How to accept an invitation

This article originally appeared on the now defunct Geek Etiquette website.

Traditional etiquette is pretty spot-on about accepting social engagements in the first place. A quick rundown for those who aren’t familiar:

You get an invitation. For geeks, it probably comes in email, unless everyone has moved to Google Calendar without me looking. For big ticket events like weddings, you might still get a written invite. You reply by the same method you received the invite, unless another method is specified in the invitation itself.

You should reply to all personal invitations that come from people you know, either accepting or declining. A personal invitation is one-to-one (or one-to-a-few, in the case where households or partners are invited together). For public events like LUG meetings, you typically don’t reply unless there’s specific instructions to, and usually those will ask for acceptances only. For those, general invitations are issued to the public, rather than specific invites to individuals. In case of doubt though, it doesn’t hurt to reply.

Responses should be timely and brief. Let’s look at those.

If the invitation has an RSVP date, this is the drop-dead date for responding. The date is typically influenced by things like the date on which your friend must tell their caterers the final numbers, or on which she wants to do that giant shopping run to buy all the pizza ingredients. Replying before the RSVP date is the best thing to do and you should aim to do this almost all of the time. If you can accept or decline right away, do that, so you don’t forget.

If you’ve missed the RSVP date by a few days you should typically send profuse apologies and, if you want to accept, non-pushy inquiries about whether a late acceptance is all right. If you’ve missed it by much more, you need to decline the invitation with profuse apologies for being so late. Accepting is no longer in the question, unless your friend tells you that you can do so. Don’t ask; if this offer is going to be made, they will make it.

If the invitation has no RSVP date, you reply as soon as you can make a decision. You can work out a rough drop-dead date, usually: when do they need to start spending money? For an average sized informal party, it’s probably a couple of days before. For a trip overseas, it’s probably several months before. You need to reply before you think they started spending money on guests.

Now, to your brief replies. If you’re accepting an invitation, you say something like “I’ll be there, and I’m really looking forward to it.” There’s special wording for replying to formal invites, basically mirroring the invitation back at them. (If they said “Ms Nerd requests the pleasure of Mr Geek’s company on the 9th June”, Mr Geek replies “Mr Geek accepts with pleasure Ms Nerd’s invitation for the 9th June”.) You likely only need this for weddings and there are lots of websites with full examples of how to word replies to formal invites. Otherwise, all you need to do is accept and express that you’re looking forward to it. Don’t go into any and all sacrifices you’re making to come. (“It’s really a pain to get flights that weekend, and my usual travel agent is
away, and I’m going to miss my new puppy, but I’m coming because I just love you that much.”)

Once you’ve accepted the invitation, you regard this as a fixed engagement and you must either turn up as you said you would, or break your word, a subject we’re going into soon. You never just fail to show up and don’t either warn them beforehand or apologise afterwards.

If you’re declining, the excuse you use in all circumstances is either “I’m so sorry, I have a prior engagement, I would have loved to be there” or “I’m so sorry, I won’t be in town, I would have loved to be there”. Not being in town gets its own excuse because ‘prior engagement’ refers to plans for a particular day. It just sounds weird to call your six month holiday overseas a ‘prior engagement’.

‘Prior engagement’ is what’s called a ‘polite fiction’: it covers everything from a real prior commitment to your need to wash your hair that night. That is, in the event that you can’t be bothered or just don’t want to, the phrase for this is still “I’m so sorry, I have a prior engagement.” (Alternative phrases include “I already have plans”.) Almost all explanation beyond that comes across more as “your event sounds dumb” than “I really wanted to come but can’t”.

One geekly explanation for this, if you like, is cognitive load. You care deeply about not liking smoky venues, or not liking events that Boring Dude is at. That’s fine, that’s why you’re allowed to decline invitations and organise your own events which are in fresh air and to which Boring Dude is not invited. There’s no reason to bring it up for a particular event, because that event is already being organised and there’s nothing that can be done about it without the organiser making radical changes, so you’re just adding to her load of things to fret about. If smoky venues and Boring Dude are about to cost the organiser your friendship, you should bring this up separately when a particular event isn’t under discussion.

The only exception to offering generic excuses is when invited to something by intimates who know what you’re doing most days: partners and very best friends. With them, you should be more open. Etiquette by and large is a guide to social relationships, not intimate ones.

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How to accept an invitation by Mary Gardiner is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

Thoughts on low hassle wedding planning

This document contains my thoughts on low hassle wedding planning.

Before I start, I’d like to state that there’s nothing wrong with putting more work and time into your wedding than I suggest here. An immaculately organised wedding can be a lot of fun. But there might be reasons why you want to organise a wedding in a low hassle way and this document then discusses some choices you could consider, based on my own wedding.

It’s also not intended as a passive-aggressive critique of other weddings I’ve attended, most of which were more formal and probably involved more organisation than mine. I love weddings. They’re really happy parties that unite people. This suggests one way of organising them for people who happen to be in a similar situation to the one my husband and I were in.

One of the lowest hassle ways to organise a wedding is to make it only about as complicated as a party you’ve thrown in the past and enjoyed. Throw that party again and have a marriage ceremony during it. It’ll be fun. However, this guide isn’t really about that kind of wedding either, although you should consider it. My husband and I wanted to throw a bigger party than we ever had before. Therefore this guide is for the inexperienced giant party thrower who wants to plan a wedding without going crazy.

About my own wedding

My husband and I became engaged in late December 2006. We married in early May 2007, about four and a half months after the engagement. We started organising it in earnest in early February 2007, meaning that we spent about three months planning it. The date and essentials were chosen by mid February. We wanted to have a short engagement because we had been de facto for over seven years and felt that we didn’t need a long engagement after that. We both worked or studied full-time throughout the planning and organised the wedding in our spare time.

Our wedding was held on a Sunday morning in Sydney, Australia (the city we lived in) in a harbour-side park and was conducted by a civil celebrant (no religious service). It was followed by a lunch reception with a sit-down three course meal for seventy people, with the guests split about equally between family and friends.

Things to plan

This is a guide to a minimum list of things you should probably plan on including in your day, assuming you have guests beyond very close friends.

  1. a wedding ceremony where some authority figure joins the two of you in marriage
  2. a party afterwards featuring the ceremony guests and sometimes others, and including:
    • food
    • speeches of thanks and praise;
    • letting people gush at you;
    • taking some gifts home; and
    • having fun.

Everyone except the ceremony is totally optional, but if you are having guests, they tend to expect a little recognition of the solemn nature of the event per the above.

Generally speaking, you want to consider a private function, rather than, say, dragging everyone to the nearest bar (unless your friends and the bar regulars are the same people anyway I guess) to give you space to celebrate with your own friends. But again this is optional. We considered (although didn’t end up) going to a salsa club after the food (taking preparatory lessons when my husband travels for work a fair bit turned out to be high hassle).

Money

This is not a guide to low cost weddings necessarily. Low cost does not always overlap with low hassle, unless your plans really scale down with your budget. If you’re trying to do a sit down meal for 150 people on one third the budget most caterers charge, this will actually be high hassle. That said, since worrying about money is the highest hassle thing of all unless the relationship is on the rocks, I’ll share some thoughts.

There are two schools of thought about budget. In both, you choose the rough date of the wedding and figure out how much you can budget (you need a rough date if you have to save for it). You then: either make the guest list and afterwards work out how much you can afford to spend per head; or you decide how much you want to spend per head, get a numbers limit from that, and then make the guest list. This really depends on whether having everyone you want there is most important to you, or having a particular party is most important.

Now, those figures that bridal magazines quote about the average wedding costing twenty or thirty or fifty thousand dollars are probably wrong. Why? Because they get them from surveys of their readers. People who get married at the courthouse with their four best friends to see and who have a barbecue in their backyard afterwards to celebrate don’t participate in those polls, because bridal magazines have nothing to say to them. Hence, the numbers are skewed towards people who have the kind of weddings bridal magazines discuss: that is, big expensive ones.

However, you really can spend many thousands just on the less fussy bits of a wedding. How? Well, have you ever taken fifty people out to a restaurant for dinner and paid the entire bill by yourself? No, but you can imagine the expense right? Well, catering a sit-down reception for those same fifty people is at least that expensive. And generally speaking, the bar tab will cost about one third to one half as much again if you have an open tab.

