Earlier this month, I had the opportunity to attend the Online News Association’s annual conference in New Orleans, courtesy of Project C.
Project C is a new hub for journalists who want to do their own thing. Participating publishers pay for workshops and access to a private messaging board where they can swap tips about going it alone. (Sample recent post: “I dunno if you guys ever feel this way, but sometimes it’s a bummer that what drives subscriptions doesn’t always align with effort or value.” Heard!)
In any case, I’m always up for embedding in New Orleans and connecting with other journalists, so I was honored to be selected for the inaugural program. And it occurred to me that I had the chance to do both at once by booking a table at Galatoire’s for the Project C cohort.
While none of the cohort members had ever dined at Galatoire’s, I’m 99 percent sure that if you’re reading this newsletter, you have at least a vague notion of the Friday lunch phenomenon. For more than a century, New Orleanians lined up for midday revelry so boisterous that it feels like a paganistic ritual to ward off evil with shouting, horn blowing, and potions (brandy milk punch chief among them.) After lockdown, Galatoire’s started accepting reservations, but everything else about the experience—from the ruddy turtle soup to the black-jacketed waiters—is unchanged.
Accordingly, I made a 1:30 p.m. reservation for our group, but about half of them arrived 30 minutes early. I was mortified to discover they’d been whisked off to a hushed back room that looked like the neglected clubhouse of a cut-rate golf course. I promised to get the situation straightened out, but the cohort members explained they’d requested the charmless table. They couldn’t stand the noise in the dining room, they said.
Many of the Online News Association (ONA) sessions focused on what we in the biz call “audience engagement,” meaning readers are moved by media to respond. All digital tricks aside, outrage remains a top driver of engagement—as I was reminded when I posted to Instagram about my fellow journalists’ rejection of what’s possibly the South’s quintessential culinary event.
“Criminal!”
“Holy God! No! I honestly can’t believe this.”
“Oh no! Trade them in for a new group!”
Readers, I did. Rather than accept the new surroundings as a sop to bonding, I arranged for the rest of us to sit in the front corner of the main dining room. We had a blast.
I want to say I can understand why someone would seek out a space that’s familiar, predictable, and safe. Honestly, I’m not there yet. That’s in part because I thrive on the vibrant and raucous, but also in part because we so rarely have that option, especially as the world changes around us.
The current digital landscape is nothing if not noisy. In exchange for my ONA pass, I briefly manned the Project C desk in the event exhibition hall, giving me the chance to talk to dozens of talented journalists ready to strike out as solopreneurs. If it feels like hundreds of journalists want your subscription money now, just wait another year.
From a creator’s perspective (“C” is for creator!), the upwelling of voices to drown out hedge funds and tech billionaires is thrilling. Yet it can also be daunting for folks who just want to be heard.
But I suspect there’s relief ahead for readers and writers alike. The solution is not to shun the noise, but to find communities within it. Basically, we’re on the cusp of publications banding together both for their operational benefit—if an afternoon Sazerac sounds glamorous, please know it’s counterbalanced by dreams of micro newsrooms sharing a sales consultant—and the sake of supporters’ pocketbooks.
In fact, one of Project C’s newest initiatives is centered on just that. The Back Indie Media Drive is an unprecedented collective effort to fight the corporate control of information. Rather than pretend there aren’t other indies out there, Back Indie Media Drive participants—The Food Section included—are asking readers to purchase a subscription from another worthy publication, in addition to this one.
You can check out the whole list here. But I want to add two more titles to the set for your consideration: I’m eternally grateful to Caitlin Dewey of Links I Would GChat You If We Were Friends and James Cave of The Jiffy for joining me at Galatoire’s. Here’s to more coming together amid chaos in the years ahead.
Prefer your wishes more concrete? I’m looking for The Food Section to sell five subscriptions between now and the end of the drive on September 30. What can you do to help?
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