Media gut check: Gods (BuzzFeed and Facebook) help us!

It’s too late to be timely on this, considering January is now over, but I finally read Mat Honan’s Wired piece about media start-ups. I’ve called out some key passages below, but the highlight of Honan’s piece happened off-page. The setup of the print-article-about-online-media-startups thing was awkwardly funny enough, but the punch line of the whole situation is that this was Honan’s last feature for Wired because after interviewing BuzzFeed for the article, he left to take a job at BuzzFeed. In this Wired piece, he wrote, “Everyone wants a piece of BuzzFeed.” The irony either stings or tickles, depending on your perspective.

The best encapsulation of the piece comes at the end, but I’m going to put it right up front so as not to bury Honan’s conclusion. It comes down to this:

Here is the big secret: Nobody has it figured out. Everyone’s just hoping not to be totally fucked six months from now! There’s no retreating from the unbundled story. We aren’t going to start going back to the front pages of websites any more than we’re going to go back in droves to print. Times will change, but they won’t change back. Which means that, ultimately, the best and only way for publishers to win your attention is with really good stories. A good story, well told and suited for its audience, has always been the thing and always will be. But never more than now, when the story has to live on its own.

Hey, that’s what I’m always saying! More from Honan:

The media has been so completely flattened and democratized that your little sister can use the same distribution methods as the world’s most powerful publishers. She has instant access to you—potentially to everyone—and she doesn’t need to invest in broadcast towers or a printing press, satellites or coaxial cable….Even Hearst never had to compete with corgi videos. But the thing is, the media isn’t just competing with your little sister—it’s co-opting her, using her as a vector to spread its content. She is the new delivery mechanism. The question for news publishers is no longer how to draw an audience to their sites, it’s how to implant themselves into their audience’s lives.

The must-see publication of the 21st century is the first vibration in your pocket. While news apps have to be fast, they also have to practice restraint. Vibrate a pocket too often and people will delete your app for being annoying. Gone from the homescreen! And good luck getting someone to try it again.

[BuzzFeed’s Dao] Nguyen sees BuzzFeed as a technology company as much as a media company, and that means investing in data and software. “When media companies think of growth, they tend to think of it as a marketing function,” Nguyen says. “We talk about growth as a technology function—building tools and products, and making changes in your platform.” …BuzzFeed has tools like a headline optimizer. It can take a few different headline and thumbnail image configurations and test them in real time as a story goes live, then spit back the one that is most effective. Once a story goes up, an algorithm looks at the early traffic and social activity and predicts whether it is going to be a hit.

“There’s a lot of precedent of distribution companies and content companies building businesses together,” [BuzzFeed’s Jonah] Peretti says. “[But] the algorithms are always changing. We have a very long-term view, and the only way to succeed in the long run is to make content people love to share with their friends, tell stories that are meaningful to people’s lives, and break news stories that have an impact on the world.”

Honan’s summary of the media’s (co?)dependence on Facebook…

When Facebook is the distribution mechanism, its whims dictate what your audience sees. A single decision about what kinds of content should appear in the News Feed could take away hundreds of millions of readers from BuzzFeed.

…leads nicely into Will Oremus’s Slate article about the same. Oremus’s piece is a well-done brief but complete summary of the way website publishing has evolved dramatically over the past not-even-decade, from the user typing in a URL to searching on Google to social sharing. He discusses how the media ran toward the ball each time, first gaming Google’s algorithms and then Facebook’s.

In fact, Facebook has flipped the script on the publishers, who are now utterly reliant on Facebook’s social media juju for their paychecks. Basically, Facebook has told publishers that videos will auto-play on Facebook users’ news feeds—but only if those videos were uploaded via Facebook, not via an outbound link to the publisher. So if a publisher merely posts a video link to its (probably very expensively produced!) own content, it will get dinged by Facebook. Oremus summarizes the problem thusly:

Facebook is now cutting your website out of the equation entirely when it comes to videos, the fastest-growing and most lucrative online medium. If you post a video on your site, it is likely to be received poorly on Facebook, and very few people will see it, so you won’t make much money. If you post it on Facebook, it may be seen by millions. But the advertisements in Facebook’s news feed belong to Facebook, not you. The side effect of posting a video on Facebook is to make Facebook the publisher of that video and to demote [publishers] to the role of producer. The only question is whether Facebook will deign to share any of that money with you.

