For starters, people seem to actually care about saving the giant panda. Something about pandas being cute and fuzzy. Damn "aw" factor. At least journalists have the good sense to breed in captivity.
TIME published an excellent article recently titled "How to Save Your Newspaper." I feel a bit dumb not having realized the facts included before, but when you work one aspect of the industry for so long you get blinded to the whole. Through bar-or-brewery chats with fellow journos the past few months, I've struggled for an explanation on why this is happening and what can be done. According to Walter Isaacson, the answer is simple: charge for online content.
There is, of course, more to it than that. But the point made that print journalism has become too dependent on the advertising leg of its revenue stool is undeniably valid. It's the bamboo to our panda. Readership is up. Just ask any of the kids on campus or any recent graduate. We younglings are tapped into a steady stream of online news and information, and we actually seem to care (I know, right!?). So why do we find the industry floundering? Because net advertising isn't nearly as lucrative as print advertising. Remember those Target or Sears fliers in the Sunday issue Mom always breezed through for deals? Now think of those banner ads on Web sites. Not so effective, I think.
Isaacson's solution, minus the subtleties, is to charge for online news service the same way newspapers and mags have always charged for print material. After all, what's the difference? Who says info on the net has to be free? It's an idiotic model that we seem to be stuck in, much like a rut. We need to bust that rut. Traditional subscription services limit the potential for impulse access, so Isaacson suggests a pay-per-use model. Not a bad plan. Sort of an iTunes for news. Perhaps Lee or Gannett or McClatchy could develop a company-wide debit system. So many dollars with the click of one button buys you a day's access to any of the company's online publications.
Some of the independents have already taken Isaacson's suggestion to heart, months before he wrote the damn article. Exhibit A: the Choteau Acantha, a small-town independent weekly I worked for two consecutive summers. Melody Martinsen (editor) and her husband Jeff (business manager) felt the urge to revamp the Acantha's Web site last year. The site was bare-bones when I worked there, the week's stories and a few photos. Now, Web users can view the paper as-printed for a modest fee. Granted the process is pretty simple; Mel and Jeff post the pdfs for the week's paper and allow paying viewers to download. But they've realized something the Big Wigs haven't yet: the revenue stool has another promising leg, that of consumer compensation.
In this way, journalism can finally steer away from those years of dependence on advertising. There's a strong sense at several publications I could name that content is sometimes written more in the interest of advertisers than readers. Tsk, tsk. Lesson number one is write for your audience. If we journalists aren't tackling the stories that matter to readers, what are we beating the shit out of our livers for? "I'm a journalist" isn't the most promising pickup line. If we lean more on the folk we're writing for, perhaps we can kick this pesky bamboo addiction.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Friday, February ###
A few thoughts/observations after my daily browsing of news sites and listservs:
I find it ridiculous that so many Americans have abandoned the idea of foreign trade as a source of economic growth. Chris Cillizza's latest segment of The Fix, a Washington Post politics blog, quotes a Gallup poll on World Affairs: "47 percent of those surveyed said they saw foreign trade as 'a threat to the economy from foreign imports'" Really? Almost half of those surveyed felt the import/export aspect of international business was a BAD thing? No wonder President Obama seems to be bouncing back and forth on the issues of NAFTA (the central topic of Cillizza's post). Obama touched down in Ottawa yesterday for a tete-a-tete with Prime Minister Harper. In one of his frequent moments of brilliance, Obama has been using a potential pull-out of NAFTA as leverage in bringing labor and environmental concerns fully under the agreement umbrella. The idea of the U.S. completely deep-sixing its involvement with NAFTA is as unbelievable as those apes at Citigroup trying to spend $50 million on a new jet while receiving bail-out money. Foreign trade may make us dependent on foreign economies, but guess what? We're already there. Putting the brakes on now won't bring the economy back, and it'll only hurt international relations.
Side note: "President Obama's trip to Ottawa, Canada" is "his first time outside the country since being sworn in on Jan. 20." Really, Cillizza? Since when has Canada counted as a foreign country?