People talking about low cost weddings talk about minimising the cost of the dress, skipping the matching napkins and engraved invitations and so on, and that stuff sure does cost. But really the money is in the wining and dining. To cut lots of money, cut either guest numbers or cost per head. As regards the latter, tea and cake is cheaper than buffets is cheaper than sit down. (As a woman though, I’m obliged to pass on this horror story, in which we learn that a wedding that your family organises for you with free labour is low cost but not necessarily low hassle, at least for them.)

One of the worst pieces of advice I see around is Check out ‘quirky’ venues like museums, galleries and aquariums! They will be thrilled to do a wedding, and really go all out for a good price! I don’t know where these people live, but in Sydney, museums, galleries and aquariums all have dedicated event planners and function spaces, they have preferred caterers, they do weddings all the time, and they charge just as much as any other function venue. It still might be fun, but it’s not cheap.

One other thing about money: the wedding surcharge. Many vendors such as hairdressers, florists, cake makers, reception venues and dress shops do charge extra for wedding associated services. You can save some money by buying the same stuff either from a non-wedding vendor or not saying it’s for a wedding. As examples, I bought my (green) dress from a place that specialises in generic formal events, I didn’t tell my hairdresser what I needed my hair put up for, I bought my bouquet ready-made from a florist the afternoon before the wedding and my reception venue was a place that usually does other parties. You need to be a bit careful with this game though: some places will refuse or withdraw service if they find out it’s for a wedding (cue horror stories of limousines refusing to pick up when they see a woman in a white dress) so you probably can’t lie to your reception venue for example. You could be a conscientious objector and refuse to deal with venues that charge extra for weddings though. Yes, I know they often do because weddings are such amazing hassle, but yours won’t be.

Research and overall planning

Wedding research is a pain in the neck. It’s not an industry hugely open to comparison shopping by Internet users. I eventually got fed up with all the call our wedding planner for a customised quote for your needs — half the time they want to meet with you! — and decided that I wouldn’t deal with any vendor who didn’t have prices and associated details on their website. We ended up backing down just once for the ceremony venue: we had to call the council to find out their site booking fee.

Broadly speaking, you have two options for any given service: a wedding specialist or a general service. Wedding specialists tend to be more expensive for the service, and they always have a bunch of extra charges for things like photography rights. But they also tend to have packages set up with the usual range of options: X amount of time for the ceremony, Y amount of time for photography, a Z meal with this menu. If you’re willing to pay for low hassle, and you’re OK with a fairly standard day and don’t want to have an off-beat wedding that takes it up to the wedding-industrial complex, going to a venue that does weddings a lot and that has an event planner on staff is fairly low hassle, except that you have to manage expectations and make it clear to them that they should take care of deciding the font on the place settings, the colour of the napkins and so on because they’re used to clients who want control over all that. Control is high hassle.

General services will generally be cheaper and more flexible about not expecting you to do the ‘standard’ for your flowers, or photography, or dancing, or table settings, or whatever the hell, but this requires some additional work from you to decide and sometimes specify how you want things to be.

We went with general services by and large, mostly for financial reasons and also because the expectations management of but we don’t have a bridal party, but I’m not hiring a car, but we don’t need a rehearsal and associated price negotiations gave me a headache.

One final thing: a big problem with weddings is the phenomenon of too much choice. There are, say, fifty to one hundred and fifty white dresses in bridal shops and then you choose the shoes to go with them. There have got to be at least one thousand places in Sydney (no, I exaggerate not at all) that could do a wedding reception. Each of the thousand places could conceivable offer you three menus to choose from. You need to limit your options. Make a list of, say, no more than five to ten candidates for big things like the reception, and choose just from those. For smaller things like invitations and dresses, keep it down to a few shops.

Choosing a city

This is your first big choice: home or away.

Having the wedding near or in your home town is low hassle because you’re somewhat familiar with the layout: what is easy to get to, what is hard to get to? Where are the restaurant reviews? The phone calls are local. If you have local friends most guests won’t have to travel and you can be a bit more flexible with dates (see below). One disadvantage is that if you want a dedicated week-long party your guests will tend to have their real lives in mind and will escape to them periodically: if they commit to coming away to a wedding on the other hand, they will have nothing to do except party with you.

Depending on family willingness, another fairly low hassle option is to have it in your parents’ or another family member’s home town and to rely on them at least for on-the-ground info and often for some organisation. This might even be lower hassle for you, but you need to avoid being exploitative about it. Do they really not mind doing that work for you?

Having it in a place where no one is local can be lowish hassle, but the usual low hassle way is to hire a wedding planner and a complete package so that you essentially just turn up and they guide you through it. Trying to plan your own wedding at a remove will be high hassle, and you’ll tend to want to do things like try and find larger all-in-one packages for bits of it, rather than do everything separately.

Marrying extremely far away (a ‘destination wedding’) is touted as low hassle because your guests self-select (only people willing to spend thousands to see you marry of dollars will come). But there are other hassles that replace it. Passports. Visas. Baggage allowances. Making sure that you marry legally in a place that doesn’t have the same laws (assuming you care, but people usually do). In many countries this is a pain in the neck, and involves substantial effort including filing paperwork from your home, getting translations done in official places, things like that. Sometimes an on-the-ground wedding planner can have that all in hand. You could also have a small legal wedding at home and an extra-legal wedding ceremony at the location.

Another option, not particularly low hassle but good if you have families that live at opposite ends of the earth, is to have one legal wedding ceremony and multiple receptions, one in each place where a bunch of your loved ones live. This is also the solution if you cannot bear the idea of making vows in front of a huge group: have a private wedding, often far away, and then a larger reception.

Setting a date and venue

As below, the usual minimum legal notice period in Australia is one month out, in some places it’s more, and in some places (notably Vegas) no notice is needed. When notice is required, you may need to know your celebrant and possibly venue at the time of giving notice.

That takes care of the government, what about the guests? The typical guideline is to issue invitations about six to eight weeks before the day. The reason for this is actually to be considerate to guests in both directions: too short and the trip is expensive, too long and they feel unable to decline because you gave them so much notice. Leaving room for polite excuses makes everyone happier. You don’t shanghai people into attending your wedding. If it’s a busy day for people (any public holiday, Valentine’s Day, any religious holiday) you can also send out ‘pre-invitations’ noting the date (called Save The Date cards) as much as a year ahead.

Saturdays are typical wedding days for secular and Christian weddings because they’re easy to travel for. You and your guests have Friday evening and Saturday morning to get there, and all day Sunday to get home without having to take time off. This is particularly true for evening receptions. Holiday long weekends are also popular for this reason, but since people plan for them earlier you need to consider notifying them earlier.

The trouble with Saturday, particularly in summer, is that places with the all-in-one packages are generally booked up fairly early, often the winter before. You’ll be able to find something on shorter notice, but there’s the extra hassle of ringing around and maybe going on waiting lists. (I only ever saw one wedding vendor with updated weekend-by-weekend availability on her website, and she was a photographer, so you won’t be able to work this out on the ‘net.)

Friday evening weddings share some of the advantages of Saturday, although out-of-town guests will have to take the Friday off, and using Sunday can avoid people taking time off if you have a morning or afternoon party instead of an evening one. If your guests are local and amenable to taking a day off work, weekdays are usually both cheaper and available on shorter notice. If you want a cheaper or shorter notice Saturday, winter is the time to marry. (In Sydney winter is also the sunniest time, so you then just have to worry about getting warm clothes to marry in.) All non-Saturdays will be available on shorter notice than Saturdays.

Before inviting people to an event, you usually need to tell them where to be and how long for. It’s also low hassle to make sure the basics are in place before inviting people anyway, so that there’s less fretting about only being ‘pencilled in’ or discovering that such-and-such is closed on holidays.

The crucial early steps are: find a reception venue and their available dates; choose an appropriate date or two from that; match it up with a celebrant who can do that date and then fix the date. Except in the case where your ceremony venue and celebrant are really particular (eg he is your parish priest and you are marrying in your parish church), it will generally be the reception venue that has the most constrained dates, so plan around them. Issue any invites after you have a firm booking with the ceremony venue, the celebrant and the reception venue if there is one.

One thing that would have saved me some hassle: make sure that you have written contracts with all vendors with all dates, times and services noted, and that your contract for the party specifies minimum and maximum guest numbers. If you don’t meet a minimum number you will generally have to pay for those empty places, but if you exceed a maximum they might have a fit about fire regulations or chair numbers and actually not be able to get guests in. Our reception venue told us a week out that their minimum was 60, yes, but their maximum was 70, which is an awfully narrow range to hit. We’d sort of assumed that it was maybe about 80. Never assume.

