Absurd content strategies, Volume one
Some business strategies defy understanding. But when they come from the content industry, which still seems to be dominated by flat earthers, it’s easier to see why come companies behave as they do.
Even with that caveat, there are players out there with some very strange ideas. For example, why would financial news agency Bloomberg not allow Flipboard users the option of including its news content in their publications?
Think about it: we’re not talking here about what some in the arts and entertainment industry mistakenly insist on calling “content theft”, because Flipboard magazines only ever contain an image, at most, and a headline. To get to the content, a click is required, which as a rule takes the reader to the publication of origin. On my personal blog, Flipboard is a steady referrer of traffic: obviously not at the level of sites such as Google, Facebook, Twitter, or Feedly, but nevertheless at a respectable level.
What bizarre mental processes led the people at Bloomberg to refuse access to something as fundamental for viral communication as a headline and an image? What does the company really think it is going to lose in return for providing Flipboard users, who will, after all, continue using Bloomberg’s services, the possibility of placing news items they have read in their micro-magazines?
These are strategies that only make sense to an analogical mind. In my activity as a content generator, choosing an illustration and trying to find an appealing headline have become key aspects that can decide the success or failure of a posting. And this is my case, where the risk I might face if a story doesn’t get a lot of traffic is minimal, because my P&L isn’t at stake.
Needless to say, anything that can help increase the circulation of my content is looked after very carefully: I want to be in as many places as possible. I am delighted if the headline and the illustration that I have used appear on hundreds of tweets and retweets, or are shared and get plenty of Likes on Facebook, or receive a large number of +1 on Google+, or pinned in many Pinterest boards, shared on Linkedin, or placed in many Flipboard magazines.
And of course I am very happy for others to read my content on sites other than my own: I understand that whoever reads me on Feedly, their email, or on a page that has copied what I write in its entirety has my name either at the bottom of the page or just a click away: it all improves many aspects of my business. I cannot even begin to imagine saying to one of my users something along the lines of, “No, there is no way that I am going to allow you to share my content on some site that you are sharing.” It would just be too absurd.
In all honesty, I find it harder and harder to understand the supposed problems dogging those who say they live to create content. I cannot imagine what possesses writers such as Arturo Pérez Reverte (link in Spanish), whom I sincerely admire, to write an article insulting people who download his work, accusing them of theft, when the alleged economic damage he suffers is, by his own admission, less than 10% of what he earns per book. By doing so, he is already accepting that his publishers retain 90 percent of the final price of his books. Does he really think that his work is only worth 10% and that his publishers provide 90% of what the customer pays for? Because if he does, then he should really find another job.
If he believes that his business would not exist without a publisher who keeps 90% of what the customer pays to read his excellent novels, if he really believes that his success is 90% based on factors such as distribution, the quality and design of his covers, or the weight of the paper the books are printed on, then he must have a very low opinion of himself. Instead of taking on the publishing industry for robbing him, he writes an article attacking those who download his books. What is this, some sort of Stockholm syndrome?
In other words, who is really committing theft? The people who download a book, or those who keep nine out of every 10 euros on the price of said book in return for printing it and sending it to a bookshop? However, if you are interested in as many people as possible reading your work by altering the margins in the value chain associated with what you produce, then that’s a conversation I will happily take part in. And don’t just take my word for it: there are plenty of writers out there with more knowledge of the subject than me who agree.
If you make a living from creating content, anything that reduces the distance between you and your audience should be good for you. If you can’t see this, then I’m sorry, but you’re just plain wrong. And if, as well as being wrong, you go to the trouble of making yourself unpopular by shouting it from the rooftops and taking out lawsuits, insulting your potential customers, as well as their intelligence, then so much the worse.
The long and the short of it is that things are not quite so simple. But what is simple to understand is which factors you can control and which factors you cannot. Bloomberg can do what it likes, but it is not going to prevent people from sharing its content. Furthermore, it should understand that it can benefit from this, and do all within its means to help its business.
The same applies to writers who publish insulting newspaper columns or whose publishers try to pressure the government to change the law: they will not be able to stop people sharing their work. Instead they must learn that if they want to continue making a living from selling their ideas they need to change direction and try to help disseminate their work, thereby reducing the incentive to access it by irregular means. This means seeing each download as yet another failure to meet demand, and act to accommodate that demand. Obviously, nobody can ever fully satisfy demand, but it is certainly possible to reach more readers, and with a healthier and more sustainable margin, while at the same time establishing a far better relationship with the people who really matter.
(En español, aquí)
