Today I’m headed up to Santa Rosa to speak at Adam Japko’s Multifamily Social Media Summit. Here’s a summary of what I’ll say. First, I’ll welcome the guests to Sonoma County, and try to describe a little bit about what makes it such a great home to wine. I’ve long thought of Sonoma as “California’s winiest county” (which is how I described it in A Wine Journey along the Russian River), and I think it’s fair to say that no other county has the breadth and depth of varieties and types (including sparkling wine) that Sonoma does.
Adam also asked me to talk a little about how I got into wine, so I’ll describe the way I fell head over heels in love with vino in 1978, getting deeper and deeper into it until I moved to San Francisco, in 1980, and became a denizen of the city’s better wine shops (which back then you could count on the finger of both hands). I’ll describe my career thus far and how I landed the job of reviewing California wine for Wine Enthusiast.
Since this is a social media event, I’ll talk about my own experiences in this sphere–about how and why I started my blog in 2008. (I can hardly believe it’s been that long.) Adam’s main thing, of course, is to promote the use of social media as a tool for busy professionals (this particular event is for apartment complex managers who want to learn how to use social media to make their jobs easier and better). I’m not particularly in a position to advise them on that, but what I can do is describe how my blog has made my life easier and better, and also how it’s contributed to my “brand.”
Now, I don’t really think of myself as a “brand,” but I know that some people do, because they tell me so; and Adam himself sees me that way. (Of course, he also sees me as a human being and a friend, which is how I want to be seen!). However, I’m objective enough to understand that there is a sort of branding process going on with me, in terms of having a reputation, and Adam wants to know how my reputation (or the way I perceive it) has been impacted by my blog.
I suppose–and, again, this is based on what people tell me–that my reputation has been enhanced by it. I don’t mean “enhanced” in terms of people thinking better or more highly of me, but in the sense that more people have heard of me because of my blog. It’s quantitative enhancement, if you will, not qualitative enhancement. I think Adam is eager for the apartment complex managers to hear from someone who started out as a total ignoramus when it came to blogging, and ended up with quite a successful little blog–not financially, for this gig doesn’t make any money, but in terms of being popular.
Here are tips I’ll give the apartment managers for a blog (and many of these tips can be extended to other forms of social media as well:
1. post frequently.
2. post with passion.
3. personalize your posts. Don’t write like you’re some anonymous automaton. Let people feel your humanity through your words.
4. provide links, where appropriate, to off-site pages that bolster your arguments or otherwise amplify your message.
5. provide photos and/or videos.
6. don’t take criticism too seriously. I doubt if apartment complex managers will get the same kind of slamming I sometimes do, but if they do, they should laugh it off.
7. don’t expect an immediate return on your investment. In fact, you might never see ROI, measured as dollars. The point of blogging, and social media in general, is brand building. Which leads to my final discussion
What is “brand building”? I would argue it’s none other than forming relationships. In the case of social media, they’re digital relationships, but that’s all right, they’re still relationships. You have conversations with others that are real-time, and this allows readers to feel that they’re part of your life. Or, more correctly, that both of you are part of a bigger social life. Partners, in a sense–co-participants in something grand and lovely. That’s how it seems to me: my biggest gripe with winery social media (including web pages) is that the content often seems grudging. It’s like they feel they have to put something up, but it’s not grand or lovely, not personal, not selfless. Selfless? Yes. You can’t be holding onto something and be successful at social media. The late sports writer Red Smith was said to have replied, in response to whether writing a daily column wasn’t hard, “Why, no. You simply sit down at the typewriter, open your veins, and bleed.” He didn’t mean that literally, obviously, and he didn’t mean that it was an incredibly difficult thing to do. What he meant by “bleed” is what we might call “letting it all hang out.” Putting all your cards on the table–being genuine. Social media types call it being “authentic” and “transparent,” and it’s hard to explain; you just have to learn how to be that way (and you can’t be that way online if you’re not that way offline, in real life).
Does that sound a bit esoteric? I suppose it does. But it’s what I’m going to tell the apartment complex managers.