Guest list and invitations

The low hassle cut off point for numbers seems to be around 50 or 60, since it’s at that point where a lot of small venues like cafes can no longer fit all the guests, and you have to start looking around for large function rooms. It’s a little bit bigger if you want to do a standing reception (cake or cocktails, usually), most places can do 70 or 80. Again, there’s nothing wrong with having more people than that, just that you’ll have a harder time finding a venue. If you’re set on an ‘intimate’ feel, no more than 30 seems to be the right number.

Once you’ve sent them, there’s no low hassle way to withdraw an invitation, and Save The Date cards count as invitations for this purpose. Get your guest list right before issuing invitations. Withdrawing a wedding invitation is likely to distinctly cool a friendship. The only reason to pull one would be that the friendship has not only cooled on its own, but actually gone actively irretrievably bad. In the event that an invited couple breaks up in the lead up to the wedding, an invite is an invite, just put them on different tables. If one of them doesn’t know you all that well, it’s up to them to decide whether or not to come.

Frankly, I see these woes as a big argument against the standard issue of Save The Date cards: they just push this problem of determining the guest list forward a year. It’s much easier to decide eight weeks out which couples are committed enough for a joint invite, which friends from the gaming club are good friends and so on than it is a year out. Save The Date cards are really newfangled: they’ve been ‘standard’ for weddings for no more than about five years. Feel free to skip them, except where the wedding is at a busy time and you really do think people need a year’s notice to get it into their calendars. Even then, you could save them for your super-busy or super-close guests and determine the rest of the guest list when the invitations go out.

We sent out what were effectively Save The Date emails to out of town relatives as soon as we picked the date, friends who live in Sydney got notice via their invitations.

You plan on about ten or twenty percent of invitees saying no, apparently. It was about ten percent for us.

The general advice on cutting guest lists seems about right: cut whole groups of people. It’s easier not to invite anyone from work than it is to try and specify some more fine-grained rule like only my team or something. Where you do want to slice a group and only invite some of them, it’s generally that people you consider friends apart from the activity itself get an invite.

You absolutely must invite both halves of a long term couple. If you don’t, you will get that uh… can I bring my partner? call. For our wedding we had a simple rule: if someone had ever been introduced to us by name as a guest’s girlfriend or boyfriend (and there had been no breakup since), they got an invite. (There were a few guests forming attachments of unclear nature at the time our invites went out, or who are secretive about who they date, they didn’t seem to mind their possibly-partner not getting invited.) Likewise if they were living together, engaged, or married, even if we didn’t know one half. If you have friends who have more extended types of arrangements, check Ms Alternative.

You’ll usually want surnames for the invitations or place cards. (We had three people called ‘Jenny’ at our wedding.) It’s surprisingly hard to get surnames out of people when inquiring as to the name of their partner whom you also want to invite. I don’t have a good solution to this. I guess ask them for Eric’s partner’s full name or whatever.

It’s a good idea to ask everyone invited specifically by name. If you have one guest who will know no one else there and who you really think would do better bringing a friend or a date, just call him or her and ask for the name of the person to invite to come with them. They can explain to their friend that so-and-so has invited them as the other guest’s good friend or partner since they don’t know anyone at so-and-so’s wedding.

The split between family, family friends and friends of the couple is often difficult. When your parents are paying, an even split between people they want invited and people you want invited seems to work for a lot of people, when you’re paying and your family is fairly close this is probably still about right, otherwise you can strongly bias towards your preferred guests. If it gets nightmarish, consider two receptions, one to please family, and one to see your friends. However, this usually means that either family or friends have to miss the ceremony.

Extracting RSVPs is high hassle, there’s no way around it. Set your RSVP date at least a week before your drop-dead date (usually the date the caterer needs final numbers), ideally more. Have a polite friend or family member (your bridal party if you have one) ring or email around a reminder about the date when it’s passed by a few days. This brings in the vast bulk of late RSVPs really quickly. The last two or three may need a personal phone call from you. You will need to check, people who don’t think it’s necessary to RSVP are often under the impression that you understand that they are very busy and important people and will have allowed for them to just turn up anyway. (No, no one did this to us!)

Pay back your karma debt to the universe by never replying late ever again.

Low hassle ceremonies

About marriages in Australia

I’m inserting this section to explain some of the choices we made. If you’re not particularly interested in the legal issues surrounding marriages in Australia, head on down to the next section. If you are interested, please note that this is not legal advice. You can find official advice via the Attorney-General’s website. If you’re marrying elsewhere, and want the marriage recognised in Australia, see the Department of Foreign Affairs for advice on that.

Legal marriages in Australia need to be solemnised by an authorised celebrant. There are two types: religious and civil.

Religious celebrants are generally ministers (or similar) of a registered religion. Note that ministers aren’t automatically also registered religious celebrants, but you won’t often find one who isn’t. I suspect the religions simply hand over the list of names of ordained folk and the government authorises them automatically, or something like that. If you have a religious ceremony conducted by an authorised religious celebrant, there’s no need for any second civil ceremony as in some countries. Your marriage is legally recognised.

About 30% of weddings in Australia are religious at the moment. Anecdotally, this fairly low number is partly because many churches no longer like to marry people who aren’t active in their parish. It’s hard in particular to convince a Roman Catholic or Anglican minister to marry you for a reason that boils down to churches are pretty and traditional! They are also increasing insisting on a few meetings to discuss your faith, and pre-marriage counselling courses. So, a religious wedding is often high hassle unless you’re a regular attendee, particularly if you want anything that’s not standard for that religion (such as a Catholic wedding out of doors).

Civil celebrants are the other people who can conduct marriage ceremonies. They can conduct them anywhere in Australia at any time. You still need two witnesses at a minimum. There are about 150 words that are compulsorily inserted into the ceremony (as of 2004, a reminder that marriage is for opposite sex couples is among this compulsory material), the rest is between you and them. They are usually commercial vendors, but in some small country towns the courthouse officials will be registered celebrants. Civil celebrants have no fixed fee, so if you have a price in mind, shop around. You won’t have much chance of finding one who will do it cheaper than the registry will though.

Note that unlike in the US in particular it’s hard to become ordained in a religion (we don’t have mail order churches), and you can’t be married by any other person such as a Justice of the Peace or a ship captain or whoever. You also can’t become a civil celebrant particularly easily: you need to take a course which costs around $400, and go on a waiting list (that step is being abolished in September 2008). They also refuse registration if they suspect that you’re only doing it just for one particular wedding, rather than as an ongoing thing. So if you don’t have a suitable celebrant on hand for your wedding, you will generally need to hire one, you won’t often be able to get a particular person registered. This annoyed us, we would have liked to have been married by a friend rather than a stranger.

Finally, you usually must file a Notice of Intended Marriage with your celebrant at least one month and a day before your ceremony (ie, if your ceremony is Valentine’s Day, February 14, you need to file by January 13). If you were born in Australia the celebrant must see a proper Registry copy of your birth certificate, no other identity document suffices; if you were born elsewhere a passport might be acceptable. Death certificates of or divorce decrees from any previous spouses are needed too. The notice will need to have the date of the ceremony and the name of the celebrant on it (although if the celebrant falls though you can file additional paperwork to change it). Court officials can waive this waiting period for you, but that’s high hassle. A low hassle wedding in Australia is planned at least a month in advance, more if you don’t have identity documents to hand!

I believe there are arrangements in place to file the Notice in time from overseas, you don’t actually need to be resident in Australia to get it all set up.

Civil ceremony options

The lowest hassle option in Australia is a registry or courthouse wedding. These are held in either a registry office in the cities and larger towns or a room of a country courthouse (if you’re lucky, nicely done up, but sometimes not). You need two witnesses over the age of 18. Generally, the ceremony is as cheap as the cheapest celebrants or even more so. You will generally have to recite pre-written vows, the ceremony will be quite short, and in most places you can only have a few guests, somewhere between five and twenty. You may need to book further in advance for weekends and also Valentine’s Day and public holidays. In Sydney it costs over three hundred dollars to marry at the registry office on a weekend. I suspect it’s cheaper elsewhere, but don’t expect it to be free.

Another potentially fairly low hassle option for a larger or longer or more personal ceremony is to go with a celebrant who has a fairly cheap package skipping things like rehearsals. Celebrants who offer this will typically cost about the same as the registry offices seem to charge, freeing you up to choose the space and the number of guests, and not have set vows.

