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What’s so great about being in your 40′s

I was talking with a good friend (are there any other kind?) the other day, and we were discussing work and the various challenges we were facing. And he said, “You’re in your 40′s, you’re supposed to be challenged.” I laughed, but later, that comment stuck with me. Most of the articles I read about being in your 40′s are related to the crappy stuff: what you can’t wear anymore, things you can’t do anymore because you’re of ’a certain age’ now, exercising for your age, blah blah blah.

How come no one talks about the good stuff that can happen once you cross over to the land of 40? Here are five positive things I’ve noticed kicked in this decade:

1. Lower bullshit tolerance. I’ve found that the older I get, the less bullshit I am willing to tolerate. Toxic people, bad behavior, activities I participated in for other people not myself…I don’t have time or patience for it anymore. Maybe it’s because you realize in your 40′s that half your life is behind you and you never know how much more is in front of you, so why waste it on people or things you don’t like?

2. Higher empathy quotient. I’ve always been an overachiever, and in expecting a lot from myself, I think I expected too much from others, too. Maybe it’s because I’m a mom and I see how this approach doesn’t work with kids. Maybe it’s because I have a child who has ADHD and I see him struggle to overcome his challenges. Maybe it’s watching my dad struggle a little more as he approaches 80 years old. Whatever it is, I’ve learned to slow down, listen when people talk and try to hear between the lines, and try to understand where they’re coming from. We’re all doing the best we can.

3. More patience. While my bullshit tolerance has gone down, I think I have gained a little more patience. I’ve never been good at that, but between juggling work, kids, and life, you drop a few balls sometimes…so you have to learn to roll with the punches. I’ve forgotten picture day at school, shown up at meetings with Cheerios in my hair (from the babies, not me!), and once went to an event with a lollipop stuck to the back of my skirt (thanks kids for leaving that on my front seat for me!) It makes me much more understanding when things don’t go as planned.

4. More inward focus, less outward. I don’t know about you, but the older I get, the more I find myself seeking out things that will make me more balanced on the inside. Finding more meaning in my creative work, forging deeper connections with people I care about, letting go of the past so I can see what’s in front of me…all of these things matter more to me today than they ever did before.

5. More incentive to stay strong. Let’s face it, after 40+ years on the planet, you’ve experienced everything from the death of loved ones to job loss to money woes, illness, kid drama and everything in between. It can make you feel 100 years old — if you let it. And it’s hard to watch older relatives struggle with illness and age-related issues. If you’ve ever seen what cancer or Alzheimer’s can do to someone you love, you know what I mean. It inspires me to eat healthier, work out more and try to take better care of myself so that I can stay strong for the long haul.

So maybe I am wearing all the wrong things for my age, but I’m still learning, I’m still challenging myself, and I’m doing the best I can. What do you say? What’s great about your 40′s? Or was there another decade that was even better for you?

7 comebacks for why you are not writing or finishing your book that just might trigger you to start writing again

Published May 23, 2011 Creative Life , Creative Writing , Fun , Work Life 1 Comment
Tags: fun ways to start writing again, get writing again, I can't finish my book, kickstart your writing, when you can't finish your book, when you're not writing, why you're not writing, writer's block

Let’s say you are a writer and that, at some point, you have told your friends or family that you wanted to or were writing a book. Chances are pretty good that someone at some point has asked you how said book is going, if you are still writing, are you published, or another variation on, “Well, when the hell are you going to finish that thing already?!”

Now, we all assume that these kind-hearted souls are trying to be supportive. But let’s say that the moment they ask you this, your writing or otherwise so-called creative life is as off track as your exercise life, and you feel like you’ve been caught by your Weight Watchers sponsor on the couch with a box of doughnuts in one hand and a super size DQ Blizzard in the other while watching Biggest Loser.

I feel your pain.

Now pass me a Long John because I have good news. Since I am very busy not writing my book right this minute, I have concocted 7 snappy little comebacks you can whip out when people ask you if you are writing, finishing or publishing your book. And the best part is, most of them are actually writerly exercises in disguise, which may or may not prompt you to start writing again.

