Is your blog a waste of time?

Blogs have been categorized as:

• Pointless
• Ego-capsules
• Not read by anyone
• Overdone
• Underpaid
• Time wasters
• Not real marketing tools
• Should I go on?

That’s great. Go ahead with your bad self and believe that hooey. But it just occurred to me that my two main writing gigs right now (you know, the ones that are feeding and housing and otherwise gainfully supporting my family) are mine because of this blog.

After seeing/hearing one of the co-founders of gig #1, I wrote a post about my experience sitting in the audience and moving about my life in relation to what she’d spoken about that morning. I emailed her and thanked her and shared the link. The rest, as they say, is in the bank and on my resume.

When I began writing for company #2, the boss checked me out online—which led him here. Which led him to the realization that if I wrote for them the way I write on this blog, they would have writing and content creation and creative vision that completely broke out of the industry standard (in a good way).

What I get from these stories is this: people/companies/industries want to do it differently (or the good ones that are worth working for do anyway). They want to stand out. And they’re looking for something real, that resonates.

In both cases, I didn’t follow some weird, get rich quick gizmo. I was just myself. I was writing the way I wanted to write. The way that I love to write. The way that lights me up. I followed my own trail of happy. Hit my own personal sweet spot. And, kapow, it lit some other people up, too.

Remember when people sent wild and crazy resumes—in video, in varying shapes and sizes, in the guise of a gimmick? (That seems like it was the 80′s, maybe early 90′s? Because in the 80′s I was still a kid…so why would I have known that? Anyway, I digress.)

This is like that-ish. Only better. I say: create a space where you can be YOU. And don’t make it a one time deal like the resume. Keep it going, let it move and ricochet and travel with you. Let them see you write, sing, sculpt, build, sell, help, cook, run—whatever it is that you do in just that you-like way. Let yourself out. Fully.

Wonder if you’re wasting your time.

And then rev up your vacuum—first on the ‘blow out’ setting…until you’re ready to start pulling it all in.

Image credit: pittcaleb

Walking away

How do you know when something is no longer working? Could be a client relationship, a blog post, some marketing copy, your novel, a relationship, your life…take your pick. You know because:

• You no longer feel good when you’re doing it.
• Or after you’re done.
• It’s no longer offering solutions.
• It doesn’t give you what you need.
• The pervasive feelings are dark: sadness, worry, fear.

So…you should stop doing it right?

But still, even knowing all of those things, it’s hard to walk away.

Because you used to want it, more than anything else. Because it’s familiar. Because change is hard. Because trying new things can be terrifying—stepping into the unknown. Because if you just try a little harder, you can make it work. Dammit.

Yeah. But I also think it’s this:

Junior High Syndrome

(which is oddly synchronous with the Stockholm Syndrome, now that I think about it)

There are certain things I remember about junior high. My bad, bad, bad short and asymmetrical haircut. Mean teachers. Making out with my first true love. Painfully matching Esprit outfits.

And I also remember the feeling of needing to be everywhere at once—and this is the Syndrome. That if some of my friends were going to the mall and some were going to the pool—I was screwed because I felt a dizzying desire to be in both places at once. It was scary not to be ‘there’, not to have a presence.

Why? Because something might be missed! Back then it was being in on a private joke or meeting a cute boy or having your best friend bond with someone else.

Today, what could be missed seems more critical: the chance to work on an incredible project, writing the best thing you’ve ever written, connecting with someone who could network you into the stratosphere, the single most important dose of inspiration ever, the truest of loves, real happiness and fulfillment.

But, wait!

All evidence up to this point has shown you that your current situation is 99.99999% likely not to give you any of the things that you want it to give you.

So why? WHY WOULD YOU STAY? Will you miss the struggle that much?

Why in the world wouldn’t you decide there was something better over there—better words, better people, better opportunities, better betterness. Why in the world wouldn’t you get up and walk away. Why?

Image credit: Shannonyeh

Reason 314 to hire a copywriter: We bring it

You know that I love my work. But some days, well, I love it an extra lot.

I got a rush assignment on Friday to write the opening speech for an annual company meeting. Does that sound boring to you? Okay, keep your pants on. It gets better.

During the prep meeting, I learned that the company is not thrilled with its team’s performance. The tone of these opening remarks was to be unapologetic, in your face, take no prisoners. Terms like, ‘there are no excuses’ were tossed around. And I couldn’t help jotting down in my notes, ‘there are no points for second place’ – just like Jester said.

