Five-year plans are cute

I was sorting through one of my anti-minimalist memento boxes the other day and came across a mind map of an old five-year plan. A wave of nostalgia came over me and I was transported back to myself at that stage. It really is remarkable how paths change. At that time I was preparing for a career in the life sciences and was aiming to do a PhD in genetics, immunology or molecular biology. (I ended up completing my undergraduate degree in biotechnology and microbiology before being allured to the broader business worlds and leaving research be.) I was also thinking about investing in property, something which I’ve put on hold for now. And it’s humorously interesting to see the opening of the Australian Synchrotron factored into my life!

Nowadays, I don’t make five-year plans. Even two-year plans for that matter. I have a rough idea of of where I’d like to be, and prefer to navigate opportunities and choices as they arise. I am yet to decipher if this is indicative of the pace and structure of society today, or merely representative of my life stage. Financial planning is obviously an important activity, but career planning? If the average length of time a person spends at one employer is on a steady decline, do we need to adopt a more agile approach? Will leave that thought with you…

The future of publishing in the digital age

I though it might be of interest to crosspost an event review of a panel I was on about the future of publishing in the digital age. The panel formed part of the November meeting of the Society of Editors (Victoria) and the review was written by the talented Ben Hourigan. You can find out more about Ben on his blog here. If you work with words or content of any kind – it’s well worth the read.

Society of Editors members and friends gathered in larger than-usual numbers for November’s dinner meeting on the pressing topic of digital publishing. With web, mobile applications and ebooks accounting for the fastest-growing (indeed, perhaps the only growing) portion of the publishing industry, such a show of interest was understandable. To comment on the future of publishing in the digital age, the society called on industry leaders Dr Susan Hawthorne, publisher and co-founder of Spinifex Press, which has published ebooks since 2006; Jane Nethercote, senior digital editor at Lonely Planet; and Kate Kendall [considering you're here, you don't need my bio]. Freelance writer and Wheeler Centre online content manager George Dunford acted as moderator.

Discussion opened with the question of what form ‘the new book’ will take. All three panellists agreed that the book in future would come in a multiplicity of forms. Hawthorne focused on the range of current ebook formats, as well as the almost certain emergence of new ones. Informed by Lonely Planet’s involvement with web and mobile app publishing, Nethercote emphasised multimedia and interactivity as well as the portability that digital media can offer when compared to print guidebooks. Kendall posed the idea that content, rather than the medium, would bethe focus, with stories now being dispersed socially and through a range of channels.

Considering the way technology changes writing, editing and publishing, Hawthorne noted that something new has happened every year since 1992 which affected editorial, accounting and every other area of Spinifex’s business. Kendall and Nethercoteboth talked about the increased audience feedback available in digital publishing, where books can start as blogs, and analytics allows publishers to see which news articles people read (or don’t), and which ones they like and dislike. Yet anxiety goes along with possibility in the new era, which has seen newspapers in particular have their business models massively disrupted. Nethercote spoke of her experience at Crikey, which sees a tussle between the simultaneous needs of creating more pageviews for advertising impressions and gathering revenue from subscribers,a process which limits readership by excluding non-paying potential viewers.

This discussion also raised the phenomenon of getting to know people first as social-media avatars rather than by their physical presence or even their actual face, which resurfaced later in Kendall’s observation that personas are newly forceful in social media, and that fictional characters can now emerge as profiles, not just within the frame of previous storytelling media. (This writer was stunned to meet Kendall for the first time and realise she knew him mainly as the Auryn image he uses for his Twitter profile pic.)

Another change to the business of publishing is the increasing importance of the ‘long tail’, where the huge quantity of special interest content for niche audiences collectively rivals the commercial and cultural significance of the ‘fat head’, composed of the top-selling, most-talked-about material. Ebooks never go out of print, Hawthorne noted, and with the internet able to expose books of less-than-mainstream interest where retail outlets might not, the first books Spinifex ever published still have life in the ‘long tail’.

Conversation then splintered into diverse topics, including the imperative for travel guidebooks to be updated more frequently as the internet changes audiences’ ideas of timeliness; to the possibility and ethics of crowdsourcing content; and the difficulty of typesetting poetry in ebook formats that offer limited formatting options.