His prediction?

Facebook will set the terms for the sharing of revenue from videos posted in its news feed, and those terms will be very favorable to Facebook. Each website will have to decide for itself whether to accept those terms. Many will resist, recognizing that they can’t possibly make as much money from videos posted on Facebook as they did back when Facebook generously linked out to videos hosted on their own sites. But some will accept, eager to be on the leading edge of the latest trend in content distribution. Some may lose money on the deal, but that doesn’t actually matter. Because those that accept will be, by and large, startups backed by venture capitalists who are willing to lose money for years as long as they’re winning market share. The holdouts will hew as long as they can to their outmoded practice of posting links on Facebook instead of full videos, but eventually they’ll either give in or lose out.

He goes on to predict that video is just the beginning, and you just know he’s right.

If Facebook and its users find that video works better when it’s embedded in the news feed, they might soon find that the same principle applies to gifs, listicles, photo essays, and even full news articles. Facebook could start by displaying a short preview in users’ news feeds, as it does now. Then, when the user hovers over the preview, the rest of the post could drop down. Posting full articles on Facebook, rather than just linking to them, would of course be optional for publishers. But it isn’t hard to imagine a Facebook blog post in late 2016 innocently advising partners in the media that full stories posted directly to the news feed appear to be doing quite well on the social network.

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RIP, EveryBlock

EveryBlock, a hyperlocal news start-up that used data to filter neighborhood news and spark discussion, has been shut down by its corporate overlord. Apparently, NBC News acquired it last year (which itself was news to me) but couldn’t find the business model to continue operating the site. That’s a common tale among hyperlocal news sites, but it still stings when one closes down.

It’s too bad — I think it had more going for it than many similarly themed sites — and its founder, Adrian Holovaty, seems shocked that the site has met its end. When he sold the site last year, he was proud of its success and confident in its future:

“EveryBlock users have used our service to accomplish amazing things in their neighborhoods: starting farmers markets, catching flashers, raising money for their community, finding/reporting lost pets…and generally getting to know their neighbors and forging community bonds. These days, something like this happens on the site nearly every day — which casual onlookers might not notice because of our long-tail, neighborhood-specific focus. EveryBlock has become a force for good, and it’s got a bright future.”

Sigh. I suppose it’s not particularly interesting that a start-up failed to locate a business strategy or that it didn’t “pivot” quickly enough to “disrupt” via its “MVP.” What is interesting about this case is that the site was a news-centric one that really challenged newsgathering tactics, asked questions about the use and display of public data and, in its small way, wrought lessons for the [cue horror-movie scream] Future of Journalism. It began, after all, as a recipient of a Knight Foundation grant.

Even more interesting is that it evolved so much over its short life (actually, wait, is six years long or short in technology?). When it began, it was just one news-tech guy’s realization that news should not be story-centric but instead should be gathered as structured data. He married the programmer’s philosophy of the separation of content and presentation with the journalist’s instincts for ever-better storytelling. Holovaty’s blog post from September 2006 is, in retrospect, both amusing and prescient. In it, he calls for parsing data and creating CMSes that support content types other than words, two notions that are laughably obvious six years later.

(On the flip side, also laughable are the mention of PDAs and the idea that tagging was “trendy.”)

Holovaty turned those 2006 idea germs into EveryBlock’s mapping and reporting functionality and, ultimately, he created a robust community around neighborhood news. The site put forth a notion of what the oft-dreaded Future of Journalism could be, or one version of it, anyway. It tried something new. It experimented. And the experiment did yield results; unfortunately, the conclusion was that this model might not be quite right.

