This reboot of last year’s Franksplaining newsletter actually began in January, over what I recall was a fine Old Fashioned at the Admiralty Lounge in Bellingham, Washington. Cascadia Daily News Executive Editor Ron Judd and I were chatting, as we occasionally had done since I retired from writing my freelance business column for CDN at the end of September 2025.

Though I had successfully gotten away from ongoing deadlines, over that cocktail I privately bemoaned to Ron that I was still coming across business stories that needed telling and no one was doing so.

He mentioned that CDN was about to launch a handful of subscriber-only newsletters. Maybe I’d like to write the business one.

I immediately said maybe. Paused. Then yes. And I did write it for four months, exploring business developments in the region around my home in Bellingham (within Whatcom, Skagit and other nearby counties in Washington state by its border with Canada).

A turning point

Just as I was turning in my June newsletter, Ron was fired. Since he was my direct editor for “Business Matters with Frank Catalano,” I decided to leave CDN too. I even explained why in a public LinkedIn post.

But those Northwest Washington business stories? I think they still need telling.

Stories like how small airport and airline contractions affect business travelers. Why the fusion energy startup boom has put down roots in an area known for agriculture. And what local farms are doing to work with each other in a time of financial stress.

So I’m back on Substack, turning the experiment of Franksplaining from last year into Franksplaining Business this year. Perhaps consider it the natural offspring of that earlier, wide-ranging newsletter experiment (with some fun, useful stuff — read my essay of advice to my mid-career self) and my now-defunct, hyperlocal CDN business newsletter.

Franksplaining Business will have elements of both. My objective is to tell stories about business and technology news through a Northwest Washington lens. Sometimes, what’s local will be at the forefront. Other times, local examples will pepper a piece about a larger trend.

Expect (I hope) “aha” moments, analysis and some commentary. All fact based.

The initial plan

In addition to original, longer items, Franksplaining Business will also summarize key economic and business developments affecting Northwest Washington and the larger region. I’ll highlight interesting individual changes in businesses as I come across them.

This won’t be a rehash of every retail and restaurant opening or closing. Not only will my former colleagues at CDN continue to do a better job of that (I will point to their, and others’, business coverage from time to time) but I need to stay focused to keep this newsletter unique.

The occasional oddball item? Guaranteed.

How you can help

This newsletter is a solo operation. It will be a labor of love, too. I’m not offering any paid level of subscription while I determine if this is something I can maintain. But you can be a part of this effort in three ways.

First: Share the newsletter. If you like what you read, let others know. I’ll gauge interest based on readership.

Second: Pledge, if you’re able and willing. While Franksplaining Business is free, I am gratefully accepting pledges for future subscriptions if I should add a paid level (some level of reading will always be free). You’ll get a heads up when I start charging. Pledges help me understand the worth of this effort.

Third: Give me feedback. What do you think merits a larger story? What individual development is worth noting? Write to me at franksplaining@substack.com. Plus, I’ll tuck in polls where you can weigh in. Like this one, about the option for longer, monthly newsletters or shorter, twice-monthly issues.

Fourth and finally, I’ll make this pledge to you: Not a word here is, or will be, written by AI. Franksplaining is proudly all human. As am I.

Who’s writing this? Frank Catalano is an award-winning writer and broadcaster. Most recently, he was the regular business contributor and columnist for Cascadia Daily News in Northwest Washington from June 2022 to June 2026.

Earlier, Frank had side gigs as a columnist for, or ongoing contributor to, GeekWire, EdSurge, Seattle Weekly, Puget Sound Business Journal and KCPQ-TV Seattle. He started in radio news, spent decades as a senior executive and consultant in the tech and edtech industries, then returned to journalism. Send feedback or ideas to Frank at franksplaining@substack.com.

Earlier this year, I was given a rare opportunity to revisit several significant stretches of my career: first education technology, then science-fiction writing and finally daily journalism. I was able to freshly consider my relationship to each. Had the professions changed, or had I?

As it turned out, the answer was yes. To both questions. Fair warning: Many personal disclosures are ahead. Plus three lessons that could apply to any profession.

An education in technology

At the end of March, I briefly returned to edtech for several days. I noticed the annual national conference of the Consortium for School Networking (CoSN), a nonprofit group of school district tech leaders, was being held in Seattle.

I’d attended this a number of times when I was an executive for, or advisor to, education technology companies. When I asked if I could attend again for old times’ sake, I was asked in return if I would emcee CoSN’s advocacy auction as I once had done. Definitely, I said.

I spent a couple of days as I’d hoped: catching up with old friends I hadn’t seen in person since before the pandemic.

