——

There's a PaperCamp heading to a city near you. If that city happens to be New York, anyway. One in San Francisco is being mooted, with maybe more to come elsewhere. You could always set one up yourself… Yes, you.

——

Further to the questions I asked at the end of this post on creating new readers, I found Pete's suggestions on local blogs helping local business full of useful ideas and information, and a possible approach to getting started that we hadn't considered, especially his last point:

"Above all, start small. Don’t try and run a local media outlet from the outset. Gradually build to being a local media outlet as you add more people to the team. If you just have 5 or 10 posts a week that’ll be fine. Once people know there’s a venue for their news they’ll bring it to you."

Maybe that's the best way to start a UK version of the 826 National; find a community centre or something with an attached cafe and begin small, rather than trying to find ways to set up a shop with no capital. Another interesting model is the one that the LUC guys used last year, using a market stall for outreach, and getting beyond the usual market of people who would buy and read comics. Might be something to look into (though maybe later in the year when there's no need to stand around all day in the freezing cold). It could be a good place to start selling crazily-themed toys and stuff to make money for the project, though, rather than trying to rent a shop. Once the things have been designed and made, of course.

One thing I've been learning is that it's better to start small and have something to show, than to wait for someone to bring you something big. It's the same attitude Pete mentions in point 9 that made me ask "what next?" immediately during the session on Saturday. Lots of people at these things say, "wouldn't it be great if…?" or, "someone should do something like…" and everyone says, "oh yeah, great idea!" but half the time you know they're all thinking, "as long as I don't have to do it."

One really simple place to start could be to set up a blog, with all the people who attended the session invited to have posting permission if they wanted to continue the discussion/brainstorming — that way, no one person is entirely responsible for trying to get the thing off the ground all on their own (I don't want to wrest control away from Kevin, since it was his idea, but I'm pretty sure he would be keen to have the collaborative input, as it's a pretty daunting idea to have to undertake all on your own). Plus, other people who want to get involved with the discussion have a place where they can take their own comments and ideas, and somewhere to link back to in order to spread the information. It might even give an idea of how much interest there would actually be in a project like this, outside of a small group of book geeks. (Probably quite a lot, but I suspect most of it will take the attitude mentioned above, that they'll be interested as long as someone else is doing the work.)

As I said after Amplified last year, all the really interesting conversations were going to take place outside of the realm of the main event(s). The only trouble with that, even though I expected it, is that it's all too easy to lose track of where the conversations are and what action is being taken. I guess Kevin's idea was the first one that got me excited enough to want to do something (or at least suggest something) proactive myself, instead of doing the usual thing of waiting for someone else to do something (or suggest something).

So: a dedicated blog might be a useful place to dump ideas and get discussion flowing. What do you think? I think one of the first things is to find a good, catchy name for the project rather than just "826 wannabe" — any suggestions? (And apologies to Kevin for posting this here without discussing it with him first, but hopefully it's at least an idea he'll think worth considering.)

- physicality
- fixity
- boundedness
- authority
- universality

The physical shape of books is underlined by the cost of production and thinking in units — how many you can fit into a shipping box or bookshelf. Books as physical objects are bought and sold by unit, so making money from copyright is logical, but if you are selling content on the web which is not confined by physical shape, you need to find new business models.

There was a pretty interesting discussion generated from this, with some useful input from Cory Doctorow who provided legally recognised definitions when we were struggling to define ideas, but sadly had to leave halfway through to do his share of looking after the baby (which was disappointing for the session, but also lovely for his wife, I think). I was taking part in the discussion quite a lot myself, so my notes from this point don't make a lot of sense, but here are some of Mary's ideas I wrote down:

Web-based stuff "almost needs redundancy" to make it believable. There is always something more interesting to look at on the internet, which incurs the need for short, tactical posts to grab the attention. Printed matter conveys authority; even vanity publishing conveys more authority than online writing if the printed word is considered more valid than non-print. An interesting example of publishers who confer status is science publisher Nature who don't even pay their authors, because getting published by them confers so much status that writers don't mind (which could actually be the biggest scam around, if you stop to think about it!)

