MessagePoint Blog

I gave a letter to the postman … but not recently

2011-10-22T11:48:00.000-07:00

The personal letter – you know, the paper kind – has been in ill health for a long time. It caught a nagging cough with the advent of affordable long distance. It really started wheezing when everybody got email accounts. Now it’s nearly flat-lined because of social media.

I can’t remember the last time I found a real letter among the bills, catalogs, magazines and junk mail. Apparently I’m not alone. The Post Office says the average household receives personal mail – a greeting card with a note, for example – every two months.

Thank goodness for Hallmark. I treasure the cards I receive from family and friends and tuck many of those with personal messages away in a shoebox that is now overflowing. I especially cherish the cards from my grandkids. The birthday, Father’s Day and thank you cards they send tell a unique story that begins with a few scribbles, moves to little drawings and proudly printed names, and continues to fully formed thoughts and complex sentences that reveal the remarkable little people they have become.

I write quick notes to clients, jot a few lines in greeting cards and occasionally type, print and mail a short letter to my octogenarian father, who is not exactly cruising down the information superhighway. (He’s a retired postal employee, but I’m sure that’s just a coincidence.) The rest of my written correspondence is electronic.

My mother made me a scrapbook containing dozens of letters she had written her mother when I was an infant and toddler. My grandmother saved all of my mom’s weekly letters, perhaps in a shoebox. They are sweet, mundane and provide both an otherwise unavailable snapshot of my childhood and priceless insight into the person who was my 20-year-old mother.

When my son was in the Navy, I made sure to write him at least weekly, because I remember what it was like not to hear the mail clerk call my name. Though, I must confess that the opposite was usually true in my case. I was a newlywed in basic training and received several letters most days, much to the envy of the other well-shorn guys in my flight.

Email is fast, efficient and always available. Social media lets you correspond simultaneously with hundreds, thousands or even millions of people (if you’re Lady Gaga). Even though IT professionals and convicted inside traders will attest that email has a long electronic tail that is pretty hard to erase, I don’t know anyone who saves even their most memorable emails in a real (or virtual) shoebox. Too bad.

If you say “f**k” when your shoelace breaks, what do you say when your tire blows on the freeway?

2011-10-15T09:06:00.000-07:00

I was raised by a mother for whom OMG means “oh my gosh” and a father who once sent the backseat into a giggling state by calling a coworker a “horse’s rear end.” Their good example didn’t take. I played team sports, served in the military and lived in New Jersey. So I know my way around an expletive.

The same example was not set by the father in the classic “A Christmas Story,” who grownup Ralphie described this way: “He worked in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay. It was his true medium; a master.”

I do regret that the best curse words have lost their power to shock. The South Park kids said “shit” 162 times on a recent episode – and that’s basic cable. Keep your ears open as you walk along a city street, shop the mall or sit in a restaurant and count the number of times you hear one of George Carlin’s seven words. Not in mixed company? Forget it. Pardon my French? So passé.

The preschool teacher told the kids that “stupid” was a bad word. That was three years ago. To this day, granddaughter Ava will stare daggers through me if I call a movie stupid, but go right on coloring if I happen to let the f-bomb slip during a ballgame.

The n-word still shocks me. Last winter my son and I attended a Phoenix Suns game and sat near a group of young African American men. Some sat in the row behind us, some in the row in front of us, but they were all together. The n-word word was clearly part of their everyday vocabularies and, yes, I know the “rule” that says minority groups can use certain words to describe themselves but that doesn’t give the rest of us the right to use them. Still, I was glad that my grandchildren weren’t there to hear the casual use of that offensive word.

“I know a really bad word and it starts with an ‘F,’” five-year old granddaughter Sophie recently told her mother. “That’s a very bad word that you must never say,” Amy told her. “In fact that’s the worst bad word of all.” “Oh,” said Sophie, “I thought the worst word was ‘noodlehead.’”

I’ve been trying to curb my swearing around the grandkids, with people I’ve just met and in general. But sometimes it’s pretty darn hard. See Mom? I’m trying!

How to get your news releases noticed

2011-05-21T10:36:00.000-07:00

Getting your press releases noticed in today's highly connected world of social media is often a challenge.

But here are three simple rules that guarantee wide exposure:

1. Be a former Speaker of the House and a Republican presidential candidate.

2. Be a pompous ass.

3. Have your press release performed by John Lithgow on the Colbert Report.

Lucas Fayne is a very satisfied man

2011-05-20T10:10:00.000-07:00

Lucas Fayne may be the most satisfied man in America.

He's also proof positive that new media is a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. As detailed in The New York Times' always readable "The Haggler" column on April 24, Mr. Fayne has expressed his extreme satisfaction with the service and efficiency of 50 home improvement companies in geographies ranging from Denver, Oklahoma City and Madison, Ala.

In fact, Lucas is so consistently satisfied that he used almost identical words to describe his delight on the websites of at least 50 different companies:

“We were very satisfied with the service and efficiency of your company. Getting the quote was quick and easy, and your staff started on time each day and worked hard. We are very confident with the job you did and have been recommending you to all of our neighbors.”

Same sentiments, same words more or less, describing his interaction with 50 different companies.

As you've probably guessed by now, all of these companies used the same template to build their websites. The template included a "sample" customer testimonial as a placeholder. Every one of the companies was apparently so pleased with the sample that they didn't change it ... at least until their laziness was noticed by the NYT.

So much for crediblity and originality.

54% of statistics are made up

2011-04-12T11:44:00.000-07:00

“There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies and statistics.” This quotation, usually credited to British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, came to mind today when I saw a clip of Arizona Sen. Jon Kyle on “The Daily Show.”

Speaking on the Senate Floor during the recent budget debate, Kyle noted that “well over 90 percent” of Planned Parenthood’s activities are abortion-related. The real number, it turns out, is closer to 3 percent. But, as we used to say in the Air Force, “close enough for government work.”

Kyle’s office later said that he hadn’t meant to imply that the 90 percent number he tossed out was a “fact.” It was merely a way to get his point across. Don’t confuse him with facts, I guess, because his mind is made up. Hyperbole is fine with me, as long as we’re in on the joke.

That was certainly true back in the 60s when legendary comedian, broadcaster and adman Stan Freberg posited that nine out of 10 doctors preferred Chun King Chow Mein, before showing us nine smiling Asians and one frowning Caucasian in lab coats. No reasonable person would have expected that Freberg had actually conducted a poll of doctors.

