Today Chartbeat had some login problems. None of our producers or editors could log in. Our Google TV that usually displays realtime stats for the newsroom was blank. And we weren’t alone at The Seattle Times, as evidenced by mass freakout on Twitter. But Chartbeat pulled through… and also bought beer for The Seattle Times. See tweets below. Continue reading
The concept of “measuring impact” in journalism is one that’s been on my mind a lot lately. I think about it daily in my role as a homepage producer at The Seattle Times, it was the prompt from Greg Linch for this month’s Carnival of Journalism, and now as I prepare for tomorrow’s TechRaking conference: What’s a better metric for journalism? It’s the golden question.
I spend some of my time at The Seattle Times working as a homepage producer. This means that when I’m in the chair, it’s my job to find the best content on the site and from our partner sites (blog posts, wire stories, articles, photo galleries) to create the most interesting, diverse and useful mix on the homepage. Hundreds of pieces of content (and journalism) are being thrown my way, each vying for top real estate above the scroll. But I only have roughly 10 spots to fill. How I can I decide what goes where and for how long?
If I made my decisions based purely on metrics, the page would constantly be a combination of headlines about Amanda Knox and any/all sports. We don’t make editorial decisions based purely on metrics, because metrics don’t give you the full picture. Yet, when it comes to monetizing journalism online, clicks and pageviews are the only metrics we use to make decisions. Our editorial values aren’t aligning with our business values — then we wonder why making money online is so difficult.
What we need to do is find a means of measurement that measures the impact of our journalism, empowers us to keep doing the journalism that creates said impact, and then monetize the journalism that has the most impact.
My handwritten brainstorm about quantifying impact for investigative journalism.
In the spirit of TechRaking, I’m going to focus here on investigative reporting: It’s the kind of reporting we do that has the most impact. It can lead us to public policy changes, resignation of top officials, the eventual saving of lives. The impact it has is far-reaching, but it’s not necessarily the kind of content that gets the most eyeballs. A reporter could spend years gathering data and records on a story like this, yet it’ll end up on the front page of Google News for a day or two, at absolute most, before it falls into the abyss of the web.
When I’m on the homepage or running The Seattle Times’ social channels, those investigations will get love while they’re fresh. Maybe a few days, or a week. Then we’ve moved on to the next thing. Is that OK? The purpose of this kind of journalism is to bring issues to light and create change, regardless of how many people see it, right?
A few questions worth exploring:
Now, to try to answer them one-by-one:
We do enterprise, investigative reporting to uncover the truth, bring about social change, reveal corruption, or make sense of mass amounts of data to reveal trends that otherwise would never be brought to light. This is the kind of reporting that could take years of someone’s life.
The act of publishing used to be the end of the story. With the web, commenting comes after publishing, and then comment threads close after 72 hours. It shouldn’t start or end there (see Daniel Victor’s post about the reader contributions grid). Certain cases of investigative reporting require secrecy before publishing, but many types of reporting provide an opportunity to crowd source information and data. Post-publishing, we can continue engaging, which leads me to…
Do we take it too far if we have an agenda? We know that there’s an increase of methadone-related deaths in Washington state because we have the data. We know the increase in deaths is directly related to the state preferring the drug over other painkillers because of its cheap cost. We know the overdoses are accidental, not from addiction. We know deaths are more frequent in poor areas. We know this is bad and we know that publishing the facts can bring good, can bring change. We know there’s something we want to uncover. Is this an agenda? Some would say yes. Most would probably say that we let the public decide. Either way…
Can we provide our audience with a platform for seeing through the change we hoped to bring? A way to donate to a fund, or write a letter to a senator, or share the campaign on social media (think KONY 2012-esque movements, which newspapers haven’t been able to parallel). In the past, this would be something we leave for other, independent groups to take on — we’re completely unbiased, objective entities, after all. But think of the opportunities for creating an engaged community that you can steer. A community that keeps coming back to do good. A community that is well-informed and about to drive conversation around the issues you cover. A community that’s empowered.
What would that platform for empowerment look like? Maybe something like Spot.us, where there is a specific call to action for each item, and a progress bar to show amount achieved until the change has been brought about. Maybe this aspect is led by an editorial board, making them relevant again.
And while we’re talking about UX/new functionality as a form of engagement… we should make investigations easier to digest. Walls of text are good, but with varying parts to different series, plus dumps of data and source documents and visualizations and interactives and social media and video, etc., it can sometimes be hard to just “jump into” an investigation after-the-fact. Imagine thinking beyond the 65-inch story that contains a few hyperlinks to other parts of the investigation. A few ideas:
If we want people to pay attention, show them how much time went into the journalism. It may seem like you’re tooting your own horn by doing this, but it’s a way of establishing your own credibility and the news organization’s. A few thoughts:
And finally, just as we need to show how much time went into a series, we should also show what resulted. Newspapers sometimes write follow-up stories that reference some sort of legislation change that resulted from a particular piece of reporting, but there’s no way of integrating that back into the project as a whole as a way of showing the community our value. Imagine if, at a glance, the community could see all the change one newspaper has brought over hundreds of years, or the change that one online-only org has brought in a few years? Just one more way of getting communities to trust us.
