A few weeks ago, Tom launched his new wiki for collecting best practice info surrounding ecommerce.
It’s a good project with huge potential. Tom’s stuff is generally pretty good – so it’s no suprise that the resource is already worthy of a read by anybody that runs a transactional website.
What I found interesting about this new venture, was my reaction to it. (I do spend much time analysing my own behaviour). My scary thought process went someting like this:
- Cool, this will help alot of people.
- oh, no, Tom’s really bright, he’s going to tell everybody how to make ecommerce work and do us all out of a living.
- Get a grip, there’s always too much for people to take in and it’s how you implement knowledge from experience that matters, not just the fact that you know something, so maybe our jobs are safe for now.
- This is cool, I’ve got plenty to add, lets get started.
- Oh… where should I place my first nugget of knowledge for all to share? None of the categories really suit my first gem.
And there it was, in a nut shell, something I’ve never considered. Whilst I’m a huge advocate of wikis I was stumped at the thought of adding content into a wiki I didn’t own/rule/dictate.
I’ve always used my own wikis. I’ve always had to evangelise about wiki use, teach people to post, grow the structure, etc. This was the first time I’ve had to take something from my head and then think about where it would go in somebody else’s wiki. Wiki content is more than a comment against a blog, this is new content in somebody elses property. Will the owner agree with where I’ve placed it?
This is something very important for all wiki owners to consider.
At some point in the not too distant future I’ll contribute. It’s my duty as a citizen in Tomland. I just need to work out the bits I’m allowed to share, without upsetting the customers, and then roll my sleeves up and contribute.