Your brand can’t save you now

Bleary-eyed and bleary-brained the other morning, I was jolted awake by a trailer on the BBC World Service for a programme on the damage done by US troops to the ancient city of Babylon.

Now, I have to admit that I find that BBC radio is frequently rather tedious. The World Service and Radio 4 both have a tendency to be oh so very worthy, so very full of the earth-shattering (self-)importance common to those who have the kind of tenure most in the media can only dream about. Indeed, the only reason we had the World Service on was because Kevin works for them and it’s his job to grok world news each morning. If it was up to me, we’d listen to the far easier on the brain XFM where the most complex thing I have to do deal with is figuring out to what degree Carl Barat‘s new band, Dirty Pretty Things, is better than Pete Doherty‘s trainwreck combo, Babyshambles. (Answer: very much; number of brain cells exercised: near to nil.)

Back to this trailer. I get really depressed when I think of all those wonderful antiquities destroyed by the stupidity of whomever is currently invading whichever country. I don’t care that it was US troops filling their sandbags with archaeological artefacts, I care that it happened at all. That wasn’t what got up my nose though. It was a phrase along the lines of “The BBC assesses the impact”. As soon as I heard that, I bristled.

The BBC? Assessing the impact of US Troops on the ruins at Babylon? Since when did the BBC employ experts in Babylonian archaeology? Last I looked, the BBC employed journalists, and I have a sneaking suspicion that journalists expert in Babylonian archaeology are few and far between, and unlikely to be on the BBC’s payroll.

This is not to say that this programme is not capable of providing an accurate portrayal and discussion of the problems at Babylon (I have no idea whether it did or not). It is to say that it will not be the BBC doing it, it will be the various doctors, professors, conservationists and researchers – the real experts – who will provide the story, the analysis, the conclusions. All the BBC can do is provide a conduit for the real experts to speak to a wider audience.

Yet the BBC, like so many other mainstream media outlets, seem to have forgotten this. They have slipped into a Cult of Brand, where asserting the primacy of their corporate brand is more important than the story they are reporting. This is an ugly development of the Cult of Personality that I first observed infiltrating music journalism back in the mid-90s.

I am a huge music fan. My life is dull and empty without music, and like many music fans my age, I grew up on the music inkies – the Melody Maker and the NME. Well, it was never an ‘and’, but always an ‘or’. You had to choose. Either/or. I chose the Melody Maker, because I thought that the writing was better. But as the 90s wore on, the writing deteriorated badly, with journalists trying so hard to be the next Nick Kent or Lester Bangs without ever having their talent.

Instead, two-bit hacks spent more time writing about themselves and their experiences than they did writing about the bands they were interviewing. It was a Cult of Personality, manifested too in the music industry itself, where lead singers became more important than their bands, where managers and A&R men became more important than their charges.

The problem with the Cult of Personality was that it was tedious and dull. I wanted to know what my favourite bands were up to, I wanted an insight into their lives, into their music. I didn’t want some talentless teenaged hack with all the experience of a brick – and journalistic chops to match – insinuating that they were the most important thing since sliced bread.

Not that the Cult of Personality was (or is) restricted to the music press, or to the Maker and the NME. Oh no. Kate Adie, anyone?

It is, you could say, a natural development to move from a Cult of Personality to a Cult of Brand, where the arrogance of the entrenched media can blossom forth in all it’s glory. Who needs to worry about rigorous journalistic standards, or those pesky ethic things when you have brand to paper over the cracks?

When the BBC World Service says “the BBC assesses the damage to Babylon” I bristle, because that statement unnecessarily inserts the BBC into the story, and asserts an unwarranted authority over it. By saying that the BBC is going to assess the impact, they make it sound as if the BBC are the only people who could, but in actual fact the story is really about the experts that the BBC has consulted, and what they think has happened to Babylon. The trailer ends up saying not “Here’s a story you might be interested in”, but “Oh look! This is a story you should be interested in because we, the BBC, know best.”

