Space museum?  Want to influence your designs with classical Greek art? National Gallery. I’d like to make better use of these resources, and bring them back to my work.

2011 was spectacular, in the good times and the bad.  It’d like 2012 to just be…very good on many levels.  That’s more than enough.

Explore other posts:

• March 8, 2010 -- Data Delver: Matt Wynn, Arizona Republic
• January 18, 2009 -- How much video is too much video?
• April 5, 2009 -- State of Healthcare Journalism
• January 1, 2011 -- Looking back on a year: What now?
• February 20, 2010 -- Data Delver: Chase Davis, California Watch
• January 4, 2010 -- My new perspective on math – it’s a journalistic tool!

I hope it will not embarrass Jonathan Stray, who I count as a friend, manager and colleague, who has already been more than helpful with sorting out the technical issues, and providing kind reassurance that this is surmountable.  And that’s in three days, since I started this “leveling up.”  I’d be surprised, except this is in the pattern of Ben Welsh and Ken Schwencke of the LA Times, and Derek Willis of the NY Times (who also dealt with being consistently featured on the blog, so it is what it is).  I’ve thrown myself back into learning, just like I did when I decided I had to learn Python to get into this world.  I’m at a level where I can pass on some knowledge, but somehow I think I lost that I need to be working just as hard on my own education.

Some thoughts:

1. I’ve long said the programmer-journalist label doesn’t matter, but interacting with Jonathan has demonstrated the power of a CS background.  I think that’s more of why I feel so behind.  To paraphrase Jonathan, what a CS degree gives you is the ability to understand common constructs in programming. So, while the languages change, their building blocks have commonality that you have some understanding of.  For the first time, I get why that would be very powerful.  Meanwhile, I play catchup. This is not something I would have considered if not for working with someone who has that background, and works at the intersection of journalism and technology.

2. I try to think of functions as building blocks. It’s a lot like news writing — keep the chunks short and digestable, each section has a distinct purpose.  Now, my functions look more like an outline.  Small blocks, medium sized blocks combine smaller ones.

3. Things are busy in a newsroom, and I love the adrenaline rush.  But thinking it’s enough to just keep all the balls in the air causes major headaches later.  MAJOR.  As in, I didn’t understand how horrific it would be.  Slow down now so you can speed up later.

4. Don’t underestimate the power of an external CSS file.  Changing too much CSS with jQuery can cause great confusion.

5. Put in more effort to ground yourself in why you’re doing it.  I could write code all the time, but I’m paying more attention to everything else in the DC bureau, so I can be the best citizen of the newsroom I can.  You’ll always be too busy, if you let yourself.

6. I’m setting a goal of commenting every line of code.  Much like how I try to go to the gym seven days a week.  In both cases, this doesn’t happen, but with some slacking, I end up doing things just frequently enough.  The comments are for others, but more to remind me of why I did something.  Also, a great opportunity to develop a vocabulary for discussing code.  Writing out “we add the thing to the bigger thing” really hits you over the head with what you need to learn.

7. Every language has patterns that are common conventions. Other people have encountered your problem before.  It’s up to you to figure out what applies to your situation.

8. Saying you can be self-sufficient doesn’t mean suffering in silence.  It is not letting down yourself, your mentors, your community and your organization.  It is a growth process. It is not a weakness to ask for help. It is not a weakness to tell your boss you don’t know if you can do it, despite every piece of career advice you may have been given, which says young journalists should say yes to everything, and figure it out.  It is a problem if you make this proclamation a day before deadline. It is a problem if you give up. It is not a problem if you dive into trying to learn, and feel reinvigorated and challenged. It is a different type of problem when you have a bookmarks folder with 250 articles to read after three days, because of your research, and suggestions from folks within and without your place of employment.  The kind of problem that’s nice, and life-affirming. That, I can handle.

Explore other posts:

• November 25, 2009 -- The limitations of SQL and Access
• February 2, 2010 -- Recognize the importance of journalistic creativity
• April 5, 2010 -- Data Delver: Phil Meyer
• February 22, 2010 -- David Carr at Medill
• February 20, 2010 -- Data Delver: Chase Davis, California Watch
• September 7, 2010 -- Hosting #wjchat — Finding the story in the data

I’ve looked at the code of really good journoprogrammers, people I have been lucky to count as mentors, and in comparison, my code tends to look like a jumbled mess of horror, whereas theirs is all…neat.  This isn’t about commenting, which I also “should” do more of, but how we organize our content.  It’s just like how when we write stories, we organize our notes and think about the structure.  But I’ve been so delighted that something actually works, I’ve slacked off.  Not to mention that having to code faster than ever before in my life means I leave out what I know I should do.

(My self-practice has also dwindled while I was on chemo.  Short story: Kidney disease comes back, I treat it like any coding problem, solve the bug, it goes back into remission.  Next?)