Equally appalling is the latest depth of Sarah Palin's far-right Tom Foolery. The latest Palin biography, "Trailblazer," includes a bit from former Palin campaign manager Laura Chase on the Governor's past attempt to ban books in school libraries. A similar right-wing bimbo, Cindy Hochstettler, led a book-banning campaign in the Bismarck Public School District when I was a kid. My folks, bookstore owners at the time, fought tooth-and-claw to keep classics like "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" where they were: on the shelves. Book-banning is only one bonfire shy of a wonderful NAZI tradition established by everyone's favorite mass-murderer, Adolf Hitler. Can anyone say Bill of Rights infringement? Chase apparently encouraged Palin to read one of the under-fire books, a gay-friendly children's book called "Daddy's Roommate." Palin's reaction was similar to a six year old presented with a plate of steamed brussels sprouts. I imagined Tina Fey doing an impression of the Mr. Yuck sticker.
Incensed, I've developed a new nickname for Mrs. Palin: GILTBWAGH (Governor I'd Like To Beat With A Garden Hose). I'm thinking of having bumper stickers made up in anticipation of the 2012 election.
Endnote: I'm offended by the recent insinuation that I'm a heavily closeted Republican, even if it was leveled by a loving uncle. When it comes to taking sides, I'm with Will Rogers who said "Politics is applesauce."
I find it ridiculous that so many Americans have abandoned the idea of foreign trade as a source of economic growth. Chris Cillizza's latest segment of The Fix, a Washington Post politics blog, quotes a Gallup poll on World Affairs: "47 percent of those surveyed said they saw foreign trade as 'a threat to the economy from foreign imports'" Really? Almost half of those surveyed felt the import/export aspect of international business was a BAD thing? No wonder President Obama seems to be bouncing back and forth on the issues of NAFTA (the central topic of Cillizza's post). Obama touched down in Ottawa yesterday for a tete-a-tete with Prime Minister Harper. In one of his frequent moments of brilliance, Obama has been using a potential pull-out of NAFTA as leverage in bringing labor and environmental concerns fully under the agreement umbrella. The idea of the U.S. completely deep-sixing its involvement with NAFTA is as unbelievable as those apes at Citigroup trying to spend $50 million on a new jet while receiving bail-out money. Foreign trade may make us dependent on foreign economies, but guess what? We're already there. Putting the brakes on now won't bring the economy back, and it'll only hurt international relations.
Side note: "President Obama's trip to Ottawa, Canada" is "his first time outside the country since being sworn in on Jan. 20." Really, Cillizza? Since when has Canada counted as a foreign country?
Equally appalling is the latest depth of Sarah Palin's far-right Tom Foolery. The latest Palin biography, "Trailblazer," includes a bit from former Palin campaign manager Laura Chase on the Governor's past attempt to ban books in school libraries. A similar right-wing bimbo, Cindy Hochstettler, led a book-banning campaign in the Bismarck Public School District when I was a kid. My folks, bookstore owners at the time, fought tooth-and-claw to keep classics like "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" where they were: on the shelves. Book-banning is only one bonfire shy of a wonderful NAZI tradition established by everyone's favorite mass-murderer, Adolf Hitler. Can anyone say Bill of Rights infringement? Chase apparently encouraged Palin to read one of the under-fire books, a gay-friendly children's book called "Daddy's Roommate." Palin's reaction was similar to a six year old presented with a plate of steamed brussels sprouts. I imagined Tina Fey doing an impression of the Mr. Yuck sticker.
Incensed, I've developed a new nickname for Mrs. Palin: GILTBWAGH (Governor I'd Like To Beat With A Garden Hose). I'm thinking of having bumper stickers made up in anticipation of the 2012 election.
Endnote: I'm offended by the recent insinuation that I'm a heavily closeted Republican, even if it was leveled by a loving uncle. When it comes to taking sides, I'm with Will Rogers who said "Politics is applesauce."
Friday, February 13, 2009
Get your Global Warming off me you damn dirty Gore-illa
Global Warming is a crock. I'm not talking about greenhouse gas emissions or depletion of the ozone layer or any of the now-irrefutable scientific crap going on in our giant spheric ecosystem. We as a race have really messed up the environment, in the years since that gloriously self-dooming Industrial Revolution (or, as I call it, Fuckfest 1837). As a tumor on the globe, we've gone from benign to malignant in under 200 years. Impressive, no?
