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  • November 7, 2009

    Fan-sourcing filmmaker creativity: a counterpoint

    Paul Rankin: packing heatMy latest Rolling Stone story was on Genero.TV, a website that offers filmmakers the chance to come up with a video concept that may become a band’s official music video.

    After I interviewed some of the bands involved and the site’s founder, I sent the link to my filmmaker friend, Paul Rankin [pictured right].

    He didn’t take so kindly to the idea. Excerpt below:

    […] This means that fifteen other bands get a free music video, hand-picked from the entire selection of entries, which becomes a promotional tool (arguably a band’s most useful promotional tool) that they will then use to make money, none of which goes to the filmmakers, the ones who did all the work. That is to say, while your music video may be good enough to have the honour of Official Video bestowed upon it, it’s not good enough to warrant pay. There’s also every likelihood that the bands will then sell the music videos on iTunes, the revenue from which you’ll never see.

    Bend over, assume the position.

    His full rebuttal is here.

    While I asked the bands involved, and Genero.TV’s founder whether the concept was just a way for bands to save cash on video production – indeed, that was the central point of the story when I pitched it – I certainly had an “oh, shit” moment when I read Paul’s response.

    As a result, I feel like a shit reporter for not further investigating that angle. Reading back over the article now, it seems more promotional than investigative in nature.

    Lesson learned. I need to spend more time considering and seeking alternative viewpoints, rather than blindly chasing a desired outcome.

    2 Comments / Writing /

  • November 1, 2009

    How I Pitched ‘For The Record’

    The Music Network logoIn June 2009, The Music Network published my first commissioned article. It was the first in a five-part series called ‘For The Record’, a retrospective feature on the album format and whether it’s still relevant. Start with part one here.

    I recall spending a couple of hours on a May morning putting all of my thoughts and feelings on ‘the album’ down onto paper, and then transcribing it into a document and emailing it to the assistant editor. At the time, these articles (and the resultant commissions) were just about all I had going, so I threw myself at the opportunity completely.

    It’s funny and a bit embarrassing for me to look back over this pitch, as it’s quite childish, incoherent and – as I’ve since learned – the exact opposite of what most editors look for in story pitches: brevity and clarity.

    Below is how I initially pitched the article to the magazine for their ‘Digital View’ section (which later became ‘Digital & Media’ after their redesign).

    The Music Network – Death Of The Album pitch (this is a placeholder title, btw)

    This is a feature discussing the reduced importance that consumers place on the concept of the album, and how the music industry should largely adopt a new ‘organising principle’ in order to match consumer demand. I will be careful to qualify this by stating that release schedules should be re-examined on a per-artist basis, though, because the album still has some place; it’s just been marginalised.

    The articles will use a consistent, measured tone that injects humour and attitude, but forgoes condescension. I’ll strive for objectivity here, though this is a topic that I could easily rant about subjectively. ;)

    I envisage five parts, though it could go one less or more. This will become apparent once I start writing.

    Precis:

    I: A history of the album

    • Why does the album exist? Who imposed the 74-minute limitation?
    • Summarise the development of the format; Sony, Phillips, competing technologies, how it took a decade for the CD to supersede the LP
    • Album historically serves as the preferred way to contain profits and maintain both consumer interest and a release schedule. Containment and maintenance.
    • From LP to CD to digital; the medium has changed but the ‘organising principle‘ (the album – a term attributed to Gang Of Four’s Dave Allen) remains the same
    • The industry revolves around the album: release schedules, record deals, album reviews, pricing structure
    • Why is this a problem? Hint at changing consumer habits, and part II

    II: What’s changed?

    • Objection: “I still listen to albums!” So do I. Because it’s still the most prevalent manner of distributing music.
    • It is important to understand this point: albums are still sold, whether digital or physical, but the widened choice afforded to consumers has resulted in a decreased attention span.
    • To illustrate: here’s a regular album. It’s front-loaded with some great songs, the ones that you heard before you bought it. Then you get to the second half of the album and, more than likely, it’s not as good. Think about all those times you’ve tried really hard to enjoy later tracks on album just so that you claim to honestly love it all. It’s hard work; I’d argue it’s an unnecessarily big ask on the listener.
    • It’s a complaint as old as the album itself: “A few of these tracks are awesome, but the rest are a waste of time.” Hi, MGMT.
    • Define consumer; who is buying music in which format? Different trends for different demographics
    • Discuss ‘killer versus filler’: Bob Lefsetz quotes here
    • No band deserves all of your attention, and it’s selfish of them to expect that from you. No band claims to be the best band in the world, except The Hives. So why do they tack noticeably sub-par songs onto the end of otherwise riveting albums? Because record labels are tied to the concept. Lead into part III.

    III: What hasn’t changed?

    • The main point to reinforce here is the change in consumer (listener) habit. Technology and portability has severed our attachment to the album format. Provide anecdotal evidence of what the album (LP) used to represent; a social object that could only be played in the home, or at a dance hall.
    • Every notion you hold about albums – the great, the poor – are built upon a format created to streamline label profit
    • If our attention has splintered beyond the confines of the standard 12 tracks/45 minutes, why do new albums keep appearing on store shelves, both virtual and physical?
    • Quote iTunes facts here – single vs album sales
    • Point out the correlation between these facts; that is, a division between consumer habit and industry habit.
    • Visual analogy: picture listeners and labels as running on two parallel lines. While the latter ignores the changing habits of the former, the two shall never meet. Piracy and discontent will deepen the divide.
    • Major label profits have dived as a result of piracy, sure, but consider an alternative: that consumers are sick of spending $20 on a disc with only a couple of good songs. It’s easier to download the lot and listen to what you want, or to just pick and choose individual tracks.

    IV: What needs to change in order to better serve consumer interest?