So the next time anyone asks why you are not writing or finishing your book, you will respond:

I am not writing or finishing my book because…

1. “I have never recovered from…” You can either finish this statement with a fictional disaster–being raised by a wild pack of roosters–or simply shake your head and wave the person away for it is simply too awful to contemplate let alone speak of it. Every time someone asks you why you haven’t finished your project, it implies that there is something wrong with you. No one likes failed expectations. So give the people what they really want: a chance to speculate on what is wrong with you. Is it a disease? Is there a cheating spouse? Is this a manifestation of something terrible that happened in childhood? (Cue the roosters.) This can lead to juicy gossip and if you’re lucky, even better fiction than you could have dreamed up alone on the couch slurping your DQ Blizzard.

2. “I’m swamped at the alpaca farm!” Sometimes, you have to lie to get people off your back. And that’s OK, because we’re writers, we make sh*t up all the time. Consider it writing practice! It’s good for you to flex your tall tale muscles as often as possible. Just make sure it’s a VERY tall tale, because if you start mumbling about being busy with work and the kids and laundry blah blah blah, people will hassle you because you have disappointed them (see failed expectations in comeback #1). If you’re a writer, you had better have a damn good excuse for not writing. So you need a distraction. You need to lie.

If you’re very good at it, they will forget about the book and become fascinated with your new life on the alpaca farm. And you just might have a new story on your hands.

3. “I can’t live without the anticipation.” You can follow this up by stating that unlike the rest of the world, you rather enjoy waiting–at the doctor’s office, at the vet, in line at the bank, and especially at Six Flags Great America and Disneyland. On Christmas morning, you are the last one to open your gifts. Sometimes you even wait until the next Christmas to open them. Waiting is the best part and you’ve got nothin’ but time. You are one big Heinz Ketchup bottle of Anticipation, baby. Bring it!

4. “I’m afraid success may change me.” Everyone already knows what it feels like to fail–personally, I have the editors’ rejection letters to prove it. But if you write a Harry Potter or Twilight and knock it out of the park, there is a 50/50 chance you might become one of those doomed “The Lottery Changed My Life” people and end up drinking yourself to death in a motel room in Vegas, broke and alone, while the few people who actually remember you say, “Wow, if only she hadn’t hit success with that big fat book, she might still be here today, giving us gambling money.”

Hopefully by the time you explain this, people will have moved on to the slot machine and you and your failed expectations will be long forgotten. If not, see “You need a distraction” in #3. I recommend yelling, “Tequila shots for everyone? Wow, thanks <insert friend’s name here>.” (Be sure to invite me if you’re going to use that one.)

5. ”I am currently extrapolating the dilemma of good vs. evil in a postmodern yet dialectic society that is analogous to Planet of the Apes.” You will probably only have to add one more nonsensical sentence before the audience’s eyes glaze over. All they will remember is the last thing you said, Planet of the Apes, and this is good because it acts as a transitional element for them to change the conversation to anything other than your writing.

This will be good practice for you if you have not done a reading in front of a live audience. It’s important to know exactly where in your writing people tuned out. WARNING: This is probably the best way to ensure that someone NEVER asks you about your book or your writing again, so use it wisely.

6. “But sweetie, writing takes me away from you for far too long!” Add a sweet smile at the end and you might just get lucky. But if you don’t, or you’re just pissed off and sick of people asking you about your damn writing, go with #7:

7. “My book is about you.” Immediately let out a forlorn sigh and stare off in the distance as if you are struggling with a mighty dilemma. At that point, the other person will either A. slap you, B. call a lawyer, C. cry, D. slap you again, or E. all of the above. Which means–you guessed it–you need a distraction. See “tequila shots” in #4.

And that’s it my friends, seven snappy, snarky little comebacks you can whip out at a moment’s notice when you are caught red-handed, not writing. Perhaps you have been inspired by all of these exciting potential confrontations. If so, get back to your chair and start writing again. If not, I say go for the tequila. There’s always a good story after tequila.

Celebrating Mother’s Day when Mom’s not there

Published May 6, 2011 Creative Families , Creative Life , Essays , Holidays 2 Comments
Tags: celebrating Mother's Day, I miss my mom, Mother's Day essay, Mother's Day ideas, mother's day without mom

We all know what moms are supposed to be: patient, kind and loving. They are supposed to know how to sing lullabies and kiss boo-boo’s. They are supposed to cook and clean and decorate cupcakes like it’s nobody’s business. They are supposed to work hard at home and at work and be good friends, good daughters, good sisters and aunts. But most importantly?

