5 Thoughts on the Future of Media

As a former agent at UTA, Barrett Garese has better insight into the future of media than most of us do, and he's blogged a fascinating essay about where he thinks film, TV and web content is headed. (In a nutshell, he believes the key is to capitalize on the inherent differences of each platform, rather than insisting on convergence.)

While reading his essay, I realized my own response would be longer than appropriate for his comment column, so I've posted it here. My thoughts will make more sense if you've read Barrett's essay as a primer, but I think these points stand on their own as well.

I'll Stop the World and Converge With You...

The convergence of film, TV and web is happening, but that doesn't dilute the power of each individual experience -- film is still film, TV is still TV, web is still web, etc. What this DOES create is a NEW experience format: the convergent format, in which content is specifically designed to either:

A) feel different across all platforms (in which your viewing experience is specifically engineered to suit the screen size or format, possibly going as far as editing with different shots or angles, depending upon the delivery method), or

B) be different across all platforms (i.e., the web version of a show is completely different, while still complementary in theme, to the film version, etc.).

Your Home Theater is Not Actually a Theater. Discuss.

Audiences anticipate different experiences depending on the distribution method. We expect to immerse ourselves in a film experience (minus the live distractions), while we expect to be distracted from the TV experience (because we're at home). Thus, we're already anticipating a different kind of content to be shared across those variant platforms -- and when the end result doesn't match our expectations, our engagement with that content may suffer. (Or, it may surprise us.)

We also expect a difference in on-screen quality relative to the effort it takes to obtain the image (i.e., driving to a theater at 7 PM should reward me with a higher quality experience than watching something on my phone at 3 AM). And we expect the content to connect with us on differing levels dependent upon our applied attention -- mindblowing films can't be processed in 5 minute increments via stolen wi-fi during your lunch break, whereas 3 hours in a theater had better provide you with a deeper and more profound experience than 30 consecutive episodes of Tiki Bar TV (which, it should be said, I love).

LOOK AT ME.

The biggest expense for online content should be promotions. You can create an amazing show for $5, but you're releasing it into a medium that A) not enough people are paying attention to, yet which is B) paradoxically flooded with crap (which may explain A).

If I were to produce a new web series (after concluding Something to Be Desired), I'd be sure that the promotional plan was in place before the first episode ever hit the web; the days of "throwing it out there and seeing what happens" are best left to people experimenting in their own free time, not people who are expecting to gain the necessary traction to validate (both artistically AND financially) their investment of time, money and effort into a web property.

Whither the Studios?

Eventually, existing corporate studio behemoths will become distribution companies that happen to have (presumably exclusive) contracts with production houses. Rather than focusing on producing AND distributing their own in-house content, they'll profit from their primary assets (reach and volume) and leave the creative aspects to the producers -- who will in turn be grateful to not have to worry about being both creative and ubiquitous at the same time.

That said, there will always be exceptions. In the long run, it's still cheaper for Verizon to produce its own web shows than it is for them to subcontract with a production company, and it's still more profitable for an indie prodco to bootstrap their way into self-distribution than it is for them to produce their own content but only keep a percentage of those eventual revenues.

A Soap Opera Without the Soap Had Better Be a Damn Good Opera

Content producers need to rely less on advertising and more on the inherent value of the content itself. Gone are the days when content is produced as a lure to hook viewers into sitting through commercials -- nor can content *be* produced under a presumed business model that eyeballs = advertising opportunities = profit. Cut out that middleman and what are you left with?

You're left with an audience who'll pay you directly for what you create -- or for the experience it creates in them -- rather than a vessel with holes waiting to be plugged by commercials.

This also impacts media being produced for traditionally large-scale distribution. Just because a show isn't pulling in the millions of eyeballs it needs to validate its TV time slot, it doesn't mean that show couldn't be profitable at a lower operating cost with web-based distribution. If I were the producers of a canceled darling like Pushing Daisies (and if I still owned the rights to that property), I would shrink the budget, post 15-20 minute episodes (or segments) online, and invite the fans to pre-pay for next season's DVD in advance; that initial influx of cash could be used to fund part of the upcoming season, which means the prodco isn't scrambling to line up sponsors now and then waiting for a year-end DVD windfall to break even.

Thoughts?

Image by perreira.

You're Not Worth My Time

It's widely believed that our attention spans are rapidly eroding. MTV, the Internet, multitasking or globalization may be to blame, but regardless of the source, everyone seems to think that nobody pays attention to anything anymore.