    • Marketing structures and strategies (thanks Jade!). Label-signed artists who are locked into multi-album deals have it tough.
    • These multi-album deals perpetuate the ‘few strong songs, mostly average songs’ trend to which we’ve become accustomed. To which we’ve responded with ignorance, piracy or pick-and-choose song downloads.
    • What we need is increased quality control on the label’s part. Work with artists to allow them to discover the medium with which they’re most comfortable releasing music, and then work with them to realise these goals.
    • Gone are the days of slapping a ‘one-format-fits-all’ tag on all artists, with the end-goal of album after album. There may be artists who still want to do that, absolutely. But to portray the album as the only marker of recorded success? This is a fallacy has been disproven.
    • It is vital that adequate pricing structures and business models are adopted for a variety of releases – single song, small collection of songs (EPs), live performances – to ensure that artists can live comfortably off their earnings. So that they may continue to make music.
    • This is an aspect that is often forgotten among the frequent discussion surrounding ‘the music industry’. All too often, we forget that the industry is built on the creative talents of songwriters, musicians and performers whose music engages. Music is an inherently social creation that is only becoming more social, as fans connect online and artist revenue streams continue their shift from recording-based to performance-based.
    • Discuss alternative business models; hint at part V

    V: The future of a reduced reliance on the album as the organising principle

    • I imagine a steady stream of single tracks, with occasional EP and album releases. I think Bloc Party have done this recently?
    • Give examples of artists who have tried alternative release models + quotes
    • Give examples of artists who have successfully trialled new models. Avoid relying on big cases here (eg Radiohead, NIN); if this is to be believed, I’ll need to give more compelling examples than artist with millions-strong fanbases.
    • Reinforce why a reduced reliance on the album is not a bad thing. Our listening habits have changed, but we still feel an attachment to the album concept. Cognitive dissonance might be worth including here.. or that could just dilute my argument. Will see.
    • Reinforce the ‘digital’ aspect here, for this is The Digital View, damnit! Digital is the entire reason that the album has become a less pertinent format of music dissemination.
    • But – what of record stores, if a reduced reliance on albums (‘records’)? There’s a discussion for another column, one that’s not necessarily attached to this five-part album discussion.

    After the articles were approved – and I totally rejoiced, as this was the first time I’d written anything other than CD or live reviews for money – I ran the above pitch past my friend, David Carter, who lectures at the Queensland Conservatorium. His expertise on matters concerning the music industry are documented on his blog, Where To Now?

    David’s comments in (an appropriately academic) red.

    I: A history of the album

    • Why does the album exist? Who imposed the 74-minute limitation?
    • Summarise the development of the format; Sony, Phillips, competing technologies, how it took a decade for the CD to supersede the LP
    • Album historically serves as the preferred way to contain profits and maintain both consumer interest and a release schedule. Containment and maintenance. think you might be missing something here re production and distribution costs that need discussion up-front; what was the first album? why was the first album? these might be better ‘organising principles’ here – trace development of the album as a collection of singles to autonomous artwork – point out that the album-as-art had to do with innovative / creative use of the medium rather than an inherent element of the medium itself
    • From LP to CD to digital; the medium has changed but the ‘organising principle’ (the album – a term attributed to Gang Of Four’s Dave Allen) remains the same
    • The recorded music? industry revolves around the album: release schedules, record deals, album reviews, pricing structure ‘music’ industry has always included other revenue streams – side point but worth pointing out
    • Why is this a problem? Hint at changing consumer habits, and part II

    II: What’s changed?

    • Objection: “I still listen to albums!” So do I. Because it’s still the most prevalent manner of distributing music perhaps a more important objection – ‘I still want to sell albums’?
    • It is important to understand this point: albums are still sold, whether digital or physical, but the widened choice afforded to consumers has resulted in a decreased attention span not so sure about this – Your assertion that ‘widened choice’ has resulted in ‘shorter attention spans’ is problematic – I don’t think you can prove a causal relationship here and not sure if it’s really attention span you’re talking about or a lower tolerance for filler? I think you’re getting at changing methods of the consumption / reception of music thanks to advances in computing and telecommunication technologies and while this has resulted in wider access to certain types of content the key thing here for music listeners has been the ability to easily re-order and separate out albums. It’s not the ‘internet’ that has ‘killed’ the album but rather the ability for consumers to ‘roll their own’ albums. – one point I think you’re missing in terms of what’s changed is ‘technology’; particularly the iPod. It seems to be there in III but not explicit here? Another point to make is that online the cost of manufacturing and distribution approaches zero for both content creator and consumer and this has fundamentally changed the marketplace.
    • To illustrate: here’s a regular album. It’s front-loaded with some great songs, the ones that you heard before you bought it. Then you get to the second half of the album and, more than likely, it’s not as good. Think about all those times you’ve tried really hard to enjoy later tracks on album just so that you claim to honestly love it all. It’s hard work; I’d argue it’s an unnecessarily big ask on the listener.
    • It’s a complaint as old as the album itself: “A few of these tracks are awesome, but the rest are a waste of time.” Hi, MGMT. this has always been the case with pop music and why labels used to sell singles; need to think about / discuss why digital is different.
    • Define consumer; who is buying music in which format? Different trends for different demographics and also think about what / why they’re buying and what they end up doing with it. Maybe there’s an element of musical discovery in exploring ‘album tracks’ by Nick Drake or Dylan (for example) that grow your appreciation for their artistry; maybe you want the physical backup of a CD; if your iPod is your only music storage device what happens to those mp3’s you don’t want to listen to anymore?
    • Discuss ‘killer versus filler’: Bob Lefsetz quotes here
    • No band deserves all of your attention, and it’s selfish of them to expect that from you. No band claims to be the best band in the world, except The Hives. So why do they tack noticeably sub-par songs onto the end of otherwise riveting albums? Because record labels are tied to the concept. Lead into part III. or because they don’t think the tracks are sub-par; because they’ve bought into the notion that the format is art rather than product; because the drummer wrote the song and was complaining about not getting enough writing / royalty credits; etc. – there are a lot of reasons albums contain filler, some of which pertain to market expectations but not all. Don’t think you’ve made this point convincingly.

    III: What hasn’t changed?

    • The main point to reinforce here is the change in consumer (listener) habit. Technology and portability has severed our attachment to the album format. Provide anecdotal evidence of what the album (LP) used to represent; a social object that could only be played in the home, or at a dance hall. think you can provide physical evidence here in terms of sales from the iTunes music store – overwhelmingly consumers are buying singles;
    • Every notion you hold about albums – the great, the poor – are built upon a format created to streamline label profit and a format that still must make monetary sense to the labels – even online; why? discuss.
    • If our attention has splintered beyond the confines of the standard 12 tracks/45 minutes, why do new albums keep appearing on store shelves, both virtual and physical?
    • Quote iTunes facts here – single vs album sales
    • Point out the correlation between these facts; that is, a division between consumer habit and industry habit.
    • Visual analogy: picture listeners and labels as running on two parallel lines. While the latter ignores the changing habits of the former, the two shall never meet. Piracy and discontent will deepen the divide. suggest you need to discuss / take into account that albums and bands still make money off physical discs – at present people are still buying CD’s, despite all the rhetoric; perhaps not so much that the labels are running parrallel to consumer sentiment but that they haven’t viewed digital downloads as a fundamentally different product?
    • Major label profits have dived as a result of piracy not sure if you should concede this point – have they dived because of piracy or because of a format / consumption shift? , sure, but consider an alternative: that consumers are sick of spending $20 on a disc with only a couple of good songs. It’s easier to download the lot and listen to what you want, or to just pick and choose individual tracks this is an old argument that I don’t think you need to embroil yourself in – this isn’t about copyright and piracy it’s about how (if) recorded music can be marketed and monetised.

