One of the most important lessons this year for me has been persistence.
Previously, I wrote that I can explain the same thing 15 different ways. Sometimes number 16 is the one that finally lands. This is true when explaining an accessibility concept to others as well as trying to understand something myself.
I've explained the need for alt text more times than I can count. I've used the radio analogy. The restaurant menu comparison. The "imagine you're on a slow connection" pitch. I've gone technical with screen readers and emotional with real user stories.
But then there's that moment when I try something new. Maybe I'm tired and my filter's gone. Maybe I just phrase it differently because I'm talking to someone from marketing instead of engineering. And suddenly, it clicks.
Oh, so it's like SEO?
Sure. Whatever works.
The thing is, I never know which explanation will be the one that lands.
This is why I write.
I want to understand what goes on in my head so that I can explain it to others in a way that lands for them.
I went back and queried everything I've written so far. This would be email 658 since I started. I've written close to 200.000 words. That's an average of about 300 words a day that you can read in two minutes.
200.000 words is also roughly the length of two novels.
Except I haven't been telling two stories. I've been telling the same story 658 different ways. Each time hoping that this version, this angle, this example might be the one that makes someone think "oh, now I get it."
Some emails were about accessibility debt. Some were about my frustration with bullshit meetings. Some where about accessibility metrics. Some were just me working through why I care so much about this work. But they're all trying to do the same thing. Find the explanation that lands.
Because if I can figure out what finally made something click for me, maybe I can help it click for you too.
Some of my writing sucked. I know it. And you know it. I read your feedback and I thank you for it. But some clicked in a major way. Both for me and for some of you. And you've told me that too.
Sometimes I'm teaching you accessibility. Sometimes I'm just learning how someone else thinks.
And that's more than I could ask for.