The craft of writing is similar to social media management. Because everyone can do it, everyone thinks they can do it well.
Banging out 300 words of brochure copy, a letter from the president, or a 1,000 word feature story takes more than the amount of time it takes to read said copy. In fact, there is probably a figure out there that translates reading time to project time. For instance, if it takes you five minutes to read a story, it probably took five hours to complete. Especially when you factor in all the interviews, revisions, layout, and the muse. The latter is what is often left out. It has been said that one's writing is 90 percent of what they have read and 10 percent of what they are currently reading. As much as I like to think the genesis of all my ideas come from yours truly, they actually come from other ideas I've read or heard that have been filtered through my mind. Blah, blah blah, Inception reference. My point is that I need to be constantly reading good writing and learning about new ideas and new technology to have more meat for my writing.
The editing process is another brutal and thankless endeavor. No one notices when you are good at it, only when you screw up. Remember that time one of your readers called up and and said, "Excellent job on that magazine! I didn't find a single grammatical mistake." No? That's because it never happened in the history of the world.
It's perhaps because it is so easy to read through a magazine or brochure or web story that people assume it must be easy to create. "Oh, you wrote a 350 word story about some student and posted it to the website? What else did you do with the rest of your morning?" Never mind the relationships I had to build to even get that story, the time I spent tracking down the student, the lengthy interview process because the soft-spoken student did not want to talk, or the part-time photographer I transformed into to take the shot.
But it goes even deeper than that. I'm not just firing off stories for print, web, and media to fill my day. I'm building a brand. I'm telling the story of the institution. I seek student stories and ask questions that fit the mold of what I want the story of my employer to be.
Building a brand is not an overnight process. It is a quilt sewn together with strategic content. This is a fast moving digital world. The tone and delivery is changing. There is so much noise that only those in a particular key are going to be heard. Only those with their finger on the pulse of what that key is are going to know how to play.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Saturday, June 8, 2013
Why Fear Makes Beautiful Art
James Salter published a new book this year. But so what? The man is 87. His most popular novel, The Hunters, was published in 1957. Chuck Palahniuk, a comparatively young whipper-snapper at 51, is supposed to publish a book this year. But his popularity has been in decline since 1996's Fight Club. People still read their work, but not with the same fervor as the aforementioned novels. I imagine that if you spoke to either writer, nothing has changed about their approach to writing a novel. So what's different? Why the decline?
One of my favorite bands, The National, released their eighth studio album this year. While it's a great effort, it does not come close to touching the magic they had on Alligator and Boxer. They're still the same band. They obviously still know how to craft music. Why can't they just sound like the used to?
I gleaned some insight about The National from this Grantland piece. Singer Matt Berninger speaks about a peace of mind while recording this record, not caring how it sounded to anyone but himself, and the comfort with what the band has already accomplished–even admitting he'd be fine with the band never recording another album.
I didn't see it at the time of reading the review, but I should have thought "bad omen." I've written before about the power that comes from two alpha males in a band that don't necessarily get along. As sick as it sounds, I'd rather hear Matt say "Recording this album almost broke the band up. Bryce and I daily got into fights over how songs should sound. I don't know if I have it in me to do this again."
Are there any exceptions to these writers and bands that can defy the gradual decline in their work? Off the top of my head, David Foster Wallace comes to mind. After reading his biography, I got the sense that he was obsessed with what other people thought about him. Writing, for him, was like torture. He always thought he had these huge expectations to live up to. It's odd that, for such a celebrated author, he really only wrote three novels. But they were all quality pieces of work. Infinite Jest was probably the best novel of Wallace's generation, but his fans will admit that his posthumous piece The Pale King was probably his best work.
So why did Wallace's work continue to improve over his 20-year writing career, despite his fame and success. My guess: he was afraid of failure. I think a part of his mental illness was that he suffered from an insatiable need to please others. He stressed out over everything he wrote because he thought it might fail.
This fear is what drives young, hungry bands. It's the reason so many great bands spilt up or give up. They either fret too much over making the perfect album or they become comfortable just making music. I don't think money changes them or they "sellout" by making more accessible, radio friendly music. They're just no longer afraid of returning to their old jobs.
