In May, the editor of GO Magazine (the US’s most widely read free lesbian publication) contacted me about their annual issue featuring “100 Women We Love,” focusing on “out lesbian or queer women doing amazing things.” A subscriber to Upwell’s Tide Report, she was familiar with our work to make the ocean famous on the internet, and with my love for sharks. She called herself a “secret admirer,” to which I kind of melted.
A month later, I was featured in the magazine.
Fuck yeah! I was thrilled to be listed in the ranks of such inspirational queer women.
I bought my first tablet (an iPad mini) last fall. It was an impulse purchase after I did some hard overtime working and had a small stack of dollars to spend on myself. An unusual occurrence. I’ve been surprised so far at its utility, and at my own frequency of use. I’m writing this blog post from it, in fact. It’s somewhat difficult, with squidgey buttons, but it’s lighter and cooler on my lap, so there’s that.
With this purchase came a new phase in my life: that of the ebook. I use the Kindle and iBooks apps (alternating purchases between the platforms largely due to price differences). I also still read and buy real, tangible books. The kind that can give you papercuts and take up more space in your messenger bag.
I see benefits to both. I realize I’m nowhere near alone in that.
My reasoning is colored by the fact that I am the daughter of an avid book lover and collector.
I learned to love books
Books tower on every wall of my father’s bedroom, stacked in every corner. His dresser looms, a small island in the middle of the room, concealed by turf of more books. And there are more, tons (without exaggeration) stored in the basement of the Institute of Geophysics and Planetary Physics, where my father worked for four decades before retiring earlier this year. Even more stacked in the attic of our home, and in the unoccupied (and currently unlivable) apartment that my grandfather built below my childhood home when I was a small child.
Books everywhere. A mix of the collectible sort with beautiful leather binding and gold edges and the handworn, loved sort — for instance, the Calvin and Hobbes collection with binding creased from all the times in my youth when I would crawl onto my dads bed and crack one open to read with him in the afternoon sun while he tried to nap.
My dad would even take my math textbooks from my sister and I after we finished a year of class, because brushing up on basic calculus was an enviable pastime to this engineer, and how terrible it would be to see those books full of knowledge get discarded.
It has been my dad’s first project of retirement to catalog them all. I fear the size of that database when it’s done.
My father was the type of book lover who admonished the dog-eared corner. I’d hide my penciled-up paperbacks from my English courses from him. To me, it was a method of learning to transcribe experience next to text. To my father, a disrespect of the item.
My dad covered the dust jackets of my well-read hardcover books with the plastic coverings you find on library books. My entire Harry Potter collection sits on the shelf of my San Francisco apartment, reflecting the light. The dust jackets are in mint condition under their crisp sheathes.
So I was raised to have a respect for the printed word. My father had significant influence (though he may not know it) on my decision to major in English in college.
As I’ve been adjusting to this world of ebooks, and enjoying it, loving that I have books with me everywhere, even if I didn’t think to pack them with me when I walked out the door, I’ve had that small pang of guilt.
What has helped has been a deliberate and inquisitive look into the ways my consumption of tangible and e-books differ. This is still evolving, but here are some of my initial inclinations:
I’ll still buy beautiful books, to touch and hold. Vintage illustrated encyclopedias. Children’s books that are meant to be wide, thin, and tactile. Large-format overpriced Taschen books bound in cloth. They mostly don’t exist as ebooks, because why.
I will buy books to support authors I know and hold in esteem, especially if they are “small time.” The other night, at the Green Arcade bookstore on Market (which you should patronize, if you get a chance), I was attending a meeting of folks to strategize around getting SF to divest from fossil fuels. Rebecca Solnit, a long time SF resident, activist and prolific author was there, and I was so delighted to make her acquaintance, and support her (and Green Arcade) right then and there by purchasing her gorgeous anthropological masterpiece, Infinite City. She signed it: “To Rachel, the cool.” There’s not much to describe the feeling of reading that.
I feel a unique sense of anxiety about ebooks. There are admittedly more books on my shelves that I’ve never read than those that I have (I have this tendency to give away books once I’ve read them, and never see them again). But I never stare at my shelves and feel the weight of those unturned pages. Owning the books carries its own sort of personal satisfaction. They decorate space, and are such patient waiters.
