Year is 2013. I learn about a new, alpha-quality project called “GNOME Calendar.” Intriguing.
I like calendars.
“Cool, I’ll track that,” said my younger self. Heavy development was happening at the ui-rework branch. Every day, a few new commits. Pull, build, test. Except one day, no new commits. Nor the next day. Or week. Or month. Or year. I’m disappointed. Didn’t want that project to die. You know…
I like calendars.
“Nope. Not gonna happen,” also said my younger self. Clone, build, fix bugs, send patches. Maintainer’s interest in the project is renewed. We get a new icon, things get serious. We go to a new IRC room (!) and make the first public release of GNOME Calendar.
One year passes, it is now 2015. After contributing for more than a year, Erick made …
Year is 2013. I learn about a new, alpha-quality project called “GNOME Calendar.” Intriguing.
I like calendars.
“Cool, I’ll track that,” said my younger self. Heavy development was happening at the ui-rework branch. Every day, a few new commits. Pull, build, test. Except one day, no new commits. Nor the next day. Or week. Or month. Or year. I’m disappointed. Didn’t want that project to die. You know…
I like calendars.
“Nope. Not gonna happen,” also said my younger self. Clone, build, fix bugs, send patches. Maintainer’s interest in the project is renewed. We get a new icon, things get serious. We go to a new IRC room (!) and make the first public release of GNOME Calendar.
One year passes, it is now 2015. After contributing for more than a year, Erick made me the de facto GNOME Calendar maintainer ¹. A mix of positive emotions flows: proud of the achievement; excitement for being able to carry on with my ideas for the future of the application; fear, for the weight of the responsibility.
But heck, I am a free software maintainer now.
That was 4 years ago. Time passes, things happen, experience is built. Experience that differs from what I originally expected.
Being a free software maintainer is a funny place to find yourself in. Good things came from it. Bad things too. Also terrible. And weird.
Naturally, there is a strong sense of achievement when you, well, achieve maintainership of a project. Usually, getting there requires a large number of interactions during a long period of time. It means you are trusted. It means you are trustworthy. It means you are skilled enough.
It also usually means stronger community bonds. Getting to know excellent people, that know a lot and are willing to share and mentor and help, is a life-changing experience. There is a huge human value in being surrounded by great people.
For those of us who enjoy coding, hooray! Full plate. Planning releases, coding and doing reviews can be fun too. You will fix problems, find solutions, think and design your code. There is a plethora of problems to fix in this plane of existence, and you have the chance to independently fix a few of them by yourself.
And people. There are good people in this planet. You eventually will receive a thank you email, or you will be paid a coffee. One way or another, people find their way to you.
People really do find their way to you.
See, sometimes the software you maintain, well, it crashes. It may lose someone’s data. Someone may trigger a unique condition inside the code that you never managed to do. These people may get angry, sad, and frustrated ².
And they will find their way to you.
You will be demanded to fix your software. You will be shouted. Sometimes, the line may be crossed, and you will be abused. “How dare you not (use your free time to) fix this ultra high priority bug that is affecting me?” or “This is an absolutely basic feature! How is it not implemented yet (by you on your free time)?!” or even “You made me move to Software Y, and you need to win me back” are going to be realities you will have to face.
You may get emotional about your code. You may feel ashamed of what you did, and do. After all, your code has bugs, there are numerous issues opened at your bug tracker, and people are complaining non-stop. (Oh and, naturally, there will be someone who will try their best to put you down with that.)
At one point, you will look at your issue backlog and feel a subtle despair when realise you won’t ever be able to fix all the bugs.
If you are open to review other people’s contributions, there is a high change you will find challengers disguised as contributors. And your code review will be treated as an intellectual battle between good and evil. And you will need to explain and clarify over and over, and deal with circular logic, and pretty much any tool people might use to win battles instead of improving their code. And that is incredibly tiresome.
You will be told that you need to develop a thick skin. To ignore that, let it go, think positive and don’t pay attention to all the shit that is being thrown at you and why are you so goddamn negative you’re a maintainer for christ sake.
You may not feel the joy of working on what you work anymore. You may want to move on. You may also not do that due to the sense of responsibility that you have to your code, your community, and the people who use your software.
Unfortunately, being a free software maintainer may have a high price to your psychological and emotional health.
Four years ago, I certainly did not know that.
¹ – And by “maintainer”, I am talking about being an upstream code maintainer, not package maintainer. ² – Rightfully so. Nobody wants to lose their stuff, or have their workflow broken.