In its sad and clearly hasty post today confirming the shutdown news, EveryBlock seems to acknowledge that it was a victim of the unforgiving pace of change in the online journalism industry:

“It’s no secret that the news industry is in the midst of a massive change. Within the world of neighborhood news there’s an exciting pace of innovation yet increasing challenges to building a profitable business. Though EveryBlock has been able to build an engaged community over the years, we’re faced with the decision to wrap things up.”

In short: “We tried. We’d like to keep trying, but trying doesn’t pay the bills.” And that’s too bad.

 

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“What happened to The Daily?” quote roundup

The Daily, News Corp.’s general-interest iPad news product, shut down this week. Media experts (or perhaps I should say “observers”—I’m not sure the media has any experts anymore) disagree on the specific reasons it failed, but they do seem to agree that it was doomed. The columns I’ve read and rounded up from around the web cite the following three conclusions:

1. Making it available only via iPad and without access to the open social web (readers couldn’t share links) made it a walled garden.

“The Daily’s device-bound nature limited its potential…. Locking into a single platform and not having a web front door limiting sharing and social promotion.” —Joshua Benton

“Publishing for a single platform, whether print, web, or the iPad, is a foolish move, and I think we knew that before The Daily was excised from News Corp.’s balance sheet.” —Ben Jackson

“The product, its content and the conversation around it should have been porous, able to flow in and out of social media platforms and be informed by them. Content should have been unlocked, and made available to subscribers on all platforms.” —Jordan Kurzweil

“More than 54 million people in the U.S. use an iPad at least once a month, but they remain just 16.8% of the population and 22.2% of people on the internet, according to eMarketer. That put a hard cap on the number of subscribers The Daily could acquire no matter how solid its product.” —Nat Ives

2. It was overburdened with staff—despite already laying off a third of the staff over the summer—and and a “legacy” (ie, print) org structure

“Simply put, The Daily never attracted the revenue required to support a team of 120 people. Launching what amounted to a digital daily newspaper with many of the legacy costs and structures of print wasn’t the best idea.” —Hamish McKenzie

“The Daily should have been run like a startup, a digital business, not a division within a division in a corporation.” —Jordan Kurzweil

3. It wasn’t interesting content (apparently! I never read it…see No. 1)

“Though it looked quite nice and its content was competent, that content was all-in-all just news and news is a commodity available for free in many other places.” —Jeff Jarvis

“[The term general reader means] a media executive is imagining himself and his friends (you know, normal guys) and intending to produce a bundle of content for that hyperspecific DC-to-Boston-went-to-a-good-college-polo-shirts-and-grilling demographic…. This is not to say that media properties cannot be built with the goal of reaching the mainstream [but successful] sites have been built up like sedimentary rock from a bunch of smaller microaudiences. Layers of audience stack on top one another to reach high up the trafficometer.” —Alexis Magrigal

Whatever the reasons it was closed down, I’m glad someone at least experimented with new ways to produce news. Trying stuff really is the only way to learn. My condolences to those journalists who were laid off. They should consider the no doubt multitude of lessons they’ve learned and call themselves, rather than out-of-work journos, technicians in the lab of digital journalism — scientists who can take the knowledge they’ve gleaned and apply it to the next experiment.

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Nobody knows anything

Nobody knows anything.

I’ve suspected for a while that no one really knows what they’re doing, what’s next, what’s going on, what the plan is (“What’s the plan, Phil?” –Claire Dunphy). As I age and gain experience, I’m starting to realize the truth of it all: Everything is slapdash. Everything is last-minute. Everything is barely hanging on. Everyone is making it up as they go along and crossing their fingers.

At the highest levels of government, the military and business, it’s all perilously close to nonfunctional. (And often it is nonfunctional, not to mention dysfunctional — a distinction.) So why should the media — even the upper echelons of the media — be any different? It’s not.

Nobody knows anything.

This thought crystallized in my mind earlier this week when I attended a tech start-up job fair Monday, an all-day start-up conference Tuesday and a Meetup called “Content Conversations” Tuesday night.

