What I've Learned So Far

This is a topic I covered a while back in a column on showing, rather than telling, your priorities, but here it is in a nutshell . . .

There’s no sense in bothering with excuses — least of all to yourself — for what your priorities have been. Just acknowledge that your behaviors have reflected what your priorities actually were.

Don’t even waste time feeling bad about it, but admit that whatever was most important to you at the time (your goals, your family, your fears, the chance to take the easy road, . . . ) drove your actions down a particular path.

So think back over the past two weeks — just 4% of this year, but a potentially tone-setting 4%. Have your real behaviors reflected your stated priorities?

My assessment for myself:

• Good progress on projects at work.
• So-so effort on athletic training, but not enough planning to account for a super-hectic schedule at the office last week.
• Not at all adequate effort or planning for my own writing projects.

What about you? What paths have you gone down in the past two weeks? Where are you going to move the needle the rest of this month?

Image by Alyson Hurt.

This morning I set a new personal record in the deadlift. That workout was #211 of the year, meaning that I met the goal I set for myself earlier this year.

Three things I’ve figured out from this:

1. 211 workouts is not actually a lot for a year. It’s more than most people do, but in fact I let my myself get distracted by various things during the year, especially when I changed jobs in October.
2. 211 workouts in a year certainly helps you maintain good health, but it’s no guarantee of hitting any certain level of fitness. I’m retooling for next year.
3. I get by with a little help from my friends. I’ve had great support from my workout buddies — in person and online.

So, 212 for 2012? At least. Given the broader fitness goals I’m cooking up, 312 might be more like it.

Stay tuned.

Image source.

When something is legitimately complicated, we have an easy out: we’re not supposed to get it / learn it / master it on the first go, and we can even elicit others’ sympathy for making an effort.

• “You’re reading Ulysses? I’m too scared to even try.”
• “You’re taking organic chem? That would be totally over my head.”
• “You’re implementing a new CRM system? That must be a nightmare.”

It’s an easy out because this this benefit of the doubt may be there even if you’re badly half-assing your efforts at reading Ulysses.

Some people spend far more effort in mastering this strategy than they do in getting the actual work done. The fact that many of them do it subconsciously makes it less wicked, but so much sadder. These poor souls actually believe that life keeps presenting them with challenges that are just too complicated for them to master.

It’s a crock.

If you’re doing something genuinely complex — switching a Fortune 100 company from Oracle to SAP, staging La Traviata at the Met — yes, take steps to deal with the complexities. Build a team, designate leaders in different specialties, hold weekly status meetings, build out Gantt charts, what-have-you. If it’s a complex solo effort, you should still spend a little extra time on organizing to try to get the various threads to come together on time and in good order.

But whether it’s simple or complex, at some point you just have to roll up your sleeves and do the actual thing. The writing, the studying, the construction of the stage sets, the installation of the new hardware. The actual nuts and bolts of the project.

And here’s a thing that some people never get: most of the projects you do in life are only nuts and bolts. Many of them are just a single nut to be tightened onto a single bolt.

When you hit a project like that — you’ve probably had eight of them already today — just pick out a wrench and go to work. In the time it would take you to deconstruct it, worry about it, and organize it, you could have done it and the three next to it.

To review:

1. Let things be as simple as they really are.
2. Organize just enough.
3. Get to work.

It’s not easy — but it is simple.

Photo by Joel Cooper.

Early-morning
weights to make
the blood sing.

Quiet and
still, the air
begs to be
riven by
plate on plate.

Yoga if
it moves you,
or running;
the cold swim;
writing That
Thing which lurks
in shadows
of hurly-
burly days.

Pray, sip, think;
meditate,
prostrate your
Self to some
Thing larger—
or beyond.

Early morning
waits to make.

Image source.

As a creator, especially one with a day job, it’s only too easy to get stuck in the foothills. You do solid work, you earn a measure of respect from people whose respect you crave, and you carve out a safe place for yourself.

But in that safety lies danger — the danger that you’ll never move up into the mountains, that you’ll never explore your limits or the limits of the creative terrain in which you live and work.