No, I'm talking about that good ol' grassroots, haven't-showered-since-Christmas, natty-haired, ganja-smoking, Birkenstocked hippie catchphrase: "Green." Peace signs, hemp and funk have gone from supporting a sensible civil rights movement to supporting whatever against-the-corporate-grain BS a bunch of forestry and philo majors dream up in a purple-haze basement off Higgins. When did every Joe Plumber/Horticulturalist start caring about the environment? And when did that concern spread to politicians like Gore, who saw his loss in the '00 election as a sign that he was destined for Christ-ier things? If you ask me, the day the kind folks on Capitol Hill start falling inline behind a guy who lost to Dubbya should come with a fluttering red flad. No blue and white. Just red.
The idea that humanity could completely destroy an entire planet is nothing short of conceited. We are, after all, talking about an interstellar rock that has survived ice-ages, asteroid strikes, mass extinctions, you name it. Is Earth even slightly a picture of what it once was? Certainly not. The Rocky Mountains haven't always been there. The Great Barrier Reef has not always been there. Put simply, "our" planet has survived a lot worse than Volkswagen and Ford. No matter what we do, the planet will continue to spin and, as evidenced by our relatively recent appearance, give birth to new forms of life.
No, the "Save the Planet" spirit behind the word green is a front. What we mean is "Save our way of life on the Planet." Are we willing to turn back the clock to the Dark Ages, exist in smaller numbers in fewer places consuming fewer precious resources? No. Has the dude in flannel at the brewery arguing about why you should use a different kind of light bulb ever argued for population control? Doubtful. The steps taken in going green limit our impact on the environment, but they don't halt it completely. Low-flow toilets are still toilets. Hybrid cars are still cars.
We're greedily preserving our own way of life, modifying our conveniences to hit less hard the raw elements we once contended with. And that's a noble enough pursuit. Penguins, pandas and polar bears can certainly use our help in making it a few more decades. But who knows? Perhaps the destruction of environment brought about by human ingenuity will trigger another alteration in the planet's character. Perhaps we're the catalyst for next change. But going green doesn't protect the planet because the planet doesn't need protecting. It's our comfortable, modernized way of life that does. Stop hiding behind "Save the Planet" and be honest. You just want to drive your Prius to Starbucks for a double-shot skinny latte and some lounge music brought to you by Dreads-R-Us.
No, I'm talking about that good ol' grassroots, haven't-showered-since-Christmas, natty-haired, ganja-smoking, Birkenstocked hippie catchphrase: "Green." Peace signs, hemp and funk have gone from supporting a sensible civil rights movement to supporting whatever against-the-corporate-grain BS a bunch of forestry and philo majors dream up in a purple-haze basement off Higgins. When did every Joe Plumber/Horticulturalist start caring about the environment? And when did that concern spread to politicians like Gore, who saw his loss in the '00 election as a sign that he was destined for Christ-ier things? If you ask me, the day the kind folks on Capitol Hill start falling inline behind a guy who lost to Dubbya should come with a fluttering red flad. No blue and white. Just red.
The idea that humanity could completely destroy an entire planet is nothing short of conceited. We are, after all, talking about an interstellar rock that has survived ice-ages, asteroid strikes, mass extinctions, you name it. Is Earth even slightly a picture of what it once was? Certainly not. The Rocky Mountains haven't always been there. The Great Barrier Reef has not always been there. Put simply, "our" planet has survived a lot worse than Volkswagen and Ford. No matter what we do, the planet will continue to spin and, as evidenced by our relatively recent appearance, give birth to new forms of life.
No, the "Save the Planet" spirit behind the word green is a front. What we mean is "Save our way of life on the Planet." Are we willing to turn back the clock to the Dark Ages, exist in smaller numbers in fewer places consuming fewer precious resources? No. Has the dude in flannel at the brewery arguing about why you should use a different kind of light bulb ever argued for population control? Doubtful. The steps taken in going green limit our impact on the environment, but they don't halt it completely. Low-flow toilets are still toilets. Hybrid cars are still cars.