Statistics are powerful tools for writers, of course. Like good cooks, good writers know how to use data to spice up their writing without overdoing it. A few statistics used as proof points validate and support the ideas writers – or their clients – are trying to get across.

Communicators can also use statistics to talk about their work using the first language of their bosses and clients, many of whom live in a world of data. They expect communicators to be able to measure and quantify the results of their efforts, just like any other discipline.

I remember attending a conference about 15 years ago at which a communicator from a peer company presented on his internal communications measurement process, initiated to appease a data-crazy business unit president.

The communicator had done a great job of soliciting feedback from employees through various means and showed a couple of charts comparing his company’s data to “best-in-class” performance. During the Q&A I asked him where the best-in-class numbers came from, expecting him to cite some global survey or other credible benchmark. But, without shame or reservation, he admitted he had made them up.

At least he was honest.

Take my words, please

2011-03-16T11:13:00.000-07:00

As someone who spends a lot of his time putting words in other people’s mouths, I like it when my clients care enough to own what I have written for them. Whether the project is a speech, article, op-ed or letter, it’s most satisfying to collaborate with the person for whom I’m ghostwriting and to go back and forth a few times until they are comfortable with the content.

After all, they – not I – will speak the words, get the byline or sign the letter. When it comes to ghostwriting, anonymity suits me.

I remember once – once – trying to get my props by letting a colleague know that I had actually written the joke the company president told at the awards banquet the night before; the very joke the colleague was now retelling to great acclaim. Narcissus was punished for his vanity and so was I. That colleague gave me plenty of opportunity to reflect on the value of staying anonymous by teasing me mercilessly about my presumed ability to control what came out of the president’s mouth.

I found myself thinking about the importance of speakers owning their words recently when India’s foreign minister delivered three minutes of someone else’s speech at an important conference. He did not realize his mistake and presumably would have gone on longer, but an aide stopped him and suggested he start over, this time reading his own script.

Talk about not owning his words – this guy didn’t even recognize them. Certainly he had not rehearsed thoroughly before taking the stage and it is possible that he hadn’t even reviewed the speech someone else had written for him. Seems to me this should be the minimum standard.

That reminds me of two of my favorite anecdotes about ghostwritten materials, both from the world of sports. Upon being asked whether his original autobiography was the first book he had ever written, Pete Rose supposedly remarked that it was in fact the first book he had ever read. I bet he was telling the truth.

Charles Barkley claimed he was misquoted in his 1992 autobiography “Outrageous,” later admitting the “misquotes” were his own fault. “I should have read it first,” he said. This is not turrible advice.

2011 Resolution: Lose some word weight on a daily basis

2011-01-28T12:53:00.000-08:00

"I didn’t have time to write a short letter so I’ve written a long one instead." Often credited to a Sam – Johnson or Clemons – this quote speaks to the fact that careful writers struggle to keep their writing lean and crisp. It’s worth the effort.

There’s no substitute for the declarative sentence that is simple, clear and concise, trimmed of words that don’t add value. You don’t have to take my word for it.

Here’s what Strunk and White’s venerable “Elements of Style” has to say:

"Omit needless words. Vigorous writing is concise. A sentence should contain no unnecessary words, a paragraph no unnecessary sentences, for the same reason that a drawing should have no unnecessary lines and a machine no unnecessary parts. This requires not that the writer make all his sentences short, or that he avoid all detail and treat his subjects only in outline, but that every word tell."

S&W’s essential guide goes on to list some examples of bloated phrases that can be easily replaced by lean ones. But they miss my least favorite, which I hear on a daily basis, and which grates on my ear every time.

“On a daily basis. On a weekly basis. On an hourly basis. On a whatever basis.” When daily or every day, weekly, hourly or whatever-ly” work much better.

Save a few words – and my eardrums – by banishing this waste of words from your vocabulary in 2011.

Can we talk... about arrogance & insecurity?

2011-01-14T08:57:00.000-08:00

It was hard not to execute an eye-roll worthy of an exasperated preteen as a senior executive from a client company prepared to describe his corporation’s “personality.”

I immediately flashed back to the look on a former, brilliant, and brilliantly cynical boss’ face when a branding consultant from corporate headquarters asked, “If this company were an animal, what animal would it be?” I don’t recall his answer. I do recall that the consultant was quickly nicknamed Barbara Walters.

But just then the client did something quite unexpected. He made sense.

“This company is both arrogant and insecure,” he said. “We’re absolutely convinced that we can hit a home run every time. But we’re deathly afraid to step up to the plate.”

I knew the company very well; well enough to know that he was spot on.

I thought of this conversation last night as I watched the 2010 documentary “Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work.” Despite all her success as a standup comedian, actress and writer – not to mention her trailblazing place in comedy and talk show history – it’s clear that Rivers gets no respect (with apologies to Rodney Dangerfield). Certainly no respect from herself.

Today, in fact, Rivers believes she is a living, breathing punch line for other comics, by virtue of her advancing age and love of plastic surgery. She’s right.

Just as in her act, Rivers holds little back in this documentary. What comes across is a person who is both (pause) both extremely arrogant and extremely insecure. She’s jealous of the success of others less talented than she perceives herself to be, fearful of those she views as cleverer and quick to put down perceived rivals and critics with the basest of insults. Her biggest boogieman is the empty calendar page, which she sees as proof positive that she us unwanted, underappreciated and unloved. She plays crappy clubs and tiny rooms in remote casinos, and hates herself for it.

I confess that I’m not the world’s biggest Joan Rivers fan. I saw her in Vegas sometime in the Eighties during one of her many hot periods, but found her too mean-spirited for my taste. Her opening act was an unknown named Garry Shandling, who I found to be much, much funnier. Rivers’ abrasiveness prevents me from empathizing too much with Rivers and her inner struggle.

Anyway, today I’m thinking about myself (surprise!) and specifically about whether there are times that my own arrogance or insecurity get in the way of my success.

New Year's Usage Resolution (Part 1)

2011-01-13T14:02:00.000-08:00

All of us who shove words together for a living have our least favorite words, phrases or devices – things we try to avoid in our own writing and annoy us in the writing of others.

Crap. I used the editorial we. I hate the editorial we! At best its use is dishonest, implying that the writer speaks for many others when he is usually sitting alone at his keyboard in his pajamas.

That is, of course, unless he meets one of the criterion listed by Roscoe Conkling, a post-Civil War U.S. Senator, who said that “There are three classes of people who use ‘we’ instead of ‘I.’ They are emperors, editors and men with tapeworms.”