    IV: What needs to change in order to better serve consumer interest?

    • Marketing structures and strategies (thanks Jade!). Label-signed artists who are locked into multi-album deals have it tough.
    • These multi-album deals perpetuate the ‘few strong songs, mostly average songs’ trend why? ideally everyone involved wants an album worth of strong songs – what stops this happening? wonder if there’s something here to do with advances in technology / no development money allowing a lesser level of songwriter / composer access to an audience? to which we’ve become accustomed. To which we’ve responded with ignorance, piracy or pick-and-choose song downloads.
    • What we need is increased quality control on the label’s part. Work with artists to allow them to discover the medium with which they’re most comfortable releasing music, and then work with them to realise these goals.
    • Gone are the days of slapping a ‘one-format-fits-all’ tag on all artists, with the end-goal of album after album. There may be artists who still want to do that, absolutely. But to portray the album as the only marker of recorded success? This is a fallacy has been disproven. not sure this is what labels are doing though – again, they want to make the most money they can from a release in the context of a very unpredictable market; if they thought they could do this with singles they would; why haven’t they?
    • It is vital that adequate pricing structures and business models are adopted for a variety of releases – single song, small collection of songs (EPs), live performances – to ensure that artists can live comfortably off their earnings there’s a fallacy going around that artists used to live comfortably off their earnings from record sales – it’s not true – very few artists (particularly major label artists) made / make significant personal profit from album sales; the real money for artists is and has always been in royalties, touring and merchandising. There is such a small percentage of records that actually make anyone any money it’s ridiculous – why then have record companies and artists perpetuated such a seemingly flawed business model? So that they may continue to make music.
    • This is an aspect that is often forgotten among the frequent discussion surrounding ‘the music industry’. All too often, we forget that the industry is built on the creative talents of songwriters, musicians and performers whose music engages. Music is an inherently social creation that is only becoming more social, as fans connect online and artist revenue streams continue their shift from recording-based to performance-based think you need to address the differences between music as product vs music as service in here somewhere
    • Discuss alternative business models; hint at part V

    V: The future of a reduced reliance on the album as the organising principle think you might want to review / throw out some of this and incorporate whatever’s left into part IV – particularly artist examples. Don’t think there’s enough new ideas here to warrant a fifth part.

    • I imagine a steady stream of single tracks, with occasional EP and album releases. I think Bloc Party have done this recently?
    • Give examples of artists who have tried alternative release models + quotes
    • Give examples of artists who have successfully trialled new models. Avoid relying on big cases here (eg Radiohead, NIN); if this is to be believed, I’ll need to give more compelling examples than artist with millions-strong fanbases.
    • Reinforce why a reduced reliance on the album is not a bad thing. Our listening habits have changed, but we still feel an attachment to the album concept. Cognitive dissonance might be worth including here.. nah – be honest; too many people out there already saying ‘this is the future’. not enough willing to say ‘I’m unsure / conflicted / fascinated’ or that could just dilute my argument. Will see.
    • Reinforce the ‘digital’ aspect here, for this is The Digital View, damnit! Digital is the entire reason that the album has become a less pertinent format of music dissemination.
    • But – what of record stores, if a reduced reliance on albums (‘records’)? There’s a discussion for another column, one that’s not necessarily attached to this five-part album discussion.

    Read the published articles here: part one, part two, part three, part four and part five.

    Note how the latter half of the series totally deviated from the initial pitch, as – like David rightly pointed out – there weren’t enough new ideas to warrant needlessly dragging the feature out. So I decided to interview some musicians instead; always a reliable fallback for any stuck music journalist.

    No Comments / Writing /

  • September 13, 2009

    Thoughts On Big Sound 2009

    Studying hard, moments before showtimeSeptember 9-11, I attended Big Sound, my first music conference. I moderated a discussion panel called ‘Blogging, Twittering and Online Publishing: Tastemaking or Time-Wasting?‘, managed a showcase band, Hunz, and reported for The Music Network.

    What did Big Sound 2009 mean to me?

    It meant appearing in my first public speaking role since the occasional presentation throughout my tertiary education. On the day, it was my preparation and familiarity with the subject matter that saw 90 minutes of guided discussion pass without concern on my part. My notes from the panel are here.

    It meant representing an artist whose music I love, and actively inviting others to experience his art and understand his vision. While I’m still coming to terms with the latter, but it was perpetually thrilling to see Hunz describe himself to the unfamiliar, both in meetings and on stage. Their showcase performance was strong, and well-received by the crowd present, based on the feedback we received afterwards. [Photo from the show below]

    Throughout Big Sound, my personal goal was simply to introduce his music to new ears. That may be naive, but we agreed beforehand that there was little point in building up expectations. Whatever happens, happens, but there’s no doubt that their showcase was an overwhelmingly positive experience.

    It also meant becoming more comfortable in crowded social situations. This was networking in the truest form I’ve witnessed since a digital industry event called Interactive Minds, late last year. It was very much a case of rapid-fire socialising, smiling, shaking hands, and exchanging details. Yeah, some of it was superficial. But while the personal connections I made mightn’t all yield results in the short term, in sum, the networking was the most enjoyable element of the event.

    From my perspective, it was cool to have people introduce themselves to me after knowing who I am, which is the opposite to all of my music-related encounters in the past. The coolest example of this was Wally de Backer introducing himself the day after my panel. It took me like 5 seconds to realise that he was Gotye, and another 30 or so for Hans to make the connection to his identity – that is, a source of massive musical inspiration. But I wasn’t like ‘OMG WHAT TO DO?’, but more like ‘oh sweet, he’s keen for a chat’. Wally was there to showcase his other band, The Basics, who are self-managed.