Believing in the power of brand is spectacularly dangerous for media companies. It makes them arrogant, sloppy and (almost worse than that) irritating. They then start to rely too much on so-called analysis, which really is just a platform for the face du jour to expound upon what they believe, and spend nowhere near enough time reporting the facts so that the audience can make up their own minds.

Indeed, this attitude is the very antithesis of Dan Gillmor‘s honest and humble assessment that “the audience knows more than I do.”

I don’t want to hear about what ‘The BBC’ has to say, I don’t want some brand message topping and tailing my news. I want to know what the experts know, and if the BBC can’t get the hell out of my face and just tell me, I’ll go elsewhere for my information.

What would audience-driven journalism look like?

There has been an interesting discussion, both online and offline, about audience-driven journalism over the last few weeks. It’s one of the things that I’ve been thinking about for my journalism X-project.

Leonard Witt had some ideas about how the open-source movement could inspire a reinvention of journalism (podcast here – audio 4.7MB download). And Jay Rosen of PressThink wanted to kick-start some ideas at BloggerCon IV about what he called, the ‘users know more than we do‘ journalism.

I really liked Jay’s practical approach to it. He’s asking some of the right questions.

  • What kinds of stories can be usefully investigated using open source and collaborative methods?
  • Which user communities are good bets to be interested enough to make it happen?
  • What will it take to start running more trials that could yield compelling and publishable work?
  • What needs to be invented for this kind of journalism to flourish?

Like I said in my previous post, there are some projects and audiences for which this approach is best suited, and there are other stories where quite honestly, traditional methods of journalism and storytelling work just fine. Jay set up his post by having Ken Sands of the The Spokesman-Review in Spokane Washington guest blog.

We know there are local knowledge networks. Should we try to “tap into” them, or is it better to leave them alone until something happens to make partnership possible? Correspondents— we’re familiar with them. But we don’t know how to operate a vast and dispersed network of correspondents, linking hundreds or even thousands. Does anyone?

He has a few ideas: Local sports, transportation watch, weather watch. It’s all local. It’s about things people are passionate about in their own communities.

And I couldn’t agree with Ken more when he says that there’s no traction in the citizen journalism out of mainstream media outlets. Yes, as we’re about to look back a year after the July 7 bombings here in London, everyone remembers the iconic cameraphone pictures. But I think Ken is talking more about community around content rather than the flood of pictures we now get at the BBC during large news events in the UK. Is there a sense of community, a sense of participation in sending off cameraphone pics to large news organisations? I’m with Ken who points to Flickr, YouTube and MySpace.

Those sites work; the mainstream media versions—the industry calls it user-generated content—do not. Why?

I’m going to be doing some thinking out loud about these questions over the next couple of days. But one last thought before Suw and I shut the computers off for the night. We used to talk about broadcast networks, but the future is obviously in social networks. What is the role of the journalist in the age of social networks?

Good Night, and Good Luck

Tuesday night, Suw and I saw Good Night, and Good Luck at the Uptown Theater in Washington, an old movie palace that opened in 1933. It is one of my favourite places to see a movie anywhere. A couple of years ago, I saw a restored 70-mm print of Lawrence of Arabia there on the huge curved screen. It reminded me of what movies were all about at one time: Grand spectacle.

But Good Night, and Good Luck was almost the opposite of that huge epic blockbuster, a film so understated, so anti-Hollywood that it seemed at times swallowed by that massive screen.

Murrow v McCarthy

The film followed the battle between Edward R. Murrow and the paranoid Communist hunter Senator Joe McCarthy. It started off with Murrow’s speech to the RTNDA in 1958 in which he said that TV was a powerful medium but risked becoming nothing more than a box of lights and wires and then flashed back five years.

There were actually two battles in the film. One between Murrow and McCarthy and the other between CBS head Bill Paley and Murrow. I was impressed with the development of Paley’s character in the film. He wasn’t portrayed as some mindless, corporate goon so focused on profit that he put Murrow in a straitjacket.

When Murrow reminded Paley that he had promised a firewall between corporate and editorial, Paley said that Murrow had to remember the other employees of CBS that he might jeopardise by going after McCarthy.

