I’ve noticed a relatively typical trend in that the kind folks who operate places where coworking takes place seem to struggle with how to market it and build a sustainable operation to support it.

I’ve been guilty of parroting the “build the community first” as the solution to nearly every problem that brand new coworking spaces encounter. It’s not a silver bullet, and it’s not meant to be. What it does is put the person who’s in the leadership role in the right state of mind – that of a leader and not just a proprietor - of the community space they’re about to attempt to operate. Being in that state of mind puts you in the most advantageous place to solve the typical, un-special problems that you’re bound to come across. That makes solving the weird, hard problems your focus. And if you give it enough time, they will show up.

But that’s not the point of this post. Lets say you’re doing a great job of developing the community before you’ve even got a space, and now you want to start converting those people to paying members so you can support a home for them to work in.

Freemium doesn’t work with coworking.

Free trials are an epidemic with new coworking entities.

It seems to make some sense. Coworking is a new concept, so charging a new member-potential to try something new raises the barrier far too high for them to walk in the door at all.

Except now you’ve created a new problem for yourself. That member-potential has significantly diminished value associated with what you just provided them. How are you supposed to charge them for the same thing the next time they come in?

In most cases, free coworking is being offered by prepubescent coworking spaces. Those coworking spaces lack the critical mass of smart, interesting, creative people that represent the primary attraction for most of the members they don’t have yet. Once you have that, it’s easier to diminish the value a little bit because you’re starting from a much higher offering of value.

But if your goal is to get people in the door that will stick around and help you sustain the business that will operate their clubhouse, you’ve gotta charge from day 1.

Case Study – The Free Trial of Doom

I got a panicked email from a coworking space owner who I’ve corresponded with a fair amount in the past, and I have full confidence is in this for all of the right reasons. The space was only a few months old, but she felt her runway shortening and was concerned about their member acquisition rates. 8 members had joined in 3 months (which, by the way, isn’t that awful when opening a space with 0 members). She was doing all of the things I typically prescribe: get out there and meet your potentials. Find ways to support them. Get them involved. Here was an excerpt from the email:

Many come and try out the space (we offer a one week free trial) but they dont come back, sometimes even after the first day. They all say they love it, the vibe is great, etc., but wtf. For the life of me, I don’t get it. We follow up, send emails, and even anonymous surveys to figure out what we are doing wrong, and people usually respond with either “it’s too far” or, “I absolutely love your space, and will sign up soon.” Soon. Soon doesn’t come soon enough. Rent in our area is high, and even though we got an AWESOME deal on our rent, we aren’t anywhere near break even.

How many times I’ve heard this isn’t a number I care to count, and it breaks my heart.

We offer a one week free trial. Kiss of death.

My response included the following:

A one week free trial is WAY too much. In fact, I don’t believe in free trials at all. You’re devaluing your Workspace before people even walk in the door by making it free. Don’t be afraid to exchange money for goods and services. It’s the only hard rule of business You’re using free space as a “bell and/or whistle” to get people in the door, but it gives them zero reason to stick around. If you can’t get them hooked in an hour, you’re not going to get them hooked in a week.

She took my response to heart and immediately made some changes. Among them was dropping the free week trial.

A few weeks later, I got a follow up:

…over the past week and a half, we’ve gotten 13 new members!!!! I guess I may have spoke to soon… not to mention that a one day trial as opposed to one week has made a HUGE difference! People come in, love it, and sign up!

In 10 days she had more than doubled (nearly tripled) membership growth that had previously taken almost 10x that long to achieve.

These specific results are admittedly anecdotal, and your milage may vary, but this isn’t the first time I’ve seen this sort of course correction.

I also included:

There’s nothing [inherently] sticky about that onboard process that you described. Show up … for free, and then a wishy-washy “I’ll sign up when its right for me”.

Not only does charging from day one give us the ability to maintain value from the moment the member-potential walks in the door, but it provides us with an extremely effective conversion point. It works like this.

Your first day is $25. But if you decide to sign up that day, we’ll happily apply that $25 towards whatever level of membership you’re interested in!

Which works nicely when our basic membership is $25, the same price as our drop in day. So you essentially get 2 days for the price of one just for signing up, and then your 2nd day lets you explore Indy Hall as a member, rather than a drop-in.