They are supposed to be there.

Moms should be there when it counts: at our sporting events and school plays. For our first kiss, first job, first marriage. Moms should be there when you become a mom and join the ‘hood. They should be there for every baby thereafter. Moms should be there forever.

But what happens when they’re not? What do you do when they leave or get sick or die? What do you do when they are there but disconnected, in a “lights are on but nobody’s there” way? What do you do when they are there but you wish they weren’t? And then Mother’s Day comes along, with its high expectations for a Norman Rockwell (or should I say Normal Rockwell) day?

My mom died on March 18, 1994. It was six months before my wedding. By the time her cancer was diagnosed, it was too late, but we didn’t know it then, my sister, father and I. We didn’t have Google or WebMD then; hope was all we had. But that was a long time ago, right? I’m done with that, right? With two kids of my own now, Mother’s Day should be a snap. Right??

But what I am learning is that when there are all these things a mom is supposed to be, you are never “done” coming to terms with the loss of a parent. Your grief merely changes shape over time. My mom and I did not always see eye to eye. She died before I really came into my own as a person, so I like to think that we would have become friends. But I’ll never really know.

I am (mostly) OK with this. I don’t cry anymore on Mother’s Day. I don’t choke up anymore when I see a mother and daughter walking in the mall who look so alike there is no doubt they are mother/daughter. But seeing my older sister being a grandparent to her grandchildren, I feel the sadness and loss of what my children will never experience. When my elderly neighbors invite their adult children and the grandchildren over for Sunday dinner, there is something about the sight of the grey-haired couple standing on their porch stoop, waving goodbye as everyone backs out of the driveway…it’s the sting of what will never be.

I know what a mom is supposed to be. But here’s what my mom really was: she insisted on family dinners every Sunday. She wore her hair in a beehive long after it ceased being fashionable (it was once, right?). She never got her hair wet in the pool and she could sew a pantsuit like it was nobody’s business. She made the best homemade chicken noodle soup. She loved McDonald’s but maybe Long John Silver’s a little more. She read People magazine and The Star and Enquirer. She loved Elizabeth Taylor. She told me I could go to college someday, even though no one else in our family, herself included, had ever gone.

When she died, I didn’t know how to be a wife or mother. She was a buffer between being a kid and a grown-up and when she died, it was like the earth cracked open and I lost everything, myself included. But here’s the thing: I got stronger, too.

I learned how to decorate a house and order window treatments. I never learned how to sew but I did learn that a tailor and a dry cleaner work even better. I learned how to cook for 20 and make pie crusts from scratch. I learned that life is short and tomorrow doesn’t always come, so I finished my grad school application and got that MFA I’d been thinking about. I learned that if I wanted something, I was going to have to get it for myself. And while I missed Mom’s stamp of approval on my life, there is something liberating about charting your own course, free of someone else’s idea of what it should look like. My life felt more real because I had more at stake and no one to blame but me if I failed.

I remember after one particularly bitter fight when I was about 12, my mom gave me a long look and said, “You’re going to write about this some day, aren’t you?” I gave her my best eye roll and a snotty ‘tween look, but deep down, we both knew she was right. Dammit.

Miss you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.

What your email signature says about you

Published April 18, 2011 Fun , Marketing 8 Comments
Tags: brand identity in email signatures, do email signatures matter, email signature, how not to sign emails, how to sign off emails

As a writer, I notice little things. As a marketer, I notice little things, too. One of the biggest little things I am actually paid to notice is your email signature–the way you sign your emails as well as the block of information that may or may not be included after it. People like me are sometimes referred to, semi-jokingly, as the “brand police” who send fellow employees notes about how their email signature is “not in compliance” with the corporate standard, i.e., no Dilbert cartoons on email sigs, buddy!

You can tell a lot by how someone signs their email. Here are four of the most common signatures I come across, see if any of these sound familiar:

1. The Initialer. You only sign emails with initials: first initial only, first and last initial only, or the first, middle and last initial. My favorite letter is a little “e,” it always makes me laugh. I have also seen a double EE, which makes me think of the word “EEK!” I would like to change my name to Quinn or Quest so I can sign my emails “Q” which is infinitely more interesting that “c.” My cousin Barb S., a professional clown, can sign her emails BS. That’s fine for clowns, but certainly not the rest of us.