To the best of my knowledge, I am none of the above and therefore resolve to remain “we-free” in 2011.

2010-10-29T12:53:00.000-07:00

This probably disqualifies me for a job on NPR, but like Juan Williams, I’m sometimes guilty of making snap judgments about people based on their clothing. Take Yankees fans. Please.

Sometimes it’s hard not to jump to conclusions about a franchise’s supporters. Of course, not all pinstripe-wearing Yankees fans are obnoxious. Probably.

But fans of extremely successful sports teams – like the Yankees – seem to have this in common: If their team beats your team they rub it in; if your team beats their team they say it doesn’t matter because they have 1,500 championship rings.

When I first became interested in baseball, back in the early 1960s, the Senators had just moved to Minnesota and become the Twins. Like most of the kids in my hometown, I was immediately hooked on baseball and the new franchise. Root, root, rooting for the home team wasn’t just a matter of loyalty, in my opinion, it was a sacrament.

Then I met Bud Sterling. Bud was a Yankees fan. A traitor to the hometown boys and those nice Cuban players Calvin Griffith signed. Bud wasn’t a transplant from the East Coast or anything like that, he just liked the Yankees because they had a lineup of powerhouse stars and a whole bunch of pennants and World Series rings.

I liked some of the Yankees’ players well enough. I went to grade school with Roger Maris’ niece, which was a pretty close brush with fame for that time and place. I admired Mickey Mantle’s skills and well-remember the time I saw him hit two towering home runs during a July 4 doubleheader at the old Metropolitan Stadium. I remember it so well, in fact, that I wonder if it actually happened.

I like some of the Yankees players today, too. It’s hard not to like Derek Jeter and I respect the skills of Mariano Rivera, Robinson Cano and several of the other guys on the team. I’d like them better if they played for the Twins or Diamondbacks, of course. After all, as Jerry Seinfeld observed, being an American sports fan actually means you’re rooting for that team’s clothes.

I sometimes make exceptions for the Yankees, the Lakers and a couple of the Vikings’ football rivals, but in general I prefer to root for my teams rather than against someone else’s. Sometimes, though, the distinction isn’t that clear. At a Diamondbacks-Yankees game a couple of years ago my son and I sat a few rows in front of woman who obviously had consumed a few frosty beverages. Every time the Yankees captain came to the plate, made a play or had the audacity to appear on the field she loudly yelled, “Jeter sucks ass!” at the top of her lungs. This went on for a number of innings before she finally yelled out, “Hey … why am I the only one cheering for the Diamondbacks?”

Yup … sometimes it’s a pretty fine line.

When bosses go undercover

2010-10-07T14:02:00.000-07:00

I normally avoid reality shows like the Jersey Shore kids shun li-baries. But I admit to being hooked on “Undercover Boss,” which airs Sunday evenings on CBS.

You probably know the formula, which hasn’t varied a bit in the four episodes I’ve watched.

· The CEOs go undercover for a few days, posing as new employees of their company. The producers choose consumer-oriented companies (hotel, restaurant, retail store) with multiple locations and lots of lower-wage employees who interact with customers.

· The bosses assume the wardrobe and the role of regular employees working regular shifts, facing tasks as varied as frying donuts and cleaning up feces. “Never mind the cameras,” coworkers are told. We’re shooting a documentary on people changing careers.”

· The bosses invariable find most of their employees to be true working-class heroes, but note shortcomings in company policies, procedures and the operations themselves.

· They return to the boardroom with a list of action items for their staffs.

· Finally they reveal their true identities and change everyone’s lives.

The concept is sappy and contrived for sure. After all my years in corporate communications, I can imagine the jockeying that goes on behind the scenes to make sure the right locations, programs and employees are featured – “right” being defined as those that will make an interesting story while painting the company in a very positive light.

I chuckle each week when, without exception, one of the frontline employees does or says something that causes the producers to cut away to the image of a disgusted and disguised CEO who can’t believe what he or she just heard. Somebody on the boss’ staff is also going to hear about this. And it just might be the communications guy.

For example, on a recent episode the likeable president and CEO of Choice Hotels was working with a friendly and capable front desk clerk at one of the chain’s properties. She mentioned that she loved the hospitality industry and wanted to eventually become a hotel manager.

“Does Choice offer any training?” the undercover boss asked, knowing the answer. “Nope,” the woman replied. Cut away to horrified CEO. “I’m putting millions of dollars into Choice University,” he railed seconds later in an aside to the camera, “and her leaders haven’t told her a thing about it!”

I wonder if that’s true, but it doesn’t really matter. It's enough that the boss believes it to be true, because he heard it with his own ears. I also wonder how long it was before the communicator issued a reminder on the wonders of Choice University to all employees.

It’s a fact that even the smartest of bosses often react or perhaps overreact to the most recent input they receive, no matter how isolated, opinionated or invalid that input may be. It’s human nature and a fact of life for communicators who often find that – for some bosses – well-thought-out communications strategies, feedback mechanisms and measurement tools are not nearly as credible as chance encounters in the hall.

Amen

2010-09-07T08:15:00.000-07:00

I seldom pay any mind at all to anything Glen Beck has to say. His charm eludes me completely.

But as someone who has spent a fair amount of time putting words in other people's mouths, I found something he said at the recent gathering at the Lincoln Memorial compelling.

Speaking of the Gettysburg Address and MLK's "I have a dream" speech, Beck told the crowd: "The words are alive. Our most famous speeches are American scripture."

Making the cut

2010-09-05T12:41:00.000-07:00

Yesterday the Arizona Cardinals cut QB Matt Leinert, the 2004 Heisman Trophy winner who once was heralded as the franchise’s savior.

After first losing the starting job to Kurt Warner a few years ago, Leinert seemed content to back Warner up while awaiting what many assumed to be his automatic ascension to the starter’s job. Despite his long apprenticeship behind a future Hall of Famer, Leinert wasn’t ready to take the reins and, by all accounts, did nothing to win the confidence of his coaches and teammates. A multimillion dollar bust.

I’ve seen this happen in corporations, too. Seemingly capable lieutenants work for years – sometimes decades – in the shadow of key executives and everyone assumes they’ll take over when their bosses move on to greener pastures or retire.

Sometimes it all works out. Sometimes the second banana is as capable and successful as the first. Sometimes he or she takes the organization to new heights.