We're greedily preserving our own way of life, modifying our conveniences to hit less hard the raw elements we once contended with. And that's a noble enough pursuit. Penguins, pandas and polar bears can certainly use our help in making it a few more decades. But who knows? Perhaps the destruction of environment brought about by human ingenuity will trigger another alteration in the planet's character. Perhaps we're the catalyst for next change. But going green doesn't protect the planet because the planet doesn't need protecting. It's our comfortable, modernized way of life that does. Stop hiding behind "Save the Planet" and be honest. You just want to drive your Prius to Starbucks for a double-shot skinny latte and some lounge music brought to you by Dreads-R-Us.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
10 Things I Hate About Facebook
I've grown pretty freaking tired of Facebook lately. Not tired enough to do the gutsy thing, like Sean, and pull out like it's Prom night. But tired enough to limit usage to a few minutes a few times a week. There's just no rhyme or reason to whiling away precious hours of life in the digital version of Eliot's Wasteland.
Yes, Facebook's value warrants existence. Fantastic networking capabilities, easy/free communication with friends abroad, near limitless photo-storage potential. I can sleep easy knowing that, should my laptop die completely (for a third time) my best photos are safe not only on a 250-gig external hard drive but the oh-so-accessible World Whacked Web. However, annoying crap like this turns me off the whole damn thing. "25 Random Things"? Why not just start a blog, where those who give the slightest hoot can read it and the rest of the world can remain blissfully unaware.
So, the 10 things I hate most about Facebook:
1. Facechat- MSN Instant Messenger and GoogleChat weren't enough already? Just one more way to drunkenly hit on people online after an unsuccessful night of drunkenly hitting on people in bars.
2. Applications- Huh. I've visited 13 percent of the world. Does anyone else care? No. Do I even care? No.
3. Notifications- My Kingdom needs me? So-and-so I met through him-or-her commented on him-or-her's status? Jesus Christ. (oh, I should friend him...)
Which brings me to...
4. Friending- Oh, oh, oh! I have more friends that YOU! I have more friends than YOU! What, Jim Bexley wrote on my wall?! Wait, who's Jim Bexley...
(Btdubs: Thank you, Facebook, for turning yet another noun into a verb.)
5. Photo tagging- I like posting photos, but do we really have to broadcast who is who? If I wanted to include cutlines, I'd apply to a freaking newspaper.
6. The "Scrabulous" controversy- I really liked Scrabulous. I'm fairly certain it saved me from losing my last semblance of sanity while working as arts editor for the Montana Kaimin. Hasbro needs to get off its high-horse and realize the umpteen millions it makes off Scrabble a year are enough.
7. Hogwarts House sorting- If I'm told one more time that I'm a fucking Hufflepuff, I'm killing someone.
8. The "New" Facebook- The fact that Facebook is important enough for people to dedicate time to inventing "new and better" versions strikes me as sad. Very, very sad.
9. Relationship status- Do I really need to clarify?
10. Family members- The BIGGEST point of hatred, by far. The only thing worse than being stalked by some creepy sophomore on Facebook is being stalked by your own kin. Does my mother want to hear from relative A or B or D that I was caught on camera doing shots last October? Nopers.
These points aside, I despise Facebook for the same reason I came out against LiveJournal, MySpace, MSN profiles and the like earlier on. They provide nothing more than an opportunity for insecure young folk to present the version of themselves they want the rest of the world to see. Movie interests, friends, profile pics. The Internet has too long provided an unhealthy outlet for adolescent angst. Facebook is just a symptom of the disease, one which will breed a generation unsure of itself well beyond its early twenties. It's a social mask, and it's high time users realized that. When they do perhaps Facebook will evolve once more, this time adopting utilitarian value measurable in something more than gigabytes.
Yes, Facebook's value warrants existence. Fantastic networking capabilities, easy/free communication with friends abroad, near limitless photo-storage potential. I can sleep easy knowing that, should my laptop die completely (for a third time) my best photos are safe not only on a 250-gig external hard drive but the oh-so-accessible World Whacked Web. However, annoying crap like this turns me off the whole damn thing. "25 Random Things"? Why not just start a blog, where those who give the slightest hoot can read it and the rest of the world can remain blissfully unaware.
