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The Talent Shortage Paradox As we stand on the brink of technological marvels and digital innovations, a startling incongruity presents itself. Despite rapid advancements, a gaping and perplexing talent void has emerged in the tech industry. , the industry must reflect on its strategies. When 92% of C-Suite leaders admit that the talent shortage might refrain them from meeting their goals and objectives The tech industry faces a disturbing challenge: a pronounced talent deficit despite abundant job opportunities and increasing tech vacancies. As we witness a booming tech sector alongside a persistent talent gap, it's essential to comprehend the core issues and swiftly adapt our talent acquisition approaches. Recent forecasts, including those from , suggest the tech talent demand-supply mismatch will loom until at least 2026, spurred by the predicted IT spending trajectories. More strikingly, the has unveiled a significant figure: a concerning , in spite of hiring freezes this year. Moreover, despite the economic ebbs and flows between January and October 2022, tech job postings have , notably surpassing 2019's peak. This narrative underscores a singular truth – the tech industry's appetite for professionals remains insatiable. Moreover, insights highlight talent shortages as the primary roadblock in the adoption of 64% of emerging technologies. Clearly, the rapid digital transformation spurred by the pandemic has exposed vulnerabilities in talent pipelines. Gartner Dice Tech Job Report 375,000 tech job vacancies in the US surged by 25% Gartner's Layoff Complexity in Tech This paradox becomes even more baffling when juxtaposed with layoffs. In 2022, the US tech sector faced a paradoxical situation. , the underlying reasons seemed multifaceted. The increasing layoffs can be attributed to an unpredictable global economic climate and dwindling revenue growth. Yet, as one unpacks the reasons behind these layoffs, it becomes clear that the situation is more nuanced than it first appears. As already mentioned, in the backdrop of these significant job cuts, the tech industry is still grappling with a peculiar problem: a persistent talent gap. The broader narrative highlights not just the loss of jobs but also the growing industry's thirst for expertise. As public and private tech entities laid off at least 85,000 employees, with this trend spilling over into 2023 Underlying Causes of Tech Talent Shortage Amid the intricate fabric of tech industry dynamics, a looming question remains: why, in an era marked by advanced technological capabilities, is there such a distinct and enduring divide between talent and demand? The technology sector is no stranger to cyclical upheavals. However, the dissonance between an increasing demand for specialized skills and the talent pool availability remains a unique predicament. One plausible explanation lies in the pace of technological advancement. The tech world evolves at a meteoric rate, often outstripping the pace at which individuals can train and adapt. As companies undergo digital transformations, adopt next-gen technologies, and pivot their strategies, they invariably seek talents that align with their newfound direction. While some professionals evolve with these changes, others find themselves sidelined, leading to the paradoxical scenario of both job vacancies and layoffs coexisting. This mismatch between the skills companies need, and the skills people have also shows that education is not catching up quickly enough. While universities and technical institutions strive to keep their curriculums updated, the agility required to match real-time industry shifts is often elusive. Consequently, the freshly minted workforce might possess skills that, though valuable, don't precisely align with the immediate industry needs. Emerging Solutions to Address the Gap: Holistic Approaches and Modern Recruitment As we venture deeper into this tech epoch, the solutions to our challenges must be as dynamic and multifaceted as the problems themselves. Balancing innovative recruitment methods with consistent upskilling, a nurturing work culture, and adaptive educational frameworks will be pivotal. In this ever-evolving landscape, agility, foresight, and adaptability remain our best allies. These conditions form the backdrop against which innovative solutions like tech recruitment referral platforms shine. In my experience as a CEO of a tech recruitment marketplace , platforms for employee referrals made by a network of professional recruiters and thoroughly filtered by us harness the potential to change how hiring works. They offer more than just a meeting ground for recruiters and hiring companies; they provide the tools to align industry needs with available talent effectively. Huntly However, the journey to bridge the tech talent gap isn't limited to new recruitment methodologies. A holistic approach needs to be embraced. This involves deploying specialized teams that manage every facet of an employee's experience. Additionally, while tech skill gaps are often identified amongst companies, the depth of these gaps often remains underappreciated. It's important to carefully look into these differences not only for specific job positions but also for each person. Moreover, the recruitment process itself needs a modern touch. Instead of just focusing on streamlining recruitment, companies must emphasize the candidate's experience. This can be achieved by involving new technologies and specialized business in the interview process, expediting decision-making, and leveraging unconventional channels for talent acquisition. It is also vital to realize that top-tier tech candidates are not just passive participants. They are actively evaluating potential employers based on their use of innovative technologies, opportunities for career development, the value placed on technology within the organizational culture, and the presence of stimulating challenges. Hence, companies should look to foster an environment of innovation. The Importance of Candidate Experience In the world of tech, where the talent gap is both a present challenge and a potential future risk, a proactive and comprehensive approach to talent acquisition will define the industry frontrunners. — concurring that the candidate experience is inextricably linked to an organization's success. Such figures underline the importance of nurturing a positive workplace environment, building a robust employer brand, and offering unique benefits to stand out. Recent statistics reflect this sentiment, with a staggering majority of HR professionals — 89% in the U.S. and 84% in the U.K. Navigating the Tech Talent Landscape In conclusion, the tech talent shortage is a complex puzzle that demands a multi-pronged approach. By combining innovative recruitment methods, fostering a conducive work culture, and investing in continuous learning, the tech industry can not only bridge the current gap but also future-proof itself against forthcoming challenges.

Tech Talent Shortage: A Deep Dive into the Persistent Gap and Strategies to Bridge It

টেক ট্যালেন্ট ঘাটতি: ক্রমাগত ব্যবধানে গভীর ডুব এবং এটি পূরণ করার কৌশল

Mangel an technischen Talenten: Ein tiefer Einblick in die anhaltende Lücke und Strategien zu ihrer Überbrückung

Escasez de talento tecnológico: una inmersión profunda en la brecha persistente y estrategias para cerrarla

Pénurie de talents technologiques : une analyse approfondie du fossé persistant et des stratégies pour le combler

तकनीकी प्रतिभा की कमी: निरंतर अंतराल की गहराई से पड़ताल और इसे पाटने की रणनीतियाँ

テクノロジー人材の不足: 根強いギャップとそれを埋める戦略の詳細

기술 인재 부족: 지속적인 격차와 이를 메우기 위한 전략에 대한 심층 분석

Escassez de talentos tecnológicos: um mergulho profundo na lacuna persistente e estratégias para superá-la

Нехватка технических талантов: глубокий взгляд на сохраняющийся разрыв и стратегии его преодоления

Teknik Yetenek Eksikliği: Kalıcı Boşluğa Derin Bir Bakış ve Bunu Kapatacak Stratejiler

Sự thiếu hụt nhân tài công nghệ: Đi sâu vào khoảng cách dai dẳng và các chiến lược để thu hẹp khoảng cách đó