The resulting emotion from this string of events was one of deep malaise. I’d gone in thinking I’d get some perspective and advice from job creators and also hear some inspiring start-up success stories. As it turns out, the companies who were hiring were seeking programmers and UX designers, not journalists (or even, as we’ve come to be known post-Internet, “content creators”). And the panelists the following day, those who were alleged successes, had very little practical advice for the attendees. Sure, there were platitudes expressed by these supposed luminaries: Stay true to yourself. Find your voice. Put the user first.

But nothing said was really actionable. Now, going in I expected tech start-up founders to speak variously in jargon and dude-speak; it’s their MO. However, I wanted more from the content-focused discussions and panelists. Unfortunately they, too, had only vague advice in terms of the future of content on the web, what’s next for those of us who create content, and how brands can use content to sell their products.

I left the conference to attend the Meetup, which was a Q&A with Noah Rosenberg, the founder and editor of Narrative.ly. He seems like a nice fella, and I agree with his thesis that the Internet’s short bursts of information are starting to zap our brains. He’s trying to remedy that with what he terms slow journalism — long-reads stuff focused on a weekly theme. But he’s paying his contributors for their many-thousands-of-words pieces not in dollars but in exposure, mostly. He regrets that he can’t pay them what they’re worth, and when I asked how he thought the Internet could help create high-quality content while providing a living wage for content creators, he said, “That’s the million-dollar question” and “There’s no magic bullet.” So no answers there, either.

I left feeling dejected and resigned. But I awoke the next morning with a realization: Nobody knows anything. No one was able to provide answers to the information I was seeking — all day long — because no one knows. Not high-ranking people, not low-ranking people. Not CEOs, CTOs, CMOs or interns. No one!

Nobody knows anything because we are in a time of extreme transition. That’s not a new or original thought, even for myself. But sometimes you have a moment when a mere notion is made real. You go from knowing it to knowing it. For me, that was this experience. I saw for myself, hands-on and up close, that in times of transition the story cannot be told, because no one knows how it turns out. You have to live it, day by endless day, until you’re on the other side. And even then, you don’t really know for sure that you’ve reached the other side until much later.

Just as you couldn’t tell that the disappearing shoals under your shoes fomented a destructive deluge that would make you question your survival, so too are you unsure, once you’ve grabbed onto a branch and tenderly climbed onto the opposite bank, that you’re truly safe.

That is the unfortunate state of the media today: We’re in the rapids, hanging on for dear life and praying. (Which I would not deem a strategy, exactly.) The media — news, advertising, marketing, TV, movies, print, online, creation, distribution — and those of us who practice it are evolving, and nobody knows what will happen. And I’m not upset about it; I’m ready to join in and try things, experiment and help in the effort of making it up as we go along.

And I don’t think anyone else has a better idea how to navigate these waters, because nobody knows anything.

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Narrative Science and the Future of StoryTelling

kris hammond narrative science

On Friday I had the good fortune to attend the Future of StoryTelling conference. Among the leaders and luminaries in attendance (whose names I will not drop here) was Dr. Kris Hammond, who is the CTO at Narrative Science, which has created an artificial intelligence product called Quill that transforms data into stories (the product generates a story every 28 seconds, per Hammond). I’ve written about Narrative Science before, and I argued in that post that Narrative Science “is not a threat, it’s a tool, and it fills a need.”

Now that I’ve met Dr. Hammond and heard him speak, I’m more a believer than ever that this is the future of journalism — and not just journalism, but all of media, education, healthcare, pharmaceutical, finance, on and on. Most folks at FoST seemed to be open to his message (it’s hard to disagree that translating big data into understandable stories probably is the future of storytelling, or at least part of it). But Hammond did admit that since the Wired story came out in which he was quoted as saying that in 15 years, 95 percent of news will be written by machines, most journos have approached him with pitchforks in hand.

I went in thinking that the two-year-old Narrative Science went hand-in-hand with Patch and Journatic in the automated-and-hyperlocal space, but I now think that Hammond’s goals, separate from these other companies, are grander and potentially more landscape-altering.