Maybe it’s just the info-junkie in me, but the film left me wanting to know more about the main characters, more about the history. Possibly that is what a good film or story or blog post does: Stimulate curiosity, leave unanswered questions. If you’ve seen the film, let me know what you think.

‘Crusading journalism’

I found the journalist in me feeling a mix of awe and discomfort at Murrow’s closing commentaries on See It Now. Murrow was an amazing writer and journalist. His writing and delivery were inspiring.

But as Murrow was reminded in the film: “We report the news. We don’t make the news.” It’s often been something that I have struggled with as a journalist. Sure, I have my own views and opinions, but I also believe strongly that my job is to report and let my readers, viewers or listeners to make up their own minds. I’m still uncomfortable with commentary, editorialising.

Murrow didn’t mince his words. He saw something that made him feel very uncomfortable in Joseph McCarthy and his anti-Communist witch hunts. And he tapped into the terror that many felt that their lives could be ruined if they were accused of being Communists.

After the broadcast, Murrow’s team grabbed the newspaper’s to see their reviews. The New York Times called it “crusading journalism at its finest”. It was fearless.

Dysfunctional relationship

Could journalists in the US do this now? I doubt it. It’s not just that the US is so divided. I sensed a trust that Murrow’s audience had in him to tell them the truth, even if it was the truth as Murrow saw it. Murrow challenged his audience doing pieces on not only McCarthy but also the shameful conditions that migrant workers suffered. He took on big tobacco, the situation in the Middle East, just to name a few.

Can the American media challenge its audience without being challenged itself? I don’t think so. Allowing oneself t be challenged takes a strong relationship, and right now we in the media don’t have that kind of relationship with our audiences.

Some people these days say that in this new world of journalism, our job is to stimulate and facilitate a debate. At the Beeb, we call it the global conservation. To play that role, I really want to be able to challenge and be challenged. But that is going to take developing a new relationship with my audience.

This is where blogs come in for me. To do this, I’m going to have to listen as well as talk. Blogs allow us in the media to do that. If only we would.

Missing the point

Just got back from the pre-Supernova dinner, held in conjunction with the Berkeley Cybersalon:

Vietnamese buffet dinner at 6pm, followed by a discussion about citizen journalism with Dan Gillmor, Becky O’Malley, and Peter Merholz:

Technology is making it easier for grassroots journalism to take root. Craig Newmark, the father of online community classifieds, recently planted the seeds of this new movement, and Dan Gillmor gave up his tech column at the San Jose Mercury to start his own interactive-journalism venture, http://www.Bayosphere.com. In print, publisher/editor Becky O’Malley speaks to the spirit of the local community with The Berkeley Daily Planet. And the father of “blog,” Peter Merholz founded the Beast Blog, at http://www.beastblog.com, a group blog that covers everything of note in the East Bay. With organic publications like these, who needs the artificially flavored New York Times?

So far, so standard.

I was really looking forward to seeing Dan Gillmor speak, but to be honest, I found myself waiting for the meaty stuff to begin, and it didn’t. He didn’t really seem able to talk about the Bayosphere, and there wasn’t anything substantive said about the wider issues of the impact of the blogosphere on the media.

In all fairness, the crowd there (and half the panel) didn’t really seem to grasp the issues, and there was quite a bit of hostility and opinionated voices without much in the way of displays of deeper understanding. Maybe I felt that way because I have been thinking about and talking about blogging and its impact on the media for a while, so such a shallow and unfocused discussion is always going to leave me wondering why I bothered. (Although that was entirely made up for by meeting cool people such as Mary Hodder and Susan Mernit.)

I wanted to discuss what impact blogging is having not just on print media, but on broadcast news in terms of the competition for attention and the variety of sources people use to gather their news these days. Unfortunately, either I explained myself inadequately or that issue is not on Gillmor’s radar. Or, maybe, he was just feeling a bit embattled after a less than creative Q&A session.

But I think that the point that people’s attention is being diverted away from the mainstream media in all its forms by various and assorted different pursuits, and people gather their news from many different sources. The idea of the effect of blogs being felt only by the print media is as fallacious as the idea that TV and radio are only being threatened by videoblogging and podcasting.