So, the 10 things I hate most about Facebook:
1. Facechat- MSN Instant Messenger and GoogleChat weren't enough already? Just one more way to drunkenly hit on people online after an unsuccessful night of drunkenly hitting on people in bars.
2. Applications- Huh. I've visited 13 percent of the world. Does anyone else care? No. Do I even care? No.
3. Notifications- My Kingdom needs me? So-and-so I met through him-or-her commented on him-or-her's status? Jesus Christ. (oh, I should friend him...)
Which brings me to...
4. Friending- Oh, oh, oh! I have more friends that YOU! I have more friends than YOU! What, Jim Bexley wrote on my wall?! Wait, who's Jim Bexley...
(Btdubs: Thank you, Facebook, for turning yet another noun into a verb.)
5. Photo tagging- I like posting photos, but do we really have to broadcast who is who? If I wanted to include cutlines, I'd apply to a freaking newspaper.
6. The "Scrabulous" controversy- I really liked Scrabulous. I'm fairly certain it saved me from losing my last semblance of sanity while working as arts editor for the Montana Kaimin. Hasbro needs to get off its high-horse and realize the umpteen millions it makes off Scrabble a year are enough.
7. Hogwarts House sorting- If I'm told one more time that I'm a fucking Hufflepuff, I'm killing someone.
8. The "New" Facebook- The fact that Facebook is important enough for people to dedicate time to inventing "new and better" versions strikes me as sad. Very, very sad.
9. Relationship status- Do I really need to clarify?
10. Family members- The BIGGEST point of hatred, by far. The only thing worse than being stalked by some creepy sophomore on Facebook is being stalked by your own kin. Does my mother want to hear from relative A or B or D that I was caught on camera doing shots last October? Nopers.
These points aside, I despise Facebook for the same reason I came out against LiveJournal, MySpace, MSN profiles and the like earlier on. They provide nothing more than an opportunity for insecure young folk to present the version of themselves they want the rest of the world to see. Movie interests, friends, profile pics. The Internet has too long provided an unhealthy outlet for adolescent angst. Facebook is just a symptom of the disease, one which will breed a generation unsure of itself well beyond its early twenties. It's a social mask, and it's high time users realized that. When they do perhaps Facebook will evolve once more, this time adopting utilitarian value measurable in something more than gigabytes.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Discouragement has many disguises
I've been thinking a lot lately about direction. Where have I been, where am I going, all that shiraz. Seven months of freelancing has won me what? A much-improved clips packet and a deep sense of being beholden to my parents? So much less and so much more. It's supplied me with time, too much time, to ponder my degree. The rejection letters and long silences from countless editors at countless newspapers or magazines only reaffirm the points made by friends: perhaps journalism is best abandoned in pursuit of something more concrete, more stable, more promising.
The number of friends who have left journalism after graduation is about even with those that have stayed the course. Nursing, non-profit work, PR, humanitarian efforts. Some have tried, thrown up hands and moved on to other horizons within one year. And can I blame them? Last week, McClatchy froze pension plans for employees across the U.S. One of their shining publications, the Sacramento Bee, announced a round of layoffs the same day. I received the following e-mail on the Society of Environmental Journalists' newsserve, just a two or three hours after an SEJ-wide message drumming up financial support for the org.:
Today would be an especially awkward time for my fellow McClatchy SEJers
to seek their employer's financial support for SEJ or for attending SEJ
events. This morning McClatchy Chairman and CEO Gary Pruitt anounced
that the corporation is freezing its pension plans and "temporarily"
suspending the company match to its 401k plans. Minutes later, The
Sacramento Bee publisher Cheryl Dell announced that The Bee will be
making another round of layoffs between now and March 31. No mention of
buy-outs. No details on how many or the kind of Bee employees are
affected. "As we have just begun work on these plans now, you may not
hear more from us for at least a few weeks," she said.