Sometimes not. Sometimes the old boss leaves and it turns out the heir apparent wasn’t that apparent after all and the company promotes or hires someone else. Other times the backup gets the job, can’t hack it and is quickly replaced or, just as bad, rendered irrelevant.

The lesson, I suppose, is to assume nothing and prepare for everything. Sounds a bit trite, I’ll admit.

Not that many years ago I supported a CEO who was compelled to fire the person who had succeeded him. A multibillion dollar mistake, perhaps. I’ll never forget what he said as the search began for a new successor: “We have to find someone who views this job as a challenge, not a reward.”

Everyone's a Critic

2010-08-03T10:38:00.000-07:00

After 35 years the balcony is getting ready to close, permanently. Sometime in August ABC will air the final syndicated episode of the granddaddy of all movie review television shows, “At the Movies.” I for one will miss it.

For my money, the current incarnation with Michael Phillips and A.O. Scott is the most insightful and entertaining since the days when Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel hosted the show. “At the Movies” is the most direct descendent of the original PBS series “Sneak Previews,” which broke ground by translating film criticism into the preferred language of my generation – television.

But the generational language has changed. Most of today’s moviegoers speak a digital dialect. They don’t read movie reviews, they access them. There’s an app for that, lots in fact.

Today’s movie goers don’t want to know what one critic thinks, they want to know what they all think. This has spawned “Rotten Tomatoes” and other websites that aggregate the opinions of hundreds of critics and spit out a single number that is supposed to express the quality and entertainment value of the latest release.

On reflection, maybe that’s not so much different than Gene and Roger’s trademarked “thumbs up, thumbs down” rating system, Michael and Tony’s “see it, rent it, skip it” system, or the hundreds of critics who award movies a certain number of stars, letter grades or boxes of popcorn.

If the ability to capture the opinions of a hundred bona fide critics in a whole number between 1 and 100 isn’t enough for you, the social media revolution has created a democracy in which anyone and everyone can be a critic. While it might not be all that helpful to know that your 16-year-old son thinks “Inception” rocks (he’s wrong) it might be meaningful that a dozen of your Facebook friends think “The Kids are Alright” is better than just alright (I agree).

Don’t get me wrong, I’m hardly an elitist. I’m just an unrepentant movie lover. I also find the Internet to be a wonderful enabler of my film addiction. As evidence, I chose “movienuts” as my Prodigy screen name when I first began exploring the world-wild-web with a 28K modem.
No doubt I’ll continue to read reviews from favorite critics (including Phillips and Scott) online, share recommendations with Facebook friends, and use the IMDB to answer the frequent question, “Where have I seen that actress before?”

I will not, however, watch “Clash of the Titans” on my cell phone. That would be difficult enough in a theater. And they have popcorn.

No waterfowl were harmed in the writing of this blog entry

2010-06-22T21:04:00.000-07:00

The great American humorist Will Rogers observed that “It takes a lifetime to build a good reputation, but you can lose it in a minute.”

BP is a case in point. Just months ago BP had once again earned its customary spot on the Fortune magazine list of the World’s Most Admired Companies, ranking respectably among such other petroleum exploration giants as Exxon, Shell and Chevron.

Of the nine criteria that Fortune covers in its annual survey, BP scored highest in “Social Responsibility.” You can insert your own punch line here.

Fast forward and BP is the foremost villain in an authentic tragedy that so far has few heroes. There are other bad guys, too. But BP is unlikely to relinquish its position as polluter in chief, rightly ordained to bear the brunt of responsibility for what is surely one of the worst manmade environmental disasters in human history.

Sadly, it may take decades or perhaps a lifetime for the Gulf to fully recover. It may take longer for BP’s business to rebound and longer still for the company to repair its besotted image. If that’s even possible. The company’s public relations missteps are already legendary. Company execs show even less talent for recovering their reputation than for recovering our oil.

The beaches of history are littered with the bleached bones of reputations never recovered.

The magnitude of the Gulf spill is measured in Exxon Valdezes, reminding us daily of that company’s 1989 incident.

The airline ValuJet decided to change its names rather than try to repair its wrecked image.

The Union Carbide pesticide plant disaster at Bhopal still haunts after a quarter century and Union Carbide is no more.

And we could talk for hours about homerun kings, Heisman winners and golf legends forever (or at least currently) more associated with crimes and misbehaviors than their exploits on the field of play.

Who knows if BP will suffer a similar fate? Not me.

But I will share this little parable, for what it’s worth. About 30 years ago I was driving my son home from a Little League game. No doubt we were engrossed in reliving his performance or perhaps I was giving advice about the elegance of a nice level swing.

That’s when I hit the duck. Who knows why it tried to cross the road? Maybe it darted in front of me. Maybe it failed to signal. Regardless, I ran over a duck. There was a noticeable bump. Andy looked at me with horror. We watched the duck hobble toward the park. I don’t know if it survived.

I think of that duck often, because Andy will never let me forget it. Never. He tells the story often, usually pantomiming the poor creature’s limping gait. Three decades and I’m still trying to live down the fact that I (possibly) killed one duck. BP has its work cut out for it.

Close to You: Songs for Tight Times & Places

2010-06-12T10:01:00.000-07:00

I recently traveled from Phoenix to Colorado Springs for a live taping of the always-entertaining National Public Radio news quiz program Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me.

I didn’t make my own flight reservations and didn’t pay attention to the details until it was too late. So I ended up killing a couple of hours in the vast and rambling Denver airport awaiting the second leg of the trip – a short hop from Denver to Colorado Springs on a commuter jet.

I’m not a big fan of these smaller airplanes. They’re an uncomfortable fit for anyone and I’m not just anyone: I’m a pretty big one. I was fortunate to be assigned a seat in an exit row, giving me a skosh more room. I was unfortunate to be seated next to a man who outweighed me by at least a c-note, maybe two.

Normally I enjoy the novelty of being around heavier people. Even as he walked down the aisle, eyes fixed on the seat next to me, I knew that my aisle-mate and I were destined to become close during what United Express published as a 37-minute flight. Very close.

Imagine my relief when the pilot announced that our actual flying time would be just 22 minutes. I figure I can endure almost anything for that amount of time, which I proved recently when I couldn’t locate the remote during a rerun of “Two and a Half Men.” No permanent damage.

Shortly after takeoff the flight attendant came on the PA to announce that there was no service on this flight because of its short duration, but if we needed anything we should, well, keep it to ourselves I guess.