What does “should” mean anyway?  There are so many conventions.  I know people who learned CS in school got some of these through formal education. But why should I use these conventions? It’ s easy to self-deprecate — “Oh, you should see my crappy code!  It’s so horrible, and such a mess!”  Commiseration occurs.  But this is not something to be proud of. I wait for the moment when the “real developers” stop being polite, and complain when they have to update something, and tell me I’m too far behind.

Anyway, I’ve never been one to do things people tell me, without understanding the “why”? Why shouldn’t you repeat code in a project? This won’t be a surprise to the experienced ones reading, but it’s not because it’s some requirement for no reason, not some teacher trying to add restrictions to a rubric.  It’s easier to fix bugs, make changes, understand how your program works days, weeks and months after you wrote it, if you strip it down, make it comprehensible.

I’ve been working harder than ever before at my job, and I do love it, but I am bewildered.  I remember other mentors saying a core missing piece of my knowledge was  experience building “big systems.”  I arrived at my present employer, and I was told I was going to build big systems.  And I have, and I am, and I would not attempt it if I didn’t have the support of a team and organization that believes in me, in a way I can’t even comprehend yet.

Here’s the new deal, though.  Now, I need to build better.  Not be pleasantly surprised my code works. Choice words from a current mentor: “It’s not a question of if you can get the program to work, but how, when and if it’s worth your time.”  I live in fear of not hitting the when, and I think addressing how I code, will help me feel more confident about hitting those deadlines.

The concept of organizing code, I’m told by smart people, is “modular programming.”  The idea of breaking things up into pluggable, reusable pieces.  I’m hoping that’ll make it easier to comprehend what I’m doing, and why I’m doing it.  It also seems to work with the idea of Backbone, a technology I’m learning now.  I think I relied on frameworks like Django to do a lot of organization for me. Now that I use JavaScript much, much more often, that structure needs to be replicated and enforced.

If you have any tips on how to organize work more smartly, when crafting large-scale systems (and my large-scale systems aren’t really that large…yet), point me to examples, books, screencasts, articles, what have you. This isn’t the sexiest problem I’ve ever approached, but it is no less or more important than all the mapping work I’ve pursued.

The mission of 2012: Have the confidence to know I can.  Gain the knowledge to do it right, not just do it. Appreciate beautiful code itself, see it as more than a means to an end (awesome interactive stuff).

I’m really thankful for friends, family and colleagues who believe in me.  Without all of them, I would have given up on this long ago.  It is time to acknowledge I am in some intermediate stage of learning now, and that it is time to go big or go home. I’m not going home. I can’t help but feel I’m on the cusp of something big, once I figure this next step out.

Did I really say recognizing that I can’t do this was an option, at the beginning of the post.  Yeah, did anyone actually believe that was going to happen?

Mentors of the programming-journalism world: I’m coming at you for some guidance on this. Maybe I’ll even blog about it.

Explore other posts:

• February 18, 2010 -- Many Eyes: “Catalyzing the community around data”
• March 24, 2011 -- My Role at PBS: Datavangelizing to Local Stations
• January 11, 2009 -- "Alternative Storytelling"
• January 31, 2010 -- Data Delver: Tyson Evans, NY Times Interface Engineer
• February 21, 2010 -- Is a flat text file or a database right for an app?
• January 30, 2010 -- Parallelism: Packing information into visualization

Some questions paraphrased.

Can I embed something with HTML/CSS/JavaScript using the Layer Builder on my Google Sites page/page that doesn’t play well with JavaScript?

This is part of my usual argument of why it’s a good idea to host your own website.  Whenever someone does something for you, you have less responsibility and less freedom.  But…you can embed the code in a wrapper.  If you have some other space, you can host the Web page there, and then bring it in with an iframe.  If you’re using Google Sites, you can wrap all of your code in a Google Gadget.  More details here, with links!

Where can I find shapefiles in a Google Fusion Tables friendly format?

You can convert your own shapefiles (shapes of various areas you want to shade for mapping, like states, counties, etc.) using shpescape.com.  However, many already exist imported into Fusion Tables.  You can search publicly available tables for shapefiles you may want to use.  Some especially helpful examples, for state and county boundaries from Census data, are here.

Once you have a table with geographic information, you can merge this with your own table containing numerical data that determines how the various shapes should be shaded.  Use the Merge command in the right most drop down menu at the top of your Fusion Table.

How do I best organize my data to display on a Fusion Tables map?

If you’re using shapes like I was talking about above, you want to make each row for one of those shapes.  The shape should be identified by a name that is also a field in the table with the geographic information.  For states, make sure you have a column with the name written out: “Virginia”, not just “VA” or “Va.”  Each number you want to reference, or each category, should be in a separate column in that row.  Beyond that, structuring data is something I have trouble explaining rules for, other than each cell is a small cubby hole.  We don’t put two things in a cubby, we keep like things near each other.  A place for every piece of data, every piece of data in a place a program can find it.