    One of the biggest shifts in my mindset of late is that I’m beginning to accept that ‘famous’ people are just people. It’s something inherently known, but it’s still difficult to accept. Everyone knows the feeling of seeing a public figure in the flesh and being too scared to approach; more and more, I’m abandoning that mindset, and just going after it. Cases in point: approaching both The Dead Sea (whose showcase was one of my highlights) and Yves Klein Blue‘s Michael Tomlinson (who I’d interviewed for jmag the week before) at the Sounds Like Brisbane launch.

    In the Big Sound context, it’s more a case of recognising that these meeting opportunities are extremely limited, and discarding hesitation in the face of time constraints. Again, this is one of the aspects of the event I most enjoyed: the simple act of bringing together so many influential minds that have the ability to make shit happen is the main drawcard.

    Hunz: Bearded, big-mouthedI mean, the conference is nothing without its delegates. No shit, right? I’d read this beforehand and understood it at a basic level, but it really didn’t click for me until I was there among the masses that I realised – hey, any industry is built on the people who work within it. An event like Big Sound simply enables connections between people to happen at a more rapid rate.

    A few people I spoke to questioned why the openness and accessibility on display across the three days couldn’t exist for the other 362. As far as I can comprehend, it’s because shit wouldn’t get done if artists, labels, managers, and promoters kept the gates to their respective castles open at all times. Those few days of meeting and conversing are useful because of their scarcity. In an industry built upon the creation and commodification of a social object – music – it was enlightening and inspiring to meet so many dedicated to sharing with one another.

    I’ll cite Big Sound as the event that affixed a silencer to my pistol of industry skepticism. In an interview with Warner Music CEO and ARIA chairman Ed St John a fortnight ago, I related to him that my increasingly frequent conversations with the people who work within the industry has shifted my view of large companies – like major record labels – from faceless organisations, to groups of decision-making individuals. [Sidenote: read that interview on One Movement Word here]

    That might read like a basic statement to make, and a basic realisation to have. But after spending the best part of a decade – my formative adolescence – reading and participating in online forums where the loudest opinion is often taken as reality, I’m only just starting to unlearn. Nick and I call it ‘blogger’s mentality’, wherein an internal bias colours one’s worldview to the point where it interferes with learning and understanding.

    I’m not suggesting that I’m attempting to remove subjectivity from my observations, because you know as well as I that it’s fucking impossible. Instead, what I’m trying to do is approach every situation, every interaction with an open mind, while placing little value on preconceptions. It’s less naivety, than measured optimism. Lately, I’m of the mind that people – individuals – are inherently good, so I’ll treat them with that respect until proven otherwise.

    To return this realisation to the context of Big Sound, and the wider music industry: I have no time for stories of failed business deals and broken relationships. An individual’s history is less meaningful than how they present themselves in the moment.

    What I’m now aiming to do is assess people on their merits when we meet, rather than relying on markers of their past to colour my perceptions. To me, where you’ve been is less important than where you’re going. In a songwriting context, to wit: you’re only as good as your last song.

    [Thanks to Justin Edwards for the photographs]

    5 Comments / Writing /

  • September 6, 2009

    Neil Strauss, Addendum

    How I put myself in the position to spend 45 minutes with one of my favourite writers:

    1. Read The Game by Neil Strauss in 2007. Love it; re-read it several times. Buy a used copy from eBay and a new copy from a bookstore to lend to friends.
    2. Through Neil’s mailing list, receive information that Emergency, his new book, was due in March 2009.
    3. Email several people to find the Australian publisher of Emergency. (Answer: Text Publishing)
    4. Request a review copy of Emergency for FourThousand.
    5. Inadvertently receive two copies of Emergency from different publishers. (I’m still not sure how this happened.)
    6. Review Emergency for FourThousand.
    7. Send review link to Text Publishing to solidify that relationship.
    8. Through his mailing list, receive information of Neil’s forthcoming Australian book tour in June 2009.
    9. Contact Text Publishing to request an interview Neil on behalf of FourThousand. (This request was a near-certainty, given my relationship with the publisher.)
    10. Discover that Neil’s book tour omits Brisbane. Sadly, resign the interview to a 20 minute phone call.
    11. Meet with Nick Crocker on Sunday, June 21 2009. He suggests the unforeseen possibility of flying to Sydney to interview Neil in person. (Nick: “Since he’s such a massive influence, why don’t you spend a couple hundred dollars to fly down to make a better impression?” Andrew: “…” [stunned silence, having not considered this option at all])
    12. Later that night, book flights to Sydney to interview Neil in person.
    13. Fly to Sydney on Tuesday, June 23 2009.
    14. Meet Neil. Complete my biggest interview yet by having a conversation, instead of referring to questions point-by-point.
    15. Begin transcribing the conversation at Sydney Airport.
    16. Fly back to Brisbane, head full of inspiration.
    17. Per Neil’s advice, outsource the rest of the interview transcription; in this case, to Israel, to an excellent transcriptionist named Tamara Bentzur. (I found her by Googling “outsource transcriptions”.)
    18. Spend the next two-plus months pitching the interview feature to various magazines in an attempt to recoup the $300 airfares.
    19. Get rejected.
    20. Eventually post the entire interview – 8,000 words-plus – online, free.

    Regrets? None.

    6 Comments / Writing /

  • August 24, 2009

    Cumulative Advantage and Social Currency

    A straightforward online exchange: Matt Granfield tweeted a link at @waycooljnr, the Twitter account I run with Nick Crocker for music and marketing links. It was an interesting link worth sharing, so I thanked Matt via Twitter and left a comment on David Gillespie‘s blog post.

    Simple, right? And, at first glance, pretty nerdy, especially when I describe what took all of 30 seconds. But it got me thinking about what is, in my mind, the real value of social networking: shortening the distance between people.

    Good thing there's no dice on the cover. Yeah, an NNT in-joke. Boom.For the last couple months, I’ve been reading a book by Nassim Nicholas Taleb called The Black Swan. I’m not going to feign complete comprehension, as frankly, it’s the most challenging thing I’ve read since Robert Greene‘s 48 Laws Of Power, which took me over a year to absorb.

    Among many taxing topics, Taleb discusses the ‘Matthew effect‘, otherwise known as cumulative advantage. It’s the concept whereby it’s easier for the rich to become richer, and for the famous to get more famous:

    This theory can easily apply to companies, businessmen, actors, writers, and anyone else who benefits from past success. If you get published in The New Yorker because of the color of your letterhead or attracted the attention of the editor, who was daydreaming of daisies, the resultant reward can follow you for life. [p. 218]

    The earlier Twitter exchange allowed me to bridge the gap between that concept and social networking. Put simply: the more you interact with someone online before you meet them, the greater the chances that you’ll get what you want for them, be it friendship, mentorship, or a job.