I also heard about the continuing encroachment of private equity into industry companies and how PE’s profits-above-all-else perspective had hampered industry execs. It had caused some to give up “educating” the PE suits and switch jobs, frustrated that private equity often lumped edtech with healthtech and fintech in its approach (all government-regulated sectors) with no interest in the differences. Or in the underlying mission of education.

I heard about the rush to have an AI story for every product and service, even if the technology wasn’t capable or applicable yet. I was reminded of similar previous hype bubbles around “personalized learning” and “data-driven decision making” in my three decades in edtech, and how many products never lived up to the promises, cycle to cycle.

I recalled my nostalgia for the days when edtech was considered a “get rich slow” industry, one in which there was a years-long lag time for new business and consumer tech to reach schools while companies and educators figured out what would work in classrooms and administrative offices before committing. FOMO and speed were now touted more than effectiveness.

I enjoyed emceeing the auction and seeing my friends and once-colleagues.

But edtech, as a business, had changed even more than when I had left my final industry CMO role in June 2022. I’d been right to leave.

Speculation about a future in fiction

In the middle of August, I was happily placed on three panels when the World Science Fiction Convention was held in Seattle for the first time since 1961.

Worldcon is a big deal for written science fiction. It’s where the Hugo Awards are announced and draws at least 5,000 fans, plus hundreds of professional authors and artists.

I’d spoken at Worldcons and other conventions before as an active science-fiction and fantasy writer, primarily in the 1980s and 1990s, and when I was an officer of what is now called the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Association. I hadn’t attended a Worldcon since 2015 (or been an active fiction writer for many years before that) so having Seattle Worldcon nearby was welcome.

I spent another couple of days as I’d hoped. I attended panels about the state of the industry, walked through the art show and checked out booksellers in the dealer’s room. I reconnected with several accomplished writers who once had motivated and encouraged me: 90-year-old Robert Silverberg, when I re-introduced myself after several decades, looked at me and exclaimed, “Santa Barbara!” (where I had lived when he and I first met).

But many of the writers who had been friends and whom I might have one day counted as peers, had I kept writing and pushing, were now gone (that is, dead). I was dismayed to be reminded of the previous steep decline in circulation of magazines which I had once been honored to appear in — Analog Science Fiction and Fact and The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction — and how AI-generated slop in recent years clogged submissions to Clarkesworld and other paying markets.

It was confusing, also, that the standards for being considered a “pro” writer were no longer as clear (yet perhaps not as inflexible or daunting) as when I was active, now that self-publishing with self-promotion was much easier. To its credit, self-publishing’s rise also raised many new voices and made it easier for talented writers to keep more of the publishing revenue. But independent publishing has added murkiness to the concept of “professional.”

At Worldcon, like CoSN, I enjoyed speaking and seeing my friends and once-colleagues.

But I had done a poor job keeping up with the field since I stopped publishing short fiction. I didn’t recognize most of the good, newer writers who were up for Hugo Awards. Stepping away mentally was a huge mistake: the field kept morphing and I had subconsciously assumed it would stay like it was when I left it, so I could slip back in when I was ready.

The business of professional science fiction writing had changed since I stopped. Too much. I’d have to start from scratch, again, if I wanted back in. I had left it, and it had moved on.

Reaching a firm journalistic deadline

At the end of September, I filed my last column for Cascadia Daily News. When I had the chance to return to daily journalism as a regular freelancer for this online news site and print newspaper startup in 2022, just a few months after moving to Bellingham, I jumped at it.

I had pestered its executive editor to let me contribute. CDN was doing exciting things to revitalize hyper-local news coverage in northwest Washington state, home to nearly 370,000 people in its two primary counties of coverage, Whatcom and Skagit. I hadn’t been a part of a newsroom since my last stint filling in as a deputy editor at the tech news site GeekWire in 2018 or my early career as a full-time broadcast journalist in the 1970s and 1980s.

I played a variety of roles as CDN Business Contributor: columnist, newsletter writer, company profile and industry trend piece author and business-related news story scribe. It was intense, it was heady and, though it was technically part-time, I “donated” a lot of hours sharing news tips, sources and research with the mostly young, professional staff.

I loved being able to indulge my curiosity, use my skill of clearly explaining a complicated topic and exercise the craft of writing well in the service of reporting.

But as CDN’s editorial staff grew, what I was able to pursue as a “business” story narrowed as more subjects naturally shifted to staffer beats. I, an outside freelancer, couldn’t easily take part in routine newsroom conversations where coverage decisions were made. After nearly three-and-a-half years, I also found myself not wanting to be tied to ongoing column deadlines.