If I’m using the API to bring in custom Google Fusion Tables layers, do I customize those pop-up bubbles in the Fusion Table itself, or using the API?

You CAN do it using the API, but I prefer to keep this bit in the actual Fusion Tables interface.  Go to Visualize –> Map, click on Edit Info Bubbles, click on Custom.  Then, you can add HTML/CSS, using attributes from columns in your Fusion Table.  These styles will propogate through the API, unless you overwrite them in the API.  As I see it, the main reason to do that would be if you want to write some sort of conditional statement.  Only show the line with this variable, if the variable is not 0…or something like that.

Basically, unless you’re getting complex, customize your info bubbles on the actual Fusion Tables site.  Same with coloring your polygons.  If the site can’t get what you want done, then move to doing it through code.

My philosophy: Code helps you get beyond the normal interface.  You don’t get extra points for making your life more difficult, unless you’re doing it to learn.

More questions/help/group puzzling also available by contacting me in methods listed on the right rail.

Explore other posts:

• June 13, 2010 -- Post IRE wrap-up + shameless self-promotion
• February 13, 2011 -- DataStories: How I Envision News Apps 2.0
• February 8, 2009 -- “You don’t have to reinvent the wheel, Michelle”
• August 21, 2011 -- How to combine multiple Fusion Tables into one map
• March 25, 2010 -- Self-teaching data and programming skills
• May 3, 2010 -- Note to self: Real world journo-coding lessons

But before you do, I’d also like to make clear that this ramble is not a comment against any particular professional organization.  I have enjoyed my speaking roles and hope to continue them, and I have been humbled to have been given the floor.  I enjoy the conferences I attend, and deeply look forward to them.  Yet, as I do in all aspects of life, I’m just trying to think about how things could be improved.  Not an attack on a person or an organization.  Cool?  Cool!

How do we push ourselves to keep learning? When we gather together as journalists, how do we ensure that we don’t just have a good time, and feel inspired, but that we *do* something about it? How can conferences help us all to get even better at what we do?

I’ve been wrestling with this question a lot recently, and as is often the case, if I think about something enough, it manifests itself as a post.

Conferences need to change — the sessions are getting complacent and easy, and they’re not making me feel dumb. That’s not okay. The Online News Association conference, which I enjoyed greatly on a social level, was a great example of this.

This will be long, as I work through this, but I think it’s something worth considering. To start, let me try to explain what it is I want from a conference panel. Because I’m not getting it.

Stupidity: The best feeling in the world

When I was a student at the Medill School of Journalism, several smart professors told me to try to get to a job where I felt stupid all the time, because that is how I would grow. I never quite believed them, but kept that in my pocket. I got a glimpse of that feeling when I was an intern at the LA Times, never quite felt it at PBS, and I feel it now, every second of every day. And I’m here to tell you that I LOVE feeling dumb.

I know I have a long way to go with my skills. I try to self-teach, but I never feel I’m going fast enough, and I feel as if I lack direction. Enter Jonathan (who, you’ll notice, has replaced poor Derek as the mentor who appears in every blog post. Doesn’t mean I respect Derek any less, it’s just a new phase in my career.) The point here is that I have a “check-in” call, in which Google figures just as prominently as Jonathan sitting on the other end of the phone. “How is that going to work?” he asks. I start typing frantically. The actual things I’m working on aren’t the point here; just know they are Complicated Projects that are, as Jeremy Bowers has put it, encouraging me to “punch above my weight.” And that, my friends, is an understatement.

One of my favorite parts of these calls is my emotions upon hanging up. I quickly go through the stages of pressing disconnect, having everything go a little fuzzy while I’m bewildered, looking at two pages of frantically typed notes, moaning and wanting to slam my head on my desk, and smiling and laughing to myself. Because I know that I’ve never attempted things this Hard, but I also know that I refuse to accept “No” for an answer. I will complete what is asked of me.

And I know that what I know by the next call will be more than I know now. I will move smarter, and faster, and better. And the next call, I’ll feel dumb about something else. I will grow. I know it will be okay, because Jonathan tells me there is an eventual mastery of this type of work when you realize ” a) I could understand anything that’s been built and b) I’d love creating in this medium forever.” So, I chip away at this seemingly insurmountable, yet finite, set of skills I seek to possess. And if the total amount of skills is x, after one call, I’m 1 unit closer to knowing all of x. It’s the best feeling in the world. Maybe only the geeky journos get it, but it’s beautiful, in its way. And it’s a blast!

But I’m lucky. I have a Jonathan, and a Julian, and a Feilding, and a Shazna, and hundreds of reporters and editors, and a whole team of other cartographers, designers, developers, every resource I could want. And before AP, I had a Ben and a Ken at the LA Times, and through it all, I had a Derek and a community called NICAR. But I remember being a student, when the community at large was all I had. I looked forward to conferences for months, not because I was presenting, not because I focused on paying it forward, but because it was my one opportunity to hound people with questions.