This is like being Keisha, Cher and Madonna–you are so popular and famous, you don’t need a full name. That’s for boring, average people. Do you think Lady GaGa signs her emails LGG or LG? Or just “ga” ? Maybe she’s “The Ga,” like The Godfather. Oh, who are we kidding, she doesn’t email, that’s for average worker bees like us.

2. The Tagliner. You feel compelled to include a phrase, quote or other message after your signature. Often, employed folks come up with their own snappy taglines–which makes the marketing folks roll their cynical marketing eyes and bemoan to the marketing gods, WHY?? Why do they try to write their own taglines when we have a perfectly acceptable brand tagline that we spent 700 hours and 97 rounds of review on?

The most annoying of all? The uber-positive tagline. “Have a super-duper positive absolutely best day of your life, Mr. Sunshiney Face!” Often accompanied by an emoticon smiley face. *sigh* These days, emails are mostly a big fat to-do: something you should do, something you need to do, something you will never do, or something you don’t want to do but will probably do at some point when someone sends you enough emails telling you to do it. So please, don’t tell me to be happy about it, OK?

3. The Lonely Signature. You either don’t sign your emails or you sign it with your name only–no quotes, no taglines, no info. Who are you hiding from? And why are you not taking advantage of this fabulous opportunity to tell us who you are? Oh, right, you’re a “private” person. Sorry, we missed that Facebook status update. And the tweet. And your foursquare location update. Our bad!

4. The jpeg-inator. You simply must have a .jpeg or .png photo in your email signature, despite all advice to the contrary. It could be your cat, your favorite beetle, a logo, or maybe even your entire block of Follow Us icons. So every time you send an email, the code behind those links breaks apart, resulting in this messy business:

We also see six attachments on your email, five of which are pictures while the sixth is the Very Important File you wanted us to review immediately, which we didn’t see on account of it’s buried amid five other attachments.

So go ahead. Tell us about your favorite email signature.

Sincerely, your friend in all things bloggy and brand-y and super duper fun,
c

postscript: exactly eight days after this post, my son–relatively new to cell phones and texting–sent me a text and signed it for the first time. With his first, middle and last initial. For the record, he does not read my blog.

How to stop hating someone who is more successful than you?

Published April 4, 2011 Copywriting , Creative Life , Creative Writing , Work Life 6 Comments
Tags: book envy, creative jealousy, I hate you, jealous of success, why I can't write, why I stopped writing, writing envy, writing success

So last weekend I’m at the bookstore–remember those? so quaint! so old-fashioned!–checking out the Best American Essays and short story collections when I see it: a black soft cover book with cool illustrations in embossed ink on the cover. The kind you just don’t see anymore on books (or maybe you do only it doesn’t look as cool on an iPad or Kindle or the Nookie, as my technology virgin sister calls the Nook).

I picked up the book. Cool illustrations, cool title. And then I see the author’s name and I think: A**HOLE!!

I know. Hardly my proudest moment. But it’s the first thing that popped into my head, unprompted, unwanted, unexpected. No, he wasn’t an ex-lover who did me wrong. It’s much, much worse. We were in graduate school together, he’s younger than me, he’s had three books published and is a professor of fiction. He’s everything I thought I wanted to be when I grew up. Every. Single. Damn. Thing.

Jerk.

Three books! All with similarly cool titles! The kind I wish I’d thought of! And quirky, deep characters! With interesting plot lines that peel back life layer by layer! And best of all, prose that I admire, with sentences and descriptions I read twice or more just because they were THAT good!

*sigh*

He has glowing recommendations from the New York Book Review, the New York Times, blah blah blah. And he deserves every single bit of praise. So why do I hate him? Where is all this hostility coming from, anyway?

Wasn’t I the one who, just two weeks ago, responded to someone who asked if I still wrote fiction ‘on the side’ that “my day job writing is enough for me?” Wasn’t it moi who told a friend I was OK with not picking up where I left off on my last book because I feel like I’ve said everything I wanted to say??

