This morning's post comes from the "Do As I Say, Not As I Do" Desk.
I wish we could tie all the acronyms in the world in a bagful of rocks and throw it in the nearest river. But when I wrote about that a few weeks ago, I granted a reprieve to generally well-known acronyms, like FBI.
Of course, the definition of "generally well-known" depends on your audience. As I was reminded by a couple of loving "ahems" from two quite intelligent friends who have been paying close attention to my recent writing. And my increasing use of the term "C-Suite."
I could argue that C-Suite is an abbreviation, not an acronym. I'd win that argument, too. But the larger point is that not everyone understands what it means. "C-Suite" encompasses all those folks with "Chief" in their titles—Chief Financial Officer, Chief Information Officer, Chief Ethics & Compliance Officer. A business audience will understand it, but my friends have built careers outside of the corporate world. If you want to speak to a broader audience than that, you'd do well to avoid it.
I said "a business audience will understand it," but as I wrote those words I remembered that, in fact, when I first encountered the term it puzzled me. As has every piece of business jargon I've encountered in over 25 years of writing for the corporate world. The first time one of my Wall Street bosses praised a speech I'd written by saying, "You really added value here, Elaine," I had to suppress a giggle all the way back to my office. "Value" seemed a very odd way to describe creativity. But I digress.
In using the term "C-Suite" without explanation, I had fallen victim to what Chip and Dan Heath call (in their excellent book Made to Stick) the Curse of Knowledge—"the difficulty of remembering what it was like not to know something." I've built a career on not being "cursed" by too much knowledge of the business world. It's how I justified not pursuing an MBA years ago, when I write for so many people who have that degree. I figure my "value" to them is that I can recognize the difference between complex ideas and, you will pardon the expression, bullshit couched in complex language. The former I explain, the latter I call out.
Anyway, lesson learned. "C-Suite" will become, I guess, "leading executives." Excuse me, I've got to go rewrite my marketing materials now.
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
Getting to know you: Understanding "Authenticity"
Authenticity has been a huge buzzword in business for a while. As I read it, businesses mean that a gay employee should not have to hide his husband's in a desk drawer; a parent—of whatever gender—should not have to pretend that being at the kid's school play is less important than sitting in a meeting; an African American employee can wear her hair any damn way she pleases, even (especially) if it doesn't look like "white" hair.
Hiding one's true self requires an awful lot of effort, effort that most of us would much rather spend on—oh, I don't know—doing our work. And, yes, just about everyone "covers" some aspect of their personality, as this excellent research report by Deloitte made clear a few years ago. Even straight, white men—the folks that everyone but Beyoncé assumes "rule the world"—even half of them have something they cover. Imagine if we stopped expending energy in covering and just lived our lives.
"Authenticity" is starting to generate a backlash, though. And that makes me sad, both as a writer and as a human being. If you have never been in a position where you felt you had to hide some part of who you are, you are very lucky indeed. Federal law now recognizes my marriage, but in more than half the states in the U.S. an employer could fire me for putting my wife's photo on my desk. So authenticity means a lot to me as a person.
And as a writer and writing coach, I know the most effective way for my clients to connect with the audiences they want to reach is to allow themselves to be seen as human. By which I mean vulnerable (so they can demonstrate their strength) and occasionally fallible (so they can show how failure enabled their later successes). As the cliché goes, nobody's perfect. Audiences want to feel that.
And whether it's a speech or a written piece, audiences also want to connect with your real personality. Are you introspective? Let us in on your thought process. Are you funny? Don't be afraid to make a joke. I'm not saying to turn your presentation into a Robin Williams-style free-association free-for-all. But laughter is a great gift to give people, and there's no quicker way to create a bond between you and the people reading your words or listening to you speak.
What does authenticity NOT mean? It does not mean saying the first thing that pops into our heads. It does not give people a license to be publicly rude or sexist, as this op-ed from The New York Times implies.
But what if I am authentically rude or sexist? I hear you ask. Then the norms of polite society—and corporate culture, which tends to enforce its norms more forcefully—will soon put you in your place. And I hope you enjoy it.
Brené Brown posted a rejoinder to the Times op-ed on LinkedIn this weekend and restated her complex definition of authenticity. Have a read:
Hiding one's true self requires an awful lot of effort, effort that most of us would much rather spend on—oh, I don't know—doing our work. And, yes, just about everyone "covers" some aspect of their personality, as this excellent research report by Deloitte made clear a few years ago. Even straight, white men—the folks that everyone but Beyoncé assumes "rule the world"—even half of them have something they cover. Imagine if we stopped expending energy in covering and just lived our lives.
"Authenticity" is starting to generate a backlash, though. And that makes me sad, both as a writer and as a human being. If you have never been in a position where you felt you had to hide some part of who you are, you are very lucky indeed. Federal law now recognizes my marriage, but in more than half the states in the U.S. an employer could fire me for putting my wife's photo on my desk. So authenticity means a lot to me as a person.
And as a writer and writing coach, I know the most effective way for my clients to connect with the audiences they want to reach is to allow themselves to be seen as human. By which I mean vulnerable (so they can demonstrate their strength) and occasionally fallible (so they can show how failure enabled their later successes). As the cliché goes, nobody's perfect. Audiences want to feel that.
And whether it's a speech or a written piece, audiences also want to connect with your real personality. Are you introspective? Let us in on your thought process. Are you funny? Don't be afraid to make a joke. I'm not saying to turn your presentation into a Robin Williams-style free-association free-for-all. But laughter is a great gift to give people, and there's no quicker way to create a bond between you and the people reading your words or listening to you speak.
What does authenticity NOT mean? It does not mean saying the first thing that pops into our heads. It does not give people a license to be publicly rude or sexist, as this op-ed from The New York Times implies.
But what if I am authentically rude or sexist? I hear you ask. Then the norms of polite society—and corporate culture, which tends to enforce its norms more forcefully—will soon put you in your place. And I hope you enjoy it.
