I’ve got your social media strategy right here

Every so often I find something online (or someone tells me about something) that makes me think, “Why didn’t I think of this?”

Whatthefuckismysocialmediastrategy is one such gem.

In the year I spent managing Kansan.com, our biggest goal was to get more traffic to the site and get readers involved. We started manually managing the paper’s Twitter account. We added more polls, asked for reader submissions and ideas and increased multimedia offerings. If Foursquare had been around in any significant capacity, I’m sure we could have done a hell of a lot with it.

I feel like “social media” was the main buzz phrase my senior year of college. I spent a significant amount of time that year, and this past year, carefully cultivating an online presence in the “right” places. While I avoid consuming tech products for their own sake (I don’t own an iPhone or other smart phone and only very recently bought an iPod Touch), I like to think I’m fairly “with it” technologically, lest this come off like the rantings of an old cat lady screaming at kids to get off my lawn. I “get” the new media infatuation. But there are some problems.

My biggest annoyance with social media is basically what the aforementioned site makes fun of: People seem to be building it up as something more grandiose than it really is. And I can’t really understand why. Most of the phrases found on the site are ones I actually recognize, either from someone’s CV I’ve seen, a company manifesto or a press release. Somewhere out there is a guy, God bless him, who earnestly believes he’s “providing brand ambassadors with compelling conversation hooks to enter into communities and fuel advocacy” (quoted from the site).

I’m trying to figure out if this is just good old-fashioned CV posturing/bragging (if so, if it wasn’t their mad tweeting skills it’d be something else), or if new media kids are deliberately trying to be arch and vague about what it is that they do to maintain an air of importance and indispensability. If it sounds that important, it must be difficult, right? Or at least, something very few other people are capable of doing. Imagine that you’re a middle-aged manager who’s never tweeted before and barely knows how to send e-mail. Wouldn’t you be slightly impressed if a young whippersnapper came in and told you how awesome social media was, using language like that?

Part of it too is just being as young as I am. The basic job of managing a Twitter feed, starting a Facebook group, running promotions using Foursquare and writing a blog doesn’t sound terribly impressive to me simply because I’m so used to doing it and seeing it done. Perhaps if I were older and less familiar with those applications, I’d be less cynical about flowery language and rhetoric used to describe it.

On the news side of things, I’m afraid that the usefulness of the social media hasn’t caught up to the technology. We have social media apps out the ying-yang, but people are still trying to figure out what to do with them. It also doesn’t do us any good if we raise a generation of journalists who can format an iPhone, edit random video clips and check in on Gowalla but don’t know how to edit, report, lay out a page (and in this digital era, design skills are necessary for the Web, too), compose a photo or communicate with people in, you know, person.

The technology should never be bigger than the story you’re trying to tell. You should also never shoot for shinier tech displays in story-telling when simpler ones will do. I’m out of J school now, but I have this fear that the current new media hype will result in tons of alumni with little to no skills in the basics. I’ve been asked for advice before — What would you tell new J school graduates? And my answer then was the same as it is now: You can know how to use all the technology and applications in the world, but if you don’t know basic reporting skills, you’re screwed. And yes, of course, there’s plenty of room for Twitter and Facebook and Foursquare and so on in journalism. But it all depends on how you use it.

I guess a good baseline for young journalists should be the answer to this question: “If the Internet broke down tomorrow and your iPhone/laptop turned into a paperweight, could you still report this story?”

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go check my Twitter feed.

An update

Quite a bit has happened since my last post!

I’m a little more than halfway through my editing internship with The Kansas City Star’s sports desk. I’m enjoying it a lot, and it’s really helping me to hone my (dormant) design skills. It’s fun trying to outsmart the dastardly CCI program, which I think is a Trojan horse engineered by Denmark to topple the American economic system. I also bring cupcakes from time to time, which has endeared me to the local population.

My visa application is at the British consulate in the amazing city of Chicago, and I’m getting ready to register at Kent. The school’s been very helpful with everything and I can’t wait to get there. There are a lot of activities and societies that I’m interested in, I have a part-time job I’m going to apply for (teaching international relations to A Level students) and I find out where I’m living in amazing Woolf College in a couple of weeks. It’s crazy how much there is to do to get ready — student ID registration, enrollment, NHS registration, doctors’ appointments, train and plane schedules, grocery stores, etc. The logistics of it all are pretty daunting.

I did have a small tragedy this week. I had decided, a few weeks ago, that rather than get an entirely new laptop, I’d patch up the one I have and hold onto it for another year. Sadly, during its maintenance, the motherboard freaked out and my beloved PowerBook G4 has gone up to the big coffee shop in the sky. So this Sunday I’m going with my mother to the Apple store on the Plaza to pick out a new one. Rather than get a lower-end one that will be “good enough,” I’m biting the bullet and getting what I would have gotten if I’d just gone ahead and bought a new one to begin with (ironic, eh?). Basically, a 15.4″ MacBook Pro with a 320GB hard drive and a 2.4GHz processor. Oh, and a 32GB iPod Touch because of the college promotion. It’s also a tax holiday in Missouri this weekend. I’d be stupid not to get one.

