Amongst other things, Nic is a writer and director for theatre and film...
... so doesn't have a lot of time to update this site.
I've been following Ross Pruden's #infdist for a while and we got into a chat about how quality assurance fits in to the self-publishing model. (Self-publishing in this instance refers not only to books but any media of which you are the author and which you have chosen to distribute yourself; thus, perhaps, self-distribution. However our conversation was sparked off by literature and by this week's Litopia After Dark.) He suggested I recap and expand our discussion for #infdist.
We addressed two aspects of quality assurance, one of which is related to finding, in this vast digital soup, worthwhile works in which to invest one's time; tools for which the community is well on its way to establishing; and the other of which is related to the actual work itself, be it a book, a film, a piece of music or anything that can be turned into electricity and mirrored around the globe. The question then is not merely 'Where is the good stuff?' but 'How do we make the good stuff great?'
Ross noted that the old model of publishing was expensive and the investment was front-loaded. This required a carefully graded series of gatekeepers one had to pass, to ensure that the product in which the publisher was investing would achieve a return. As such, quality was detected by agents, who offered assurances to publishers who, if accepting of the raw materials, would invest editorial time and money in honing the book before finally producing a certain quantity of units for sale. Based on the feedback of units shifted, they could produce more. Or pulp them.
Now, said Ross, the model is inverted. We are all publishers, feedback is instantaneous and distribution is without cost. Thus the editorial process takes place after distribution and in the public eye.
But is this such a wonderful thing?
There is something delightful in unfolding a book, or settling in to a film, or engaging with a play, that has been through a rigorous editorial process. It is both fresh and excellent; and accompanying the suspension of disbelief which one owes the author is a suspension of judgement which one owes the editorial team working quietly in the background.
Part of the delight of a new, editorially-assured work is what for want of a better term we could call 'first encounter quality'. A little like a surprise birthday cake, one wants to present it finished, baked and decorated, rather than have your guests watch you mix the batter and place it in the oven.
In the inverted model, raw ideas are laid out before your audience and hewn into shape in front of them. If we were stretching for another culinary metaphor, it might be like teppanyaki cuisine. Yet there are no surprises there; just appreciation of your chef's dexterity.
So how can one retain the freedom of this inverted model but assure the quality and editorial excellence that makes a piece of work shine?
I outlined to Ross the experiment with a self-imposed editorial process which we're going to use for Complexity's next project. Whilst it is a transmedia work, the interactive nature and effects of the audience's contributions are to be carefully segregated from the editorial process which we will cede to professionals.
The formula is simple: we author the work, the editorial staff provide QA and pre-distribution feedback which allows us to polish sections of the work before release and distribution. The audience feedback then allows us to steer the ship of the work, producing yet more polished sections for their enjoyment without spoiling things with poor production values, narrative mistakes or plain stupidity; and particularly without marring their delicious cake.
It sounded, Ross said, a little like movie test audiences. Well, yes and no, and rather more no than yes. We won't be revising our narrative decisions based upon audience feedback; the ship of the work has a fixed navigation plan; however, our audience can ask us to stop off at interesting coves and beaches along the way. The act of feedback and the various roles and levels of participation are factored into the work to such an extent that they form part of it.
Without going into too much detail about the audience's level of interaction, for fear of spoiling the cake, it will be high – and unique. The idea is to provide a balance between audience engagement and our desire to produce work of which we can be proud. Each model of interaction should be specific to the project; I think we have the right model, or at least a model that is 'right enough', for this one. As it unfolds I'll share it with you in more detail.
And look at that. We didn't resort to the words 'content' or 'consumer' once.
Feedback: What are your chosen tools for navigating the vast digital soup? How can we make them better? What's your editorial process? How soon into the creative act should an audience be invited?