I know I sound like a fangurl, but I was truly that impressed with his vision for what his product can be, and what it will mean to the future of journalism. No, it can’t pick up the phone and call a source. It can’t interview a bystander. It can’t write a mood piece…yet. But they’re working on it.

With that, my top 10 quotes of the day from Dr. Hammond:

The first question we ask is not “What’s the data,” it’s “What’s the story?” Our first conversation with anyone doesn’t involve technology. Our first conversation starts, “What do you need to know, who needs to know it and how do they wanted it presented to them?”

Our journalists start with a story and drive back into the data, not drive forward into the data.

We have a machine that will look at a lot and bring it down to a little.

The technology affords a genuinely personal story.

It’s hard, as a business, to crack the nut of local. For example, Patch doesn’t have the data, but they’re the distribution channel. There’s what the technology affords and what the business affords…. We don’t want to be in the publication business.

Meta-journalists’ [his staff is one-third journalists and two-thirds programmers] job is to look at a situation, and map a constellation of possibilities. If we don’t understand it, we pull in domain experts.

The world of big data is a world that’s dying for good analysis. We will always have journalists and data analysts. What we’re doing is, we’re taking a skill set that we have tremendous respect for and expanding it into a whole new world.

The overall effort is to try to humanize the machine, but not to the point where it’s super-creepy. We will decide at some point that there’s data we have that we won’t use.

Bias at scale is a danger.

The government commitment to transparency falls short because only well-trained data journalists can make something of the data. I see our role as making it for everybody…. Let’s go beyond data transparency to insight transparency. It can’t be done at the data level, it can’t be done at the visualization level, it has to be done at the story level.

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Journatic and the future of local news

This week’s This American Life featured a segment on Journatic, a hyperlocal, scaled-content creator that’s apparently replacing local reporters in many markets. I’ve previously written about hyperlocal news and the value of using algorithms in news creation, so the story was of great interest to me.

My argument with hyperlocal is that no one has yet figured out how to do it right. It sounds to me like Journatic is finding some success, but it’s also failing in important ways. My defense of algorithms is mostly to do with the company Narrative Science, which as I said is “not a threat, it’s a tool, and it fills a need.” That need is basically the scut work of news reporting, and although the folks there are working on this very issue, for now, “It’s a tool that does a programmatic task, but not a contextual one, as well as a human.”

Journatic aims to solve the hyperlocal problem with the algorithmic solution. The company scrapes databases of all kinds, then uses that data to “report” on local bowling scores, trash pickup times, where the cheapest gas is, and who has died recently. The company does this by using algorithms to mine and sort public information, and there’s nothing necessarily wrong with that.

When it launched, Journatic-populated site BlockShopper was basically a real-estate listings site based on publicly available data. Using public records, it would “report,” for example, that “123 Main St. is in foreclosure.” But since then, the algorithms and tools have gotten smarter. Soon it was able to say a home was in foreclosure “by the bank” and also add that it “is up for auction on March 31.” The site is now so smart that it actually feels almost invasive. To wit:

The real estate information contained in the article is publicly available, from the names of the people involved in the transaction to the price paid to the location details. The fascinating thing, and what pushes it into a brave new frontier of journalism and privacy invasion, though, is that the information on the professions of the involved is also publicly available (probably via LinkedIn). Arguably, all the article is doing is presenting public data in a new format. The difference is access and availability. In the pre-Internet days, there was no way to know public information except to go to the city records office and look, and there was really no way to know about peoples’ professions except to know them or ask them. These tasks required interested and motivated parties (such as journalists), because actually going places and talking to people requires on-the-ground reporting (not to mention complicit consent). This is not the sort of work Journatic traffics in. That’s not a criticism, necessarily, just a fact: There used to be barriers to the information; now there aren’t; Journatic uses this lack of barriers plus its algorithms to surface the data.

 

Journatic aims to solve the hyperlocal problem with the algorithmic solution.

