Monday, April 09, 2018

How can I become a software developer who only designs?

A young programmer asked me, "How can I become a software developer who only designs the whole software architecture and gives instructions to other developers rather than actually coding by myself?"

I told him he could do that right away, as long as he didn’t care if the other developers listened to his instructions and followed them. And if he didn't care of he was paid.

In general, software developers will not follow the lead of someone for whose designs they have no respect. And why would they respect your designs unless you had previously proved yourself by what you’ve built?

So, build things, and build more things, until you demonstrate that others have some reason to follow your lead.


And, at the same time, work on your people skills, because even if you’re the greatest designer in the world, if you’re a self-centered jerk, nobody will follow you or your designs.

For more on designing, see

Monday, March 26, 2018

March Madness or December Dementia

Every March, the USA goes wild with something called "March Madness," a pair of college basketball tournaments. The format of the tournaments is called "single elimination," which means that candidate teams are dropped out of the tournament when they lose. Eventually, one team remains, and they are the "winners."

So, what is the overall effect of this type of tournament? The men's tournament starts with 64 of the best teams in the nation, and when all is done, 63 of them have become "losers." No matter how good their season's record may have been, they ended that season with a loss—something to remain on their minds until next year.

I enjoy watching March Madness, but I think it could be improved. At least, there could be another tournament with a much more satisfactory result. Here's how it would go:

First, we choose the 64 worst teams of the season. Then we pair them off to play one another. The winner of each game is dropped out of the tournament, and the losers are paired for the next round. 

This elimination of winners is continued until only one team remains. They are the winners of the tournament. And, notice, that every other team has ended their season with a victory. Doesn't that feel much better?

Now perhaps this sounds like a stupid idea, but in fact it's extremely popular in the business world. Managers devise award systems that select one or a few individuals (rarely teams) as "winners." In doing so, they have managed to make everyone else feel like "losers."

I guess the theory is the these "losers" will be motivated to work harder or smarter for the next award cycle, and I suppose that sometimes that happens. What I've seen, however, is quite the opposite. Most people respond to "losing" by losing their motivation in the next round.


I've noticed that many of these management awards are given at the end of each year. Maybe a few smart managers could come up with not a March Madness but a December Dementia system that would positively motivate all their employees.

www.geraldmweinberg.com

Saturday, March 24, 2018

How do I fix a really difficult bug in programming?

Here was the question:

"How do I fix a really difficult bug in programming?"

Here was my first answer:

There is no such thing as a “difficult bug.”

I suspect my answer requires further explanation. First of all, I doubt that you have experienced actual bugs in your computer, the kind with 8 legs that bite and swarm. I have, a couple of times, but they are rare, and usually not difficult to eradicate.

Perhaps you are talking about errors, but using inaccurate language. In that case, I will assert “there is no such thing as a difficult error.” The same error might be handled easily by a different person. I have seen that circumstance often. For instance, I once spent a month trying to pinpoint a coding error. When I finally asked the help of a colleague, she found it in less than two minutes.

No, there are no difficult errors, but there are people who have difficulty with an error. We have all been there, and we tend to want to blame the error rather than ourselves.

So, the first thing you need to do to handle a “difficult bug” is to ask yourself,

“What is it about me that is making this error so difficult to handle?”

Perhaps you are having difficulty because you are impatient, or think failure to handle the error will make you look bad to your boss or colleagues.

Perhaps pressure to handle the error is throwing you off your center, distorting your thinking.

Perhaps you do not know enough about the system with the error, or the language in which the program is written.

Perhaps your mind is on other things in your life, things distracting you because they are more important to you than this darn “bug.”

Maybe you should discuss this error with a colleague or two, What is it about you that is keeping you from doing that?


Anyway, good luck in your quest for resolution.

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

My most insidious bug

I was asked, "As a coder, what is the most insidious bug you have ever come across, and how did you find it?"

It’s really hard to pick one error out of hundreds I’ve encountered in my long career, but some of the toughest have been:

  • compiler errors, where the compiler has created object code incorrectly. We usually found these by hacking around, changing the source code to express the program in different ways, or by examining the object code the compiler had produced.
  • hardware errors, both from the failure of a component and an actual design error in the hardware. Such errors are not as frequent today as they were in the old days of vacuum tubes (or relays), but in a way that infrequency makes them all the more difficult when they do occur, because we have so little experience with them.
  • requirements errors, where the program has actually solved the wrong problem. These errors can usually be found only after users have been in contact with the code for some time, and only when there is some communication channel between the users and the programmers.
  • So, what were your most insidious errors?