技术人才短缺：深入探讨持续存在的差距以及弥合这一差距的策略

At the time appointed the queen was ready: she had suffered so much at Edinburgh

On arriving in London

Among the lords who had followed Mary Stuart to Scotland

Some royal names are predestined to misfortune

The Country of the Blind, And Other Stories, by H. G. Wells, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . THE OBLITERATED MAN THE OBLITERATED MAN I was—you shall hear immediately why I am not now—Egbert Craddock Cummins. The name remains. I am still (Heaven help me!) Dramatic Critic to the Fiery Cross. What I shall be in a little while I do not know. I write in great trouble and confusion of mind. I will do what I can to make myself clear in the face of terrible difficulties. You must bear with me a little. When a man is rapidly losing his own identity, he naturally finds a difficulty in expressing himself. I will make it perfectly plain in a minute, when once I get my grip upon the story. Let me see—where am I? I wish I knew. Ah, I have it! Dead self! Egbert Craddock Cummins! In the past I should have disliked writing anything quite so full of "I" as this story must be. It is full of "I's" before and behind, like the beast in Revelation—the one with a head like a calf, I am afraid. But my tastes have changed since I became a Dramatic Critic and studied the masters—G.A.S., G.B.S., G.R.S., and the others. Everything has changed since then. At least the story is about myself—so that there is some excuse for me. And it is really not egotism, because, as I say, since those days my identity has undergone an entire alteration. That past!... I was—in those days—rather a nice fellow, rather shy— taste for grey in my clothes, weedy little moustache, face "interesting," slight stutter which I had caught in my early life from a schoolfellow. Engaged to a very nice girl, named Delia. Fairly new, she was— cigarettes—liked me because I was human and original. Considered I was like Lamb—on the strength of the stutter, I believe. Father, an eminent authority on postage stamps. She read a great deal in the British Museum. (A perfect pairing ground for literary people, that British Museum—you should read George Egerton and Justin Huntly M'Carthy and Gissing and the rest of them.) We loved in our intellectual way, and shared the brightest hopes. (All gone now.) And her father liked me because I seemed honestly eager to hear about stamps. She had no mother. Indeed, I had the happiest prospects a young man could have. I never went to theatres in those days. My Aunt Charlotte before she died had told me not to. Then Barnaby, the editor of the Fiery Cross, made me—in spite of my spasmodic efforts to escape—Dramatic Critic. He is a fine, healthy man, Barnaby, with an enormous head of frizzy black hair and a convincing manner, and he caught me on the staircase going to see Wembly. He had been dining, and was more than usually buoyant. "Hullo, Cummins!" he said. "The very man I want!" He caught me by the shoulder or the collar or something, ran me up the little passage, and flung me over the waste-paper basket into the arm-chair in his office. "Pray be seated," he said, as he did so. Then he ran across the room and came back with some pink and yellow tickets and pushed them into my hand. "Opera Comique," he said, "Thursday; Friday, the Surrey; Saturday, the Frivolity. That's all, I think." "But—" I began. "Glad you're free," he said, snatching some proofs off the desk and beginning to read. "I don't quite understand," I said. "Eigh?" he said, at the top of his voice, as though he thought I had gone and was startled at my remark. "Do you want me to criticise these plays?" "Do something with 'em... Did you think it was a treat?" "But I can't." "Did you call me a fool?" "Well, I've never been to a theatre in my life." "Virgin soil." "But I don't know anything about it, you know." "That's just it. New view. No habits. No clichis in stock. Ours is a live paper, not a bag of tricks. None of your clockwork professional journalism in this office. And I can rely on your integrity——" "But I've conscientious scruples——" He caught me up suddenly and put me outside his door. "Go and talk to Wembly about that," he said. "He'll explain." As I stood perplexed, he opened the door again, said, "I forgot this," thrust a fourth ticket into my hand (it was for that night—in twenty minutes' time) and slammed the door upon me. His expression was quite calm, but I caught his eye. I hate arguments. I decided that I would take his hint and become (to my own destruction) a Dramatic Critic. I walked slowly down the passage to Wembly. That Barnaby has a remarkable persuasive way. He has made few suggestions during our very pleasant intercourse of four years that he has not ultimately won me round to adopting. It may be, of course, that I am of a yielding disposition; certainly I am too apt to take my colour from my circumstances. It is, indeed, to my unfortunate susceptibility to vivid impressions that all my misfortunes are due. I have already alluded to the slight stammer I had acquired from a schoolfellow in my youth. However, this is a digression... I went home in a cab to dress. I will not trouble the reader with my thoughts about the first-night audience, strange assembly as it is,—those I reserve for my Memoirs,—nor the humiliating story of how I got lost during the entr'acte in a lot of red plush passages, and saw the third act from the gallery. The only point upon which I wish to lay stress was the remarkable effect of the acting upon me. You must remember I had lived a quiet and retired life, and had never been to the theatre before, and that I am extremely sensitive to vivid impressions. At the risk of repetition I must insist upon these points. The first effect was a profound amazement, not untinctured by alarm. The phenomenal unnaturalness of acting is a thing discounted in the minds of most people by early visits to the theatre. They get used to the fantastic gestures, the flamboyant emotions, the weird mouthings, melodious snortings, agonising yelps, lip-gnawings, glaring horrors, and other emotional symbolism of the stage. It becomes at last a mere deaf-and-dumb language to them, which they read intelligently pari passu with the hearing of the dialogue. But all this was new to me. The thing was called a modern comedy, the people were supposed to be English and were dressed like fashionable Americans of the current epoch, and I fell into the natural error of supposing that the actors were trying to represent human beings. I looked round on my first-night audience with a kind of wonder, discovered—as all new Dramatic Critics do—that it rested with me to reform the Drama, and, after a supper choked with emotion, went off to the office to write a column, piebald with "new paragraphs" (as all my stuff is—it fills out so) and purple with indignation. Barnaby was delighted. But I could not sleep that night. I dreamt of actors—actors glaring, actors smiting their chests, actors flinging out a handful of extended fingers, actors smiling bitterly, laughing despairingly, falling hopelessly, dying idiotically. I got up at eleven with a slight headache, read my notice in the Fiery Cross, breakfasted, and went back to my room to shave, (It's my habit to do so.) Then an odd thing happened. I could not find my razor. Suddenly it occurred to me that I had not unpacked it the day before. "Ah!" said I, in front of the looking-glass. Then "Hullo!" Quite involuntarily, when I had thought of my portmanteau, I had flung up the left arm (fingers fully extended) and clutched at my diaphragm with my right hand. I am an acutely self-conscious man at all times. The gesture struck me as absolutely novel for me. I repeated it, for my own satisfaction. "Odd!" Then (rather puzzled) I turned to my portmanteau. After shaving, my mind reverted to the acting I had seen, and I entertained myself before the cheval glass with some imitations of Jafferay's more exaggerated gestures. "Really, one might think it a disease," I said—"Stage-Walkitis!" (There's many a truth spoken in jest.) Then, if I remember rightly, I went off to see Wembly, and afterwards lunched at the British Museum with Delia. We actually spoke about our prospects, in the light of my new appointment. But that appointment was the beginning of my downfall. From that day I necessarily became a persistent theatre-goer, and almost insensibly I began to change. The next thing I noticed after the gesture about the razor was to catch myself bowing ineffably when I met Delia, and stooping in an old-fashioned, courtly way over her hand. Directly I caught myself, I straightened myself up and became very uncomfortable. I remember she looked at me curiously. Then, in the office, I found myself doing "nervous business," fingers on teeth, when Barnaby asked me a question I could not very well answer. Then, in some trifling difference with Delia, I clasped my hand to my brow. And I pranced through my social