I never did solve the problem of finding a pretty place to marry indoors that wasn’t a church though. Outdoors is somewhat high hassle because you have to plan against bad weather. Commercial wedding chapels and university halls are very expensive. Community halls are often ugly. I don’t have friends or family with convenient old houses, and people who have old mansions are generally well aware of the market rates for marrying in them or on their grounds. We married in a park, and asked the reception venue if we could marry there in the event of rain, which would have been suboptimal since their open area wasn’t the most attractive space, but better than being rained on. Parks are pretty low hassle aside from weather issues, with two provisos: one is that you may have to pay a fee for public liability insurance purposes, and the other is that you generally won’t be able to reserve the whole park and might have to have your bridal party or family primed to guard your spot for you, or be flexible.

My husband and I found our celebrant on the ‘net through Google Ads and met with him a couple of months before the wedding to do the paperwork. He handed us a big folder with different wording for the various bits of the ceremony (we could have also done our own) and we fitted it together like a jigsaw. We didn’t have a rehearsal, so the day before the wedding we simply went to the park where the ceremony was going to be with my parents and chose the spot. My husband and his family went an hour early on the day of the ceremony to mind the spot and meet the celebrant. I’d suggest reading your ceremony a couple of times even if not rehearsing though so you remember when you are meant to say things unprompted.

Clothes

I didn’t actually ever go near a bridal dress shop, because I’m told they’re very high hassle in terms of fending off the bit where they make you try and the most expensive dresses in the shop and do everything they can to convince you that this is the dress you were born to be married in! followed by their enormous lead times in obtaining your dress and their tendency to sell you dresses that need alterations. However, I can’t say first hand how true any of this is and suspect strongly it varies by shop.

Another problem specific to me is that I live in a metropolis and don’t have a car. Bridal shops don’t get their custom from passersby and therefore don’t bother with high rent locations in general, which means they are found away from major shopping districts and train stations. So I would have had to hire a car for every dress shopping expedition. My mother also lives far away and I had no bridesmaids, which means that I would have had to either shop alone or shanghai people. (I took my sister on my one attempt to get a dress in Sydney.)

Anyway, I ended up buying my dress ready-to-wear from a formal dress shop in Orange, where my parents live.

One surprisingly high hassle thing about the bride not wearing white is the effect it has on the female guests. They turned out to be really sensitive to the etiquette that one is not meant to wear a colour that matches the bride’s dress (this is usually couched in a more limited fashion: don’t wear white to weddings). There were lots of tentative phone calls about colours when word got out I wasn’t wearing white. I hadn’t even thought about it. So if you’re not wearing white, put the word out on the street about what colours you are wearing, and also if you don’t care about people wearing that colour, say so (although they may avoid it anyway).

My husband didn’t want to wear a jacket, and so we marked our dress code as Informal, hoping essentially that men wouldn’t feel compelled to wear jackets and be more dressed up than he was. This was also fairly high hassle, because while it actually strictly means men still wear suits, women don’t have to wear ankle length (that is, it’s the next step down from black tie) we actually didn’t mean that, and in any case it was interpreted really widely and some people got upset because they thought that it meant that we weren’t allowing them to wear their new pretty dress because we wanted shorts and T-Shirts (ie it was commonly interpreted to mean ‘completely casual’). Honestly I have no idea what one is meant to do here, because strictly there is actually no formal way to request that men don’t wear jackets; they’re always meant to wear them to weddings. I suppose Party dress might work or Before 5 or Cocktail.

Low hassle receptions

In general, the way to do this is to pick the kind of party you want to have, and then go to someone who does that kind of party as a private function. It’s much lower hassle to get it done all-in-one than it is to hire tables and chairs from one vendor, tablecloths from another, have florists do flowers for the tables, bring in an outside caterer, get the marquee from someone else and so on. Dancing is, I think, something of a pain to organise outside dedicated reception venues because not a lot of places that serve food also have a regular dancefloor.

When looking around, don’t just look for ‘wedding reception venues’, look for ‘private function rooms’ and similar. Most restaurants and cafes will close to do a private function, or at least set aside a room for you, especially during the day and if there’s enough people and they get enough notice.

This adds to your hassle but reduces it for your guests: if you are having photos done between the ceremony and the reception, organise something for the guests to do. Finger food and drinks at the reception venue is one fairly standard option. Get someone to announce the starting time of the reception (ie, the time when you expect to be there yourself).

Another hassle to plan for is dietary requirements, particularly religious diets (kosher, halal), ethical diets (vegetarianism) and health diets (allergies and such). We sorted this out just by ringing friends who we thought might be vegetarian two weeks before and asking the venue for a vegetarian meal. In countries where vegetarianism and other diets are less common though, you should check at the time of booking.

Also, if you’re having young kids, ask about kids’ meals, which are often cheaper and usually more palatable for the kids anyway.

If there are tables for guests to sit at, do a seating plan. This is high hassle for you, but it saves the guests some pain; the most common being that there are two or three people there who only know each other, they’re last into the reception, and they end up stranded at three separate tables. The next most common is that two people who don’t get on end up next to each other. There’s no science to the plan, but the guidelines are:

  • people should be on a table with a few other people they know well enough to have a long conversation with;
  • split up people who fight together or who can’t have a cordial conversation (ie, no frosty silences) if you can, unless they are actually seeing each other in which case their table unfortunately has to suck it up, yuck;
  • don’t split really small groups up (eg your three work buddies), split large groups (like the 15 members of clan X) up around them;
  • people of similar interests go together, failing that, similar ages; and
  • couples go on the same table, although actually traditionally not next to each other (they’re meant to see enough of each other already).

We just had table lists, with no individual seats. This seemed to be fine: major clashes of people were avoided by having them on separate tables, but couples and friends could decide to sit together or not.

We didn’t have a bridal party so this didn’t happen, but it can apparently be rather awful to split the bridal party from their partners who aren’t in the party for the whole reception, at least if the partner doesn’t really know anyone else there and is seated across the room on the maiden aunts table or something. Invite a few of their friends, or arrange for them to sit with their partner, one or the other.

The extras

We really cut back on this stuff. Here’s the stuff that appears in a lot of standard wedding guides that we didn’t have:

  • an engagement party;
  • an engagement ring;
  • save the date mail outs;
  • a store registry;
  • something old, something new, something borrowed or something blue (well, I guess my dress was new…)
  • professionally done makeup (my mother did it);
  • a rehearsal or rehearsal dinner;
  • a bridal party (bridesmaids, groomsmen, maid of honour, best man etc etc);
  • a veil;
  • music during the ceremony;
  • any colour theme (oh, except his tie matched my dress);
  • hired cars;
  • a white dress (it was a green ankle length dress);
  • a tux for the groom (he wore a tie and collared shirt);
  • the bit where the bride hides out before the ceremony;
  • a professional photographer (or videographer, but that’s less common anyway);
  • DJs or musicians (we gave the reception venue a few CDs);
  • a cake; or
  • dancing.

Do have a think about which traditions or invented rituals of your own will add to your wedding, and which would just be more stuff to organise, particularly when a lot of these vendors will want yet another meeting for a taste-test/viewing/listening/posing preview of the day?

Surrounding parties

This is where a bridal party is handy. They are meant to organise pre-parties for you. It helps if you hand over the sub-list of guests you want to ask to them and probably give them an idea of activities.

The single highest hassle thing about the pre-parties is that some of them (buck’s and hen’s nights) can sort of push the boundaries of the couple’s willingness to marry each other, and in fact I suspect some of the people who organise them see it as a point of honour more than anything to break the match off. You can only really sort this out beforehand with each other, if you are having separate parties and it sounds like the ‘traditional elements’ (strippers, sometimes with extra services for the soon-to-be-married) are going to be part of the party. It’s not cool to do something that your partner would normally feel betrayed by and then face him or her with either an immediate and hugely public decision to call off your wedding the day before it happens or having to deal with it after making marriage vows.

Assuming the whole wild oats thing is sorted out, the next crucial hassle reduction step is to have your all-nighters and any hangovers done with a few days to go before the wedding. Being hungover at your wedding is high hassle. The night before you want a good meal and a good sleep.

Other than infidelity or unexpected piercings or injuries at the pre-parties, the other problem is more or less sheer social fatigue on your part, and organising fatigue on the bridal party’s part. Don’t party so hard that all your friends are sick of you by the day of the wedding, otherwise, have some fun. This stuff is where you can really cut loose from the script and do some relaxing casual stuff.