So that’s about where I am now. I’m hoping to turn this more into a commentary and less of a play-by-play once the school year starts, but right now I’m mostly working and planning, planning and working.

An update on school

Barring a catastrophe (or government bureaucracy), I’ll be heading back to England in about two and a half months. It seems unreal how fast this year went by.

After a somewhat slow spring in terms of updates and news, I finally received solid information on my loans a few days ago. I’m thankful that the bank-managed Stafford loans were replaced with government-managed loans. The interest rates are lower and my school can take a more proactive approach instead of waiting for a bank to get back to them.

I ticked down the checklist — completing the FAFSA, filling out a promissory note, completing online loan counseling and sending Kent the updates — and now I wait, with a lot of pressure off my shoulders. I’m hoping I have solid acceptance information in a few weeks, so I can arrange for my airfare, my housing (yay Woolf College!) and my visa.

Until I get my news, I’m trying to be productive. I started a list of stuff to take with me, I’ve been researching Canterbury and what to do there, I’ve picked out a new bed set and I’m starting a sports editing internship with The Kansas City Star. My job starts Monday, June 28, and barely a week and a half after it ends, I leave. Very heady. I don’t think it will really set in until I get my visa stamp, and maybe not even until I get on the plane.

Parting with an old friend

I’ve known him for more than five years (I guess it’s a him?) and he’s been a loyal companion. He puts up with constant use, he rarely complains and he goes with me everywhere. Despite being on the older end, he still looks pretty good. He’s my silver fox. Or at least, my aluminum fox.

He’s my 2005 PowerBook G4 laptop.

I bought him with my own money, along with my 5MP Canon point-and-click (which is also on notice), a first-generation iPod Photo and a printer. He got me through the end of my senior year of high school, three years at KU, a year in England and two (soon to be three) summer internships. I’ll always have happy memories of him.

But it’s about time to move on.

Before I leave for school in September, I plan on hitting the Apple store and picking up my aluminum fox’s great-great-great-grandson: a 15.4″, 2.66 GHz, 500GB HD, antiglare-screened MacBook Pro. And probably a 32GB iPod Touch, but only because that back-to-school promotion is on and my current iPod is going to be four years old at Christmas. I swear.

Getting a new computer for a new school year got me thinking about my relationship with my current computer. I have term papers, photos, music, website designs, page layouts, manuals and God only knows what else on here. It represents half a decade of accumulated digital “wealth.” I know I’ll miss his familiar keys, size and weight. It’s going to take time to get used to a newer model.

But he’s been gimpy lately. These newfangled websites slow him down, and he’s not as quick on his feet as he used to be. His keys show signs of wear, his top panel sticks up slightly (an oopsy in Indianapolis) and he’s getting harder to keep clean. Despite belonging to a “multimedia journalist,” he doesn’t have the juice to run most applications I’d use. So I think the humane thing to do is put him out to pasture — recycle him or pass him along to someone else. He’s still got a good life in him; I just don’t think it can or will be with me.

Oh, I’ll miss him.

What your team says about you

I, like most people I know, am watching the World Cup. I try hard to watch all of the matches, but getting up at 6 a.m. to watch South Korea pound Greece is pretty difficult. What makes the Cup so awesome and so popular is that everyone can have a horse in the race. You don’t even have to root for your native country. So how do you decide for whom to root? Well…

Brazil: You like playing it safe and going with the obvious choice. Way to go out on a limb there.

Spain: You like going with the obvious choice, but someone already picked Brazil in your office pool.

England: You may or may not have a Wayne Rooney altar in your sock drawer and you’re also a glutton for punishment. 1966. 1-9-6-6. That’s all.

Italy: You’re still living in 2006. Those guys might as well be hauling oxygen tanks around with them.

United States: You’re American.

France: What do you mean Zidane’s not playing anymore?!

South Africa: You feel compelled to root for the home team. Or you’re not sure how the seeding works.

Germany: I’m in love with you.

The Netherlands: You’ve mistaken Deutsch for Dutch. Luckily the Orangemen are good and won’t embarrass you too much. They might even win!

Mexico: You’re American.

Argentina or Chile: When you want to go South American but also want to avoid a cliche.

Portugal: You woke up and asked yourself, “How can I make myself even more annoying?”

Australia: You just like saying “Socceroos” over and over again.

Ghana: If you’re going to root for an African team, it’s going to be one that can actually advance.

Ivory Coast: See the above.

