Word of the day: Convergence

So what does it mean? Dictionary.com cites it as “the degree or point at which lines or objects, etc., converge.” (Don’t you love it when references reuse the word in the definition?) Let’s swap the word ‘converge’ in that definition with the word ‘merge.’ So, let’s loosely define convergence as the blending of existing forms.

For our paradigm, convergence refers to the union of two or more forms or platforms of media to create a more wholistic package. Invariably, 99 percent of the time that includes online platforms. One of the best concepts to come out of journalism powwows these days has been the notion of being “platform agnostic.” That means the story is delivered to the public in whatever format is best for that story, be it print, TV, podcast, radio, web or a combination thereof.

Why is making good on this theory so terrifying to the Canadian media? Other countries’ institutions are navigating their way through this merger (take a look at the U.K.’s The Guardian), but the Canadian media is having a rough time.

Since it’s already been said (and I know I’m going against the common journalistic trend of just re-saying it), let’s take a look at what the Online Journalism Review has to say on the topic: http://www.ojr.org/ojr/business/1078349998.php

No high road for writers

Probably the overall constant for writers and journalists is the lack of stability. That’s most likely why they will do intricate tap dances for companies for which they work. Why many extremely liberal journalists will work for ultra conservative papers such as The Post and now The Citizen. Why editors and writers dedicated to quality will lower themselves to pumping out the desired quantity – often with an advertorial bent. There is no high road in journalism.

But, I rarely had to bend over for the company for which I worked – notice the past tense. As of a week and a half ago, I was laid off with the entire art department, another editor and more staff for the politically-correct terminology of “financial restructuring” (i.e.: our former CEO fleeced us before he left, leaving the little people to suffer). That, however, is another constant, I suppose.

So now I join the majority of writers and journalists in unemployment, desperately scrounging for freelance or talking themselves into jobs such as communications positions “because it’s not that different really.” I toss around concepts like hot potatoes, not wanting to hold on to them for too long because they hurt to think about. Ideas such as “Shall I start my own magazine?” “Maybe I could scamper off to some war-torn country and do some good exposing the bad?” “Surely there are more national magazines I could edit for – that do not reside in Toronto?” Then reality settles and I drop my singed roots to pick up more comfortable, safe ones, ones that will support my family and pay my mortgage.

Curve balls

Beyond my middle-school tendancies to giggle at that word, I find the concept of curve balls fascinating. And yet, I remember the last time I said that I was in University and in love and blithely commented on how fun life’s twists and turns can be. Ah, how quickly we can learn.

Sure, change can be exciting in that “oh-my-God-the-rollercoaster’s-out-of-control-we’re-all-gonna-die” sort of way. But without it, where would we be? Bored, bored and bored. I attempt to resist the tendancies of a few of my good friends (you know who you are) who fear change, who’ve been buffeted by its gale-force winds before, but the natural reflex to protect one’s self is hard to ignore.

I find myself watching that ball being thrown, as if in slow motion. I see it flying toward me, mach-9, and wonder, “Will it fly true or will it curve?” And do I want it to be as I safely predict, or do I want another curve ball? I guess in either scenario you can get hurt.