Years ago I read something (I forget where) that used this metaphor in talking about a professor who spent his whole career surveying the foothills of the great magnum opus he always planned to write. From many other possible examples, here are just two:

• Arthur Schlesinger, despite his achievements, came to regret that he spent so much time and energy on book reviews and essays during his career; he thought he would have been better served writing more books that tackled big ideas.
• George Plimpton, whom anyone might regard as a success in both writing and life, told a friend, “I could have been a contender. If I hadn’t done The Paris Review, I could have been a major writer.”

Living in the foothills isn’t a bad thing in itself. Plimpton did great work with The Paris Review, his books are enjoyable, and he was a great bon vivant. Schlesinger enjoyed being a public intellectual with broad connections in politics and high society. And I’ve known versions of that nameless academic — fine professors who taught well and influenced generations of students without ever attaining the renown they might have.

But living in the foothills is a terrible thing if your ambitions clearly lie above the treeline. When you want to do Big Work, living in the foothills means dying a little death each day.

(Do I need to tell you that I’m also speaking from personal experience? No? Good.)

What peaks await you?

If you’ve been stuck in the foothills, it’s time to move into the high country. Whether you’re a writer, painter, filmmaker, musician, entrepreneur, artisan . . . it’s time to push yourself.

You don’t know what awaits — and that’s fine. You won’t have the safety of the pastures and meadows you’re used to, or all the psychological comforts of home. But it must be thus. Writing “Babette’s Feast” or painting “Stag at Sharkey’s” doesn’t happen if you remain in the low country.

Life is short. Don’t die wondering what you could have done if you had ever left your home turf and begun climbing.

Lace up your boots and go.

Image by Trey Ratcliff.

Please share in my good news: this week I’m taking on a great new job as a marketing program manager at Socialware.

Besides moving me from one fast-growing startup to another, this transition will put me back in a multifaceted marketing role that’s heavy on the social media. Going to BreakingPoint as content marketing manager last year was a huge step forward in my career, but the nature of the BreakingPoint product and market means there isn’t a great need for social-media expertise there — especially since both Pam O’Neal and Kyle Flaherty, my BreakingPoint bosses, are plenty social-savvy themselves.

Many thanks to Pam and Kyle for bringing me on board at BreakingPoint and teaching me so much over the past 15 months. I’ve made many friends in the company, and gotten to learn the ins and outs of the network security industry.

Now I’m looking forward to immersing myself in the financial services sector while tackling new challenges alongside Socialware’s marketing director, Christie Campbell, and my old friend and social-media crony Mike Langford. From what I’ve gathered in my visits to Socialware, I’ll have a few dozen more new friends in no time.

Finally, a big thank you to all my friends and family who have taken an active interest in my career. I hope you know how grateful I am for all you do.

Earlier this year, I proclaimed my goal to get in 211 workouts during 2011. As of today, I’ve done 156 workouts, leaving me with 55 to do in the remaining 69 days of the year.

(Side note: where the hell did 2011 go? I was sure I had most of it here just a minute ago . . . )

This goal should be easy to hit, but it’s best not to take it for granted: I’ll be bearing down hard over the next month to bring it in range.

At the moment, I’m plotting my workouts for the fall and winter based on Jim Wendler’s 5/3/1 powerlifting program. I’ll let you know how that goes. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve been putting up personal bests in the bench press and deadlift, so I’m on a firm footing for the rest of the year.

What are you doing with your training these days?

Image source.

“A year after I’d stopped waking up in the middle of the night,
consumed with remorse, I wanted new failures.
I was tired of the same old regret.“

My college friend Sarah Hepola has been writing for Salon for a while now. Her recent article, “When I finally stopped going to bars,” demonstrates why. For my money, the sentences quoted above will stand with anybody’s.

You’ll do yourself a favor to give Sarah a read.

Photo by Lauren Polinsky.

The Austin Independent School District starts next Monday. You can imagine how stoked my kids are for this.

A.I.S.D. has had a slew of challenges over the past year or two. Some of these are common to school districts across Texas, and they can be summed up under the heading “Way Less Money.” My sister, who’s an educator in a suburb of Dallas, has faced the same kind of trouble, as has the sister of a coworker who feels lucky that she’ll be commuting only an hour each way to her job as a first-year teacher. At both of them have a job, which is more than many Texas teachers can say.

