You know me, the President

I live in the future and I am the President / Prime Minister / CEO / Trustee / Mother / Father / Teacher / Religious or Community leader / person held ultimately responsible.

I am the guide, the role model, the leader, the holder of what is right and what should be.

I am, like you now are, in the public eye.

You can find photos of me, playing with friends, making rude gestures, drunk, sad, alone, with friends, high, doing things I shouldn’t be, wearing preposterous clothes.

Photos of me as a kid, as a teen, as young adult – it’s all there. First day at school, first day in a job, graduating from a college, first love, first tattoo / make-up / rebellious hair cut.

You can find words I wrote about streets, towns, cities, people, groups of people, the disadvantaged, ‘foreigners’ – disparaging, insulting, things written from passing trains, things written in bad moods, happy nothings, ‘what I had for breakfast’-isms, throwaway remarks preserved for ever more.

Reviews I wrote, fumbling exploratory blog posts I crafted, illustrations sketched, ideas half-developed.

Video upon video – built up over time like layers of soil and rock. Learning to walk, learning to speak, learning to ride a bike, learning to live. Hundreds, more like thousands of videos of amateur messy video of me, back then.

There are the streams of music I listened to, web pages I bookmarked, photos I shared, articles I commented on. Hundreds of thousands of emails. Video game scores, pseudonyms, handles, avatars and other identities.

It’s all there.

This is me, the President. You know me. So what is life like now?

The future-now of Publishing and Music

I have an innate love for the Publishing business. It’s a family thing and runs deep.

My mum was an editor and published writer, my uncle is a hugely talented professional illustrator, my Dad’s nickname – we found out through a school friend who had a part-time job at the local library in  Hove – was ‘Mr Library Man’ for all the yellow card tabs he’d bring in every week, ordering more and more books in 🙂

And so it continues: my sister works in publishing, so does my cousin.

But my love of publishing was never really to do with all that ‘big publishing’ thing. It was more the fact that I was able to create whole worlds of my own, sat on my own at home.

I used to write stuff at home, stuff for Dungeons and Dragons that was mainly just for me, a highly profitable, highly inappropriate every-so-often newsletter for my Air Training Cadets ‘squadron’.

And the miracle was hitting PRINT and seeing my world coming to life – leaving the old Apple Mac and entering the real world. It’s that paper thing, that tangible thing, that same moment when you get your first business cards done, or see your website go live. Freedom! Self-expression!! BOOM.

For those kind of reasons I’m really really gripped by how publishing is evolving at the moment, right before our very eyes.

Industries are supposed to evolve over years – like glaciers – but watching the Publishing, Music and Big Media businesses, it really feels like watching a timelapse video turned up to 11. The changes happening right here, right now. It’s not a distant future, but more like a future-now.

Of particular interest and excitement to me are:

  • The impact of Kindle and iPad on the book publishing world
  • The grasping for new business models in the music business

In the book publishing world I am fantastically excited by The Domino Project – its DNA a double-helix of Seth Godin the digital seer, and Amazon the gigantically successful ecommerce and digital content business.

If they can’t make a dent in the problem of how to really create value with content in a networked world, I’m not sure who can.

And this whole post was prompted by this short but very interesting Nieman Lab piece on how libertarian economist and published author Tyler Cowen has published his latest book as an ebook only at $4.

This is the pivotal comment, for me:

JB: If the ebook platform didn’t exist, what do you think you would have done with the book’s content? Chop it down to a magazine piece? Turn it into a series of blog posts? Inflate it up to 250-page hardcover length? Would it have found a useful life otherwise?

TC: No ebook format, no book. At least in this case. I may try the format again, of course. I don’t like to stretch ideas to excessive length and magazines often want everything to be driven by the anecdote, which doesn’t really fit here.

Here’s a guy in control of his destiny – multiply published in real books, with a very successful blog behind him, choosing a digital format because it suits his goals.

Not about desperation and survival, instead this is about picking and chosing, about having real options, and addressing the digital world as a true native, not a latecoming and awkward newbie.

In the music business I have less practical experience and knowledge, but through a friend who has been a successful artist in a top-selling band and who now manages a number of acts as a professional manager I’m starting to learn just how much needs to change in that world.

This friend is trying to create a new kind of organisation in music: cutting out major labels, managing and actually incubating the talent, bringing into their influence the relationship with the audience, testing and proving/disproving the 1000 true fans model, rejecting the 360 degree model, creating direct and warmer relationships with their fans, and trying to invent new sustainable business models. Cool challenge eh?!