Instead of fixity on the web, there's version control, but even (for example) the Wayback Machine is an unreliable record of what went before. "People don't publish for posterity; they publish to share" so it doesn't seem to matter to them that it disappears after a while. There has to be a space for people to engage with the work or it's not going to work.

This stuff makes sense to me, but there were some ideas that I didn't agree with because they oversimplified into an either/or scenario that was a bit didactic. For example, the idea that "the web is searchable which makes knowledge ambiguous" seemed specious, as libraries are searchable, too; full of physical books that can be referred to on every subject). The idea that, online, "you have to write as a character" is another one I have to take issue with, as there are no hard and fast rules about writing online; you don't have to do anything, and in any case most print-based writing is often done with a specific tone or "voice" that represents the character of the author, so it's not just limited to web-based writing.

There was also a brief look at the interesting development of formerly analogue material that has been digitised and then turned back into analogue material, with the amazing BibliOdyssey blog cited as an example, which amused me, considering the way people had been venerating the written word over imagery, as it's very image-heavy, basically an art gallery of a blog. Curated by the mysterious peacay, who hunts through online archives to find interesting illustrations and posts them on the blog, a selection of which have now been collected in a lovely hardcover book published by FUEL (I was lusting after it just before Christmas, and almost bought it for my mum just so that I could have access to it myself!).

This was another great session inspiring me to think about lots of good stuff, although I am sad that attending it meant that I missed some interesting presentations upstairs at PaperCamp, especially Sawa Tanaka's incredible illustration work with edible paper, glow-in-the-dark ink and thermochromatic ink, which sounds amazing.

The venue. There really wasn't enough space in the Match Bar to comfortably mingle, causing everyone to either bottleneck uncomfortably in the middle of one long section, or else to get stuck 'round tables in The Bridge area (that's what they call it), where there wasn't really enough room to mix it up. As a result, it seemed that there was a lot of sticking with people you already knew instead of really mixing it up.

The cocktails. And here I'm going to get pedantic again, so if you don't care about well-made cocktails, just skip this bit. Firstly, their Bellini is too sweet, needing a bit more cava to cut the sickliness of the fruit (and, to be extremely pedantic, the "strawberry Bellini" they gave me is more correctly called a Rossini). Secondly, they claim that their American cocktail advisor invented the Bramble cocktail, when in fact it is a very English invention using very English ingredients. The Match Bar version is tangy and refreshing, but with too much lemon juice it's not as accurate as it should have been. (Sorry to get pedantic again, but if you're going to lay claim to the credit you could at least get the bloody thing right!)

The people. Although I was mostly catching up with people I already knew, I did meet some nice new people. Unfortunately, I was a bit too spaced to remember who they all were (should have eaten something). If you're reading this, say hi!

The pants. Why? I mean, srsly, why? Nope.

The goodie bags. More to the point, the fact that I don't want any of this stuff and now I don't know what to do with it! Not because I'm a prude, but because I already have the stuff I need (I'm not stupid), and this looks like it's just going to end up getting chucked. Makes you wonder just how much landfill is taken up by unwanted sex accoutrements, eh?

The bloke dressed as a ringmaster. Again, why? We still don't know. Or who he was. Anyone have any ideas?

Hmmm… Looks like I had a lot to say, after all.

Us Now is not a perfect film, and it runs the danger of preaching to the already-converted and those in-the-know. Pundits are sometimes captioned with job titles or company names that have no context unless you already know who they are (which is a hell of an assumption to make of your audience), so that there's no explanation as to why they should be a particular authority over anyone else, and captions often don't linger on the screen long enough to read them, anyway. The narrative voice can be confusing; voiceovers are sometimes made with certain authority, but with no indication as to whose authority it is (which was particularly noticeable during the Conservative Party section, for some reason). And, obviously, the film doesn't cover everything. Each of the examples used in the film could easily warrant its own individual documentary, a fact which director Ivo Gormley readily acknowledges.

