What happens when every book is online, linkable, and connected to every writer and every reader? What happens when the book is liberated from being words on paper, unbound from a format that’s two thousand years old? What happens to how we read and how we write?
For more info, or to comment on or vote for the panel (please do!), see here.
An, er, friend of mine heard an interview on Fresh Air with Scottish director Armando Iannucci about his new film In the Loop (IMDB). He’d never heard of Iannucci, or the movie, or the TV show upon which the movie is based. The audio clips from the movie were so great he then went to Youtube to see if he could find more clips. He could. The clips video looked even funnier than the audio.
The movie — it appears — “comes out” on August 14. In the old days, that meant my friend had two choices:
1. Wait two weeks to watch the movie in a theatre
2. Wait six months (?) to rent the movie and watch it at home
It always annoyed my friend that he had to wait to watch movies he wanted to see, because movie studios liked to release movies at different times in different cities; and then wait months after that to release the DVD for rental.
The studios did (and do) this not because they surveyed their customers, and found they preferred having to wait to watch movies they wanted to see in the way they wanted to see them. The studios did (and do) this for various business reasons, that have proved, over time, an effective way to increase revenues on a movie.
Times Are Changing
But these are not the old days, they are new days. And a few things have happened. My friend watches 95% of the movies he watches on his computer; he rents DVDs using zip.ca (Canada’s Netflix); and occasionally when he wants to watch a certain movie right now, he looks for it online.
The movie studios so far have decided that he should not watch movies online when he wants to watch them.
Which in the old days, meant he just had to wait, despite being more excited about this movie than any other movie he’d heard about in past year or so.
A Parable of the Present
But it turns out that other people (not studios) can get their hands on copies of movies as soon as they are available — often before they are released in theatre — and those people make them available online. This is especially true for movies that lots of people really really want to see, right now.
So my friend now has a third choice:
3. Watch the movie when & where he wants.
It turns out that my friend much prefers option 3. It also turns out that movie studios don’t want to give my friend option 3 – which makes my friend shrug a little when he hears them talking about piracy.
Not because he wants things for free, but because it seems to him that “digital” means studios and moviegoers no longer need be constrained by the two choices of the old days. Option 3 is easy and cheap, and that’s the option he wants.
He often says: If you, as providers of content, give me what I want, when I want it, at a reasonable price, I’ll be happy to pay for it. But if you don’t want to give me what I want, when I want it, I’ll be compelled – when I really want something – to find other ways to get it.
If there is demand, there will be supply.
In the digital world, media is infinitely copiable & distributable at rougly zero cost
Media companies have long built their business around a restricted supply
If demand exceeds restricted supply in the digital world, someone — not necessarily the owner of the good — will meet that demand by making & distributing infinite copies at zero cost
Trying to stop # 4 is like trying to stop water going down hill
If restricting supply is no longer a viable business, then something else must be
When supply is unlimited, other factors drive the choices people make
Those drivers include: ease, quality, curation, attention, service, connection
Media companies – including book publishers – should stop thinking about business based on phony restricted supply
Media companies – including book publishers – should start thinking about how to build business around the actual drivers that will bring their customers to them (see #9 above), instead of sending them to the pirates
It was one of the best movies my friend has seen in a long while; and he has urged me to urge you to watch it. You’ll love it (he says).
The fabulous Nora Young has just launched a new podcast (that also happens to be a CBC Radio* show), called Spark. Covering technology, art, society, it also aims to get more interactive feedback from the net. Comments, participation, stories and the like. As with all of Nora’s radio work, it’s good good stuff.
Did you know that almost anywhere that you go in a city you’ll be sharing space with someone’s private wireless computer network? All of their personal communication—e-mail, love messages, bank passwords, credit card numbers, and bizarre surfing habits—will be passing through your body without your awareness. Who are they, and how do you feel about sharing space with their personal life?
The Warbike turns this wireless network activity into sound. As you cycle the streets, you’ll hear the activity of this invisible communications layer that permeates our public spaces. Who knew that so much was going on?
So, have a listen, and go comment on their blog (to help show CBC management that people on the web care about content).
UPDATE: also forgot to mention, they’re using podsafe/creative commons music on the show. sweet.
*NOTE:Radio shows are just like podcasts, except that you have to listen to them at specific times (often based on a “schedule” that a small group of people determine arbitrarily), and instead of being able to hear them on your computer, or put them on your portable mp3 player, you have to buy a special “radio receiver.” Radio receivers are devices that pick up radio signals (much like wifi), but are usually single-purpose machines – ie for audio only, no email, internet etc.
The New Yorker has a fascinating story, about the “discovery” of a 75 year old virtuoso, genius pianist, Joyce Hatto, that turns out to be a hoax. What’s so interesting – to me anyway – is how the internet – and brilliant grassroots marketing, fraudulent tho it was – created the myth bought by many mainstream music journalists.
The whole thing, rather than being tawdry, is somehow touching, romantic, sad, and beautiful in a perverse sort of way.