Blogging Pheromones

Some of you love this blog. Some of you like it. Some of you tolerate it. Some of you unsubscribe. This is how life goes in the blogosphere.

And I’m so curious to know why. Why do some of you ooh and ahh and hyperventilate with joy while reading and send me emails professing your love, while some of you just shrug your shoulders and move on? Why do I wait anxiously for some feeds to appear in my email and hit delete when I get others?

You all know that I have very serious thoughts and feelings and opinions about smell. The power of the nose? It’s astounding, not least because of its use of pheromones.

pheromone |?fer??m?n|
noun Zoology
A chemical substance produced and released into the environment by an animal, esp. a mammal or an insect, affecting the behavior or physiology of others of its species.

There are some people in this world that smell so good to us that we can’t keep our hands off them – literally. It’s carnal and biological. Their very scent lights something up inside of us. It makes us do crazy things – more hypnotic and tantalizing than a full moon. Much, I’d say.

And there are some people in this world that smell so bad to us that we can’t get far enough away from them. It’s also carnal and biological. Their very scent brings something up inside of us. And it’s usually revulsion. It makes us do crazy things – like run away, it can even make us cruel in our distaste.

So…

Can you smell me? I didn’t think so. Because I can’t smell you. Which leads me to believe that there’s some sort of blogging pheromone wafting about.

What makes us connect, fuse and fall in blogging love? And what make us delete, leave nasty comments and close the window? It must be the words, the sentiment, the emotion, the energy, the shared life experience, the joy (or disdain) of shared humanity.

Image credit: Brouhaha (I could NOT resist this picture)

The Sex and the City Guide to Copyblogging – (Copyblogger post)

Originally posted on Copyblogger

I’ve always been of the opinion that if Carrie Bradshaw had popped onto our television screens in 2010 instead of 1998, she would have been a blogger. But alas, she didn’t, so she wrote a (gasp!) print column for the fictional New York Star newspaper.

Yes, before there were blogs, there were newspaper columns – where readers couldn’t talk back or share good content. ‘Carrie the blogger’ would have been huge.

Though the words of Carrie and her cohorts have not been etched in permalink stone, their messages linger on. And despite the fact that Carrie was allergic to the internet and only used her Apple Powerbook for word processing her articles, the lessons, ideas and, more pointedly, the actual quotes that came barreling out of Sex and the City still speak directly to us Copybloggers.

“You sleep with someone, all of a sudden you start rationalizing all of the red flags away.”

Now, hopefully, you aren’t sleeping with your clients, readers or other bloggers (on a regular basis). Typically, the copybloggers’ dangling carrot (no pun intended, I swear) isn’t sex, it’s money….

Hop on over to Copyblogger to finish reading this post, yo.

(And I haven’t forgotten the non-hoopla post…it’s coming!)

Image credit: 22

Dang. Another Fork.

Remember in The Muppet Movie when Kermit and Fozzie are driving along and the map says there’s a fork in the road and they look up and there’s actually a huge fork sticking out of the ground? I frickin’ love that.

The frog and the bear were following directions, so they knew which way to go when they came upon this fork. But the rest of us aren’t always that lucky. Like me, today. I’m writing and everything’s going just fine and then I get to this place – it’s my fork in the writing road. And I have no map.

Suddenly, I have a choice. I’m writing about the importance of having community as a blogger – and I can focus on the virtues of the greater collective or I can highlight the benefits of having a few key people. There’s not room for both in my post, but the real issue for me is this: it’s hard to let go of either option. What if I pick the wrong one? How will I ever know what might have been? And, no, I do not have time to write it both ways and then pick. But, that’s a nice fantasy.

As I write this, I realize that the Zen take on this dilemma (Alisa – you’ve corrupted my conscience!) would be to embrace the fork not as a ’split’ or an ‘either or’, but as a bastion of opportunity and abundance! “Wow – look at that,” I would say. “I can choose option A and then write another post about option B. Lucky me!” But, I don’t want two posts. I want one. The right one.

My July birthday makes me a Cancer, ruled by water and the moon and my emotions and passion. Apparently this means that:

• I cling (you know, with my crab claws).
• I have needs that want to be filled deeply and immediately.
• I have an aversion to failure and opposition.
• (Oh, and I don’t like to be told what to do. This has absolutely nothing to do with this my point in this post. I just like knowing that this isn’t a character flaw, but an astrological fact that is beyond my control. Can someone call my all of my teachers, K – 12, and let them know? Thanks.)

Back to my point, something happens to me psychologically (or metaphysically? or astrologically?) when I have to make a choice between two ideas. I clutch them both tightly – and when I finally choose option A, I feel like I’ve failed option B. I don’t like the disparity that is inherent in making the choice.