I didn’t know what I needed to know, but I knew I could show up to sessions, particularly at NICAR, and I would learn tangible skills that would help me be better at my job the next day. I didn’t have to come up with the questions — not yet.

To reach my next level, I want that again. I want to go to a conference, find smart people giving a session, and have them teach me cool stuff I couldn’t have dreamed of asking. All too often, I see these people come to conferences. They’ll show off cool things, the better ones will give “pep talks” inspiring you to do cool stuff, but I want tangible info. I want, as one friend puts it “to eat their brains.” (That sounds creepier than the spirit in which it’s meant.) The pep talks are fun, peppered with jokes. But it’s kind of like guilty pleasure TV. I enjoy watching The Simpsons, it makes me laugh (well, more the older episodes), but it doesn’t sustain me. Empty calories, as it were.

Give me the power, and I’ll give you tangible stuff, I swear!

So, when conference organizers make the mistake of giving me the floor, I give people what I’ve relished all along. I build things, and show how you would build them. I provide links, tutorials, everything, so you can take it back to your newsroom. And yeah, I dare to put codes on slides, and I’m too lame to pepper in awesome jokes. Different people will get different things out of it. And that’s more than okay. Because hopefully on some level, it made you feel stupid.

I mean that in the best possible way. Because, that’s the best feeling I know how to give. And if you had no clue what I was talking about at ONA, and the code freaked you out, I’m not sorry. Because I can’t make it simple. It’s hard. And you’re going to have to face it, maybe not do it yourself, but work with people who do. You’re going to have to understand it’s not magic.

Those of us coming into the field now, how long do we think not knowing how to manipulate the world in which we live is going to last? Can we get away with not coding in five years? Ten? Forty? I don’t know. I do know we’re going to have to know more than we know now, or someone else will. Saying an audience isn’t technical enough is just prolonging the inevitable.

Asking the experts how to get technical

As is usual, I’m probably being naive about my perspective. So, I decided to get the opinions of three journocoders who I respect deeply, and who give presentations that make my heart sing. And because this is The Community That Pays It Forward, they were kind enough to answer, and allow me to quote their responses. I’ll be discussing the thoughts of Jeremy Bowers, a developer at the Washington Post who uses funny gifs, fast talking and crazy enthusiasm to make his point; Matt Waite, a journalism professor and a former news developer from the St. Pete Times, who is also the most down-to-earth Pulitzer Prize winner I know, and the funniest; and of course, Derek Wilis, who needs no introduction to my two readers, except to say that his presentations are so good he convinced me to go into data journalism/Web development as a career, so it was pretty persuasive.  He also works as a Web developer for the New York Times, when he’s not too busy answering my questions.

All three of these mentors approach presentations from a more general perspective than how I’ve been thinking about. Bowers: “I was an All-American policy debater in college. My approach to presentations, then, is very similar to my approach to policy debate. I’m more or less constantly doing research/developing policy opinions in daily conversation. The presentation is just the coalescing of my latest beliefs/arguments — albeit with more funny gifs.” Pass on a general sense of what you’re thinking about, and make it more appealing. “I wouldn’t recommend this for everyone, but what usually works for me is to develop a broad outline and then during the session, choose the points that seem to fit the moment and talk about them,” wrote Derek Willis. It won’t be too overwhelming if you think about who you are talking to, I suppose.

The power of humor

I’ve been underselling the power of humor. Bowers pointed me to a study from the Journal of Experimental Psychology which says that humor improves retention. He had some great funny meme photos during his ONA talk, which had Heather Billings and I in hysterical laughter (which is all too audible since we were next to the camera doing the livestream). Bowers told me it’s a lot of payoff, for not a lot of effort. “Those funny pictures I made took about 15-20 minutes with a crappy online tool, but were worth their weight in gold. Just because you’re serious about what you do doesn’t mean you have to be serious in your presentation.” Waite had a similar sentiment, and looks at the general. ” I usually think about how can I entertain and inform, giving people something to think about and something to take home,” he wrote. Waite says he keeps the eck to titles and images, which helps with avoiding getting too geeky. I would add, it also lets Matt Waite be, well, Matt Waite, and have the freedom to amuse us all.

Can we get geeky? Please?

But here’s the issue I really wrestle with: How do we avoid getting too technical? How technical can we get? According to Bowers, not very — panels are suited to a more general theme. “My general feeling: Presentations can rarely spread detail, but excel for the transmission of broad memes and infectious ideology. Memes and ideology aren’t technical, so focusing on those can help to avoid the eye-glazingly complex presentation.”