It’s not about comparing medium with like medium, it’s about understanding that people mix and match these days. They are as likely to read something online instead of watch the news, or listen to a podcast instead of read a magazine. What’s important is not the medium but the message, and these days messages can be communicated by anyone, at any time, in any medium.

UPDATE: I’ve been told that some people are interpreting this as me slating Supernova. That’s not the case – this was a different crowd and organised by different people, although there was some overlap and Kevin Werbach did advertise this do on the Supernova wiki. He has asked me to clarify that point, though, so I am.

Stuck in the old paradigm in so many ways

Whenever members of the mainstream media ‘get’ blogging, I always feel a warm glow of satisfied surprise. I have nothing against the mainstream media (MSM) and I am not one who believes that there is no place for them in the blogosphere, nor do I believe that all journalists are inherently incapable of getting blogging. I know journalists who truly understand what blogs are, why they work, and how they work, so I have proof positive that it’s possible to both write for a broadsheet and write a blog and never have to compromise.

Whenever members of the MSM demonstrate that they don’t get blogging – which is more often than not – I feel a slight prick of disappointment: ‘Oh dear. Not again.’

No one will be surprised that the most recent cause of that disappointed feeling was the New York Times, or the New York ‘Behind The’ Times, as David Weinberger puts it in a recent post which makes a good companion piece to this one. (David reacts to a Boston Globe editorial which so very nearly gets it, but then falls at the last fence. Quelle surprise.)

The article that made me frown was David Greenberg’s article Blogging, as in Slogging (requires registration, try BugMeNot if you don’t fancy registering). Greenberg and his wife were guest bloggers for Dan Drezner for a week, and found that it’s harder work than they had previously imagined. Probably, Greenberg found it hard work because of the misconceptions he has about blogging – misconceptions which, whilst subtle, show through in his writing.

I’d like to address them, if I may. I don’t mean this to be a fisking, nor do I wish this to put this under the ‘blog fuckwittery’ category because my instincts tell me that it was lack of experience and understanding that caused the problem, not stupidity. Or maybe I’m just feeling generous today. Anyway, here we go.

My wife and I agreed to be “guest bloggers” – the online equivalent of what David Brenner used to do for Johnny Carson – for Dan Drezner, a political scientist at the University of Chicago, who runs a popular libertarian-conservative blog, DanielDrezner.com.

Most bloggers do not get their first taste of blogging on an already popular blog. Most bloggers start their blog to zero acclaim, with just a few readers made up primarily of their friends, family and colleagues. As they write and link to other bloggers, so the community at large becomes aware of them. If they write well, link frequently, join in the conversation on other blogs, have comments and trackbacks enabled and generally participate in the blogosphere, they stand a chance of building up a wider readership.

During this period they learn about blogging, they learn about writing, they go through different phases of the blogging lifecycle which equate, one could say, to the different phases of a relationship: First, it all seems like a wonderful idea. You fall into a state of limerance where everything about your partner (i.e. your blog) is perfect. Then that feeling lifts and you realise that your blog leaves dirty socks in the bed and never does the washing up. You might fall out of love a bit, and blog less frequently. You might even take a break. But then you realise that blogging really is your one true love and you settle into a comfortable, companionable relationship which you are confident will last forever.

You simply can’t experience that by blogging for one week on someone else’s blog. It’s not possible. For Greenberg to really understand blogging, he has to start his own and go through all the ups and downs, become a part of the community and participate in the conversation.

How hard could blogging be? You roll out of bed, turn on your computer, scan the headlines, think up some clever analysis while brushing your teeth, type it onto your site and you’re off.

Here, Greenberg is thinking as a journalist, not as a blogger. He is stuck firmly in the broadcast paradigm: ‘What can I write that will get lots of eyeballs?’ Far better to ask, what conversations are going on that I have an opinion on? What discussions can I participate in? What is happening around me that’s important?

I can’t really blame Greenberg for this. He’s a journalist, he thinks like a journalist, and changing paradigms is a hard thing for anyone to do.

But as I discovered, blogging is no longer for amateurs or the faint of heart. Blogging – if it’s done well – has evolved into an all-consuming art.

