Recently I spoke with one hyperlocalist whom I’ll call Loretta for privacy’s sake. Loretta operates a popular hyperlocal website and was invited to join a regional network that shares advertising revenue with its members while collecting a cut for itself. Currently, the network doesn’t have an umbrella site for aggregating its members’ content or directing readers to its members’ respective websites.

Despite that, there are definite advantages to Loretta’s participation in the network. First, this particular network carries name recognition, though it’s still too fresh out of the box to call it a brand. (Details of its business practices couldn’t be confirmed, so it shall remain nameless in this post.) Next, it stretches across an entire region, which should help reel in large advertisers and their large ad budgets. Last, there’s the notion that all boats will rise with the revenue tide, even those that aren’t as seaworthy as the rest of the fleet.

There’s only one thing about this arrangement that makes me leery. Revenue sharing assumes revenue, and when talking about advertising, that usually means page views. This network is so brand-spanking new that it doesn’t yet have an audience of its own and is relying on Loretta’s site and others to drive traffic. In other words, it can’t deliver page views to Loretta’s site. Instead, Loretta’s site will deliver page views to the network, which will then take its cut of the ad revenue.

The way I see it, if Loretta and other hyperlocalists are doing all the work to drive traffic, then they should reap most of the revenue. The network still deserves a cut for using its name and relative size to leverage ad sales, but the fact is, those ad sales won’t happen without the hyperlocalists’ hard-earned page views.

I don’t know the numbers of Loretta’s revenue-sharing arrangement, but I hope she gets her fair share of the deal. Best of luck, Loretta!

Photo courtesy of Flickr user enggul.

However, Buddy was worried about a potential conflict of interest. Might this solitary business investor dictate content to the detriment of his publication’s journalistic integrity? Would this be a deal with the devil?

My advice to him was this: Make the damn deal, but hammer out every detail first. That includes details in one’s business plan, corporate or nonprofit structure, and newsroom hierarchy (even if it’s a newsroom of one). Getting his house in order allows Buddy to spell out his publication’s financial and philosophical objectives to this investor, and it will help both parties understand where the boardroom ends and the newsroom begins.

Next, I suggested that Buddy and his investor test drive this business arrangement on his existing publication. Instead of launching new franchises from scratch, Buddy can apply the investor’s capital to expanding his current news coverage into adjacent neighborhoods, taking advantage of his existing network of local freelance reporters and bloggers. If the expanded coverage proves to be self-sustaining, he can then launch franchises with the same journalistic clout and financial stamina of his original publication.

Buddy’s one investor can also be his greatest cheerleader, encouraging other businesses to invest in or advertise with his original news outlet and new franchise network. After all, a viable hyperlocal news product reflects a neighborhood worthy of investment, something from which area retailers, restaurateurs, employers, homeowners and municipal agencies benefit.

I hope Buddy keeps me up to date on how this business arrangement progresses and whether he’s taken approaches other than what’s mentioned above. In the meantime, hyperlocalists can get help with the nuts, bolts and numbers of their business plans with the Service Corps of Retired Executives (SCORE), a terrific nonprofit group that advises small business owners.

Good luck, Buddy!

Photo courtesy of Flickr user mtsofan.

So it was with great interest that I read this recent article in The New York Times about a startup clothing company that allows its customers to design their own shirts. Shoppers visit the company’s website, pick out colors, patterns and cuff styles, drop some coin and in four weeks, they’re rocking personalized gear.

The company’s success is rooted in its “emotional-value proposition,” says the company’s 22-year-old CEO. (Freakin’ hipster!) Customers play a part in the creative process, and what results is a personalized shirt that oozes individual expression. Okay.

That got me thinking: If consumers will pay to design a shirt, would they pay to participate in hyperlocal content creation? Does the emotional-value proposition apply to hyperlocal news? No and yes.