However, it's got a positive outlook and is eager to look to the future, to see what wonderful things might happen next, something that most of the people taking part in the post-screening Q&A session were not. It was unfortunate that the overwhelmingly positive message of the film was completely negated by the nay-sayers who dominated the Q&A, moaning about all the things that the film wasn't about, instead of appreciating it for the small celebration it is. The essential message of the film is that there are tools (blogging, forums, social networks etc.) which are easily available and can empower you to make change yourself; you don't have to wait for someone else to get the ball rolling for you. The people who complained about all the things missing from the film were themselves missing the point: instead of sitting in a cinema enjoying (or not enjoying) a film screening that someone else had generously provided for free, and then moaning about it, they could use those same tools to get their own agenda heard in the communities which support it, and do something creative and positive instead of complaining that no one else has done it for them. But what can you expect from people who insist on spending all their time only focussing on everything that is wrong with the world, instead of reaching for the celebratory once in a while?

On Tuesday night I went to the Webby Night at the ICA, which was quite fun. The nice Webbies people provided us with free booze, though I also recall drinking rounds of hot rum and lemon, and eating stolen gingerbread cookies (NB. I did not do the stealing).

Due to finding out about the event so much at the last minute that it was already in progress, I managed to miss most of the presentations, including the two by people I actually knew. I expect they all would have paled into insignificance next to the revelation that the nice fellow I met at the Moo summer party, the one who said I looked familiar but neither of us could work out where from, was in fact right, but we'd met way back at a time that neither of us had actually considered. It was half a lifetime ago, in a different city; I was at a party where I didn't know anyone and a nice boy cheered me up by telling me about his newest favourite band. Who could have predicted he'd have ended up running a successful internet start-up with one of my pals from London's old school blogerati? Isn't the internet brilliant?

According to the post-it note I found on my bedside table on Wednesday morning, which I had obviously written before I poured myself into bed the night before, I may also have agreed to buy Matt a gorilla suit ("bonobo stylee"):

But neither of us can remember why he wanted a gorilla suit in the first place. (The Bagpuss postcard on the table relates to the post on Oliver Postgate and Rowland Emett that I haven't got around to writing yet, and at this point probably won't do until the new year…)

I went to the launch party for 2gether09 at The Hub on York Way on Wednesday night. I'd been past the venue a couple of times, but never been inside. It's rather nice; a reclaimed Victorian warehouse kitted out with lots of modern fixtures and fittings and a nice vaulted wooden ceiling.

The wine flowed freely, and so did the conversation. I wasn't just there for the free booze, though; I met some interesting people and heard a couple of useful speeches. I had an amusing conversation with a man who heads up a social media company but doesn't actually often participate in the social part of it himself. He seemed surprised that the active social aspect of the networking can ever be useful, as though it had never actually occurred to him that you could make new and interesting connections in a non-traditional work environment, which struck me as funny. Firstly because, well, he's been making a living from social media without even understanding the full potential of the media he's been using, and apparently he'd never even given it much consideration, which is deeply ironic. Secondly because the conversation we had led him to reconsider things and look at his views in new, different directions, which is exactly what the non-traditional work environment of social media is so bloody good for. Job done there, I think.

There was also a fun conversation about Web 2.0 and Web 3.0. We tried to work out which iteration of the web we're now at, because surely we've come quite a long way past Web 2.0 and must be at least at Web 2.6 by now. We agreed we're not yet at Web 3.0 because although the internets¹ are much more social and there is loads more UGC, we've not yet reached the point where events such as 2gether09, Amplified, TED, SXSWi etc. are no longer full of techy people talking about how to get non-techy people enabled, and are in fact split evenly between the techy and the non-techy. We reckon that time is not all that far off, though. Increasingly there are more people turning up in the web environment; teachers and nurses and ecologists and civil servants and so on. It's not just that they're turning up, obviously, because all sorts of people have been using the web since it became publicly available. The crucial point is that these people are now being listened to and having an active effect on making change in their communities.