It doesn’t seem to be a fear of showing people the guts of what we do, but panels are just a poor format. Waite calls it like it is: “A slide deck and a panel discussion is a really, really crappy way to convey technical information.” Fair enough. Then, maybe we need more options that aren’t panels.

But I’ve seen Willis get geeky, at least in lightning talks, if not panels. And he got technical enough in class, in those three-hour lectures. I see the issue, I ate it up, but others didn’t. As much as I looked forward to that class all week, some dreaded it. Willis’ advice is as matter-of-fact as his presentation style that works so well. “I think the way to do it is to have very clear expectations of what the session should cover, and try hard to stick to them. Not rocket science, but just think about the audience, the time you have and the general atmosphere, and go from there.”

Whether we stay general or start to get geeky, we’re not getting geeky enough, often enough. My boss, Jonathan Stray, has commented to me that what’s geeky for journalist has nothing on the geekiness of the technology sphere. And we can’t get away with saying it’s not our problem.  Tech will be all of our problem, if it isn’t already.

Bowers nails the problem on the head, though. “Our community is getting better and better at “Introduction to X” sessions and blog posts, but there’s a big gap between that and proficiency. In short: There’s missing support for the middle-class of news developers. This is a particularly glaring gap, because it’s the most difficult part of the incubation of the adolescent coder.” That’s a piece of it, but it’s not just the middle class, I argue, but we all need to understand the tangible nature of what we are, or aren’t, willing to learn.

Where can we go from here?

I hear all that, and it makes good sense. I don’t know where I stand right now. I know I want more, as a speaker and as a conference attendee. I want ONA to not just be a social experience for me, but push the limits of what I know, and give me tangible advice I can take to my newsroom.  More than a pep talk, more than a demo room.  And as much as I love conferences, we’re not there.  It’s not just about ONA, although I started thinking about the issue because of ONA.

Since it’s keeping me up at night, now it’s your problem, too. And if you have any thoughts, please ping me on Twitter, email or in the comments. Did you attend my presentation at ONA? Was it too much? Not enough? What journalism conference presentations have you attended and found most useful? I’d certainly appreciate all the advice I can get.

I don’t know what I’m doing, when it comes to doing the work, or teaching others about the work. All I do know is what I like to tell Jonathan: “I don’t know now, but I’ll try to know soon.”

Explore other posts:

• August 17, 2010 -- Fighting for my life: The largest battle I ever won
• February 1, 2010 -- Relating zip codes and geography using Processing
• January 25, 2010 -- Keep it subtle, stupid: Differentiating data values in visualizations
• February 13, 2010 -- Data Delver: David Donald, Center for Public Integrity
• March 26, 2011 -- My (quickly formed) vision for a journ-prog curriculum
• November 23, 2010 -- Join the data convo at PBS NewsNav

As many people know, I like to spend a lot of my free time “paying it forward”. It’s a mentality passed down to me by my mentors, others helped me, so I will help others. Also, teaching has proven to be a great way to cement my knowledge. I had the privilege of speaking about interactive charting, and even presented code on slides. Maybe it wasn’t the most brilliant presentation technique, maybe I scared the hell out of some people, and I know for a fact some people were inspired to do more coding because of it. My dear friend Heather Billings and I proposed an unconference to talk about how to learn Django (and programming.) We didn’t get enough votes to get in, but that didn’t actually phase us — we gave our session anyway in a hallway. People sat cross-legged on the carpet. It was so much like my coding adventure — ignore the people who say you can’t do it, buck the status quo.

I lost my voice holding office hour after office hour in the hallway, going over Django structure, Google Maps, how I got where I got so far, what tools I use for social media, people asked, and I answered. I found out what life was like in other orgs, many of which are now customers of my new organization. So, I ask what’s going on in your newsrooms, not just out of curiosity, but to see if there’s a way we can think about serving you better. It’s fun, and it’s geeky, and it’s dangerous.

Because, you see, it’s all too easy to think I know it all. I understand the concepts in the sessions, I pass on knowledge. People ask where I work, and I say “The Associated Press” and I get that look. You know the look. That impressed, you-did-something-right-and-you-look-really-young, something. That look of expectation, as if I must be on the cusp of..something. It’s addicting, and it’s all wrong.

Because, again, you see — I go back to my newsroom. I go through a code review, and I’m reminded of the reality, which I must remember every step of the way, I know nothing. In describing my job to someone, “I spend all day frantically trying to keep up with the mental pace of Jonathan [Stray] and Julian [Burgess].” I make big tools, I help reporters format data. Yet, I still don’t know one percent of one hundredth of what every reporter I work with knows, I still haven’t met 10 percent of the reporters in the bureau. There will always be more infrastructure, and there’s this delicate balance I walk. But I don’t know where the dividing line is, I don’t know my end goal. I’m expected to get to know everyone, and come up with ideas, and I’m expected to stay focused. I have big lofty ideals, and places I want journalism to be, and I don’t want to get there in a year, nor in a month, nor in a week. To quote Veruca Salt of Willy Wonka, I want it now!