The journalist/entrepreneur Adam Japko wrote this profile of me in his online publication, WineZag. It’s odd reading about oneself from the point of view of another, but I think Adam “got” me. It makes me sound rather like an idiot savant, but I like it. Following are excerpts from his long article:
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While California wines were losing my attention, Steve Heimoff grabbed it. That may sound like an oddity since Steve is known for his sustained and successful career as California Editor at the Wine Enthusiast and, before that, the Wine Spectator. Actually, it wasn’t strange in my world; I study journalists with a knack for integrating new digital media strategies alongside their hardened routines with the level of intense scrutiny you might give to fantasy sports team picks (I would have drafted Steve Long ago). Surprisingly to me, Steve didn’t, nor does he now, not even in the least bit, think about grand strategy. He is driven to write by visceral experience and emotional reward, a refreshing and wholly palatable outlook on regular digital media content creation. This week I was fortunate to have spent three hours in Oakland with Steve, over a latte I wish hadn’t ended, to better understand what makes him tick.
Steve was furiously posting 5x a week at SteveHeimoff.com (admittedly only missing three daily deadlines since 2008, two from hangovers) for an entire year by the time I launched WineZag in May of 2009. It is one of the few blogs I try to read every day. He has something relevant to offer in as authentic and consistent a voice as any. It has become a key read and go-to destination for the California wine trade to tee up their points of view in response to Steve’s volleys. I asked him how many posts he’s published and he told me to do the math; the fact is he does not keep track. Audience size and numbers do not drive Steve. He writes because for him “it’s like sex.” Enough said?
With one of the most popular blogs in the entire wine blogosphere, Steve only has the vaguest idea of who his readers are, where they come from, what his most popular search terms are, or how many real subscribers he has. He’s not even certain what an RSS feed is. I don’t mention any of this to malign him, nor to point out any inadequacies. It’s just contextually interesting how focused so many wine bloggers are on facilitating measurable outcomes from their blogging, and how little Steve cares about anything other than engagement around two things he is most passionate about; wine and journalism. Steve curiously and good spiritedly chided a very high profile blogger, who I won’t mention here, that told him his ultimate goal was to build an asset so Rupert Murdoch could buy it for $1M. The curious part, for Steve, was that it is something he never thought about, could not fathom, nor understood anything about the aspects nor prospects of structuring such a deal.
A couple weeks ago I published a round-up post on Tom Wark’s, Steve Heimoff’s, and Alder Yarrow’s recent thoughts on the wine blogosphere called Wine Blog Confessions. Tom left a comment underscoring the vast variety of reasons people start their blogs, and that when he started Fermentation he “simply wanted a venue to express ideas and thoughts about my industry and try to start conversations. This turned out to be good for my business as a wine publicist and marketer. Interestingly, I had no idea that would be one of the outcomes of me mouthing off in a blog. Who knew?”
Fascinatingly, Steve struggles to talk demonstratively about the benefits SteveHeimoff.com offers his personal brand or other aspects of his career. His brain just isn’t wired that way, so I will speak for him. His value to the Wine Enthusiast has increased exponentially from his blogging…On a personal note, I never paid attention to Steve before I found his blog. Now, I read the Wine Enthusiast to understand more about his perspectives and dual approach to covering California wine and its community.
Having watched Steve work the rigors of daily blogging alongside a non-trivial traditional journalism job for the last three years, I just assumed he figured out ways to save time and create efficiencies between the blog and magazine content creation. No such thing. Steve does not plan his blog topics in advance the way structured calendars are organized at the Wine Enthusiast. Surrendering all research and planning advantages that other working journalists will leverage across multiple related assignments, Steve just hopes he is “lucky and the gods deliver the topic the day before. Otherwise I have until 8am, filled with the anxiety associated with the need to push the publish button.
So why does somebody like Steve Heimoff, cemented as a welcomed and authoritative wine critic in the California wine community submit himself to the hard work of blogging? According to Steve, “because I love it. I am writing about what I want to write about. In a life that can sometimes be hard and cruel, it is a warm safety net. It isn’t about search engines and traffic, it is just the opposite for me. It’s something that I can get emotional about, it is simply a source of great joy.” Hardly sounds like the cunning independent journalist that took to the internet to capture his share of mind, propel his personal brand, or for any other business reason you might think of.
While I was disappointed I didn’t find the agenda driven and tactical journalist I thought I might, I was buoyed by the depth of human decency I discovered instead. This was not the Steve Heimoff I expected to meet. Was this the barking Democrat, instigative blogger, and opinionated writer I followed for so long? I always knew him from his writing as a man to speak his mind and then stand by it, never to be pushed around. His positions are firm, sometimes curious, but always firmly defended when attacked. His voice always reflects confidence and strength. But in the end, he is just a grown boy from the boroughs of New York City like me; a place you learn to work with emotion, value human engagement, and defend your turf with whatever force is required. Next, I will share a brief Q&A from more of my conversation with Steve on blogging and journalism.