So, quite often I find myself staring at my computer screen – contemplating the death of a thread in a post. Interestingly enough, the Muppets give me a nudge out of this pothole at the end of the movie with their final song. It goes a little something like this:

“Life’s like a movie, write your own ending, keep believing, keep pretending…”

I think Kermit just told me to fake it till I make it. And I think Kermit just told me that I literally can’t get it wrong. I just need to choose…and keep driving.

How do you handle forks?

Image credit: Dcosand

Surgically removed

On Tuesday, my baby girl, the fruit of my loins, is having surgery. I’ve been effectively not thinking about this for weeks. But now it’s right here, days away. It’s a supposedly easy, out-patient thing, but she has to go completely under – and, well, it’s surgery. And she’s so little.

She’s having surgery to have her adenoids removed because she can’t breathe and because we’ve tried everything else and because they’re causing her pain and discomfort and hearing loss and tooth decay and god knows what else.

So, I’m trying to find something good here in this situation – because to sit around and worry is, well, really stupid. And here’s what occurred to me. There are times when I have tried everything, when I’ve explored every option – but the pain and discomfort and god knows what else is still there.

How cool would it be if surgery were an option for me? There are some things I’d like to have surgically removed. Like my knack for procrastination and people that don’t use their turn signals and the scarcity of time and my intense need for Vanilla Coconut Bliss with carob powder smushed into it.

I’d love to have those things hacked off. Or sucked out. Like liposuction.

In one of my favorite movies, Someone Like You, Ashley Judd goes to the doctor and asks him to remove her amygdala  – the part of the brain that retains sense memory – because every time she smells laundry or vanilla it reminds her of her ex-boyfriend and she’s thrown into a tailspin of heartache. It’s a fantastic scene. Raise your hand if you can relate.

What about you? What would you have removed? You know, if you could do it painlessly, easily, with no recovery time required – oh, and, of course, if your health insurance would cover it.

Image credit: aesop

Who needs statistics when we’ve got reality.

While many of my friends spent our junior year abroad in exotic places like Florence, Tanzania, Nepal, Paris and Argentina, I opted for the wilds of St. Louis, MO.

My main gig was volunteering at a domestic violence agency where I researched and wrote the organization’s history, taught dating violence prevention in local schools and worked on the 24-hour crisis hotline. And in order to do this terrifying and terribly important hotline work, I went through an intense and long training program.

• I learned why women stay in abusive relationships when it seems so obvious to the rest of us that they should leave.
• I learned that violence is a vicious cycle.
• And, I learned a number of statistics.

Most of theses numbers have stuck in my brain like gnarly, nasty pieces of chewed gum stuck under the lunch table – ugly to look at, hard to touch, easy to pretend they aren’t there. One of the stats goes like this: The day with the highest rate of domestic violence in the U.S. is Super Bowl Sunday.

Colts vs. Saints

Two days ago, as I sat at my computer working and occasionally watching the Facebook and Twitter streams of Super Bowl brouhaha pass me by, I found it hard to ignore this stuck-in-my-head statistic. I felt rising panic at what was likely going on as the Colts looked good…and then really bad, as the alcohol was consumed, as the chips ran out, as the bets were lost.

So, I put up a tweet and a FB status update telling people about the stat and offering up the number for the National Domestic Violence Hotline. 1-800-799-SAFE (7233), or 1-800-787-3224 (TTY)

What happened next utterly, totally and completely floored me.

Some women, women, came after me. They said the stat was bogus. One said, and I quote: “That is an unfounded myth propogated by the media and womens activist groups. Set the record straight.” (spelling/grammar errors are listed verbatim)

Can you imagine? Women-centric activist groups having the nerve to tell the world that on a day when alcohol, tension and the chance for losing large sums of money are high, there is a greater incidence of domestic violence? The horror. Don’t get me started on the idea that these groups have been lumped in with ‘the media’.

I’ve since learned there are many sides to the validity of the actual stat.

This comment also included the following quote, “On January 31, 1993, when Ken Ringle of The Washington Post questioned the information mentioned in the press release, other news media quickly retracted their articles covering the domestic violence story. The damage was done. The myth continues and Super Bowl Sunday is still sometimes referred to as Bloody Sunday, Abuse Bowl, a Day of Dread, and the Most Dangerous Day in America.”

The damage was done. Yes. Citizens of this country were once again made to look at the fact that women and children are beaten in their own homes every single day by the people who are supposed to love and cherish them. And how dare we disrupt Super Bowl Sunday with this blasphemy! Oh holy, holy day!