It reached a head when my wife and I were celebrating our anniversary on a quick trip to Vancouver, B.C. at the end of July. We were having a great time. Yet my mood noticeably dampened when I realized I’d have to jump right back in to chase down details for a new column as soon as we arrived home.

I forced a column break during my Worldcon travel so I could think. But what Dee Dee observed after we returned to Bellingham and my regular deadlines cinched it.

“You haven’t been happy for a long time,” she said.

She was, of course, right. What had started as enthusiasm had turned into obligation, and not because of anything CDN had unnaturally altered. I liked the smart, dedicated people. Constant deadlines were just part of the bargain. But not anymore for me. I gave several weeks’ notice, penned a farewell essay, shut off my Slack and offered to be a resource when needed.

Cascadia Daily News had only improved over time. I did, and still do, support it. But I had changed.

A mixed professional scorecard

It’s been a gift to dive back into previous professional lives and take stock. Revisiting three over a span of a few months allows comparative long-term perspective from a near-single point in time.

Education technology had been a satisfying, full-on industry career. Too much of it got too caught up in the money for my money. It changed.

Science-fiction writing was paid, promising and ultimately aspirational as a livelihood. I waited too long. It changed.

News-driven journalism was a great skills and stimulation match, early and late in my working life. Continuing deadlines lost their appeal. I changed.

Others pondering professional purpose might take away three lessons:

• First, if money overshadows the mission you originally signed up for, reconsider your commitment.

• Second, if you want to pursue a path, act. It won’t wait for you forever.

• Third, if you’re not happy, force a break to rethink. Your personal priorities may have changed.

Would I ever dip back into these professions? Industries continue to change. So do I. Points of interest remain or I wouldn’t have entered them in the first place. I’ll stay in touch, as I always have.

I’ll also keep finding ways to leverage all of these varied, wonderful experiences in other parts of my life.

What results will not be a rerun.

Mostly, it was a way to play with the Substack platform as someone who published email newsletters and blogs very early (yes, I did both before the turn of the century). And partly, it was to create an outlet for writing of mine that didn’t currently have one: practical observations about business, technology and related topics.

It’s been a good experiment. I’ve written about the psychology of charity auctions, why companies should talk with business journalists, how to moderate a lively panel, advice for my younger 40-year-old self and how anyone can think like a marketer.

All of these essays have been from the perspective of someone who has done it. “Explaining through experience” has been this publication’s unofficial tag line.

A little too familiar

I’ve gathered a few dozen subscribers to the free Substack newsletter version of Franksplaining, and a few hundred readers. For a twice-a-month essay cadence with no promotion and no focused topic — basically, it’s if-I-lived-it, maybe-I-can-share-insight-into-it — that’s not bad.

Yet without a focus, I can’t get over the feeling that all I’m doing is mining ideas I’ve written about earlier, in other venues, even if it was in those cases more briefly.

Or perhaps I’m just refining and updating the observations. For example, I found after publishing an expanded Franksplaining piece on marketing that bits of the thinking about the importance of “unique, believable and true” appeared in my LinkedIn essay of five years ago.

That unconscious repetition takes a little bit of the joy out of my work on the keyboard side of this relationship. Not only do I risk retreading old ground and repeating myself, but also — as one science-fiction writer once described rewriting — I get the flavorless task of rechewing old bubble gum.

The pause that refreshes

So I’m calling this experiment a success. And taking a pause.

I won’t be taking down any of the Franksplaining essays or deleting the subscriber list. But I’ll next want to think through if I can tighten the focus of what I’m “explaining through experience” to stimulate new ideas and topics. And perhaps appeal to more readers.

Meantime, you can keep up on all of my writing on my Authory page.

Thank you for reading. I’m truly not done Franksplaining yet.

Good marketing doesn’t start with a search keyword buy, advertising creative or pretty logo design. I’ve found that good marketing has to start with thinking. With strategy.

Because marketing, at its core, is applied psychology: convincing someone to take an action that you’d like them to take.

That can be buying a product or service, for a company. Making a donation or otherwise supporting a cause, for a nonprofit. Hiring or engaging services, for an individual.

All of these require “marketing” that business, cause or person. No matter what word or polite euphemism (I’m looking at you, “advancement”) a particular organization or individual may use to describe the effort.

Marketing strategy is not separate from an organization’s or business’ overall strategy; it’s central to it.

Developing a good marketing strategy on which to hang specific marketing activities later is not something that requires a buzzword-laden system or expensive outside consulting firm. All good strategies have commonalities that I’ve summed up— across the decades I spent as an independent marketing consultant and tech company marketing VP/CMO — as the “four Cs.”