But some many of the Austin district’s troubles are self-inflicted, especially in the area of public relations. My wife has been a PTA officer for one of our children’s schools for the past couple of years, which has given her a great view of the unfolding train wreck that is our superintendent’s record of decision-making. Possibly many things are being handled expertly, and it’s only red-letter failures like the botched school closure plan that are drawing all the attention. But somehow I don’t think so.

Even If You’re Not in Business, You’re Still in Marketing

My lack of faith in the current A.I.S.D. leadership was reinforced by the e-mail that hit my inbox on Thursday night. I’ll preface my dissection of it by making a general point that seems to be lost on too many people, especially in the public and not-for-profit sector: if your organization does something that any slice of the public cares about, the organization needs good marketing.

I say “marketing” rather than “public relations” or “community relations” or “communications” to emphasize something: even our most essential public institutions have to sell themselves in the marketplace of ideas and money today.

Why? Because if the Austin school system doesn’t sell itself well, more parents will see to it that their kids go to school in suburban districts, or at private schools. More citizens will complain about their tax dollars going to waste, and these complaints may eventually lead to even less money for A.I.S.D. Given the anti-tax and anti-government rhetoric that many Texans (among others) carry in their back pocket at all times, those arguments find a bigger audience with each passing year.

All of this is bad news for the school system, and in the long run it’s bad for the city, too. Given all these realities, much less the controversies that have beset A.I.S.D. the past couple of years, the school district ought to be making every little detail count. Alas.

“Who Are You? What’s This Even About?”

Which brings me to the details of the e-mail that I and many thousands of my fellow citizens received the other night, which appalled me as a marketer. Sure, it’s just one e-mail. But it represents a key missed opportunity to do a small thing right in a way that could lead to other good things.

Back to School 2011-12

That was the subject line in my Gmail. “What is this?,” I thought. “A sales flyer?” I honestly thought it might be a promotion from Zappos or something. Seeing the sender — “Dept. of Public Relations and Multicultural Outrea” [sic] — didn’t help much, either.

It makes me think of two things. First, I wonder if the A.I.S.D. folks who composed this e-mail gave a moment’s thought to the overflow in most people’s inboxes. We’re all winnowing messages on the go, deleting anything we can get away with not reading. Marketers run through brick walls to come up with subject lines and greetings and so on that will hook people immediately, because we know it’s a challenge to get people even to look at your e-mail before deleting it.

The crazy part is that I’d be happy to read something from A.I.S.D. to kick off the school year. I take a strong interest in my kids’ education. I know the district isn’t going to try to sell me something. Yet they didn’t even think to put “A.I.S.D.” at the start of the subject line.

Which brings me to the second thing. I spent several years in the Hoover’s editorial department, where the editors are constantly poring over companies’ annual reports. We used to see dozens of A.R.’s per week. Some of my colleagues and I would joke about the companies who titled these PDFs things like “2003ARcomplete” or “AnnualReportFY2003.” The smart companies, by contrast, would use titles like “GeneralElectric2003AnnRpt” or “IntelAnnualReport2003.” Apparently, it just doesn’t cross some people’s minds to put the name of the firm right up front. But it should.

Hello. This is a message from the Austin Independent School District to welcome your child to a new school year.

This is going to be a great year! And parents, we need you to join forces with us to make this a successful year for you and your family.

One of the ways you can support your child’s success is to make sure he or she attends school, all day, every day. Because every day counts. Attendance increases student achievement, improves the quality of your child’s educational experience, and it prepares them for college, good careers, and successful adulthood.

Okay, I get it. They have to send this to tens of thousands of parents, many of whom don’t have the focus on education that my wife and I do, so they’re keeping it basic. (I would have liked better copy-editing, but I can live with it.)

I am also asking you to help your child in little ways as well… These may seem small but their impact is huge!  Get them to bed on time, feed them a good breakfast and set up a dedicated space for them to do their homework everyday…and most importantly, ensure that they are reading!  In the early years, our students learn to read. But in later years they must read to learn! It impacts learning in all other subject areas.  We all need to make sure our children are reading—every day. So grab some good books from the library and start encouraging them!

As for the overall message, it’s fine. A teacher friend of mine was a specialist for A.I.S.D. one year, visiting the homes of children who were struggling academically. Things like getting a good breakfast and having a well-lit place to study were far from common in many of these families. I do wonder how well an e-mail like this would start a family down the road of regular library use, but who knows — it might nudge some people in the right direction.

