FreelanceCamp2008 turned out to be a museum full of free food, fun workshops, and enlightening conversations. I only know that because somebody told me after the fact. I was there, I just spent most of my time napping on the wooden benches or running to and from Longs.
With PublicMediaCamp2008 approaching, I was determined to avoid this. Bound and determined to enjoy the BarCamp I did a couple of things differently. (Like avoiding alcohol the night before. And taking a shower after getting out of bed.)
Squeaky clean and sober, I showed up, effortlessly arranging the muffins and setting up the coffee from Lulu Carpenter’s. The signs were hung. The registration table arranged. People began to file in, butter their bagels and blink sleepily over paper cups of coffee.
In the immortal words of Everlast, I was diggin’ the mix and feelin’ the vibe. There is a vast sprawl of people who live in the place where social and public media cross paths, and we had gotten a good diverse chunk of them to come to our little coworking space. (All one hundred or so fit inside comfortably, albeit cozily.) People looked up from their conversations, closed their laptops, pocketed their iPhones and tucked away their notebooks as soon as we started doing introductions.
Some people were more tech-savvy than others. This was clear from the outset and turned out to be a boon instead of a burden. Many of the guests were able to help their less-wired comerades sign up for Twitter, or show them how to subscribe to RSS feeds. The learning curve didn’t slow us down a bit, and I believe it went a long way toward helping the campers get to know each other better.
My favorite guest was an older gentleman who was at the BarCamp as well as the dinner at Johnny’s the night before. He was a local and zealously interested in the internet, public media, and local politics, but seems to have been left behind at the same time that Instant Messaging got really popular. This didn’t intimidate him one bit. Not only did he get a crash course in new web technology–he was among the most vocal and joyful participants we had.
Now, I’m not singling the fellow out for his lack of information. That would be hypocritical, since I spend most of my time being educated about the internet by women who have kids my age. I’m singling him out because he had an exemplary desire to learn, because he didn’t care what the other campers thought about him, because he wasn’t scared to be himself and because he was persistently happy. Getting one outstandingly stoked person like that at a BarCamp is a gift.
RadioEngage had a workshop, too. I sat cross-legged in a plush purple cafe chair updating the wiki on Amie’s laptop while Margaret headed up the central meeting area, armed with a colorful selection of expo pens and a whiteboard on wheels. Some people had taken up in chairs. Many spread out comfortably on the floor. Others leaned casually against walls or shelves. Margaret managed to probe the crowd for suggestions: if we built this platform for you, what would it have? (Everyone seemed to be waiting for Margaret to answer that question herself.)
I was reminded of that scene from Monty Python’s Life of Brian, in which Brian escapes from the Peoples’ Front of Judea Headquarters through the back window and ends up standing before a crowd next to a bunch of prophets. Except it was different, because Margaret knew what she was talking about, and nobody was heckling her, and she wasn’t running from the Romans (to my knowledge). On an unrelated note, if you haven’t seen Monty Python’s Life of Brian, you should rent it.
This time I even got to have my own workshop. I didn’t really expect anyone to join the conversation called Blogging: For Fun and Profit. (What can I say? I can’t run your radio station and I don’t know PHP. But I can blog.) I was not as successful in terms of educating the people who weren’t so tech-savvy.
“If you make a mistake, it’s fodder for your blog,” I explained confidently. “I do a lot of stuff wrong. I’m clumsy. I send out piles of letters and forget to stamp them. I mix up emails. When I make mistakes, I just blog about it on our company website. And people really enjoy reading it, because it makes them laugh, so they’re more likely to visit Quiddities.com.”
A white-haired man who had taken up the only desk in the room raised his hand. “So, if you looked up the word ‘failure’ in the dictionary, is there a picture of you next to it?”
(I can’t be too mad about this comment, because it falls under the category of mistakes/embarassing moments, and therefore is fodder for my blog.)
Not everybody is eager to jump on the internet bandwagon. Especially if they didn’t grow up with a keyboard under their hands 20% of the time, like kids my age. But if you can’t remember a time before the internet (because you hadn’t been born yet), you’re not very likely to go places that aren’t online. And if you belong to the even larger group of people who not only want to see your online presence, but want to participate in it, you’re not very likely to spend very much time at a static, non-interactive website with little information.
Getting online can be intimidating, especially if you’ve never done it before. And it’s scary trying something new. I remember the cold sweat that broke out on my skin when I signed up for Twitter. That’s why PublicMediaCamp2008 was important: whatever lessons people took home, now they’re networked–they’re not alone, and they know it.
My genuinely grateful and super-enthusiastic Thank You goes out to the following vendors, who are completely awesome.
Andrea C. Waters of Lifestyle Culinary Arts, for aiding me in the schlepping of boxes, crafting mouth-watering culinary creations, being generally cool, and most of all, her sponsorship! She has a great new location in Scotts Valley, and offers classes in addition to catering.
Manthri Srinath and Joe Carlson of Lulu Carpenters, for providing some super killer brew, plus accoutrements. People are rarely so busy and so polite at the same time.
Sunkist Naturals and Denis Hiller, for finding me, being an awesome start-up, having a great contemporary approach to publicity and being supportive throughout the planning and execution of the BarCamp.
NextSpace and Jeremy Neuner, for executing a business plan that revolves around being awesome, and for making us comfortable in the space.
Also to the rest of our sponsors with whom I did not work directly–and most of all, the <love>Q Mamas.</love>