    Let’s run with the third option. Picture two undergraduate job candidates. One spends his days at university and his nights on the couch watching television. The other spends his days at uni and his nights online, reading blogs, participating in relevant industry conversations via social media, and identifying local influencers within the industry he hopes to begin a career.

    An ideal employer advertises a junior role. Until they shake hands at the interview, Dude #1 is nothing more than a resumé and a cover letter to the employer. But Dude #2 has been sharing valuable links and commenting on the company’s blog, so he strikes an easily rapport with the employer based on their mutual interests and knowledge. Their social currency.

    Which one’s going to get the job? [An aside: I’m as surprised as you that I autopiloted into a university-based thought exercise, given my past admonishment of its worth.]

    Okay, the scenario’s not applicable to every industry. A chemistry undergraduate would find it less pertinent than a web designer. But hell, everything’s online these days. It kinda blows my mind that so many people still don’t get this.

    They're definitely not signing any more electro acts, though.I’ve been online for like 10 years, and I’m only just beginning to consciously pay attention to this stuff. Cumulative advantage dictates that the more time you spend online building meaningful relationships and contributing to the internet, the easier it’ll be to get what you want.

    At the top, I wrote that it was kinda nerdy to describe a Twitter interaction. But when you’re using these tools to establish yourself as an influencer within the industry you’re passionate about, well, who the fuck cares if it’s nerdy? You’re winning.

    One of Australia’s top indie record labels today advertised a job via Twitter. You wouldn’t hear about that while watching television, would you?

    Three quotes occurred as I wrote this. The last one’s the most important.

    Ryan Holiday, December 3 2007:

    [If I was starting all over again today]l I’d become a personal RSS reader for one or two of the big bloggers. “You’ll like this article.” “Do you read this blog? He hits a lot of the same themes that you do.” “I’m hearing rumors that ____ is going to acquire ______, just wanted to give you a heads up.” And I would tailor the results for that person based on what I know they like. I would kill myself doing it. Every day, 5-10 articles. And then I would start to integrate commentary or questions. Become the guy that they get their information from, the person that keeps them connected to the pulse. Maybe one week I’d take a break and send nothing, just to highlight the difference. The ultimate end game being that they would start to send you out to find things for them: “What can you tell me about ________” Yes, you’re a research bitch but in the end, you come away with something that even the person you’re serving doesn’t–not just a vast reserve of knowledge but the ability to find out where it is coming from.

    Ryan Holiday, June 11 2008:

    One day you’ll probably want something from the internet – you’ll have a book to promote, a business that needs customers, someone you need to meet, an ebay auction you’re trying to sell, a job you’re after. It’ll be too late then. You have to start before. And there’s only one way to do that.

    Tait Ischia, April 17 2009:

    You have to prove to business owners that you are good and that you’ll make them money. And of course the best way to prove it is by doing stuff. Blogs are the easiest way to do stuff. It’s basically like maintaining a Facebook but isn’t a complete time-wasting exercise in vanity. If all the kids these days spent the same amount of time writing blogs that they did on Facebook, then [the advertising] industry would be a hell of a lot more competitive.

    8 Comments / Writing /

  • August 18, 2009

    “What Makes A Great Live Performance?” for Creative Deconstruction

    [A guest post for Refe Tuma over at Creative Deconstruction. Original post here.]

    This is a guest post by Andrew McMillen, a music writer based in Brisbane, Australia. Andrew is coordinating blog content for an Australian music event, One Movement For Music, which debuts in October 2009. The blog at OneMovementWord.com contains interviews with artists and speakers appearing at the event, Australian music news, as well as guest posts exchanged with the likes of Creative Deconstruction’s Refe Tuma.

    The Temper Trap: well-readFor both music fan and critic, the most exciting live music experience is the great unknown. Bearing witness to an act you’d not previously heard, but becoming completely immersed in their art. Becoming an instant convert to their cause. Becoming willing to hit the merch desk immediately after they’re done playing in order to buy something – anything! – that the band have created; to have, to hold, and to listen. Those are the kinds of performances that music critics such as myself love to write about; they’re also the kinds of performances that A&R folk spend their careers trying to witness, in order to sign and release the act’s music on behalf of their label.

    I’ve been a live music critic since June 2007. Two ‘great unknown’ performances stick in my mind. The first was in September 2008. I was reviewing an industry showcase event for the Brisbane-based Big Sound music conference. Four bands each had thirty minutes each to show their wares and attempt to build rapport with a crowd largely comprised of wary industry vets and conference delegates. Second on the bill were Melbourne band The Temper Trap [pictured right], of whom I had no concept. Their first couple of songs were enjoyable, if unremarkable. Then they played the track ‘Sweet Disposition’, which is embedded below.

    The singer’s high vocal range elicited the kind of spinal shivers you can’t manufacture, and the beauty of the chorus hook brought tears to my eyes. Four minutes later, my accomplice and I traded incredulous, “what-the-fuck-just-happened?” looks. One of the most passionate, astonishing and affecting single performances we’d ever seen, is what. I wrote:

    “Witnessing support bands unexpectedly and effortlessly capture the complete attention of an audience is always a joy to behold; the thirty-minute set that unfolds before me is a stellar example of this phenomenon. The Temper Trap’s brilliant pop contains all of the expected ingredients, but with the added spice of Dougy’s incredible voice. The performance of new single Sweet Disposition is one of the most moving, inspiring events I’ve witnessed this year. Outstanding.” – Andrew McMillen, Rave Magazine, September 2008

    No surprises, then, that The Temper Trap used the resultant industry interest to sign a record deal, tour the world and release their debut album to wide acclaim. In a Japanese hostel in June 2009, I saw the video for their track ‘Science Of Fear‘ on MTV, and smiled at the progress the band had made in nine months. This is the kind of rare success story – predicated on pure passion and talent – that unites music fans, music critics and industry professionals.

    My second example is less impressive in market reach, but closer to my heart. In November 2008, I accepted an assignment from my editor to review a couple of local bands on a rainy Thursday night. With a different friend in a tow, and little more than a hope that the bands would be entertaining enough to fulfil our craving for live music – and the necessity to describe the proceedings in 200 words – we were witness to a similarly inspirational performance.