transactions at times singularly like an actor! I tried not to—no one could be more keenly alive to the arrant absurdity of the histrionic bearing. And I did! It began to dawn on me what it all meant. The acting, I saw, was too much for my delicately-strung nervous system. I have always, I know, been too amenable to the suggestions of my circumstances. Night after night of concentrated attention to the conventional attitudes and intonation of the English stage was gradually affecting my speech and carriage. I was giving way to the infection of sympathetic imitation. Night after night my plastic nervous system took the print of some new amazing gesture, some new emotional exaggeration—and retained it. A kind of theatrical veneer threatened to plate over and obliterate my private individuality altogether. I saw myself in a kind of vision. Sitting by myself one night, my new self seemed to me to glide, posing and gesticulating, across the room. He clutched his throat, he opened his fingers, he opened his legs in walking like a high-class marionette. He went from attitude to attitude. He might have been clockwork. Directly after this I made an ineffectual attempt to resign my theatrical work. But Barnaby persisted in talking about the Polywhiddle Divorce all the time I was with him, and I could get no opportunity of saying what I wished. And then Delia's manner began to change towards me. The ease of our intercourse vanished. I felt she was learning to dislike me. I grinned, and capered, and scowled, and posed at her in a thousand ways, and knew—with what a voiceless agony!—that I did it all the time. I tried to resign again, and Barnaby talked about "X" and "Z" and "Y" in the New Review, and gave me a strong cigar to smoke, and so routed me. And then I walked up the Assyrian Gallery in the manner of Irving to meet Delia, and so precipitated the crisis. "Ah!—Dear!" I said, with more sprightliness and emotion in my voice than had ever been in all my life before I became (to my own undoing) a Dramatic Critic. She held out her hand rather coldly, scrutinising my face as she did so. I prepared, with a new-won grace, to walk by her side. "Egbert," she said, standing still, and thought. Then she looked at me. I said nothing. I felt what was coming. I tried to be the old Egbert Craddock Cummins of shambling gait and stammering sincerity, whom she loved, but I felt even as I did so that I was a new thing, a thing of surging emotions and mysterious fixity—like no human being that ever lived, except upon the stage. "Egbert," she said, "you are not yourself." "Ah!" Involuntarily I clutched my diaphragm and averted my head (as is the way with them). "There!" she said. "What do you mean?" I said, whispering in vocal italics—you know how they do it—turning on her, perplexity on face, right hand down, left on brow. I knew quite well what she meant. I knew quite well the dramatic unreality of my behaviour. But I struggled against it in vain. "What do you mean?" I said, and, in a kind of hoarse whisper, "I don't understand!" She really looked as though she disliked me. "What do you keep on posing for?" she said. "I don't like it. You didn't use to." "Didn't use to!" I said slowly, repeating this twice. I glared up and down the gallery with short, sharp glances. "We are alone," I said swiftly. "Listen!" I poked my forefinger towards her, and glared at her. "I am under a curse." I saw her hand tighten upon her sunshade. "You are under some bad influence or other," said Delia. "You should give it up. I never knew anyone change as you have done." "Delia!" I said, lapsing into the pathetic. "Pity me, Augh! Delia! Pit—y me!" She eyed me critically. "Why you keep playing the fool like this I don't know," she said. "Anyhow, I really cannot go about with a man who behaves as you do. You made us both ridiculous on Wednesday. Frankly, I dislike you, as you are now. I met you here to tell you so—as it's about the only place where we can be sure of being alone together——" "Delia!" said I, with intensity, knuckles of clenched hands white. "You don't mean——" "I do," said Delia. "A woman's lot is sad enough at the best of times. But with you——" I clapped my hand on my brow. "So, good-bye," said Delia, without emotion. "Oh, Delia!" I said. "Not this?" "Good-bye, Mr. Cummins," she said. By a violent effort I controlled myself and touched her hand. I tried to say some word of explanation to her. She looked into my working face and winced. "I must do it," she said hopelessly. Then she turned from me and began walking rapidly down the gallery. Heavens! How the human agony cried within me! I loved Delia. But nothing found expression—I was already too deeply crusted with my acquired self. "Good-baye!" I said at last, watching her retreating figure. How I hated myself for doing it! After she had vanished, I repeated in a dreamy way, "Good-baye!" looking hopelessly round me. Then, with a kind of heart-broken cry, I shook my clenched fists in the air, staggered to the pedestal of a winged figure, buried my face in my arms, and made my shoulders heave. Something within me said "Ass!" as I did so. (I had the greatest difficulty in persuading the Museum policeman, who was attracted by my cry of agony, that I was not intoxicated, but merely suffering from a transient indisposition.) But even this great sorrow has not availed to save me from my fate. I see it; everyone sees it: I grow more "theatrical" every day. And no one could be more painfully aware of the pungent silliness of theatrical ways. The quiet, nervous, but pleasing E.C. Cummins vanishes. I cannot save him. I am driven like a dead leaf before the winds of March. My tailor even enters into the spirit of my disorder. He has a peculiar sense of what is fitting. I tried to get a dull grey suit from him this spring, and he foisted a brilliant blue upon me, and I see he has put braid down the sides of my new dress trousers. My hairdresser insists upon giving me a "wave." I am beginning to associate with actors. I detest them, but it is only in their company that I can feel I am not glaringly conspicuous. Their talk infects me. I notice a growing tendency to dramatic brevity, to dashes and pauses in my style, to a punctuation of bows and attitudes. Barnaby has remarked it too. I offended Wembly by calling him "Dear Boy" yesterday. I dread the end, but I cannot escape from it. The fact is, I am being obliterated. Living a grey, retired life all my youth, I came to the theatre a delicate sketch of a man, a thing of tints and faint lines. Their gorgeous colouring has effaced me altogether. People forget how much mode of expression, method of movement, are a matter of contagion. I have heard of stage-struck people before, and thought it a figure of speech. I spoke of it jestingly, as a disease. It is no jest. It is a disease. And I have got it badly! Deep down within me I protest against the wrong done to my personality—unavailingly. For three hours or more a week I have to go and concentrate my attention on some fresh play, and the suggestions of the drama strengthen their awful hold upon me. My manners grow so flamboyant, my passions so professional, that I doubt, as I said at the outset, whether it is really myself that behaves in such a manner. I feel merely the core to this dramatic casing, that grows thicker and presses upon me—me and mine. I feel like King John's abbot in his cope of lead. I doubt, indeed, whether I should not abandon the struggle altogether— leave this sad world of ordinary life for which I am so ill fitted, abandon the name of Cummins for some professional pseudonym, complete my self-effacement, and—a thing of tricks and tatters, of posing and pretence—go upon the stage. It seems my only resort—"to hold the mirror up to Nature." For in the ordinary life, I will confess, no one now seems to regard me as both sane and sober. Only upon the stage, I feel convinced, will people take me seriously. That will be the end of it. I know that will be the end of it. And yet ... I will frankly confess ... all that marks off your actor from your common man ... I detest. I am still largely of my Aunt Charlotte's opinion, that play-acting is unworthy of a pure-minded man's attention, much more participation. Even now I would resign my dramatic criticism and try a rest. Only I can't get hold of Barnaby. Letters of resignation he never notices. He says it is against the etiquette of journalism to write to your Editor. And when I go to see him, he gives me another big cigar and some strong whisky and soda, and then something always turns up to prevent my explanation. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. H. G. Wells (2004). The Country of the Blind, And Other Stories. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022, from https://www.gutenberg.org/files/11870/11870-h/11870-h.htm This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at . https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

