“Information without context strikes the mind but peters out before the heart.” -Sarah Smarsh
Creative nonfiction is a form I find myself increasingly drawn to. In the hands of a great essayist, we see a real writer struggle with real life.
Sarah Smarsh, for instance. She is a Kansas-born journalist, public speaker and educator, and her recent piece of media criticism in Aeon struck a nerve.
In a media landscape of zip-fast reports as stripped of context as a potato might be stripped of fibre, most news stories fail to satiate. We don’t consume news all day because we’re hungry for information – we consume it because we’re hungry for connection. That’s the confusing conundrum for the 21st century heart and mind: to be at once over-informed and grasping for understanding.
In her essay, Smarsh exposes the mechanics of reporting and the news business as one culprit in the dehumanization on news. She also explores the need for real story, versus packaged up text masquerading as coherent content. Regarding what is sometimes called “hard news” she writes:
…in J-school my peers and I learned never to call 10 inches of lede, nutgraph and body an ‘article’ – true journos, we were told, call them ‘stories’
I hear and admire Smarsh’s call for a higher standard in today’s metric-fed mediascape. Media enterprises need page views, subscribers, events, merchandise and ad dollars to survive. I get that, and most writers get that. We also get that there’s a need to make a product or service out of our writing, and for the most part, we are happy to abide by these terms. Perhaps publishers, editors and writers can begin to work towards more equitable outcomes all around.
Smarsh writes about how we’re “hungry for connection” today. I agree. Imagine hiring a great chef, sous chef, line cooks and prep cooks and outfitting them with all the best kitchen equipment. But then you tie their hands when it comes to ingredients—all this talented crew can make is pork and beans, onion soup and tater tots. Publishers are in a hurry to be mass feeders of media. Conventional wisdom says that’s where the money is.
Brands want a return on content. B. Bonin Bough of Mondelēz International argues that “without the metric of monetization, there really is no way for you to determine whether content is good or bad.”
Media companies also want a positive return on their investment in content. Meanwhile, people find it hard to pay attention, can’t sit still, can’t take it all in. A lot of smart people are working on answers to the media conundrum. I am glad, because it’s easy enough to see the connection between junk media and an unhealthy citizenry.
As a writer, I want to answer Smarsh’s call for more substance and more heart in the pieces we put into the world. As a reader and consumer of media, I want to scroll less and read and think more.
Eminent domain seems unfair and un-American. Particularly, when called upon by a Canadian multi-national oil company to wrestle a rag tag group of ranchers for the last bit of right-of-way for its heinous oil snake pipeline.
According to The Guardian, by law, TransCanada can use the courts to force Nebraska landowners to sell access to their land. Company officials say they still need to acquire 12% of the total land easements from owners who have not yet reached a deal. Some holdouts have said they will not negotiate no matter how much TransCanada offers.
In an unexpected twist, Nebraska state senator, Ernie Chambers introduced a bill on Tuesday that would repeal the pipeline-siting law and bring the project “to a virtual standstill”.
Chambers is the only African-American serving in the Nebraska state Senate. He’s also famously contentious. Frequently employing legislative rules and filibusters to block proposals, his legislative opposition has caused friction with some of his colleagues in the Legislature.
“The pipeline is like King Kong, and the people and farms are like ants and grasshoppers,” Chambers said. “If they get in the way, they will be crushed with no redress.”
“The Great Plains has a rich history of this sort of rabble-rousing individual,” says Gary Moulton, professor emeritus of history at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Chambers’ detractors should take heed of the state’s populist legacy, he says, one that includes William Jennings Bryan and other advocates for the ignored and voiceless. “Ernie comes out of the ’60s, but if you take a step back you can see that it’s another aspect in the same populist vein,” Moulton says.
Let’s hope Chambers’ penchant for obstructionism pays off for the ranchers in the way of this pipeline. The concept of eminent domain makes sense on paper. Private property owners must give up their rights for the good of the larger community. The problem here is the Keystone pipeline is not clearly a seen as a benefit to the community or to the country. In fact, it’s not hard to see the project as the snake it is, carrying 800,000 barrels of crude oil a day through sensitive Ogallala Aquifer-fed habitat.
Everyone knows some of this 800,000 barrels of crude is going to leak into the sandy soil and infect the life-sustaining water underneath. It’s a matter of when, not if.
Could there be armed conflict and sabotage on the horizon? Most Nebraskans are prudent people. At the same time, I’ve always thought of my home state as a Midwestern version of New Hampshire. “Live free or die” is an expression of the granite state’s native extremism. There’s no such expression in Nebraska, but there is a pervasive live-and-let-live/don’t tread on me mentality.