Brené Brown posted a rejoinder to the Times op-ed on LinkedIn this weekend and restated her complex definition of authenticity. Have a read:
"The core of authenticity is the courage to be imperfect, vulnerable, and to set boundaries."That's who I want to be. That's who I want my clients to be. How about you?
Friday, June 3, 2016
Too good to lose, not good enough to win
Seven hits and more than a dozen walks. The Mets had 20 men on base in Wednesday afternoon's game—and scored exactly one run. The White Sox tied it up in the eighth, and the frustration continued for five more innings as I thought about the air conditioning back in my office. The Mets were not bad enough to lose, but not quite good enough to win, either.
Business writing is often like that. And as a writer—and as an audience member—it drives me crazy. I'm not saying our clients need to swing for the fences every time. Not every utterance needs to be provocative or world-changing. But so often, they fear anything that strays from the mom-and-apple-pie norm.
Talk about your successes, yes—but be honest about your struggles, too. Because overcoming those struggles put you in the position to achieve those successes. When you have the opportunity to reach an audience, whether through a speech or in writing, use that opportunity to say something. Fill the empty space with something worth your audience's while. Be good enough to win.
Sometimes that requires taking a risk. But that's the only way to get the reward.
As for the game, well the White Sox play in the American League, where designated hitters bat in place of the pitchers. But by the 13th inning yesterday, the Sox were out of options so they sent their relief pitcher to the plate. He's only stood in the batter's box three times in his entire career. Risk? You bet.
The guy hit a double—I can still hear the crack of the ball on his bat. A couple plays later, he scored the winning run. [Sigh.] Risk often leads to reward. I wish the Mets had thought of that.
Business writing is often like that. And as a writer—and as an audience member—it drives me crazy. I'm not saying our clients need to swing for the fences every time. Not every utterance needs to be provocative or world-changing. But so often, they fear anything that strays from the mom-and-apple-pie norm.
Talk about your successes, yes—but be honest about your struggles, too. Because overcoming those struggles put you in the position to achieve those successes. When you have the opportunity to reach an audience, whether through a speech or in writing, use that opportunity to say something. Fill the empty space with something worth your audience's while. Be good enough to win.
Sometimes that requires taking a risk. But that's the only way to get the reward.
As for the game, well the White Sox play in the American League, where designated hitters bat in place of the pitchers. But by the 13th inning yesterday, the Sox were out of options so they sent their relief pitcher to the plate. He's only stood in the batter's box three times in his entire career. Risk? You bet.
The guy hit a double—I can still hear the crack of the ball on his bat. A couple plays later, he scored the winning run. [Sigh.] Risk often leads to reward. I wish the Mets had thought of that.
Friday, May 27, 2016
The love of bad ideas
Good ideas don't spring to life fully formed like Athena from the head of Zeus. They slip into the world incognito, often disguised as bad ideas.
Being afraid of having a bad idea is the surest way to shut off the flow of ideas altogether. So I welcome them.
I learned this lesson very early in my career. The Berlin Wall had fallen, Eastern European countries were exploring democracy and capitalism, and my guy had to speak about it. Every day, it seemed, saw the birth of a new nation. Aha!
"Birth is messy and bloody," I wrote. Then my fingers froze in midair. What are you thinking? (I thought.) This guy is a big, macho Wall Street exec. You're going to give him a placenta metaphor?
Ixnay on the placenta metaphor. But then what?
I stared at my computer. I stared at the walls of my cubicle. I squeezed my eyes shut real hard and snapped them open again. Nothing. Every thought in my head—every thought I would ever think for the rest of my life, apparently—was just a variation on that one, highly inappropriate, placenta metaphor.
So I gave in. I wrote the thing. I embellished it, added some (you should pardon the expression) color. I made it the placenta-iest paragraph anyone could ever imagine. Even a midwife would have said, "Enough, already!"
I printed out what I wrote and hung in on the wall in front of me. Having captured it for posterity (and my own continuing amusement in the months ahead), I deleted it from my computer.
And, whaddaya know? Getting the bad idea out of my head made room for good ones. The speech turned out just fine.
So if you can't get something out of your mind...get it out of your head. Post it or stash it in an "I Can't Believe I Tried to Write That" file. Share it with your friends over drinks. Just don't share it with your boss.
Speaking of bad ideas, here's the first title I came up with for this post:
Being afraid of having a bad idea is the surest way to shut off the flow of ideas altogether. So I welcome them.
I learned this lesson very early in my career. The Berlin Wall had fallen, Eastern European countries were exploring democracy and capitalism, and my guy had to speak about it. Every day, it seemed, saw the birth of a new nation. Aha!
"Birth is messy and bloody," I wrote. Then my fingers froze in midair. What are you thinking? (I thought.) This guy is a big, macho Wall Street exec. You're going to give him a placenta metaphor?
Ixnay on the placenta metaphor. But then what?
I stared at my computer. I stared at the walls of my cubicle. I squeezed my eyes shut real hard and snapped them open again. Nothing. Every thought in my head—every thought I would ever think for the rest of my life, apparently—was just a variation on that one, highly inappropriate, placenta metaphor.
So I gave in. I wrote the thing. I embellished it, added some (you should pardon the expression) color. I made it the placenta-iest paragraph anyone could ever imagine. Even a midwife would have said, "Enough, already!"
I printed out what I wrote and hung in on the wall in front of me. Having captured it for posterity (and my own continuing amusement in the months ahead), I deleted it from my computer.
And, whaddaya know? Getting the bad idea out of my head made room for good ones. The speech turned out just fine.
So if you can't get something out of your mind...get it out of your head. Post it or stash it in an "I Can't Believe I Tried to Write That" file. Share it with your friends over drinks. Just don't share it with your boss.
Speaking of bad ideas, here's the first title I came up with for this post:
You can learn a lot from a placenta
Friday, May 20, 2016
"You don't think like us."