My question is, who cares about the validity of this stat? IS THIS WHAT WE SHOULD BE WASTING OUR BREATH ARGUING ABOUT? Domestic Violence is true, real, happening  - right now. And what made these women flare up against me and my status update about this? It confounds me!!! For heaven’s sake, use your breath to help someone, not squabble over what Snopes says!

And how can we believe that information from Ken Ringle up above. Hello? How many lies are we fed every day by industries with ulterior motives!?! I mean, do you really think Cheerios will save you from getting heart disease? PLEASE!!! The fight against the Super Bowl stat is based in the fact that it is a huge day for advertisers and TV: ‘Don’t fuck it up for us with your downer information, thank you’ is, I believe, their message.

My mom

My mother, bless her, has spent roughly 20 years of her life tirelessly working to bring awareness to and raise money for the ugly reality of domestic violence – and she isn’t done yet. Having retired from her role as Development Director, she’s now taking the training again so that she’s up to date and ready to again volunteer on the crisis hotline at Safe Connections in St. Louis.

In her training session this past Saturday (the day before the Big Game), someone (coincidentally) asked about the Super Bowl statistic. And the Director of the hotline said there’s a lot of discrepancy about the statistic. But that the organization personally tracks all of their calls, and every year, every year calls and DV reports spike on Super Bowl Sunday and the entire week that follows.

Statistic are hard to get. Especially when they surround an issue that people keep quiet, viciously undercover – so they don’t get arrested (the abuser) or so that they don’t get killed by their abuser (the abusee). Another stat: the chance an abused woman will be killed by her abuser if she tries to leave the situation increases roughly 75%.

What we do know is that an agency in downtown St. Louis, Missouri (middle America, right in the heartland) has their own stats. And they aren’t good.

If you or someone you know is being hurt, please reach out. Everyone deserves to be safe.

1-800-799-SAFE (7233), or 1-800-787-3224 (TTY)

Image credit: sinosplice

Having the last word

There’s something that’s always intrigued me about Carrie Bradshaw. I mean, there are many, many things, but there’s this one in particular. (In case you’ve been living under a rock, Carrie’s the main character on a little show called Sex and the City where she writes a column for a New York City paper.)

She writes about sex and being single and dating in Manhattan (and occasionally some other boroughs). She writes specifically about her experiences with sex, being single and dating in Manhattan. Her experiences. Which means that her column is a tidy, often hilarious and always poignant take on what’s happened to her and around her. (Um, yes, I’m writing in the present tense, they are making the 2nd movie as we speak and talking about a 3rd, so she’s alive and well as far as I’m concerned.)

But the best part (and the intriguing part) is that she gets the last word via her column. Every time. Every single time. (To quote her in Season 4 – if you actually name the episode in the comments below, you will be rewarded somehow.)

Worrying about Tom, Dick, Harry or Jane

When I was writing about finding voice and speaking with authenticity the other day, it occurred to me that when you talk candidly, you might rub someone the wrong way – you could even hurt them. For instance, I offended people with small dogs. But Carrie never seems to let this cross her mind. You never once hear her say (over the course of 6 seasons and 1 movie), ‘maybe I shouldn’t write that because Tom, Dick, Harry or Jane might read this’. She’s unapologetic in her forthcomingness. And, I might add, she also happens to be an exceedingly nice person.

Yes. I (kind of) know it’s fiction. But I’m a writer and a dreamer, so I can’t help but think about those poor characters opening the paper and reading about their relationship failures or their small (well, you know) or how they tried to suck Charlotte’s face off or about how they broke up with Carrie on a post-it note.

Tying it up

This heroine seamlessly wraps it up, sticks a bow on the end and closes her laptop. How glorious is that?

It doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s no longer happy or pissed off or sad or mulling it over. Though I can only guess that having the last word helps with some of that. We, writers, know that writing it down – last word or not – is therapeutic and critical. But, as writers, as bloggers, as journalists…do we always get the last word? Or is that just the ’stuff’ of really good cable TV?

Image credit: Kill Pop

Posing Nude, part 1

In my life, I’ve woken up to many things: dogs wanting to go outside, babies crying, dorm fire alarms going off, delightful lovers, the announcement that the plane was about to land. But this morning was a first. I woke up to a text, from my painter friend – Traeger, that said, “Would you consider modeling nude for my drawing class?”

You’ll be thrilled to know that my very first thought was, I can write about this!

The reality is that I’m totally game. I mean, what do I spend my time here writing about anyway? Life really, as a writer. Exploring the experiences of life through words. And this, my friends, will certainly be an experience.

It took me a couple of hours to acknowledge the ‘nude’ part of the equation. Wait…nope…yeah, no…I haven’t quite let that sink in yet. I’m too caught up in the rest of it.