First, anyone who will pay to generate content is an advertiser. Consumers can usually distinguish an advertisement from editorial content because ads are labeled as such. But when an advertiser’s content is passed off as news, or if the hyperlocalist accepts compensation for creating “advertorial” content, then the news outlet’s objectivity comes into question.

Next, no one should create news content for the purpose of self-expression without fair compensation. That’s what larger media outlets like Forbes.com and The Washington Post call “content for exposure” (or more precisely, content for exploitation), and the practice only dilutes the quality of an organization’s content.

Instead, the emotional-value proposition can apply to opportunities for consumer feedback. A moderated comment section adds tremendous value to a news website. (The same goes for editorial essays printed on paper or broadcast as sound or video.) The opportunity to offer constructive criticism allows news consumers to express interest in their community, and the interaction reflects the news organization’s worth in the community.

That quality is perhaps the strongest selling point when approaching advertisers, sponsors and subscribers. It means that consumers do more than just consume a media outlet’s content. They assign value to it, they incorporate the information into their decision making, they allow it to influence their lives. That kind of quality far outweighs a website’s page views, a newspaper’s circulation or a broadcast outlet’s audience numbers.

The emotional-value proposition also applies to crowd-sourced content, but one should approach that with caution. I’ll get into that tomorrow.

Photo courtesy of Flickr user Kirsten Hartsoch.

I was surprised when, within hours of my article going live, a slew of nasty comments appeared below it in the area reserved for readers to respond.

“You should consider not having any more babies.”

“I feel sorry for her son. Can you imagine going through life with this woman?”

Not every comment was negative. Some were sympathetic, supportive, even touching. But the mean ones — yikes — were they mean.

She explained that the intent of her Times post was not to express how hurt she felt. Instead, she wished to explore “why online commenters are so gratuitously nasty; why, when given the opportunity to have an educated disagreement with an author or other readers, they use the space allotted to spew venom instead of presenting a well-reasoned argument,” she wrote.

But not all venom is meant to be poisonous. Not all “gratuitously nasty” comments are meant to be gratuitous or nasty.

Writers benefit from the skill and gift of being able to crystalize fuzzy thoughts and emotions into succinct words, and a writer who can do that about something as personal as post-traumatic stress after childbirth is probably more skilled and gifted (and experienced) than most. Consider it a blessing when trying to explain complex concepts.

It’s a curse when all that emotional energy is confronted with the dull, blunt force of readers who may not be as graceful with their words. Pity, concern, sarcasm and humor aren’t always conveyed easily by experienced writers, and even less so by those who don’t write for a living. The inflection that readers hear in their own voices, and the emotion they feel in their own hearts, don’t always come across in their written words.

That’s not to say that “gratuitously nasty” comments don’t exist — of course they do. Some axes won’t be denied a grinding. But writers must develop thick skins when the criticism crashes down on them. If the writing is accurate and, in the case of Brodesser-Akner, if it’s emotionally truthful, then the writer has fulfilled her or his obligation to the reader. The writer may choose to respond to comments or blow them off by choice.

Reader comments can be harsh and sometimes hurtful. Suck it up and move on.

Meanwhile, The New York Times requires readers to register with the site before leaving comments. And most recently, Hawaii’s Peer News announced it would close its articles to reader comments completely, The Wall Street Journal reported Monday.

What a pity that these news outlets should resort to ranking systems, registration and closed-door policies to moderate what is designed to be a two-way conversation. That type of open communication is the whole point of Web 2.0, a point that these outlets miss by a mile.

At the other extreme, readers should not be permitted to spew venom as anonymous specters adrift in the ethernet. After all, a news site is its publisher’s virtual property, and it’s the publisher’s obligation to establish a rule of order. One can manage the site like a erudite salon and ask (even demand) readers to conduct themselves with self-restraint. Or one can run the place like a bar (as I did with my former site) and allow readers to speak freely, smacking them in the back of the head when they get too rowdy, or bouncing them completely when they’ve had enough.

