Twitter-as-content-commodity was a new twist, but her conundrum was very familiar. What she was really saying was, "I know I need smart content, but I don’t want to pay for it." On a grander scale, many organizations have the same attitude.

Most people understand that content has value. Big value. They just can’t prove or measure the ROI. And, therefore, they have no concept of how much content is worth.

Proving and measuring the value of content is complex. But, as content professionals, we have to do it. I have some ideas about how to do it, but before I even go there, let’s talk about why everybody is so confused in the first place.

Brace yourselves, content folks. We’re going to talk economics. I promise there will be no math involved.

1776: Defining product value, Adam Smith style

I’m no expert in economics, but I know this much: Adam Smith was a smart dude. Back in 1776, he wrote The Wealth of Nations, a book that basically defined economics as we know it. His ideas still influence the way we assign value to things today.

For the market economy to work, Smith said products of value have three characteristics:

• Excludability: The seller can "exclude" you from owning or using the product unless you pay for it; the product is difficult to replicate so you have to buy it from the seller.

• Rivalry: It’s more expensive for two people to use the product then one person (So, I can buy a pair of shoes for $10, but if we both want to have shoes it’ll be $20).

• Transparency: Customers can see exactly what they’ll get before they buy the product.

These rules work pretty darn well for things like apples, shoes, or kazoos.  Those are the kind of tangible products people bought in 1776. (Well, kazoos weren’t invented yet, but apples and shoes surely were.) 

1956: A funny thing happened on the way to the factory
Smith’s theories worked pretty well for 180 years, but in 1956 something happened that would have surprised Adam – in the U.S. the number of white-collar jobs surpassed blue-collar jobs. 

So, instead of people working in factories and farms making tangible products, people were sitting behind desks making  …  information. Accountants creating reports, lawyers creating legislation, advertisers creating TV spots, etc., etc. In 1956, content/information was red hot. The first computers were up and running (Check out the photo below of a home computer in 1956 for proof).  Heck, Marilyn Monroe even married Arthur Miller, a playwright (you may have heard of him).

The industrial age was over. The information age had begun. Information was in demand in a way it had never been before — and Smith’s three pillars of economic value had started to blur.

1990s: Content breaks all the rules
Until the 1990s, Adam Smith three pillars seemed to be adequate, if not perfect, even for content. Before then, if you wanted some information, you bought a book or newspaper (tangible items). Sure, you could lend your book to a friend, who would get the content for free, but content creators were largely paid for their work.

But, with the advent of the internet, the pillars of value for content collapsed. 

• Excludability: Content is now easy to create, use, and replicate.

• Rivalry: When content is posted online – even if you make me pay for access – I can easily share it with millions of friends without paying a cent.

• Transparency: Once you’ve looked at content in-depth, you really don’t need to buy it, do you?

Simultaneously the business importance of good content went sky-high AND the value of content tanked (according to Adam Smith). On top of it all, the internet movement suggested that all content should be free. And society agreed. 

2009: Classical economics is toast
So, let’s recap. Today, content is one of the most important business assets in the world. AND, according to traditional economics, content has little value. AND people expect to get it for free (see newspaper industry stats). AND we’re experiencing the worst recession in 80 years.

The economic system is just plain out of date.

I wish I could tell you about the economic model of the future. (Not only would that be nice for you, but I’d make zillions.) Lots of brilliant economists have been trying to figure it out for years.

No wonder people are confused about what to pay for content strategy and creation. 

COMING SOON: The Value of Content, Part 2 (The Sequel)
Here’s what I do know. Content makes money. Content saves money. And, ROI of content can be measured.  That’s what my next blog post will be about in a few weeks.  (It’s just like when the Brady Bunch went to Hawaii – two whole episodes of non-stop fun! Just. Like. That.)

Until then if you have any great examples or ideas about content ROI, send them my way (melissa.rach@braintraffic.com). I’d love to hear about them, and I’ll include them in the blog when I can.

Don’ t get me wrong: I’m cool with the stack if there is accompanying documentation that provides content details.  But when an information architect uses the stack in place of content requirements, they are leaving the client in unexplored and dangerous territories (without even a dragon to warn them).

A little dragon goes a long way
So, I have an idea. If you’re a web professional doing information architecture and you’re not documenting content requirements, stick a dragon on your site map instead of a page stack. This will be a nice heads up for your client and particularly fun for those of you who used to be designers.

If you’re a client and you see a dragon on your site map, consider why your information architect is not worried about the information.  Then, call Brain Traffic.