Conversely, the ebooks on my Kindle shelf, while light as air and invisible to the eye until sought out, have this strange weight of utility. “I downloaded you so I could read you. You serve no other purpose,” I think. I must finish them because they are waiting for me. It’s a magnified version of the feeling I have when looking at the significant unread count in my Google Reader (sniff sniff), or every time I hit the “save to Pocket” link in my browser. These words are queued up. No one likes waiting in line.
The ebook is preferable when I’m in learning mode. If you were to take a look at my Kindle bookshelf, you’d probably get a good idea of the world in which I work: Here Comes Everybody by Clay Shirky; Republic, Lost by Lawrence Lessig; The Signal and the Noise by Nate Silver; Contagious by Jonah Berger; and so on. It’s helpful to be able to highlight passages and refer back to them easily later at the touch of a few buttons. Particularly if the moment when I might need to do that is impossible to predict (even for Nate Silver).
I’m finding increased utility for ereaders’ search functions for novels too, but haven’t yet given in fully. But for those kinds of books with a million characters and innumerable parallel story lines, the ability to quickly find out when someone was first introduced, and be reminded, “oh yeah, that’s one of the Riders of Rohan” is quite handy. Like with many of the ways technology has made tasks in our life easier and more automated, I feel a hesitance: do I embrace this new laziness? Is it tainting the authentic experience? What is the cost of such passivity? As I said, I’m not sold.
I feel weird taking my iPad in the bathroom, or to the beach. There’s still a need in this life for books that can go to unsavory or messy places, or can afford to get lost or be left behind in a hostel.
I’m reading more, now that I have an iPad. It’s inarguable, and simple. I’m a more voracious reader, now that its so much easier to have books with me, and buy them at a moment’s notice. I like this.
These are just some of my initial thoughts. There are more to come, as I wrestle with my love for the printed word, my geekery, and nostalgia. It will be an interesting few years, watching how this little glowy device changes my reading habits while I watch my father sort through and remember each and every book he’s collected.
A few weeks back, I was delighted to hear from the California Academy of Sciences that they were producing an educational video for online outreach and their exhibits about ocean acidification. Ocean acidification, dubbed “osteoporosis of the sea” and “climate change’s evil twin” by NOAA’s previous administrator, Jane Lubchenco, is a process that is happening now: the CO2 we are emitting is being absorbed by our oceans like water into a sponge. Scientists used to think this absorption would help mitigate the climate problems CO2 brings, but ocean scientists have bad news to deliver: the oceans can’t handle it.
This is bad news, but in my usual style, I find the silver lining. We know exactly what’s causing this problem, and we know exactly how to fix it: stop burning fossil fuels. I was glad to deliver that message for the Academy’s video (check me out, starting at 3:00), and hope it will inspire others to use their voice to speak up for our oceans – the lifeblood of our planet that lack a voice.
Another silver lining that inspires me is the growing level of conversation online about ocean acidification. A few years back, I was working with organizations that wanted to get the word out, but didn’t know where to start, because ocean acidification wasn’t even on the radar. The landscape has changed. People are talking about it.
Twitter mentions of ocean acidification, June 2010 – March 2013
The conversation on Twitter is growing, but is still quite “spikey.” This means that there is still a relatively low baseline of ongoing conversation, but scientific reports and news media coverage are increasing, and bringing this issue into the public eye on a more regular basis. At Upwell, we believe that by causing more ongoing spikes in a conversation, we can increase attention to an issue and ultimately raise that overall baseline. (see more about our methods and conversational data analysis on our blog.)
We can’t rest on our laurels. Environmental and political need to keep bringing attention to this issue. If Bill McKibben thinks it’s the worst problem we’re not talking about, something tells me we’ve got work to do.
Today is “Giving Tuesday” – the charitable world’s response to consumerism-focused days like Black Friday and Cyber Monday. I’m getting a lot of donation appeals in my inbox from an array of worthy causes. Instead of going off on a rant about why I think that’s a shallow approach to what could be a really thoughtful day of community and movement-building, I’ll just tell you why I give.
I give back to communities and organizations that have given or provide for me. I give when my friends ask me to give, because it takes time and risk to ask your friends for money, and I know my friends only do that for worthwhile causes. I give to small organizations because I know that living on a grant-to-grant cycle can suck up a lot of time and energy that could be better spent on world-making. I give to artists and entrepreneurs because they inspire me with their ideas, and most of the people and companies with deep pockets never inspire me, or have stopped inspiring me long ago. I give because I have money to give – not because I feel like I’m rolling in cash, but because I’m doing far better than most of the billions of people on this planet, and despite my very best efforts, I’m probably destroying the planet quicker than them too.