Oh no. Not the amateurs/professionals thing again. The only difference between amateurs and professionals is that amateurs don’t get paid and professionals do. The vast majority of bloggers do it because they are passionate about it, not because someone is paying them to do it. They do not really care about earning money, they care about communicating.

Whilst it’s true that for some bloggers, blogging is all-consuming, but for many it is not. I know a whole bunch of bloggers who don’t see it as all that important at all, they do it because it’s fun and they do it as and when they feel like it.

I think that Greenberg is falling into the broadcast trap. If you’re blogging on a popular blog and you feel the pressure to write something ‘impressive’ because you’ve got lots of readers, then you’re going to find it hard work. That doesn’t mean that blogging is hard work per se, it means that you’re making it hard work.

Last Sunday, after a cup of coffee, I made my first offering, a smart critique, I thought, of an article about liberal politics in The New York Review of Books by Thomas Frank, the author of “What’s the Matter With Kansas?”

I checked back a while later. There were, I think, three responses. Later, another post generated eight replies. Another, two. A couple got zero.

I checked the responses to Dan’s posts. He seemed to average about 50. Sure, my wife, Suzanne, had been blogging for weeks on her own site, democracyarsenal.org, but still how was she getting 12, 19, even 34 replies?

I started to worry. It wasn’t just my ego. I didn’t want to send Dan’s robust traffic numbers into a downward plunge.

Obsessing over traffic stats is a common symptom amongst new bloggers. I think it’s natural – you want to know that people are reading, you want your work to be appreciated. But it’s something that I think most bloggers grow out of as they settle into their blog and realise that it’s not about quantity, but quality.

Blogging is about self-expression, and again many people blog perfectly happily without drawing huge readerships – the fact that they have a place online to call their own and that they are able to communicate with the people who are important to them is all that they need. The issue here is that Greenberg feels he belongs in the ‘spike’ of the blogosphere where the defining paradigm is one-to-many, but by concentrating on indicators of popularity he’s missing out on the real joy of blogging, the fun of writing something and sharing it with the world and seeing what they think of it.

As I thought about what else to opine about, I started to see that blogging wasn’t as easy as it looked. Who were these people, blogging on other sites, who so confidently tossed about obscure minutiae relating to North Korea’s nuclear program or President Bush’s proposed revisions to Social Security benefits? Where did they find the time? (To say nothing of the readers.)

The advice to writers to ‘write what you know’ is as old as it is true, i.e. very. It applies as much to blogging as it does to novels, film scripts or non-fiction. Write what you know. Bloggers are very good at writing what they know, frequently and in depth. People who blog about the minutiae of North Korea’s nuclear program do so because they know the subject already (or at least in some cases, think they do). People who know about knitting write about knitting. Asking where these people find this information or where they find the time is a bit like asking how a stamp collector knows all about stamps or finds the time to collect them. They do because it’s what they do. It’s what makes them who they are.

The underlying theme is still ‘broadcast’ here, and the bloggers Greenberg describes are just as much stuck in that mode as he is:

Serious bloggers, I realized, aggressively report a pet issue, updating their sites throughout the day. They scavenge the Internet for every shard of information on a hot topic, like John R. Bolton’s chances of becoming ambassador to the United Nations or Tom DeLay’s ethical troubles.

‘Serious bloggers’? What does that mean? Are the people who aren’t fixated on the spike of the power curve automatically dilettantes? I don’t like this division. I always thought that the appealing thing about blogging was that it isn’t a medium that submits to being split up thusly. It’s not healthy for us to start believing that such divisions even exist because they don’t – it’s all in our perceptions – and by creating these divisions we forget and devalue the fact that blogging centres around individual bloggers and the conversations that they are having. We don’t talk about ‘serious’ telephone users, so why talk about ‘serious’ bloggers?

Greenberg finally decides to blog about what he knows, but then manages to misjudge his audience.

On Tuesday, I posted a link to a piece I’d written for the online magazine Slate, faulting President Bush for his remarks criticizing the 1945 Yalta agreement, in which he said that Europe was unjustly carved up by Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin.

