Disclaimer, this is sort of an exploration of how some tendencies I have (that are a little neurotic) will keep me from interacting with others, and what could possibly be done about it. It's a little long-winded. I had a couple of thought-provoking exchanges with the co-working panel, and with some of the guys from Mozilla Labs. Let's just say, thoughts were, in fact, provoked. I kinda got stuck inside my own head for a while and this is what came out. Sorry. :)

SXSW Interactive is an insanely inspiring time. I see lots of really smart people talking about really exciting things. It's infectious. At the end of each day, I find myself filled with ideas and motivation and all I want to do is run back to the hotel room and start figuring out ways to be one of those people next year. But the aspect that I'm most jealous of, one that no amount of late-night hacking in my hotel room will get me, is being a valuable contributor to something larger, a peer in a group of people passionate about the same things. Getting myself invested in a project or community is way harder than I feel like it should be. The times I've tried in the past, it's never stuck. That bums me out. A lot. Especially in situations like this.

It's mostly due to the social anxiety issues that I have. When I go into a new situation, my first instinct is that I'm being a slight burden on the people that are already there. If I don't get some relatively quick indication that I'm not just seen as this weird outsider, I generally assume I'm more trouble than I'm worth and tend to back away. That constant doubt makes it really difficult for me to stay motivated. I wonder if it's the same for other people? I'd assume so, I don't really consider myself to be that unique when it comes to stuff like that.

I started thinking about it some more, and I feel like there's a lot of stuff the individual can do, but also a few things a group can do to better reach out, and meet in the middle to make sure people that would be a good addition don't bail out.

What can I do?

First off, because it's the most actionable for me, here's some of the things I can do, or at least some things to think about to keep perspective on the whole thing.

Think hard about getting involved. Is that effort really worth it?

There are lots of dumb reasons. Joining something just to belong somewhere isn't smart, or sustainable. At best, it's short lived, at worst, you end up in a cult, or a gang, or a LOT of embarrassing pictures that will haunt you later.

Really, it's entirely too easy to get enamored with a side effect of a project that you otherwise wouldn't care that much about. Motivations like "I want to be around smart people all the time." or "I really like the sense of purpose y'all seem to have, and want to be a part of it" are totally valid, but not quite enough if the context is a bad fit. Furthermore, those motivations are fairly self-centered when you stop and think about it. That's actually ok, because if you didn't get anything out of it for yourself it wouldn't be worth it. But it probably should be balanced with something else.

"Rockstar" is not a terribly interesting archetype, "Collaborator" is much better.

Too often, I run into those situations with an approach like "OOOH let me show you all my awesomeness". Problem is, it's fairly inauthentic. I don't really think I'm all that awesome, but feel like I need to prove why I think I should be there. Doesn't really feel like it goes over all that well. It could be that it shows that even I don't buy it (probably), or, that's not really the aspect people care about. Am I excited about the same things as others? Can I talk about it? Am I psyched to learn and interact and dialogue about it? Maybe that's the more appealing trait. Besides, It's fairly unlikely that I'm gonna roll up on a group of people that are passionate about something and blow their mind with my fresh insight. I should think about what actions I can take to join (or start) a dialogue, rather than spending time flexing whatever muscles I think might impress people.

It's not all about you, er, me.

That's such a common sense thing to say, but it's easy to get frustrated when I don't have validation. And it's actually pretty understandable, I think. I'm trying to join something, to walk into an established group of people and say that I belong there too. There's a lot of insecurity that comes along with that. Will I be accepted? Did I even understand what I was walking into? It only makes sense that those things would be near the front of my mind. BUT, seriously, wtf, it's not a 'make you feel good about you' group. Jeez Robby, don't be so quick to throw up your hands and say "aw screw it, I suck at this", just because no one gave you a cookie (although, see the corollary in the next section).

What could groups and communities do?

Now, the other side of the coin. Let's say you're a group that is encouraging participation. What are some ways you can reduce friction in the right ways to nurture motivation and engagement by the right people?

I want to know if I'm adding value (or not), offer feedback if you think I am.

If someone makes an effort, acknowledge it if you actually think it's valuable (no reason to bother if not). That can be done in really lightweight ways, so it's not a big effort. If someone posts a comment on your blog or discussion board, comment back. Follow them on Twitter. Whatever. Do the simplest thing possible to give a little nudge of thanks and encouragement.

Converse in the open, and offer easy, lightweight, frequent entry paths to engagement.

Make your internal dialogues public, then offer people specific ways they can weigh in. I think Mozilla Labs does a pretty bang-up job in this regard. On many of their blog posts, someone will talk about something they're doing, why they're psyched about it, what parts of it they're struggling with, and what they'd appreciate some help on. This does something really powerful, it gives context and frames the conversation. All of that makes the thought of engaging with them much more accessible. I know what level of conversation is going on, and I know that feedback would actually be appreciated. Even when I don't have anything to offer, I still understand the way they're thinking about things a little bit better.

Personally, that's important because many times, right as I'm about to click the 'post comment' button on a blog, I get a twinge of panic and think "What if this is totally inappropriate? What if I'm about to say something that's been talked about to death and I'm just throwing some really unhelpful tangent on this post?" That feels pretty awkward, so actually more often than not I end up bailing out at the last second and deleting anything I've written. Yeah, that sounds neurotic, but that's how it goes down.

Follow up those calls-to-action with dialogue

This is a expansion of the previous two. It sucks to feel like someone asked you for something, and you made the effort to give it thought and respond, and to feel like you chucked something down a black hole. It's just awkward. Was that worth it? Getting recognition isn't the important part. It's just helpful knowing that I got the context right. For me, I'll quickly assume that the crickets chirping is a sign that I got it wrong and shouldn't contribute anything else.

Conclusion

Not that I think anyone owes me any extra effort or anything. That's just an explanation of some things I've run into in the past that have nudged me into feeling like I was wasting peoples time. And that's an embarrassing thought, particularly in online communities, where there's a permanent public record of it. I kinda feel, if new people are something a group/project/community is interested in, then some of those things maybe would help the people who are naturally a little bit averse to feeling like they might be an unwelcome voice. But, the other side holds true as well, and it's important for people like me to not get too wrapped up in over-thinking it.