Story Frame 61 – What's Better Than A Sheepdog in New Zealand?

Much to my surprise, it turns out it’s me – at least in the eyes of the Dean of the Columbia University Graduate School for Journalism.

That comment came about while I was delving into the mystery of love – but I didn’t realize how funny and useful it was until I was immersed in the world of nanotechnology. That happened one morning as I was driving from one side of North Carolina to the other.

Immune to little modern luxuries, such as having a CD player in her car – my mother once told me she often hummed Big Band music from the 1940s to stay awake on the 8-hour drive between Alexandria and Asheville, whenever she came to visit us.

Humming didn’t work for me. I needed coffee and I knew where each and every Starbucks was along the route. I just had to take care to strike a balance between drinking coffee and the subsequent bathroom stops.

In the early spring of 2008, in search of marketing ideas and connections, I was on the highway, driving across North Carolina to attend the second annual NC Science Bloggers Conference in Research Triangle Park. I’d been hired once again by the Fred Friendly group at Columbia University – this time to promote a three-part series, Nanotechnology: The Power of Small, to PBS stations across the country.

Did I know anything about nanotechnology? Nope, not a thing.

I always try to promote my projects in what I hope is a uniquely counterintuitive way. It is never enough to simply say: “I’ve got a great documentary that I think you should air on your television station in prime time” – and then rely upon friendships and goodwill for that to actually happen. That does nothing to distinguish you or set your films apart. It’s an unimaginative approach and it certainly doesn’t project: this is a must watch documentary.

I start each project pondering what aspect of it interests me and my restless mind. What gets my attention? Once I figure that out, it usually gives me insights into how to make it interesting to others.

So when I came across an article on nanotechnology written by Steve Boggan in The Guardian titled, “Once Bitten,” I knew I’d found a great conversation starter to use with PBS programmers – food. To get their attention and offset any potential foot dragging regarding what might appear to be a technical and wonky science series, I sent out a marketing piece with the caption, “How Does Nanotechnology Taste?”

Quoting Boggan, I wrote: “If you have ever had concerns about genetically modified food, you will be either delighted or concerned by the implications for how nanotechnology could revolutionize the food you eat. Welcome to the world of nanofoods, where almost anything is possible … like bowls of ice cream with no more fat than a carrot ... where smart packaging sniffs out and destroys the micro-organisms that make good food go bad … From soil to supper, Nano is set to become the next kitchen battleground.”

And then, off I went to the North Carolina Blogger’s Conference to deal with the publicity aspect of raising awareness about the PBS series.

Just saying the words ‘science blogger’ made me oddly happy and I was looking forward to spending time with a whole room of them. While blogs number in the hundreds of millions these days, back in 2008, blogging had only been around for about a decade. Blogging platforms WordPress and TypePad were only five years old. The Huffington Post and Twitter, founded on the concept of ‘microblogging,’ were both just toddlers.

For a full day, 200 participants talked about why they blogged, how blogs can be useful in teaching and learning, and how bloggers contribute to the public understanding of science. Topics so over my head and wonky, it felt stimulating and inspiring just to be in their midst. In turn, I shared information about The Power of Small series, encouraging them to write about it in their blogs for the viewing public.

Driving back to Asheville on I-40 the morning after the conference, I had a head full of ideas but hadn’t yet had my morning coffee. Somewhere in the middle of North Carolina, I realized (perhaps channeling my mother) I didn’t need coffee – I could actually think myself into a faux caffeinated state.

And for that, I could thank the experience of being called names by a couple of female documentary filmmakers!

I had recently worked with Joan Konner, the first woman to lead Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism, on her documentary, The Mystery of Love. Hosted by playwright and actress Anna Deavere Smith, it was one of the more than 50 documentaries and television specials Joan had produced on ideas and beliefs. Joan also wrote and edited books she described as “takeout gourmet food for thought” – what’s not to like? Joan’s husband, producer Al Permutter, had hired me to take care of the national PBS station wrangling for The Mystery of Love.

The other, Renee Bishop, was the executive producer of the Farmers Almanac TV, an engaging series released I’d worked with at the height of the ‘farm to table’ movement.

Mulling over comments I’d recently received from these women, it occurred to me I should put them both at the top of the list of unsolicited feedback I send out to prospective clients. I like using spontaneous, unsolicited comments, as they feel more genuine and sincere than quotes from clients who’ve had to be asked for their feedback.

Joan’s note read: Thanks again for your help and your powers of persuasion. You’re better than a sheep dog in New Zealand rounding up this flock (of PBS stations.)

And in response to my final report, Renee responded: I am sitting here with tears running down my face. It means the world that this is happening, Kristin. Thank you for all your help! I have had a knot of anxiety that unwinds more and more with every email like this we get (from you.)

How fun it would be, I suddenly realized, to use a mash-up of these women’s comments at the top of the feedback page I send out to encourage new filmmakers to work with me! Writing in my head as I drove west towards the mountains, I came up with:

“I’ve made filmmakers cry and been compared to a dog. And those are just some of the nicer things people have said about working with me!”

Smiling at these good memories kept me wide awake the rest of my drive.

Coming up next … Story Frame 62 – Non-Fiction Nirvana

[photo of my and my dog, Klejne, who was not a sheepdog, by T. Hunnicutt]