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Of course, I opened this entire post talking about how measure impact, and the items above really only address how to more accurately and effectively show impact to the people who matter most – the people who read what we publish, the people who benefit (or don’t) from that impact, the people who can become more engaged to heighten that impact.
After we accomplish that, maybe measurement will be easier to come by. And maybe then people will be more interested in paying for that kind of journalism, because its valuable, reliable, easily-digestible, and very clear to see its value. Maybe.
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I know I need to do mockups of all this to bring my ideas to life, and I promise to do it soon. Maybe on the plane ride back to Seattle. But, now, sleep. See you in the morning #techraking. As always, thoughts welcomed.
//end braindump
//p.s. though I’ve referenced Seattle Times investigations in this post, these are my own, personal ramblings and don’t represent the motivations behind The Seattle Times, editors, reporters, or in fact any relation to the actual reporting we’ve done. I’ve just drawn from those examples because I am familiar with them.
Can a journalist be a capitalist? It’s the question asked by Michael Rosenblum as he describes the current state of the journalist:
We are the perpetual groveling employees, beggaring for a few crumbs and generally seeing our jobs and incomes slashed as the web and new digital technologies roll over the old.
And why is that? Why are we such schmucks?
It’s in our nature. It’s in the image that we have made for ourselves.
It’s true. They don’t teach us how to make money in journalism school. That was what they taught business and advertising students. We’ve always been spoiled in that way — we provide the content and the other side of the company (you know, those people on the eighth floor that we don’t ever talk to), they’ll make sure we get a paycheck.
I’ve always had this theory about business people, though (sorry business people; you can contradict me if I’m wrong). I first observed it in college when business students handled advertising at The Mustang Daily, my college paper. They didn’t care about advertising on the web and they didn’t care about finding innovative revenue solutions because newspapers weren’t at the heart of their industry, their training, or their passion — it was a small subset. These students were going to leave college and work at tech companies, non-profits or other businesses — probably not newspapers. They will always be able to find jobs in other fields, and, if newspapers go away, that’s only one small part of their entire industry.
(Interjection — small, unscientific survey: Of the business staff that I knew from my college newspaper, none of them are working at newspapers or anything related to the news industry today. Of those that I could find online via Twitter, Facebook and LinkedIn, these are the places they work: Box.net, SayNoMore! Promotions, Bon Voyage Travel, Triage Consulting Group, Bridge Design, News America Marketing, Merge Healthcare, The Shand Group, Cal Poly University, Target).
From a career perspective, it doesn’t matter to business students whether journalism flourishes or fades away. But for journalists, this is what we do. This is our lives. We have more invested in the survival of journalism. This is our future at stake, and, more importantly, society’s — the future of free-flowing information, watchdog reporting, and democracy. If we want high-quality journalism to stick around, we have to take it into our own hands to figure out innovative ways to support it.
The reason journalists are “perpetual groveling employees, beggaring for a few crumbs,” as Rosenblum describes it, is because of our oath to objectivity. Once we start thinking about money, our pure motives for obtaining truth at all costs are suddenly obliterated. The aura of unbaisedness surrounding the work we do becomes murky when we try to sell it, because we’re no longer thinking about the better good, but our individual (and the industry’s collective) good. Right? Right?!
Wrong. Because once you’re unable to sell it, there’s something inherently wrong with how you’re doing it. That burden falls on the content producers (journalists), not the content sellers (advertising). Once we have our act together, they can monetize it more effectively. Journalists are the ones who know the content and the readers. We are the ones with access to the information and data and public records. We are the ones who have to think outside the box, first and foremost.
No offense fellow journalists, but we don’t exactly have track records for being innovative thinkers when it comes to content. We’re creatures of habit, filing our 26 inches of copy and calling it a night. It’s naive and irresponsible for anyone in any newsroom to not be thinking about how we can make money from our content. To create content that is sellable is to create content that is valuable and relevant.