Speakers converged again on the changing nature of reading, and the place of traditional, printed ‘p-books’ within it. Kendall commented that it’s a hipster trait to like what most people don’t, so that if ebooks ever overtake printed books, reading on dead trees will become cool again. In spite of her hyper engagement with digital media, Kendall observed that reading books is actually the last thing she does on her iPad.

In contrast, Hawthorne told how one of her first iPad experiences was to download and read free Virginia Woolf novels. Dunford drew Nethercote out on the issue of her attention span, which she admitted had become segmented, before wondering what would happen with the next generation – will children who grew up on Facebook and Twitter have any connection to the p-book? Kendall discussed how the fragmentation of attention that comes with having 20 browser tabs open at once creates a greater need for depth – which printed books can offer – as a balance to hyperactive and multitasking styles of attention.

The first question from the audience echoed this last concern: will great, deep, fabulous novels still be written? Contrary to the common fear that future changes will destroy what has been of most value in our existing culture, the panellists were optimistic. Hawthorne was confident that such novels will still be written, though it may take 50 to 100 years before they attain the entrenched classic status of A Tale of Two Cities. Nethercote believed that the internet has actually enriched writing by exposing more people to the best available: a reader anywhere with an internet connection is as or more likely to awake (or procrastinate) to the latest gems from the New Yorker and Slate as to their local paper. Kendall reinforced this observation by pointing out that social recommendations also act to bring outstanding content to light.

Questions from the audience ranged across parallels to the musicindustry, the dangers of DRM-facilitated censorship, the importance of meta data in ebooks and readability in online typography. A recurring theme cutting across several questions regarded the editor’s place in the new publishing landscape. Hawthorne’s responses pointed out that readers – who may argue books are too expensive – often misunderstand the cost structure of book production, and how it has changed. With minimum print runs being smaller than ever, and ebook production and distribution costs being minimal, editorial costs are now a much greater share of the total. In this scenario, further cost reductions would threaten editorial standards

Responses to some of the final questions included positive notes on how editors should prepare themselves to work in the digital arena. Kendall listed an overwhelming array of favourable skills, knowledge and experience: of file formats, HTML and CSS; and in web design, SEO (search engine optimisation), content strategy, and producing content to a budget. How to learn it all?

Nethercote advised editors to start a blog so they can experimentand learn on their own how to ferret out those display errors that are unique to the web. Hawthorne recommended saying ‘yes’when people ask if you can do or even try to do something – you can do all the seminars you like, but until you learn hands on, you don’t know how something works. As daunting as a digital future can seem even for those at the bleeding edge of innovation, where change occurs the fastest, knowing that the spirit of play and daring will serve us well does not frighten: it inspires.

Would love to hear your thoughts and ideas on the future of the publishing landscape.

Social recruitment practices

I was recently quoted in the print and online versions of The Age and SMH on social media and recruitment. The article sprouted much conversation after its release – including a healthy debate on my Facebook status after I shared the link.

I’ve included an excerpt of the article below – would love to hear your thoughts.

In an age of oversharing online and with a third of the Australian population on Facebook, many recruiters and companies cannot resist the temptation to screen potential candidates via social media.

In the US, employers have taken their screening one step further, with reports employers have asked job candidates to log in to their Facebook page during the interview.

Employers were interested in looking beyond a person’s resume, said Kate Kendall, who specialises in recruitment via social media.

”You can’t rely solely on your CV any more,” Ms Kendall said.

”Companies are more interested in a holistic view of who they are hiring. You can’t really try and hide.”

Ms Kendall said she did a Google search on a strong candidate for an IT position and discovered a Twitter reference to him smoking marijuana.

”While he still got the job, that’s not something he’d actively put on a cover letter or resume,” Ms Kendall said.

The rest of the piece continues here:

http://www.theage.com.au/technology/technology-news/job-hunters-hired-and-rejected-by-the-facebook-20110101-19cmd.html

Which are you?

This is an oldie but goodie that’s from the viral rounds in early 2010. It’s the pinnacle of Venn diagram goodness: a demonstration of the difference between nerds, geeks, dorks and dweebs!

