Authorship Denial and The Collection Box

In reality, organizations still had some enormous advantages. Organizations are sustainable; they outlive the vagaries of human attention. Some individuals flourished in the newly democratic blogosphere. But over time, people got bored, got new jobs, found new interests, or otherwise reached the limits of what people-driven, individual-driven publishing could accomplish for them. The political blogosphere — the cacophony of individual voices on both left and right circa, say, 2004 — evolved toward institutions, toward Politico and TPM and The Blaze and HuffPo and the like.

Personal publishing is like voting. In theory, it’s the very definition of empowerment. In reality, it’s an excellent way for your personal shout to be cancelled out by someone else’s shout.

From here.

This is actually from a piece about Medium, a new blogging/social site/tool that’s interesting me, even if I’m not sure what I’ll end up doing with it should I get an invite to the beta. Here’s how Medium describes itself:

Medium is designed to allow people to choose the level of contribution they prefer. We know that most people, most of the time, will simply read and view content, which is fine. If they choose, they can click to indicate whether they think something is good, giving feedback to the creator and increasing the likelihood others will see it.

Posting on Medium (not yet open to everyone) is elegant and easy, and you can do so without the burden of becoming a blogger or worrying about developing an audience. All posts are organized into “collections,” which are defined by a theme and a template. (For example, this post is in the About Medium collection with a simple article template.)

As Joshua Benton, author of the quote at the top, says, there’s something weird/fascinating about this idea of curated posting:

What’s most radical about Medium is that it denies authorship.

Okay, maybe not denies authorship — people’s names are right next to their work, after all. But it degrades authorship, renders it secondary, knocks it off its pedestal… Degrading authorship is something the web already does spectacularly well. Work gets chopped and sliced and repurposed. That last animated GIF you saw — do you know who made it? Probably not. That infonugget you saw on Gawker or The Atlantic — did it start there? Probably not. Sites like Buzzfeed are built largely on reshuffling the Internet, rearranging work into streams and slideshows.

It’s been a while since auteur theory made sense as an explanation of the web. And you know what? We’re better for it. In a world of functionally infinite content, relying on authorship doesn’t scale. We need people to mash things up, to point things out, to sample, to remix.

I both agree and disagree with that last part, but that tension is, in large part, what makes Medium so interesting to me. Is this where the idea of group quality as differentiator comes into its own?

“I Ended Up Having A Minor Nervous Breakdown From The Schedule”

I didn’t have any help for a long time, so I was doing 20-30 posts a day trying to keep up. I was so stressed my body was pretty much perpetually contorted in pain, making it nearly impossible to sleep. I put on about 30 pounds from shoveling in Chinese delivery at my desk. I ended up having a minor nervous breakdown from the schedule and what seemed like a lack of a future.

The series of interviews with Gizmodo writers and editors from the past decade to celebrate the site’s 10th anniversary is interesting – and, with people talking about nervous breakdowns or having “a complicated relationship” with the site –  although I’m not sure if it’s supposed to come from some kind of place of “Look what we used to be like, but we’re not like that anymore!” or not. I wonder if io9 will do one for their tenth anniversary (I’ve just realized io9 is five in January. Holy crap)?

Food For My Thought

An analytics product such as Chartbeat produces reams of data: pageviews, unique users, and more. News organizations reliant on advertising or user subscriptions must pay attention to these numbers because they’re tied to revenue — but it’s less clear how they might be relevant editorially.

Consider pageviews. That single number is a combination of many causes and effects: promotional success, headline clickability, viral spread, audience demand for the information, and finally, the number of people who might be slightly better informed after viewing a story. Each of these components might be used to make better editorial choices — such as increasing promotion of an important story, choosing what to report on next, or evaluating whether a story really changed anything. But it can be hard to disentangle the factors. The number of times a story is viewed is a complex, mixed signal.

It’s also possible to try to get at impact through “engagement” metrics, perhaps derived from social media data such as the number of times a story is shared. Josh Stearns has a good summary of recent reports on measuring engagement. But though it’s certainly related, engagement isn’t the same as impact. Again, the question comes down to: Why would we want to see this number increase? What would it say about the ultimate effects of your journalism on the world?

From here.

Measuring metrics always feels like the enemy to me, personally. By which I mean, I hate that it’s not enough for something to be “good,” but that it has to be “sticky” as well; I really hate that, for so many sites, generating pageviews would be preferable to being of high quality if it came to some kind of DeathBowl-esque showdown. The Game is The Game, etc.

It’s A Bronze! A Bronze, I Tells Ya!

And then there was the point, this weekend, when my Bourne Legacy article for Time’s Entertainment blog went broad, becoming the third-most viewed article on all of Time.com. I am sure this is because it was suddenly linked somewhere – I mean, it was four days old when this happened, and it didn’t seem to have massive purchase immediately? – but, no matter what, this was surprising and another sign that I have no idea how the Internet works.