But why should we?

Online, people skim webpages for relevant information. When they find something they're passionate about, they'll devour endless amounts of related material across multiple media platforms. Otherwise, they zip through the bare basics -- enough to wrap their heads around what everything may mean -- and then they move on to something new.

The key word there is "passionate." Not everyone is passionate about everything. Some topics are more alluring than others, and some purveyors of information do a better job of hooking an audience than others.

The real problem? It's getting harder to make a living by being mediocre.

Gatekeepers Gone Wild

Long ago, the public was content to have their media handed down to them by OTHER PEOPLE who decided what information was worth their time. Today, the means of distribution (and production) have been disrupted to the extent that anyone can engage with any type of media at any time and in any format (give or take), which means the gatekeepers are dead.

And they're pissed.

The gatekeepers believe that some media and information is more important (or of a higher quality) than others, and they want to "save you" from wasting your time on the inferior and impractical. But modern audiences have realized that the critics, agents and hitmakers don't speak for everyone, primarily because they don't UNDERSTAND everyone -- and so we no longer trust anyone who attempts to tell us what we SHOULD be embracing.

Beyond that, there's the issue of sheer quantity. A new piece of media isn't competing against dozens of distractions anymore; it's competing with the sum total of all human knowledge and experience, most of which is available at the click of a button.

Given all of this, how can anyone expect that 21st Century digital boys and girls would voluntarily spend ANY time reading / watching / listening to something they personally consider to be uninteresting?

This Blog Post Is Already Too Long

Yes, I understand the elite's self-aggrandizing concern that allowing the public to educate and entertain itself is akin to letting them overdose on junk food, junk media and junk lifestyles. But that's a cynical defense: just because something is necessary, important or vital, that's no excuse for it to be achingly boring.

So next time you're tempted to lament that "no one pays attention" to you, buck up: people are obviously paying attention to *something* out there, and there's no reason that something can't be you.

Get interesting.

(And don't tell me fables like "reading is dead;" it isn't.)

Image by moriza.

If YOU'RE Not the Boss of Me... Who Is?

Last week, blogger Joyce Dierschke asked a not-quite hypothetical question: Do you censor yourself online? Her example, of whether or not she should have re-posted a link to a (biased) political video that she personally found amusing, encapsulates a question we all ask ourselves on a regular basis:

When I'm online, am I allowed to be me?

The answers to the question are (if you ask me) far too complicated, because they can only be revealed by first determining who you are AND what you believe.

Some Things to Consider About Who "You" Are:

Are you a person or an employee?

Are you a brand or an individual?

Are you more concerned about being authentic or about getting paying work?

If a potential client decided they didn't want to work with you because of something you said or did online -- essentially, because of who you are (and the judgment they believe you display) -- would you regret the action in question?

Are you using the internet for communication or self-promotion?

Is your belief system permanent, or does it evolve over time?

Would the person you are today be embarrassed or ashamed of anything you did 10, 5 or even 2 years ago?

Are you steadily advancing toward a specific goal, or are you exploring for the sake of experience?

Do you expect greater integrity from others than you do from yourself?

Does transparency trump ethics?

Forget Big Brother -- EVERYONE'S Watching

Every decision we make online is a personal decision, undertaken privately (or so it seems) yet available publicly to anyone who knows how to look for it. Classic concepts of privacy, identity and "the self" are in flux now due to the web's multiple layers of "personal branding" and anonymity. And while Jonah may have believed that God could see him even when he was inside the whale, Jonah also never had to deal with recruiters scouring his friends' Facebook accounts for all his potentially incriminating kegstand photos.

So before you start censoring (or uncensoring) yourself online, perhaps you should first figure out who YOU are... and who you answer to.

Image by amanky.

10 Ways to Become a Thought Leader

When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up and become an artist, a chef or (in one bout of misplaced humanism) a farmer. Today, kids grow up wanting to be social media rockstars and thought leaders. (And by "kids," I mean "thirty-five year-old desk jockeys," but I digress...)

Why the newfound passion for "thought leadership"? Because in uncertain economies, one thing still counts: influence. You may not have two dimes to rub together, but if you can convince the guy next to you that You Have Ideas, he'll probably buy you a cup of coffee just to hear you out. And that's how people without real jobs can stay alive when the depression comes.