Also, because we have the aforementioned critical mass of smart, interesting, creative people, the rate that drop-ins sign up for ANY level is extremely high. We convert our paying drop-ins at a rate of 2:1. That is, for every TWO people who drop in, ONE of them typically joins at some level of membership. At our spring 2010 drop-in rates, that’s a relatively consistent 10 new members a month, and the numbers only climb as our presence grows in our region.

Other things to consider

• Not charging for drop-ins (who contribute relatively less) for the access to space that you charge to members (who contribute relatively more) is disrespectful to the people who pay their hard earned money and contribute
• What kind of people continually use something that provides value and are OKAY with not paying for it? Now compare that with people who happily pay for the things that make their lives better. Who would you rather spend your time doing business next to?

So free is bad?

Absolutely not. But it’s unwise in an early stage business to give ANYTHING away that you wouldn’t otherwise charge for. Instead, give away things that cost you nothing!

• Run free events and make them awesome and open to anyone. Work with local businesses as sponsors. Find a local bar or restaurant and make them your watering hole. They’ll appreciate you consistently bringing them customers, and you’ll love having a place you can walk into and have a good chance of bumping into someone you know.
• Partner with other local organizations and cross promote ideas, events, and opportunities when your core values align. Don’t be a logo slut: make sure partnerships are mutually beneficial, and you’re giving with purpose.
• Share knowledge. Collective knowledge is at the core of coworking and a great way to get people in the mindset of sharing is to lead by example. What have you learned that you can give away and will be interesting and of value to your member-potentials. Who else has interesting valuable things to share, and what formats can you help provide for sharing that?
• Start or support a local Jelly! Many have said that Jelly is a gateway drug to coworking, but I’ve discouraged coworking spaces from hosting Jelly in their spaces for all of the reasons I’ve outlined in this piece. Instead, participate in a local Jelly as members of your coworking space and go with the intent to meet people, not with the intent to recruit. Help a Jelly get started, but I wouldn’t run your own. Heck, even send the people who don’t want to pay for your membership to a Jelly as a free coworking alternative. Let them get hooked on a free version of coworking…there’s a great chance they may end up back on your doorstep wanting “Jelly Everyday” and decide to try out that membership after all.

P.S. Hey Alex, what about offering TOTALLY free coworking all day, every day?

That’s another post, another day.

Back in the fall, I was approached by David Hauser from Grasshopper with interest in helping him set up a new coworking space in Boston. David’s whole “empowering entrepreneurs to change the world” value statement for Grasshopper is clear alignment with coworking, far beyond the business proposition. Furthermore, on a very personal note, he might be the only person I’ve met in business who harps on core values as an operating model more than me.

I dig that.

David and I quickly made it past the superficial conversations about coworking spaces and got to talking about community, people, empowerment, higher purpose, and the big questions like “why” we do things the way we do them at IndyHall. David’s eyes went wide and I watched him “get it”. He said, “more people need to hear this, why haven’t you written it down?”

Fact is, I have written it down. Most of it, in fact. The problem was that it was all over the place. Blog posts on this site as well as IndyHall.org. Literally hundreds of posts to the Coworking Google Group. But no cohesive story arc unless you got me in a room and put a beer in my hand.

So we decided that it was valuable enough for David to get behind the project, not just for himself, but with the goal to create something that would help many others kick ass. The end result of the project be something with larger value.

And so, I began writing The Coworking Book.

Now before I go on to post the excerpt, I’m sure you’re asking,

“But what about everybody else that’s written about their experiences? Who the hell are you, one guy, to tell this story by yourself?”

If you’re not asking that question, you should be, because I asked myself the question long and hard before deciding how this project would take form.

Instead of thinking I could take on that task, I instead set out to write the framework. That’s it. I’m building a framework that we can hang ideas from, and to guide people in to coworking from whatever vantage point they are coming from.

I’m writing what I hope is a cohesive story arc that makes the content interesting, valuable, and somewhat linear. And I’m telling it from a single lens: my own.

That’s version 0.1. The alpha. My version. That’s what I’m releasing this week at SXSWi. I’m going to be taking time out of my schedule while in Austin to put the finishing touches on the work I’ve done so far, and to follow my own advice - just effing ship.

Beyond alpha

My plans for next steps are to begin something that begins to look like the communal composition of some of the oldest texts in history. I’ve decided that within the margins of each paragraph of each chapter of version 0.1, I’m inviting people to tell their stories.

Through their own lense.