Terms like “patriot” get bandied about in debates like this. The right wing wants to own the term patriot. But who are the patriots in this conflict? Are the politicians with oil money stuffed in their suit pockets patriots? Or are the people of Nebraska and America who say no to another short-sighted fossil fuels scheme that creates virtually no local jobs patriots?
The odd thing is many of the people in rural Nebraska fighting for their land might present as conservatives, but they’re now allied with populists Ernie Chambers and Barack Obama and a bunch of leftist environmentalists.
Political terminology and ideology doesn’t mean much at a time of crisis. It’s all so much simpler than that. “I’m an American, this is my land, and you’re not going to destroy it,” is about all there is to it.
One of the things I enjoy most about digital culture is the ability to listen to community radio stations around the country. It is something I do each day, and each day I find it as enriching as the last.
We become the media we consume. For your own sake and the sake of the nation, consume the best media you can find. Here, this list of amazing community radio stations will get you started provided that you like indie rock, jazz, blues, Americana and other forms of progressive music, opinion and news.
“What do you do?” It’s the age-old question that is always lurking, waiting to be asked at the next industry conference, cocktail party, and/or random encounter on an airplane.
In one way, the question is innocent and a genuine attempt to understand more about you. On the other hand, it’s a moment of truth where judgements will be levied, no matter how conscious the parties involved. Personally, I prefer the question, “What are you working on?” It’s not nearly as loaded. Yet, I can only control what I can control, which is to say I will continue face the question, “What do you do?”
Author and mentalist Tim David, writing in Harvard Business Review, outlines a four-point approach that is both disarming and effective.
When asked, “What do you do?” Mr. David suggests that you reply with:
A verbal slap
Ask a problem question
Go for the head nod
End with a curiosity statement
Let’s examine his approach more carefully:
From studying his example, I’ve managed to work out my own version of an effective reply.
What do you do?
Verbal Slap: I was an archery coach, but I couldn’t take all the traveling by van.
Ask a problem question: You know how company’s tend to annoy you with all their commercials?
Go for the head nod: You’re annoyed because the company doesn’t understand you, and they “talk down” to you.
Curiosity statement: I help companies annoy you less by getting them to hone in on genuine stories, and by using narrative techniques perfected around the campfire for millennia.
Place impacts people in a deep way. It creates culture, which explains why I am forever fascinated with the things that make up place—things like geography, local customs, food and beverage, music, art and so on.
Here’s a run down of the places (other than home) where I was fortunate to spend at least one night in 2014:
Seattle, WA (3 visits)
Bend, OR (2 visits)
Marco Island, FL (2 visits)
Las Vegas, NV
Hurricane, UT
Salt Lake City, UT
Prosser, WA
Cannon Beach, OR
Smithtown, NY
Utah in July was a highlight. We said goodbye to our beloved friend David Keller in a series of ceremonies, in Rockville and Salt Lake City. It wasn’t easy, but I was grateful to be part of these gatherings and honored to help celebrate my friend and lift up his stories and his teachings to the community.
Cannon Beach in September was another special moment in time (and place!). My mom flew in from the west coast of Florida for a west coast beach vacation. Interestingly, one of the things I love about Cannon Beach is how reminiscent it is of New England beach towns like Edgartown, Mass. I can’t write about Cannon without recommending the best restaurant we’ve ever visited in our six plus years in Oregon. Newman’s at 988. Please consider me your own personal Zagat on this one.
Visiting our parents in New York and Florida was also a total treat. As were our multiple visits to Seattle. Ultimately, people are the draw and people are shaped by place. It’s all wrapped up in one. We endure the long flights and the traffic to see the people we love. We are fortunate to love great people (who just so happen to live in amazing places).
I met Faris Yakob of Genius Steals at a conference hosted by Henry Jenkins at MIT a number of years ago. I recall being pleased that he was familiar with AdPulp. And it was fun to rap with someone I’d only known from afar at the time.
This morning, I learned that Faris wrote an opinion piece on content marketing for Campaign’s new U.S. site.
He notes that people are getting lost in semantics whilst searching for the definitive definition of the marketing practice. Here, let’s have a brief look:
One of the most often voiced is that content is not appropriately labelled — that its intent to commercially persuade the audience is veiled, which disrupts the church-and-state boundaries of editorial and advertising, and erodes the trust of the consumer in the publication, and indeed, in content overall.