So far, I’ve addressed journalists working at newspapers. You can’t blame me — I work at one; it’s my frame of context. There’s a big difference between whether we should be actively thinking like capitalists, and whether our cultures invite it. When you’re at a newspaper, your ability to truly think like a capitalist is severely limited by the bureaucracy and tradition surrounding a newspaper — there is a whole other department hired to think about that, and what do journalists know about money, anyway? Quite honestly, a journalist in the newsroom probably won’t have much of an effect on how business works. So what they can do is create unique, useable content that can be “sold” in a different way on the web. Simple examples: sponsored live chats or event/issue dashboards, unique video with preroll, data visualizations that can be sponsored and advertised. It also has to go beyond content types — journalists need to think about how they find stories, tell stories and distribute stories, and how that impacts value.
When I say “value,” I’m not talking about wraping your content in ads; display advertising isn’t nearly radical enough, especially the way that most newspapers do it (see screenshot to the right — you really can’t miss it). That’s why working outside of traditional media is probably the best way to truly think as a capitalist, though I must admit (perhaps naively) that I still have hope that I can do it at a newspaper. Places like Spot.us (disclosure: I worked with them) or places like, dare I say it, Patch, are good examples of thinking outside the box outside of a traditional newsroom.
Ideally, I’d like to see a world where business and journalism aren’t so far separated. We already have hybrid teams of hacker-journlalists forming at places like The New York Times and The LA Times and The Chicago Tribune. It’s a concept that didn’t exist a few years ago — there were journalists and IT people, but not hackery people doing journalism. Why can’t it be like that with business? Jarvis is on the right track with teaching entrepreneurial journalism, but I haven’t seen traditional newsrooms forming business-journalism teams where businesspeople who get journalism have the final say on creating innovative, effective solutions that are integrated into the entire workflow, process, and mindset of how journalists do their jobs.
So, can a journalist can be a capitalist?
Things I would have like to touch more on in this post:
As always, your thoughts and criticism are welcomed.
How The Seattle Times covered a snow storm – My recap at 10,000 Words about our snow coverage. The most interesting part was the live chat that we kept live all day for three days to give status updates and answer reader questions. We had an overwhelming after-the-fact response from our readers who were absolutely pleased by this community service.
Why can’t newspapers make money online? (Mashable) - So, they’ve got it all figured out? “The bottom line is this: the reason that newspapers can’t make money is because they’re pricing themselves out of the market.” It’s a lot more complicated than that. I like what Paul K. Ward says in the comments of the article: “Newspapers and other information outlets shouldn’t be setting sights on paying their costs, they should be focused instead on creating demand for what they offer at a profit. ” There are so many problems with the way many newspapers present and distribute news online that makes it less desirable than other outlets. And the fact that we’re still calling ourselves “newspapers” is problematic too. If that’s what we identify as, that’s what we prioritize, and the web will always be an afterthought. We are media companies. We have websites and newspapers. And we need to think creatively about the future of both. Create unique demand for our content online, then you can charge for it.
I hate going to conferences or speaking to classes and getting the question, “So, is ‘Michell’ your maiden name?” No, actually. It’s my middle name (pronounced ‘Michelle’) and I was stupid to start using that for my global username from the start. So I just changed my Twitter handle to @laurenrabaino. Yes, it’s a few characters longer, but it’s something I’ve needed to do.
The quick back story: I started using “laurenmichell” as a username for various accounts in high school, back when it wasn’t quite cool to use your first + last name. It was a middle ground between anonymity and true identity, and the spelling of my middle name is unique enough that I was able to grab that handle (mostly) everywhere. After using it for a few years, I’ve been scared to change it. Continue reading
As the newly-elected VP of Programs for the Seattle chapter of the Asian American Journalists Association, my first order of business was, naturally, a website redesign – freshly launched this morning. It was a quickie makeover that I will probably improve over time. With the redesign, we’ll also be posting more items to the blog. We already have two fresh items from our Seattle members, including a defense of student-journos at WWU and a callout to “backpack journalists.”
Being involved with AAJA is a reality check for me because I’ve always been involved in circles like ONA and Hacks/Hackers — very distinct tech circles of the journalism community. This is the first time I’m involved with an organization more representative of the actual tech skills that everyday journalists have. It’s been fun teaching them about blogging and sharing my philosophies on social media, web journalism, etc. In my role as VP of Programs, I plan to host workshops and training for basic tech skills, even though that’s slightly out of the scope of the role. My main responsibilities lie in organization and promotion around student scholarships.
AAJA Before
AAJA After
The new, convoluted life cycle of a newspaper story – My latest post at 10,000 Words is getting more attention than I anticipated. Apparently it’s an issue that resonates with a lot of people at print publications: how to make something cohesive out of ongoing stories when you’re constantly publishing updates in the form of tweets, blog posts, print stories, etc.
WooThemes launches theme based on Rutledge’s redux - I wrote in July about Andy Rutledge’s design redux getting slammed by journo-tweeters after he wrote a scathing post (which has since been deleted from the web) about news design. While many of his points were spot-on, it was frustrating for those of us at newspapers who know there are a lot more politics and technical integration issues that go into website design than meet the eye. This week, though, premium WordPress theme developers at WooThemes launched Currents, a WordPress news theme based almost exactly of Rutledge’s initial design. Worth checking out.