Goodbye to nuclear

Full infographic here: http://awesome.good.is/transparency/web/1101/marriage/flat.html

One-week silent Twitter retreat

 

A couple of months ago, I took a virtual vow of silence on Twitter. You can see the gap from the 4th until the 11th of November on my account here. It wasn’t a dare, bet or other shenanigan from anyone else – I simply wanted to experiment and see what happened. I’m calling it a silent retreat as the desire was to escape the noise, deeply listen to myself and develop my thoughts. It went really quick and was, unsurprisingly, a rather productive time offline. I came to a few conclusions, which I’ve listed below – hopefully they’re of interest:

  • No one verbally stated a notice that I wasn’t present. (Perhaps I should take that as a sign to stop tweeting altogether!) I think it’s representative of the style of user I am – I tweet, on average, less than five times per day and don’t use it as my conversation platform (like IM or Skype etc.). Therefore, perhaps no one was used to or expecting to talk me. After all, you need to include yourself in the conversation to be a part of it. And, obviously the more you put out there – the more you will get back.
  • Social media creates an over-compulsion for people to share an extraordinary amount about their lives with the world and their networks. When something happens (after all, Twitter asks: “What’s happening?), my thought process was often: “How can I share this moment?”. I found taking the break meant this simplified and became:  ”How can I be in this moment?”. When we live so openly and publicly – it’s rare to enjoy a special moment and then leave it uniquely yours. I like the idea of naming such moments ‘secret experiences’ and am going to actively try to have at least one a week. For instance, one evening I ran along the beach and witnessed the most spectacular marbled sunset. I felt the urge to immediately twitpic or Instagram the photo but resisted. Instead I sat down on a nearby bench, admired it for 20 minutes and reflected. I then took a picture and text messaged it to a couple of loved ones. As a result, I was being more discerning as to where and to whom I directed my time and attention.
  • I was at an event recently with many of Melbourne’s online community and something struck me as odd – the atmosphere was rather flat. People were sharing polite niceties to each other and were enjoying themselves well enough, but there seemed a lack of enthusiasm, excitement and well, presentness I’d grown accustomed too. The more we share, and thus read, about each other’s lives – the more the mystery is dampened. Is there a presumption that we already know how one another has been feeling or what they’ve been doing because we’ve read a couple of tweets about it? How do we sustain our curiosity? I believe limiting the amount we share or read on Twitter, will result in a refreshment of our interest towards offline conversation with those we communicate to regularly on the platform.
  • Like many, I use Twitter as a form of creative expression. When I have something to say or feel something strongly, it is very satisfying to have access to an ‘audience’ at my fingertips – a community that is willing or ready to listen and exchange thoughts and ideas with. I’ve been very appreciative of this since the early days of Twitter – the interconnectedness of like-minded souls. However, undergoing a silent retreat meant instead of diluting my creative expression through short bursts in 140 characters, I developed the urge to return to long-form. After suffering block (post to come) for a good part of 2010 – I wanted to write again. I wanted to express myself fully – to explore and communicate depth.
  • I like the sentiment: “Only the one who is still can hear “. When you step back from Twitter, you could perceive a lot of what’s said as noise: intersecting monologues, blatant personal and affiliate promotion, psychotic musings, subconscious mundane, hyperactive outcries, idea regurgitation, link oversharing and so forth. Don’t get me wrong, I am both a culprit and an advocate of the former at times. It’s just good to be mindful of where your attention is and be appreciative of context.

All in all, I enjoyed the switching off time and was pleased with myself for exhibiting control relatively easily. Now I often take breaks from Twitter – and largely, I’m not even aware of when I tweeted last. I’m experimenting with time, involvement and balance in my approach, and gasp, have been scheduling most of my insight-focused and link updates thanks to TweetDeck.

I’d like to finish with something applicable I wrote on the platform in question in ’09:

“Manage the technology to make processing the interaction easier – don’t manage the interaction to make processing the technology easier.”

Over and out,

Kate

This is smart

LinkedIn recently sent me this smart piece of email marketing. A few people I chatted to in the last week also mentioned it so I thought I’d scrapbook it here.

Simplicity: tick. People: tick. Curiosity: tick. Consumable: tick. Timely: tick. Clickable: tick.

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