People like William Perrin, who gave a really inspiring talk on Wednesday night. He's a local King's Cross resident who, getting increasingly fed up with people treating the area like a toilet — junkies leaving needles and prostitutes picking up punters etc. — decided to try and do something about it, and started kingscrossenvironment.com for local people to get active and change their neighbourhood for the better.

Since starting the website, most of the problems have gone away (of course, in many cases, that often means another neighbourhood has to deal with them, but of course you can't win everything, or solve all these problems overnight). He said that on a daily basis more people look at the website than listen to Radio 3 or buy the Guardian (who have just moved into their swanky new offices a couple of blocks up the road from The Hub). There's a solid network of local people reporting about local issues that directly effect their community, and enough people read the site to do something constructive about it, which is very inspiring. I've been getting increasingly interested in the way social media can be used for positive change² at a really localised level for communities, and it's always great to hear about the success stories where it goes right and is proven to be very easy.

King's Place, photo taken in June 2008

I missed 2gether08, due to only hearing about it a week or so before it happened, and being busy, but I'm already looking forward to 2gether09. It's working on much the same principle as Amplified, having several small events leading up to the main one, and with the same kind of enthusiastic forward-thinking keen to take social media and web tools out beyond its current peripheries, which could be quite exciting. They're looking for interesting people to come and talk about interesting things, and they seem eager to get people who are also beyond the usual peripheries. I can think of several people reading this, who don't work for internet companies or spend all their time hanging out with bloggers, who might have something amazing to contribute. So bear in mind that I may try my hand at persuading you to get involved with 2gether09 as well. It should be good.

¹I can't remember who it was who said that this term is increasingly accurate because of the nationwide firewalls cropping up across the world, creating individual internets on the worldwideweb. I read it in and interview in New Scientist (or possibly Wired) a couple of years ago — anyone else remember who it was?

²As must be obvious from all these social media related posts. I promise I'll get back to posting about pop culture as well soon.

It really reminded me of that "state of the union" panel they have at every single comics convention. You know the one, it starts off all fired-up about whichever brand-new publishing ventures are around that month, and it's all fresh and exciting and enthusiastic and overwhelmingly positive, then always, but always descends into arguments about how to get people who don't read comics to start reading comics. And it always, but always ends up with exactly the same suggestions coming around and being shouted down. Everyone has their own favourites and their own dislikes which are someone else's favourites and people are so busy arguing the merits of which is better that they lose track of the initial positivity and the actual methods of outreach. This session was just like that, only people were arguing over which social network was better instead of which comic. And although there were a few really interesting points to be made, they kind of got lost in the noise.

One of the issues raised was how to train younger people to utilise social networks to maximise their potential for when they leave school¹, which kind of struck me as a bit unnecessary because if anyone knows how to use social networking, it's people who've grown up with internet culture being a part of their entire lives. Kids in school now can't remember a time without the internet, and are pretty savvy about how to use it. I was interested to learn that Facebook's terms of service apparently exclude children under the age of 18 who aren't in formal education, though. Is that because Facebook is worried about potential paedophiles who'd sign up as children, and couldn't be verified because they're not on school records? That makes sense, although, as someone pointed out, do things like that mean that terms of service are replacing human rights? I would have loved for that discussion to have continued, but someone hijacked it and started banging on about something else, and then proceeded to dominate the rest of the session without giving anyone else much of a look-in. By that point, my attention started to wander and I started thinking about dinner…

¹There was an entire session about Youth and Social Media which apparently focussed a lot on this issue. According to Utku, even he was older than the age group that session focussed on, and he's only just in his twenties!

Both games were quite silly and seemed a bit pointless even though they made us all relaxed by making us laugh. However, as Johnnie said, the making us laugh bit was important, because having fun playing games can create more sense of engagement than "important" discussions. (I certainly noticed this in the third session I went to, which really could have done with a bit of fun injected into the room to lighten it up a little. More on that one in the next post.)