"We love talking to you," my anchor client told me yesterday. "Because you don't think like us and you don't talk like us."
There's nothing wrong with them; it's not like their company's culture turns them into robots. But they find it refreshing to have access to an outsider's perspective.
That's what I pride myself on delivering. It's the promise implicit in the name of this blog, which I took from a New York Times headline: "For the clearest view, use someone else's eye."
As for me, I'm always on the lookout for people who see things differently. Like the person behind this photo I found on Facebook, a British comedian named Phil Lucas. Does the artwork exist? It hardly matters; the sign alone is brilliant.
It's easy to find people who think the way you do. Seek out the ones who think differently; your life and work will be richer for it.
-->
There's nothing wrong with them; it's not like their company's culture turns them into robots. But they find it refreshing to have access to an outsider's perspective.
That's what I pride myself on delivering. It's the promise implicit in the name of this blog, which I took from a New York Times headline: "For the clearest view, use someone else's eye."
As for me, I'm always on the lookout for people who see things differently. Like the person behind this photo I found on Facebook, a British comedian named Phil Lucas. Does the artwork exist? It hardly matters; the sign alone is brilliant.
It's easy to find people who think the way you do. Seek out the ones who think differently; your life and work will be richer for it.
-->
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Write as if it's going to be read
Someone famously said there are two things no one should see being made: laws and sausages.
I would add a third item to that list—corporate reports: year-end round-ups, annual reports, board reports. Writing expected to embody an enterprise-wide viewpoint can generally be counted on to say too much about everything and not nearly enough about something—any one thing that sums up the organization's purpose or goal. These mega-reports are never written as much as they are extruded like the aforementioned sausages—information mashed together without an overarching message and expelled into the required format.
As an expert advisor to nonprofits, my friend Joan Garry has read (or struggled to read) her fair share of these things. She summed up her advice in this blog post. Joan advises carefully crafting the Executive Director's report as if it's the only part of the tome that will be read.
And if you want to keep your readers turning the pages after they finish the ED's report, I suggest you open each subsequent section with a story that captures the real-world impact of the organization's work. Nonprofits probably have an easier time finding stories that tug at the heartstrings, but every organization can find compelling stories of people who went above and beyond, grateful clients, lives positively impacted.
Tell those stories and your readers will stick around to the very last page.
I would add a third item to that list—corporate reports: year-end round-ups, annual reports, board reports. Writing expected to embody an enterprise-wide viewpoint can generally be counted on to say too much about everything and not nearly enough about something—any one thing that sums up the organization's purpose or goal. These mega-reports are never written as much as they are extruded like the aforementioned sausages—information mashed together without an overarching message and expelled into the required format.
As an expert advisor to nonprofits, my friend Joan Garry has read (or struggled to read) her fair share of these things. She summed up her advice in this blog post. Joan advises carefully crafting the Executive Director's report as if it's the only part of the tome that will be read.
And if you want to keep your readers turning the pages after they finish the ED's report, I suggest you open each subsequent section with a story that captures the real-world impact of the organization's work. Nonprofits probably have an easier time finding stories that tug at the heartstrings, but every organization can find compelling stories of people who went above and beyond, grateful clients, lives positively impacted.
Tell those stories and your readers will stick around to the very last page.
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
TED talking
TED Talks have made speeches chic again. (Hallelujah!) Everyone who doesn't dream of giving one dreams of writing one.
Yep, we're all eager to climb on the internet-enabled soapbox. But what do we do once we get there?
Chris Anderson, Curator of TED, reminds us that it's not about the platform; it's about the content:
"Your number one mission as a speaker is to take something that matters deeply to you and rebuild it inside the minds of your listeners. The only thing that truly matters in public speaking is not confidence, stage presence or smooth talking. It’s having something worth saying."I love the idea that our words can "rebuild" an idea in our listeners' minds. The image is specific, visual, and powerful. It's a little intimidating too. And it should be, I think.
Words have consequences—well-crafted and well-delivered speeches may have even more power than written words. They build new structures in our brains, create neural pathways that weren't there before. Will you fill those pathways with corporate jargon and techno-babble? Or with new ways to problem-solve, new insights and ideas to contemplate?
It's not about giving a TED Talk. Wherever you speak, however you communicate: It's about having something to say.
Saturday, May 14, 2016
Do-Be-Do-Be-Do
When you think of James Bond, what comes to mind? Buildings blowing up, cars flying through village markets, bad guys brandishing automatic weapons. And in the quieter moments, bespoke tuxedos; luxury automobiles; beautiful, objectified women.
James Bond or Jason Bourne, if you prefer; Hollywood has certainly given us many of their ilk to choose from—they do things. We call them "action heroes," after all, not "being heroes."
It's so easy for us to get stuck in be:
(If you'd like to be better-armed in the fight against passive verbs, I'd be happy to send you a lesson I put together.)
James Bond or Jason Bourne, if you prefer; Hollywood has certainly given us many of their ilk to choose from—they do things. We call them "action heroes," after all, not "being heroes."
It's so easy for us to get stuck in be:
"I want to be a writer."Yes, well, writers don't have a lot in common with action heroes, other than creating them. How can we turn this statement into an action?
- "I want to type furiously."
- "I want to endlessly contemplate a blank computer screen."
- "I want to spend so long hunched over my laptop in a coffee shop that the smell of roasting coffee becomes permanently embedded in my nostrils."
(If you'd like to be better-armed in the fight against passive verbs, I'd be happy to send you a lesson I put together.)
Friday, May 13, 2016
Change-Making & Writing: Seth Speaks (on The Tim Ferriss Show), 3 of 3
"There's nothing wrong with being a wandering generality instead of a meaningful specific. But don't expect to make the change you seek to make if that's what you do."—Seth GodinHow easy is it to fall into "wandering generality" mode? Say yes to something that's not your core mission, and you're lost. In his conversation with Tim Ferriss, Seth Godin notes that "most people play the cards they got instead of moving to a different table with different cards." (25:00) We all have the power to move to a different table, change the game, but so few of us do.