But who is “I” in this paragraph? The reader hasn’t been introduced to anyone. Hold that thought as we hit the homestretch . . .

Please remember that Every Day Counts.

And don’t forget: school starts NEXT Monday, August 22nd!

See you at school!

Thank you and have a great school year!

Well, we had been told that “every day counts” above, but I didn’t realize it was “Every Day Counts.” Is that a motto that they’re trying to get across? Apparently it is, given that the district held a student contest last year to come up with public service announcements promoting school attendance. The announcement of the contest winners included this statement:

“Improving student attendance is a key component of the District’s Strategic Plan and is a top priority for the 2010-2011 school year. AISD is working with students, families, and the community to ensure regular school attendance and improve academic achievement.”

It’s easy to see why steady school attendance is important, so why didn’t they use this e-mail to link me to their page describing the “Every Day Counts” initiative? That would have been a good opportunity for the tiniest bit of integrated marketing — one medium reinforcing another — but they missed it . . .

. . . maybe because they have no such page to point to. As far as I can tell, “Every Day Counts” is a tagline they’ve used a time or two, but there are only minimal references to it on the school district’s site. You’d think that they would make it a mantra, possibly with its own real estate on their home page. But no.

Missed Opportunities Everywhere You Look

The rest of the e-mail is just an overkill of one-liners. It’s the sort of thing you come up with in a first draft as you’re trying out different ideas. You leave them all in only so you can shuffle them around to come up with something better. In this case, improving the e-mail could have been as simple as putting “And don’t forget . . .” in the same paragraph as “Please remember . . .” (the thoughts are pretty strongly linked), and then eliminating “Thank you and have a great school year!” altogether.

“See you at school!” would have been fine as a friendly sign-off, but cutting “. . . have a great school year” would also help keep me from suspecting that this is the last I’m going to hear from A.I.S.D. — or, rather, from our mystery correspondent at A.I.S.D. — for a while.

The note definitely needed a personal signoff from the superintendent, the director of curriculum, the director of community relations, or whoever the “I” was who wrote the e-mail. There was no attribution of the e-mail to any person, which represents another missed opportunity from a marketer’s perspective.

Beyond that, though, this note could have been the opening of an ongoing communication from the district to me. Maybe they could tell me more in a few weeks about how attendance numbers have been really good, or about how a new program is helping kids with their reading. But I’m guessing that I’ll hear from A.I.S.D. haphazardly.

The moral of my story is simple: if it’s worth saying — especially in an e-mail that goes out to tens of thousands of people — it’s worth saying well. If you have to communicate to that many people, you’re in marketing, whether you know it or not.

Given how much respect I have for A.I.S.D.’s teachers and my children’s schools, I just wish the district had done a better job of it.

Photo by Robb North.

More tweet-length stories:

She knew the existential hunger wouldn’t be sated by any of her usual distractions. But she could not help herself.

~ ~ ~

“Is it ever going to change?”
“…No.”
“Then why keep acting like it will?”
“…Because I can’t stop wanting it.”

~ ~ ~

He liked her looks, and the way she commanded a room from the podium. But her repeated use of “utilize” was a deal-breaker.

~ ~ ~

He wanted to ask out the cute blonde in the cutoffs. But he was not the type of guy who asked out cute blondes in cutoffs.

~ ~ ~

He wanted his move to Brooklyn to change his narrative. But even after the outbreak, he hadn’t envisioned Hipsters vs. Zombies.

~ ~ ~

When the band started warming up, he found out the skinny girl in the flannel shirt was the shred guitarist. His heart thumped.

~ ~ ~

“Please.”
That’s all she said.
He turned away.

~ ~ ~

“That was amazing.”
“Yep.”
“I think that might be the answer to world peace.”
“I don’t think so.”
“We could try it.”
She giggled.

~ ~ ~

She came into the bar and laid eyes on him. She was everything he had ever wanted. As she had been for 40 years.

~ ~ ~

She had strong opinions about the project, and was sure they were going down the wrong path. But she had mouths to feed. #tinystory

~

Previously:

• Tiny Stories, Part 7

Image by JD Hancock.