THE OBLITERATED MAN

The Plattner Story, by H. G. Wells, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . THE SAD STORY OF A DRAMATIC CRITIC THE SAD STORY OF A DRAMATIC CRITIC I was—you shall hear immediately why I am not now—Egbert Craddock Cummins. The name remains. I am still (Heaven help me!) Dramatic Critic to the Fiery Cross. What I shall be in a little while I do not know. I write in great trouble and confusion of mind. I will do what I can to make myself clear in the face of terrible difficulties. You must bear with me a little. When a man is rapidly losing his own identity, he naturally finds a difficulty in expressing himself. I will make it perfectly plain in a minute, when once I get my grip upon the story. Let me see—where I? I wish I knew. Ah, I have it! Dead self! Egbert Craddock Cummins! am In the past I should have disliked writing anything quite so full of “I” as this story must be. It is full of “I’s” before and behind, like the beast in Revelation—the one with a head like a calf, I am afraid. But my tastes have changed since I became a Dramatic Critic and studied the masters—G.R.S., G.B.S., G.A.S., and the others. Everything has changed since then. At least the story is about myself—so that there is some excuse for me. And it is really not egotism, because, as I say, since those days my identity has undergone an entire alteration. That past!... I was—in those days—rather a nice fellow, rather shy—taste for grey in my clothes, weedy little moustache, face “interesting,” slight stutter which I had caught in early life from a schoolfellow. Engaged to a very nice girl, named Delia. Fairly new, she was—cigarettes—liked me because I was human and original. Considered I was like Lamb—on the strength of the stutter, I believe. Father, an eminent authority on postage stamps. She read a great deal in the British Museum. (A perfect pairing ground for literary people, that British Museum—you should read George Egerton and Justin Huntly M’Carthy and Gissing and the rest of them.) We loved in our intellectual way, and shared the brightest hopes. (All gone now.) And her father liked me because I seemed honestly eager to hear about stamps. She had no mother. Indeed, I had the happiest prospects a young man could have. I never went to theatres in those days. My Aunt Charlotte before she died had told me not to. Then Barnaby, the editor of the Fiery Cross, made me—in spite of my spasmodic efforts to escape—Dramatic Critic. He is a fine, healthy man, Barnaby, with an enormous head of frizzy black hair and a convincing manner, and he caught me on the staircase going to see Wembly. He had been dining, and was more than usually buoyant. “Hullo, Cummins!” he said. “The very man I want!” He caught me by the shoulder or the collar or something, ran me up the little passage, and flung me over the waste-paper basket into the arm-chair in his office. “Pray be seated,” he said, as he did so. Then he ran across the room and came back with some pink and yellow tickets and pushed them into my hand. “Opera Comique,” he said, “Thursday; Friday, the Surrey; Saturday, the Frivolity. That’s all, I think.” “But”—I began. “Glad you’re free,” he said, snatching some proofs off the desk and beginning to read. “I don’t quite understand,” I said. “ ” he said, at the top of his voice, as though he thought I had gone, and was startled at my remark. Eigh? “Do you want me to criticise these plays?” “Do something with ’em.... Did you think it was a treat?” “But I can’t.” “Did you call me a fool?” “Well, I’ve never been to a theatre in my life.” “Virgin soil.” “But I don’t know anything about it, you know.” “That’s just it. New view. No habits. No clichés in stock. Ours is a live paper, not a bag of tricks. None of your clockwork professional journalism in this office. And I can rely on your integrity”— “But I’ve conscientious scruples”— He caught me up suddenly and put me outside his door. “Go and talk to Wembly about that,” he said. “He’ll explain.” As I stood perplexed, he opened the door again, said, “I forgot this,” thrust a fourth ticket into my hand (it was for that night—in twenty minutes’ time), and slammed the door upon me. His expression was quite calm, but I caught his eye. I hate arguments. I decided that I would take his hint and become (to my own destruction) a Dramatic Critic. I walked slowly down the passage to Wembly. That Barnaby has a remarkably persuasive way. He has made few suggestions during our very pleasant intercourse of four years that he has not ultimately won me round to adopting. It may be, of course, that I am of a yielding disposition; certainly I am too apt to take my colour from my circumstances. It is, indeed, to my unfortunate susceptibility to vivid impressions that all my misfortunes are due. I have already alluded to the slight stammer I had acquired from a schoolfellow in my youth. However, this is a digression.... I went home in a cab to dress. I will not trouble the reader with my thoughts about the first-night audience, strange assembly as it is,—those I reserve for my Memoirs,—nor the humiliating story of how I got lost during the entr’acte in a lot of red plush passages, and saw the third act from the gallery. The only point upon which I wish to lay stress was the remarkable effect of the acting upon me. You must remember I had lived a quiet and retired life, and had never been to the theatre before, and that I am extremely sensitive to vivid impressions. At the risk of repetition I must insist upon these points. The first effect was a profound amazement, not untinctured by alarm. The phenomenal unnaturalness of acting is a thing discounted in the minds of most people by early visits to the theatre. They get used to the fantastic gestures, the flamboyant emotions, the weird mouthings, melodious snortings, agonising yelps, lip-gnawings, glaring horrors, and other emotional symbolism of the stage. It becomes at last a mere deaf-and-dumb language to them, which they read intelligently pari passu with the hearing of the dialogue. But all this was new to me. The thing was called a modern comedy, the people were supposed to be English and were dressed like fashionable Americans of the current epoch, and I fell into the natural error of supposing that the actors were trying to represent human beings. I looked round on my first-night audience with a kind of wonder, discovered—as all new Dramatic Critics do—that it rested with me to reform the Drama, and, after a supper choked with emotion, went off to the office to write a column, piebald with “new paragraphs” (as all my stuff is—it fills out so) and purple with indignation. Barnaby was delighted. But I could not sleep that night. I dreamt of actors—actors glaring, actors smiting their chests, actors flinging out a handful of extended fingers, actors smiling bitterly, laughing despairingly, falling hopelessly, dying idiotically. I got up at eleven with a slight headache, read my notice in the Fiery Cross, breakfasted, and went back to my room to shave. (It’s my habit to do so.) Then an odd thing happened. I could not find my razor. Suddenly it occurred to me that I had not unpacked it the day before. “Ah!” said I, in front of the looking-glass. Then “Hullo!” Quite involuntarily, when I had thought of my portmanteau, I had flung up the left arm (fingers fully extended) and clutched at my diaphragm with my right hand. I am an acutely self-conscious man at all times. The gesture struck me as absolutely novel for me. I repeated it, for my own satisfaction. “Odd!” Then (rather puzzled) I turned to my portmanteau. After shaving, my mind reverted to the acting I had seen, and I entertained myself before the cheval glass with some imitations of Jafferay’s more exaggerated gestures. “Really, one might think it a disease,” I said—“Stage-Walkitis!” (There’s many a truth spoken in jest.) Then, if I remember rightly, I went off to see Wembly, and afterwards lunched at the British Museum with Delia. We actually spoke about our prospects, in the light of my new appointment. But that appointment was the beginning of my downfall. From that day I necessarily became a persistent theatre-goer, and almost insensibly I began to change. The next thing I noticed after the gesture about the razor, was to catch myself bowing ineffably when I met Delia, and stooping in an old-fashioned, courtly way over her hand. Directly I caught myself, I straightened myself up and became very uncomfortable. I remember she looked at me curiously. Then, in the office, I found myself doing “nervous business,” fingers on teeth, when Barnaby asked me a question I could not very well answer. Then, in some trifling difference with Delia, I clasped my hand to my brow. And I pranced through my social transactions at times singularly like an actor! I tried not to—no one