Godin identifies two types of entrepreneurs: Those who get up in the morning and ask "whose needs am I satisfying today?" and those who focus on changing people. The businesses that change people are the ones that get remembered. (46:00). His advice to job-seekers: Ask "Is there an entity that won't be able to live with out you?" and if the answer is no, start your own. "If you wait for someone to pick you, you will be consistently undervalued. (1:37:00)
Writing
Tim Ferriss asks about his writing process, Godin responds with the story of Stephen King's pencil. (35:17). It's one of those meaningless distractions we create for ourselves—thinking if I knew the equipment Stephen King used, I could write as well as he does. Godin points out that "ritual is a way to hide" and the only way to become a better writer is to "write poorly. Write until it's not bad anymore." (37:00) Godin calls blogging daily "one of my top five career decisions" because "it's a practice that leaves a trail. (31:00). In fact, he thinks everyone should blog daily. (1:01:00)
The podcast wraps up with Godin's advice in an imaginary commencement speech: "You are more powerful than you think you are. Act accordingly." (1:54:20) I love that quotation so much, I created a poster of it for my office. Happy to share it with you, just click here.
And don't miss part 1 on Failing and Creating and part 2 on Not Writing.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Failing & Creating: Seth Speaks (on The Tim Ferriss Show) 1 of 3
I spend a lot of time driving these days, which means I'm constantly on the lookout for great new podcasts to listen to. The Tim Ferriss Show has quickly made it to the top of my list, and at the top of that "top of the list" is his interview with Seth Godin.
There's so much in this marathon conversation that before I'd even finished listening, I knew I'd have to listen again. And take notes.
The interview bounced around from topic to topic and circled back several times. I organized these notes into the three categories that resonated most with me: Failing and Creating, Not Writing, and Change-Making and Writing. Have a listen for yourself, though, and you'll probably find five other topics I could have included in these notes.
Failing and Creating
When you're creating something entirely new, there's no benchmark; you can't quantify the thing you're doing. But these are the most important things to try: "Our soul is filled by the things that have never been done." (59:00)
And of course it's scary. People always feel fear, and that fear never goes away (50:00). But he offers good news from a Buddhist philosopher: "We are falling with nothing to hold onto and nothing to slow us down. The good news is, there's no ground to land on." (1:20:00-ish)
"Clear the decks so all that's left is you and the muse—you and the fear, you and the change you want to make in the world." (59:00)
Check back tomorrow for "Not Writing."
There's so much in this marathon conversation that before I'd even finished listening, I knew I'd have to listen again. And take notes.
The interview bounced around from topic to topic and circled back several times. I organized these notes into the three categories that resonated most with me: Failing and Creating, Not Writing, and Change-Making and Writing. Have a listen for yourself, though, and you'll probably find five other topics I could have included in these notes.
Failing and Creating
"My job is to do something that might not work." —Seth GodinGodin doesn't present this statement as an elevator speech (29:10), but I can't wait to try it out in that context. He says he's prouder of his failures than his successes, because at least they demonstrated that he tried. His goal isn't to get good ideas; it's to get bad ones. Because once you get those, some good ideas will turn up in their midst. (37:00-ish)
When you're creating something entirely new, there's no benchmark; you can't quantify the thing you're doing. But these are the most important things to try: "Our soul is filled by the things that have never been done." (59:00)
And of course it's scary. People always feel fear, and that fear never goes away (50:00). But he offers good news from a Buddhist philosopher: "We are falling with nothing to hold onto and nothing to slow us down. The good news is, there's no ground to land on." (1:20:00-ish)
"Clear the decks so all that's left is you and the muse—you and the fear, you and the change you want to make in the world." (59:00)
Check back tomorrow for "Not Writing."
Friday, May 6, 2016
Why am I not a stand-up comic?
I'm a big fan of humor. I always look for opportunities to work it into the pieces I write for my business clients. I learned the power of humor at an early age, from my father.
"When you're writing a letter to complain about something, always make it funny," he said. My father was an insurance claims adjuster, so he definitely received his fair share of angry letters. Humor was key, he said, using the Mad Men pronouns of the time, "Because when you make someone laugh, he'll pass your letter around the office. Everyone will read it and they'll all want to help you."
I've often wondered why that advice didn't turn me into a stand-up comedian instead of a business writer. Decades passed before I realized that of course it's business advice. Because it's not about simply amusing people. It's about making them remember you. It's about inciting them to take action.
And that’s the key to every good piece of business writing,
probably since the invention of papyrus. Whether it’s a team report delivered
to a dozen people or an op-ed in a publication that reaches millions, you want
to engage your readers or listeners so much that they can’t help but take
action.
Monday, May 2, 2016
Funny/Not Funny
Whatever your political leanings, I think it's safe to say that this year's campaign is bringing us humor where we don't expect it and some truly un-funny moments when we're primed to laugh.
When the people who want to be president start sounding more like insult comics, can we trust them to govern the nation or will they simply begin a four-year term as Roastmaster-in-Chief?
That,
my friends, is great political comedy. While the line might be perfectly at home at a Roast (that is, essentially, one function political conventions serve), it also gets the listener to think about, and laugh about, serious qualities that matter in a president. We want our presidents to understand how the "little people" live. And we want them to be able to communicate in meaningful ways.
When you're crafting a joke, especially in the business world, look at it from every angle. Make sure it's substantive as well as funny. Shows the author or speaker in a good light, and is funny. And if it's for a speech, rehearse the speaker to make sure the funny shines through.
I'll talk more about humor and business in my next post.
When the people who want to be president start sounding more like insult comics, can we trust them to govern the nation or will they simply begin a four-year term as Roastmaster-in-Chief?