Then she said something that made me laugh so hard that my sides would have shaken, had there been room: “You may now turn on personal electronic devices … for the next four minutes.”

I didn’t take advantage of this small window of entertainment opportunity because I couldn’t reach my iPod (or move my arms, for that matter). But I’ve spent some time since trying to figure out what song I should have played. A few candidates:

• One, Three Dog Night (3:03)
• Rocky Mountain High, John Denver (4:43)
• Four Minutes, Madonna (4:04)
• Give Me Just a Little More Time, Chairmen of the Board (2.41)
• Close to You, The Carpenters (4:36)
• One Song Glory, Cast of Rent (2:43)
• Uptight, Stevie Wonder (2:54)
• Out of Time, Rolling Stones (3:41)

Your suggestions are welcome. The more the merrier. The next time I need to get from Denver to Colorado Springs I’m going to drive, so I’ll need a whole playlist.

Any magazine that would have me as a reader...

2010-05-09T21:29:00.000-07:00

Newsweek is on life support. The Washington Post put the newsweekly up for sale last week and there’s been speculation that it may go the way of U.S. News and World Report, which ended print publication altogether.

Editor Jon Mecham appeared on Reliable Sources this morning to discuss the magazine’s fate. Naturally, he hopes Newsweek continues to exist in something close to its present form. A job is a rare and wonderful thing for print journalists these days.

He also talked about what, at least on the surface, seems like a questionable business plan. Newsweek has actually been trying to cut its circulation in half to deliver a more elite and affluent audience to advertisers. That may seem counterintuitive, but Newsweek probably hopes to reduce production costs and charge advertisers a premium for delivering an audience willing to part with bigger chunks of their disposable income.

Newsweek has doubled its subscription prices, presumably to winnow out the less desirable elements. Like me.

I’ve subscribed to either Time or Newsweek for decades. I’ve switched back and forth between the two several times. I’m well aware that some people perceive Newsweek to have a more liberal slant, but frankly I don’t really see that much difference between the two in terms of political perspective. Time seems “newsier” to me than Newsweek, but I certainly have no empirical data to back up that impression.

I get Time these days for a very mercenary reason. Someone gave me a gift subscription a few years ago. So I didn’t continue Newsweek when my subscription was up. But, now that I think about it, I don’t think they sent me a renewal notice.

I don’t follow you on Twitter.

2010-05-04T10:43:00.000-07:00

Nothing personal. I don’t follow anyone on Twitter. Not Ashton Kutcher, Glenn Beck or Shaquille O’Neal. I choose not to keep up with the Kardashians at all, much less on Twitter.

It’s not that I’m anti social media. I blog, though not enough. I use Facebook, probably too much. I use LinkedIn. I actually have a Twitter account, though I’ve yet to tweet, much to no one’s disappointment.

I think I understand Twitter, but I really don’t get it. Who needs to know that Ashton just paid $10 for a vodka tonic at the hotel bar (a real tweet) or that someone I once met at a conference just had a strawberry yogurt? Yum.

Of course I know that there are other kinds of tweets, too. Sometimes tweeters report real news in real time. Articulate people express cogent thoughts in remarkably few syllables. Generous folks share information and insights from conference sessions seconds after the words are spoken. Discerning people recommend articles, books, movies and such that would undoubtedly interest me and enrich my life.

As valuable as these things might be, I don’t have time for them. I already have a TMI (too much information) problem. I cannot begin to absorb, process, understand and use all the information that I choose to receive already via television, e-mail, the Internet, podcasts, books, newspapers, magazines, radio and other sources. It’s all more than my 20th Century brain can handle sometimes and that frustrates me.

I once read about a CEO who was so overwhelmed by the volume of e-mails he received that he occasionally declared “e-mail bankruptcy” by erasing everything in his In Box, with the full confidence that the senders would follow-up on anything that was really important.

I could never do that. But I do erase a lot of subscription and newsletter-style e-mails – some valuable I’m sure – without ever reading them. Magazines I intend to read stack up and sometimes wind up in the recycle bin unopened when I declare “magazine bankruptcy.” I record programs that never get watched and download podcasts that never get heard. I live and work among piles of books I fully intend to read.

So, for now at least, I choose to not subject myself to 140-character messages from friends and colleagues, movie stars and politicians, opinion leaders and industry experts. They would only remind me of all the things I’m missing. Including the vodka tonics and frozen yogurts. Yum.

Start with a laugh ... end with a tear

2010-03-24T13:19:00.000-07:00

Liz Carpenter had three simple rules for writing a successful speech:

• Start with a laugh to put the audience in a good mood and get their attention.
• Put the meat in the middle by addressing your main points.
• Wave the flag at the end by inspiring and motivating the group to take action.

That’s pretty good advice, upon which Carpenter elaborated in her practical, charming and often funny 2000 book, “Start with a Laugh.” The book is filled with lessons learned, tried-and-true advice and wonderful anecdotes from the author’s long public life including, of course, her days in the Johnson White House.

For example, I chuckled when I read Carpenter’s advice for handling quotations, which stemmed from LBJ’s reaction to a quote someone put in one of his speeches.

“LBJ was so determined to make his words understood by the people that once, when he came upon a speech draft quoting Aristotle, he turned to the startled writer and said. ‘Aristotle? Those folks don’t know who the hell Aristotle is.’ Then he took his pen, crossed out the reference to Aristotle and wrote in, ‘as my dear old daddy used to say.’”

When Carpenter died last week, most of the obituaries identified her as Lady Bird’s former press secretary. But she also should be remembered for writing the 58 impactful words that a clearly shaken LBJ spoke when upon arriving at Andrews AFB on that terrible day in November 1963:

"This is a sad time for all people. We have suffered a loss that cannot be weighed. For me, it is a deep personal tragedy. I know that the world shares the sorrow that Mrs. Kennedy and her family bear. I will do my best. That is all I can do. I ask for your help and God's."

Typically humble, Carpenter was reluctant to take credit for those words. “God was my ghostwriter,” she said.

Shared Experience Becomes Experience We Share

2010-03-02T07:51:00.000-08:00

This is a guest blog recently posted on the BurrellsLuce "Fresh Ideas" blog. Reprinted here for those who didn't have a chance to see it there.

Instead of being a “shared experience,” TV is quickly becoming “an experience we share.” That observation, made on a recent episode of NPR’s always-enjoyable Culturetopia podcast, really rings true for me.