I've spent a lot of time bitching about Lee and Gannett, but the disease continues to spread. Independents are safer, for now. Helps not to have a boss at a corporate headquarters in Metro, USA breathing down your neck about trimming expenses. Perhaps the rural weeklies will thrive in the collapse of corporate dailies, filling the void and picking up ad revenue from dropped and jilted advertisers. One thing is abundantly clear: jobs are hard to come by. And I'm not just talking about the measly five-a-day posts to journalismjobs.com. I'm talking about the dozens of part-time jobs I've applied for in the last four months. Baristas, waitresses, sales associates. Those who have 'em are keeping 'em, clinging to those hourly wages like life belts. Freelancing doesn't pay the bills, not nearly. Savings dwindles, money in the market is no longer a fallback.
That begs the question: what next? Do I entertain Sean's musings about making Valkenberg a full-time pursuit? Do I continue feeding this sad, discouraging cycle of applications and rejections? Or do I purchase a Canada pass, use my old Boy Scout connections to get a guiding gig and retreat to the interior of Ontario's canoe country? I do have one answer. I won't stop writing. All this nay-saying, all this Dooms Day shit doesn't mean we unemployed journalists have to give up. Staff writing isn't the only writing to be had, in Missoula or otherwhere. If you're passionate, if you're dogged, if you are now the news junky you once were, use that fire to fuel even the faintest flicker of work. The worst thing we, as trained journalists, can do in light of all this mayhem is throw up our hands and say "Surrender. I'm out. Not my game anymore." Then you're just the guy in the dirty trenchcoat on the corner, stabbing at the sky with a sign boasting "The End is Nigh!"
The number of friends who have left journalism after graduation is about even with those that have stayed the course. Nursing, non-profit work, PR, humanitarian efforts. Some have tried, thrown up hands and moved on to other horizons within one year. And can I blame them? Last week, McClatchy froze pension plans for employees across the U.S. One of their shining publications, the Sacramento Bee, announced a round of layoffs the same day. I received the following e-mail on the Society of Environmental Journalists' newsserve, just a two or three hours after an SEJ-wide message drumming up financial support for the org.:
Today would be an especially awkward time for my fellow McClatchy SEJers
to seek their employer's financial support for SEJ or for attending SEJ
events. This morning McClatchy Chairman and CEO Gary Pruitt anounced
that the corporation is freezing its pension plans and "temporarily"
suspending the company match to its 401k plans. Minutes later, The
Sacramento Bee publisher Cheryl Dell announced that The Bee will be
making another round of layoffs between now and March 31. No mention of
buy-outs. No details on how many or the kind of Bee employees are
affected. "As we have just begun work on these plans now, you may not
hear more from us for at least a few weeks," she said.
I've spent a lot of time bitching about Lee and Gannett, but the disease continues to spread. Independents are safer, for now. Helps not to have a boss at a corporate headquarters in Metro, USA breathing down your neck about trimming expenses. Perhaps the rural weeklies will thrive in the collapse of corporate dailies, filling the void and picking up ad revenue from dropped and jilted advertisers. One thing is abundantly clear: jobs are hard to come by. And I'm not just talking about the measly five-a-day posts to journalismjobs.com. I'm talking about the dozens of part-time jobs I've applied for in the last four months. Baristas, waitresses, sales associates. Those who have 'em are keeping 'em, clinging to those hourly wages like life belts. Freelancing doesn't pay the bills, not nearly. Savings dwindles, money in the market is no longer a fallback.
That begs the question: what next? Do I entertain Sean's musings about making Valkenberg a full-time pursuit? Do I continue feeding this sad, discouraging cycle of applications and rejections? Or do I purchase a Canada pass, use my old Boy Scout connections to get a guiding gig and retreat to the interior of Ontario's canoe country? I do have one answer. I won't stop writing. All this nay-saying, all this Dooms Day shit doesn't mean we unemployed journalists have to give up. Staff writing isn't the only writing to be had, in Missoula or otherwhere. If you're passionate, if you're dogged, if you are now the news junky you once were, use that fire to fuel even the faintest flicker of work. The worst thing we, as trained journalists, can do in light of all this mayhem is throw up our hands and say "Surrender. I'm out. Not my game anymore." Then you're just the guy in the dirty trenchcoat on the corner, stabbing at the sky with a sign boasting "The End is Nigh!"
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