could be more keenly alive to the arrant absurdity of the histrionic bearing. And I did! It began to dawn on me what it all meant. The acting, I saw, was too much for my delicately-strung nervous system. I have always, I know, been too amenable to the suggestions of my circumstances. Night after night of concentrated attention to the conventional attitudes and intonation of the English stage was gradually affecting my speech and carriage. I was giving way to the infection of sympathetic imitation. Night after night my plastic nervous system took the print of some new amazing gesture, some new emotional exaggeration—and retained it. A kind of theatrical veneer threatened to plate over and obliterate my private individuality altogether. I saw myself in a kind of vision. Sitting by myself one night, my new self seemed to me to glide, posing and gesticulating, across the room. He clutched his throat, he opened his fingers, he opened his legs in walking like a high-class marionette. He went from attitude to attitude. He might have been clockwork. Directly after this I made an ineffectual attempt to resign my theatrical work. But Barnaby persisted in talking about the Polywhiddle Divorce all the time I was with him, and I could get no opportunity of saying what I wished. And then Delia’s manner began to change towards me. The ease of our intercourse vanished. I felt she was learning to dislike me. I grinned, and capered, and scowled, and posed at her in a thousand ways, and knew—with what a voiceless agony!—that I did it all the time. I tried to resign again, and Barnaby talked about “X” and “Z” and “Y” in the New Review, and gave me a strong cigar to smoke, and so routed me. And then I walked up the Assyrian Gallery in the manner of Irving to meet Delia, and so precipitated the crisis. “Ah!— ” I said, with more sprightliness and emotion in my voice than had ever been in all my life before I became (to my own undoing) a Dramatic Critic. Dear! She held out her hand rather coldly, scrutinising my face as she did so. I prepared, with a new-won grace, to walk by her side. “Egbert,” she said, standing still, and thought. Then she looked at me. I said nothing. I felt what was coming. I tried to be the old Egbert Craddock Cummins of shambling gait and stammering sincerity, whom she loved, but I felt even as I did so that I was a new thing, a thing of surging emotions and mysterious fixity—like no human being that ever lived, except upon the stage. “Egbert,” she said, “you are not yourself.” “Ah!” Involuntarily I clutched my diaphragm and averted my head (as is the way with them). “There!” she said. “ ” I said, whispering in vocal italics—you know how they do it—turning on her, perplexity on face, right hand down, left on brow. I knew quite well what she meant. I knew quite well the dramatic unreality of my behaviour. But I struggled against it in vain. “What do you mean?” I said, and, in a kind of hoarse whisper, “I don’t understand!” What do you mean? She really looked as though she disliked me. “What do you keep on posing for?” she said. “I don’t like it. You didn’t use to.” “Didn’t use to!” I said slowly, repeating this twice. I glared up and down the gallery, with short, sharp glances. “We are alone,” I said swiftly. “ ” I poked my forefinger towards her, and glared at her. “I am under a curse.” Listen! I saw her hand tighten upon her sunshade. “You are under some bad influence or other,” said Delia. “You should give it up. I never knew anyone change as you have done.” “Delia!” I said, lapsing into the pathetic. “Pity me. Augh! Delia! —y me!” Pit She eyed me critically. “ you keep playing the fool like this I don’t know,” she said. “Anyhow, I really cannot go about with a man who behaves as you do. You made us both ridiculous on Wednesday. Frankly, I dislike you, as you are now. I met you here to tell you so—as it’s about the only place where we can be sure of being alone together”— Why “Delia!” said I, with intensity, knuckles of clenched hands white. “You don’t mean”— “I do,” said Delia. “A woman’s lot is sad enough at the best of times. But with you”— I clapped my hand on my brow. “So, good-bye,” said Delia, without emotion. “Oh, Delia!” I said. “Not ?” this “Good-bye, Mr. Cummins,” she said. By a violent effort I controlled myself and touched her hand. I tried to say some word of explanation to her. She looked into my working face and winced. “I do it,” she said hopelessly. Then she turned from me and began walking rapidly down the gallery. must Heavens! How the human agony cried within me! I loved Delia. But nothing found expression—I was already too deeply crusted with my acquired self. “Good-baye!” I said at last, watching her retreating figure. How I hated myself for doing it! After she had vanished, I repeated in a dreamy way, “Good-baye!” looking hopelessly round me. Then, with a kind of heart-broken cry, I shook my clenched fists in the air, staggered to the pedestal of a winged figure, buried my face in my arms, and made my shoulders heave. Something within me said “Ass!” as I did so. (I had the greatest difficulty in persuading the Museum policeman, who was attracted by my cry of agony, that I was not intoxicated, but merely suffering from a transient indisposition.) But even this great sorrow has not availed to save me from my fate. I see it, everyone sees it; I grow more “theatrical” every day. And no one could be more painfully aware of the pungent silliness of theatrical ways. The quiet, nervous, but pleasing E. C. Cummins vanishes. I cannot save him. I am driven like a dead leaf before the winds of March. My tailor even enters into the spirit of my disorder. He has a peculiar sense of what is fitting. I tried to get a dull grey suit from him this spring, and he foisted a brilliant blue upon me, and I see he has put braid down the sides of my new dress trousers. My hairdresser insists upon giving me a “wave.” I am beginning to associate with actors. I detest them, but it is only in their company that I can feel I am not glaringly conspicuous. Their talk infects me. I notice a growing tendency to dramatic brevity, to dashes and pauses in my style, to a punctuation of bows and attitudes. Barnaby has remarked it too. I offended Wembly by calling him “Dear Boy” yesterday. I dread the end, but I cannot escape from it. The fact is, I am being obliterated. Living a grey, retired life all my youth, I came to the theatre a delicate sketch of a man, a thing of tints and faint lines. Their gorgeous colouring has effaced me altogether. People forget how much mode of expression, method of movement, are a matter of contagion. I have heard of stage-struck people before, and thought it a figure of speech. I spoke of it jestingly, as a disease. It is no jest. It a disease. And I have got it bad! Deep down within me I protest against the wrong done to my personality—unavailingly. For three hours or more a week I have to go and concentrate my attention on some fresh play, and the suggestions of the drama strengthen their awful hold upon me. My manners grow so flamboyant, my passions so professional, that I doubt, as I said at the outset, whether it is really myself that behaves in such a manner. I feel merely the core to this dramatic casing, that grows thicker and presses upon me—me and mine. I feel like King John’s abbot in his cope of lead. is I doubt, indeed, whether I should not abandon the struggle altogether—leave this sad world of ordinary life for which I am so ill-fitted, abandon the name of Cummins for some professional pseudonym, complete my self-effacement, and—a thing of tricks and tatters, of posing and pretence—go upon the stage. It seems my only resort—“to hold the mirror up to Nature.” For in the ordinary life, I will confess, no one now seems to regard me as both sane and sober. Only upon the stage, I feel convinced, will people take me seriously. That will be the end of it. I that will be the end of it. And yet ... I will frankly confess ... all that marks off your actor from your common man ... I . I am still largely of my Aunt Charlotte’s opinion, that playacting is unworthy of a pure-minded man’s attention, much more participation. Even now I would resign my dramatic criticism and try a rest. Only I can’t get hold of Barnaby. Letters of resignation he never notices. He says it is against the etiquette of journalism to write to your Editor. And when I go to see him, he gives me another big cigar and some strong whisky and soda, and then something always turns up to prevent my explanation. know detest About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. H. G. Wells (2013). The Plattner Story. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022, from https://www.gutenberg.org/files/42989/42989-h/42989-h.htm This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