I can't help but compare this year's crop of
political laugh lines to the most famous one to emerge from the 1988
contest—when George H.W. Bush wanted to upgrade from the Vice
Presidency. (Spoiler alert: he did.) At the Democratic convention that
summer, Texas Governor Ann Richards combined two charges against Bush—that he was elitist and a poor communicator—into one memorable zinger. (Watch it here.)
When you're crafting a joke, especially in the business world, look at it from every angle. Make sure it's substantive as well as funny. Shows the author or speaker in a good light, and is funny. And if it's for a speech, rehearse the speaker to make sure the funny shines through.
I'll talk more about humor and business in my next post.
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Occasional Flashes of Brilliance
I've been in business for myself a long time. And maybe two or three times a year, a thought crosses my mind: "I really should start a newsletter."
Yep, I agree with myself, I really should.
And then I don't.
Today I finally realized why: I don't want to.
And why would I? "Newsletters" are boring; I am (mostly, I hope) not. I rarely read the newsletters that do make it into my in-box. It feels like a chore, and the last thing any of us need is another chore.
But I do have value I can add for people who want to know more about the creative process or improve their own writing. Ideas, tips, a good article or interesting blog post. So I will be sending out "Occasional Flashes of Brilliance." If you'd like to receive them, fill out the sign-up form on the left.
And if you have something in particular you'd like me to talk about, let me know.
Let's be occasionally brilliant together.
Yep, I agree with myself, I really should.
And then I don't.
Today I finally realized why: I don't want to.
And why would I? "Newsletters" are boring; I am (mostly, I hope) not. I rarely read the newsletters that do make it into my in-box. It feels like a chore, and the last thing any of us need is another chore.
But I do have value I can add for people who want to know more about the creative process or improve their own writing. Ideas, tips, a good article or interesting blog post. So I will be sending out "Occasional Flashes of Brilliance." If you'd like to receive them, fill out the sign-up form on the left.
And if you have something in particular you'd like me to talk about, let me know.
Let's be occasionally brilliant together.
Friday, December 11, 2015
Quote-Unquote
I recently came across this post on "How to Use Quote in Your Speech." I'm assuming you don't need convincing about the benefits of using quotations—if you do, check out an earlier post of mine on the subject. I agree with a lot of what this writer says, but of course I have my own opinions too. Hope you find these helpful:
1. Make sure you get the phrasing correct.
Absolutely. But if you present the quotation as a piece of wisdom you've carried with you for years, don't read it from your notes. I once watched in horror—on live TV, no less—when my client spoke about something Abraham Lincoln said as the guiding principle of his life. And then he looked down at his notes. Guiding principles live in your hearts, people, not on paper. I knew right then he was sunk.
3. Beware quoting out-of-context.
I once saw a Bible-Quote-of-the-Day calendar with a little gem that went something like "Worship me and all the riches of the earth will be yours." (I'm paraphrasing.) Problem: That wasn't God talking in the Bible story; it was Satan. So yes, check the source. And check the backstory too. That Chinese saying "May you live in interesting times" had a big resurgence after the financial crisis hit in 2007. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant as a blessing—it's a curse.
4. Quote a well-known expert in the field.
Yes...and no. The writer says "Quote Aristotle on philosophy or Serena Williams on tennis—doing the opposite gets you in trouble." But if you are not credible quoting Aristotle, you'll only seem like a fraud. Much better to quote something philosophical that Serena Williams said—especially if you're speaking to tennis fans. I've blogged about this before, here.
17. Quotation compilations keep quotes within arm’s reach.
The writer recommends Bartlett's Familiar Quotations. It's the first place everyone turns when they're looking for a quotation—and that's exactly why you want to avoid it. I also do my best to avoid Online quotation search engines—his tip #19—for the same reason. The surest way to find something fresh to quote is to keep your own quote file, making note of interesting and inspiring things you read.
1. Make sure you get the phrasing correct.
Absolutely. But if you present the quotation as a piece of wisdom you've carried with you for years, don't read it from your notes. I once watched in horror—on live TV, no less—when my client spoke about something Abraham Lincoln said as the guiding principle of his life. And then he looked down at his notes. Guiding principles live in your hearts, people, not on paper. I knew right then he was sunk.
3. Beware quoting out-of-context.
I once saw a Bible-Quote-of-the-Day calendar with a little gem that went something like "Worship me and all the riches of the earth will be yours." (I'm paraphrasing.) Problem: That wasn't God talking in the Bible story; it was Satan. So yes, check the source. And check the backstory too. That Chinese saying "May you live in interesting times" had a big resurgence after the financial crisis hit in 2007. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant as a blessing—it's a curse.
4. Quote a well-known expert in the field.
Yes...and no. The writer says "Quote Aristotle on philosophy or Serena Williams on tennis—doing the opposite gets you in trouble." But if you are not credible quoting Aristotle, you'll only seem like a fraud. Much better to quote something philosophical that Serena Williams said—especially if you're speaking to tennis fans. I've blogged about this before, here.
17. Quotation compilations keep quotes within arm’s reach.
The writer recommends Bartlett's Familiar Quotations. It's the first place everyone turns when they're looking for a quotation—and that's exactly why you want to avoid it. I also do my best to avoid Online quotation search engines—his tip #19—for the same reason. The surest way to find something fresh to quote is to keep your own quote file, making note of interesting and inspiring things you read.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
My granddaddy, Socrates
When pop culture meets, well, culture culture the results can be unintentionally hilarious.
Jennifer Lopez plays a high school teacher in her latest movie, The Boy Next Door. At one point, the hunk of the title brings her a gift: A leatherbound book with gilt-edged pages - a volume that would have been right at home in Queen Victoria's library. J-Lo demurs that she can't accept such an expensive gift. "This is a first edition!" she says, checking inside.
One small problem. The book is very clearly marked "The Iliad by Homer."
See it for yourself here (you'll have to sit through a 30-second ad, but trust me it's worth it.)
Apologies if I've spoiled The Boy Next Door for you, but I don't really think there's a lot of overlap between my readership and J-Lo's target demographic. Likewise probably not a lot of overlap between her viewership and classical scholars. What percentage of Americans even know that there was a famous Homer before The Simpsons?