There are going to be holes that need filling in. I need you to patch them. There are going to be disagreements on points of execution. We need to discuss them.

But in the framework I’ve constructed, there are always decision-guiding tools to make resolving disagreements simpler and to remove ego, including mine, from the end product.

All of the discussion that goes on in the margins will then be folded in to the primary text with some guidance and support of others. What others? My hope is that some people step up from the margins and want to become co-curators.

Addendum: For the coders in the room, think of the main text as the trunk, the commentary as patch submissions/pull requests, and the curators as “core team”. And lets not forget the ever growing user base that ultimately will want to use this tool because it helps them kick ass.

The tool we’ll be using to collaborate is actually built on top of WordPress, it’s called Digress.it. It’s a plugin + a theme, and while it’s not perfect, it’s pretty badass. This sort of interface was largely inspired by the DjangoBook, the official book for the Django Project, a framework for the programming language Python. What’s important to me is that people can comment with accountability and attribution on every post AND every paragraph individually, and this tool gives exactly that.

On Curation

Dave Troy has been talking about a “curatorial economy” on his blog, and its an idea that I like. Curatorial is not inherently exclusionary. It does, however, push for people to step up to plate and act. The ones who are considered are the ones who act. It’s not the same as a “do-ocracy”, where those who do get to make the decisions. This is about guiding but not imposing.

Curation is about making a choice, but with shared and articulated vision.

And that is my hope for the final product of The Coworking Book. That through a number of iterations, and communal curation, the work product that emerges is a clear, high value, extremely accessible utility for people interested in the past, present, and future of work.

Lots of commas in that last sentence. Sorry about that.

About the content

This part is important: forever, each version of the text, and the related comments and discussions in the margin, will remain online for free. Searchable. With 100% attribution.

At some point, we’ll need to “release”. Versions will each have a roadmap, with a set of goals that it needs to accomplish. When we achieve those goals, the book will be released.

When we reach a 1.0 version, we’ll only have a snapshot. It won’t be the bible, because it will continue to evolve. But we’ll have a snapshot, something that’s missing from the history books for our movement and our community.

The important part is this: we don’t stop at version 1.0. We don’t ever stop. We keep telling this story, and evolving the text. The growth and change in the sphere of coworking has changed immensely in only 3 years, and the change is accelerating. Lets snapshot things now so we can continue to measure that growth moving forward.

And without further adieu, I present you with an excerpt from the chapter “Finding your Coworkers”.

FIGHT CLUB

If you’ve seen the movie “Fight Club”, the main character who’s known as “Jack” is a hypochondriac who attends self help groups to feel better about himself. Demented and selfish intentions aside, something interesting happens to Jack: he meets Marla Singer, another self-help group junkie. In order to not appear awkward in front of their group members, they decide to split up the nights.

There’s a good chance you’re going to find a similar situation along your journey of community exploration. Except this time, this works to your advantage instead of being a detractor like in Jack and Marla’s relationship.

When you start recognizing people at multiple events, or on multiple lists…you’ve found another connector.

Connectors are the most important people in any community building effort because they are catalysts for speeding up your process. If a person is already dedicated enough to be participating in multiple events and groups, it’s not a reach to think they might want to team up with you to more efficiently map the topography of events and activities going on. They might even be able to help find more connectors.

These connectors tend to also make great leaders, and are critical to the mobilization efforts you’ll be embarking on very soon.

Over time, you will find yourself building a map of the existing communities and the active pieces of your region. Coworking can augment many of them, and they can all provide channels for potential members for your space.

More mature communities may already have these maps established, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go through this process on your own. You may uncover something that hasn’t received as much exposure as it deserves and it will go on to be one of your greatest assets once you open a space.

The full post is worth reading, but two quotes stood out to me:

…It’s an issue of how you define capital and return.

My hypothesis is that we need a whole new regime for quantifying the value of businesses that have goals other than strictly financial profit. We need hard numbers – real metrics – to demonstrate the value of initiatives that create value for society beyond the payment of staff and the generation of profits for shareholders.

But the “R” [in ROI] – the return – isn’t simply financial profit: it’s economic utility, real benefits being enjoyed by society.

This leads me to something else that I always find hard to articulate: the ROI of IndyHall, or even coworking in general.