Internalize this framework, and you’ll be solidly on your way to figuring out which marketing tactics fit your situation, and which could be an off-target waste of effort and money.

Seize the Cs

No matter what a particular program may label them, the critical elements of a marketing strategy have to do with customers, competitors, core competency and course. (Math majors, as I once was, will note that is actually five Cs. But I’m counting only the four discrete C-led steps.)

Developing the information you need within each element starts with asking yourself questions. The wording of these questions is adaptable. Even if you think of your audience as something other than “customers” or “donors,” the answers can still be revealing and useful.

Customers. How do you describe the customers you’d like to attract? For a business, this goes beyond industry, title or role — what motivates the prospect, both practically (what they’d like to accomplish) and emotionally (how they’d like to feel about it)?

Defining age, geography … all of that is important. But the emotional and practical fit can go beyond demographics in helping refine your efforts.

Competitors. Who are your direct competitors for a product or service, or supporting a cause through your organization? Equally important, who are your invisible competitors — how do people accomplish their objective without you or your direct competitors?

In the early 1990s, I wrote the chapter on competitive analysis for Addison-Wesley’s The High-Tech Marketing Companion. Customers, I said, often don’t use a rigid, category-based approach to solving a problem. They tend to look at a continuum of possible solutions. A rip in chair upholstery? From the chair owner’s perspective, solutions range from duct tape or sewing needle to a professional upholstery repair service. But few duct tape or sewing needle makers likely consider the other a competitor.

Consider your competitors from the prospect’s perspective. That is a solution-oriented viewpoint, not an industry category viewpoint. In fact, I wrote back then, what might appear to a vendor to be a strange fix for a problem may be entirely feasible in the customers’ minds. Keep their solution orientation on your radar.

Core competence. What are you and your organization really good at? Not just what business or industry are you in, but what do you do uniquely well?

Odds are your organization wasn’t founded to be a me-too player. Somehow, you began with, or later developed, specialized expertise or a niche in your area. It can reflect distribution reach, technical excellence, low cost, high service, rapid response or something else — whatever it is, recognize it and determine how strongly your ideal audience cares about it.

Course. Now, triangulate. As a result of all of the above, what direction should your marketing take to reach your preferred customer set, bypass the competitors and leverage your core competence?

Finally, this is the time to consider marketing tactics. Everything from events and advertising to collateral materials and social media (plus more — this is hardly an exhaustive list) must be thrown up against the course you’ve determined to see if they move you forward along it or are simply just a time-wasting or, in some cases, ego-driven distraction.

Unique, believable and true

At this point, I’d be remiss in not sharing what I’ve found also makes up a good messaging approach as part of marketing strategy.

You’ve done the hard upfront structural work on the strategic framework’s elements. So as you spread the word about yourself, cut through the clutter by keeping three additional touchstones in mind for your message: unique, believable and true.

Unique, in that you’re positioned in a meaningful, no-one-else-could-claim-this way to your audience and against your primary competitors.

Believable, in that what you claim is, or easily and clearly can be, backed up by convincing proof.

True, in that what you say about yourself and others is factually accurate.

The last is more than an ethical consideration. If you want repeat business, you can’t mislead customers.

You also don’t get to choose just two out of three touchstones. Unique and true don’t work well if what you claim as unique can’t be believed. Believable and true in combination can be replicated by competitors. Unique and believable alone … well, that underlies many scams.

Humans first

Remember, responding to marketing is a human activity, a reality that often gets overlooked by quants fixated on manipulating data. Marketing can’t just herd. It must persuade.

That’s where psychology comes in. I never did graduate with that psychology minor attached to a math major. But I didn’t forget that the basics of dealing with thinking human beings are basic for good reason.

Understand what you offer in the context of the needs of the individual making the decision.

Refine that fit based on how you stand out.

Depending on your situation, this four-Cs framework process provides a starting point — or everything required.

It reminded me, though, that the unofficial tag line of Franksplaining is “explaining through experience.” 800 months? That seemed to be enough experience to share a few practical work and life tips I’ve gathered along the way.

In the spirit of providing useful context, let me offer this as advice I wish I’d given my 40-year-old self. Lots of people talk about what they’d tell themselves as teenagers. More interesting, to me, is what to tell someone who may think they already have it all figured out.

At 40, you’re mid-career, even if you don’t think of your work as a “career” in the traditional sense. If you’re going to develop specialized expertise, achieve peak productivity and pursue the potential for your highest-earning years, odds are at 40 you’ve got the skills and stamina to pull it off. You’ve made those early-career mistakes, grown a professional network and figured out what, to you, “work-life balance” might mean.