While the dumbing-down of popular culture may spell the end of Civilization As We Know It, there's an equally challenging trend I need to watch out for as a business writer: "smartening-up." (Click to Tweet.)
The first time I was asked to write on the subject of Ethics, I went straight to the source: Aristotle. I mean, who better than "the father of Ethics"? Now, I'm no dummy - the speech wasn't entirely about ancient Greek philosophy. I tied Aristotle to a contemporary event, in which journalism students had gotten caught cheating on an exam. And not just any exam...an Ethics exam.
It was a great speech. But it was not a great speech for that particular speaker. And in the end, that's really all that matters. So I gave Aristotle the heave-ho in favor of material that better fit my executive's brand. And the world became a more ethical place, at least for an hour.
LBJ knew this stuff innately. Maybe not Ethics, but brand-building. When his writers showed him a draft that used some words of wisdom from Socrates, he didn't cut the quotation - the sentiment was too good. He just crossed out "Socrates" and substituted "my granddaddy."
President Johnson was a smart man. He just didn't want too many people to know it.
Jennifer Lopez plays a high school teacher in her latest movie, The Boy Next Door. At one point, the hunk of the title brings her a gift: A leatherbound book with gilt-edged pages - a volume that would have been right at home in Queen Victoria's library. J-Lo demurs that she can't accept such an expensive gift. "This is a first edition!" she says, checking inside.
One small problem. The book is very clearly marked "The Iliad by Homer."
See it for yourself here (you'll have to sit through a 30-second ad, but trust me it's worth it.)
Apologies if I've spoiled The Boy Next Door for you, but I don't really think there's a lot of overlap between my readership and J-Lo's target demographic. Likewise probably not a lot of overlap between her viewership and classical scholars. What percentage of Americans even know that there was a famous Homer before The Simpsons?
While the dumbing-down of popular culture may spell the end of Civilization As We Know It, there's an equally challenging trend I need to watch out for as a business writer: "smartening-up." (Click to Tweet.)
The first time I was asked to write on the subject of Ethics, I went straight to the source: Aristotle. I mean, who better than "the father of Ethics"? Now, I'm no dummy - the speech wasn't entirely about ancient Greek philosophy. I tied Aristotle to a contemporary event, in which journalism students had gotten caught cheating on an exam. And not just any exam...an Ethics exam.
It was a great speech. But it was not a great speech for that particular speaker. And in the end, that's really all that matters. So I gave Aristotle the heave-ho in favor of material that better fit my executive's brand. And the world became a more ethical place, at least for an hour.
LBJ knew this stuff innately. Maybe not Ethics, but brand-building. When his writers showed him a draft that used some words of wisdom from Socrates, he didn't cut the quotation - the sentiment was too good. He just crossed out "Socrates" and substituted "my granddaddy."
President Johnson was a smart man. He just didn't want too many people to know it.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Is the client always right?
When you're shopping for a new outfit and shriek "I love it!" the salesclerk in the Dress Department will process your credit card with a smile, even though the dress makes you look like a sequin-spangled sausage. The customer is always right.
But what about the client? Not in my experience. And I see it as an integral part of my job to tell them that - in a kind, supportive way - when necessary.
I am more than a salesclerk in the Word Department. I want my clients to show themselves in their best light, whether they're giving a speech or publishing something under their byline. Unfortunately, sometimes that means I have to disagree, or correct, or - here's the right word: Advise.
I learned that lesson early on in my career as a speechwriter. I sat in the executive's inner sanctum with my team, listening to the client speak the words I had written. (It's always a thrill.) When the client got to the end of the speech he looked at me and said, "What? Do you get paid by the word?" (Of course not!) He said, "There's too many words in here." And he proceeded to read the opening paragraphs again, taking out the verbs. Obviously, it made no sense. Equally obviously, the speaker had no idea he was making no sense. But how do you teach a grown man about grammar? I took the speech back from him: "I'll fix it for you." The speech he ultimately delivered had shorter sentences and fewer adjectives. But every sentence had a verb. The client is not always right.
One day, another client called to give me an assignment. He wanted to write a piece about something that had generated bad press for him, to explain why the critics had been wrong and he had been right. The event had happened years earlier and been forgotten by just about everyone...except my client. The assignment would have generated a nice fee for me, but I couldn't see any upside for him. I told him I thought he was making a mistake and I wouldn't help him do it. It hurt - I could have used the money at the time. Even when the client isn't right, I need to be. (Click to tweet.)
So when clients hire me, they get my advice as well as my words. They may not always make what I think is the right choice - in the end, it's their decision. But I'll always do my best to steer them away from the sequins.
But what about the client? Not in my experience. And I see it as an integral part of my job to tell them that - in a kind, supportive way - when necessary.
I am more than a salesclerk in the Word Department. I want my clients to show themselves in their best light, whether they're giving a speech or publishing something under their byline. Unfortunately, sometimes that means I have to disagree, or correct, or - here's the right word: Advise.
I learned that lesson early on in my career as a speechwriter. I sat in the executive's inner sanctum with my team, listening to the client speak the words I had written. (It's always a thrill.) When the client got to the end of the speech he looked at me and said, "What? Do you get paid by the word?" (Of course not!) He said, "There's too many words in here." And he proceeded to read the opening paragraphs again, taking out the verbs. Obviously, it made no sense. Equally obviously, the speaker had no idea he was making no sense. But how do you teach a grown man about grammar? I took the speech back from him: "I'll fix it for you." The speech he ultimately delivered had shorter sentences and fewer adjectives. But every sentence had a verb. The client is not always right.
One day, another client called to give me an assignment. He wanted to write a piece about something that had generated bad press for him, to explain why the critics had been wrong and he had been right. The event had happened years earlier and been forgotten by just about everyone...except my client. The assignment would have generated a nice fee for me, but I couldn't see any upside for him. I told him I thought he was making a mistake and I wouldn't help him do it. It hurt - I could have used the money at the time. Even when the client isn't right, I need to be. (Click to tweet.)