You can read more about errors and their consequences in

Errors: Bugs, Boo-Boos, and Blunders (https://leanpub.com/errors)

Saturday, January 06, 2018

New: #System #Design #Heuristics

You'd think that after publishing books for half a century, I'd know how to write a book. If that's what you think, you'd be wrong.

Sure, I've even written a book on writing books (Weinberg on Writing, the Fieldstone Method), and I've applied those methods to dozens of successful books. But way back around 1960, I started collecting notes on the process of design, thinking I would shortly gather them into a book. Back then, I didn't call these bits and pieces "fieldstones," but that's what they turned out to be: the pieces that, when assembled properly, would ultimately become my design book.

Ultimately? Assembled properly? Aye, there's the rub!

Building walls from randomly found fieldstones requires patience. So does writing books by the Fieldstone Method. My Introduction to General Systems Thinking took fourteen years to write. But a writer only lives one lifetime, so there's a limit to patience. I'm growing old, and I'm beginning to think that fifty years is as close to "ultimately" as I'm going to get.

So, I've begun to tackle the task of properly assembling my collection of design fieldstones. Unfortunately, it's a much larger collection that I'd ever tackled before. My Mac tells me I have more than 36,000,000 digitized bytes of notes. My filing cabinets told me I had more than twenty-five pounds of paper notes, but I've managed to digitize some of them and discard others, so there's only a bit more than ten pounds left to consider.

For the past couple of years, I've periodically perused these fieldstones and tried to assemble them "properly." I just can't seem to do it. I'm stuck.

Some writers would say I am suffering from "writer's block," but I believe "writer's block" is a myth. I've published three other books in these frustrating years, so I can't be "blocked" as a writer, but just over this specific design book. You can hear me talk more about the Writer's Block myth on YouTube 

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77xrdj9YH3M&t=7s]

but the short version is that "blocking" is simply a lack of ideas about how to write. I finally decided to take my own advice and conjure up some new ideas about how to write this design book.

Why I Was Stuck

To properly assemble a fieldstone pile, I always need an "organizing principle." For instance, my recent book, Do You Want to Be a (Better) Manager? is organized around the principle of better management. Or, for my book, Errors, the principle is actually the title.  So, I had been thinking the organizing principle for a book on design ought to be Design

Well, that seemed simple enough, but there was a problem. Everybody seemed to know what design is, but nobody seemed able to give a clear, consistent definition that covered all my notes. I finally came to the conclusion that's because "design" is not one thing, but many, many different things.

In the past, I ran a forum (SHAPE: Software as a Human Activity Practiced Effectively) whose members were among the most skilled software professionals in the world. We held a number of threads on the subject, "What is Design?" The result was several hundred pages of brilliant thoughts about design, all of which were correct in some context. But many of them were contradictory.

Some said design was a bottom-up process, but others asserted it was top-down. Still others talked about some kind of sideways process, and there were several of these. Some argued for an intuitive process, but others laid out an algorithmic, step-by-step process. There were many other variations: designs as imagined (intentional designs), designs as implemented, and designs as evolved in the world. All in all, there were simply too many organizing principles—certainly too many to compress into a title, let alone organize an entire book.

After two years of fumbling, I finally came up with an idea that couldn't have been implemented fifty years ago: the book will be composed of a variety of those consulting ideas that have been most helpful to my clients' designers. I will make no attempt (or very little) to organize them, but release them incrementally in an ever-growing ebook titled Design Heuristics.

How to Buy System Design Heuristics

My plan for offering the book is actually an old one, using a new technology. More than a century ago Charles Dickens released many of his immortal novels one chapter at a time in the weekly newspaper. Today, using the internet, I will release System Design Heuristics a single element at a time to subscribing readers.

To subscribe to the book, including all future additions, a reader will make a one-time payment. The price will be quite low when the collection is small, but will grow as the collection grows. That way, early subscribers will receive a bargain in compensation for the risk of an unknown future. Hopefully, however, even the small first collection will be worth the price. (If not, there will be a full money-back guarantee.)

