I have been in digital since April 1995, when I left the sports department of The Washington Post newspaper to become sports editor of The Washington Post's "new media" company, adorably called Digital Ink. Since, I've spent more than 18 years trying push newsrooms to change: first to acknowledge digital at all, then to understand its importance and now to accelerate the transformation to our digital future. And, sometimes, I've run my mouth publicly about what I have perceived to be the too-slow pace of that transformation.
As a result, I get a lot of notes and calls from people in the journalism that either ask how to break down those mental walls or vent about the frustration of slamming their head into them.
It was the latter frustration that led a former colleague of mine to drop me a note a few weeks ago, and I thought it was a strong entry in the genre. Sure, a whole lot of people in journalism have made the transition or are well down the path. But many have still not. And some subset of that never will, most likely because of willful ignorance rather than over any real argument that the future of journalism lies anywhere else.
Anyway, this former colleague asked me whether it I thought the note was publishable. I thought it was. But, in the end, this person made the decision not to publish it, largely because of the fear of how it would be taken by the newsroom where they work. But I volunteered to publish it here, and that offer was accepted.
Note: This former colleague does not work at Digital First Media, which I assume is obvious from the phrase "former colleague" but should be stated anyway. And this person does not currently work at a company I have ever worked at.
Anyway, here it is...
Dear Legacy Print Editor,
First of all, understand that I am coming from a place of deep reverence and respect for the craft of journalism and our job as gatekeepersl of quality and editorial judgment.
But we have got issues.
I have respect for you, but you have none for me and the rest of the evolved journalists working with me to create the news organization of tomorrow -- who, by the way, range in age from 19 to 75 and beyond -- and who are placing our bets on adaptation and a future landscape that looks very different from our storied past.
What does the future look like?
That's the thing. We don't know exactly.
And how do we make money doing it? Again, not sure.
But I can tell you that the future isn't a print publication in which space is measured in finite inches and day-old news and declining subscribers. It isn't an online presence that merely republishes the print experience with a perfunctory area for adding comments that are mostly ignored.
We may revere the writer with decades of traditional newsroom experience under his belt -- but readers don't if he remains inaccessible or at a remove.
Readers want valid, exciting content that motivates them and they don't care if it was written by Grizzled Columnist or Upstart Internet Commentator. The next generation of news consumers is capable of appreciating both. That's right -- they are discerning enough to sniff out quality. They are smart and will be able to distinguish our work from, say, TMZ. If we think they can't, we are going to lose. Again and again and again.
Readers are smart enough to know that not all writers and news organizations are created equal and that everyone with access to a keyboard and a wifi connection can give the appearance of "publishing." They can spot the difference. They are not, as some of us assume, idiots waiting for us to lead them to the path of the righteous.
We also, though, need to be shrewd enough to recognize that there are lessons to be gleaned from TMZ, Buzzfeed, Huffington Post and publications like the New Yorker and the NYT who are co-opting innovations -- and even emerging as innovators in their own right in the digital space.
Readers value a variety of voices and presentations. They may get as much knowledge and satisfaction out of a 10-item Buzzfeed listicle as they do out of an inverse triangle news article with a journalistic pedigree. And we can make sure that if we are delivering content in a 10-item list, they are 10 vetted, kick-ass, need-to-know items.
It may not be comfortable, but we need to adapt.
Here's why: We are dying.
Our industry is dying a slow and painful and very public death. And every time a round of layoffs decimates even a small part of our newsrooms, we die that much more.
But instead of embracing the change that could keep us relevant, large pockets of our industry scoff at adaptation -- thinking that the readers, and those journalists who "get" the necessity of finding a new way of moving forward, are idiots. That we don't get it. That we are "less than."
But the truth is that it is you who doesn't get it. You refuse to make changes that could save the job of that copy editor who was laid off. You refuse to connect with readers in new ways -- in social media -- or to engage in a dialogue with them. You refuse to even consider the fact that there is a way to embrace change while still maintaining the standards that we all agree are vital to the survival of our craft.
It is as if you are a car maker who refuses to consider aerodynamics or unleaded gasoline, assuming that the old way of doing things is the ONLY way of doing things. Or worse, as if you don't even drive yet but think you understand the future of the industry.
And, as we know, consumers will side with innovation. Exhibit A: the writing on the wall.
Let's work together to embrace an evolved future. What have we got to lose? A hell of a lot if you opt out.
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