We’ve been running IndyHall for nearly 3 years as a business for a reason, and a profitable one at that. But the metrics for ROI aren’t salient, since most of the investment has been in human, knowledge, and time capital, and the return doesn’t show up on our balance sheet. As such, Geoff and I don’t take a draw, at least not in terms of cash…because that’s not what’s we’ve invested. If there was a balance sheet for the social capital we’ve invested and seen in return, though, and we had metrics for it, we’d be able to far better express and share what we’ve accomplished.

Gatekeepers are the leading cause of confusion, dissent, and ultimately their own demise.

Don’t be a gatekeeper.

Instead, find every way possible to help people say “yes” and allow them to execute.

The outcome is world changing.

Permission is a highly underutilized leadership skill. Let’s see if we can’t change that.

Mission #1: Try saying “yes” to something trivial that you would normally say no to, and watch what happens.

One of my side ventures is as the business manager for Two Guys on Beer. Johnny, Dave, Joe, and I have been producing this show together for almost 2 years now…Joe and I officially on the team for a bit over a year now. We’ve had some really incredible successes under our belt, not the least of which is a syndication on Philly.com’s beer page, participating in Philly Beer Week last year that resulted in interviews with beer legends Sam Calagione and Jim Koch, BeerCamp – a homebrewers summit attended by 200+ homebrew fans, fantastic relationships with a number of breweries & restaurants, and of course over 130 episodes in the bag.

The team works hard for a project that we’ve been slowly…slowly….turning into what we believe can be a profitable venture. We joke that we’re at the point where people send us beer, and that’s awesome…but the real goal is to make money drinking beer. The truth is, we have a higher purpose based on 4 core values that we think will help us make that a reality:

• Advocate Beer
• Grow the Craft Beer Community
• Make Knowledge Available
• Build Beer Relationships

Even with these core values, things get tough…especially with a project that is a passion project for the whole team right now. It’s hard to remember, sometimes, “why are we doing this again!?!”.

Then, you get e-mails like this:

TGOB:

You guys are AWESOME! I love experimenting with different beers, but I can’t find good beer while the US Army has me stationed here in Korea. I download your podcasts onto my Zune and watch them as I drink some malty Philipino beers (the only thing decent you can find here), and your show makes me feel like I’m home. Keep the shows coming; you keep me from feeling homesick. You guys rock.

2LT Vandergraff

6-52 AMD, 35th ADA BDE, South Korea

Wow. That’s the kind of thing that really puts things into perspective, and how important having core values can be.

Without our core values, the product that Two Guys on Beer produces wouldn’t be what it is today, and the team probably wouldn’t keep pouring our time and hearts into the show. But most importantly, 2Lt Todd Vandergraff wouldn’t be able to enjoy beer as a way to stay connected to home.

I’ve got a lot of thoughts about their announcement of NewsInkubator, their Knight News Foundation grant application, that I’m still tuning and molding, but I think that it’s important that Technically Philly is able to sustain itself without the NEED for those grant resources.

They have a phenomenal community of readers, and an increasing number of those readers fall into the category of “we like what you do and want to do something about it”. My decision to sponsor is not to get a link or attribution every week…quite frankly I’d be just as happy without it. The reason I decided to sponsor TechnicallyPhilly was to lead with my actions rather than just my words.

I attended their first Technically Philly Happy Hour earlier this week and the ~30 people who also attended came from all corners of the technology scene in Philadelphia. My favorite part about the people who I met was that it was my first time seeing many of them. The fact that Technically Philly is able to act as a hub, as a connector, between disparate but related industries in Philadelphia is something that they recognize as valuable, and I’m thrilled that they’re able to find ways to execute with that connectedness.

Things like this, among many others, inspired me to put my money where my mouth is. $50/month isn’t nominal, and there’s of course a tradeoff. Think about $50:

It’s 3 dinners cooked at home instead of out at a restaurant (average $20). Homecooked food is better for you anyway.

It’s 5 walks (or even buses) across town instead of jumping in a taxi (average $10 from old city to 30th st). That walk will not only make you feel better, but you’ll see the city from the sidewalk instead of the street.

It’s 3 CDs or DVDs you wait to add to your collection (average $20). What’s the last good thing Hollywood put out anyway? Except IronMan and its impending sequel. I want to be Tony Stark when I grow up.

It’s 13 coffees brewed yourself instead of going to Starbucks and getting a $4 latte.

It’s 8 cheesesteaks (average $7). Ok, I hope you’re not eating 8 cheesesteaks a month. That’d be absurd.  http://thisiswhyyourefat.com/. ‘Nuff said.