Too much success leads people to thinking that their success is the result of raw talent. The hard work is no longer necessary because they know what they're doing now. Success leads to complacency and the gradual decline of all great artists. Like Neil Young said, "It's better to burn out than it is to rust."
One of my favorite bands, The National, released their eighth studio album this year. While it's a great effort, it does not come close to touching the magic they had on Alligator and Boxer. They're still the same band. They obviously still know how to craft music. Why can't they just sound like the used to?
I gleaned some insight about The National from this Grantland piece. Singer Matt Berninger speaks about a peace of mind while recording this record, not caring how it sounded to anyone but himself, and the comfort with what the band has already accomplished–even admitting he'd be fine with the band never recording another album.
I didn't see it at the time of reading the review, but I should have thought "bad omen." I've written before about the power that comes from two alpha males in a band that don't necessarily get along. As sick as it sounds, I'd rather hear Matt say "Recording this album almost broke the band up. Bryce and I daily got into fights over how songs should sound. I don't know if I have it in me to do this again."
Are there any exceptions to these writers and bands that can defy the gradual decline in their work? Off the top of my head, David Foster Wallace comes to mind. After reading his biography, I got the sense that he was obsessed with what other people thought about him. Writing, for him, was like torture. He always thought he had these huge expectations to live up to. It's odd that, for such a celebrated author, he really only wrote three novels. But they were all quality pieces of work. Infinite Jest was probably the best novel of Wallace's generation, but his fans will admit that his posthumous piece The Pale King was probably his best work.
So why did Wallace's work continue to improve over his 20-year writing career, despite his fame and success. My guess: he was afraid of failure. I think a part of his mental illness was that he suffered from an insatiable need to please others. He stressed out over everything he wrote because he thought it might fail.
This fear is what drives young, hungry bands. It's the reason so many great bands spilt up or give up. They either fret too much over making the perfect album or they become comfortable just making music. I don't think money changes them or they "sellout" by making more accessible, radio friendly music. They're just no longer afraid of returning to their old jobs.
Too much success leads people to thinking that their success is the result of raw talent. The hard work is no longer necessary because they know what they're doing now. Success leads to complacency and the gradual decline of all great artists. Like Neil Young said, "It's better to burn out than it is to rust."
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
The Invisible Hand of Social Media
Have you ever explained something to a child or a person with no knowledge of the subject matter, and through the process of explaining you come to understand the subject matter better than before?
This happened to me recently while trying to explain what makes social media "work." What makes someone good at tweeting? Anyone can create a Twitter page, Facebook page, Instagram profile, et cetera. But what are the people doing that creates huge followings, multiple retweets, numerous likes and comments?
One of the first people to really "get" Twitter was Ashton Kutcher. It's odd when you think that he never took a marketing class or attended a social media webinar. And yet he had a huge following. Sure it helps that he's a celebrity, but there are many celebrities who don't come close to his Klout score.
And then there are so-called social media gurus that give presentations to amateur audiences where they basically explain what a hashtag is and how to make a Facebook profile private. They claim to be experts but most of them do a terrible job of engaging with their audience on their own social media pages—which is really what social media is about. Who cares how many friends you have? How many people comment on your post–that is the true measure of engagement.
It's the successful social media mavens like Kutcher whom are studied by those in the budding social media industry. They set the tone for what social media webinars discuss as best practices. It's difficult to sort them out since so many people are on social media—there is no gatekeeper filtering out those who are not "good" at it.
That's when I realized that social media is a free market. There are no rules for what a person must do to start a Facebook page or Twitter handle. Just like there are no rules from what a grocery store puts on their shelves, it just works by trial and error. Social media simply allows everyone to post whatever they want and users naturally gravitate toward people that share a similar set of practices. Ashton Kutcher didn't develop a strategy and implement it into his Twitter feed, he just used it in a way that made sense. The free market of social media chose him.
What are the practices that successful users implement?