I rely on excellent managers to gently guide me. Phrases like “Are you sure about that?” “Do you really think that’s how long it will take?” “While that’s one idea…” or “How can I help you do this better?” pepper my days.

When I spend too much time on development, I worry I’m not enough of a journalist. And vice versa. And mentor Jonathan will ask me, “Why does this identity matter so much?” and as is often the case, I don’t have the answer, to Jonathan’s Big Questions that make me think.

I know I’m not maintaining the status quo, but I know my knowledge isn’t where I wish I were. And people tell me they hired me on the basis of what I can do, what I will become. But how will I get there, to a place I can’t even imagine? Given every resource I could want, what if I don’t live up to the expectations I strive for?

I remember there will always be more code to learn, but that’s not enough. Someone in the bureau tells me the beauty of the journo-programmer is not the news experience they have, but the news mindset that makes him or her who he or she is. I must not get caught up in learning all the tools, must learn to prioritize and delegate. Must get better at sourcing my newsroom. Must change the way we tell our stories — looking at big and little pictures. Must gently push for cultural change. Must not get intimidated by where I am, must not get overwhelmed by where I want to be.

Because the world of ONA is beautiful, but pie in the sky. The world of actual journalism is an exercise in getting stuff done. The intersection of the two is where I try to live.

I’ve not been a believer in making tools, wanting to craft stories, not the infrastructure that tells them. I will, of course, do whatever I am asked, for that elusive paycheck. But after conversations at ONA, and with Jonathan, and other mentor Derek Willis, I have finally been convinced. Jonathan refers to infrastructure as helping to make ALL the interactives (I’m paraphrasing there). While in the long term, I seek to be careful, and integrate more with helping reporters tell stories in interactive ways, the infrastructure is how we get there. Not only do I understand that now, but I’m excited about how it will change what we do, and the coding skills will bring to bear. In sum, I only spent a whole day wondering if I was going down the wrong path.

TL;DR: I’m thankful I have mentors who are quick enough to help, and good enough at persuasion, that my existential crises last less than 24 hours. I say it at least once a day: love, love, love my job!

I’ve got something new to learn tomorrow!

Explore other posts:

• January 16, 2012 -- A pilgramage to NY headquarters
• September 16, 2010 -- Journ curricula’s need for transition isn’t unique
• January 18, 2009 -- How much video is too much video?
• November 23, 2010 -- Join the data convo at PBS NewsNav
• October 16, 2010 -- We must understand our news content as data
• February 28, 2011 -- Why I really love NICAR (and the New York Times)

Some of these questions I can take back to my colleagues (why didn’t that jQuery function work?), some I can only reconcile with myself (will I ever feel competent enough in all of this?) and some, we’re all working toward the answer to every day (what will be the next big thing? what should we be doing? what is the meaning of life — and journalism — and information dissemination?)

Meanwhile, Jonathan Stray — who you should really know if you are anyone who cares about journalism and programming and how we tell stories in the modern era (google it) — is my official supervisor. I always feel somewhat sorry for anyone in that position (people like Tom Davidson of PBS and Dan Gaines and Ben Welsh of the LA Times will sympathize), but it also places him squarely in the succession of mentors who I know will change my life every day — following people like Derek Willis and the aforementioned Ben. Every conversation with him imparts more wisdom. The first day I was in New York, we were talking about how long it takes someone to truly be a great programmer — Jonathan mentioned an article that said about 10 years. That means I’ve got 8 more to go, but I actually think it’s a lifetime. He and other developers take the time to explain parts of back-end architecture I don’t quite comprehend, and then at the same time, he has great ideas about the front-end style of Web pages. He listens to my rants of what’s not working, and calmly responds, actually understanding what I’m trying to express from both a programmatic and journalistic perspective. Fantastic.

This means I have a supervisor whose expectations are: realistic enough to be productive, tough enough that I’m constantly challenged, open enough that I have the freedom to pursue my interests, and strict enough that it keeps my “I want to do it all!” attitude in check. I know that’s a rarity, and I’d be more nervous about my myriad weaknesses if I didn’t have that caliber of support from Jonathan and across the board.

I worried I wouldn’t be able to code fast enough. It’s still a concern. Some of my projects will be in HTML/CSS/JavaScript, and I can punch that out pretty fast. Yet, some will be in Flash. I haven’t really touched Flash since about two years ago, when I shifted my interests because I didn’t see it surviving long-term (no offense to Adobe, former employer of one of my supervisors). I remember vague phrases like “vector graphics” and “movie clip”, and it’s coming back to me. But fast coding in Flash is not my forte. Just another thing to learn. And ActionScript isn’t so new, dot syntax is dot syntax.