And speaking of fat…you’re not even using that gym membership but you pay $40+/month for it. If you’re gonna toss that money at something, why not something that actually has value?

You get my point.

$50/month isn’t a subscription to Technically Philly, and I don’t think it should be thought of that way. It’s a way of supporting something that I hope becomes an institution in Philadelphia, and continues to grow with this community.

“We’d love to wait for you to come on board and help us, but fuck it, we’re gonna do it anyway.” – From Scene but not Nerd, January 2007.

The sentiment hasn’t changed for me, it won’t change anytime soon, and this past weekend’s events illustrate a very important part: the sentiment is shared by more than just this angsty technologist.

DIY, or “Do It Yourself” for the uninitiated, means more than just “bottom up” for this town.

It means that people have a true sense of ownership, and a true sense of pride, in what they make, and why shouldn’t the city that they live and work in be a part of their portfolio?

BeerCamp Philly was more than a party (and believe me, there ain’t no party like an IndyHall Party, cuz an IndyHall party don’t stop), but a framework for achieving many of the important aspects normally not achieved by DIY.

First, the notion of doing it yourself seems to imply two things:

• Do it BY yourself
• Do it FOR yourself

BeerCamp debunked that in a big way, and put a stake in the ground for an fast growing, almost entirely underground community of homebrewers.

Among the takeaways I heard as the night played out, two important ones were recurring, and I believe the most important.

• Many of our participating homebrewers don’t get to taste their beer with anyone outside of the group of friends with whom that they brew. That’s a lost opportunity for creating a feedback loop to learn from.
• Many of our homebrewers don’t get to taste other homebrewer’s beer, and compare notes. Yet another lost opportunity to accelerate their learning process, and continue to experiment.

I should point out that it is my intuition that homebrewing is a social activity, and very few people do it 100% solo, but I’m not sure about that.

In one night, we connected 11 brewers to each other, and simultaneously introduced them to our sold-out attendance of well over 200 beer-lovers.

Brewers shared notes about process, junior brewers learning technique from a senior generation (and not surprisingly, some of those newer brewers had some things of their own to teach).

The act of “doing it yourself” for these brewers took something they did for craft, became a shared experience with a much larger audience, many of whom were new faces to our community.

In those series of moments, everything accelerated. Not just during the event itself, but with lasting effects that have yet to be seen unfold.

That’s the difference. Lasting effects because they have skin in the game from here on out.

During BarCamp Philly II, which was probably the dozenth’ or so “unconference” event I’ve attended in the last couple of years, something similar occured.

These people, and the dozens more that are out of frame and that came throughout the day, seized an opportunity to take 7 hour schedule and make it their own.

At 8am, there was no conference schedule. At 10am, 12 rooms had organized into over 50 sessions. The schedule board was full, and the organizers reacted by adding a 13th track, making room for up to 6 more presenters.

For all of the energy put into carefully crafting a conference schedule that’s ideal for an event’s agenda, I think this one came out pretty well.

Note the diversity, by the way. BarCamp Philly has begun to leave the realm of “geeks only” (only a couple of Twitter/social media sessions, and a healthy smattering of tech-oriented sessions), and is now also strongly trending into business, communication, education, law, art, music, and culture.

Back to Doing It Yourself.

For many attendees (I’d estimate well over half based on a show of hands at the beginning of the day), BarCamp Philly II was not only their first BarCamp, but their first exposure to the broader community of people moving and shaking in Philadelphia. At every event since the 2007 BlogPhiladelphia I co-organized with Annie Heckenberger, I’ve heard the same phrase over and over:

“I had no idea so much was happening in my own back yard”

And that’s just it. There is already so much going on in our own back yard.

Much of it, without the traditional focus on “What resources don’t we have and how do we get them?”, and with more of a focus on, “What can we accomplish with what we’ve already got?”.

Also, while it’s a little bit hard to be sure from session titles alone, I think you can deduce (and others can confirm) that BarCamp Philly was much less instructive, and far more interactive and conversational.

It wasn’t just about getting people to share ideas (which is fine, but not intrinsically productive), but about finding ways to help ideas connect.

That’s the difference between being told it’s a good idea to share your ideas, or having ideas shared with you, and having some skin in the game yourself.

Receiving pre-synthesized information leaves out all of the opportunity for self-discovery, idea branching and merging, and ultimately, innovative thinking becomes unidirectional.