A number of weddings I know of have had a bigger after-party after a sit-down reception. We were too introverted to do this ourselves (six hours of celebration in public is good, twelve hours is mind-bending), but the people we know who’ve had them liked them.

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Thoughts on low hassle wedding planning by Mary Gardiner is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

The linux.conf.au review process

I’ve written already about the type of proposal that is likely to be accepted to linux.conf.au, this is a discussion of how the process worked.

Our process aims to find a good set of talks. Past conferences have asked for written papers too, but we do not believe they are widely read and some authors have simply not sent them in, which is possibly unfair to people who believed the given requirements and wrote their paper. This year we didn’t ask. By not asking for papers, conferences like linux.conf.au are missing one opportunity to actually check that our speakers have had more than a paragraph worth of thoughts concerning their talk. Hence the emphasis on known good technical quality and known speaking ability in the criteria.

I’d like to make a quick comparison here with academic computing conferences. Firstly to clear up a common misconception about academic conferences: people don’t just read their papers out loud; or at least not in computing. I’m told they do in philosophy. It’s meant to be an engaging narrative about a problem and its solution, much like a technical conference talk. (Both types of conferences have speakers that fail at this.) The selection is very different though: for an academic conference you submit an abstract or a full academic paper, usually in the 8–15 pages range, and selection is usually based entirely on the quality of the research as demonstrated in the paper, rather than on your history as an engaging or hugely popular public speaker. And the papers are actually important, in computing they will contain (or ideally contain) enough details to allow people to replicate the research (in traditional experimental science, that stuff goes in journals, in computing journals tend to contain only very serious and really stellar work). People wanting to do serious critiques of the work or to extend it will refer extensively to the paper; the paper matters in the way that code does in Free Software. Reviewers will study the paper in detail: ten conference papers would be a very very high reviewing load for a single conference.

This year all program committee members were asked to review all proposals. We voted on them, literally, on a scale of 1–5, which I personally interpreted as please no through to I will die if we reject this, although other reviewers may have calibrated differently. We did not provide feedback that was intended for the authors. We did not, therefore, do what would be called peer review, which is about extensive constructive criticism of the work suggesting ways to improve it, even if it is being rejected. That’s expensive for reviewers and would require drawing reviewers from a broader range of backgrounds: the kind of expertise required to say this talk is not terribly exciting is not the same as the expertise required to write a letter to the author suggesting technical improvements to their work. I called the linux.conf.au process Am I hack or not? initially, although since our acceptance rate is about 25% this turned out to be unfair to people who were rejected. Many were actually hack.

That acceptance rate does have certain effects when it comes to our criteria. We are not able to take many chances on people without a track record. We do not have the reviewing manpower to make any useful suggestions to people about their work or their talk proposal, although this would be possible with some other processes we could have used. The abstracts length for this conference makes proper peer review impossible (we could offer suggestions about making a better abstract, but not about doing better work as such even if we had the manpower). We can aim to possibly only select good or excellent talks.

I’ll be interested to compare the PyCon process, particularly since they’re pattern nuts and have found a series of patterns around which you can organise your committee meetings. I have to say an occupation hazard of doing these things is that you really want to go to the conference afterwards. I’d kill to go to PyCon now, if it wasn’t that that wouldn’t help me get a ticket to Texas one bit.

In other news, the linux.conf.au programme is available. Here’s talks I’m particularly looking forward to:

  • The Kernel Report (Jonathan Corbet)
  • Fixing suspend for fun and profit (Matthew Garrett)
  • Digital Preservation – The National Archives of Australia, Open Standards and Open Source (Michael Carden) [although unfortunately this is up against Val Henson, who I’d also like to see]
  • The OzDMCA: what it means for FOSS (Kimberlee Weatherall)
  • Tutorial:GIMP Uncovered: Understanding Images and Image Editing (Akkana Peck) [I’ll have to catch either Kimberlee Weatherall or Akkana Peck on video though, another clash]
  • Starting an Open Source business (Paul Fenwick)
  • How to Herd Cats and Influence People (Jono Bacon)
  • Concurrency and Erlang (André Pang)
  • Making Sausage: How the OLPC Machine Was Designed (Jim Gettys)

Andrew has already put his hand up for the cricket match and he doesn’t even have permission to take the leave yet.

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The linux.conf.au review process by Mary Gardiner is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

Getting a talk into linux.conf.au

We had a programming committee meeting for linux.conf.au 2007 on Saturday. Decisions were made. They may be revised based on budget. But the general consensus was that it’s the papers that linux.conf.au rejects that makes linux.conf.au the best. And here’s the more cuddly than Rusty guide to being among the best.

First a note. We had in the order of 250 proposals for 60 talk slots. (The ratio is a bit better for tutorials, about 2 proposals for every slot available.) We reject most of what we get, and we reject a fair number of things we suspect or know would be perfectly fine talks. It’s a competitive conference.

  1. Software talked about or that is core to your talk must be available under an Open Source licence. This is not negotiable, with a tiny bit of wiggle room for people who are waiting for their employer to sign off on an Open Source release. Only a little wiggle room, mind you.
  2. It is getting towards being a requirement that you are a core member of a project, or of the part of it you’re talking about. You need to have written a fair chunk of the code, initiated the documentation project, done the benchmarks, whatever. Sweated the sweat. Tutorials are a little different: for a tutorial, evidence of ability to convey enough knowledge well is generally important, and depending on your intended audience might trump not being a major developer of the tool in question.
  3. Project maturity is not essential, but is desirable. If it hasn’t been merged yet, or you are the only user, it will have to be great to be accepted.
  4. Enormous maturity can be a disadvantage, or at least it is if it leads to the the style of proposal that goes here’s the update on my LCA 2005 talk about [some project]. It’s easier to get accepted if you submit a talk focusing on a particular new feature or development.
  5. Being known as a good enough speaker is a big advantage. Standards here are high, but I feel not crazy. You can be accepted without being an amazing speaker. It is, however, essential to convince the review committee somehow that you have had and can convey 45 minutes worth of thoughts about your subject and that people will want to hear it. Being known as a good speaker from other conferences or events is excellent, and a high quality abstract can be convincing in some cases too.
  6. Insane coolness is another huge advantage. In particular, people who’ve built things they can hold in their hands, put their arms around or have a sword fight with, tend to get their papers accepted. Most proposals do not fall into this category, those that do have a high acceptance rate.
  7. Not submitting a kernel talk helps your chances of acceptance. This one is interesting. The problem is that we get a huge number of very good kernel proposals. linux.conf.au accepts a fair number of kernel talks, but is not a kernel conference and doesn’t intend to become one. So to get a proposal accepted into this stream, you must not only be good, but be very very good.
  8. Not submitting a general commentary on your experiences in the Open Source world also helps your chances of acceptance. Again, we accept some of these, but almost everyone has opinions on how to run an Open Source project, and they submit a variety of them. We need some special reason to believe you have something to say that the audience can’t easily think up for themselves or read about.
  9. Having some relevance to a primarily Australian audience is useful. This is really only meaningful for the above mentioned commentaries, for things like kernels it doesn’t matter, and if it’s hella cool, it also doesn’t matter.

For comprehensive information about submission statistics and a list of all the program committee’s blog entries, see John Ferlito’s entry.

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Getting a talk into linux.conf.au by Mary Gardiner is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

A degree in computing?

This is a re-publication of an essay I originally posted on a now defunct website in September 2004.

I’m obsessed with understanding the minor failures in my own university education, probably unreasonably so considering that I have two undergraduate degrees, good mental health and a debt to the Australian government that will buy them only one new low range car.

Nevertheless, there are a few striking things about a degree in computer science that I’ve learnt through experience, and thankfully sometimes through the experience of others, that I think are worth noting for the record. This essay is a guide for people considering starting a undergraduate (bachelor-level) computer science degree or computer science major. I’m going to lead with the negatives: I think people should think more carefully before starting computing degrees, and degrees in general for that matter. But as I don’t actually regret the degree, I will conclude with some positives.

Why you may not want to do a computer science or computing degree

You aren’t suited to university

By this, I basically mean that you don’t want a degree. Degrees are what universities think their purpose is. Degrees are annoying things to get. In most universities there’s a complex set of rules governing which subjects you have to take in which combinations, which subjects you can’t take, how many subjects you can take, what marks you have to get, and what level of courses you need to do. They almost invariably involve at least one time-serving course which is totally uninteresting to you, and one boring but difficult course which you need to put a lot of work into.