So, without further ado, here are 10 Ways YOU Can Become a Thought Leader:

1. Get It Out There. History is littered with the corpses of people who put off sharing their big ideas because they "weren't ready yet." Do you have an idea? Share it. If it sucks, people will tell you. If it's good, people will steal it. And if it's great, people will tell you it sucks and THEN steal it. (Watch for this; it means you're on to something...)

2. Be Controversial. No one quotes the moderate, and even when they do, no one remembers what he said. If you want to be remembered, be extreme. If you want to be influential, be extreme AND easy to read. No one likes long-winded crackpots.

3. Make It All About You. Human beings have a natural tendency to cast the spotlight off themselves and onto other people, especially when they ask things like "How are you?" and "What do you think?" Be resilient. That spotlight was made for you, and the longer it's cast across your luminescent talents, the longer an opportunity the world will have to bask in the shadow of your genius. Thus, never miss an opportunity to turn any conversation into a time-worn anecdote about A Lesson You Learned (Preferably In Three Acts).

4. Start a Religion. Hey, it worked for L. Ron Hubbard and Jesus.

5. Influence the Influencers. Remember Basquiat? He was forever surrounded by low-level starmakers, but it wasn't until he literally threw himself at Andy Warhol that he got "discovered." Who's the Andy Warhol of your field? Get on that person's radar, and then don't leave -- at least not until you're bigger then he is. (Then run, because he'll probably want something.)

6. Repeat Things. This is a fast-paced world. People often completely ignore the best advice, even when it's right in front of them, because they're distracted. Or skimming. Or both. Don't let them miss out on your gems of wisdom.

7. Be Vague. If you give people a 10-step plan to upright the economy, you're a policy wank. If you tell people that "Savers Are Losers", you're a thought leader. Go with that.

8. Repeat Things. This is a fast-paced world. People often completely ignore the best advice, even when it's right in front of them, because they're distracted. Or skimming. Or both. Don't let them miss out on your gems of wisdom.

9. Be Prolific. It's not enough to have one good idea. Have dozens. Because if you're capable of being a genius once, people will expect you to be a genius in all cases. DO NOT DISAPPOINT THEM.

10. Preach Common Sense. Because life isn't all that hard, when you stop and think about it. In fact, it can be summed up pretty easily: say, think and do the things that make your life, and the lives of those around you, as fulfilling and rewarding as possible. But these days, no one actually has the time to stop and think; they need YOU to do that for them.

And they'll pay you for it.

(Photo by farlyj)

A Sobering Thought

As I was laying in bed yesterday, it occurred to me that, in all likelihood, I'll be dead in 60 years.

I'm 30 now, so -- at best -- that means I'm 1/3 of the way to my grave.

Not that it bothers me. But it does get me thinking...

When I go, will I have lived a life I can be proud of?

Will I have accomplished most of the goals I pursued?

Will I have seen and done things that made my life worthwhile?

I suppose the answer to those questions will be up to me, in my final hours. But I'm also aware that the fuel for those answers will be found over the next 60 years or so. That means every choice suddenly takes on a bit more weight.

Suddenly, "just getting by" doesn't seem worthwhile.

Suddenly, "living comfortably" doesn't seem good enough.

Instead, I'm well aware that I have a LOT to do on the road to a life I can remember with pleasure and contentment in my final hours, instead of frustration and regret.

Seasonal cliché? Possibly. But nonetheless relevant.

How are YOU doing on your road toward the Great Unknown?

What Good Are Consultants?

You have a company. You have a budget. You have employees.

Why do you need consultants?

I believe there are two specific cases when companies should look to outside consultants to help them solve problems. I also believe there are NUMEROUS times that companies squander consultancy cash when it could be better spent internally. (And, as a sometimes-consultant, I'm well aware that I "tie my own noose" as I write this.)

When You Need a Consultant

1) Your company wants to do something it doesn't know how to do, and the influence of an outside consultancy will be more likely to convince internal employees that the new direction is valid.

Example: You want to integrate social media solutions into your existing PR workflow. Your existing PR employee(s) believe the status quo is acceptable and don't want to innovate. Thus, turning to a third party consultancy and asking them to help establish the new mandate will create a sense of obligation among your existing PR staff, rather than laboring under the guise of an internal suggestion that can be sloughed off without repercussions.

(Note: By doing this, you also run the risk of alienating your existing staff, which is why it's often better to take this action AFTER internal discussion. See below.)

2) Your company needs to drastically overhaul its existing direction / workflow, and internal employees are part of the problem.