It took a number of years, a lot of poorly executed profiles, and Adam Smith's invisible hand to formulate these "rules" but that's what an open market does. People flock to a business that puts out a good product. We know the product is successful based on sales. Likewise, people flock toward social media brands that follow the above rules.
This happened to me recently while trying to explain what makes social media "work." What makes someone good at tweeting? Anyone can create a Twitter page, Facebook page, Instagram profile, et cetera. But what are the people doing that creates huge followings, multiple retweets, numerous likes and comments?
One of the first people to really "get" Twitter was Ashton Kutcher. It's odd when you think that he never took a marketing class or attended a social media webinar. And yet he had a huge following. Sure it helps that he's a celebrity, but there are many celebrities who don't come close to his Klout score.
And then there are so-called social media gurus that give presentations to amateur audiences where they basically explain what a hashtag is and how to make a Facebook profile private. They claim to be experts but most of them do a terrible job of engaging with their audience on their own social media pages—which is really what social media is about. Who cares how many friends you have? How many people comment on your post–that is the true measure of engagement.
It's the successful social media mavens like Kutcher whom are studied by those in the budding social media industry. They set the tone for what social media webinars discuss as best practices. It's difficult to sort them out since so many people are on social media—there is no gatekeeper filtering out those who are not "good" at it.
That's when I realized that social media is a free market. There are no rules for what a person must do to start a Facebook page or Twitter handle. Just like there are no rules from what a grocery store puts on their shelves, it just works by trial and error. Social media simply allows everyone to post whatever they want and users naturally gravitate toward people that share a similar set of practices. Ashton Kutcher didn't develop a strategy and implement it into his Twitter feed, he just used it in a way that made sense. The free market of social media chose him.
What are the practices that successful users implement?
- Be humorous, but keep it PG.
- Be informal and friendly, but use correct grammar and spelling.
- Keep it conversational, social media is a telephone and not a megaphone.
- Be pithy. No one wants to read multiple tweets to get your point.
- Say it with a photo. Pictures are more pleasing than words.
It took a number of years, a lot of poorly executed profiles, and Adam Smith's invisible hand to formulate these "rules" but that's what an open market does. People flock to a business that puts out a good product. We know the product is successful based on sales. Likewise, people flock toward social media brands that follow the above rules.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
What We Talk About When We Talk About Death
Yesterday a friend of mine's brother died. His name was Seth Machak.
He had been admitted to a hospital days earlier after vomiting blood and was diagnosed with pneumonia. His lungs were bleeding and later filling up with fluid. His oxygen levels were low and he never left the ICU. The doctor's said the pneumonia was likely the result of a staph infection.
Whenever we find out that someone close to us has died, usually the first question we ask is "How did they die?" I think the reason is that we want to make sure that it won't happen to us. Especially as was the case with Seth, when the victim is young and healthy. Any untimely death is bad, but if we can find a cause like driving drunk, overdosing on drugs, or a smoker that developed lung cancer, we can at least say "I avoid that lifestyle. That won't happen to me."
But when it's a staph infection. . . .
When I was about ten-years old, I remember going through one of my dad's high school yearbooks. He found me, sat next to me, and began skimming through his classmates and pointing out the ones that are now dead. He wasn't being dark or callous or humorous, just very matter-of-fact. I remember thinking "How old will I be before I start doing that with my high school yearbook?"
I can think of four students, other than Seth, whom I knew well in high school that are dead now. One choked on his own vomit in his sleep while inebriated. Two killed themselves; one by rope and one by firearm. One died of a heart condition.
And now Seth dies from something that could have happened to anyone.
I used to look at people's lives as stories. They all end at some point, vary in length, some are humorous, and some are depressing. Now I'm starting to personify death, much like the grim reaper. The longer you live, the more people he is going to take and it doesn't matter to him how they go. He is going to come after people you love.
People die young. Even good people who seem to be doing all the right things in life. Death doesn't care. When you're time is up, it's up.