Cameroon: You read the profile of Samuel Eto’o in Time and now you’re smitten. Who wouldn’t be?

North Korea: You’re worried about what might happen to them if they don’t do well.

Serbia: You’re basing your choice on what team has the most attractive men.

Switzerland: A country wedged between France, Italy and Germany has to be good, right? Right?

Uruguay or Paraguay: The ‘guay’ ending is a dead giveaway that there’s some good footie going on.

Slovenia or Algeria: You just want one or both of them to upset England and/or the United State.

Japan or South Korea: Because an all-Europe/South American knockout round would be so boring.

I’m told that there are 32 teams and not just 26. And I’m sure someone, somewhere, is rooting for the six that I’ve missed. But … eh.

Judgment Day in the UK

Today’s a very important day to me. It’s the first time since I started seriously studying the British political system that the country is having a general election.

At this point, roughly five hours before actual results start coming in, I have no idea what party is going to win. That’s what makes it so exciting and so nerve-wracking. As someone planning to move (legally, thank you) to the UK in September for school, I like to think I have some small stake in this election, even though I’m not a citizen.

The British system is also interesting to follow because of how different it is from our U.S. system. In Britain, a parliamentary democracy, you vote for the party, not the candidate. The party that wins the majority of seats gets to form a government (what we in the U.S. would refer to as an administration). Districts have MPs like we have congressmen in the U.S., but you can’t, say, vote for an MP of one party and a prime minister of another. It’s straight-ticket voting.

It’s been fascinating to read people’s complaints and comments on the BBC for the past few days. There’s talk of tactical voting — voting AGAINST one party, just to keep them out, but not necessarily voting for a party that has a legitimate chance of winning. There are complaints of the “first past the post” system, which disallows run-offs and makes it so a party could theoretically get a smaller popular vote percentage and still win. And, just like in the U.S., people are worried about immigration (don’t worry guys, I speak English), their pensions (“I don’t have enough to retire on!”), council taxes (they’re really too high) and the national debt (which they seem to equally blame Labour and the Conservatives for — Labour for being in power, the Conservatives for being pro-business).

As to who I’d vote for given the chance, I really can’t say (and not even sure that I should). I just know that this is high political drama at its best and that everyone should be paying attention, even if you don’t know who on earth Nick Clegg is (he’s the leader of the possibly king-making Liberal Democrats).

Auntie Beeb has a nifty little election section on its site. If you go to the main BBC News site, you’ll see the election coverage relegated to the upper right-hand corner, with major international news getting front-and-center play. It’s such a British thing to do — “Move on, nothing to see here! Oh, right then, suppose there’s an election today of some sort…”

A crash course in citizenship

While browsing my blogroll this morning, I saw that “birthers” are planning a protest in Washington to challenge President Barack Obama’s legitimacy as a natural-born American. As I read the article, it amazed me just how uninformed people are when it comes to American citizenship requirements. Before I continue, let me clarify that I believe Obama was born in Hawaii and that this is for argument’s sake only.

We’re all taught early on that a person must be a “natural-born” U.S. citizen in order to become president. This can obviously mean being born on U.S. soil. What many people (including “birthers”) don’t know is that there are two paths to American citizenship at birth — jus soli and jus sanguinis.

Jus soli (of the soil) refers to the physical location of a person’s birth. Jus sanguinis (by blood) refers to a person’s ancestry. A person born of non-citizen parents in the U.S. would be a natural-born American citizen by virtue of jus soli. A person born in the U.S. of American-citizen parents would be a natural-born American citizen by virtue of both jus soli and jus sanguinis. And a person born abroad of two American-citizen parents or an American-citizen mother would also be a natural-born American citizen by virtue of jus sanguinis, even if they don’t meet the jus soli requirement. The U.S. uses both, and both can be met exclusively.

Yes, kids. This means that even if Barack Obama had been born in Kenya, he would still be a natural-born U.S. citizen because his mother was a U.S. citizen, by virtue of jus sanguinis.

(Lest I be accused of playing favorites, this principle also applies to John McCain, who was born in the Panama Canal Zone to two American parents, while the Zone was a U.S. territory but before Congress had formally hashed out the citizenship of those born in the Zone.)

Now can the “birther” movement die already?


Have book, will travel

I spent the weekend visiting a friend in Lawrence, and after lunch, we headed to Border’s to look at the travel section. Sitting on a bench directly in front of the European section, I couldn’t believe just how many travel guides there were. I don’t know how anyone could pick out a travel guide, short of throwing a dart randomly at the shelf.

There were maybe 20 different travel guides just for London, and I can bet that probably 90 percent of them tell readers to see Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral. Do you really need a travel guide to tell you that? You also don’t need a Paris travel guide to tell you to see the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre.