The first game was called "noise ball" where people stand in a circle and throw an imaginary ball and make an accompanying (often very silly) sound. When you catch the ball, you have to remember to say their sound as well as make your own. Afterwards, we all noticed how much your attention gets divided between thinking of a good noise, following the "ball" and remembering the previous noise before your throw, which parallels the way your attention can get divided whilst juggling things when you're multi-tasking. This became even more apparent when a second "ball" was introduced into the game, and we realised that you had to actually stop thinking so much about what noise you were going to make, and pay more attention to what other people in the group were doing and where the "balls" were. As I twittered at the time (quoting Johnnie again), "It's less about delivering and more about being prepared to receive, " which goes back to the "two ears one mouth" principle.¹

This is the principle that was suggested by Toby Moores right at the beginning of the event¹, and the game was a brilliant active reminder to reinforce it, so despite my initial reluctance to join in I'm glad that I did. I wish more people had played it, actually, because there were quite a few who seemed to have forgotten that they were there to listen and not just talk (again, I must mention the last session I attended.)

The second game was also good fun and pretty interesting, psychologically. Two people take it in turns to draw the features of a face, and after that, they each add letters to name the person they've drawn. (You can see them all here.) What struck me about it was the way me and my partner kept avoiding certain features as though we were trying to force the other person into drawing them, which was something that several other people mentioned as well. In fact, this was so acute in our first drawing that we ended up with one of those carny half-man half-woman people, complete with beauty mole, lipstick and only half a moustache, all because my partner kept shying away from drawing the other half of the moustache. Well, having drawn one half of the moustache, I wanted a go at some other features like an eye, an ear, a necklace, an eyebrow; I didn't want to be stuck doing the same thing again! I found that really interesting, too. Perhaps that is quite reflective of how I work. It's true I do like starting things and then get bored or dispirited and go off to start something exciting and new.

So it was a useful session for me, personally. I don't know how useful it was overall, but I think it's always good to be reminded that sometimes it's good to do things which don't seem important so you can see what is important. And it's important to make the work fun.

¹ and one espoused by Abram Games, as I recently mentioned at the bottom of this post.

Unfortunately, the session was a little disappointing in that the discussion was just getting really interesting when we had to stop and move onto the second round of sessions. However, since it's already an active topic in the blogosphere, I see no reason why it shouldn't just continue it there.

One thing that we didn't have time to discuss properly at the panel is that it's not just about text-based books, of course, so much as traditionally printed matter generally. Joanna Geary has been raising the issue of the future of newspapers over on her blog quite a lot lately. She makes a great point in a recent post on the subject here:

"The people who queued outside The Washington Post for their special edition on Obama's victory would tell you there was a value to print and it has been argued that this is proof that newspaper is still the format of choice for important events. "People didn’t print out the news on their computers", goes the argument. [...]
What it does prove is that there is an innate value placed on print that is not just defined by efficiency or speed of delivery. There is something valuable about it as an object [...] Digital is, at the moment, still considered too transient a medium for keepsakes."

This is also something that's come up in relation to comics recently, as well. Last week I had a brief chat with Doctoe about the potential of interactive online comics — stuff along the lines of what Daniel Merlin Goodbrey does with his hypercomics, which opens up a whole new way of reading — and writing for — that particular medium.

In fact, every form of traditional printed matter is affected, and it's having an effect on the way we communicate with each other already. As one example, just look at how many times a printed advert will refer you to the website for proper, complete information rather than display it on the advert itself (TfL do it an awful lot, for example. And then have completely contradictory information).