This article, from a South African wine website, says how the South African National Wine Show Association (of which the U.S. or California does not seem to have an equivalent) came up with a new contest, the Young Wine Writers Competition, “to enhance the art and importance of high quality wine journalism.”
I wish we in the States could do the same thing. It is true that we have the American Wine Blog Awards, which has its place, and has become (by virtue of being the first and only) the most important wine competition in the country. But that particular contest does nothing to enhance “high quality wine journalism.” That is its chief failure.
In order to avoid this failure, the South African Young Wine Writers Competition has two rigorous rules:
1. Writers must submit “an 800 word article…on one of the following subjects: (a) the role of wine in everyday life OR (b) describe the difference between wines to be enjoyed as ‘quaffers’ and wines that do justice to certain cuisines.”
2. Submit “a blog post of 300 words about the most unusual wine the writer has ever tasted.”
What great challenges for young writers! I wonder how many of today’s American wine bloggers, including some of the most famous, have ever written 800 words on an assigned topic–long-form journalism that requires critical thinking and writing skills, as opposed to a 140-character tweet or slapdash blog post? Such a test in extended writing is more in line with competitions like the Master Sommelier or Master of Wine than the Wine Blog Awards, where a popular vote weighs heavily in the results.
If you have to write 800 words on a topic that will be judged by professional writers, they’d better be 800 pretty good words! For that matter, try writing 1500 words or 2000 words on a specific topic–or a book that’s not some piece of junk no one will care about 15 minutes from now. Those things require journalism, and underlie a wine writer’s true worth.
Good writing consists of correct grammar and syntax, complex layering of sentences and paragraphs, a gradual buildup of tension until the final point has been achieved, and, of course, a tantalizing introduction (to stimulate people to continue reading) and a satisfying conclusion. All that, in addition to a mastery of the subject matter, and having an actual point to make! The trouble with the quick and dirty style of blog writing is that all too often it seems pointless–mere observations or scattered impressions, thrown willy-nilly onto the page, with no organization or intellectual point of view worth the reader’s attention.
Wine journalism, like all journalism, is important only if it maintains high standards of integrity, knowledgeability, factual accuracy and educational value. Yes, there’s a place for lighter-style writing a la People Magazine, but would we ever want People to replace a real newspaper or professional broadcast news program? I don’t think so. For the wine industry and culture, professional wine journalism has been its bloodstream for two centuries, maybe longer depending on how you measure it. With the advent on online writing–its ease and availability for everyone to instantaneously publish to the world–the quality of wine writing has been sinking. How many wine blogs can you say engage in authentic journalism?
So kudos to the South Africans. They at least understand the importance of longer-form writing. Is there some way we can come up with a similar competition here in America, or in California? I’d be willing to lend a hand to its organizing.
With readership of my blog exploding, I thought this would be a good time to let newcomers know a little more about me and my background.
First, some numbers. (All of the following statistics are reported by my web host, Newtek Web Hosting, a company I’m very happy with. I know that their numbers vary, sometimes significantly, from numbers reported by other third party sources that purport to count metrics (such as Google). I’ve never been able to account for these discrepancies. Maybe some smart tech-oriented person out there can explain it to me!)
– Over the past year, daily visits to my blog have risen from around 4,000-5,000 to 7,000-12,000 and occasionally as high as 14,000.
– In the same time period, monthly unique visitors have gone from around 55,000 to 135,000, and continue to rise.
– My readers also are increasingly international. While 61% of page views are from the U.S., the remainder are mainly from, in descending order, China, Brazil, the Ukraine, France, the United Kingdom, Russia, Germany and Canada.
Following my recent nomination for Best Overall Wine Blog, I’ve been getting comments and private emails from lots of new visitors. It’s to them–to you–I’d like to introduce myself.
I began blogging in May, 2008, because I wanted to join this important new chorus of voices in a free, independent and dynamic format of communication. I had no idea how to blog, what to say or even if anyone would bother reading my blog. But I figured that if I could write strongly and honestly, people would like it. (“If you build it, they will come.”) I think I found my “voice” (as writers say) early on, and once I did, I became comfortable with it. I like to think that readers appreciate the opportunity to get inside my head in a way that may not be possible with other well-known wine writers who take a more ivory-tower approach and who may feel that being transparent and real somehow jeopardizes their reputations.
