How a name gets into my directory

There is no desk that writes to people and asks for a biography. A profile in this magazine is a row I could read: a username, a link to the person’s own page, and whatever else the card held. A name, if it was there. A subject line. A location. Followers, average views, an engagement percent. Sometimes a comparison with a median. Sometimes a split of audience by country, age, and gender. Sometimes a handful of picture addresses. If a field was empty, the page omits it. I do not fill the gap with a likely sentence. A likely sentence is how a rate card gets born, and I am not in that business.

The subject line is the messiest field. A lot of them are short, and a lot of them are the same short phrase with different capitals. Some are a personal slogan. A few are not a subject at all. They are a scrape that kept going and swallowed the rest of the page, including instructions and other people’s copy. I cut that tail off. I do not reprint it. From what remains, I build a subject only when the cleaned phrase is short and at least two people share it. Smaller phrases stay on the person. They do not become departments. One person is not a market, however much a pitch would like them to be.

Location is cleaner, and still not clean enough to explode. I read a city, sometimes a region, and a country, when the commas allow it. A country page, and a city page, open at two people. Below that, the place remains on the profile and in search. One stray string does not get a URL. I would rather you find Copenhagen, which clears the line, than a thousand pages with a single name and a broken town. A place on the card is not a promise they will answer from there. I edit in Copenhagen. That is a fact about me. Their city line is a fact about the card. Do not mix the two and call it a local buy.

Lists are the other door. Each list is a public page that named a set of people. I rewrite the label into a subject or a place and a plain description of what the page is. I do not keep a slogan from the source, and I do not publish a list whose slug is only a race or an ethnicity. There is no filter for that, and there will not be one. Gender, when I have it, is an audience chart on the person, not a way to shop the book. If a brief asked me to sort people that way, the answer is no, and the directory will not help you route around the no.

What I do not have, I do not perform. There are no prices, no packages, and no reviews in the table, so none appear on the page. There is no per-platform split of followers. There is no private inbox, and I do not sell one. There is no checkout and no escrow. Pictures are loaded from the public addresses on the row. If an address fails, you get initials, not a borrowed face. I will not rent you a face to make a thin card look ready.

Getting in is not an honour I confer, and it is not a contract. The person is not on staff, not a client, and not someone I have met. I can talk about having been on the creator side of a deal. I will not invent the campaigns, the clients, or the follower count to make that sentence heavier. The updated time on the row is when I read the card, not when they last posted. If the row was absent, the profile is absent. A form on this site cannot file a ticket, because I do not pretend to have a queue. The standard is on the page called Be listed, and it is a standard for the record, not an application. If you wanted to be pitched, you are in the wrong room. If you wanted the number, you are in the right one.

The other notes. Lorenne Calder.