One of the issues raised in the session that I did find really intriguing was the notion of how to create spaces for readers/viewers to actively feed back into the original work, not just saying if they liked it or not, but actually collaborating and creating new things off the buzz of the initial idea. A guy called Richard Galbraith (thank you, name-tags) said that he is currently "alpha-publishing" his novel as a PDF available on his blog so that people can collaborate via feedback, providing illustrations and a soundtrack. He has the idea that when finally published, the book can come with a USB stick to contain the music/image files, plus having a launch party with an exhibition and a gig. That sounds like a great way to utilise social media and old school media without either one of them having to be considered as "lesser" than the other, and also a wonderful way to keep the buzz alive and organically growing, especially if each collaborant¹ also opens up their own work to active feedback via their own blogs.

This also raised the idea that there is a new model for publishing which is emerging, as more people are taking control of their own work and its destination, instead of all trying to cram through one tiny gateway into the world of established publishing. The question is whether people have already forgotten about the previous model, and whether we even need it anymore, or whether it's worth holding onto it to learn from where it went wrong (which is always something to consider whatever the medium).

There's also a really good report of this session up on girlygeekdom.

¹I know there's no such word, and really the correct word is collaborationist, but I think my version is more elegant, don't you?

A lack of focus was to be expected, though, for a couple of reasons. Firstly, it was being run along the unconference principle, which can be more erratic than conventional events — "organising without organisations" as Clay Shirky put it. Secondly, and perhaps more important to remember, it was only the very first event of an ongoing social experiment (for want of a better term), where one of the main principles is to learn from mistakes and find new ways to do things.

That willingness to be open to making mistakes in order to learn from them is kind of fun and exciting to be a part of, anyway. I know some people find that a lack of distinct focus can be frustrating (myself included, actually), but it also means that there is more of a chance for some brilliant idea to come completely out of the blue and sweep us all off our feet, as they're not all trying to cram through one tiny gateway¹. As one of the organisers, Toby Moores, said, "We are becoming agents of change. We are the ones that can make it happen."²

Or, to put in another way, coming out of the "Less Talk, More Play" session run by Johnnie Moore (reviewed in a bit), and paraphrased by me in this twitterpost: "an activity which seems inconsequential can be important because it's all about relationships and roles, and mixing it up for new ideas."

A "Network of Networks" event like this, which brought together over 40 UK networks and social groups into one place — not to mention all the people from around the world who followed it online — is certainly going to be a useful one for mixing it up and getting new ideas.

I know there's been quite a lot of feedback (mostly via Twitter or on the wiki) from people complaining that the lack of focus was frustrating in the sessions because it seems as though nothing is going to actually get done, but I think you have to remember that throughout history some of the greatest ideas have been the ones started outside of official parameters, the ones that start in the bar after the main event is all over. As James Whatley noted, the most useful sessions can often be the ones that pop up outside the prearranged parameters. I think there are going to be lots of great ideas coming from all of these interesting people and we're not going to know about all of them to start with because they're not all going to be recorded on video for people to watch online. That's always how it works.

I think, too, that most of those who attended Amp08 are eager to learn from the first one to make the next event in February more successful. I loved the fact that there was so much positivity flying around the place, and that everyone I met was, for the most part, incredibly warm and friendly and welcoming. I know that sounds a bit hippyish, all touchy-feely, but I don't care if you're cynical enough to actually believe that. If you are cynical enough to actually believe that, you ought to get off your high horse and come down here with the rest of us, because it's important to remember that there needs to be an atmosphere of warmth and support to encourage people to break out their ideas without being too scared or embarrassed to do so. As Matt said to me last weekend, "there's nothing wrong with a bit of idealism. Idealism has got a bad rap and it's good to see people reclaiming it for good purpose." (Or something like that; I can't remember it verbatim.)

We're agents of change. We can make it happen. Here's to the future, and here's looking forward to Amp09. Today's World of Tomorrow!³

¹Chris Meade actually used this analogy during the Future of the Book session (reviewed in next post), but I think it's a useful one in many contexts.

²Which suddenly reminds me of the "YES WE CAN" thing from the Barack Obama campaign, which is really cool, because that became "YES WE DID" and it's good to be reminded that not only are we the ones that can make it happen, but sometimes it actually does happen, too.

³aka #twot