Presenter->Audience.

Kung Fu Master->Grasshopper.

Yoda->Luke.

Mentor->Mentee.

Those relationships are valuable and important, but it’s not the only way to do things.

We’re doing this a little bit differently, we’re doing it ourselves.

When the participants of BarCamp Philly come together to decide what’s important enough to talk about, and dialogue about it, serendipity accelerates in a big way.

And because they have skin in the game, the lasting effects are strong, and most exciting for me, yet to be seen.

So these events were a success, right?

Well, yes.

The organizers totally dominated in putting together an incredible event framework, and worked their asses off to make sure that participants of the events could be effective. Roz Duffy, JP Toto, and Kelani Edmondson are quickly becoming master event planners and organizers. Kara LaFleur joins them as an extraordinary volunteer who just gets things done, and even more, coordinates volunteer efforts in force, allowing big things to happen when all you’ve got is a bunch of willing hands.

That said, as I titled my unusually somber and introspective session with Geoff, “We’re not done yet”.

If my personal goal was to be able to travel the country sharing and learning along with other people working to improve their cities, I’d be happy saying I’ve achieved that goal.

If my personal goal was to generate press (for better or for worse) around our efforts, more than once gracing the front page of established print and digital publications around the world, I’d be happy saying I achieved that goal.

If my personal goal was to be surrounded by, and work with (but not for) some of the smartest, most driven, talented, and incredible people you can possibly imagine, I’d be happy saying I’d achieved that goal.

Luckily, those personal goals are all being achieved as the first chapter of a much longer story is being written. There are a lot of characters already (rivaling a Tolkein novel at this point), and the cast is only growing.

I’m not writing this book, we all are.

We haven’t even finished the first chapter, Philadelphia.

The fun is just getting started.

Ask any of my friends, and they’ll tell you, I’m not a sports fan.

I’ve explained it all kinds of ways:

I don’t like sports.

I don’t like sports fans.

I don’t understand the rules.

Watching on TV is boring.

I’m allergic to sports.

At the end of the day, I’ve just never been into competitive sports, because I’m a different type of competitive. I’m much more into competing with myself, so I like solo sports like rock climbing and snow boarding.

Even when I’ve watched sports that I do like, I’ve never followed them. I never memorized player stats, or knew where a team stood in a given championship.

I had nothing to personally gain or lose from knowing, or not knowing any of those things.

So why, on earth, would I take the risk of blowing my “personal brand” as a sports luddite?

I love the vibe of Philly pride.

Philly’s sense of pride is something special, and I’ve made mention of it on this blog in a negative light.

It’s fickle, and our city’s pride in our sports teams is a blister of an example for it.

But when its good, when it’s uniting, it’s a beautiful thing to be a part of a city that is proud.

I’ve been watching sports because right now, Philadelphia is proud of something for the right reasons. I wish that pride of being a Philadelphian permeated more than just the sports season. I’m watching Philadelphia sports so I can understand what about it makes us so proud, so it can be applied elsewhere in our daily lives.

Hopefully, I’ve still got my street cred.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/alexharris/3362545031/

It’s hardly a secret that I’m a karaoke fan.

I’m a regular at a handful of the best karaoke nights in Philadelphia, not the least of which is the regular Tuesday Night Crowd with DJ Joe H at National Mechanics (which we’ve lovingly dubbed TechKaraokePHL), and more recently, the Skeletor Karaoke Gong Show at the Trocadero.

I toured across the US with 4 friends in a Winnebago that we converted into a mobile karaoke lounge.

I competed (and placed 3rd) in the first annual Happy Cog Cogaoke Karaoke competition at SXSW09, singing “Fight for your right” by the Beastie Boys. The result? Long time inspiration and mentor Jeff Zeldman approached me in the hall the next day to tell me I “f*$king rocked”.

I’m a bit of a microphone whore to begin with, but when it comes to belting out tracks, I’ve been known to sing until my vocal chords give out.

I even wrote, nay, CRAFTED the ultimate karaoke playlist for the blog Nonpretentious.

I’m not the only one who’s obsessed though.

Raina Lee, who I met during Whuffaoke in LA, wrote a book called “Hit Me with Your Best Shot: The Ultimate Guide to Karaoke Domination“. Epic, right?

And one karaoke mentor, who I’ve yet to meet but have been dying to, is Brian Raferty, author of “Don’t Stop Believin’: How Karaoke Conquered the World and Changed My Life“.