I’m a first-generation television kid and am old enough to remember when the television dial was really a dial with 13 numbers. There were just three networks plus an educational channel and an independent channel or two that mostly showed old movies. Miss “The Twilight Zone,” “Ed Sullivan,” “Laugh-In” or, later, “Saturday Night Live” and you risked being left out of the lunchtime conversation.

That was pretty much the way of the world until the first video recorders began appearing in homes and offices in the 1980s. Almost overnight it became possible to borrow a missed episode of “Cheers” from a coworker who hadn’t forgotten to set his VCR (as long as he didn’t have a Beta machine).

This opened up a whole new world for communications professionals. Suddenly it became possible to record, copy, and share cassettes of the annual meeting or positive media coverage with employees, customers, and other stakeholders.

Fast forward a decade or two and digital technology made it possible to post videos on company websites and e-mail links – or even short clips – to your key publics. Even more importantly, you could forward clips of cats playing the piano or bears catching fish to your friends.

Technology has continued to advance at warp speed. You can now see most of your favorite shows online or buy them for a couple of bucks on iTunes. More than 65,000 videos are posted on YouTube every day. And someone somewhere almost certainly watched the Super Bowl on his cell phone.

With more than 100 million viewers, the Super Bowl is one of television’s few remaining shared experiences, something almost everyone watches at the same time. Maybe Michael Phelps swimming at the Summer Olympics or the finale of “American Idol” also qualify. I’d like to hear your nominations.

So what does all this mean for professional communicators?

In some ways it makes our jobs harder. We have more channels to monitor and more competition for people’s attention than ever before. We have to do a better job of training, prepping, and equipping our spokespeople, because screw-ups can live on and on in cyberspace. And we’ve got to be more prepared than ever to respond quickly, effectively, and creatively to disasters, rumors, and PR challenges that didn’t even occur to us a few years ago. Bad news can go viral faster than you can bathe in a KFC sink.

On the opportunities side of the ledger, we also have more tools at our disposal than ever before. We can respond to negative press overnight or, ideally, even quicker. We can set up dedicated YouTube channels, as Best Buy, Mercedes Benz, Apple and hundreds of other companies have done. And we can get the word out – from executive speeches to news clips – faster and to a broader audience than ever before, with a few mouse clicks.

Six decades after television took over America’s living rooms, its power to communicate, persuade, and entertain continues to grow. What are you doing to tap into the power of television in the social media age?

A little less conversation a little more action

2010-02-24T11:09:00.000-08:00

There is a wealth of useful information inside Snapple bottle caps. Recently a 12-ounce Diet Peach informed me that a Frenchman named Michel Thaler published a 233-page novel without a single verb.

In a Wikipedia citation, Thaler called the verb an "invader, dictator, usurper of our literature ... the verb is like a weed in a field of flowers. You have to get rid of it to allow the flowers to grow and flourish.”

In honor of Thaler, I’ll phrase my rebuttal in the form of a noun: bullshit. That will make your flowers flourish, my friend. By the way, the title of his verb-less book translates as “The Train from Nowhere” and I’m not buying a ticket.

I like verbs. I think most sentences should have them. Headlines too. But, as the previous fragment proves, I’m not so much a language purist that I won’t skip a verb now and then for effect.

This would no doubt cause the nuns who drummed grammar rules into my knuckles to peer over their glasses and shake their heads in unison. An early career mentor, on the other hand, would shrug and assert that once you know the rules, you’ve license to consciously break them in the service of effective communications.

If verbs are so inferior to nouns why do so many nouns have verb envy? I remember when such words as “impact,” “target” and “friend” were things you had not things you did. I cringed every time an Olympics analyst said someone would “medal,” instead of “win a medal.” The use of “podium” as a verb was even more grating.

Anyway, verbs are good. Nouns are good. It’s nice when they can agree. Active verbs are better than passive ones. I bore myself when I write too many sentences with verbs like “is” and “are” and “were,” which means this paragraph isn’t too exciting, even to me. Skip it if it’s not too late.

On the nature of storms & stormy times

2010-02-05T13:26:00.000-08:00

On a recent morning I took a walk down a favorite beach in Oceanside, just after a week of torrential rains soaked Southern California. Eroded by pouring rains and pounding seas, the beach was hardly recognizable as the wonderland on which my grandkids frolicked and in which they buried each other mere months ago.

A few intrepid surfers bobbed offshore, ignoring the cloudy skies and relishing the hefty swells. A handful of joggers pounded the well-packed sand near the waterline. Two older men with rolled-up pant legs and metal detectors walked side-by-side, searching for treasure and sending the shorebirds scurrying.

Constant battering by the waves had interrupted the beach’s normal gradual descent to ocean with a sand ridge high enough to sit upon. Great mounds of seaweed had washed ashore, intermixed with all manner of flotsam and jetsam coughed up by the sea.

A couple of soggy tennis balls. Lots of plastic containers and bottle caps. A light bulb. Old sneakers and flip-flops. Some PVC pipe. Dozens of beach toys, faded by sun and sea, gathered by beachcombers or sea sprites on a picnic table, ready for adoption.

Storms are part of nature and part of the nature of things. They are certain, cyclic and unavoidable. Seas get rough. Rain must fall and wind must blow. Damage is done. Pain is felt. The sea purges itself of things it neither wants nor needs.

But eventually the sun comes out. The ocean resumes its regular breathing. Flowers bloom and chicks are hatched. We pick up the pieces and healing begins. No doubt the beach will be back to postcard condition well before the first giggling beach angel shows up in the summertime.

There must be a metaphor here. Economic storms, political storms or whatever, followed invariably by fair weather, soft breezes and drinks with fruit slices and little umbrellas. But I’ll leave that part to you.

Oh, one more thing. I saw a rainbow over the ocean later that day.

How many Kennedys does it take to make a point?

2010-01-04T12:54:00.000-08:00

Esquire's annual "The Meaning of Life" issue features a wide range of people, some of them famous, relfecting on the nature of life. The Kennedy brothers are featured on the cover.

Inside, Esquire has assembled quotes from JFK, RFK and EMK, taken from public and private writings and utterances. They cover an incredibly wide range of subjects - from war, politics and statesmanship to personal relationships and family matters to descriptions of interludes with prosititues (a reminder to be careful what you write and, these days, post!) Interesting reading.

