• Try and run one positive headline and no one buys your magazine.
• They want to hear about the bad stuff. The stuff that frustrates them or makes them angry.
Image: FILE
“Samantha,” my boss exclaims when he sees me. “Mother has the most brilliant idea!”
That usually means it’s something totally unworkable and that it will never wash, but he won’t turn her down and I need to be the bad guy. I walk to his table and take a seat across from her.
“What idea is that, ma’am?” I ask her, feigning excitement.
“Why don’t you do a series about the work my women’s group has been doing?” she asks. “Everyone loves positive stories.”
No, they don’t. They say they do but try and run one positive headline and no one buys your magazine. They want to hear about the bad stuff. The stuff that frustrates them or makes them angry. Or the stuff that makes them pity others. But the good stuff? That never sells. The best we can hope for is how we overcame some obstacle or adversity. And that needs to be gritty as hell because the dirt is what they are really looking for. Not your salvation.
The only time positive stories sell is on the big or small screen. That’s when no one is interested in your corruption stories, gruesome murders and the men that get away with them.
That’s when bad governance will see you hanged — on the small screen. It’s our means to escape. It lets us know that if we are deserving, we shall get our due rewards.
It lets us know that good overcomes evil and that the universe is unfolding as it should. That’s why the world lost its collective mind when Game of Thrones ended the way it did. To avoid spoilers for those who haven’t seen it, you can stop reading at this point.
Gone? Ok, let’s continue. The guy who won the Game of Thrones did nothing to get it. We are not even sure he was playing. Yet so many fell on the wayward to get to where he sits. Stannis Baratheon, Eddard and Robb Stark, Lyanna Mormont, hell, all of the Mormonts. The entire Tyrell clan, Tywin Lannister, hell, all the Lannisters, the Night King, the Tarlys, Little finger... The list goes on and on. Great men, evil men, smart men, ambitious men, brave ones, men with honour, sneaky men, so many that were more worthy died so that a boy that no one cares about may sit on the throne. Fans don’t like that.
When it comes to the screen, we want the happy ending. Always. But when we are walking past our newsstands, that’s not what we want. We want to hear how some celebrity overdosed and drowned in the bathtub. So we can shake our heads and know that we were better than them, even though they had everything.
So if I put my boss’s mother on the cover with her women’s group and all their great acts, I’ll sell zero copies. That would only work if they were 50 years younger and gorgeous as hell. But I can’t tell her that.
“That’s a brilliant idea!” I say, turning to my boss. “This magazine business clearly runs in the veins.”
He shrugs and looks back at me with a smile. A casual observer would not read into it but I notice the slight eyebrow arch, which indicates what I must do.
“Unfortunately we prepare months in advance and this year is already locked in in terms of content. Perhaps we can revisit this next year, when we are outlining the content for 2020?” I say smoothly.
His mum looks disappointed.
“Next year?” she asks. “Yes, I suppose we can do that…” she says, her voice trailing off.
By next year, he’ll be sure enough to never bring her round again, and she’ll forget about it in time.