I truly believe that Brian’s thesis is right, and having completed the Whuffaoke tour, I firmly believe that Karaoke CAN change a person’s life…and quite possibly the world.

I think that karaoke has some of the most important qualities of an event that, as a society, we need now more than ever before.

Karaoke is empowering.

Karaoke is a form of creative expression, musically and theatrically.

Karaoke helps build strong bonds between people.

Karaoke makes people smile.

I’m super stoked that Philly’s First Person Arts Festival has brought Brian in from Brooklyn for an event this Friday at the Painted Bride, called: Karaoke Obsessed. First Person Arts is notorious in Philly for bringing some of the best events centered around story-telling to life, including the extremely popular Story Slam.

Tickets for Karaoke Obsessed are $15 for FPA members, $20 for non-members. If you’re a karaoke fan, a story telling fan, or you want me to sing my BEST new track (and hear why I love singing it), I recommend joining me this Friday, November 6th, from 9-11pm. Tickets are available online.

There’s still a massive amount of distortion in the continuing debate about my posts, mostly circling around the assertion that “bottom up” is better than “top down”. That wasn’t the point, unfortunately. My two attempts to articulate what I was feeling were largely misinterpreted, thanks to fragmented conversations.

Someone will inevitably make the statement that if I’d participated in the summit, the fragmented conversation could be unified.

In the words of Billy Joel,

You’re may be right. I may be crazy. But it just may be a lunatic you’re looking for.

My point was to make some observations about concerns that I have based on things that I see in front of me, through my own lens. My goal was to encourage people think for themselves, not to agree or disagree with me.

That’s a hard thing to do without a little radical expression.

I’ve had conversations like the one on my  blog at least 50 times in the last 2 years with various members of the community. Many times with different conclusions, often times resulting in more questions than answers. Rather than continue having it behind closed doors, it seemed like it could be helpful to discuss things in the open.

I’ve spoken with a LOT of people about the posts, and the resulting discussions, in private. It seems that’s where a lot of people are more comfortable having difficult conversations. I understand why, but I think it’s a damn shame that people aren’t comfortable being honest in the open. Smart people. People I respect.

I’ve had some of those people tell me I am an unreasonable douchebag. I’ve had some of those people tell me they are happy that I spoke up. I’ve had some of those people tell me that they don’t really understand what all of the fuss is about.

I’ve had moments where I said to myself, “Why’d you even bring that it up?”. Then I remember, “because nobody else would”.

I guess there’s another Billy Joel song worth remembering. For all of the ego I slung in the “controversial” essay I wrote, I hope those of you who know me realize how reality tempers my words.

It’s been an interesting couple of weeks.

Today is day one of the Global Creative Economy Convergence Summit, and I’m still not attending. But a lot of you are, either as a presenter or an attendee. Or a sponsor. Or a volunteer.

My honest to goodness hope hope is that this discussion over the last 3-4 weeks has heightened your senses about what you might, or might not experience in the next two days.

I’m not a fortuneteller, so I don’t know what you’re in for. Nobody does. But if you’re reading this, that means you’re paying attention.

If you’re a presenter, I congratulate you, and hope that you’re met with a welcoming audience and an opportunity to make an impact.

If you’re an attendee, I implore you, to look around at the people and their actions and interactions as they are happening around you.

If you’re a volunteer, I hope this experience proves valuable experience and you take lessons learned and organize your own events as well. This city is ripe for them.

If you’re a Philadelphian, I hope you show our out-of-town guests what makes Philly truly awesome.

If you’re visiting from out of town, I hope you enjoy your stay, and you get to see more of our city than our Convention Center. A lot of us like it here, and I hope you get a glimpse into why.

And everyone who is participating on any level, I hope you spend more time those two days listening than talking. There are a lot of great voices here. I hope you spend more time building new relationships than slinging business cards. I hope these relationships tighten (or begin to form) your bond with Philadelphia.

I look forward to hearing from everyone who IS attending the event about how it went.

Final thoughts, Billy Joel? Who started the fire is still up for debate, but when we’re gone, it will still burn on, and on, and on.

Disclosure: neither Billy Joel nor any of his staff actually supported this post. My lyrical references were for only effect. As far as I know, Billy won’t be at the summit either, but not because he’s angsty about it. I’m sure he’s just busy.