For example, when I was 40, I had put one brief career behind me (broadcasting) and was established in my second (technology marketing) with several executive-level staff and consulting roles under my belt, enough to give me the insight to also co-author two Dummies books on online marketing and be a busy public speaker.

What notes could prepare a 40-year-old for the next quarter century?

Time is not on your side

Tick tick tick. You are aging. While you were once part of an upstart generation thinking it could reinvent, or even newly invent, an industry, you have now just crossed the generational line into being part of the “old guard” — the generation you’d hoped to replace.

Don’t think those behind you on the career path don’t know it.

In a few years, you’ll start to be discriminated against as you visibly age. It probably won’t be overt. It’ll be couched as concern: a prospective employer wondering if you can “handle a startup pace,” a current company claiming it “needs the freshest ideas” to qualify for a promotion. Understand that ageism is real.

The first real shock will be when you find out a new boss is younger than you are. Significantly younger. Holy-crap-are-they-even-out-of-high-school younger.

At this point, your lofty title, your years of experience and your resume — by themselves — mean less than they did. What will make you valuable is what you can do directly, or make happen indirectly, by leveraging your extensive contacts and skillset (ideally, it also makes your boss and younger co-workers look good). In addition to meeting the goals the company has set.

Part of this, too, is adjusting your mindset. I learned to view every job through the lens of an outside consultant. What critically needs to get done, damn the internal politics? What approaches haven’t been considered?

Then pick the projects to pursue in spaces where no one cares, or in moments when no one is looking, and run fast to the finish line. Once it’s clear what’s been accomplished, give plenty of credit to others.

As you age, focus on your contribution, not status. The former will help you maintain the latter far more than simply demanding that you’ve earned it because of how long you’ve lived.

Experiences aren’t always repeatable

When young, it’s easy to defer personal experiences to another, maybe more-convenient or less-pressured time. Work takes priority when you want to get ahead.

But a dirty little secret of post-40 life is needing to realize you could die at any time.

A batch of studies I once collected as research for an unfinished novel found that men in their 40s were more likely to die as pedestrians or by lightning strikes than any other age group, and equally likely to die a violent death as those in their 20s. That doesn’t include medical-related deaths, such as cancer, or those taken by suicide, which sadly has claimed more than one of my close professional friends.

So treasure the few hours in an unfamiliar city on a business trip. See a museum. Visit a public market. Build in a couple of hours at the beginning, the end or between meetings. You may not be back. And you will remember it far more than a featureless hotel conference room, office or airport gate.

In the same vein, take walks. While I also advocate more intense work outs and practicing light yoga (for preventing or relieving the aches instilled by airplane seats), walking is something you can do anywhere. Do it while your smartphone is not in use to give your brain a rest and reset. A half-hour daily will actually increase your productivity, not limit it.

Both activities will freshen your perspective on work tasks and may spur a new idea or two. These brief breaks can keep you energized, productive and more resilient when facing burn out.

Be fully aware of how you treat others

One of my worst experiences as a tech company vice president was being told, by an incoming “turnaround specialist” CEO, that stiffing contractors on payments for work already completed and laying off staff without notice or severance wasn’t personal, it was “just business.”

One of my best experiences was unexpectedly being thanked by a former co-worker I ran into at a conference. She was now a C-level executive. She explained that, years earlier in a large management meeting when I had been an exec and she had a less senior title, I had asked for her thoughts after I noticed she hadn’t had an opportunity to provide strategy input because others were dominating the discussion. For me, it just made sense to get feedback from everyone who was at the table. Yet she hadn’t forgotten that request.

It’s always personal when you’re dealing with people. People want to be heard. People want to be valued. But it can be hard to practice when those around you don’t model that behavior. So model for others how you want team members to be treated. It can have positive reverberations, years later.

If, inevitably, something does go wrong and you start to lose it, don’t get angry — be disappointed. Not only is there less heat that gets in the way of light needed to resolve an issue, but you won’t waste precious energy. (Remember, you’re older.)

Finally, value your true professional friends. You will find that of all the people you work with, those who will voluntarily keep up with you across jobs and over years — when you can do nothing for them — are rare. Visit. Have dinner. Don’t fall out of touch. Even if you don’t think you have anything to talk about. You’ll find something.

Oh. And about reaching that 800-month milestone? Well, I’m not fully retiring yet. I still need more time to refine, and discover, additional work-life lessons.

