Formats
A format is a shape that has already decided part of what belongs in it.
It has also decided part of what it will not hold. What goes in is yours. The rules come with the shape. Each one is written down: a page at most, plain text, free. They name no course and no year.
A brief can be a format. An interview is a format. A monologue is a format.
Where a format carries a view of mine, the view is marked and set apart from the rules around it. Those blocks are not part of the format. Take the rules and leave them, or argue with them; either way what is left works.
Searches the rules inside every format. Runs in your browser; nothing is sent anywhere.
A handover, in six lines
Giving somebody one working method and going quiet. Two of its six lines are never sent.
A revision in public, in five lines
Going back to the same room to withdraw something you said there. The pair is the teaching.
A weird connection, in six lines
One structure borrowed from outside your field, named in the work so it can be counted later.
A negotiation, in six lines
Working with AI to make something. What arrived from the model, and the four decisions you made about it.
A curse, in six lines
A prediction, not an insult. The harm is written as something granted rather than taken away.
An admission to a sanctuary, in five lines
A sanctuary of ideas — a place where an idea stays alive without having to justify itself. Ends in leaving something alone.
A worksheet, in ten steps
For making a worksheet, not filling one in. Each step gives an instruction and then complicates it.
A journal that returns, in five decisions
A fixed index and a long interval. The return is the format; a single pass is a themed collection.
An almost, in six lines
The conversation that did not happen, and what has been added to it since.
Intelligence, in seven lines
Anything called intelligent is doing two unlike kinds of thinking. This takes them apart and asks where the rule is.