I've reached a point in my life where death is no longer something that happens to older people. My annual ratio of weddings to funerals still strongly favors the former, but the latter is no longer just a blip on the radar. It is real. And it's going to keep growing each year and eventually tilt the scales.
Even though I did not know Seth well, his passing made me realize how close we all may be to the end of our stories. And just how precious and valuable the gift of life is.
He had been admitted to a hospital days earlier after vomiting blood and was diagnosed with pneumonia. His lungs were bleeding and later filling up with fluid. His oxygen levels were low and he never left the ICU. The doctor's said the pneumonia was likely the result of a staph infection.
Whenever we find out that someone close to us has died, usually the first question we ask is "How did they die?" I think the reason is that we want to make sure that it won't happen to us. Especially as was the case with Seth, when the victim is young and healthy. Any untimely death is bad, but if we can find a cause like driving drunk, overdosing on drugs, or a smoker that developed lung cancer, we can at least say "I avoid that lifestyle. That won't happen to me."
But when it's a staph infection. . . .
When I was about ten-years old, I remember going through one of my dad's high school yearbooks. He found me, sat next to me, and began skimming through his classmates and pointing out the ones that are now dead. He wasn't being dark or callous or humorous, just very matter-of-fact. I remember thinking "How old will I be before I start doing that with my high school yearbook?"
I can think of four students, other than Seth, whom I knew well in high school that are dead now. One choked on his own vomit in his sleep while inebriated. Two killed themselves; one by rope and one by firearm. One died of a heart condition.
And now Seth dies from something that could have happened to anyone.
I used to look at people's lives as stories. They all end at some point, vary in length, some are humorous, and some are depressing. Now I'm starting to personify death, much like the grim reaper. The longer you live, the more people he is going to take and it doesn't matter to him how they go. He is going to come after people you love.
People die young. Even good people who seem to be doing all the right things in life. Death doesn't care. When you're time is up, it's up.
I've reached a point in my life where death is no longer something that happens to older people. My annual ratio of weddings to funerals still strongly favors the former, but the latter is no longer just a blip on the radar. It is real. And it's going to keep growing each year and eventually tilt the scales.
Even though I did not know Seth well, his passing made me realize how close we all may be to the end of our stories. And just how precious and valuable the gift of life is.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
For Whom Are We Designing?
ESPN Radio's Colin Cowherd, one of my favorite radio personalities, said something a few years back that I still think about to this day. It was shortly after The Departed came out in theaters and a lot of the reviews seemed to be very critical of the film. After admitting that he liked the movie, Cowherd turned his attention to the caustic critics and asked "Who are they writing for?" His best guess: other movie reviewers.
Cowherd's point was that most moviegoers are going to enjoy The Departed. Only film aficionados are going to find something to complain about; Scorcese relied too much on his old techniques, Nicholson's accent was pathetic, the movie doesn't tell us anything new, etc. Even if most of the people that went to the movie read the reviews, they're still likely to walk out of there going "I don't know what he was talking about. I thought it was pretty good." So why write for a small fringe audience?
I find myself asking the same question with regards to designing publications, and it's a very thin line. Do I eschew a particular font because it's not effective as a headline or because it's so 2010? Does the white space at the bottom of this page look like I left something out, or do the reader's eyes just drift to the text on the next page, glossing over the white space? Am I designing this so that other designers will look at it and be impressed with my work or so that it is visually pleasing and informative to the casual reader?
I've said before on this blog that the challenge of a marketing professional/designer/writer is to stop thinking like a marketing professional/designer/writer. Stop wasting time perfecting how a design looks to you. Design it for the typical viewer that will be reading it, and remember that they will be reading it. They won't be scanning the design and wondering why you used a sans serif font for the body of the text. Give them a reason to look at your design, then make it easy for them to find the information they need.
Cowherd's point was that most moviegoers are going to enjoy The Departed. Only film aficionados are going to find something to complain about; Scorcese relied too much on his old techniques, Nicholson's accent was pathetic, the movie doesn't tell us anything new, etc. Even if most of the people that went to the movie read the reviews, they're still likely to walk out of there going "I don't know what he was talking about. I thought it was pretty good." So why write for a small fringe audience?