 

At first, the company didn’t do any (or much) writing or analysis. According to This American Life and its whistle-blower, though, the company now pays non-native-English-speakers in the Philippines between $.35 and $.40 a story to try to add a bit of context to the data. Thirty-five to forty cents! However shady this is, though, it is not necessarily unethical. It’s capitalistic, and it’s pretty shameful, and it feels wrong somehow, but it’s not unethical journalistically.

Where it does get unethical is when readers are misled, and that has apparently occurred. They force these writers in the Philippines to use fake bylines like “Amy Anderson,” “Jimmy Finkel” and any number of fake bylines with the last name “Andrews,” in order to Americanize them and dupe readers, according to the show. This is flat-out wrong, and I think Journatic knew it — they apparently reversed their stance on this after the story aired.

But ethics aside, and journalism in broader context here, Journatic’s founder, Brian Timpone, claims that the “single reporter model” doesn’t work anymore. The Chicago Tribune, one of Journatic’s customers, says that it’s gotten three times more content for a lot less money. These are serious issues for the future of the profession (along with the opportunity for privacy invasion and privacy mishandling that all this unfiltered data presents). It’s no doubt true that the Trib paid less money for more content versus hiring local reporters. But what is the quality of the work? I think we all know the answer. Shouldn’t that be a bigger factor than it is? If you’re just turning out junk, your brand gets diluted, and your readers soon abandon you altogether.

It’s easy to criticize, but it seems to me that Timpone is trying, as we all are, to devise a way forward. That’s admirable, in its way. It’s a little scary, and the desire for progress sometimes makes us color outside of the lines, and when that happens, places like This American Life need to be there as a regulator, as has just happened. We’re all still muddling our way through the ever-changing new online media landscape, and we will test theories and make mistakes and learn lessons, and with any luck we will end up with a better product, one that serves readers first, last and always. I hope someone is able to someday crack the code of good news done quickly at good quality for a good wage. Until then, we must keep trying.

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Hyperlocal news in context

The New York Times quietly announced that it was ending its three-year-old experimentation with hyperlocal journalism, and on its heels, the Neiman Journalism Lab wrote a piece following up with some of the players and laying out five specific lessons learned. These lessons are:

1. It just doesn’t make sense for big media companies to pay their staffs to go hyperlocal.
2. Hard-hitting hyperlocal coverage benefits from some professional journalism.
3. Create a platform that makes it easy for people to participate in diverse ways.
4. Understand the power of email.
5. Don’t abandon experiments in “innovation land.”

Hyperlocal — which I define as small-time stories that are confined to a geographic area but which are incredibly important to that area — is a serious puzzle, one that no one has found a good solution for yet. When hyperlocal had buzz — probably back two or three years ago now, when it wasn’t yet clear that it was such a quagmire — the indicators were that as papers were shutting down left and right, folks needed an online equivalent for news and such. The argument was that print papers were closing down because their “business model” — which is to say, putting interesting and germane copy around relevant ads — was failing, but online news would somehow be the answer. For some unknown reason, but probably because it was much, much cheaper, the people running these new hyperlocal startups (or sometimes online versions of existing papers) also convinced themselves that, in addition to going online instead of print, they would also do it on the cheap: Instead of paying experienced beat reporters to do good ol’ writing about the day’s local news, a model that had worked forever, they would instead fired those people, “engage the community” and hire “citizen journalists.” In retrospect, that didn’t work so well.

According to the Times‘s Jim Schachter, it turns out it’s “impractical” for the New York Times, being a national and international news org, to turn to hyperlocal coverage. Well, yeah. Despite the fact that the Times itself has a well-read City Desk (read: hyperlocal news), it’s not their model to start an equivalent in Wherever Else, USA. They know New York City. They have a giant, well-recognized brand in which local places want to place their trust and their ads. It’s a good combination — it’s a business, in fact! — called “the news media.” It’s “scalable” in that it works (or used to) in almost every community across the world.