I've moderated, conservatively, more than two hundred panels (I started as a teen at science-fiction conventions). Since those early nerdy gatherings, I’ve hosted professional panel discussions at events ranging from technology trade shows and summits to book and education industry conferences over several decades.

But being a good moderator requires a different skill set than being a good public speaker. Overlap? Yes. With a major difference: the audience’s attention should be focused on the entirety of the panel, not only the moderator.

I’ve seen panels go spectacularly sideways due to lack of speaker preparation, coordination or even acknowledgment of the topic about which the audience thought they were going to hear.

Ten tips

So, for the sake of a perky panel and a rapt audience, here are 10 things I’ve learned about being a good moderator (if you’re ever called to serve, for reasons personal or professional):

1) You're the glue. Your mission as moderator is to create a coherent whole out of disparate, and sometimes feuding, parts. As a result, you should be the panel's audience surrogate — even asking for definitions of terms and clarification of statements which a panelist may state as though everyone already knows. Many times, people attend panels to learn, so they may not.

2) You're the metronome. You're the panel's psychological timekeeper — you need to make sure the pace feels right to someone just sitting and listening and adjust that pace on the fly. Keep things moving.

3) You're not the star. While a well-known moderator can be a draw, that's before the event. The audience is there to learn from the panelists as a whole. That doesn't mean moderators should be passive and in the background (for your primary task, see 1). But there's a difference between creating a center of discussion and being the center of attention. Whatever attention you draw needs to be with the intent of making sure the audience gets what they came for.

4) Demand a PowerPoint-free zone. Nothing squeezes the life out of a panel more than PowerPoint (or Google Slides, or any text projected on a screen). Inevitably, panelists who don't have time to prepare rely on making minor tweaks to a canned presentation, regardless of the new audience's needs or interests. I hesitate to moderate panels if I can't ban PowerPoint and, if I'm unsuccessful, I push for no more than three textless slides (a single graphic is worth a thousand bullet points).

5) Stoke the fire. Don't expect to wing it. Prepare a thought-provoking first question and circulate it among the panelists in advance, telling them they'll have no more than two minutes to address it in their own words, sans slides.

6) Don't preview all your questions. Share areas you might like to discuss, but don't share any specific questions in advance (aside from the one in 5), no matter how hard your panelists or their handlers press. I've discovered just about every person I've ever worked with is satisfied knowing the areas likely to be covered in general terms. If you share your specific questions, you'll get boring, often-scripted specific answers — the perfect soporific for any audience.

7) Introduce them yourself. Don’t fall into the trap of asking panelists to state their background. That can be a vehicle for endless self promotion or lengthy digression. Find a copy of their bio beforehand and write up two-to-three sentences germane to the topic being discussed. You can always suggest more detail is available online.

8) Interrupt. Being overly polite and letting panelists drone on or make unchallenged assertions is surrender, not moderation. The panel is not your audience. Nicely and conversationally break in to redirect whenever necessary.

9) Touch base early. Send your panelists an introductory email outlining any ground rules, the opening question, areas of discussion, and the banning of PowerPoint-ish crutches (if you concur). Don't forget the basics like time, date and venue. Then, arrange to meet 15 minutes early so the panelists show up on time, as long as you’re not at an event when they’re scheduled back to back.

10) Say thank you. Send your panelists personal emails or paper notes thanking them for participating afterwards. Even if it's not your event or your organization, you were their ringmaster for 45, 60 or 90 minutes. No one gets upset for being appreciated.

Yes, Zoom too

And if you’re moderating virtually and not in person? This guidance still applies. People remain people, even if the discussion is mediated through technology. Considering the added number of distractions a remote audience has at its fingertips, effective moderation may be even more important to keeping their attention.

So when I say moderating is an easy job, think “easy” as in a magic trick well performed. Your goal is to make the discussion appear effortless — so the audience itself doesn't have to struggle.

I understand the business journalist’s role for the reader since I began writing columns and stories for Cascadia Daily News three years ago: to let readers know what a particular company is doing and how they might find it interesting, useful, or both.

Stuff like openings and closings. An in-depth profile with an I-didn’t-know-that “aha” moment. An explanation of a complicated economic topic, such as tariffs, commercial real estate vacancies or median home price changes, putting the latest developments in a larger context.

But why should a business that’s approached for a story agree to talk with me?

A need to educate

It’s a good question, and one I proposed to address in a discussion this year hosted by the Bellingham Regional Chamber of Commerce in Northwest Washington state.

As recently as two decades ago, just before modern social media and smartphones saturated our daily lives (Facebook became available to the public in late 2006, and the first iPhone launched a year later), the answer was easier. Advertising cost money. Press coverage was free. Might as well reach an audience through the news media, if a business could get their attention.