I don’t do wine reviewing here, because that’s what I do at Wine Enthusiast Magazine. There is no direct connection between my writing here and at the magazine. They don’t compete; each venue lets me express myself in a different way.
Longtime readers know that I fell in love with wine when I moved to the San Francisco Bay area to go to grad school in the late 1970s. I quickly became involved in the wine scene, which was largely an underground one: Even in San Francisco, wine was not as popular as it is now, and one had to seek out like-minded wine lovers. Very early on, I began hosting tasting seminars for friends and co-workers, and what I lacked in formal knowledge I more than made up for in passion. I learned a great deal from reading. Hugh Johnson, Michael Broadbent and Harry Waugh–all Brits–were my favorite writers. Their style (however you want to describe it) influenced my own, which I think of as formal yet relaxed, intimate yet thoughtful, friendly and non-intimidating–and certainly, well-written. I can sometimes bring in an element of good old American snark, a tendency I have to watch.
My “beat” at Wine Enthusiast is the California wine scene, mainly the coastal areas from Napa-Sonoma in the north down through the Central Coast to Santa Barbara. I have been stunned to watch the progress these regions have made, in the quality of their wines. It’s been tremendous to witness this over the last 20-plus years, and it remains a privilege today to visit these places and see so many hard-working, dedicated people determined to make their wines ever greater, even as a new generation supplants an older one.
I fell into blogging quite by accident, but in retrospect it’s one of the most wonderful things I could have done. The blogosphere and social media in general have exploded in recent years, and being part of this burgeoning revolutionary movement stimulates my intellectual and creative juices. I feel lucky to have one foot in this brave new world and another in the more traditional world of print journalism. I’ve never been one to believe it’s an either/or situation. I think print and digital can happily co-exist, and will co-exist alongside each other for many years. (It’s kind of like the way radio and T.V. co-exist. T.V. didn’t kill radio, like many predicted, any more than it killed the movies.) I don’t think paper is going away. A younger generation is discovering the joys of turning actual pages in the magazines they read, and there’s mounting evidence that the 24/7 addiction to all-things online is fading.
A big thanks to my readers, old and new. Every time someone tells me they start their day with coffee and steveheimoff.com, it feels like a blessing.
(This post was inspired by a “Viticulture Brief” that appeared in the Santa Rosa Press Democrat yesterday.)
My blog is just over five years old now, and what a crazy five years it’s been. In 2008 the wineries-and-social media arena was like the Wild West, filled with danger, opportunity, chaos, confusion, rattlesnakes and gunslingers. It was a bold proprietor who dared to jump in. Most held back, unsure of what to do, not wanting to make blunders. Like good businessmen, they preferred to let others blaze a path into terra incognita they could then follow.
Now it’s 2013. It would be sweet to say that the formula’s been figured out, but unfortunately, it hasn’t. There still is no template for wineries to trek the social media landscape–although social media consultants claim otherwise!
So what do we know now that we didn’t know in 2008?
In a way, nothing. The only difference is that what we knew then was obscure. Today, the outlines are clearer. We know for sure that direct-to-consumer (DTC) is just as important as we thought it was, and even more so for small wineries who find it hard to get distributed post-Recession. Whether it’s through a tasting room or a wine club, DTC remains the lifeline by which the family winery avoids being cast adrift and drowning.
We know, however, that DTC doesn’t happen all by itself but must be developed. There are several elements to this. One is for the consumer who’s Googling her way through the world wide web to come across your winery’s website. And not just come across it as, for instance, being #37 on a search result, but being one of the first hits, and having a provocative headline that will prompt the searcher to click on it.
For example, I just Googled “best Napa Valley Cabernet” and two of the first three hits are from me. (Yes, I was surprised, but not entirely.) Number one is an article I wrote for Wine Enthusiast, number two is Schrader’s website, and number three is a post from my blog.
Finding myself with such high visibility on such an important search topic is gratifying, of course; but the question for wineries is how they can do it. Schrader did; so did Robert Mondavi and Napa Cellars, albeit on page 2, and by the time we come to page 3, nobody’s reading anymore. This tells me that Napa Valley wineries are not doing a good job at search engine optimization.