One of the first things you would learn, if not the first thing, in a media literacy class is that no piece of content is objective. Everything comes with a point of view and looks to persuade you of that point of view, explicitly or otherwise.
No piece of content is objective, or neutral. I love that Faris is beating this particular drum. Journalists are not saints doing the work of a higher power. They tell news stories to make their publishers money. Just like copywriters in service to brands.
The promise of content marketing is simple. Brands who mine a substantive topical vein can connect in a real way with people by becoming the ultimate source, or the source with the best reporting, photography, videography and so on. Brand marketers have deep pockets for such coverage. Media companies do not, which means there is a vacuum that brands can fill for their benefit and the benefit of all.
Journalists are under siege today. In many countries around the world, journalists risk and sometimes lose their lives in the line of duty. Here at home, the threat isn’t violence against their person, but a failure of the business model that for decades supported them rather handsomely.
The number of full-time U.S. daily newspaper journalists has plunged to 36,700, according to the American Society of News Editors, down from around 55,000 before the 2008 economic downturn and the acceleration of an industry-wide print advertising and circulation decline.
This week we learned that advertising columnist at The New York Times, Stuart Elliott, agreed to take a generous buyout offer from “The Gray Lady” and bow out.
David Griner of Adweek wrote: “For those in the advertising world, Elliott’s departure might be the most stunning. He is widely considered the most influential advertising journalist in the U.S. and has guided the newspaper’s coverage of the ad industry for decades.”
With Lewis Lazare long gone from the Chicago Sun Times and now Elliott out, there are now zero reporters working the ad industry beat full time at a major newspaper in this country.
Meanwhile, reporters of all stripes struggle to make ends meet. See the following Tweet:
I have been asked by a fairly well-known publication to write 1500-word essay on labor exploitation for $50. Guess they want autobiography.
Given the marketplace reality for journalists today, the most shocking media news of the week is the massive walkout staged by editors at The New Republic.
According to Ad Age, the magazine has lost at least 55 people from its masthead — a mix of fulltime employees and contributing editors — since Thursday. TNR will not publish its next issue on Dec. 15.
In a memo to staff on Thursday, The New Republic CEO Guy Vidra, said the magazine was replacing its editor, moving its headquarters to New York from Washington D.C. and cutting the number of issues in half to 10 starting in 2015.
“We are re-imagining The New Republic as a vertically integrated digital media company,” Mr. Vidra said in his memo Thursday.
This, of course, caused the group of old school media elites at TNR to be utterly outraged. That their outrage would also cause them to terminate employment at a time when there is little opportunity to go elsewhere as a journalist is a testament to the strength of their beliefs, and to the deep distaste journalists have for Silicon Valley’s version of “new media.”
“People love to talk. They love to slander you if you have any substance.” -Mattie Ross
Mike Kline, my friend since freshman year at F&M, was in Portland with his family last August. Over Italian food and later over coffee at Albina Press, we spoke of President Obama’s performance in the White House, Portland’s strange ways and finally books. Mike suggested that I read True Grit by Charles Portis. He said I would enjoy it (he was correct!), and also that he is teaching the novel this fall at Shipley School in suburban Philadelphia.
Charles Portis is from Arkansas. He lives in Little Rock. His most famous heroine, Mattie Ross, is also from Arkansas, from “near Dardanelle in Yell County,” to be exact. The events of True Grit take place in 1873, but the story is recounted by Mattie as an old woman.
The novel, published in 1968, has twice been made into a Hollywood film. The first production earned John Wayne a best acting nod for the Oscar. The remake was a Coen brothers movie. Let’s have a look at young Mattie through the Coen brothers’ lens:
There’s a solid argument to be made that Mattie Ross is a feminist hero. Another way to read the book is to understand how hard it was to live on the American frontier in the 19th century. Teen girls were not taking selfies, they were working on the farm and in the house. Mattie Ross is an exceptional figure, larger than life in many ways, but there’s also an unvarnished realism here. She’s a Bible quoting Presbyterian who doesn’t have time to trifle. How exactly do we think the West was won? By women (or girls, as the case may be) like Mattie.
Portis worked as a journalist in New York City before moving home to Arkansas to write books. He has four other novels to his credit—The Dog of the South, Masters of Atlantis, Gringo, and Norwood—all of which are fan favorites. The New York Times says of his books: “Mr. Portis evokes an eccentric, absurd world with a completely straight face. As a result there are not a lot of laugh-out-loud moments or explosive set pieces here. Instead of shooting off fireworks the books shimmer with a continuous comic glow.”
