Media

Seeking Appeal

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

Many writers harbor that dream of creating the work everyone loves.  Many writers also have the dream of creating a work that connects intimately with others.  Finally, most writers find that reconciling these – let’s call them Broad Appeal and Personal Appeal – is a nightmare in practice.

Yet some works manage to have both Broad and Personal Appeal – let us call it Universal Appeal.  Those rare movies and books are things we all treasure, for we can enjoy them by ourselves and share them with others.  Some creators break through the barrier, and we wonder why (we’re not jealous, right?).

This issue has been going around in my head for a while.  My tastes for media have evolved lately, and I’m trying to understand them.  This Broad, Personal, and Universal appeal are whirling about in my mind, so join me in an attempt to understand my thoughts.

Thoughts On Broad Appeal

Media with Broad Appeal are those works that interest many people but may not be particularly intimate.  They’re enjoyable or insightful, but most of the audience doesn’t experience that connection that drives people to obsess over or plumb a work.  We’ve all had that movie or show where your reaction is, “yeah it’s good, nice to share that with others.”

Broad Appeal is not bad.  I would argue the near-endless Marvel Films tend towards the Broad Appeal category, but most are good to extremely well-crafted.  There is a place for Broad Appeal because it lets you share the experience.

I can understand why some people focus on writing things with Broad Appeal.  It makes money and you get lots of people who like it – and both are great!  However, it seems to take effort to reach that level of Broad Appeal, or one may crave the intimacy of Personal Appeal.

Thoughts On Personal Appeal

Media with the Personal Appeal are works that connect deeply with a set of people but aren’t “for everyone.”  The right audience has a deep experience because they truly “get it.”  I’m sure you’ve had that book or comic or show where you loved it but found it impossible to share.

Personal Appeal is not exclusionary.  It’s just that you have to be the kind of person who it’s made for, who connects with it.  Some stuff just isn’t for you – something I get to with my large library of philosophy, little of which I can safely say “yeah you’ll dig THIS translation . . .”

Personal Appeal seems to be easy for some people to write – create what you like or focus on a domain of specific knowledge.  Writing things with Personal Appeal also has an intimacy that is quite enjoyable, which I can say from personal experience.  Still, an author may want to have their work have a broader audience than they have . . .

Thoughts On Universal Appeal

Universal Appeal is that rare work that appeals to a wide audience and reaches people’s depths.  Everyone (or at least a lot of people) can enjoy it and feel a deep, inspiring, life-altering connection.  It’s the work everyone talks about and will be considered classic decades or centuries down the road.  For many authors, it’s the hope – getting paid and reaching people.

There are a few works I’d put in this area.  Historically, one example is the Tao Te Ching, the “life-changing evening read” which has reached people for aeons.  More recently, Lord of the Rings fits this category – I’ve been through multiple revivals in my own lifetime.  I’m sure you have others.

Universal Appeal is a challenge.  I don’t think it can be calculated or planned.  It may be something that just happens, and creators may just have to live with that.

Our Journey

I find I rather like this taxonomy.  It’d doubtlessly oversimplified, but it gives me ways to think about works for the future.

I hope this gives you things to consider – which means I hope it has Broad Appeal . . .

Steven Savage

The Tower of Babbling

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

The Attention Economy is everywhere. Hits on social media sell ad space. Pundits make stupid statements to get hits and rile voters. Everything is about getting us to look, click, and of course, serve up a few ads or maybe get a donation or sale out of us. The Attention Economy’s architects built it to use us, not serve us.

The result is a pile of data analysis, affiliated companies, shadowy agreements, and optimization. This Rube Goldberg device of attention extraction serves those wanting to make even more money and the few who can get in on the deal. It’s a meaningless edifice for most of us. There’s no there there, just people selling things through ads or wanting to get us to vote in anger.

The pinnacle of this is NFTS, where people burn up the planet to tag ugly art as theirs in what is obviousy a scam and money laundering scheme. There’s no meaning, just people insisting there is until the game of musical chairs catches fires.

Lately, I’ve been digging through old indie radio shows, some going back to the ’80s. There’s music I’ve never heard before and will likely never hear since. There’s witty commentary on the time that’s only more poignant. It’s all so personal, so real, so meaningful to the people at the time – listening to these shows, I felt the enthusiasm so strongly, an enthusiasm I missed.

That enthusiasm, that meaning came from the strong personal feel of the indie music, the skits, and the host’s passion. That connection is too rare in the attention economy. It’s hard to love something when you have to pander to the algorithm, jump on the latest trend, or spew the latest jargon just to get seen. You have to be meaningless to get the attention for things with meaning, and it’s maddening.

Throughout the pandemic, I’ve found myself engaging in what’s meaningful to me. Joining activist groups that do things. Engaging with meditative practice more strongly to understand myself. Working on a job that lets me actually do good things. I think this focus wasn’t just due to the pandemic itself, but necessary to keep myself together in the mess of the Attention Economy.

Many of us hope to slow, dissemble, or change the bizarre media mess we’re dealing with. I have some hope for regulation and great hope for engaged citizens. But one thing I can say is we need to focus on ourselves and find what we care about first. That gives you the grounding you need to do the right things – and not get swept away in the latest mathematically calculated fad or outrage.

I want to be as deep into something real as old radio show hosts were into psychobilly from Arkansas or early techno.  Maybe by being better grounded, I can help others find meaning as well.

Steven Savage

The Difficulty of Difficult Media

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

(Thanks to Serdar, who inspired me with this column.)

I often hear the word “Difficult” used to describe media with praise. The “difficult” film that supposedly makes you a film buff if you understand it. “Difficult” is apparently a good thing, and I see no reason to believe this.

If a book or movie is “difficult” to understand, is that a testimony to its depth? There’s no reason to assume that it’s any good – maybe it’s incoherent or bad. Perhaps the creator didn’t know how to communicate. A difficult movie isn’t necessarily a mental obstacle course that strengthens you, but just a pointless labyrinth.

Yes, some media is “difficult,” and yes, it takes intellectual fortitude to understand it. I evaluate such media on a case-by-case basis because “difficult” even when properly used doesn’t communicate depth. A clever mystery isn’t the same as a symbolism-packed journey.

I think people love to praise “difficult” media because it says I am smart enough to understand this and you’re not. Claiming something is “difficult” for too many is a way to praise themselves. It’s a way to use a single word to claim one’s intellectual superiority that you “got” it.

I’m always wary of simplistic descriptions such as “difficult.” They quickly become shorthand whose meaning is lost or ignore important distinctions. One word can get in the way of the real experience of a piece of media or a person.

Steven Savage