This time I got a lot of responses – abusive ones. Sample: “Anyone who thinks its ‘ugly’ to point out what was done to millions of people at Yalta is a moral cretin.”

I posted again to clarify my point – that the Yalta agreement wasn’t what consigned Eastern Europe to Soviet oppression. But I wasn’t looking forward to the next fusillade of invective.

I did have sympathy for the audience. They expected their usual diet of conservative commentary. Instead, they got a liberal foreign policy expert (Suzanne) and a liberal historian linking to Arts & Letters Daily (aldaily.com) and the History News Network (hnn.us).

That’s another problem with blogging on someone else’s blog. You have to understand what the readers have come to expect and if you challenge those expectations you have to find yourself a thick skin from somewhere. The problem with a free speech culture, such as the one that exists on the internet, is that people are free to disagree with you, and they do that sometimes in a most disagreeable way. It can be hard to learn to deal with, especially if you are not used to getting such vitriolic feedback.

I personally don’t believe that challenging expectations is such a bad thing because it’s good to try and make people think, but I think Greenberg’s mistake was not being prepared for the reaction it would engender. There are many trolls out there, many people whose kneejerk reactions result a swift patella to the groin, and as soon as you poke your head above the parapet you have to expect people to start taking pot shots at you.

Blogging on an already popular blog is definitely sticking your head above the parapet.

Again, I think that if Greenberg had had his own blog, and built up to that slowly to that level of visibility the way most popular bloggers do he would have had the opportunity to learn what to expect and how to deal with it, but instead he went for the baptism of fire. Shame, really, because it gives him a skewed view of what blogging is.

As I checked other sites for ideas, I now realized that I didn’t need only new information. I needed a gimmick – a motif or a running joke that would keep the blog rolling all week. All of a sudden, I was reading other blogs, not for what they had to say, but for how they said it.

The best bloggers develop hobbyhorses, shticks and catchphrases that they put into wider circulation. Creating your own idiosyncratic set of villains to skewer and theories to promote – while keeping readers interested – requires as much talent as sculpting a magazine feature or a taut op-ed piece.

No, no, no. No gimmicks. No leitmotifs. No shtick. Any running jokes that emerge in a blog, any themes, have to emerge naturally. What are the words we are continually associating with blogs? Honesty. Authenticity. Transparency. The best bloggers allow their personality to shine through, they let their sense of humour emerge naturally, (if they have one, that is).

Creating some faux persona with catchphrases and hobbyhorses to draw people to your blog is a big mistake, because blogging is a long term gig and rare is the person who can keep up that sort of sham, particularly in writing. You’ll get found out. Remember Libertarian Girl?

Greenberg finally concluded that blogging was far too much like hard work, with far too much group-think, and that he just wasn’t cut out for it.

I beg to differ. Blogging is only hard work if you make it hard work. Only have time to post once a week? Then only post once a week. It’s your blog, and it’s up to you to manage the expectations of your readers and, more importantly, yourself. No one forces us to blog.

Blogging is no more and no less prone to group-think than any other communications medium, and the fact of its existence is not a good reason not to blog. If anything, it’s a good reason to pick up the blogging mantle and make yourself heard.

Finally, I have to strongly disagree that Greenberg is not cut out for blogging. The truth of the matter is that he has no idea if he is or not, because he hasn’t actually had a typical blogging experience. My advice to Greenberg is this: get yourself a blog somewhere and just get on with it. Take part in the community, enjoy it for what it is, and experiment with your own expectations, which means no big announcements, no striving for attention, no obsession over readership. Just go through the growth curve that we all go through and learn something about blogging, and about yourself whilst you’re at it. You might well be surprised.

Blogging: A Real Conversation

New Media Knowledge are hosting Blogging: A Real Conversation – an event in London, on the afternoon of 28 June 05:

The trust people put in blogs, their simplicity and interactive character, and their ability to be aggregated via RSS have combined to grant blogs a unique status in the communications spectrum.

This event will examine the increasing importance and influence of blogs – as sources of trusted opinion and as a barometer of the shifting balance of power in media publishing.

Is nano-publishing a new communications paradigm?