I find myself asking the same question with regards to designing publications, and it's a very thin line. Do I eschew a particular font because it's not effective as a headline or because it's so 2010? Does the white space at the bottom of this page look like I left something out, or do the reader's eyes just drift to the text on the next page, glossing over the white space? Am I designing this so that other designers will look at it and be impressed with my work or so that it is visually pleasing and informative to the casual reader?
I've said before on this blog that the challenge of a marketing professional/designer/writer is to stop thinking like a marketing professional/designer/writer. Stop wasting time perfecting how a design looks to you. Design it for the typical viewer that will be reading it, and remember that they will be reading it. They won't be scanning the design and wondering why you used a sans serif font for the body of the text. Give them a reason to look at your design, then make it easy for them to find the information they need.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Someone to Push
I once heard that a band cannot have more than one, at the most two, leaders. By leaders, I mean someone who provides the creative direction of the band. For instance, George Harrison was obviously a very talented musician, but he was in John and Paul's band. Sure, he got a song or two on each record, but The Beatles' sound was created by John and Paul. They were merely making concessions. Hell, they even let Ringo sing a number or two.
A more recent example is Radiohead, where the creative direction is driven by Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood. Two very talented musicians (each play guitar, piano, and "laptop"- or computer generated sounds) that each have their own style (Thom Yorke's solo work on The Eraser and Greenwood's score for There Will be Blood) but come together to create complex, beautiful, and often times downright weird music. For a five-piece band that's been together this long, it's amazing that they are still touring and producing high-quality music. It should come as no suprise then, that the other band members cede to the whims of Thom and Jonny. Ed O'Brien is a very talented guitarist, but he spends many songs shaking a tambourine if that's what Thom or Jonny decided the song calls for.
Another recent band that has not held together as well is Wilco. I believe singer/guitarist Jeff Tweedy and the bassist (his name escapes me) are the only band members from the A.M. sessions still playing together. Through the first four albums, the band's sound was driven by Tweedy and multi instrumentalist Jay Bennett. Eventually they butted heads too much and Jay was asked to leave. Although they've made four successful records since, many believe they are no longer the same band.
The John/Paul, Thom/Jonny, Jeff/Jay combos all tell me the same thing: it is not enough to have to talented leaders, they have to push one another to create the best music possible. Which brings me to my favorite band (apparently) no one has heard of, Margot and the Nuclear So and Sos. Their recent release, Rot Gut, Domestic and their previous album Buzzard have some great rock songs on there that I quite enjoy. Yet, I am ultimately disappointed. Why? Because their first two albums were amazing, specifically the Animal/Not Animal sessions. To this day, Animal is one of my absolute favorite albums that I own.
There were more horns, more cello, more open spaces for singer Richard Edwards' voice, and more creepy yet beautiful soundscapes. There isn't much information about the band online so I can only guess as to what happened. In a recent interview, Edwards mentioned that the earlier sound was the product of "everyone wanting their say" on each track. Since then, the size of the band has dropped from 8 to 6 and the sound has become more rock and less adventurous. I had a theory about what happened, and decided to do some research.
According to Wikipedia, Edwards started the band with Andy Frye, a producer and multi instrumentalist (hints of Jonny Greenwood and Jay Bennet here). After the first two albums, Frye left the band and my guess is that control was left to Edwards. Again, this is only conjecture, but Frye was probably the one pushing Edwards to perfect the sound they created in the studio for those albums.
I see this all the time in the business world, people want total control and won't abdicate to another leader who challenges their views. Unfortunately, two alphas working toward the same goal usually produces fantastic results. I don't know what Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood have done to make it work for so long. I just know that equal input from everyone does not work. It waters down the whole process.
Everyone talks about how important it is to have leaders, but it's just as important for those leaders to have followers, ready to swallow their pride and play their role and, if they're lucky, another leader to push them toward greatness.