Well, I Didn’t See That Coming

Sometimes, you think “Hey, I’m caught up on deadlines!” and look forward to your day. And those are the days when an editor will ask you to write a quick crash course in a ridiculously complicated lawsuit, and you spend hours researching and writing a thousand words on it. Seriously, this is like the length of one of my Time pieces.

On the plus side, I feel like it’s a reasonably good piece. On the minus side, now I still have work to do. Thanks, Friday.

Meanwhile…

And, of course, how remiss would I be to not link this week’s piece I’ve cooked up for Time’s Entertainment blog? That would be here, as I try and work out whether or not the terrible new Bourne Legacy movie is about to usher in an age of blockbuster movies where story isn’t even a consideration.

Yes, I disliked Bourne Legacy that much. Really.

Not My Own Words

TIME accepts Fareed’s apology, but what he did violates our own standards for our columnists, which is that their work must not only be factual but original; their views must not only be their own but their words as well. As a result, we are suspending Fareed’s column for a month, pending further review.

What the news of Fareed Zakaria’s suspension for plagiarism brings up for me – As well as the basic “Why would you do that, do you really think you wouldn’t get caught, you idiot?” thing, because, hi, it’s the Internet – is the larger question about how much working off of firsthand reports counts as plagiarism. As ridiculous as it may sound, that’s something I find myself worrying about quite a bit, especially for things like the Comics Alliance stories I do, which (unlike the Newsarama blog posts) are attempts at straight-forward, no-editorializing, fast (ie, short) pieces that are often just rewriting press releases or announcements. I always try and offer something beyond simply “And then they said this and then this,” even if it’s just trying to draw connections between two pieces of information not necessarily obvious in the source, but, yeah. Man. I probably accidentally plagiarize more than I’m either aware of, or would want to.

No Time, No Time At All (Special Time Edition)

It’s definitely one of those days that has definitely gotten away from me, and so instead of my usual rambunctiousness in linking to the Time piece of the week, I’ll just say that I didn’t expect to write this and come away from the experience in favor of NBC editing the hell out of its Olympics coverage, but I did. There’s more for me to work out about what the future of factual television programming is in the mental aftermath of all of this, but that’ll have to wait for another day…

Just Say No

It’s something that John Amato, host of the political blog Crooks and Liars, knows all too well. Mr. Amato rarely steps away from his site for any significant amount of time, although he finds updating the page multiple times a day exhausting. “You become your blog,” says Mr. Amato, whose site gets an average of 150,000 hits a day. “It’s John Amato. They’re used to John Amato.”

Some bloggers thrive on the manic pace. Getaways for Jim Romenesko, host of the popular media blog bearing his name, consist of a Friday afternoon drive every month or so from his home in the Chicago suburbs to visit friends in Milwaukee. The 85-mile trip should last around 90 minutes. For Mr. Romenesko, it takes nearly four hours — because he stops at eight different Starbucks on the way to update his site.

The longest Mr. Romenesko has refrained from posting on his site, which gets about 70,000 hits a day, was for one week three years ago on the insistence of site owner, the Poynter Institute. He hasn’t taken a vacation in seven years. “The column’s called Romenesko,” he says. “I just feel it should be Romenesko” who writes it.

While it may seem like a chore to outsiders, many bloggers enjoy the compulsion. Mark Lisanti, who runs the entertainment gossip blog Defamer, is much like Mr. Romenesko in his no-vacation tendencies. Although he gets three weeks off each year from Gawker Media, which owns the site, he rarely takes a day. Not because he can’t, he just doesn’t want to. “My plan is to die face down on the desk in the middle of a post,” Mr. Lisanti jokes.

Jeff Jarvis, author of the political blog BuzzMachine, knows the feeling. He has always posted during his annual vacation to Skytop Lodge in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. When the resort had only an expensive Internet connection, he paid the hefty fee to keep his blog current. His son, Jake, now 14 years old, paid for half of the connection costs so he could keep up his technology blog, Wire Catcher.

Mr. Jarvis says he can count the number of days he’s spent away from his blog on one hand. On the occasional break — for a day or less — he opts to leave his blog “dark,” or untouched, rather than have someone fill in for him. “It’s just my space,” he says.

From here. Related: Kate and I recently had the realization that we haven’t had a “take some time off and go somewhere” vacation for over a year, and on the weekend trip we’re planning on taking to change that, we’re both going to take our laptops to keep up with deadlines and everything that has to be done. For me, it’s partly the fear of saying no to things and then finding out that they’d never be offered to me again; so many years as a freelancer, and I still have that panic. It’s ridiculous.