I’m experimenting daily with crazy campaign ideas at Upwell, and with all that I’m learning, wanted to share some of it with you here. In this first installment, some tips on using social media to promote marine/ocean issues. The basic social media lessons go without saying. I am a fan of transparency, immediacy, reciprocity. But there are unique challenges in this field – advocating for something that is hard for most of us to see, feel and touch. Explaining the myriad complicated issues that are bound to exist in such a diverse ecosystem. And moving beyond our fascination with charismatic megafauna to inspire action around the less cute or sexy issues, like ocean acidification, marine protected areas, and forage fish.
This is not an exhaustive list, just a few things that have been… swimming in my head recently.
1. Communicate based on shared values, not shared knowledge.
The ocean is so big, so vast, there are so many things that you can know about, and after years of campaigning in this space I still learn stuff everyday, so how can I expect to get massive amounts of social media traction on something that requires baseline knowledge about an ocean conservation issue?
Tap into an emotion we all share, as opposed to tapping into a specific set of knowledge that only a portion of people have. When thinking about how to campaign with social media around ocean issues, you have to understand that there is a lack of knowledge. When you’re campaigning on women’s issues, you’re not fighting that same information deficit. There is a base of knowledge, even if there isn’t a base of activism. When it comes to ocean issues, the knowledge and activism circles are pretty much one and the same.
One of the most creative ways to get people to share, to get a message to spread farther is how can we compare the ocean to things we take for granted in our everyday lives. Tap into our basic human nature, and the things that drive our daily decisions as opposed to into some pre-existing ocean ethic, which is not as widespread.
What else gets mislabeled in the world that people do know about?
2. Use people’s love of the ocean to inspire them to act.
Everybody loves the ocean. Even if we’re not all ocean conservationists, people innately love the ocean, even it they’re scared of it. Even if they won’t swim in it, they love it. People love putting whales on T-shirts and shells in bathrooms. The ocean is part of our everyday existence. It has a good aesthetic. It’s beautiful.
The idea of abundance is deeply set in our culture. People believe that the ocean is abundant, that coral reefs are lively and colorful all over the world, and that our oceans are full of fish. There is a doom and gloom aspect in working in this field which makes you want to say, ‘Actually, we’re killing all the fish and all the coral reefs are dying,’ but like we did with Shark Week, it’s really important to meet people where they are. If they’re already thinking from a frame of abundance, hammering them with a message that things are dying is not something they’re going to want to share.
As much as we can use enthusiasm and love for ocean life to activate people, rather than a message of death and gloom, I think that that is much more powerful. We saw it happen during Shark Week. There were so many people who were excited about sharks. Sharks are awe-inspiring, and if you can acknowledge that, while also taking an opportunity to talk about the threats that face sharks, and use messages of awesomeness and abundance, you’re creating community with people who feel that way. If they see you as part of their community, and as sharing some kind of aesthetic, or personal, or moral value, then they’re that much more likely to listen to what you have to say. You have to establish a lot of common ground with people.
If you’ve got a Facebook Page and all you’re posting are negative things, you’re not going to get a lot of likes. You’ve got to celebrate what’s wonderful about the ocean in order to get people to understand that there’s something worth saving.
3. Embrace the meme. Combine images and text.
Memes are driving the discussion. People are engaging intellectually via memes. It’s not a vapid thing.
4. Look to other causes for inspiration
Just because we believe our issue is special, and especially important, doesn’t mean we are interacting with a different Internet than the rest of the nonprofit world. Look at what the Humane Society is doing. Look at what Human Rights Watch is doing. Some of the cutting edge nonprofits are doing social media work. You can just copy what they’re doing for ocean issues.
I was sorting through email on a flight the other day and started thinking about all the subject lines I was seeing. Quickly jotted this down before we landed in LA.
Over time, the difference between paid and organic content, between mission/brand-oriented and unaffiliated-human-created content, has become more and more blurred. (By paid content I mean not only traditional “paid media” – i.e. advertisements – but also content placed by paid employees – social marketing and content created by employees for their employers’ online presences.)
Advertisements use social language. Presidential campaigns send email blasts with the subject line “Hey.” Nonprofit organizations create photo petitions and video contests so they can hear and feature the voices of their supporters. Organizations, businesses and individuals who are spending money or paid time on social content are trying more and more to approximate our authentic social language.