I prefer travel guides and travel writers who give me credit for already knowing about the big tourist sites. I know that if I’m in Rome, I need to see the Vatican. But at night, after the museums close, where should I go for a drink? Where’s a good place to eat? Are there any tips and tricks on how to avoid lines, where to catch the train and when to hit the town’s flea market?

That was a major consideration when I was planning my travel magazine for the journalism elective credit. I wanted something that would give students studying abroad a taste of authenticity, telling them that they were living in these places and actively participating in day-to-day events. I wanted the magazine to take the snippets in travel guides and expand on them.

Which brings me to my personal favorite travel guide: Let’s Go. My friend and I used the European guide on our backpacking trip. It helped us find an incredible variety of non-touristy restaurants, including a beer house in Munich, a wienerschnitzel restaurant in Salzburg, a tapas bar in Barcelona and the best Italian food I’ve ever had in Florence. We learned what days to avoid hitting the museums, were warned of sites that were tourist traps and also found some great bars. While the major attractions were all covered, most of the book discussed practical considerations.

My goal when traveling is to never (or rarely) be tagged as a tourist. To me, a tourist is gaudy, rude, loud, uninformed and gawking. I had a terrible experience with a pushing, shoving and rude group of American tourists (all in their 40s and 50s) at the Vatican and swore I’d never be like that. I’ve had Britons ask me for travel advice on the Tube, and in Madrid, German hostelers asked me about places to eat, auf deutsch. I’m flattered when people assume, based on my attitude, carriage and actions, that I know what I’m doing. And a lot of that is down to knowing what travel guides cater to travelers, and which ones cater to tourists.

A typical night-editing shift at the Kansan

True story: I have recurring dreams (nightmares?) where I still work at the Kansan. Sometimes I’m stuck behind a computer writing HTML for the site. Other times I’m in the reporting class, and still others I’ve had people actually come to my house and tell me that I have to “be editor next semester, because there isn’t anyone else to do it.”

Mostly, though, I have dreams about night editing. From August 2007 to May 2009, I lived in the newsroom Wednesday nights, either night editing, designing or copy editing. It’s a blur of nearly missed deadlines, late basketball games, hyphens where there should be em dashes and that “” bastard who somehow always had something open.

It can be difficult to describe night editing to a layperson. Can’t be that bad, right? For educational purposes, I present “Night Editing At The University Daily Kansan.” (Yes, reading Cracked has caught up with me and I’m now fascinated with flow charts.)

The digital copy desk

When I saw the new Ask the Recruiter post this morning, about making yourself more valuable as a copy editor, I had a hunch that the skills in question didn’t necessarily have anything to do with editing.

I was right, more or less.

The three main skills mentioned all have to do with Web content: search-engine optimization (SEO), tagging and analytics.

SEO is a skill that most copy editors possess even if they might not know it. Whenever you write a Web headline and are thinking of words that will make the story pop up in a search engine, you’re practicing SEO. Tagging is similar, although it’s more of a behind-the-curtain thing. And analytics basically breaks down your site traffic to determine what days, posts, pages and so on drew the most traffic.

The post reminded me of the shift in copy-editor education and workload during my last semester at the Kansan. For several semesters before, uploading Web content had been the domain of a nightly Web producer. Having done it myself, I can say that it was a pretty thankless job. Also, I kind of had to sit in the corner of the newsroom when I did it, something that kind of stung…

During my second semester as managing editor, we took a new tack and upgraded the Web producers’ jobs to more multimedia-based work, “hiring” students in the online reporting class. The job of uploading nightly Web content fell to the copy desk, which I’d worked on the previous semester.

Before the semester began, I typed up a (ridiculously minute) step-by-step guide for every copy editor. It was basically a crash course in Ellington, our CMS. I tried to think of every pop-up error and red flag that had ever plagued me, and gave troubleshooting instructions on how to fix it. How to set the time stamp? In there. Correcting a rogue ampersand? Done. Priority levels? Check.

The biggest issue was selling the idea to the copy editors. Why should they have to do this when someone else had always done it before? Cue my spiel about online priorities, well-written Web heads, the need to be flexible, the need to think beyond the print medium and, most importantly, the fact that they were going to do it as part of their grade.

After almost three straight weeks in the newsroom every night training the copy desk, I finally trusted them to help each other and fly solo. By the end of the semester, most of them had it down cold, several of them told me they preferred Web uploading to their actual editing duties and the midnight, panicky phone calls had stopped.

While I’m sure most of them saw the work as tedious (occasionally), difficult (when the system was pissy), beneath them (not really) or boring (guilty), they all left their editing class with something to add to their CVs: They had experience using a CMS, knew basic HTML and could write a Web head that would land on the top of a Google search. And I daresay those things will come in handy during their job searches, more so than even their (gasp!) print-based editing.