Once you jump all those hurdles they let you wear a silly hat.

Further, universities are geared towards students getting degrees. If you show signs of not being such, like repeatedly failing courses, or simply doing too many low level courses and not enough final year courses, they have a distressing tendency to try and throw you out.

Further, at least in Australia, you can get by without degrees in computing fields. Their official function is to act as a stepping stone into academia, or as a heuristic for employers to demonstrate that you are capable of completing a long, and more than somewhat arbitrary, list of tasks in order to achieve a goal (employers are in the long and arbitrary tasks business too). They also indicate a certain skill set. But they aren’t the only way to show that you have that skill set.

Larger organisations get a bit hung up on them. It can be difficult, for example, to get work visas to certain countries without a four year degree in a relevant field. As businesses get bigger, it tends to get more likely that “degree in relevant discipline” appears in the ‘mandatory requirements’ section of job ads too.

While failing to get a degree you wanted can be miserable, hanging around at university without much intention of getting a degree can be fun, especially in countries that have low tuition fees. My experience of people who do this is that they eventually get sucked into the degree mania and have some regrets, especially once their friends start graduating, but if you really want university without the degree I don’t have much more advice to give.

There’s good things about university too (later!) but if this description is making you grit your teeth and long to flee into a job, or possibly to the Himalayas for a good long hike, follow your dreams there instead.

You don’t like programming

To people who know about the content of most university computing courses, it will seem extremely strange that you want to do computer science at all. The reason is that university computing courses focus on one of two things: in the vast majority of cases, that is programming theory and practise with dashes of software engineering and a smidgen of computing theory (discrete mathematics, in other words); in a small minority of cases they concentrate on computing theory.

In short, if you are certain that you do not like computer programming, you should not do a computer science degree, with a few rare exceptions for people who like the mathematics rather than the programming and want to do a theoretical computing degree. Even in that case, check the program you’re entering thoroughly because almost all of them will have you programming much of the time. You might well be better off in a mathematics major.

If your bent is systems administration or other techie non-programming skills, you will also want to avoid most undergraduate courses, because they teach programming to the exclusion of what you’re interested in. There are a few exceptions to this, and you might find some interesting Masters courses, but be sceptical and enter programs only when you’re sure that you aren’t doing “programming with a dash of systems” when you want systems. It’s likely you could find relevant courses outside the undergraduate system, and it is worth considering skipping the whole thing and learning on the job.

In the, alas, most common case, where you have some idea that you might like to “work with computers” (or often, you would like to manage people who do), have no particular existing skill set above using your computer for email or gaming, but are certain that coding is not your thing, you don’t want to touch a computing degree. In the best case you’ll struggle through a semester or two, realise that it’s all programming and you hate it, and spend another semester or two establishing prerequisites in a different field. In the worst case you’ll push through three or four years wondering when you’re going to learn ‘industry skills’ (meaning management). You aren’t. You’re in a programming course. Definitely skip the whole thing. Do a little research and find a faculty or major that teaches the skills you want or the things you’re interested in.

There are a number of non-programming computing majors, normally called ‘IT’ or something similar (although not always, some ‘IT’ courses are also programming courses). These generally have varying amounts of ‘basic computing’ (using office products), system design, project management, database design, and business skills. Computer science students tend to look down on these courses, but the few people I know who’ve done them say that the management skills they teach can be worth it. The only thing I’d warn about if you’re thinking of one of these courses is checking whether you like programmers themselves. If you find them insufferable or laughable, you’re going to have a hard time managing them and it might not be worth training to do it.

You have no idea if you like programming, because you’ve never done it

I know several people who started university in this category, two of whom graduated from computer science with highest honours. Unlike loathing programming, it’s not a death-knell for your enjoyment of the course. In addition, at least in Australia, all computing degrees assume that you cannot program when you begin them (the University of Sydney claims that, except for a few very experienced students who earn excellent marks easily, the difference between the experienced and inexperienced in terms of marks is negligible after three months).

Nevertheless, before committing three or four years and a fair bit of money to a programming degree, you may want to get a basic idea of what it is you’re going to be doing with your time. There’s a few options: there are a lot of online programming tutorials these days and many free toolkits — a lot of your programming is going to be self-taught anyway, so you could start out that way. You could also take a summer course at a technical or community college. Which one you want to do may depend on your personality: as a beginner I spent a lot of time trying and failing to think of interesting practise projects, so I guess I was a course-type person.

Programming is difficult and frustrating initially, but allowing for that, having a little programming experience will help you decide whether you like it enough to spend years listening to people talk about nothing else.

You love programming and are very experienced

By this I don’t mean that you got high marks in high school computing courses (or at least, not that alone). People who can program to the extent that they get high marks in your average high school, but not a great deal more, will probably find computing degrees really useful: you will meet people more skilled than you; you will find many of the assignments at least somewhat challenging; and while you will probably begin to find the lecture courses dull, they won’t cause you to attempt to pound your lecturer’s head through the wall.

Even in this case, you will find the early stages, which are aimed at the non-programmers allowed into the course, quite frustrating. But it’s quite likely that you will learn a great deal in the later years of the course, from courses and especially from classmates. You might well emerge ready to program professionally. In case you can’t tell, this is the category I entered university in.

But if you’re experienced to the extent that you’ve written working 10 000 line (or much more) projects for fun, have programmed professionally, or have done extensive work with others, you are likely to find at least the first two years so insufferably tedious that you may well be tempted to turn violent. Anyone who is a major code contributor to a medium sized Open Source project almost certainly falls into this category.

In addition, you may not do very well. There’s a couple of reasons for this. First, it’s unlikely that you’re going to be doing programming exclusively. In most computing degrees, your first year will include mathematics courses, and depending on the institution, it will probably also include at least one business, engineering, or science course. Your programming experience will probably not help you pass these other courses — which is not to say that other abilities, such as good mathematics skills, writing skills, or a good memory won’t get you through them — and the mind-numbing simplicity of introductory programming risks convincing you that you can pass them as easily as you will programming.

Or will you? Mostly, yes, with blindingly good marks. But alas, programming courses will often involve just enough theory to trip you up if you aren’t interested in some of the theory, or neglect to flick through the textbook: you’ll code up a storm but be unable to remember precisely how pushdown automata work when it comes to the exam (unless you ever coded one of course!) This is sometimes more the case as the degree goes on.

Some people who are experienced programmers might prefer to do a related degree with new skills (like mechanical or electrical engineering); a theoretical degree with a lot of maths, since they’re less likely to have taught it to themselves already; or a completely new field, if they want an extended break from their programming. Others might skip the degree. Otherwise reconcile yourself to the tedium a bit and try and seek challenge in your fellow students and your teachers, not your courses themselves.

You have no academic interests aside from programming

As above, most university degrees require some semblance of balance in your courses for a few years until they finally let you geek out on an all computing extravaganza. Annoyingly, some of these courses will also stand in your way — in particular, failing maths may stop you proceeding in computing.

If you really cannot stand any of the other subjects that are likely to comprise your program (make sure you investigate what these are) or aren’t going to be able to pass them, you’re going to have a hell of a time getting to the interesting bits of computer science inside the university system.

I did a science degree with maths and computing, and an arts degree with linguistics and philosophy: the first is a fairly typical computing degree. Other common ones are engineering based courses, which will have a lot of maths and physics with the programming; and business based courses, which will have accounting and management, and sometimes a touch of maths, with the programming. Some universities are very flexible and will let you do, say, metaphysics and computing, others stick to traditional patterns. But at least in Australia, computing degrees without non-computing course components are rare.

Why you may, after all this, want to dance to the university tune

I think I was actually a fairly good candidate for undergraduate computer science. I have reasonable mathematical ability, I’m a better writer than the majority of my fellow students (this became relevant during the last year of my degree when I did a research project), and at the time I entered I had some programming ability but very little experience of projects that took more than three hours to complete.

I ended up getting a lot out of my computing degree, and in this section I’ll discuss some of the things you could get out of it.

You will meet other students

I actually think this is the single major reason you should consider undergraduate studies at all. University is an easy way to make friends. You will be exposed to a wide group of people who like you are confined to the campus much of the time. Making friends after university is harder because the range of people you meet daily falls and it’s hard to see a lot of them, especially in cities where you may live two hours drive from your colleagues and friends.