Now, though, the outreach options are less binary and more of a continuum.

Thanks largely to the internet and the prevalence of social media, businesses don’t need to pay for an ad or direct marketing piece to increase their visibility and maintain control over their message. If they do want to spend cash beyond staff or PR/marketing agency services, a broader, squishier range of options exist — from pay-for-placement publications to friendly, sponsored online “influencers” — that can help get the word out. These outlets may also look a lot like journalism to the audience, even if that’s frequently a facade.

Getting a business to talk with a journalist these days might not only take convincing, it could take educating.

What a business journalist is

It helps to start with a definition. A journalist is someone who reports news of interest to their audience. Whom the business doesn’t pay. And who incorporates what the business does or says into their own story, one the journalist researches and develops.

Flags that a business isn’t dealing with a journalist?

The outlet offers to let the business review or edit the story before it appears (a good journalist pays attention, takes detailed notes and follows up to verify fuzzy facts but never turns the business into the story’s author). They ask the business to pay a fee (this can be for “expenses,” in the case of purely promotional outlets that might otherwise look like journalism). They won’t tell the business what the story they’re working on is (stories can change as facts roll in, but all stories start with the reporter having some idea of what angle is worth pursuing).

Put another way: follow the money. If the business is paying anything for the story, it’s not journalism.

Now, does that mean it’s a mistake for a business to talk with a promotional influencer, a pay-for-play outlet, or a non-journalist who agrees to share the news for free?

No. It’s not a mistake if the outlet is being upfront about what they’re offering (and don’t misleadingly claim to be a journalist). If the outlet reaches a business’ desired audience and it’s a fit, it may be worth doing a deal.

In a previous life, I was a tech industry company chief marketing officer — we evaluated every option and worked with both reporters and promoters. But I quickly shut down anyone who misrepresented what they were doing. Other businesses should do the same.

Benefits of engaging journalists

So why talk with a business journalist, if alternatives that are more under the control of the company have grown?

Simply, to reach audiences that a business can’t already reach directly: people who aren’t aware of a business, or who don’t follow it closely. Engaging can give a business a chance to be part of a bigger story, from trend pieces about industry developments to roundups of what similar companies may be doing. And, perhaps, provide the opportunity to create or solidify a company’s reputation as an expert in their field.

Journalists are not there to promote a business, but that can be a secondary halo effect depending on the news.

Good reasons exist to not engage with a journalist, too.

Most basically — and it pains me to say this — if a business doesn’t trust or respect that individual journalist’s reporting because, for example, facts were routinely wrong in earlier stories, or quotes were taken out of context, and nothing was corrected. (We journalists are human. We make mistakes. But we also have a responsibility to correct errors to maintain credibility with our audience.)

A second good reason is that a business isn’t ready to talk about a subject when a journalist calls.

The other speaker at the event, Patti Goethals Rowlson of Bellingham PR & Communications, emphasized the importance of businesses learning how to craft a message and understand its news value, especially when they are the ones doing the outreach to journalists and not only responding to reporters’ inquiries. And then decide whether they want to pitch news outlets, pay for distribution or somehow self-publish the news, such as on websites, blogs or email newsletters.

Not a one-off

Yet I’d like to believe that the relationship isn’t always a single instance of the business talking to me or me to the business about a discrete development. It’s an ongoing conversation.

The benefit to the reader of this exchange is clear. I’m not paid by the business so I don’t represent the business. I work to verify claims a business might make. I tamp down hype and puffery. I endeavor to provide context.

Readers ideally wind up (again) with new information that’s either useful, interesting or both.

Businesses benefit as well. They reach a larger, or newer, audience than they can on their own. One they didn’t pay to reach. But they have to give up control to get that reach.

Even though the continuum between traditional journalism at one end and straight advertising on the other is more crowded and confusing than it was in the pre-social media, pre-smartphone era two decades ago, no one benefits if the distinctions aren’t upfront and clear. None of the more recent or hybrid options are inherently bad. They are just different.

But every company, and every reader, should understand the role of the business journalist in the current media environment. That’s why I was pleased to take part in the Bellingham Chamber’s educational program. And it’s also why, of course, businesses should talk to me.

(A slightly different version of this essay first appeared on the Cascadia Daily News website.)

Because odds are it wouldn’t work nearly as well or raise as much money for the cause. It’s a matter of individual and group psychology.

As a favor for an organization I admire, I volunteered to emcee the Consortium for School Networking Advocacy Auction at the Museum of Popular Culture in Seattle on the last day of March. I used to attend CoSN annually to speak or to represent education technology companies for which I ran marketing at the time.