As a communications consultant and frequent ghostwriter, I found it particularly instructive how well and often the Kennedys used humor to diffuse controversy or make a point. Here are a couple of my favorite examples:

I just received the following wire from my generous daddy — "Dear Jack, Don't buy a single vote more than is necessary. I'll be damned if I'm going to pay for a landslide." — JFK, Gridiron Dinner, 1958

What advice would I give to a young man interested in politics? If I just trace my own career, I went to college and then law school and I started out as just a lawyer ... at the Department of Justice. And I worked very hard and I was diligent and I stayed late at night and I made a great deal of effort, and then ten years later I was made attorney general. So I don't know whether it's just ... I think if you can get your brother elected President of the United States, that helps. — RFK, 1964

It was easy — they sank my boat. — JFK, to a high school student who asked how he had become a war hero, 1959

The question was, "How about me and President Johnson?" What about it? Are you trying to start a fight or something? I said in the past that it's possible to have a coalition government in Saigon, but that doesn't mean it's possible here in the United States. — RFK, 1966

My point is that humor is a valuable and effective tool that most writers and speakers use too sparingly. Which reminds me: Did you hear the one about ...

An apple a day keeps the delivery guy in business

2009-12-20T11:11:00.000-08:00

As an independent writer and consultant, I thanked a small handful of my best clients and colleagues by sending treats from Harry & David again this year. Most received small packages of delicious treats, including the deliciously addictive Moose Mix popcorn. One received what may have been the world’s most expensive apples.

She’s a cherished friend and colleague with offices in two locations, one in Phoenix and one on the East Coast. Through a clever ruse (I asked), I learned that she’d be in New Jersey last week and paid Harry or David (whichever handles shipping) a little extra to make sure that a box of their best Honeycrisp apples would arrive by Wednesday.

Harry (or David) lived up to his promise and the apples arrived around noon on the specified date. But what Harry, David and I did not know was that my colleague spent most of that day at an offsite meeting, went directly to her hotel afterward and flew back to Phoenix Thursday morning.

I talked to her later that day and was able to discretely ascertain that she had not received the fruit (I asked). We laughed about the mix-up and I quizzed her about her schedule, intending to place another order on Friday.

But before I reached that line on my to-do list, she called and asked me to guess what she was eating. Her New Jersey colleagues sent had the package to her Phoenix office … via a FedEx. She started to say the apples were delicious, but corrected herself to note that they were actually Honeycrisp (rim shot). True. But they also saw more of the country than Johnny Appleseed.

That's just our style ...

2009-12-19T12:25:00.000-08:00

Even though I don’t consider myself an editorial stickler in the classic sense, writing my last post reminded me of something that happened long, long ago and in a company that has vanished in a haze of memories and mergers.

I was managing internal communications and editing the monthly newsletter. I was doing much of the writing myself, but received occasional contributions from marketing communications people working in the business units. These contributions often were delivered reluctantly and following my wheedling, cajoling and sobbing (but that’s another story).

Anyway, I recall editing one contribution to comply with the publication’s style. Being a marketing guy and more than a little arrogant (is that redundant?) the contributor chuckled dismissively at my minor changes and assured me that “consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds.”

I immediately beat him about the head and shoulders with my AP Stylebook – the old school edition with the wire binding. He survived. But it was even harder to get him to contribute to the publication after that.

I probably should have just pointed out Mr. Emerson was writing about a “foolish consistency” rather than one with logic and purpose. I’m sure that Ralph didn’t mean to provide air cover for writers who don’t care that words, punctuation and capitalization are used consistently in a publication … or even within a single article.

You can’t expect a writer that careless and lazy to care whether titles are capitalized, how commas are used in series, or whether my home state should be abbreviated “AZ” or “Ariz.”

Still, was it necessary to hit him with the style guide? Yes, because there was not a big enough stick handy.

I am not the grammarian about whom your parents warned you

2009-12-10T09:55:00.000-08:00

In fact, I probably couldn’t diagram a sentence if all the nuns at Holy Rosary simultaneously threatened my knuckles with wooden rulers … again.

I’ve been an editor many times and I have a collection of old business cards and job descriptions to prove it. I’m a good proofreader and above average speller (this would definitely surprise the good sisters) and often edit or rewrite drafts provided by clients and other writers.

As a writer myself, I try hard to improve others’ writing without imposing my own style and preferences. Not always easy. My own teachable moment occurred a decade or so ago when, in frustration, a good writer on my staff asked, “Is the goal of this publication to have everything read like Bill Hiniker wrote it?”

It wasn’t. As an experienced ghostwriter and speechwriter, I pride myself on being able to write in my clients’ voices. Publications – like choirs – have more texture when they employ different kinds of voices. Kumbaya. Amen.

I only recently learned the difference between “preposition” and “proposition” … the hard way. But I know good grammar, punctuation and usage when I see it.

I was raised on the AP Style Guide and William Strunk. I cherish my well-worn copy of “The Careful Writer,” given to me by a boss and mentor on my last day as an Air Force journalist. I actually read “Eats, Shoots and Leaves” for fun. I miss Bill Safire.

In many ways I am unapologetically old school. I try to correctly spell words. I think a preposition is still not a great thing to end a sentence with. I check the meanings of words with which I’m not completely familiar. I like it when subjects and verbs are of like mind. Stuff like that.

But early in my journalism training an instructor passed out an article from, of all places, the “Reader’s Digest,” which advocated that people should “write the way they speak,” rather than in the more formal style favored by English teachers of the time (including those dear, and now departed, sisters).

Said another way, it’s better to express than to impress. This is especially true in the social media era, when every word is at a premium.

Still chasing paper, after all these years

2009-12-02T21:53:00.000-08:00

A former colleague recently asked me to recommend her for entry into a master’s degree program, which I was happy to do. I asked her to remind me of the exact dates we’d worked together. She provided them, along with a letter of recommendation I’d written for her more than 15 years ago.

I was impressed. She had quickly located a single sheet of paper that was more than 15 years old. I can seldom find my backside with both hands and a GPS. Ask for a document more than a couple of hours old and I’ll begin by searching the files between “slim chance” and “none.”

The experience took me back to a day back in the early 1980s when I was working in employee communications at Sperry Flight Systems. At a company productivity conference I was covering, a marketing guy from Sperry Univac showed off our company’s first entry in the brand new personal computing market, the SperryLink.

The SperryLink wasn’t a personal computer. It was a remote terminal, which hooked into a mainframe, combined with a word processor that was positively primitive. Lacking internal storage capacity, it stored documents on huge 8x8-inch disks that were actually floppy and had to be stored in their own little filing cabinets. Each held about the same number of documents as a manila folder, as I recall.