Oh, and then I was told that the audience is primarily men. Smart, high-performing, extremely motivated, (cocky, arrogant bastard) men. The words in the parentheses are all mine. I’m a writer, I editorialize, I can’t help it—but believe me, that was the tone. (I editorialize, but I don’t make things up—I’m not a fiction writer, after all.)

“This thing needs testosterone,’ I was told.

Remember the Brady Bunch where Marcia gets through her speech-giving nerves by imagining the audience in their underwear? Well, I just imagined this audience full of my old boyfriends.

And I had so much fun bitch-slapping them around with my words, that it took me all of 45 minutes and one draft to nail it.

Which brings me back to Reason 314 to hire a copywriter. We really can bring it—whatever kind of it you happen to need…

Image credit: khowaga1 (and yes, that is a picture of my exes in their underwear)

Reason #4343 to hire a copywriter: Seeing eye to eye

One of the best things about walking out from behind your computer screen and going to conferences is meeting people that heretofore you only knew as an avatar.

Let me fill you in on something. No one looks like their avatar. Some look worse, some look better (Oh! How my fingers ache to put examples behind those statements!) and they’re all decidedly warmer. But, no one looks like you think they will.

Case in point, Steve Sherlock came to find me at SOBCon. There were big hugs, “I’m so glad to finally meet you”s, and on and on. And then there was my realization that he was roughly 8 feet tall. And that I’m not (I forget this fact a lot – sort of like a chihuahua). He noticed too, saying, “Wow, from your Twitter avatar, I thought you’d be much taller!”

“She’s larger than life,” said my dear friend Andi. God bless ‘er.

This ‘in person’ thing is the only time I don’t like being short – ’cause otherwise, I really like it:

• I curl up in chairs easily.
• My feet have never hung off the end of a bed or stuck out of the covers.
• I can be carried easily in cases of emergency (or passion).
• Falling down hurts less.
• I’m afraid of heights.

But, when I’m talking to a peer and I have to look up at them to converse, a power imbalance ensues. And, unless the tall person gets off on intimidation and lording over others or unless the short person thinks of themself as unworthy and, well, small – I don’t think it’s comfortable for either party.

Personally, I simply won’t stand for it. I want to look into your eyes, not up your nose. So I did this (see below) and it was caught on camera and tweeted by Steve Woodruff.

@Swoodruff: Julie @writingroads strategy for having face time with tall people

(Ignore the face I’m making in this photo, I’ve run through every word I know and I can’t find one that causes that face.)

See, it’s like I told you the other day, I’m not above stepping on things to get what I need.

The Power of the copywriter

Good copywriters solve problems. If your competition or your dream clients are ‘taller’ or ‘shorter’ than you, copywriters and content creators (and social media strategists) should be able to figure out a way to get you to eye level, to position your message and brand in a way that creates a natural conversation, connection and relationship.

Interruption marketing just isn’t cutting it anymore. It’s done from a perspective where the company is decidedly bigger or smaller than their customer, and therefore, has to scream to get their attention. Interruption tactics include:

• TV commercials
• Radio commercials
• Let’s face it: all commercials
• Blinking, obnoxious ‘BUY THIS’ windows that open when you’re just trying to read a post
• Pushing your products on people
• Not listening, just talking/yelling/shouting
• Taking, sucking and bogarting the energy

As opposed to relationship, or relational or human, marketing. Blogging and social media tools can be used quite effectively as a means to this relationship building, by the way.

• Meeting people where they are.
• Listening to what clients and customers need.
• Solving their problems.
• Not pushing your product on them.
• Giving, not taking.
• Being a real person.
• Building a relationship of trust.

All difficult things to do when you’re staring into someone’s belly button.

Temptation

Do you know that moment? The one where you’re sitting there all perfectly content and everything, and then someone says, “I could really go for a grilled cheese.”

And then you’re thinking about the grilled cheese. At first it’s just a benign thought. After all, you weren’t hungry – not even a little bit ’cause you just ate like an hour ago. So you say, “Sounds nice, enjoy!”

But then, you’re thinking about the grilled cheese…a lot. You’re thinking about the crispy, buttery bread. And the warm, salty hit of the cheese. And the guacamole you’re slathering on it. (Granted that last part might just be me.)