But not as well known is that, for several years starting in 2003, I regularly emceed charity auctions as a feel-good sideline through Stokes Auction Group, a Seattle-area company that provides auctioneers and auction services exclusively for charities. This gave me insight into auctions for organizations including the American Heart Association, Boys and Girls Clubs and the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation (with its delightfully named “Tennis Ball”).

A lot of planning and psychology goes into a charity auction, from those for the smallest private school to the largest non-profit. And never underestimate the school auction: I’ve worked some that have dramatically outdrawn, in people and dollars, the most heart-rending charity. (Corollary: Never underestimate the giving, or guilting, power of a dedicated parent or alumnus.)

Seven success factors

What’s worth understanding about what happens behind the scenes? Seven items from my experience-based catalog:

Tickets aren’t donations. If you think you’re giving the charity a donation by buying a ticket, you’re not. Tickets are designed to cover the cost of food and the venue. Sometimes, charities don’t charge enough to do even that. But a ticket purchase serves a purpose: It gets you financially and psychologically invested in the event.

Minimum bids help cover costs. A few big-ticket items (from vacation trips to motorized scooters) may have been purchased by the charity with the hope that, in the frenzy of live bidding, they’ll go for much more than the discounted purchase price. That’s why an item may be withdrawn if it can’t get the minimum bid. But promoting a few good big-ticket items in advance can help raise the entire image of an auction to spur attendance and overall giving.

More isn’t always better. More items don’t necessarily make a better live auction. Some of the most successful events use a “gala” format with a few as three to no more than a dozen items. The brevity and perceived scarcity makes the items all the more desirable; you can’t hold your bidding dollars for later. Conversely, auctions with more than, say, 40 items can drag on to a point where there’s bidder fatigue and returns drop. (We had an informal rule at Stokes that auction staff couldn’t drink while working, unless the auction went into its second day.)

Seeding the live auction helps. Most auctions have a portion called “raise the paddle,” “fund a need,” or “fund an item,” during which bidders help pay for a specific charity cause (at schools, for example, it might be arts programs or scholarships). Bidding starts at the highest dollar level and works down in increments, sometimes starting with a $5,000 ask, then $2,500, then $1,000, eventually down to those donors willing to raise their paddle to give $50. Usually, a charity has already arranged to have a donor ready at the highest level to avoid deadly silence when the first amount is called out.

Pacing is critical. This isn’t just an auction; it’s a performance that has to entertain. The rule of thumb is two minutes per item. Testimonials from beneficiaries of the organization can help vary the pace so the whole event isn’t at a dead run, but if you have too many speakers or if they go on too long, the entire event can bog down, people have a chance to get restless — and may leave early.

Always say thank you. Bidder lists sorted by bid number are often given to the auctioneer and emcee just before the auction starts so the winning bidders can be thanked by name. Call it human nature: We like to be recognized for doing good, especially among our peers.

Pay is based on performance. Auctioneers and their firms are generally compensated based on a percentage of what they raise for the charity, with limits. If the charity doesn’t do well, they don’t. Unless, of course, they simply volunteer as I did for CoSN.

Not just for charities

Several of these practices also have applications in business and other non-auction settings. More isn’t always better, and may exhaust or defer a decision. Seeding helps others feel that they, too, should take part. Pacing is critical to maintaining attention. And always saying thank you, by name, tacitly recognizes our desire to be seen.

As the professionals I used to work with frequently stated, a charity auction is a fundraiser masquerading as a social event. Feeling good tends to want to make us do good. And that’s also a lesson that extends into other areas of life.

Beyond straight reporting

While I enjoy my local business contributions to Cascadia Daily News, I'm focused in CDN on straight reporting, and hyperlocal at that — if it doesn't directly happen in, or affect, Northwest Washington state, I don't write about it.

I missed writing analysis and commentary on larger issues. Still fact-based, but first-person pieces that were broader in scope about business, technology and life lessons.

So I'm launching this Substack. Named "Franksplaining."

What to expect — and an ask

Once I hit my stride, Franksplaining will hit inboxes about twice a month. At a digestible column length.

And it’s free. The "pledge" feature is turned on, but I'll provide plenty of heads up should I ever start charging (and you can just skip that step now when subscribing).

One ongoing question: What would you like me to address in these short essays?

Let's set aside the current political moment; I guarantee that will come up.

What else do you think I might uniquely have a fact-based perspective on, knowing my background in tech, education, business, broadcasting, science-fiction writing and public speaking?

Drop me a note anytime. It won’t keep me up.