And we use ArcGIS for cartography, which is what I’ve been using a lot this past week. Some great mentors have been super-helpful, but I’ve had to pick up the gauntlet seriously. Which is fun, if challenging. Derek also said how important, but hard, cartography is, and there’s a reason people go to school just for that. Sometimes, when we rely too much on Google Maps, I don’t think we appreciate that. I still don’t like how my work looks as I struggle forward. And QGIS is similar enough to give you a basic idea, but different enough to be confusing. And I was NOT paying for ArcGIS as a student. But now I know all about projections, and how to import XY data, and how styles convert from Arc –> Illustrator –> Flash (not so well). And I didn’t know that the previous week.

I guess the lesson is that if you work really hard self teaching, expecting that you can reach a point where you won’t have to, it’s unrealistic. The self teaching must always go on, but it’s easier with support. The best way to learn is to build, and on breaking news deadlines, we have plenty of opportunity to build. I go in each day not quite sure what the day will bring, but I know I’ll learn a bunch, have an impact on a major org, and do something I’m proud of. Each day will get slightly easier, but there will be new challenges. Interactive Director Shazna Nessa once told me that I’m the type of person who relishes challenges, and I suppose that’s true.

So, that’s why I keep sitting and coding and talking and trying and pushing and listening and learning…

At around 4:30pm on Friday, Jonathan IMs me saying “I suppose you’re not bored right now…”, and after literally laughing out loud, while balancing so many things, I ask him what he needs. And we push out the second DocCloud presentation in a week. I should point out this week is the first time (I’m pretty sure) the AP has publicly posted documents on DocCloud. I still get out by 6:30. Would I ever be annoyed at a last-minute assignment? No, no — we do breaking news. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lastly, while I’ve never before held to leaving times, the Guild imposes hours and shifts and overtime, and all things I don’t think about idealistically, but need to practically. Because without a definitive endpoint, there’s always more to do. And side projects, self-teaching, brunches with friends, Washington exploration, phone calls to relatives, apartment cleaning, theater attending, and rarely — sleeping, it all awaits me outside the newsroom. So I go. My new home in an office building in DC, that has the giant AP logo, it knows I’ll be back soon. To push forward in this difficult work that I love. And I’ll be all the better at it when I get some distance. That’s a life revelation for this workaholic.

Next week: I only have one day in the newsroom, due to the holiday, attending the Knight-Batten Awards at the Newseum (AP Interactive’s templating system was a finalist, but that has more to deal with others, especially Feilding Cage, as it was before my time), and two days in the hospital for my kidney disease chemo treatment. But the following week — it is ON!

Explore other posts:

• February 28, 2011 -- Why I really love NICAR (and the New York Times)
• February 21, 2010 -- Is a flat text file or a database right for an app?
• March 24, 2010 -- Bringing data journalism into curricula
• August 21, 2011 -- How to make a non-Flash intensity map in Fusion Tables
• January 11, 2009 -- "Alternative Storytelling"
• January 25, 2009 -- Analysis of Interactive Features In WaPo’s Inauguration Timeline Map

How to describe it? I feel like we’re leading a revolution, reminding me of a certain passage from Les Miserables:

“Who will join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Somewhere beyond the barricade, is there a world we long to see?
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!”

At the AP, moving toward that tomorrow is happening today.

A few lessons I learned in the first week:

1. I know nothing.

2. Really, I’m not just saying that. I know nothing.

3. I must have enough confidence in myself to stand up for the few things I do know.

4. I must not be intimidated by the name “The Associated Press.” I must do good work and express my opinions, just thinking of it as a job.

5. I must read every piece of documentation I can to understand the resources available to me.

6. I must talk to as many people as I can to pick their brains.

7. I must never underestimate my love for having all my Manhattan lunches on the AP expense card.

8. Working in NYC sounds glamorous, but it’s still just working in a building, like in DC, LA or Chicago. Related: my 28th floor hotel skyline view was amazing.

9. When meeting top management, I should have something intelligent to say.

10. If I freeze when meeting top management, and have nothing to say because I am overwhelmed, I should tell them that, and they will understand and we will find things to discuss anyway.

11. I must not be intimidated by the knowledge of others.

12. I must try new things without someone telling me to do so.

13. I must feel free to speak my mind, but also recognize that saying something is no good, without a feasible alternative, is unhelpful.

14. I must realize that we all share the same goals, and everyone is equal parts nice and busy.

15. There’s always breaking news. Always. It does not usually break by having the ground rumble underneath you, but this does happen. Related: Every week is a busy news week.

16. The greatest mistake I can make is to not have an idea. I find this unlikely to be a problem.

17. Geographical distance can be surmounted with excellent communication.

18. I must open my mind to learn five new things before breakfast.

19. I know nothing, but know more than I did the previous week.

20. I love my job. Passion can get you somewhere, skills get you the rest of the way. Trust, resources and potential are a fantastic trilogy. I love my job.