If I was going to do a start up today, it would definitely be in the media ‘space’ – you have to call it a space when you’re talking startup lingo (as a friend said – what happens if you’re in the Space business, do you call it the space space?!!) – probably not music because I know the least, but certainly publishing or possibly TV (which I haven’t touched on because I don’t need to – see my colleague Anna’s fantastic Tellyflux blog on the future-now of TV).

Amazing times.

Thank you, TEDx Brighton

Thank you for a great day.

If the job of TED is to spread ideas worth spreading, and the job of TEDx events are to reach further into diverse networks and geographies and expose more talent and reveal more ideas worth spreading, then I think the first TEDx Brighton was very fucking good.

I’ve heard different people say different talks worked for them – the beauty of different tastes and the cross-pollination of new ideas from other worlds – but for me the talks which gave me the most were David Bramwell’s talk on Utopia, Dr Judith Good’s talk on Learning & Technology, George MacKerron’s talk on Mappiness and Sarah Angliss’ talk on music and machines.

There are some thorough overviews written up by participants there on the day:

And some excellent accompanying notes from fellow speakers Antony Mayfield and Sarah Angliss:

Isn’t great how people create such useful content eh, audience and speakers alike?

As a side note, it must be blooming hard to organise successful events.

Personally I never regret handing over good money for a great event and respect the job of organisers – so much prep, so much stress, people grumbling about wifi and coffee, speakers cancelling last minute, equipment suppliers forgetting to deliver the right kit.

So a peak of activity – one shot to get it right. And when it does – BOOOM! A high for everyone.

And then those magic unicorns that are fantastic events with no or a very low cost attached. Crazy cool. I’m thinking of Interesting, The Story. Stuff that good.

For me, TEDx Brighton was up there with these. And that was the first one – the prototype – and inevitably I imagine there will be things to roll into the next one, of which it sounds like there is already talk of…

So I’d like to say thank you – to Tom Bailey the producer and his team of volunteers, to the audience and other speakers, to the sponsors. The whole enchilada, Mother Nature and the UNIVERSE. Thank you.

And for me personally a massive thank you to my team – usually when I do speaking gigs, it’s a very solo experience from inception to delivery and the knackered journey home. There wasn’t a single person in our team who didn’t help with the TEDx talk – I did 3 practice run throughs (!) – yep, it was too important to wing it out without some proper PREPARATION! Loads of moral support and back up. It was cool to feel massively supported.

That event was and will continue to be great for Brighton. Thank you.

Tracking my internet addiction

The Christmas and New Year holiday was wonderfully restive and felt everlasting.

But one thing I didn’t do was disconnect from the social web (I usually do on hols – and am well ready to forgo the Twitters and the Facebooks :).

In fact, I borrowed the company’s iPad, and found myself spending mindless hours almost every evening after the kids went to bed, just cycling between Facebook, Twitter, my favourite mountain biking forum, my second favourite mountain bike forum and a few bikey ecommerce sites. I found that the iPad is the ultimate sofa device.

These were, I’m afraid, empty hours. 97% pointless. And I slowly became more conscious of how I was rotating between each site, searching for something new and alive to pique my interest.

Coming back to work was always going to be interesting and yesterday I felt totally disorientated. I also felt angry about my cravings to check to see the new on the web, so I started a little tracker.

Here it is so far:

So yesterday morning, as I started the important job of pulling my thoughts and then slides together for the Brighton TEDx in about 3 weeks time, every time I felt the physical urge to go check the internets for something new, I scribbled a tally on a post it.

The black ink is yesterday between 8 am and 11 am, and the red ink this morning between 8.30 am and 10 am.

The research I’ve read seems to vary about how distracting or what the time cost is of each distraction (that is, each distraction indulged in), but it seems to be something between 15 minutes to get back to the same level of concentration upto 45 minutes [1].

It’s really scary to me – I feel like I’m facing up to a habit that doesn’t serve me, the truth of something that controls me more than I control it.

Especially when I think about how much I want to get this talk right, which has been the sole task of these two morning slots – my most productive in a given working day.

In some small but real way, each scrawl feels like a bullet dodged, a computer virus snaffled, a cigarette or burger not consumed. There’s a superiority that comes with avoidance (little victories!).

But isn’t it addictive, this thing we do? I know the research is out there, but this is me, my attention, my life.

Further reading:

[1] http://www.pr2020.com/page/the-unplugged-experiment

The Four Hour Work Week, and all that other GTD / work/life hacking type stuff.

PS. I know my views on this are a little tradition, someone like the awesome Stowe Boyd might encourage the always-on-ness, and celebrate being an inforvore. I see truth in that too, but still feel the above – the two feel directly opposed, in tension.