Let’s suppose they were, through the usual tricks: Google+, key word use, extensive hyperlinks as well as linking all of your online presences to each other, and so on. But a key to landing in a top search result is frequency of online publishing. You can’t update your blog or website once a month and expect anyone to find it. It’s got to be everyday. That’s why people come back to steveheimoff.com Monday through Friday. They know they’ll always find something new (and not just some rehashed reviews).
This raises the issue of loyalty. Ask a brand manager what’s the best thing a brand can have and she’ll tell you customer loyalty. You can’t buy it (although it often money to establish). You can’t force the consumer to be loyal or do it with some gimmick. There’s magic how it happens. Jordan and Silver Oak have earned customer loyalty; their examples stand as inspirations to other wineries. This blog has earned reader loyalty. My readers never feel pandered to, or spoken down to (I would hope). They don’t get the feeling I slap-dashed some fast food together for them. Instead, they get something that appeals to their intelligence–they feel engaged. Engagement: that’s the soul of social media. Don’t talk at me, talk with me, and let me talk with you. Together, we’ll have a conversation.
Admittedly, it’s easier for me to have a conversation with readers than for a wine company. A company has too many levels of management. Everyone gets a veto; creativity is stifled in favor of white bread. But people don’t want mush; they want something substantial. Give them something real to chew on, and they’ll come back. Withhold it, and all the social media consultants in the world can’t help you.
When Merry Edwards asked me to introduce her at her induction Feb. 18 for the Vintners Hall of Fame, my first question was “Why me?” I was obviously honored, but really had no idea why Merry selected yours truly.
Her reply: “Because you’re an historian.”
Well, my reaction was, “I’m a wine critic.” I didn’t say that, but the thought instantly rose in my head. Somehow, Merry calling me “an historian” seemed to cast my role as a wine critic into a secondary light. And I take being a wine critic very seriously: rating and reviewing wine is the essence of what I do for a living.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how silly that thought was. After all, Merry knows me, not just as someone who reviews her wines, but as the author of A Wine Journey along the Russian River and New Classic Winemakers of California, in which she has her own chapter. So to Merry, I’m as much an historian as I am a critic.
And then it occurred to me: Why do we pigeonhole ourselves into categories anyway? Critic–historian–writer–journalist–blogger–these are all part and parcel of what I do. They’re just words for the totality of my love for, and interest in, wine and writing.
Actually, in terms of which came first, Merry’s right: I was an historian of wine well before I was a wine critic. I mean, in the sense that I’d made reading about the history of wine a consuming interest in my life by the late 1970s, ten years before I was ever paid to write about wine. I’m glad that, by the time I took wine writing on as a career, I’d built up a very extensive knowledge of wine history through the reading of books. That gave me a basis later on for making qualitative judgments about wine. I was able to understand that wine is (among other things) a hierarchy. There is nothing fundamentally democratic about wine, other than the fact that anyone can drink it. (Thank goodness.) Wine always has been about elitism: if you were wealthy you could afford to drink better wine than a poor man, because it costs money to produce a quality wine. It did when the Caesars had their favorites (which presumably few others could buy), and it still does. In fact, the history of Western civilization can largely be told through the spread of wine from its ancestral homeland somewhere in the Caucasus up the river valleys of Europe and, thence, to the New World.
It frightens me to think that there probably are wine “critics” out there right now–blogging away–who don’t possess a single good book on wine. Worse yet: it frightens me that there are wine writers whose chief resource is Google. I can’t imagine anything more contrary to the spirit of wine to have someone send you a sample of, say, a Muscadet, and then Google it in order to know what you’re drinking. This isn’t because there’s anything fundamentally wrong with a quick Internet search. I use Google all the time. But I use my library more. Why is a real library “better” (in every sense I can think of) than Google? Because I have inhaled my wine books until their information informs my DNA like genetic code. The patient acquisition of detailed knowledge, lovingly and painstakingly assembled over many years, can’t possibly be compared to a quick Google search. That is an insult to all great wine writers, living or dead.
And so I gratefully acceded to Merry’s request. To put her contributions in wine into historical perspective (and let us hope Merry’s career extends as far forward into the future as it does into the past), one must know the history, not only of California wine, but of world wine in general. One must understand, also, how Merry sees her own place in history (which is the purpose of the pre-interview). The history of wine involves elements from almost every aspect of human study, from anthropology to chemistry to religion to gender studies. It’s so much more than “Here’s what I think.”