So when clients hire me, they get my advice as well as my words. They may not always make what I think is the right choice - in the end, it's their decision. But I'll always do my best to steer them away from the sequins.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Tick, tick
I've been doing a lot of waiting lately.
Not just waiting for that "epic, historic" storm event we were promised today. It may have been that elsewhere, but not where I am. Too bad, too, because I had a great name for it: Blizznado 2015.
No, I've also been waiting for work. Got two potentially epic and historic events of my own in the offing. One is a writing gig, a long-form project the likes of which I've never done before - but I'm confident I could ace. I've already written a sample chapter (that was Round 1 in the bake-off) and edited it (Round 2). Last I heard I was one of the front-runners. But they haven't reached a decision yet. Tick, tick.
The other is a more creative and even potentially lucrative job (and when was the last time you ever read the words "creative" and "lucrative" in the same sentence?) that would transport me out of the land of Blizznadoes and into a sunnier clime for an entire week. That week is only a week (or possibly two) away, but the clients have yet to make up their minds. Tick, tick.
Now it occurs to me that these jobs have something in common with Blizznado. They all require me to wait. I can't make the clients decide any more than I can force the snow to fall. Or not to fall, depending on your preference. (I like snow - but then I don't have to shovel it.)
Where the jobs and the storm differ is that the jobs would keep me extraordinarily busy; the blizzard allows me to relax. (See above.) So I'm trying to embrace the downtime I have now; in a couple of months it could be in short supply.
One of the first things I ever heard about freelancing - years before I thought of doing it myself - is that when you have the time to relax, you don't have the money and when you have the money you don't have the time. That will certainly be true if either (or both! please, both!) of those jobs comes through.
In the meantime, I'm working on "letting go." And breathing - a lot of deep breathing - every time my mind thinks Tick, tick.
Not just waiting for that "epic, historic" storm event we were promised today. It may have been that elsewhere, but not where I am. Too bad, too, because I had a great name for it: Blizznado 2015.
No, I've also been waiting for work. Got two potentially epic and historic events of my own in the offing. One is a writing gig, a long-form project the likes of which I've never done before - but I'm confident I could ace. I've already written a sample chapter (that was Round 1 in the bake-off) and edited it (Round 2). Last I heard I was one of the front-runners. But they haven't reached a decision yet. Tick, tick.
The other is a more creative and even potentially lucrative job (and when was the last time you ever read the words "creative" and "lucrative" in the same sentence?) that would transport me out of the land of Blizznadoes and into a sunnier clime for an entire week. That week is only a week (or possibly two) away, but the clients have yet to make up their minds. Tick, tick.
Now it occurs to me that these jobs have something in common with Blizznado. They all require me to wait. I can't make the clients decide any more than I can force the snow to fall. Or not to fall, depending on your preference. (I like snow - but then I don't have to shovel it.)
Where the jobs and the storm differ is that the jobs would keep me extraordinarily busy; the blizzard allows me to relax. (See above.) So I'm trying to embrace the downtime I have now; in a couple of months it could be in short supply.
One of the first things I ever heard about freelancing - years before I thought of doing it myself - is that when you have the time to relax, you don't have the money and when you have the money you don't have the time. That will certainly be true if either (or both! please, both!) of those jobs comes through.
In the meantime, I'm working on "letting go." And breathing - a lot of deep breathing - every time my mind thinks Tick, tick.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Ship Happens
Today the #YourTurnChallenge asks me to think about something I do well...and then teach my readers how to do it.
One thing I do well is, in Godin-speak, Ship.
Well, yes and no. Yes, I am a first-rate shipper when it comes to others: In decades of writing for clients, I have never missed a deadline.
But when it comes to my own work...not so much. I could pretend otherwise, but a quick look at the dates of previous blog posts would give me away very quickly.
Even though it's something I do well only sometimes, I'm going to write about shipping. Perhaps the excellent shipper-for-clients can teach something to the inconsistent shipper-for-myself. And you're welcome to read along, too.
I feel a sense of responsibility to my clients.
My clients have deadlines - If they've accepted an invitation to give a speech on a specific date and time, I need to ship that speech at least a week earlier.
My clients have goals - they trust that I will send them to the podium with something compelling and memorable to say.
Well, it doesn't take a genius to see where this is going. I unfailingly meet my clients' deadlines, yet I rarely set deadlines for myself. I deliver on my clients' goals; I rarely articulate my own. I feel a sense of responsibility to my clients because they are paying the bills. But my own work - like blogging, to build a wider pool of potential clients - that waits until I have "something to say."
I'm only halfway through this weeklong blogging challenge (let's hear it for Day 4!) and it's clear to me that if I need to write, I will find something to say. "Need," for me (I'm learning) requires a commitment. And while I'm great at making and keeping commitments to my clients, I have a pretty woeful track record of doing so for myself. Yes, "Ship" happens. But only when I make it happen.
So here's a commitment: I will blog at least twice a week. And finally get my monthly newsletter going. Sign up for it in the box to the left.
Ship, ship, hooray!
One thing I do well is, in Godin-speak, Ship.
Well, yes and no. Yes, I am a first-rate shipper when it comes to others: In decades of writing for clients, I have never missed a deadline.
But when it comes to my own work...not so much. I could pretend otherwise, but a quick look at the dates of previous blog posts would give me away very quickly.
Even though it's something I do well only sometimes, I'm going to write about shipping. Perhaps the excellent shipper-for-clients can teach something to the inconsistent shipper-for-myself. And you're welcome to read along, too.
I feel a sense of responsibility to my clients.
My clients have deadlines - If they've accepted an invitation to give a speech on a specific date and time, I need to ship that speech at least a week earlier.
My clients have goals - they trust that I will send them to the podium with something compelling and memorable to say.