A more recent example is Radiohead, where the creative direction is driven by Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood. Two very talented musicians (each play guitar, piano, and "laptop"- or computer generated sounds) that each have their own style (Thom Yorke's solo work on The Eraser and Greenwood's score for There Will be Blood) but come together to create complex, beautiful, and often times downright weird music. For a five-piece band that's been together this long, it's amazing that they are still touring and producing high-quality music. It should come as no suprise then, that the other band members cede to the whims of Thom and Jonny. Ed O'Brien is a very talented guitarist, but he spends many songs shaking a tambourine if that's what Thom or Jonny decided the song calls for.
Another recent band that has not held together as well is Wilco. I believe singer/guitarist Jeff Tweedy and the bassist (his name escapes me) are the only band members from the A.M. sessions still playing together. Through the first four albums, the band's sound was driven by Tweedy and multi instrumentalist Jay Bennett. Eventually they butted heads too much and Jay was asked to leave. Although they've made four successful records since, many believe they are no longer the same band.
The John/Paul, Thom/Jonny, Jeff/Jay combos all tell me the same thing: it is not enough to have to talented leaders, they have to push one another to create the best music possible. Which brings me to my favorite band (apparently) no one has heard of, Margot and the Nuclear So and Sos. Their recent release, Rot Gut, Domestic and their previous album Buzzard have some great rock songs on there that I quite enjoy. Yet, I am ultimately disappointed. Why? Because their first two albums were amazing, specifically the Animal/Not Animal sessions. To this day, Animal is one of my absolute favorite albums that I own.
There were more horns, more cello, more open spaces for singer Richard Edwards' voice, and more creepy yet beautiful soundscapes. There isn't much information about the band online so I can only guess as to what happened. In a recent interview, Edwards mentioned that the earlier sound was the product of "everyone wanting their say" on each track. Since then, the size of the band has dropped from 8 to 6 and the sound has become more rock and less adventurous. I had a theory about what happened, and decided to do some research.
According to Wikipedia, Edwards started the band with Andy Frye, a producer and multi instrumentalist (hints of Jonny Greenwood and Jay Bennet here). After the first two albums, Frye left the band and my guess is that control was left to Edwards. Again, this is only conjecture, but Frye was probably the one pushing Edwards to perfect the sound they created in the studio for those albums.
I see this all the time in the business world, people want total control and won't abdicate to another leader who challenges their views. Unfortunately, two alphas working toward the same goal usually produces fantastic results. I don't know what Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood have done to make it work for so long. I just know that equal input from everyone does not work. It waters down the whole process.
Everyone talks about how important it is to have leaders, but it's just as important for those leaders to have followers, ready to swallow their pride and play their role and, if they're lucky, another leader to push them toward greatness.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Advice on Writing
Two quotes from two of my favorite writers have changed the way I think about writing.
"Find a subject you care about and which you in your heart feel others should care about. It is this genuine caring, not your games with language, which will be the most compelling and seductive element in your style.” - Kurt Vonnegut
"This was the old slap-on-the-fingers- if-your-modifiers-were-caught-dangling stuff. Correct spelling, correct punctuation, correct grammar. Hundreds of rules for itsy-bitsy people. No one could remember all that stuff and concentrate on what he was trying to write about. It was all table manners, not derived from any sense of kindness or decency or humanity, but originally from an egotistic desire to look like gentlemen and ladies. Gentlemen and ladies had good table manners and spoke and wrote grammatically. It was what identified one with the upper classes." -Robert Pirsig
"Find a subject you care about and which you in your heart feel others should care about. It is this genuine caring, not your games with language, which will be the most compelling and seductive element in your style.” - Kurt Vonnegut
"This was the old slap-on-the-fingers- if-your-modifiers-were-caught-dangling stuff. Correct spelling, correct punctuation, correct grammar. Hundreds of rules for itsy-bitsy people. No one could remember all that stuff and concentrate on what he was trying to write about. It was all table manners, not derived from any sense of kindness or decency or humanity, but originally from an egotistic desire to look like gentlemen and ladies. Gentlemen and ladies had good table manners and spoke and wrote grammatically. It was what identified one with the upper classes." -Robert Pirsig
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