With that, our ability to discern between paid and organic content has also evolved. I can tell spam from a mile away. And as much as President Obama’s campaign team tries to become the embodiment of a “friend,” I’m never fooled by their “friendly” language. We are evolving with new media, marketing and campaign strategies. Our personal boundaries, while they seem to be disintegrating with the increasing transparency of the social web, are in fact staying as solid as ever.
So what is the takeaway for the creators of paid content? I don’t believe that steering toward conversational tone is misleading or misguided. Neither do I believe that this content is 100% inauthentic. I’m sure our President does say “hey” from time to time, and I know several of the individuals who manage the social media properties of national NGOs, and I can assure you the tone of those properties reflects their individual personalities.
No – we shouldn’t steer away from this trend. It reflects increasing transparency in institutions, and, by extension, reflects increased opportunity for impact and engagement on behalf of the consumer/supporter/subscriber. But with this shift toward transparency, we mustn’t lose true authenticity. I don’t buy the “Hey” messages not because I don’t support Obama (I do), but because I know it’s actually not Obama saying “hey.” But when I see a tweet from NWF saying “hey” I know exactly which staff person that’s probably coming from.
If you are going to project authenticity, be authentic. Or else your efforts will come across as thinly as a 1950′s advertisement for a pack of cigarettes (“Great for your health!”).
“’We despise,’ says the objectors, ‘ any man from whom bodily pain extorts a shriek. Ay, but not always; not for the first time, nor if we see that the sufferer strains every nerve to stifle the expression of his pain; not if we know him otherwise to be a man of firmness; still less if we witness evidences of his firmness in the very midst of his sufferings, and observe that, although pain may have extorted a shriek, it has extorted nothing else from him, but that on the contrary he submits to he prologation of his pain rather than renounce one iota of his resolutions, even where such a concession would promise him the termination of his misery.’”
From “The Wound and the Bow,” an essay by Edmund Wilson regarding Sophocles’ play Philoctetes.
Climate activist group 350 had a twitterstorm for Rio+20. In the world of climate change, ocean acidification is one of the scariest impacts that I try day in and day out to get people to understand. Hooking into the twitterstorm and playing off the classic “This is Your Brain on Drugs” PSA, I put this together.
The image was shared hundreds of times, and got thousands of views and hundreds of thousands of impressions on Twitter.
Lessons learned: You have to be visual. You have to hook into an existing conversation. Keep it simple. Embrace urgency.
excerpted from The Best American Fax from Don DiLillo, in The Best American Nonrequired Reading 2011.
…Will language have the same depth and richness in electronic form that it can reach on the printed page? Does the beauty and variability of our language depend to an important degree on the medium that carries the words? Does poetry need paper?
Read on paper, in a book. excerpted into electronic form, arguably losing more than literal weight.
A letter from John Steinbeck to his eldest son Thom, in response to the teenage boy’s letter confessing that he has fallen desperately in love with a girl named Susan while at boarding school. via Brain Pickings.
November 10, 1958
We had your letter this morning. I will answer it from my point of view and of course Elaine will from hers.
First — if you are in love — that’s a good thing — that’s about the best thing that can happen to anyone. Don’t let anyone make it small or light to you.
Second — There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you — of kindness and consideration and respect — not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn’t know you had.
You say this is not puppy love. If you feel so deeply — of course it isn’t puppy love.
But I don’t think you were asking me what you feel. You know better than anyone. What you wanted me to help you with is what to do about it — and that I can tell you.
Glory in it for one thing and be very glad and grateful for it.
The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it.
If you love someone — there is no possible harm in saying so — only you must remember that some people are very shy and sometimes the saying must take that shyness into consideration.
Girls have a way of knowing or feeling what you feel, but they usually like to hear it also.
It sometimes happens that what you feel is not returned for one reason or another — but that does not make your feeling less valuable and good.
Lastly, I know your feeling because I have it and I’m glad you have it.
We will be glad to meet Susan. She will be very welcome. But Elaine will make all such arrangements because that is her province and she will be very glad to. She knows about love too and maybe she can give you more help than I can.
And don’t worry about losing. If it is right, it happens — The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.
I am a writer, a researcher, a web native.
I help organizations better communicate for a cause.
I'm an ocean lover, a shark enthusiast, a diver, rower and tidepool lurker.
I am a strategic planner, a fast learner, a huge geek, and a detail freak.
I like when smart words meet smart design.