Another now-obvious hyperlocal lesson learned: Professional journalists are good at writing and editing. Non-journalism-skilled “citizens” aren’t necessarily good at that stuff. Extrapolating, when readers want information, they want it to be relevant and clear. They don’t want to have to work for it. When these waters are muddied — trying to parse what a non-journalist is trying to say among possibly irrelevant, definitely badly written prose — it is not a fun time. Readers’ response to this isn’t to get even more engaged and volunteer to be the citizen journalist, much as the bottom-liners at media companies wish they would. It’s not even that they get riled up and want to comment about the quality. What readers do is, they just stop reading.

The thing is, though: People care deeply about and do want to read about local news. They care about school board meetings and and city council decisions and high school sports scores and local heroes. They just don’t want to go to the board meetings or ball games themselves. They don’t care that much. Plus, they’re busy doing their own jobs.

So these are two key realizations of the hyperlocal business: You have to provide relevant and well-written copy that doesn’t ask anything of the readers other than to read. (And maybe, if it’s well-written and relevant enough, they might actually pay for the privilege and/or comment on a story.)

Another essential understanding is recognizing and respecting a corollary phenomenon: the rise of social media as a determiner of local relevancy. The Neiman article doesn’t touch on it at its own embarrassment, since engagement is this area is absolutely insane, off-the-charts, disruptive, phenomenal, revolutionary, whatever word or phrase that means a new paradigm has been created. That a new paradigm for social interaction occurred simultaneously yet oppositionally with the attempt at a new paradigm for local news is a coincidental but unfortunate event (unfortunate, that is, for these news sites).

My understanding of the fourth finding, “Understand the power of email” is that people like newsletters. But in my experience this is neither true nor relevant. However, the third lesson, the idea that technology must facilitate participation, is huge, and it’s another key point to answering the question that Schachter proposes: “How do you prompt communities into the act of covering themselves in a meaningful way?” I don’t have the answer (does anyone?), but I think social is playing no small part in this, too, and one need only see all the check-ins and status updates to see that people do like participating in the community around them (and, in turn, telling others about it in order to either humble-brag or exacerbate their followers’ FOMO or both).

I almost want to (badly) paraphrase Mean Girls by saying, “Stop trying to make hyperlocal happen.” But actually, I do think hyperlocal has a place in our evolving news, online and social ecosystem. Hell, I think algorithms have a place. It’s early days yet. But it seems to me that what successful products have in common, and what they all come to realize sooner or later, is that above all else, they must serve the reader (or user). It’s so incredibly obvious yet so often overlooked. And as soon as hyperlocal sites incorporate this truth into their businesses, the better the experience will be for readers and the online news industry at large.

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When incremental change isn’t enough

I’m loving all the logical thinking in this excerpt from The Business Model Innovation Factory by Saul Kaplan. Lots of gems here; he does a great job of clearly identifying and explaining concepts and principles that are plainly true, including “Transformation is hard” and “We need to try more stuff.”

Sometimes tweaks aren’t enough. Sometimes nothing short of reinventing yourself, your organization, or your community is called for. The start of the 21st century is one of those times. If anything is certain about the new millennium it’s the pace of change. New technology relentlessly hurdles into our lives. Ideas and practices travel around the world at Internet speed.

Incremental change may have been enough at the end of an industrial era marked by me-too products and services, process re-engineering, best practices, benchmarks, and continuous improvement. We have built institutions that are far better at share taking than at market making. We have become really good at tweaks.

Most industrial era leaders never had to change their business model. One model worked throughout their entire careers. They could focus on improving their market position and competitiveness by making incremental improvements to the existing model. …Most leaders do what they are comfortable with and know how to do, they strengthen and become even more entrenched in their current business models. They add new products and services to the current model. They deploy technology to strengthen current capabilities. They extend the current business model into new markets. And they try to create favorable laws and go to court to block new business models. These strategies may create value in the short-term but none of these efforts to strengthen existing business models are effective for long in the face of a disruptive competitor that is changing the way value is created, delivered, and captured through an entirely new business model. Disruption is now the norm instead of the exception.

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