Still, the SperryLink was a huge leap forward from the Correcting Selectric typewriter I was pounding at the time and I soon became the first non-secretary in the division to have one on my desk. One of the few times in life I was an early technology adopter.

At the presentation, the very enthusiastic marketing guy (is there another kind?) said, with dramatic certainty, that paper’s days were numbered. Thanks to personal computing, he predicted, we would see the paperless office within five years, 10 tops.

In the third decade after the birth of personal computer, there are still a few sheets of paper around my office. More than a few, actually. How about yours?

So I wonder when I hear predictions that other paper things – newspapers, magazines and books, for instance – will follow the pterodactyl off the scene in the foreseeable future.

If those predictions prove as accurate as the Univac guy’s, maybe we all should pick up a few shares of Dunder Mifflin at a bargain price.

Speechwriting won't kill you

2009-11-16T20:45:00.000-08:00

They say most people are less afraid of dying than speaking in public. That caused Jerry Seinfeld to observe that the person delivering the eulogy may be the only one at a funeral who envies the corpse.

For many communicators, that sense of dread extends to speechwriting assignments. But don’t panic.

Whether you’re putting together a few comments for yourself or writing a keynote for the CEO, use these rules to write better speeches and make ghostwriting less scary.

Always … remember that speeches are about ideas, not just words. Know what you’re trying to communicate before you write. Focus on 1-3 messages. That’s all the audience will remember anyway.

Never… forget the audience. Understand their interests, needs and expectations. Cast messages from the perspective of the receiver, not the sender. Why should the listener care about what you have to say?

Always … make it personal. They won’t care until they know you do. Tell stories. Use examples from your life. Share experiences. Use humor when it makes sense; laughter creates a powerful bond.

Never … talk too long. Have a strong beginning and a strong ending, and keep them close together. No one says, “I wish she had spoken longer.” Shoot for 15-20 minutes – tops. The Gettysburg Address was three minutes long.

Always … think like a lawyer. State your proposition and make your case. Use facts and examples to prove your point.

Never … let your visuals overshadow you. If you must use slides, keep them simple. Don’t let slides be a crutch and never read from them.

Always … use statistics sparingly. Numbers are powerful, but too many can numb your audience. Choose just a few that will be memorable or surprising. Use comparisons to help your audience relate. “That’s deeper than the Grand Canyon.”

Never … overuse quotes. A few are OK, as long as they’re relevant. As Emerson said, “I hate quotations … tell me what you think.”

Always ... write out loud. Writing for the ear is different than writing for the eye. Keep things simple. Avoid long, complex sentences. Read your worlds aloud - even if it annoys your cube mate.

Help for the exec who can't say 'No'

2009-11-07T09:31:00.000-08:00

I once worked with a Fortune 100 CEO I affectionately called "The CEO who couldn't say no."

He answered to a demanding board. His company had operations, customers and employees in almost every country. He was a smart guy and a dynamic leader. He was a skilled communicator, who truly believed that communicating was a critical part of his job and a means to accomplishing everything in his all-encompassing job description. Great, right?

So here's the downside: He said yes to just about every speaking opportunity his secretary could crowbar into his schedule. Employee meeting in Florida? Yes. Ribbon cutting in India? Sure. A few words at Joe's retirement party? Absolutely! Sales conference, press event, trade show? Yes, yes and yes. Service club meeting in a town in which his company no significant presence? What the heck.

Word spread quickly that he was a willing and capable speaker, so the number of invitations multiplied. With the support of his VP of Communications, I developed a simple Speech Opportunity Evaluation Tool to help separate the wheat from the chaff ... or in this case the important stakeholders from the Rotarians.

The tool helps speakers, communications advisers and speechwriters evaluate speaking opportunities along five dimensions:

1. Audience. Is the audience made up of influential people important to the organization’s success? Is the audience size appropriate (i.e., are we reaching enough people to make it worth the executive’s time?)?

2. Venue. Is this a premium venue (e.g., top conference, forum, university, etc.)? Who else is on the program? Who else has spoken at this forum in the past?

3. Relevant message. Do we have something important and relevant to say on the topic being covered or to the audience assembled? Is the topic important to us? Is the executive an authority on the topic?

4. Ancillary opportunities. Can this speech be merchandised through reprints, publications, web postings, etc., or can valuable publicity be gained through the executive’s participation? Are there other things that the executive can accomplish in the same geographic area as the speaking opportunity (e.g., customer meetings, editorial board meetings, media interviews, employee location visits, etc.)?

5. Availability. Is the executive’s schedule open? If not, how does the importance of this opportunity stack up against other scheduled events? If not, should we consider offering a substitute?

The tool helped us inject a little discipline in the CEO's decision-making process. Sometimes it worked; sometimes he thanked us for our input as he headed out for the Optimist Club luncheon.

Last year I had trouble typing “social media.”

2009-11-06T09:50:00.000-08:00

It kept coming out “SoCal Media,” which was not intended as an editorial comment on the trendiness of these new communications tools. Now I’m blogging.

Today I’m getting ready to attend my fourth major communications conference of 2009. I don’t need to compare the conference programs side-by-side to state with total confidence that social media has been the most popular kid at each of these parties.

No wonder. This new kid is attractive, interesting and a great dancer. But you can’t dance every dance with the same partner, no matter how attractive. Sometimes Justin or Beyonce have the right moves, but sometimes Travolta, Fred or Ginger are better partners.

Some of today’s social media tools are cool. Some are silly. Some are passing fancies and some will become important tools of our trade, as relevant and useful as websites, e-mails, face-to-face and the printed page.

Social media isn’t a silver bullet. It’s not a panacea or a solution to every problem. Just because we can use social media applications doesn’t mean we always should. Social media isn’t the answer. But it can – and should – be evaluated and applied as part of an integrated, multichannel communications strategy.

Between conferences...

2009-10-26T09:09:00.000-07:00

I'm back from the IABC Southern Region Conference in Houston where I spoke in the coveted Saturday morning slot, last session of the conference, right before the brewery tour. Be jealous, ya'll. (Not a bad Texas accent for a kid from Minn-ah-soh-dah).

So it was gratifying that ~20 people turned out to hear my thoughts on how the fundamentals still apply, as time goes by, in the age of social media. Download my whitepaper "Praise the Panacea and Pass the Silver Bullets," if you're so inclined.

I'm looking forward to my first PRSA International Conference in San Diego next week