THE SAD STORY OF A DRAMATIC CRITIC

It has been about a month since my app , an automated code linting website for , , and CSS. I’ve learned a lot in the last 6 months while working on and deploying Lintly. In this article I’m going to recap Lintly’s first month and discuss all that goes into . I launched Lintly Python JavaScript building a production app Specifically, I’ll talk about… My strategy for the app planning Project management I used during development The AWS services I used for deployment How I the app without spending a dime marketed The app’s (a breakdown of every dollar I’ve spent on Lintly) finances The Lintly Dashboard The numbers Let’s get some stats out of the way. Here is how Lintly has performed in the last month: have signed up 78 users are being linted 131 GitHub repos Lintly has linted code 642 times linted 320,146 lines of code Not bad! I told my wife that if 10 people signed up in the first week that I would be happy. So 75 users in a month is certainly something I’m happy with. Now let’s talk about building and deploying the app. First up: Planning. Planning Planning was where I spent the least amount of time. There can be philosophical arguments about how much planning one should perform on a side project, but those are best left to smarter developers. I do like to do one bit of planning: . I knew there was already a similar app in the Python landscape (wink, nudge), and several other competitors that work with all sorts of languages. So I went to the home page for all of those sites and read about their features. I also checked out the documentation for those apps. checking out competitors I do all of this to give me a good sense of between all code linting sites. For example, all sites integrate with GitHub webhooks, so I knew that would be important. On the flip side, some sites simply lint pull requests and don’t store the results, so perhaps that isn’t a required feature. what features are universal I wrote down all the required and non-essential features. All the required features went into the Beta feature set. Everything non-essential went into the Someday or v1.0 feature set. Development After planning it was time to start hacking on this thing. I’m pretty familiar with Python and Django, so those are what I used to build Lintly. I worked on Lintly in my spare time for about 6 months before finally releasing it. Occasionally I wouldn’t work on Lintly for weeks at a time. However, to release the first week of January helped me to finally focus and ship a working product. setting a goal I used to help keep track of features that needed to be completed. I split the Trello board into 5 lanes: Trello To-Do — Someday To-Do— v1.0 To-Do — Beta Doing Done The lane consists of features that would be nice to have, but are not required at all. is for features that need to be in version 1.0 (like accepting payments for private repos), but don’t need to be in the beta. The lane is for features required to even release a beta. To-Do — Someday To-Do — v1.0 To-Do — Beta By using these 5 lanes I was able to . This is easier than it sounds, as I often found myself moving new features into the beta lane. But overall this system worked well for me. focus exclusively on the features required to release a functional beta My trusty Trello board Deployment When I finally completed all cards in the lane in Trello I was ready for deployment. I decided to go with since we use a lot of AWS services , and because knowing AWS is an important skill set to have these days. AWS also provides a , which allowed me to play around with the different services and initially deploy the app without having to pay a dime. To-Do — Beta AWS where I work free tier AWS is overwhelming to those unfamiliar with it. AWS has dozens of services at the developers disposal. In the end, I used these services to deploy Lintly: — A Heroku-esque web server environment Elastic Beanstalk — Hosts the Postgres database RDS — Runs a cluster of Docker containers (I use these for the Lintly Celery workers) ECS — Hosts the Redis cache ElasticCache — A message queueing system that integrates with Celery SQS — DNS management Route 53 — Stores Lintly’s static assets S3 — A CDN in front of Lintly’s static assets CloudFront This is just the tip of the iceberg of what AWS has to offer. However, I believe these services are some of the most essential ones to learn. If you understand them then you should be able to deploy most standard web apps to the world. Side note: If you want to deploy a Django app to AWS and need a place to start, this article is excellent . Marketing The easiest way to provide value is to pay money for a site to place an ad or promote a Tweet that others will see. Most solo developers don’t want to spend a lot of money marketing an app, especially one they would consider a side project. I’m certainly no exception to that, which meant I needed to find alternative ways to let people know about Lintly. In order to market you have to provide value in one form or another. In order to market you have to provide value in one form or another. I decided to and post them on Medium, Twitter, and Reddit. These articles (much like this one) aim to teach the reader about something. One of the articles I wrote was called , which talked about Lintly and some of the ways I messed up while working on it. This article provides value to the reader by giving them real world examples of a Django app. It also informs them about Lintly. Everyone wins! write articles about Lintly “Mistakes I Made Writing a Django App (and How I Fixed Them)” Finances Lintly has no way of accepting money yet. Eventually I will charge for private repos, but to start out I wanted to offer it for free to have people try it out and report bugs. I can, however, talk about how much Lintly costs. So far Lintly hasn’t cost that much. Here’s a breakdown of what I’ve spent: $9 — lintly.com domain name $18 — Bootstrap theme $4.69 — AWS costs for December 2016 $56.39 — AWS costs for January 2017 January 2017 was by far the most expensive month I’ve had. This is mostly because in mid-January I tried changing how the app was deployed in a number of different ways. I tried using a single container Docker instance, a multi-container Docker instance, regular Elastic Beanstalk, , and ECS. All of that stopping and starting various EC2 instances added up, and the bill came to be $56.39. Zappa Since then I have found a deployment that I really like — Elastic Beanstalk for the web server and ECS for the Celery worker containers. These both run on t2.micro EC2 instances (there just isn’t very much traffic right now) so the costs are pretty minimal. Going Forward Lintly had an exciting and fun first month. I don’t know if it will ever be considered a success from a monetary standpoint, but I don’t think it matters. To me it’s a success either way. I would work on it even if it never made a dollar. I build it because . it’s fun . Thanks for reading! If you’d like to keep track of your Python, JavaScript, or CSS code quality then I’d love for you to try out Lintly. Check it out at lintly.com Also, if you’re into the whole Twitter thing then follow me @gmconnaughey .

