I don’t often respond to comments even though i actually really appreciate them. I have to admit that i’m still overwhelmed that so many folks read this. How does my failure to respond affect whether or not you comment and what you do say when you comment?
Strange, I never actually commented here, but your question made me want to comment. It’s usually then that I comment on various blogs: when I feel the need to say something (and actually have the time to act on that need). Knowing a response will follow might encourage, but usually doesn’t. I comment when I feel I have to say something that might interest you or other readers, when I have something to add or a correction to make.
On my LJ friendslist otoh, I want replies. And that’s because I use LJ as (surprise!) a social networking tool, while the other blogs I read are more to satisfy my curiosity and my thirst for knowledge. I did use information I got over here to make an entry about something on my LJ several times…
I usually comment (on blogs in general) only when I have some info to add relating to the post (additional factoid, link, contrasting evidence, etc.). I don’t necessarily expect a response from either the author or other readers.
If I have a direct question that didn’t get answered in the comments, I would probably just follow up with an email.
this is just my thoughts on this subject
a comment on a blog should be given without condition of a response. for the simple reson that it is a great big world and there are a lot of people out there. the sheer number of respondents to a public blog could easily be quite overwhelming to read let alone respond. additionally, simply because a blogger shares thoughts, insights, opinions, and parts of their lives does not neccessarily mean that they have to respond to everything someone says. afterall, this a blog is not far removed froma public address you would not expect a speaker to respond to every single person in that audience.
sure their are some people that have this ability, but most people have other things that occupy their time. but the simple fact of the matter is that you do not write this blog for any one individual, this like any blog, belongs to the author. you choose to share
as a reader, thanks. you provide me with hours of distraction from the tedium of editing video. something to read once and dwell upon and read about when time permits
in general the comments i offer are complimentary, if you don’t have anything nice to say why bother, you can always find something else. sometimes constructive criticism but only if i have a familiarity with the subject being criticized.
I, too, rarely comment — and often don’t respond to comments on my own blog. Generally I feel the comments stand fine on their own, and I parcel out my energy carefully, having little of it.
I do often check back (when I remember) when I’ve left a comment on another blog, but it’s to follow the conversation, not to see if I’ve been responded to.
I’m hurt by it… it keeps me up at night. I wonder why you don’t respond and what I have to do to get your attention. 🙂 Just kidding! Your question assumes the comments are just for you. They’re partly for you, but partly to just keep the discussion going, which you might choose to be a part of or not. They become part of the content and so while you might not comment, another commenter might or at least it might give them food for thought. Its not like an e-mail that is a direct query to you specifically… it just happens to be on your page, but it doesn’t have to be just for you.
blah blah blah blah blah
Well, it probably means that I’m more likely to leave a comment that will catch your (or your readers’) attention, than to assume we’re engaged in a symmetric communication.
But I do occasionaly just leave “stuff for danah to find” … whether or not you find it soon, later or never is irrelevant (so I wouldn’t say something here that’s important without knowing you’d look at it… like now (although this may not be important)).
I’m a dork… your readers are dorks, danah.
Here’s a question for you, danah: when do you decide to turn comments off on a post?
I haven’t seen many blogs where the blogger actually responds to visitors’ comments. I guess I just assumed that it’s traditional not to respond. It seems appropriate to the format. If I wanted a response, I guess I’d send you an email! 🙂
Joe – i turn comments off when i really don’t want feedback on something but i want to let folks know. This is particularly true if the culturally appropriate response would be to have a pity party. I’m not looking for a pity party, but i’m looking to communicate my state. Thus, i turn it off because i don’t want folks to feel compelled to respond and i don’t want to deal with the responses that they may have that.
just postulating, but maybe one reason why people get upset when they post a comment is because they perceive this site as a personal page with you as a center. if i, as a friend/colleague/observer, send you a comment (i specifically chose those words) it feels like i’m sending you a message, and thusly, would wonder when you get back to me.
this blog is obviously different than a generic message board, which some community or corporation owns, and where i respond to posts which are often displayed as posts — not individual pieces of feedback to the author.
but you’re also dealing with a savvy audience. my guess is that for less familiar readers, this misunderstanding happens more frequently. for those people, there are no traditions or right/wrong expectation just yet.
just an idea.