But if a publisher merely opens the door to an online establishment and expects visitors not to steal the virtual silverware at first chance, then all hope is lost for civil or constructive discourse. That’s what The Washington Post did, maybe in reverence to the First Amendment. As a result, its comment section is more like a landfill of bigoted rants and axes in search of grinding.

Sifting through ranked comments, or closing articles to comments completely, are terrible solutions. The former creates an echo chamber, where those ranking the comments (presumably other readers or the site’s staff) can amplify agreeable opinions and mute dissenting ones. The latter only makes the publication seem aloof, and can cut off potential story leads and angles for reporters to follow.

In the end, a website is its publisher’s blank wall. One can lead readers to paint a flowing mural of constructive ideas, or one can abandon it for graffiti artists and taggers to maul.

Photo courtesy of Flickr user cauchisavona.

The second transpired on Twitter with Gannett reporter Chris Serico, who shared his thoughts on sportscaster Bob Costas. Serico finds Costas to be a “smart and self-effacing” announcer, whereas I believe Costas is a babbling egomaniac who’s strayed from his roll as a sports reporter.

Both discussions got me thinking: What is a reporter? Is it someone who abandons the self for the sake of objectivity? Is it someone who incorporates or even projects the self as an act of empathy? Is there a happy medium between mensch and übermensch? What is happiness anyway?

Of course, some of these questions may never be answered or even understood. But I’d like to take a swing at the first one, on being a reporter, with an emphasis on hyperlocalism. Here goes nothing:

According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, a reporter is someone who works for a newspaper, magazine, or television company to gather, report and broadcast news. Throw in organizations like radio companies, press agencies and websites, and I’m cool with Merriam-Webster. But the dictionary (and I) distinguish reporters from journalists, those whose writing is characterized “by a direct presentation of facts or description of events without an attempt at interpretation.”

Can community bloggers be considered reporters? If they offer new information that’s relevant to the community conversation, then yes. They should be extended all the courtesies and credentials available to the mainstream press. But are community bloggers journalists? No, not if they participate in news creation or inject opinion into their content.

(The same can be asked of Bob Costas and other mainstream content producers. Are they reporters, journalists, commentators, columnists, or what?)

The distinction between reporter and journalist does not diminish the former’s importance in delivering vital information to the community. However, editorializing can be a dangerous thing for both, especially on the hyperlocal level. On the business end, it can alienate potential advertisers and sponsors. But even worse, it can lead news consumers to question motives.

There are some damn good community blogs out there digging up dirt that mainstream media won’t touch, and they’re definitely worth reading. But as far as practice goes, I’ll stick with journalism.

Photo courtesy of Flickr user jef_safi.

The marketing group that conducted the study didn’t explain the difference, but Harvard’s Nieman Journalism Lab chalked it up to the ability of topic-specific sites to reach target audiences, versus the watered-down mainstream coverage engineered to speak to the masses.

And there’s this theory from fellow hyperlocalist Cynthia Cotte Griffiths, with Rockville (Md.) Central: “Bloggers are on the front line producing story ideas. We’re free to interact,” she said via Twitter. “Reporters are often restricted.”

Um, no and yes. While bloggers and hyperlocalists are “on the front line,” so are mainstream reporters. Newspapers still break most stories, which bloggers then regurgitate, a Pew study found (in Baltimore, anyway). In that sense, reporters not only occupy the front line, they bring the beer and chips. Bloggers (83 percent of them, according to Pew) just nibble on the crumbs.

I agree that reporters are “restricted” somewhat when it comes to their level of interaction with readers. Good practice requires them to stay out of the fray, to maintain objectivity. But that shouldn’t prevent journalists from eliciting conversation from readers, from “interviewing” them and moderating discussion strings in online comments sections.

Perhaps the bigger problem lies with the institutions that manage mainstream media and the agendas they put forth. Some of the country’s best known publications — The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal and Harper’s Magazine, to name a few — are managed by billionaires who jump into the news business primarily because it gives them access to the powers that be, Advertising Age’s Simon Dumenco posted last week.