    Hunz, a.k.a. Hans van Vliet. He's totally checking his Facebook.The second band were an electronic pop trio called Hunz [pictured left], of whom I was vaguely aware, based on the animated YouTube short that a workmate had shown me months earlier. My friend and I stood close to stage, among a few dozen of the seemingly equally-ignorant. Before long, we were spellbound by their skilful contrast of dark electronic sounds against uplifting pop melodies. I was one of several to buy the band’s CD from the singer/keyboardist at set’s end, and thanked him for the performance. I wrote:

    “Hunz augments electronic samples with his unique voice and live drum and bass to produce an enchanting sound. Why haven’t we heard him earlier? Blame ineffective promotion, blame infrequent performances; it doesn’t matter, as there’s several dozen new fans appreciating the trio’s thoughtful, restrained pieces. The frontman graciously accepts our hastily-spent cash in exchange for his remarkable debut, When Victims Fight.” – Andrew McMillen, Rave Magazine, November 2008

    That particular musical discovery stuck with me for months. Hunz’s album was never far from my Winamp playlist or iPod scroll-wheel. I shared their music far and wide; months later, I met the man behind the band, singer/keyboardist Hans van Vliet (a.k.a. Hunz). Our mutual appreciation – from humble musician, to music critic and passionate fan – forged a friendship that soon led to an offer to become the band’s manager; a role I continue to inhabit and cherish. View an animated YouTube clip below to get an idea of the band’s sound; visit Hunz’s Bandcamp page to download some tracks for free.

    These two examples are atypical of most live performances I see. While I can eke enjoyment out of the vast majority of shows I attend, my housemates could attest to the regularity with which I arrive home and state a show was merely “okay” or “good”. The reality, though, is that “good” isn’t good enough; “good” means I probably didn’t buy your CD after the show, and that your act probably won’t win their way into my playlist.

    I often read about how there’s more music being played and listened to by more people than ever before, and how the live show is where artists traditionally earn the most coin. Since the role of the music critic – in my mind – is to sort the gold from the pyrite, it’s vital for touring artists to develop an engaging, memorable show that’ll convince guys like me to champion bands like yours. When I review live music, I want to rave about bands I love, instead of painstakingly pinpointing my disappointment. As both critic and fan, I want to be excited and inspired, not bored and unimpressed.

    Written by Andrew McMillen for OneMovementWord.com.

    1 Comment / Writing /

  • July 31, 2009

    If I Were An Unpublished Music Writer

    I’d start a blog and write about everything that excites and horrifies me about music.

    I’d write something worth publishing every day.

    I’d include visual elements that offer supporting evidence to each story.

    I’d watch and write about at least one live band every week.

    I’d rewrite what I wrote until the story was devoice of cliché, and I’d edit until only the story’s bare essentials remained.

    I didn’t know any of this when I decided to start writing about music in June 2007. I didn’t try to find the answers; I didn’t ask questions. I just wrote about some shows that I got to see for free, and thought that was reward in itself.

    I’ve changed, of course. I’m a better writer in that I’m less shit. I’m mindful of what I write. I finish a draft and immediately remove anything that I’d have written two years ago. This internal quality control requires discipline. It’s mentally exhausting. But the goal should always be to tell the story smartly and succinctly.

    I’d establish my favourite Australian music sites and study their best writers closely.

    I’d send the links to the best stories on my blog to the editors of my favourite sites every week.

    I’d send the links to the best stories on my blog to my favourite published music writers every week.

    I’d ignore street press and write for the web.

    Street press is a siren’s call to the young Australian music writer. The allure of free tickets and the anti-glamour of writing for a small group of passionate music fans captures many. I have no regrets of writing for street press: its influence afforded me many excellent musical experiences, and many opportunities to improve my writing. Of course, there’s the thrill of seeing your name in print for the first time. (It’s still a buzz, two-plus years on.)

    But I’d hope that there’s music writers younger than me who’ll shirk the notion that you’ve got to cut your teeth on street press and its fixed format. I won’t describe the benefits of writing about music on the web, as Andrew Ramadge already did that brilliantly.

    You can write for FasterLouder, who’ll publish your words in front of an audience in exchange for thanks. I wouldn’t discourage any music writer from beginning their journey there, as you’re mostly free to approach a story however you please. (Whether this is advantageous is up to you.)

    Or you can write for Mess+Noise, who’ll publish your words in front of an audience in exchange for money. The learning curve here for a street press- or FasterLouder-styled writer is steep, as I’ve discussed. They won’t publish just anything; the site’s reputation hinges on this ideal. But if you’re serious about this – becoming a music writer – the barrier to entry will inspire excellence in your work.

    (Note: This post was inspired by Shaun Prescott‘s ‘Flogging A Dead Horse… Still‘)

    4 Comments / Writing /

  • July 26, 2009

    Bachelor Of Communication

    Is it arrogant for me to state that my Bachelor Of Communication is worthless? Probably.

    Aside from being a physical reminder of my ability to (somewhat) focus on a goal for three-plus years, a degree is only useful if a potential employer needs to check that box before hiring me. Since I don’t see myself applying for a job that requires a résumé ever again, can you see why I feel this way?

    Andrew McMillen became Andrew McMillen, BComm on July 24 2009. An old dude who speak at the ceremony said to my fellow graduands something along the lines of: “Having invested years of your life studying here at the University Of Queensland, you understand that a university education is more than simply attending lectures and handing in assignments.”

    Cue sniggers, because that’s exactly what I found my university education to be: a matter of attending lectures and handing in assignments. Essentially, doing enough to pass, without extending myself.

    Why didn’t I extend myself? A good question. The old dude was hinting that a university education is what you make of it. There was a whole lot of extracurricular bullshit like networking, volunteering and university politics that absolutely didn’t interest me. So I opted to show up to class occasionally, hand in assignments, and do enough to pass.

    I suppose I always felt that studying Communication was a waste of my time. The cute summary of the program I give to people is that Communication is half journalism, half media studies. And entirely rooted in events that happened decades ago; practices that were established centuries ago.

    Why didn’t I quit? Another good question. I’ve made it clear that I don’t value the certificate that’ll sit in my closet for eternity. I guess I took the easy way out by sticking to what I’d started, rather than course-correcting from what I constantly felt was a misguided pathway. Call it parental pressure, call it social expectation; my boss last year told me I’d be fired if didn’t finish the degree. Another example of me not wanting to rock the boat, not wanting to cause a scene, not wanting to stray from the presupposed outcome I’ve allowed others to dictate since high school, even while feeling nothing toward the journey itself.