Oh – and i turn comments off for entries that are getting heavily spammed
well, i used to comment a lot, until i was scolded by Danah, so i stopped posting. I used to enjoy posting here, but now i lurk and learn; i guess my comments where misunderstood, or not appreciated.
Never thought I was disrespectful: just inquisitive.
No comment.
If I think I said something particularly brilliant, I tend to want to recieve an acknowl-ego-ment of said brilliance.
But as a previous commenter mentioned, blogs is different…. LJ has eaten my brain in the idea of using it for networking and the vast amount of ego stroking that automatically happens when you are connected/in the know.
In a way – and this *isn’t* meant unpleasantly – because you get so many comments, the later I were down the comment chain, the more likely I’d be to comment on others’ comments as opposed to just your post.
In general, though, too little comment back (to anyone’s comments) and I’d feel the blog owner isn’t around, so why are we (commenters) here. And probably stop.
Too much comment back on the part of the blog owner, though, might have it’s drawbacks too. (e.g. coming across as defensive or a heavyhanded facilitator)
You can’t win, but you’re coming close 🙂
I think my decision on whether or not to comment is generally not affected much by the likelihood of a response from the blogger. What that does affect is the tone of my comment, to make it slightly more conversational/informal. I otherwise tend to write comments much like mini-blog-posts, but I’m probably unusual in that respect.
And yet another silent lurker now comments for the first time…
For me, the likelihood of getting a response back doesn’t have much influence on my decision to comment. More relevant, for me, is the question of whether or not I already have some social connection to the blogger. If the blogger is someone with whom I’ve already interacted–in a discussion on another blog, in real life, on a BBS somewhere, etc.–then I’m more likely to comment. I’m also more likely to comment if we have mutual contacts, even if the two of us have ourselves never before communicated.
If the blogger and I have never before “met” at all, though, and if we have no mutual contacts, then I perceive us more as “strangers” and so am far less likely to comment. I think that this is because on some level I fear that to do so might be interpreted as the social equivalent of gate-crashing, or perhaps just of introducing yourself out of the blue to a perfect stranger on the street. It is fear of social presumption, rather than desire for feedback, that usually informs my decision whether to comment or not.
Hi Danah
I don’t know if I understand your right but here it goes. You say I like to dress up when going to a party. I like to hang out at the bar, screaming out loud hoping for a silent response. But I don’t want to participate in the conversation. Now and then I go to the dance floor. Having fun.
I like your writing and I’m a frequent visitor so don’t understand me wrong. But the room you have for igniting conversation is as I understand it not for your own sake, but for the rest us.
Just like the comment tread to this post.
What about the liminality you just described yesterday?
Best Regards
Hans Henrik
Also, another issue which I didn’t mention in my post is regarding theoretical groundings of information science(s)/studies. Here as well, there are theories regarding separate research focuses (information retrieval, information seeking, information behaviors, etc…). However, these sound like theoretical frameworks for various sub-disciplines of information studies rather than Information Science (singular). What is that ‘thing’ that ties all the information sciences (plural) together, besides for the fact that they all claim to be dealing with the ‘thing’ called ‘information’ – which is not necessarily defined the same across the various concentrations and research areas within information science/studies.
I’m hurt by it… it keeps me up at night. I wonder why you don’t respond and what I have to do to get your attention. 🙂 Just kidding! Your question assumes the comments are just for you. They’re partly for you, but partly to just keep the discussion going, which you might choose to be a part of or not.
If the blogger and I have never before “met” at all, though, and if we have no mutual contacts, then I perceive us more as “strangers” and so am far less likely to comment. I think that this is because on some level I fear that to do so might be interpreted as the social equivalent of gate-crashing, or perhaps just of introducing yourself out of the blue to a perfect stranger on the street. It is fear of social presumption, rather than desire for feedback, that usually informs my decision whether to comment or not.