And then you start to feel hungry. You tell yourself it’s just your imagination. But your imagination feels an awful lot like actual hunger pains.

So you start to rationalize the grilled cheese because  now you think you’re really hungry. And it would be downright inhumane to not feed yourself when you’re hungry – even if you’re on a diet from things like grilled cheese sandwiches.

At this point, the grilled cheese is all that you can think about: the sandwich itself, your desire, your hunger, the fact that you ‘shouldn’t’ have one…and the debate that has begun. That little voice, who can barely be heard over the sizzle in the pan, pipes up and squeaks, “You’re going to be unhappy after you eat it! You’ll regret it! Do not be led astray! Go do something else! Feed yourself some other way! I’m begging you!”

And you fire back, “Don’t be ridiculous! I’ll be fine. I’m a grownup for Pete’s sake. And I’m hungry! I need this grilled cheese!” The fact that the voice mentioned some things that are probably true, pissing you off and making you even more hungry and justified in your desperation for the grilled cheese.

Life as you knew it 3 minutes ago is now over. You can’t write, you can’t concentrate, you can’t have a conversation.

It might not be a grilled cheese, you know – that’s the easy way out and it has the lightest-weight repercussions. It might be a person or a place or heroin. Maybe you want to call someone you shouldn’t. Maybe you want to go somewhere you shouldn’t. Maybe you want just one more hit.

But let’s go back to that moment, at the beginning, when you didn’t even know you wanted it or him or her – and then, a millisecond later when you became obsessed. That leap? Bottle it. What a powerful tool for a writer to have.

_____________________________________

As a ‘reader’ how do you not jump off the cliff? As a ‘writer’ how do you make sure we do?

Image credit: crispy fried (which is really very ironical, n’est pas?)

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

Reason 731 to hire a copywriter or The demise of Steve Jobs

First, watch this video (or at least the first 30 seconds)…

My dear friend and tech writer extraordinaire, Ron Miller, posted this video on his blog and sent me over to see it. And I have to tell you, I didn’t think it was funny at all. I was embarrassed for Steve Jobs and the whole Apple team. I cringed.

NOT because of the name of the new product (personally, I think this whole hooha about feminine hygiene products is really, really stupid) and NOT because Mr. Jobs looks silly in that turtleneck with those bright white sneakers. (You’re a bazillionaire, Stevie, try a little bit harder. Even I could dress you better than that.)

My reaction was because, as this video points out, his talk was horrible. He used the same adjectives dozens of times. Maybe it didn’t sound AS bad when the sound bites were evenly dispersed – but I’m not so sure. Regardless, I think we can agree that this is just bad writing and it’s just bad speeching.

So, Reason 731 to use a copywriter? We write speeches, video spots, announcements. We craft your message so that you don’t sound like an idiot. We wordsmith your ideas so that people don’t make YouTube videos that mock you. We write good, so that you talk good…or something pithy like that. I dare say, old chap, we’re critical to your successful marketing and promotional experience.

In fact, good copywriters are awesome, amazing, great, magical and incredible…times 20 (just like Jobs said).

The writer’s dependency…can we cut the ties that bind us?

Poor is the man whose pleasures depend on the permission of another – Madonna

And here we are, eh? The freelancing community has a knack for getting tied up in knots, literally, in our dependency upon others. The strings that move our fingers over our keyboards, our deposits into the bank, the corners of our mouths up and down – they all lead to our clients. And the economy and the market and…you get the picture.

Writers depend on publishers, printers, readers, reviewers…did I mention publishers? I know, I know -  this is all changing. We have blogs, we have self-publishing, we have the Kindle. But still – is it really true? Can we be independent? Can our pleasure be found through our own permission?

It makes me have to ask the most basic question. Can you be a writer without readers? Yes, but you might just starve. I’d venture to say that we do need something. We need people.

Are we poor?

I can list many ways that we are rich, aka, independent:

• We set our own hours
• We choose our niche
• We handpick our clients
• We set our own fees
• We write our own blogs
• We write about what we want to write about
• We build great writer communities

But back to the question, ‘are we poor?’ I’m thinking this isn’t an either/or situation. It’s more like an every other minute, hour or day situation. Right? I mean, how often does your reply change? Because the above riches are still dependent on other people.

So what’s the answer?