Good designs tend to have unexpected benefits. When I first thought of this design, I didn't realize that it would allow readers to contribute ideas that I might incorporate in each new release. Now I aware of that potential benefit, and look forward to it.

Before I upload the first increment of System Design Heuristics, I'll wait a short while for feedback on this idea from my readers. If you'd like to tell me something about the plan, email me or write a comment on this blog.

Thanks for listening. Tell me what you think.

Sunday, December 31, 2017

What is Software?


Ir's a new year, so let's start out with something fundamental, cleaning up something that's bothered me for many years.

The other day I was lunching with a computer-naive friend who asked, "What is software?"

Seems like it would be an easy question for those of us who make and break software for a living, but I had to think carefully to come up with an explanation that she could understand:

Software is that part of a computer system that adapts the machinery to various different uses. For instance, with the same computer, but different software, you could play a game, compute your taxes, write a letter or a book, or obtain answers to your questions about dating.

I then explained to her that it’s unfortunate that early in the history of computers this function was given the name “software,” in contrast to “hardware.” What it should have been called was “flexibleware.”

Unfortunately the term “soft” has been interpreted by many to mean “easy,” which is exactly wrong. Don't be fooled. 
What we call “hardware” should have been called “easyware,” and what we call “software” could then have been appropriately called “difficultware.”

Monday, December 25, 2017

Unnecessary Code

We were asked, "How can I tell if my code does extra unnecessary work?"
To answer this question well, I’d need to know what you mean by “unnecessary.” Not knowing your meaning, I’ll just mention one kind of code I would consider unnecessary: code that makes your program run slower than necessary but can be replaced with faster code.

To rid your program of such unnecessary code, start by timing the program’s operations. If it’s fast enough, then you’re done. You have no unnecessary code of this type.

If it’s not fast enough, then you’ll want to run a profiler that shows where the time is being spent. Then you search those areas (there can be only one that consumes more than half the time) and work it over, looking first at the design.

There’s one situation I’ve encountered where this approach can bring you trouble. Code that’s fast enough with some sets of data may be unreasonably slow with other sets. The most frequent case of this kind is when the algorithm’s time grows non-linearly with the size of the data. To prevent this kind of unnecessary code, you must do your performance testing with (possibly artificially) large data sets.

Paradoxically, though, some algorithms are faster with large data sets than small ones.

Here’s a striking example: My wife, Dani, wanted to generate tests in her large Anthropology class. She wanted to give all students the same test, but she wanted the questions for each student to be given in a random order, to prevent cheating by peeking. She gave 20 questions to a programmer who said he already had a program that would do that job. The program, however, seemed to fall into an unending loop. Closer examination eventually showed that it wasn't an infinite loop, but would have finally ended about the same time the Sun ran out of hydrogen to burn.

Here’s what happened: The program was originally built to select random test questions from a large (500+ questions) data base. The algorithm would construct a test candidate by choosing, say, twenty questions at random, then checking the twenty to see if there were any duplicates among those chosen. If there were duplicates, the program would discard that test candidate and construct another.

With a 500 question data base, there was very little chance that twenty questions chosen at random would contain a duplicate. It could happen, but throwing out a few test candidates didn’t materially affect performance. But, when the data base had only twenty questions, and all Dani wanted was to randomize the order of the questions, the situation was quite different.

Choosing twenty from twenty at random (with replacement) was VERY likely to produce duplicates, so virtually every candidate was discarded, but the program just ground away, trying to find that rare set of twenty without duplicates.

As an exercise, you might want to figure out the probability of a non-duplicate set of twenty. Indeed, that’s an outstanding way to eliminate unnecessary code: by analyzing your algorithm before coding it.

Over the years, I’ve seen many other things you might consider unnecessary, but which do no harm except to the reputation of the programmer. For example:
* Setting a value that’s already set.
* Sorting a table that’s already sorted.
* Testing a variable that can have only one value.

These redundancies are found by reading the program, and may be important for another reason besides performance. Such idiotic pieces of code may be indications that the code was written carelessly, or perhaps modified by someone without full understanding. In such cases, there’s quite likely to be an error nearby, so don’t just ignore them.