“Much has been written about the death of journalism, blah blah, as the margins at once-great publishing companies vanish. But something else is vanishing too: the old black magic that drew deep-pocketed backers to media ownership because media (specifically newspapers and magazines) offered them ample other rewards (regardless of the state of the balance sheet). Like, prestige. A place at the table. Access to the halls of power.”

That’s not journalism for the sake of civic discourse, quality reporting or even business. That’s just journalism for the sake of ego. And if a news outlet operates only to stroke the egos of aloof billionaire backers, then there’s no room left for average news consumers to share their thoughts.

Mainstream media insists on talking to people. Hyperlocalists understand that it’s about talking with people. Until traditional media changes its mind frame, it will continue to circle the drain. No new technology or novel distribution system will reverse that trend.

Photo courtesy of Flickr user bbaltimore.

Hugo also mentioned that he was a software engineer.

So I asked him: Is your goal to generate content that facilitates civic discourse, or to build an application that does the same? If I had his software skills, I’d pump out location-based mobile apps and develop ways to break Apple’s and Amazon’s chokehold on content delivery to e-readers. Content creation is all for nothing without content distribution.

Outside of this conversation, Hugo’s background reminded me that many hyperlocal journalists don’t have journalism on their resumes. They have backgrounds in event planning, microbiology (ahem!), information technology, whatever. They just don’t have journalism degrees.

That doesn’t mean they’re not journalists. They cover local beats, interview witnesses, write and edit content, fact check and verify — stuff that J-school grads do. Hyperlocalists just do it on a community level, stuff that larger media outlets don’t do.

But in pursuing their interest in journalism, I hope they don’t ignore their prior work experiences. Instead, they should use those experiences and skills to create new revenue streams for their media outlets. Seriously, if Hugo solves the mystery of e-reader content distribution and then monetizes it (by offering content on a subscription basis, or by selling the technology to other content producers), he’ll have one more revenue stream for his journalism project.

I don’t mean to add more work to the busy life of hyperlocalists. If the revenue stream doesn’t benefit the hyperlocal news project either financially or in terms of publicity, then don’t bother. And remember that there are other ways to contribute to a hyperlocal news outlet — as an apps developer, event planner, even as a microbiologist — without creating content.

Photo courtesy of Flickr user silverlinedwinnebago.

“I find it difficult to stop being a journalist to be an entrepreneur. Everyone can say it’s necessary, but a journalist isn’t trained to STOP reporting and writing.”

My response (more or less) was this: I hear ya, brother.

During my three years as editor of The Silver Spring Penguin, content always came before commerce. I was so focused on covering my beat and interacting with readers that I forgot to sell ads and devise other revenue sources.

Even worse, the responsibilities of being a one-person newsroom were imposing on other facets of my life. I actually stopped reading the news, perhaps as a way of divorcing my free time (what little there was) from my working hours. Physical activity was limited to mouse clicks, so my weight ballooned into the “How are you still alive?” range. I won’t even get into how work affected housekeeping and personal hygiene.

It’s difficult, maybe even impossible for one person to carry that much professional responsibility without something giving way. So if one is intent on running a solvent hyperlocal newsroom, the question becomes this: What are you willing to give up in order to earn an income?

Personally, I won’t sacrifice my editorial standards — that was The Penguin’s backbone, and it’ll be the backbone for any future project. However, I’d be willing to give up some of the reporting to trained freelancers, even if it means paying them before the publication makes its first dollar.

I’d also gladly give up some of the entrepreneurial duties: ad sales, networking events, stuff like that. I have neither the face, stomach nor personality for such work, and it would be a disservice to the publication to maintain professionalism in the newsroom but not on the sales floor. Unfortunately, how to pay that sales professional is still lost on me.

And for my dear friends and loved ones, I will no longer abdicate my responsibilities to shower, brush my teeth, do the dishes or treat the laundry. Please don’t toss me out of the house.

I’m convinced that there’s a happy medium between journalist and entrepreneur. It’s just a matter of creating it.