The growth and popularity of blogs embodies the shifting balance of power in the media continuum. But with the onset of what Demos recently dubbed “the pro-Am revolution”, are amateurs really the new experts? Or is it less a case of insufficient fact-checking by bloggers passing for journalists and more an emergent preference by consumers for personalised content, peer-review and transparent motivation?

Are blogs the new voices of authority?

Blogs were supposed to be unmediated, immediate communication, and content that could be delivered on the hoof (via moblogging and WiFi). But can this be a marketing model? The informal nature of blogs – and their simplicity for the user – has been key to their appeal to date. So will this democratising type of social software transfer so easily into the marketeers toolset as a more authentic way to foster relationships and loyalty?

I’ll be on a panel along with Mike Beeston, Fjord; Sabrina Dent, Mink Media; Johnnie Moore, Marketing consultant & facilitator; Adriana Cronin-Lukas, The Big Blog Company. This is actually going to be the first time I’ll have been on a panel discussion with people I actually know, and I’m looking forward to it.

On the other hand, I will only just have got back from America and will be horrendously jet-lagged, although it has already been proven that my mouth can continue working long after my brain has fallen asleep. I’ll let you decide if that’s a good or bad thing: Beercasting in Vancouver (MP3, a bit clippy at times, fast forward to about halfway through.)

Pitching to bloggers

Michael O’Connor Clarke has a great post about how flacks should treat bloggers when thinking about pitching a story to us, inspired by a somewhat clueless pitch left in the comments of a previous blog post. As Michael explains, trying to pitch to a blogger by leaving a standard press release in their comments is not the most effective way to do it, because we are frequently more interested in fisking the pitch than the story itself.

The effect is analogous to what happens when you stand in front of a dog and point to the stick you want him/her to retrieve.

The dog will look at your finger.

Michael was a lot kinder in his post than I would have been. Leaving a pitch in the comments to a post that is not even vaguely related to the story you are pitching shows a complete lack of understanding of blogs and bloggers but, more than that, it shows just how lazy the flack is. You know what we call unwanted marketing intrusions? Spam. You know what this comment is? Spam. And you know how most of us view spammers?

I’ll let you answer that last one yourself.

Undoubtedly, Kristine from Backbone Media, “an Internet marketing company” without a clue, thought that she was doing Michael and his readers a nice fat favour by posting directions to their own site, but you know what? I’m not impressed. There are many effective ways to reach bloggers, but comment spam isn’t one of them, and any internet marketing company which fails to grasp the conversational nature of blogs obviously doesn’t understand an increasingly large chunk of the internet and, I would say, is probably just as full of shit as the next snakeoil SEO salesman.

If you want to get your story out to bloggers, try putting a bit of effort in and actually having a conversation. I rarely get pitched to, but recently I had a nice email from one Patrick Hurley telling me about his company’s new product, AirSet. He had patently read my blog, was friendly, didn’t waffle on, and generally made a good impression on me. When I get round to testing AirSet, I will go to the site already feeling good about it, and Patrick may well get more than he bargained for (in a nice way) as I have something up my sleeve he doesn’t know about but which is relevant to his business.

Why does all this make a difference? Why am I so snarky about Backbone Media and so nice about AirSet? (You’ll already have noted that I have linked to AirSet, but not to Backbone Media.) Well, it’s because one treats blogs as just another outlet for their story, something they can use to promote their own agenda without giving the blogger any thought, care or choice in the matter (yes, the comment can be deleted, but that’s after the fact). The other treats the blogger as a fellow human being, opens up a conversation, gives them the choice of whether to explore or ignore their product with absolutely no intimation of obligation.

Which approach would you prefer?

NowPublic Citizen Photojournalism Awards

NowPublic, the website that allows you to post photos online to illustrate news stories, has announced its new Citizen Photojournalism Awards. With a prize of $100 on offer for the five weeks from 13th May to 10th June, and a Grand Prize of $500 to be awarded on 17th June, this competition is open to anyone who takes a newsworthy photo and posts it up to the NowPublic site. It doesn’t matter where you live, or what you snap, so long as it’s news!