This week marks my fifth month at The Seattle Times, a perfect time for an update about what I’ve been up to. Almost since the minute I walked in the door, Eric Ulken has had me working on an unprecedented project for our newsroom — a WordPress blog.
So here I bring you, The Today File. We soft launched the blog two weeks ago and are now regularly linking to it from the homepage. The slideshow below is the presentation I gave to editors and reporters.
Making Your News Budget Public: How And Why – I feel like I’ve been talking about open news for years and years. Back then, I referred to it as “making your editorial calendar public,” but now that I’m an old fart in a newsroom, I say “open your news budget.” Same diff. My latest post at 10,000 Words outlines examples of a few news orgs who are actually doing it – finally. Some use Facebook, others use Twitter, some are writing straight-up blog posts and others are using Google Spreadsheets. More later today on how The Seattle Times is approaching this concept.
Tools come and go. We blog about them all the time as they crop up. We poke around, make accounts that quickly expire. We wait for platforms to fall out of beta, but forget about them by the time they go public. We claim that some tools are the “future of [fill in the blank]” or the next “[social media tool A] meets [social media tool B].” So how do you decide which ones are worth your newsroom’s time? These are a few of my thought processes. Continue reading
Predicting the future of anything is tough, especially in online journalism and certainly when it comes to video. I remember a time when “multimedia” was everything at conferences and in j-school classrooms. Those days faded and were replaced with “social media.” Now it’s all about data and applications.
My point is that discussion about the “future” of online video has really faded into the background in forward-thinking journalism circles. I certainly don’t know what that future looks like, but as both a consumer and producer, I can make a few guesses based on my personal expectations. Continue reading
This morning I ventured into the Seattle Times “press room,” which I expected to be a room for press conferences. But, nope. It was the other kind of press room, where they actually printed the paper years ago. The whole experience was like entering a time capsule back to 1994. Everything was untouched, as though everyone got up and left, never to look back.
There was still ink in the canisters and open log books with pens sitting atop. There were even coats and gloves in the lockers. An eerie place.
It’s so strange that an entire floor of a building with levels of heavy machinery and dozens of workers was required to publish a piece of content, and today all I have to do is click a pretty blue button.
He was always proud to say that his Cal Poly class ring said both “BS” and “’69″ — and he wasn’t afraid to make an inappropriate joke about it in front of 60 parents at graduation.
October 2006. George talks to Granite Hills High School journalism students about the Mustang Daily, Cal Poly's student newspaper.
George Ramos was never afraid to show his true colors — even in what should have been a very official, professional role as Department Chair of the Cal Poly journalism department. He was a riot. He was sometimes inappropriate. He cursed a lot. But he knew his shit, and he knew it well.
It’s funny, maybe ironic, that I’m sitting down to write a blog post about the death of George Ramos — the very man who taught me how to write obituaries.
But this post isn’t so much an obituary as it is an ode to all George Ramos did to shape me into the person I am today. It’s an ode that I think will resonate with those students who knew him as a professor and editor. So, let’s start at the beginning. Continue reading
And in an act of irony, I’m duplicating my efforts and re-posting this on my personal blog. I, unlike the AP, though, am inline linking to the original source.
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If anything, the AP’s decision to start linking to original sources is a hindrance. Because now, in addition to news outlets everywhere reproducing the same exact stories, they will all include unlinked bit.ly URLs.
Trust me, I’m all for hyperlinking. It’s the fabric of the web, what makes the web functional, and I think more newspapers should be doing it — and more often. But what we have here is a technology problem and an ideology problem. I’m sure if the AP could write through stories using HTML (and, of course, have that HTML stripped once it hits the print CMS), they would do it. Or at least I hope they would. But their solution of including bit.ly links — in parentheticals — isn’t the way to credit newspapers or drive traffic. Continue reading
If your website’s full of assholes, it’s your fault. Anil Dash is spot on. Part of maintaining a news website is maintaining community and having high standards. He outlines five steps every website should take to keep their community in order. Because whether we like it or not, quality of our comments reflects on how our organizations are perceived, and the quality of comments that will come up moving forward.
My life as an undocumented immigrant. I finally had a chance to read this in full. It’s the first-hand account of a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist who has worked at The Washington Post, HuffPo, etc., who has taken extreme to keep his illegal status a secret, all the while reporting on the truth for high-profile publications. It hits a chord with me because so many of my Filipino family members came here, including my father, just about 25 years ago. Read it. And read WaPo’s response about why they didn’t publish it.