Well, it doesn't take a genius to see where this is going. I unfailingly meet my clients' deadlines, yet I rarely set deadlines for myself. I deliver on my clients' goals; I rarely articulate my own. I feel a sense of responsibility to my clients because they are paying the bills. But my own work - like blogging, to build a wider pool of potential clients - that waits until I have "something to say."
I'm only halfway through this weeklong blogging challenge (let's hear it for Day 4!) and it's clear to me that if I need to write, I will find something to say. "Need," for me (I'm learning) requires a commitment. And while I'm great at making and keeping commitments to my clients, I have a pretty woeful track record of doing so for myself. Yes, "Ship" happens. But only when I make it happen.
So here's a commitment: I will blog at least twice a week. And finally get my monthly newsletter going. Sign up for it in the box to the left.
Ship, ship, hooray!
Friday, January 16, 2015
My turn (and yours)
Maybe a decade ago, my then-partner opened a package at work and found a book. Someone had sent it to her because she wrote about small businesses, and this was a book of advice for businesspeople. Well, for people. And for businesses. But not, she thought, for her audience.
She called me: "I got this book about business. You're a business writer, maybe you'd like to read it."
"Who wrote it?"
"Some guy named Seth Godin." He edited it, she said, from contributions by a long list of people. She reeled off the names, the A-list of business writers: Dan Pink, the speechwriter who branded freelancing as a profession. Malcolm Gladwell, the brilliant social analyst whose work I first found in The New Yorker. And then, amid the who's who of business literati, one name leapt out. Not a business expert - as far as I knew - but someone I'd definitely heard of: My ex. Well, "ex" may be putting it a little too strongly. Someone I had dated after college and since lost track of.
And that's why I read The Big Moo. Not because of the subject, not because of the famous co-authors but because of this trailmix-munching creature I met at an old friend's party in the latter part of the 20th century.
They say you get something valuable out of every relationship. It took a few decades but that post-collegiate fling led me to Seth Godin, and I am very glad for it. I recommend his work constantly, especially to people who believe that "sophisticated" has to mean "complicated," that "smart" and "readable" cannot coexist.
Seth's most recent book, What to Do When It's Your Turn (and It's Always Your Turn), has some powerful things to say about fear and change and action. "Action," for a writer, means writing - something I have done only spottily on this blog, something I have determined to do more of in 2015.
And that brings me to Monday, Day 1 of a challenge to "ship every day" - blog every day for a week. Winnie Kao, the Godin-phile who created it, calls it the Your Turn Challenge. Join me. I expect to learn something about myself. Maybe you can too.
She called me: "I got this book about business. You're a business writer, maybe you'd like to read it."
"Who wrote it?"
"Some guy named Seth Godin." He edited it, she said, from contributions by a long list of people. She reeled off the names, the A-list of business writers: Dan Pink, the speechwriter who branded freelancing as a profession. Malcolm Gladwell, the brilliant social analyst whose work I first found in The New Yorker. And then, amid the who's who of business literati, one name leapt out. Not a business expert - as far as I knew - but someone I'd definitely heard of: My ex. Well, "ex" may be putting it a little too strongly. Someone I had dated after college and since lost track of.
And that's why I read The Big Moo. Not because of the subject, not because of the famous co-authors but because of this trailmix-munching creature I met at an old friend's party in the latter part of the 20th century.
They say you get something valuable out of every relationship. It took a few decades but that post-collegiate fling led me to Seth Godin, and I am very glad for it. I recommend his work constantly, especially to people who believe that "sophisticated" has to mean "complicated," that "smart" and "readable" cannot coexist.
Seth's most recent book, What to Do When It's Your Turn (and It's Always Your Turn), has some powerful things to say about fear and change and action. "Action," for a writer, means writing - something I have done only spottily on this blog, something I have determined to do more of in 2015.
And that brings me to Monday, Day 1 of a challenge to "ship every day" - blog every day for a week. Winnie Kao, the Godin-phile who created it, calls it the Your Turn Challenge. Join me. I expect to learn something about myself. Maybe you can too.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
And I quote...
Which is more powerful?
A.
Abigail Adams reminded her husband John to "remember the ladies" when drafting the new nation's Constitution.
or
B.
Abigail Adams didn't just remind her husband John to "remember the ladies" when drafting the new nation's Constitution. She also issued a warning: "If particular care and attention is not paid to the ladies, we are determined to foment a rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any laws in which we have no voice or representation."
Many people know the "remember the ladies" quotation. And it's fine, as far as it goes. But look at the primary source (or in this case, the primary source as reprinted on a website) and you find something much more interesting. As far back as Colonial times, women were prepared to disregard laws that disregarded them! [Pardon me while I stop to imagine what history would have looked like if that rebellion had truly taken hold.]
But back to my point: Whatever you're writing, take the time to ferret out the primary sources. That's where the gold lies. (Click to tweet.) In the corporate world, that may just mean a 15-minute conversation with the person you're writing for.
Gatekeepers have their place in the business world - many executives keep impossible schedules and couldn't possibly speak to everyone who wants to claim their time. But if a speech is important enough to make it onto the speaker's calendar, it's important enough to have an interview with the speechwriter.
The gatekeepers may think they know exactly what the executive wants to say - and when it comes to policy and practices, they're probably right. But they can't supply the human touch, the personal touch that makes any communication memorable.
Gatekeepers can only guess at what the principal is thinking, They may know some relevant anecdotes but unless they shadow the exec 24/7, they won't have them all. And the more intermediaries between speaker and writer, the weaker the story becomes. It's like the children's game of "Telephone," where a phrase faithfully repeated down a chain of listeners ends up hopelessly garbled. "We won't obey laws that don't represent us" becomes "remember the ladies."
Interviewing the subject up front will save everyone time on the back end (less rewriting). And the end product - whether speech or op-ed, or just a post in an internal newsletter - will be stronger for it. And you can quote me on that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)