Launching Lintly: One Month In

Creating and Releasing an App with Flutter: Part II

In this article we’ll go over how to handle webhooks using Django, create a webhook in , and test the webhook on your local machine using ngrok. But first a brief primer on webhooks. GitHub If you’re already familiar with webhooks then feel free to skip past this first part. What are webhooks? Imagine you are writing an app that needs to be informed when an event occurs in another system. The event could be when a user sends a tweet or when the price of an item changes. One way to know when the event occurs is to check every so often. For instance, your app could make a request to Twitter every 5 minutes asking “Has posted anything yet?” This is called polling, and it can be taxing on your servers because you must constantly make requests to external services. user Another way to know an event has occurred is to have the other service inform your app when things change. This can be accomplished using . With webhooks you no longer need to poll every 5 minutes or once a day. Instead, your app . webhooks receives events in real-time Handling GitHub webhooks GitHub has a that can trigger webhooks. The event we’ll handle is the default event, which occurs when a user pushes commits, branches, or tags to a GitHub repository. plethora of events push Let’s write some code that handles GitHub’s webhooks. We’re writing a Django app, so we’ll create a view function. Be sure to wire up this view to the URL . /hooks/handle_github Below is a view function that will handle GitHub webhooks . For this to work, you’ll need to first add a to your settings file. Think of this as your webhook’s password, so make it a long string with lots of random characters. Also, remember it, because we’ll need it later. based on the instructions in GitHub’s documentation GITHUB_WEBHOOK_SECRET Requests from GitHub come into our app through the view function. The view ensures the request is authorized, loads the payload JSON, does something useful with the payload, and returns an HTTP response. handle_github_hook When writing your handler, keep in mind that . If the task you need to perform can happen quickly then do it synchronously. Otherwise it’s probably best to put the task in the background using or . GitHub expects you to respond to webhooks within 30 seconds Celery RQ Now that we have code that handles webhooks, we need to test it. Enter ngrok Webhooks take some work to test locally. That’s because by their very nature they expect a publicly accessible URL to send requests to, and most of our development laptops don’t have that. Luckily there is a very easy way that we can create a public URL that leads right to our development server: . ngrok Ngrok is a command line application you can use to expose your development machine to the Internet. To install ngrok, go to and follow their installation steps. It’s as simple as downloading and unzipping. I’ll wait while you go off and do that. ngrok.io 🎵 Jeopardy theme song 🎵 Is ngrok installed now? Great! To run it, open up your terminal and enter the following. ngrok http 8000 This should start up a secure tunnel that is connected to your local HTTP port. It will look something like this: ngrok by (Ctrl+C to quit) @inconshreveable Session Status                onlineVersion                       2.1.18Region                        United States (us)Web Interface Forwarding -> localhost:8000Forwarding -> localhost:8000 http://127.0.0.1:4041 http://dda5f8fd.ngrok.io https://dda5f8fd.ngrok.io Connections                   ttl     opn     rt1     rt5     p50     p900       0       0.00    0.00    0.00    0.00 The forwarding URL is what I’ll use for the webhook. Your URL will be different, so use whatever ngrok provides. http://dda5f8fd.ngrok.io Setting up our webhook Now that we have code to handle webhooks a publicly accessible URL, let’s set up a webhook in GitHub. and You can add a webhook to a repository programmatically using GitHub’s API. In fact, that’s what you do to automate this whole process. In the spirit of brevity, however, we’ll add a webhook through the GitHub UI. To do that, go to one of your repositories in GitHub, select Settings, then Webhooks. should Add your ngrok URL + to the Payload URL field. Next, add the secret string from your Django settings to the Secret field. GitHub will send along this secret string so that you can verify the request is really coming from them. Finally, choose the events you would like GitHub to notify your app about. When it’s all said and done, the form should look something like this: /hooks/handle_github Setting up our webhook in GitHub Click the Add webhook button and your webhook is ready for action. Testing it out It’s finally time to confirm this whole thing is working. To do that, start up the development Django server by running . This should start your server on port 8000, which is the port ngrok expects. python manage.py runserver Next we’ll need to trigger an event in GitHub. If you’re webhook is configured to handle the default event then pushing a branch to GitHub will suffice. push Clone the repository where you created your webhook. For example: $ git clone https://github.com/grantmcconnaughey/django-field-history.git Now, create a new branch and push it back to GitHub. $ git checkout -b webhook_test$ touch new_file.py$ git add new_file.py$ git commit -m "Testing webhooks"$ git push origin webhook_test This will trigger the event and GitHub will make a request to the ngrok URL you entered in your repo’s settings. This means you should see some activity over in the terminal where ngrok is running: push HTTP Requests------------- POST /hooks/handle_github/            202 Accepted Huzzah! 🎉 We’ve successfully handled a GitHub webhook. Conclusion In this post I discussed and why they’re useful. Next I showed you in a Django app using a view function. Then I made a derivative joke involving a beloved American game show. After that I showed you how to machine to handle webhooks over the Internet. Finally, we proved that . what webhooks are how to handle webhooks configure your local development all of this actually works I hope you learned something, and thanks for reading! . This code is pulled almost verbatim from my project Lintly , a continuous Python code linting service that integrates with GitHub. If you’d like to keep track of your Python code quality then Lintly can help. Check it out at lintly.com Also, if you’re into the whole Twitter thing then follow me @gmconnaughey .

Handling webhooks using Django and ngrok

I released to the world. The app is called Lintly, and it is a code quality checker that helps keep codebases squeaky clean. A few weeks ago a little web app Lintly is a name I’m really happy with. It’s short, it’s a word you won’t find in the dictionary, and it evokes , which is its purpose for existing. But perhaps best of all, I was able to get the URL lintly.com! 🎉 code linting In this article I will go over the steps I took to brainstorm and ultimately decide on a name for the app. It is my belief that following these steps can make the entire process much simpler. For the rest of the article I will use the word “app” to mean an app, a startup, or a side project. Heads up: What you’ll need First, let’s gather some resources to help us name the app. Make sure the following items are handy: A notebook A (you can’t go wrong with a ) pen Pilot G2 A web browser Thinking up a name Below are 7 steps you can take to help you come up with a name for your app. They should be followed in order. Step 1: Write one sentence that describes what your app does The first thing you should do is write one short sentence that explains what your app does. You’ll use this sentence to help come up with the words that will form the name. After writing your sentence, underline the in the sentence. These are the words that best relate to your app. key words For Lintly, I came up with the following sentence: __________ tracks your code quality and reports any violations. In my example, I underlined , , , and . In retrospect, the word “code” is probably too generic and “violations” would have been a good one to underline. The point is we need some words to start with. tracks code quality reports Step 2: Come up with a list of base words Next, it is time to come up with some that can be incorporated into the app’s name. So brush off that dusty ol’ thesaurus or head over to . base words thesaurus.com To create your base words, enter each of the words you underlined in step 1 into thesaurus.com. For each word, read the list of synonyms and write down the ones that you think could potentially work in a name. At this point you should be very liberal with the words you consider; if you’re on the fence then go ahead and write it down. Here are some of the base words I came up with: clean, sweep, neat, pure, trim, crisp — these all related to and quality cleanliness score, grade, rate, tally, summary — these all relate to and reporting scoring grumble, declare, proclaim, inform — these all relate to and tracking notifying Step 3: Come up with accompanying words Lots of companies and apps have names that are one word. Twitter, Pocket, , and come to mind immediately. Other apps combine words or portions of words to make one new word. Some examples would be Netflix (“net” + “flix”) and Feedly (“feed” + the suffix “-ly”). Google Amazon For step 3, write down as many that are related to your app. These words are typically: accompanying words is a common one, as in Lintly or Feedly. is also common, as in GitHub or ZenHub. Finally, the suffix , as in Quizlet. Suffixes. -ly -hub -let but aren’t a main focus. I added “git” and “code” as accompanying words for Lintly, even though the main focus of the app is on cleaning and quality. Words that relate loosely to your app Tip: For help coming up with accompanying words, look to your browsers bookmark bar. There are likely several websites you visit that have suffixes in their name. Step 4: Brainstorm Steps 1–3 are all about providing input for this step. This is the classic brainstorming step. Use your app’s sentence, base words, and accompanying words to think of as many company names as you can. Combine base words and suffixes. Combine base words with other base words. When you think of new words or themes during brainstorming then be sure to write them down in the base words or accompanying words sections. Here are some other things you can do in this step to come up with a name: Misspell words (Netflix, Reddit) Remove letters (Tumblr, Toggl, Modernizr) Create a portmanteau (Pin + Interest = , Code + Academy = ) Pinterest Codecademy Add numbers (37signals) Change your base words into another language like Spanish or French The notes I took when thinking up a name for Lintly Step 5: Narrow the options down Now it’s time to narrow down the names you came up with while brainstorming. There are a few criteria I like to use to easily get rid of some of the names: . These can be names that are too generic, too long, or don’t make sense. I also marked off a few names were too negative. Remove names that immediately stand out as bad (you should really love the final name you choose). Remove names you are on the fence about . To find this out, go to and enter each word into the search bar. Keep in mind there are other possibilities for a domain, like using a .io or .net domain instead. You could also prefix the domain with a word like “get” (getbootstrap.com). Remove names that dont have a .com domain available namecheap.com . Of course, this is only if Twitter is important to you. If it is and you can’t find a decent alternative then remove the name. Remove names whose Twitter handle is unavailable After all of this you should be left with a few decent choices. If not then go back to Step 4 and start brainstorming again. Step 6: Sleep on it! There is no need to make a decision right away — in fact, you should sleep on it! You may really like or hate a name at first, but giving it a night or two might change your mind. Take a night off and look at your list the next day. Do any names stand out to you now? If so, then great! Now it’s time to… Step 7: Pick a name There is nothing left to do but choose one of the names. If you are on the fence about the name then it’s probably best to mark it off and go back to brainstorming. But if you truly love one name more than all the others then congrats! You have a name for your app, your side project, or your startup. Conclusion Naming an app doesn’t have to be hard. The trick is to clear off your schedule for about an hour and focusing on the task at hand. If you brainstorm long enough then there will be lots of input. Combine the input in different ways and eventually you’ll have a name that you love. Thanks for reading, and good luck with your next gig! If you’re a Python developer who wants to keep track of their code’s cleanliness then check out my latest project, Lintly . You can also connect with me on Twitter @gmcconnaughey or see what I’m up to on GitHub .