If you’re attached to people that say no, people that don’t have a lot of money, people that don’t share your vision, people that think there’s only one way, people that are insecure, people that don’t challenge themselves or you – then, yep! You’ll be poor.

The answer, then, is to surround ourselves with the right people. The people with the energy, the insight, the capacity to take risks, that are secure enough to shout about you from their own rooftops, the people that want success for all – and are brilliant enough to see that your success is actually their success. The people who love life…and can’t wait for what’s next.

Find these people. If we can’t cut the ties that bind us – because our writing needs to be read – then take them and fasten yourself to objects that are moving FORWARD and UP. Just like you.

Image credit: Hollywood Celebrity Pictures

Butter versus Margarine

Ham versus SPAM (the ‘food’, not the unwanted emails). Cheddar versus Velveeta. Labradors versus Dachshunds. Mac versus Dell. (sorry, that one just slipped out)

Do you see where I’m going with this?

I just got an email from my good friend, Andi (who writes a great blog about French things and other awesome stuff). Long story short, she’d done something pretty amazing for me and I’d thanked her. And her response began with 4 words:

Friends help friends. Period.

It’s true. They do. But only the real ones. The ones that fall under the category of margarine, SPAM, Velveta and Dachshunds? Not so much. Those ‘friends’ flee in times of trouble. They’re not quite there for you. You can see them standing there, but it’s through a veil of fog. There’s something missing, there’s not much to hold on to.

So, how do you tell the difference?

It can be tricky. Because (besides the Lab/Dachshund example up there) looks can be deceiving. But once you get in there and get the feeling for what you’re holding in your hands, putting in your mouth or talking to, there’s really no contest. The real and the fake show themselves readily. It’s hard to hide the plasticy taste of Velveta. To tell the difference, you sense it. You see, hear, smell, taste and touch. And feel it in your gut.

I think our writing follows the same map.

As a writing coach, people talk to me a lot about trying to be genuine in their communications. Should they be serious or funny? Should they try to use words they would never say out loud in conversation? Should they follow the step by step ebook they found that says you should use ‘these 10 words in every post you write and it will make you millions’? (Um, eww)

My answer is this: how does it feel? When you’re writing? When you’re reading it back to yourself out loud? When you’re reading it to someone else? Does it fill you up or collapse in your mouth? Does it sound like you or does it sound like someone else? Are you proud of it? Is your very essence oozing out of it? Does it make you tingle?

Start with you. Ask yourself these questions – and answer honestly. If you do and you act on the answers, you will find your voice, you’ll hit your stride. Then think about your reader. Because, they’re asking these questions too. They’re looking for real writers, real messages, real connections.

I don’t know about you, but I spread my butter high and thick on my bread. I’m drawn to it like hotdogs to a BBQ. And when I see margarine on the page? Click. I close the tab.

Image credit: nanio

Racing up City blocks…

Last week, I went for one of the best runs I’ve ever, well, run. I was in Manhattan – and I just flew around the place. It was a mini-exploration that began when it was still dark outside and things were relatively quiet, and ended in winter’s muted daylight, the City in full motion.

I ran around cases of food being piled into restaurants and crowds of people pouring up and out of the subway. I saw a lot of dogs – some tragically wearing sweaters. I finally, and only, stopped because I had to shower and get to a meeting. I could have kept running all day.

Now, my mother will tell you that ‘order’ has never been my thing. She loves right angles and, you know, cleanly arranged things. I’m more of a believer in the chaos theory. It’s how I cook, it’s how I write this blog , it seems to be how I love – following the gut, the heart and some other good body parts.

But, when I’m running and when I’m writing for clients, I love order. I seek it out, I set it up. I love ticking off the neat little markers along the way. I think it was part of why that run was so damn good – the progress towards my destination of, say, 33rd street could be easily measured as I raced up the clearly numbered city blocks. I knew how far I’d to gone, I knew how far I had to go.

When I’m writing – especially a big project. I stake out points along the way like these city streets. By the chapter, by the page, by the section. Again, I know just how much I’ve accomplished and just how much I have left to do. And the best days of writing, like the best days of running, are the ones when ‘what’s left to do’ is never enough, when I never, ever want to stop.

Image credit: ShellyS

By the way, I guest posted on AngEngland’s blog today, writing about Knowing Your Value (and getting paid for it)…part of a series she’s doing on better blogging.