P.S.: Unfortunately, that here-be-dragons bit is mostly a myth. Only one medieval artifact, the Lenox Globe (ca. 1510), actually has the phrase "here be dragons" on it. Well, technically, there’s also the Borgia map (ca. 1430), but it doesn’t really say "here be dragons." It says (over a dragon-like figure), "Here are men who have large horns of the length of four feet, and there are even serpents so large, that they could eat an ox whole."  Put that on your site map.

The Brain Traffic team sat together in the conference room to watch the inauguration yesterday. There were tears, applause, and lots of comments about Aretha Franklin's hat. Every one of us typing away on our computers—not only sharing the experience with people in the room, but those far away in cyberspace.

Talkin' 'Bout a Revolution
The Obama campaign—which has inspired so many with its themes of hope and change—has often reminded me of the "internet revolution" of the late '90s.

In retrospect, it sounds a bit trite, but anyone who worked in the first wave of interactive agencies from 1996 to 2000 will probably tell you a similar story: We went to work every day believing we were the "pioneers" of the internet age. Groups of incredibly smart people (most of us in our early 20s) toiled for small paychecks in dodgy warehouse spaces. (Revolutionaries have to suffer, right?)  But, we believed the Internet could triumph over the big corporations and big governments . . . engage the whole world in a global conversation . . . give every human being on Earth a voice.

This fervor was even documented with a manifesto—the Cluetrain Manifesto. The quote at the top of this post is not a part yesterday’s inaugural address, it's actually part of the introduction to the Cluetrain written in 1999. Thankfully, Obama's speechwriters have more talent, but Locke & Co. (Cluetrain's authors) were trying to convey a message of inclusive, universal change, too.

Storm Clouds on the Horizon
Speed ahead a few years. By 2001, the internet "bubble" was bursting. Those of us on the ground realized the big corporations that we were trying to bring to heed were actually the only clients paying us for project work. On September 11, I also sat in a conference room with my coworkers huddled around a TV. There were only nine of us left at the agency. There had once been more than fifty. Like everything else that stopped that day, it seemed like the revolution no longer mattered.

Slow and Steady Wins the Race
Yesterday, after more than a decade of working in the internet industry, I thought I would take a look at the Cluetrain Manifesto again, for old time's sake, and to have a good laugh. I'm not 20 and naïve anymore, after all.

As I read through the Manifesto, there were certainly things that gave me a chuckle. But, I also realized that a lot of the "95 Theses" are starting to happen. The internet has changed big business (airline or newspaper execs can attest). Internet conversations are affecting how consumers spend their money (Angie's List, Amazon recommendations, etc.). People around the world are linking to each other and communicating faster (Facebook, Linked In, Twitter). Even the Obama campaign is a proof of how the internet can mobilize the people. (Not to mention that our new President is taking a stand to keep his Blackberry.)

As Barack Obama took the oath of office, the typing in the Brain Traffic conference room paused. I looked around the room, and realized the same thing that drew me to Obama, drew me to Brain Traffic. Smart people, working toward a change for the better. So, maybe there's a little revolutionary in me yet. (Luckily, this time around, I work in a far less dodgy warehouse.)  

1. IAs need to speak English, not weblish.

The web industry, like any other, has its own language. The difference between a good information architect and a great one is often the ability to communicate with clients.  

We can start by keeping the jargon to a minimum and taking the time to define any necessary "weblish" vocab at the beginning of each meeting. Even when working with web-savvy clients, defining terms can eliminate misunderstandings.

More importantly, information architects need to remember that clients pay us to help solve business and user problems. When we structure conversations around client/user benefits—instead of IA theory—everybody wins.

2.  You don’t have to be a web genius to understand information architecture.

Richard Saul Wurman was talking about information architecture in 1975, years before the web was even a glint in Al Gore’s eye. The concept of organizing information effectively is a pretty easy one to grasp—and is in no way limited to the interactive world.

Still, if I had a dime for every time a client representative said, "We can’t show [insert executive name here] information architecture, because [he/she] doesn’t understand the web", I’d be rich. Well, I’d have about $24, but you get the point.

The truth is, when critical members of the project team do not review the architecture, the project often gets derailed at a later stage. An executive or critical stakeholder may not want to review a deck of wireframes, but they are certainly able (and usually willing) to review a summary of the important points and concepts. It saves time, money, and sanity. And the web site turns out better, too.

3. Picking on Iowa is fun.

As a Wisconsin Badger fan and Minnesota resident, I am obligated to dis Iowa. But, because I feel charitable around the holidays (and I sit dangerously close to Beth, Brain Traffic’s resident Iowa native), I’ll go easy.

Just to be neighborly, I'll point out that someone forgot to include the exciting parts of Iowa history on the web sites I visited. They make it sound like nothing interesting has happened in Iowa since Herky the Hawkeye was a chick. You Iowegians might want to head out to Wikipedia and set the record straight. (*Snicker.*)