    As I write this, I feel a misguided arrogance tickling the edge of my consciousness. It prompts me to spout something like: “Almost everything I was instructed to learn and understand throughout my degree was written at a time before the internet! Newspapers are dying, traditional journalists are displaced! The internet changed everything! That a university education is valuable is a fucking fallacy!”

    That’s my irrational response to this discussion. I’ve attempted to curtail it many times, both psychologically and in conversation, but it still tends to rear its head. I know there are a thousand arguments against what I just wrote; entertain me with them if you wish.

    I won’t pretend to empathise with my fellow graduates, Communication or otherwise. But as I sat among the hundreds, I thought thoughts like:

    • How many of them feel entitled to the certificate they’re about to receive?
    • How many of them feel that they deserve to walk right into a job, a career, simply because they passed classes for a couple of years?
    • How many of them are prepared for the world in which we live – one that values the sharing of ideas rather than the submission of formulaic assignments that fit into predetermined criteria?
    • How many are going to proudly call themselves ‘professional communicators’ for the rest of their lives, without irony?
    • How many are going to fail to realise how sad it is to self-define by a Bachelor/Doctorate/Master ‘of’?
    • How many of them blog?

    I’d like to think that I’m being realistic, here, expressing these sentiments. Refusing to accept that life is as easy as the steps set out by the people who run the business of tertiary education: study, degree, career, happiness, death.

    The cylinder is empty. I SENSE A METAPHOR

    I’d like to think that I’m being honest with myself, and that I’m achieving something by sharing my feelings of discontent.

    I’d like to think that I’m being pragmatic by shrugging off congratulations; the myth that completing a degree is worthy of recognition.

    But it’s probably pretty clear that my assertions are filled with contradictions, hypocrisy and half-truths. I’m not looking for reassurance. I know where I want to be and who I want to represent, and I know that I didn’t need a certificate to signify either.

    Maybe I’m alone on this among my peers, but I’d hope not. It’d make things a lot easier for me were they that delusional, but mostly I’d just pity them.

    Kind of ironic that the graduation ceremony’s guest speaker, ABC reporter and journalist Chris Masters – whose speech greatly inspired and motivated me – has been awarded honorary doctorates and degrees, but chose to never set foot within a university.

    It’s not all bad. My time at university prompted me to write the first post on this site, in May 2008. That single decision – inspired by frustration and helplessness – pointed me in what felt like the right direction. Namely, far from sandstone hallways and dull classrooms.

    Thanks for boring me into action, University Of Queensland! IOU $16,306.

    13 Comments / Writing /

  • July 7, 2009

    Free freelance writing advice from Lucy Robertson, Australian writer and sub-editor

    Lately I’m of the belief that the best way to learn is to study and ask questions of those who’re older than me. This realisation only dawned on me after I noticed that I was paying the most attention not to my peers, but to those with decades more knowledge and experience.

    And maybe this is a simple, elementary realisation to have – I mean, the entire education system is built on this old-teaching-young structure – but what I’m trying to say is that for perhaps the first time in my life, I’m starting to throw away the bullshit arrogance that’s become a part of my personality, and I’m instead listening to and taking on board the advice of the wise.

    Lucy Robertson is a freelance writer and sub-editor who I reached out to after perusing Dave Earley’s list of journalists on Twitter.

    Hi Lucy,

    I just came across your site after seeing your comment on the Earley Edition Twitter list. I saw that you’re a sub-editor and contributor to many publications, so I thought I’d ask for some advice.

    I’m Andrew, I’m 21, I live in Brisbane, and I write for a bunch of places including The Music Network, Mess+Noise, Rave Magazine and FourThousand, as well as my blog.

    I conducted an interview in Sydney with one of my favourite writers a fortnight ago – Neil Strauss, six times New York Times bestseller – and I’d really like to get the interview published as a feature article in a publication similar to the Virgin and Qantas in-flight mags.

    Any advice you can spare as to how to pitch this article to editors will be very much appreciated. I have an inkling that’s not so much who you are, but who you know – I started writing for TMN and M+N only after being introduced to the editors of those publications by a mutual friend.

    Thanks Lucy – nice to e-meet you! :)

    Andrew

    A couple of hours later, Lucy floored me with some valuable, honest advice that’s applicable to any freelance writer. With Lucy’s permission, I’ve reproduced her reply in full.

    I hope you find Lucy’s words as entertaining and inspiration as I did . Thanks again, Lucy.

    Hey Andrew,

    Great to hear from you! It’s always wonderful to see new writers coming into the industry with a healthy dose of passion. Thanks for stopping by my site, although I have to say it’s not as functional and relevant as yours – I’ve been meaning to get a blog up and running for a while but it keeps getting punted down my ‘to-do’ list. Sigh.

    Anyway, to your questions… It sounds like you’re already well on the road to finding some good outlets for your work, and it’s great to be concentrating on something you love. I think the best way to carve out a niche for yourself in such a competitive industry is to write about what you love and make yourself indispensable in that area (another thing I haven’t really managed to do – I’ll write anything!).  So snaps to you.  Street press like Rave Mag and niche independent pubs like FourThousand and Mess+Noise are fabulous for getting some quality bylines and to start building a name for yourself in music/arts writing, so hopefully they’re paying you OK and giving you regular stuff.

    You’re also right about it often being who you know instead of what that gets you work … I worked on staff at Text Pacific for VirginBlue’s mag and have continued to get work as a freelancer there because of it. Same with ACP mags (Qantas, Austar, Foxtel, Ralph, etc), where I was a sub for a while and got to know the people who hand out commissions. Buying people a beer after work has never been so important! Try and get to every meet-and-greet opportunity you can, and hand out cards like it’s nobody’s business.

    BUT, that said, I’d like to think getting writing work is also about the simplicity of having a great idea at the right time. Editors are usually an overworked, underpaid bunch of creatives who spend their life trying to come up with new angles on old stories or interesting ways to sell an idea. So, if your email lands in their inbox at the right time, with the right wording and after the right amount of caffeine, you’ve usually got a foot in the door. And speaking of doors, SQUEAKY ones help too… I know a few pretty ordinary writers who keep getting work simply because they pitch madly and constantly to spread their chances.