I have a typical geeky high school sob story, although it’s on the mild side because it didn’t involve being assaulted or attempting suicide, it just involved loneliness. I arrived at university more or less convinced that I was terminally unattractive to my peers.

After considerable time (I spent five years at university) I left with quite a large group of friends and acquaintances, an immeasurably improved set of social skills, and a much better self-image.

In computing, in particular, your peers will have a lot to teach you, assuming you find a good group of people. Computing students tend towards the obsessive and will spend a lot of time teaching themselves and each other all about their findings. It’s probably more the rule than the exception that you will learn more programming skills from your peers than from your teachers. (This doesn’t seem to be true in other science disciplines, and is only true in the humanities when your peers are exceptional.)

‘Networking’ deliberately is a bit yucky, but the natural process of meeting people with common interests and hanging out with them will introduce you to people who have a lot to teach you. If you end up getting a job through these people eventually, you’re in good company.

The course discipline can be useful

Computing courses will tend to set relatively fixed assignments that force you to practise programming skills, although some teachers are far better at this than others. At the university I went to, these assignments were also very open-ended, in that you spent about three days getting 80% of the marks and then for every mark after that the time you spent would increase. While this was both good and bad (some students deliberately chose part time studies in order to improve their marks at the cost of an extra year’s study) it did force me to practice.

If you don’t, early on, get sucked into an intense group of hardworking programmers (and talented programmers can be among the world’s best procrastinators) the discipline of the coursework will improve your programming skills. In my case, and I only really did hobbyist programming in the final two years, the early improvement was huge.

You have the chance to study other things

A lot of people hate the elective requirements of some degrees, particularly if essay writing and mathematics don’t come easily to them (you’ll likely need one or the other), but undergraduate studies are one of the very few opportunities you’ll have to learn about a lot of subjects from experts in the field, some of whom will be marvellous teachers. In some cases — mathematics and science particularly — it’s very hard to learn about the field later without course discipline to push you along, in other cases it might just expose you to something you can follow up at leisure.

I gained two major interests from non-computing study at university: language and modern history. One is likely to be part of my career path, the other is filling my bookshelves. I wouldn’t be without them.

You’ll get the piece of paper

In most ways it’s an arbitrary measure of ability to finish a regimented program, but for some career paths you need it, and it might well make you happy to have it. I quite like having mine, I even gamed the system for a fifth major. In hindsight I wouldn’t do a five-year pre-honours program again (and I wouldn’t do high level maths after second year because I wasn’t committed enough to it) but I’m pretty happy about it overall.

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A degree in computing? by Mary Gardiner is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

Planet Free Software

Article originally posted at the IT Kitchen, a now defunct project founded by Shelley Powers.

Free Software developers, who had strong mailing list and IRC based online communities before the advent of weblogging, have nevertheless found their way into it. This post is a summary of how the Free Software world is using blogs for collaboration; largely preferring aggregation of community members’ blogs over setting up single access group blogs, and using them as a community building tool rather than a software development collaboration tool.

One of the big developments was Advogato, which started in late 1999. The creator of Advogato, Raph Levien, appears to have been trying to start up a kind of a semi-formal guild system for Free Software developers, allowing them to rank each other as Master, Journeyer or Apprentice. As a small feature, he added the ability for users to make “diary entries”, the most recent of which were listed at the side of the front page.

While the other features of advogato proved only an intermittant success — the quality of the articles on the front page is widely lamented, and the certification system has been subject to a lot of debate and has not resulted in the development of formal mentoring — the diary feature was a smash hit. Waves of Free Software developers hit advogato in 2000 and 2001 as they started reading their co-developers’ diaries. The buzz even generated a Salon article in mid 2000.

The initial buzz surrounding Advogato occasionally caused users to publicly renounce their former bad opinions of “online journals”: rather than being ‘useless’ things full of stories about children and cats, they were a new space to talk about your code and find out more about your fellow developers. Advogato was known as a friendly place, in contrast sometimes with the development mailing lists themselves.

Eventually the worlds of Advogato and of blogs began to meet. In mid-2002 Levien was discovering the wider blogosphere and started exploring using his Advogato diary as a primary means of communication with other interesting people. By that time RSS feeds of individual entries and of the entire recent diary entries page were probably the single most requested feature: people no longer wanted to drop in on the site to skim through the new entries, they wanted to poll them like they were beginning to do with other websites. (RSS feeds of individuals’ diaries were added in April 2003.)

At around about this time also, some people started to express serious dissatisfaction with the Advogato community as political debates became more common and the community attracted a few diary trolls. Levien added a diary rating feature as requests to be able to keep some users off the recent entries page grew. Others used the Advogato article feature to deplore the decline in the community.

As various blogging tools became more popular around this time, it became increasingly common to see diary entries from an Advogato regular announcing that their diary was moving elsewhere.

As RSS feeds became fairly ubiquitous, the Free Software community started to revert to a more typical blogging community model: you read blogs of people whose names you knew, and you found other people you knew or knew of through sidebars and comments.

However, in mid-2003 Jeff Waugh of the GNOME desktop project decided to create his own version of the Advogato front page, a HTML page with recent blog entries from GNOME developers all over the web (including several on Advogato). He used the Spycroll aggregator software to pull in RSS feeds, and he made them all available on a single webpage, with the cute addition of disembodied "hackergotchi heads" personalising each name.

He was stunned with the popularity of the page he linked from his own sidebar as Planet GNOME and started to field all kinds of questions about it: the three most popular were “why isn’t this at planet.gnome.org?”, “why aren’t I on it?” and (to his surprise) “why isn’t there an RSS feed?”

The Planet idea took off rapidly over the next six months. Scott James Remnant was the next off the mark, creating Planet Debian. Remnant and Waugh forked spycroll soon after that to create the Planet aggregator script. In fairly short order, a lot of large Free Software projects needed to have their own planet: the Planet homepage now lists nearly 40 separate planets.

The planets have evolved a loose set of customs based on the ones in place at Planets GNOME and Debian. They do not require that syndicated blogs talk about Free Software or software development all the time: they encourage getting to know your fellow developers as people as well as techs. (John Fleck, a GNOME documentor who is not only a frequent poster, but is a frequent non-tech blogger, has been a kind of an acid test for this editorial policy: see the John Malkovich post and a later complaint.) The larger planets are starting to have to deal with line-ball calls about who should and should not be on the planet pages: Waugh apparently finds requiring that contributors use a real photo of themself somewhat helpful on Planet GNOME.

The planets have proved to be amazingly good at spreading blogging among Free Software communities. The two planets I host, LinuxChix Live and Planet Twisted are close to being my most popular hosted sites. They also fill an important gap in the usual Free Software communication tools: they don’t need to be as on-topic as mailing list posts, and they are more expressive than IRC. They’ve also had some influence on corporate group blogging: Richard Giles reported that the creation of Planet Sun was part of the explorations that led Sun employees to promote blogging internally, eventually leading to the creation of blogs.sun.com.

See also

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Planet Free Software by Mary Gardiner is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

Questions your conference website should answer

This article was originally posted at advogato.org in 2004.

Introduction

This article gives a list of questions that your conference website should answer, if it is to attract speakers and participants who are unfamiliar with the jargon. Most conference websites do a good job of answering some of these questions, but many go unanswered.

This article is inspired by discussion on the LinuxChix mailing lists over the past couple of years about speaking at conferences; specifically, discussion about how to encourage people to make their first ever talk proposal.

One problem with almost all Free Software conference web sites is that they aren’t very helpful to a novice speaker. One participant in the discussion recollected reading that she would need to send in a "paper" if her talk was accepted and asked what would be required of the paper. Was it an article? How long did it have to be? How did it have to relate to her talk? The only response from the organisers pointed her to mbp‘s (excellent) article on getting a conference abstract accepted, which, alas, helped her not one bit in finding out what it meant to send a paper if her abstract was accepted.

Many Free Software conference websites assume a lot of background knowledge of the conference process. This assumption is a strange one: many Free Software developers work outside academia, and if they were ever inside it, never got to the stage where conferences become part of academic life. And the Free Software conference procedures are subtly different from academic conferences in ways that aren’t obvious, mostly because Free Software conferences are generally more informal events than academic conferences. People used to the peer review process may not be sending in abstracts because they’re used to a very high workload of writing and revision for each conference.