Example: Production and sales are down, and you need to upright the ship before you're dragged under. Relying upon the staff that's drilling holes in the stern isn't likely to solve the problem, so turning to an outside consultant will help provide you with a clearer, objective, picture of the problem and possible solutions.

When You MAY NOT Need a Consultant

1) Your company wants to try new things that are within the same sphere of expertise as existing, open-minded employees.

Example: As above, you want to integrate social media solutions into your existing workflow. If your internal PR staff is open to the idea, relying on them to lead the movement is usually far preferable to jettisoning them (and their loyalty) in favor of the expertise of strangers.

However, a consultant may still be very helpful in instructing your eager employees in how to do what they'd like to do extremely well.

2) Your company has problems in certain areas that could be repaired by improved communication.

Never underestimate the likelihood that the root cause of your company's problems lies in your employees inability to understand each other in the first place. (Note: You're an employee too.)

3) Your company is outmoded in some areas, but the existing employees could be more useful if their skills and time were applied in new directions.

Why keep wasting your employees' time at a soul-crushing aspect of their jobs when they could be better deployed on new tasks that will help your company gain traction / market share / momentum by charting a new direction?

Even worse: why bring in outsiders' opinions to make your already-frustrated employees feel even MORE marginalized?

Again, consultants can be valuable here in helping guide reassigned employees, but that's a solution that presumes you value your employees (and their loyalty) enough to want to help them improve their current situations (and, therefore, the company as a whole). Assigning them a taskmaster without explaining WHY this change is for the better only breeds resentment and crushes morale.

What Does This Mean for Consultants?

Technically, nothing. Consultants are entitled to gain work anywhere they can find it, and if a company is soulless enough to turn to you for assistance at the expense of the existing employees who are already providing worthwhile feedback, that paycheck is yours to cash.

But consider this:

Why would you want to consult for a company that ignores the advice of the people it already employs? Do you really need your expertise to be validated by the clueless?

Wouldn't you rather work with a company that understands the humane way to integrate your ideas within its existing culture?

So my advice to discerning consultants is: Feel free to take any job offer that comes down the pike, but you're well within your rights to inquire as to whether your potential "partner" has already harvested the insight of its his / her available (and, likely, willing) workforce.

Fear of Language

When I was in high school, my English teacher asked each of us to close our eyes. Then he said the word "boat." He asked each of us to open our eyes and describe what we saw in our minds. Invariably, everyone saw something different from everyone else.

I might see a schooner. You might see a sailboat. The guy in the next room might see a rowboat. We're all right, within our own context, but none of us is seeing the same thing.

That's because everyone comprehends every word -- and therefore, life -- differently.

The "V" Word

Three honor students at a New York City suburban high school were suspended for using the word "vagina" during a public reading of The Vagina Monologues at an event sponsored by the school's literary magazine.

School officials say this isn't a case of censorship. But, as it says in the article, "Principal Richard Leprine said Tuesday that the girls were punished not because of what they said but because they disobeyed orders not to say it."

So, basically, the girls were free to say anything... except the words they were told not to say. And telling people not to say something isn't censorship, it's...

... um...

Mean What You Say

Let's forget for a moment that these girls may have been looking to provoke controversy by uttering a "taboo" word in public. In fact, they probably were -- and for good reason.

Why are words taboo in the first place?

It's impossible to have open, intelligent discussions if certain words are off the table. That extends to certain concepts, certain beliefs, certain ideals. In essence, if we can't talk about something, then we have a problem.

On one hand, a "taboo" word / concept / belief draws more power than it rightfully should. Think about your own childhood: whenever someone told you that you COULDN'T do something, what did you then want to do MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD?

(Side note: apply that same concept to most of us trying to spin gold from fiber optic cable here in the new media space and you'll see that some of us were born to be disruptors.)

On the other hand, a "taboo" word / concept / belief means we're limiting our possibilities. We're essentially saying, "These options are off-limits. All sensible discourse must be routed around them." And so countless opportunities that could be explored, whether fruitful or not, are never investigated because to do so would be "wrong" -- according to someone else.

Are we not more highly evolved than we were hundreds or thousands of years ago, when concepts like "unspeakable words" would seem to have been far more laughably quaint?

Instead, if we're drawing parallels, the same city that just outlawed the "N" word is now also censoring the "V" word. That's a grouping of concepts that doesn't seem equally inflammatory to me. In fact, it seems quite reductive.

Why should any word, concept or belief system be closed to discussion?