    So basically, get an email template up and running and get into the habit of sending it out to as many editors as you can get email addresses for. Aim for two new contacts a week or something to build up your contact list. I’d make your pitch short and sweet, and include everything in the body of the email, because editors don’t often have time to open an attachment. Get straight to the point and just introduce yourself in one line, then put your idea forward with a snappy headline (try things that catch their attention like puns on the theme of your story or name of the writer, etc, or a play on words that sticks in the mind without being contrived) and the first paragraph of your proposed story that will hopefully have them wanting to read more. Sometimes I outline what could follow in the rest of the article a few quick dot-points, including any talent you might have already lined up or are able to get hold of… If you don’t hear anything back from them in a week, send it on to somebody else. And if you DO hear back from them saying they’re not interested or whatever, don’t give up – keep sending it around!

    Of course it pays to do your homework and make sure your idea fits with their mag. For instance, at VirginBlue we were constantly getting emails from freelancers pitching ideas about great travel articles on skiing in Japan, which would have been perfect for an airline that actually flew there. Same goes for seasonal stuff – don’t pitch a winter-themed story at the end of winter, because by the time the story goes through three months of so of production, it will be sweltering. Blah blah blah, I’m sure you already know all of this!

    Now for the bad news. Unfortunately it’s very hard to get much published as a freelancer at the moment. Lots of my regular monthly commissions have dried up (including Virgin Blue!) because the first thing most big publishing houses do in a downturn is cut staff writers, reign in their freelance budget and start syndicating material from their international partners or sister media channels (for instance, Text Pacific is owned by Channel Seven, so they’re re-working interviews done for TV or by international titles at Pacific Mags, rather than paying for a whole new story).

    You’ll also see the same thing happening a lot at Fairfax and News Ltd, which are using a lot of AAP-sourced material and have laid off a shitload of journos in preference of regurgitating older material or taking free contributions (from academics, researchers, etc) and even just cutting book sizes to reduce their costs. Personally, I think this sucks and it’s a bad way to run any successful media organisation, because it’s only a matter of time before readers get the shits with being served the same old story for the same price. BUT, it’s something we all have to deal with for a few months and hope it all blows over sooner rather than later. If you have an economics degree, it might be a good time to be an accountant for a while! Ha haaa. Or not.

    Ironically, it’s usually the smaller publishing houses that are used to having their backs up against the wall that keep commissioning good writers during down times, because they live and die on the quality of their rag. Which is where you answer lies… research the THOUSANDS of crazy little magazines floating around out there and pitch to them. You’ll be amazed how many custom magazines, online newsletters, and little niche publications there are out there, and you probably have more chance of winning a pitch because there’s less competition for their bylines. It’s less glamorous, but it pays the bills and builds up some solid contacts that are usually less flighty than the big wigs. At the moment, without much work at all coming in from the likes of Virgin Blue or Qantas, SMH, etc, I’m living off smaller, quirkier commissions from weird places like a business magazine for dentists, an in-store brochure for GO-VITA health stores, some film reviews for Optus magazine and a bit of marketing writing for websites. It’s all super snore-ville stuff, but hopefully I’m just biding my time till the market picks up, the ads start coming back to mags, and the commissions start rolling in again. Fingers crossed.

    So, my advice to you is to keep pitching those great ideas to all the pubs you want to write for. Just don’t lose heart if you don’t get heaps of work straight away, because it’s seriously a bit tough at the moment. It will pick up, and when it does, you’ll be ahead of the queue! But also, keep writing for those independent publications and keep writing about stuff you love. And keep up the blog!!

    Try not to get ripped off with anything less than about 40-50 cents per word, too. Somewhere around .70 per word is more reasonable, but it’s a fine balance between getting published and earning a living at the moment, so find out where that line is for you. Also don’t write for free for these big guys unless it’s an on-spec arrangement and you think you might get paid for later work.

    Geez, I’ve rabbited on. Are you still awake?

    I hope that helps mate. Let me know how you go, and keep up the passion levels. It’s hard to do sometimes, but if you really love words then it’s all worth it in the end! And it can be a great lifestyle – even in tough times like … um, right now.

    Cheers,

    Lucy

    13 Comments / Writing /

  • July 1, 2009

    Know, II

    I just re-read this post, ‘Know‘, that I wrote nearly a year ago.

    I don’t know much. But I’m not comfortable with that. Which is why I endeavour to know more every day.

    There’s nothing wrong with not knowing if you’re honest with yourself and others. Not knowing should not cause embarrassment. Not knowing should be reframed as an opportunity to learn a new skill or new information.

    I’m thinking about what’s occurred since that entry; the new information that I’ve taken on board and the progress I’ve made.

    At the time, I was a couple of months into my first office job. I threw myself into that opportunity with fervent passion for several months. I was focussed on the idea of the career, of being the person I believed I should be. And I think about how that belief has changed since that post.

    It’s also interesting to step back and realise how singularly influenced I was by Ryan Holiday. I still treasure his writing, for sure, but now I’ve a wider base of influences with which to assure myself in times of doubt.

    And these times occur, much as it pains me to admit it, both to myself and my audience. I wonder when the seed of that desire to hide perceived weakness was planted.

    Sometimes I feel the weight of so many people – and, as a writer, words – that’ve come before me, and I wonder what I’m doing. I’m occasionally struck by the arrogance attached to the desire to tell stories. And I wonder if that desire is artificial within me, since it tends to come and go.

    What’s changed since ‘Know‘? A new home, many new friends, a mentor, and several interrelated opportunities upon which to build a platform for myself, as a writer. This time last year, I wrote for Rave Magazine and FasterLouder.com.au. Now, scratch FL, and add Mess+Noise, FourThousand, and The Music Network.

    Add to that ongoing work for Nick‘s Native Digital, and attempting to manage the affairs of one of my favourite musical artists. And last week I met and interviewed one of my favourite writers. Yes, the interview will appear on here eventually.

    See, listing my current interests – which largely, happily combine the dual-cliché of business and pleasure – it’s a wonder that I’m ever at a loose end. And in reality, I’m not. So why aren’t I researching the next great Mess+Noise feature? Why aren’t I further forging Native’s name as a media innovation partner? Why aren’t I putting into practice the modern marketing and promotion tactics that I read about every day?

    I wish I had some pithy, smart-ass sentence here to answer my own questions. But the reality is that I’m crippled by inertia far too often for my own good, and it sucks. It sucks the most when I’m feel like I’m letting myself down due to my inactivity.

    This would be the part where I’d publicly state my goals, but right now, I’m struggling to figure out where to begin.

    Thanks for reading. I’m out-of-sorts with this entry, I know. I might owe that to recent dental surgery, but maybe I was just looking for a way to tell you what I’ve been up to since my last entry.

    Hold me accountable, won’t you?

    2 Comments / Writing /
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