A Quick 7-Step Guide for Naming Your Next App or Startup

I the release of a project I’ve been working on for a few months. The project is called . It is a continuous code quality checking tool that lints your code when you push to . I won’t go into detail about what Lintly is here — you can read about that in the other blog post or go to . Instead, I’d like to discuss my experience creating my first proper side project, some of the mistakes that I made writing it, and how I fixed the mistakes. recently announced Lintly Python GitHub lintly.com Lintly is a Django 1.9 application that runs on Python 2.7. Technical Note: The Mistakes Mistake #1: Making functions do too much Mistake #2: Using magic strings Mistake #3: Putting third-party API calls everywhere Mistake #4: Feature creep Mistake #5: Comparing my app to others Mistake #1: Making functions do too much My, how code can become a big bowl of spaghetti very quickly. And don’t get me wrong, I love a good bowl of spaghetti. But when it comes to code, I’m not a fan. This mistake was mostly made out of laziness. I wrote functions that were too large, did too much, and knew about things they had no business knowing about. It turns out this trap is very easy to get into when you dive in coding without much planning. Let me give you an example. The two methods below are a part of the class. A build occurs when Lintly pulls down code from GitHub, lints it, stores the results, and sends out notifications. Here’s how a linted a repo originally: Build Build This is rough, and a clear violation of the , which states the following: Single Responsibility Principle A class should have only one reason to change. In this example, a does more than it should. It knows about the CLI and also parses the results of flake8. It should really hand all of this (linting + parsing) off to another class. Build flake8 How I fixed the mistake I decided to create a new class that would house the logic that could be shared between all linters. Builds could instantiate a linter and use that instead of doing the linting themselves. Linter Here was my second attempt: Much better! A build is no longer running CLI tools on the command line and no longer parsing its own results. This is much more extensible as well, as the tool is no longer hard-coded into the build. It will be a lot easier to add linters in the future. flake8 Mistake #2: Using magic strings Currently, Lintly only works with GitHub. In a future release, I plan to make Lintly work with other services like GitLab and BitBucket. That’s why URLs are in the form of or . The portion stands for GitHub. When you go to a page in Lintly, you go there in the context of an external Git service. That way the backend code knows which API tokens to use, which repos to show you, and which organizations to show you. /gh/dashboard/ /gh/new/ gh This is what the URL looks like: url(r'^(?P<service>gh|dummy)/',include('lintly.apps.projects.urls', namespace='projects')), And here is how that maps to a view function: That looks okay. The URL ensures that the service variable will only ever be or (more on later). In the future, I can add and so that URLs and views work with GitLab and BitBucket respectively. gh dummy dummy gl bb The problem was in my templates. My templates would hard-code the variable all over the place. For example, here’s what a button would look like: gh How I fixed the mistake To fix this I introduce a new variable into all templates. This variable can be passed to URLs so that all URLs are relative to the current page’s service. I did this via a context processor: service Now when I need a URL, I simply pass along the to the template tag: service url Mistake #3: Putting third-party API calls everywhere Lintly uses several third-party APIs, the most important of which is the GitHub API. I started out putting API calls directly in my views, models, and template tags. For example, here’s what the method looked like originally: User.get_projects() Notice that this creates a client object directly (the client comes from the great library). Unfortunately, the method was called from the project sidebar (the sidebar on the left-hand side of each and every page while logged into Lintly). This meant I had to mock the method on every single view test…quite the nightmare! Github Github PyGithub get_projects get_projects How I fixed the mistake I made this change along with the change in Mistake #2. That’s right, the good ol’ variable. service First, I refactored all interactions with GitHub into their own class: the class. This is a simple wrapper around the PyGithub library. I also created a called that would simulate the interactions with an external Git service (like GitHub). GitHubBackend Stub object DummyGitBackend Now when I need to call an external service I get a instance depending on the . In production, is always , which means we always use the class to make API calls. In unit tests, is always , and the stub class is used. This ensures that my tests never call out to GitHub. GitBackend service service 'gh' GitHubBackend service 'dummy' DummyGitBackend Here is the new implementation of : User.get_projects() Mistake #4: Feature creep I love using for simple project management. That’s why I used it for Lintly. Trello For Lintly, I have a Trello board with 4 columns: 1. To-Do - v1.02. To-Do - Beta3. Doing4. Done My workflow was simple: pull cards from the lane and move them into the lane. When I finished the feature, I would commit the code and move the card from to . When all items in were finished, then the was ready to release. Beta Doing Doing Done Beta Beta My trusty Trello board This sounds simple enough, right? The problem is how easy it is to move items from to . I would sometimes see a feature in the lane and convince myself that I could easily throw that into the as well. This may not seem like a big deal, but doing that over and over again ensured that I would miss my own personal deadlines to have the Lintly beta released. v1.0 Beta v1.0 Beta How I fixed my mistake I created a second Trello board called “Lintly v1.0” and moved the lane over to that board. Just the simple act of making the lane harder to see on a daily basis meant that I was much less likely to move its cards over to the . To-Do - v1.0 Beta Stay focused when you are working on a beta. Figure out which features are an absolute must and ignore all the rest until the beta is released. Mistake #5: Comparing my app to others Unless you are creating an app that is based on an entirely original idea, you’ll probably find yourself making this same mistake. The mistake is comparing your app (and perhaps even yourself) to others. I thought of the idea for Lintly in June while I was driving my wife and I home from our honeymoon. I broke international car-napping laws and woke my wife up to have her type a note on my phone. The note was four words: Flake8 As A Service. At the time this seemed wholly original. I couldn’t believe that no one else had thought of this! We have sites like that continuously check your code’s test coverage, so why not have the same for linting. I had to make this quickly. CodeCov As I started working on Lintly over the next month or two I realized that I was less original than I thought. There were other sites like Landscape, which lints Python, or HoundCI, which comments on GitHub PRs. This realization was certainly disappointing. Those apps are great and I feared I could never make anything as good as them. I stop working on Lintly for at a time due to discouragement. How I fixed the mistake Finally, something clicked, and that something is what helped me push through and finally release Lintly. That was the realization of two things: 1. Competition is a good thing2. Everyone needs a side project There will almost certainly always be competition for an application you are making, and that is perfectly fine. All you can do is make the application the best that you can and enjoy working on it. And if nothing else, it will always look good on a resumé! Conclusion Lintly isn’t perfect and it never will be. As you can see, I made lots of mistakes making it. But I also learned a lot about creating projects from start to (kind of) finish and about releasing them. It was a lot of fun to make and it will continue to be fun to work on as I add new features like Python 3 support and support for other linters. If you’d like to try out Lintly, head over to lintly.com and sign up for the beta. It’s completely free for open source repos and it always will be. 😎 Oh, and I’m on Twitter !

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