Clearly, Portis has a unique voice and a great sense of detail to go with his good humor. I’m also intrigued by his knowledge of American history and fascination with place. In an essay for The Atlantic, “Combinations of Jacksons,” Portis describes his family history and culture, both firmly rooted in place.
MY ALABAMA grandmother wasn’t pleased when her youngest son (a seventh son, my father) told her of his plans to marry an Arkansas girl. She kindly explained to him that the unfortunate women living west of the Mississippi River had, among other defects, feet at least one size bigger than those of their dainty little sisters to the east. No Cinderella to be found in the Bear State. Any mention of that old slander, even a teasing one fifty years later, could still make my placid mother bristle and blaze up a little. In any kind of refined-foot contest, she said, she would pit her Waddell-Fielding-Arkansas feet against all comers with Portis-Poole-Alabama feet.
In my quest to understand the man, I read his novel, The Dog of the South directly following my reading of True Grit. The Dog of the South is narrated by a son of Little Rock and failed journalist, Ray Midge. Midge, 26, is a bit of a mess, but he’s also on a quest to right the wrongs in his life, thus he is also heroic. His hero’s journey to Central America and back is clownish, for sure, but there’s also a seriousness of intent and time for informed reflection. Ideals, people and places worth fighting for (including actual battle sites along his route)—this is what occupies his mind as he travels by car to find his runaway wife.
There’s a passage at the end of The Dog of the South, where Midge is back in Little Rock and catching the reader up on his status. He says, “A lot of people leave Arkansas and most of them come back sooner or later. They can’t quite achieve escape velocity.” I love this line. Place, particularly one’s home place, has a magnetic hold on us and Portis both reveals this truth, and revels in it.
On Nov. 4, Oregon voters will decide the fate of Measure 92, which would make the state one of the few in the country to require labeling of GMO foods.
Opponents of the measure, mainly food manufacturers and chemical companies, have pumped more than $7 million into the No on 92 Coalition effort. If you watch TV in the Portland area, the following spot is running regularly:
http://youtu.be/CPndq6JInbg
Proponents of the measure so far have raised about $4.5 million, according to Oregon Secretary of State financial filings. I have not seen this spot on TV:
Meanwhile, The Oregonian reports that Measure 92 is on track to become the costliest in Oregon history in terms of campaign contributions.
Interestingly, Ben & Jerry’s is one food manufacturer that is solidly for the measure. In fact, Jerry Greenfiled, CEO and co-founder of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream, flew to Portland for a “ceremonial” rebranding of Fudge Brownie to Food Fight Fudge Brownie.
We live in an information-rich society. Honestly, a shopper today may want to scan any and every grocery store item for nutritional data, menu ideas and sourcing, packaging and transit information.
Knowledge is power, and transparency is the reality of our time. Food growers, manufacturers and retailers can sway shoppers with rich information (a truer form of marketing). Provide the food, and the facts about the food—that’s the recipe for eat and repeat.
“I got so I simply gagged every time I sat before my desk to write an ad.” -Hart Crane
I smile when “real writers” criticize their time making advertising. There’s a nostalgic quality to the criticism that lessens its impact and renders it charming. What makes me gag is the media garbage train, which includes everything from “The Housewives of Your Stupid City” to the masquerade of cable news and the onslaught of verbal nonsense clogging up our social streams and RSS feeds. So, Crane and I agree that we have a major problem and that we don’t want to contribute to it.
But unlike Hart Crane, when I sit down to write an ad, I am invigorated, not nauseated. The making of an ad is my chance to make things known and make them right, by a small degree for sure, but right nonetheless. What do I mean by “making things right” in an ad? I mean telling the truth about the company, in new and surprising ways. The fact is there are tens of thousands American companies making great products and providing terrific services. These companies have lots of authentic stories to tell, because happy customers like to share their favorite brand experiences. These companies also have the opportunity to contribute to the culture, and many of them do.
Making advertising the right way takes belief in, and loyalty to, a different path, and a steep, lonely path it can be. There is a ton of advertising that continues to mask unhealthy corporate agendas. And there’s a ton of relatively innocent advertising that is poorly constructed, from strategy through to execution. Here’s the rub though, low standards industry-wide and decades of bad practices can be overcome, one ad at a time. It may sound like a quixotic pursuit, and perhaps it is. So be it—take me to your windmills.
Personally, I find ethics in media and in business a fascinating topic. Media is incredibly powerful, and the potential for misuse extraordinarily high. Media can contribute to the demise, or to the coming together, of people. That’s why, for better or worse, I’m in it to win it.