21. I must remember to never stop learning and sharing, within and without my organization, just because I am here. I must never, ever become complacent.

Explore other posts:

• July 11, 2010 -- First LAT app (or the butterfly on my windowsill)
• January 18, 2009 -- How much video is too much video?
• September 16, 2010 -- Journ curricula’s need for transition isn’t unique
• January 2, 2012 -- The word of 2012 — Moderation
• May 24, 2011 -- Oh, hi, blog readers — it’s been a while!
• February 15, 2010 -- Visualizing networking: When it doesn’t work

In the world of computer-assisted reporting, we’ve talked about the value of merging datasets for a long time. Overlay crime incidents with average income. Is there more crime in poorer areas? And for both analysis and visualization, wouldn’t it be better if we could visually overlay specific points on an intensity map, not just looking at straight text. To make this happen, we have to roll our own intensity map, since we can’t combine the FT-generated Flash ones with FT points visualized as a layer, which is JavaScript-based.

To demonstrate how this might work, we’re going to throw together a nation intensity map divided by state. County is also possible, and I just did it for my final project at PBS. But to keep this example reasonable, we’ll stick to the states. I’ll just be mapping population of states, as a base layer for other data. It comes from the July 2009 count from the Census Bureau. The raw data is here, and my cleaned data is here: Download it to your computer, so we can have a consistent example to work from.

Find a sample completed map here, in my example Fusion Table: http://www.google.com/fusiontables/DataSource?snapid=S242838rYvt

1. Take a look at the Fusion Table Google provides here: http://www.google.com/fusiontables/DataSource?dsrcid=227275. Polygons are stored by Google in the KML (Keyhole Markup Language) format. You just need to put this special type of file into a column in your Fusion Table, and tell the map this is the geography you want to use. The Census Bureau has uploaded a lot of its data in KML format, which you can find by Google searching “kml us counties” or some such. If you go to the visualize map option, you’ll even see all the state’s outlined. Note the ID number at the end of the URL, in this case: “227275″.

2. Prepare your own data. Make sure you have column names, and that your states or counties are formatted like the Fusion Table with geography you were just looking at. For example, their states use full name format, “Alabama”, not “AL”, so you must do the same.

3. When your data is in shape, create a new Fusion Table and upload your data.

4. Go to the Merge menu on the Fusion Table you created. In the upper right, there is a place to enter a table ID. Enter that ID you copied at the end of step 1, in this case, “227275″. Click Get.

5. It will bring in this table’s column as a list to the right side of this selection window. Select “name” as the column you want to join with your table. Select “state” on the left, which is a column from your table that you wish to join. Both of these columns in separate tables should match, i.e. “Alabama” –> “Alabama”. On the right side, click add subset of columns , and uncheck all boxes that aren’t geo. We don’t want to be adding extra columns to our table haphazardly, we just need that geographic info.

6. At the bottom of this form, select a name for a new table, which will combine the data you brought in with the data Google provides. Click “Merge Tables”, and give it a minute or two.

7. Click on visualize Map. You should see a lot of red shapes, that correspond to various states. If this doesn’t work, just above the map is a drop-down menu labeled “Location.” Make sure “geo” is selected, it may be trying to use your state names, unsuccessfully, as opposed to the geographic data we worked so hard to import.

8. Last step is to place an actual intensity in the map. We do this by clicking on “Configure styles” just above the map. Click on “Fill Color” under “Polygon”. You’ll see it defaults to a general red fill color that is under the “Fixed” tab. But we want color variety, so we’re more interested in the other options. To mimic FT’s typical Intensity map function, go to Gradient, and select the bubble that says “Show a gradient.” It defaults to that green, but you can change the color. Adjust the maximum number from “100″ to just above the maximum value you have. With the populations, I choose 35000000 (don’t use commas, even if the number is large). Under select column, choose what number column the map should use to assign colors. Here, we’ll use “population.”

Another option is to choose the buckets tab. Instead of a gradient of one color, we divide the numbers into equal buckets. If we have 5 buckets (the default), the lowest 20% of numbers get the first color, next 20% get the second, etc. You can select the colors of the different buckets, how many buckets you want, and again, you must set an accurate maximum number.

9. Now, you can embed this more flexible intensity map, just by grabbing a link the way you would with any FT map. If you want to overlay with points, create the points as a map in a separate table, and follow my previous tutorial on creating an embeddable map with multiple layers.

Explore other posts:

• November 22, 2010 -- Using Google spreadsheets as your database
• July 29, 2011 -- The Associated Press: Next stop on the journey
• January 16, 2012 -- A pilgramage to NY headquarters
• September 21, 2010 -- The power of linkable data apps (my second LAT app)
• January 4, 2010 -- My new perspective on math – it’s a journalistic tool!
• December 25, 2011 -- Hacking till it works is no longer enough