In other words, your conference might a first conference for a lot of people — some of whom are qualified to speak. You need to write parts of your website assuming that potential speakers and attendees know very little of the conference process. This is doubly important since conferences vary in lots of respects: do they pay for travel? are they for users or developers?

Simple general questions about your conference.

Almost all conferences websites answer these simple questions already.

  1. Where is your conference?

  2. When is your conference?

    Give times as well as dates when answering this question, so that people know to book an extra night’s accommodation if your last event finishes at 8pm.

  3. What is the target audience of your conference?

    Are you focused on a particular project, are you a general Free Software conference or a tech conference accepting talks related to Free Software?

  4. Would a user of Free Software benefit from your conference?

  5. Would a developer of Free Software benefit from your conference?

  6. Would a Free Software advocate or someone involved in community projects (like LUGs) benefit from your conference?

Questions everyone wants answered

Many conference websites are doing a good job of answering these questions somewhere, but not all are.

  1. How can I get to your conference?

    It’s worth listing the airport, train station, and bus station nearest your venue and giving some idea of the carriers that travel to that station. If you’re not in a city with a major international airport or transit hub, it’s also worth suggesting a hub for people to travel to, and then a route to your location.

  2. Any visa tricks or traps in your part of the world?

  3. Will international attendees need a visa? Will it need to be a tourist or business visa? Will they need a letter from the conference organisers to get their visa (this is not unheard of)? Will they need to have anything to present to border officials?

    Something conference organisers in the US in particular are apparently still neglecting is this fact: if you are not a citizen of a country whose citizens the US will admit without a visa, it can take months to get a visa to enter the US and it requires considerable time spent gathering documents and visiting consular officials. Accepting speakers closer to the conference will result in your international speakers being unable to come. If your conference is elsewhere in the Americas, it is important to warn attendees that even transiting through a US airport now requires a visa.

    Similarly, visitors to Australia are frequently shocked to find out that the Australian government has no visa waiver program, except for citizens of New Zealand. Nor are the US and Australia the only two countries that trip visitors up with their entry regime.

    In most cases, being denied entry to a country will require your attendees to immediately return home at their own expense. If your conference website addresses the basics of getting permission to visit your country and points to the relevant authorities, you can avoid a lot of pain for them.

  4. What sort of accommodation is available nearby and what is the approximate cost?

    Some conferences are doing excellent work organising conference accommodation. Even if your conference isn’t doing this, you could provide pointers to a few types of accommodation nearby: budget hostels and mid range hotels will be the most useful for your attendees.

  5. What kind of social events are you holding during the conference?

  6. If I bring partners, family members or friends who won’t be attending the conference, is there anything they can do or see while I’m at the conference?

    Free Software conferences tend to be slightly bigger events in the lives of their participants than academics ones. Frequently, attendees combine a big conference with a holiday, and might want to bring their family. Kudos to linux.conf.au 2004 for providing activities for partners and family members who didn’t attend the conference.

    A few more questions: Is the conference providing any kind of childcare? (I’ve never heard of that happening.) Is there short term childcare in the area? Can family members too old for daycare attend the conference social events?

  7. What’s there to do in your area?

    A not insignificant number of attendees will want to combine your conference with a holiday, or at least with some sight-seeing, or a visit to the pub. Give them some information about your area. Link to tourist web sites and nightlife guides.

    Something I’ve very rarely seen done which would be extremely useful is a list of restaurants that are likely to be able to serve large groups of people at short notice late in the evening. Everyone who’s been at a few conferences knows the experience of trying to take fifteen people out to dinner in a strange city.

Questions attendees want answered

There’s going to be even more neophytes amongst your potential attendees than there are among your potential speakers. Try and put yourself in the position of your greenest attendee: has an interest, heard your conference would give him or her an opportunity to meet some hackers working on interesting stuff, but has never ever been to a conference. Aim your attendees section at them: a little extra info won’t hurt anyone else.

  1. What kind of talks can I expect to see? What will their topics be? How long will they be?

    It’s a good idea to get your program up as early as possible. If nothing else, attendees have the same or even more difficulties organising transport, accommodation and visas as speakers do, so you should make it possible for them to decide whether or not to attend as early as you can.

  2. How much will your conference cost for attendees?

  3. Can I get any kind of discount for being a student, unemployed, young, old etc?

  4. Can I volunteer to help out in return for cheap or free admission?

  5. Are there any sources of funding for attendees?

Questions potential speakers want answered

Now to the problem of neophyte speakers. For this section, imagine someone who has some experience speaking to groups, but nothing of abstracts, or proceedings or anything like that. There’s no reason this person can’t speak at your conference, so don’t make it hard for them to submit a talk proposal. In particular, don’t make your talk proposals or the talk process sound any more mysterious or difficult than they actually are.

  1. What do all these words mean?

    Explaining what is expected from an ‘abstract’, a ‘paper’, a ‘presentation’, a ‘tutorial’, a ‘workshop’ and a ‘BOF’ are is crucial if you use those terms. Not only do some people not know them, but they vary reasonably widely by conference anyway.

    Providing links to abstracts and papers from previous years is invaluable if any are available. You might wish to draft a sample abstract or paper if you cannot link to previous papers. If not, you should certainly describe requirements in detail. Place the links prominently with the call for papers.

  2. What kind of talks or presentations can I give? How can I tell which one I should give?

    The answer to this question should provide detail. For each type of talk, specify the length, the size of the audience, and the expected depth of the content if you can. Is it going to be a lecture, or interactive discussion, or something in between? Will most speakers be using slides, giving demonstrations, or running a Q&A session? Are speakers going to be showing the code? What kind of knowledge level can the presenter expect from the attendees? Are the attendees going to be peers or are they going to be people new to the topic? Are there any different "tracks" devoted to different topics?

  3. How do I get a talk/paper accepted?

    When answering this question, be detailed. Provide approximate word lengths for abstracts (or papers if you require full papers at this stage). Specify what kind of information needs to go in the proposal. And then tell people about the process: when do they submit? how (roughly) is their abstract going to be judged? when will they hear back from you?

    Ideally, you would give examples of a few accepted abstracts here, with a short discussion from the selection panel of what made those abstracts appealing to them.

  4. If my talk is accepted, will I still need to pay the admission fee for attendees?

    Norms on this vary: conferences where most attendees are also speaking will often not waive the admission fee for anyone. Be very clear about which way you’re going with this.

  5. If my talk is accepted, will you cover travel and/or accommodation expenses? Will you cover international travel?

    Be very clear about the limits of what you can cover. It’s very disappointing to have a talk accepted and then find out that the organisers can only pay for local attendees, but not for international flights.

  6. If my talk is accepted, will I receive any payment above expenses?

    I’ve never heard of a Free Software conference doing this, but as there are other conferences which may do so, and some of your speakers might come from that kind of world, best to disappoint them early.

  7. What do I need to do once my talk is accepted?

    If you’re asking speakers to provide papers, describe whether you need slides, recordings, or written articles from accepted speakers, together with any administrative extras like due dates for the final paper. Describe any editing processes that will take place.

    Your answer to this question should be detailed. It should explain what you require from a full paper (if you require one) including length and format. How should the paper relate to the talk? How formal should the paper be? If it doesn’t matter, say so. If its optional, say so. If all that is required is a talk, say so. All this talk of ‘papers’ is scaring people. To many first time speakers, especially ones with a passing acquaintance with the academy, a "paper" sounds like something bristling with citations and withstanding the full force or peer review. If what you’re actually doing is getting people to send you their slides tell your speakers this.

    On the other hand, if you are a fairly formal conference hoping to attract Free Software developers outside the academy, you will probably want to link extensively to style guides and citation guides for your potential speakers to use. You will need to assume that they are not familiar with the peer review process also (and it varies enough within academia anyway), so give a detailed guide to it.

Conclusion

If you’ve tried to answer these questions as you went along, you probably answered "well, it depends… small conferences can’t pay travel… Free Software conferences don’t focus on citation so much…"

This is precisely the reason your conference website and publicity needs to answer simple questions like "what do you mean ‘paper’ anyway?" The answer varies. Some potential speakers will submit anyway, and assume they’ll hear from you if they don’t do something. Judging from the discussion that inspired this article, others will not.

Further reading

This article formed one part the basis of the OSDC FAQ, which has other questions that conference websites might want to answer.

Credits

Thanks to Jenn Vesperman, Telsa Gwynne and Terri Oda for input into this article.

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Questions your conference website should answer by Mary Gardiner is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.