Like the fact that they think it’s a great idea if I bring my laptop and pose with it – so that I can write while I pose, so that I can live tweet this experience. Like the fact that one of the artists is kind of a big deal. Like the fact that I will be doing something I’ve never done before, something that requires cajones. Like the fact that I’ll get paid (that doesn’t make me a hooker, right?).

Just one last question, do you think I’m really going to have to take my clothes off?

Stay tuned…’cause obviously there’s going to be a part deux.

Image credit: apc33

Want to be a Better Writer? Get Your Ego Out of the Way (copyblogger)

Raise your hand if you’re a writer.

Now, raise your hand if you have a nice-sized ego.

And now, raise your hand if you lied on that last one and kept your hand down.

The thing is, writing and a big ego kind of go hand in hand. And if you haven’t quit, gone crazy, or offed yourself yet — which I know you haven’t because you were just raising your hand — then like it or not, you have a big ego.

How do I know this? Well…

To read the rest of this post, hop on over to Copyblogger where, I’m pleased as punch to share, I am now a regular contributor…

And I hope you don’t mind me making you click to read the rest, but this post (and I’m guessing all of the posts I put on Copyblogger) are also posts that I’ll want to share with you – AND (I’m hoping you know this already) it is bad, bad blogging behavior to reprint the whole article in duplicate here. Copyblogger owns it now…

I’m sending you off on an adventure around the blogosphere…and the importance of a landing page

Really, I am. I’m sending you elsewhere…(but just for a little field trip).

Because today, I have a post that lives on a different blog. It’s a little, teeny, tiny blog with oh, I don’t know, over 100,000 subscribers and god only knows how many daily hits. (I like to fantasize that it’s a million).

But before I send you off, I have to share an important trick of the trade that I’ve learned via this particular guest posting experience. How many times have you read a guest post on one of your favorite blogs, loved it and clicked through to the author’s site only to land on their home page or blog where you poke around directionless before either 1) subscribing because you liked the guest post so much or 2) leaving because it’s all just kind of blah or 3) finding this blogger’s blog so enthralling that you read everything they’ve ever written?

When Sonia Simone, Copybloggers’ Senior Editor, emailed me to arrange my guest post, she recommended that I create a landing page for Copyblogger traffic. Brilliant. Really, this is such a fantastic idea. I immediately created a page that my guest post bio would link back to on my site instead of just sending them to my blog url. The page tells new visitors:

• Who I am
• What I do
• Where to find the things I want them to find on my site (ebook, teleclass info, blog, services, etc.)
• Special projects

You could also include:

• Links for people to buy your products
• Favorite blog posts
• Contact information
• And on and on

I’ve seen people use landing pages for Google Ads, their Twitter (or other social media sites), conference bios, etc. It’s your landing page, you are directing the flow of traffic exactly how you want to, total control.

Guest posting is a very good thing. It’s critical for bloggers interested in growing their readership. But, ceating a landing page for new readers so they know where to go and what to do and how to get the most out of you? As I said, brilliant.

And now, without any further ado, I’d love for you to click on over to Copyblogger to read my post. And you can find my landing page here.

Thanks y’all.

Image credit: waywuwei

That feeling…when you just KNOW.

Last spring, just before my mom joined us to be SuperNana for the summer, she told me she was ready for a new dog. We’ve always been a big dog family, and it had been way too long since my parents had one messing up in their house.

So, like any good daughter, I dragged myself, kicking and screaming to visit a litter of 5 week-old chocolate and black lab puppies. I know, it was a hardship.

I picked out the most perfect little girl. My mom arrived, we got to have a puppy all summer and then they left, heading back to St. Louis…until a few weeks ago – when a much bigger puppy came back for a long visit. Knowing how mothers and daughters love each other so, my mom really wanted to take Annie (the pup) back to see Katie (her mom).

The first 20 minutes was mayhem. There were a few other dogs there and everyone was just running and playing and barking and being all dog like.

And then, it happened. Something clicked for Katie. She grabbed Annie by the back of the neck, rolled her down on the ground and proceeded to sniff every single thread of fur on her body. Annie, who – I swear to God never stops moving – remained motionless on the ground for the duration if this sniffestigation.

I’m with you Katie. When you know you know. It grabs hold of you. It’s the sweet spot on the tennis racket. It’s fresh baked sourdough bread with a inch-high gob of deep-yellow butter on top. It’s meeting someone that feels like home.

It’s how I feel when I’m writing something really good. It’s like the idea grabs my mind and my fingertips and pulls me down a pipeline of bliss. Heart pounding, mind thrumming, I literally can’t get the words out the door fast enough. But still, I manage to sniff every single one of them before I let them go.