I don’t really hate this guy, but for the sake of my sanity and for fun, let’s call him BoBo. I actually like BoBo. He was very nice in the classes we had together; he accepted praise for his work with humility; to pay for school, he worked a couple of menial, low-paying jobs that gave him time to write. BoBo was smart, funny, and wicked with words on the page even back then. Everyone liked him. Even me.

I don’t regret him an ounce of his success. (Mostly.) It’s just funny, because every time I think I’ve finally gotten to the point in my life where it’s OK if I’m not writing, BoBo pops up with an interview in the literary section of the Chicago Tribune, or at an alumni reading, or on the damn bookshelf in my local bookstore, or winning yet another literary contest, reminding me of something I left behind that maybe–just maybe–I’m not ready to leave yet.

Damn you, Bobo.

Years ago, I remember asking an older copywriter (40-something, ha ha! I thought that was so old when I was 23) that I worked with whether she still wrote fiction or poetry. She said, “Nah. I finally gave myself permission to let that go, and I’ve been much happier ever since.” As I get “older,” I come back to her answer now and again, thinking–is this the year I can cut myself some slack? Is this the year I’ll be able to let go of what feels like an outdated dream so I can move on to something else or just be happy with where I am?

And then I see another book or interview with BoBo and I want to rip his eyes out all over again. This can’t be healthy. After I calm down, I realize, wait, maybe I do want to go back to that book project. Maybe there was something to that short story I abandoned like last night’s leftovers. Maybe there is still hope for me to write more of my own words and less of someone else’s. Maybe I can see BoBo and congratulate him on his hard-earned success instead of bemoaning my unfinished business.

It’s different too because, at 42, I’m halfway through my life (if I’m lucky and don’t get hit by a bus tomorrow, in which case, this would be a crappy last blog post, I would prefer to go out on a high note not some rambling bitch fest). If I want this to happen, I need to get on it already. Or let it go gracefully.

Am I the only one who feels this way? I can’t be. There are millions of people out in the world–that’s a lot of unfulfilled, unrealized dreams haunting the universe. Sure, OK, we all make choices. I remember the moment in my sophomore year in college when I switched majors from creative writing to professional writing, thinking–I want to be able to support myself and never have to rely on anyone else ever again. And I like to eat, so I better do something where I can actually get paid. Fortunately, I realized this dream–being able to support my family with my words in today’s unpredictable business landscape feels less like a dream and more like a gift. But it was my choice. And it was a good one, for me and for my family.

So I’ve decided that starting today, I’m going to try to stop beating myself up, redirect my anger, stop hating on BoBo, and revisit my personal writing projects. I’m also going to read BoBo’s latest book and see what that crafty little devil is up to now that will inspire me. And maybe secretly I hope that every time I loosen my grip on my dream, BoBo will pop up again, reminding me of what’s important and why it matters that I pay attention when I get so damn pissed off about something. Reminding me that maybe I have something left to say after all. Or at the very least, that I can someday see his name on a book cover and think, “Way to go, BoBo!” and not, ”Again?? You bastard!”

Post script: As I checked out, the clerk looked over the cover of the book and said, “Interesting.” I said, “Definitely. I went to school with that guy. He’s really good.” Would have never happened if I’d just downloaded it on my Nookie.

When you trust your words to an editor

Published March 1, 2011 Copywriting , Creative Life , Work Life Leave a Comment
Tags: working with an editor, writing anxiety, writing for business, writing process, writing review

Tonight as I sat editing an article for a senior VP in another country, I thought–what a leap of faith. I had met this executive briefly once, many months ago. She was now trusting her words and ideas to me, a complete stranger other than the testimonials she’d heard from others about my work.

We all need to have our work reviewed by others at some point. I have to do it all the time. As a writer, my work is often reviewed by layers of people: other editors, sales people, senior leaders, rounds of nameless, faceless business units, marketing directors, legal teams, objective third parties, you name it.

But the review that’s toughest? When I am reading from my own fiction in front of an audience. It is nerve-wracking. I always start off talking too fast. Sometimes I hyperventilate (although I’ve never passed out, I’ve come close). Somewhere along the way, usually around paragraph 2, I find my rhythm. I speak slower, closer to the truth of the characters and the heart of the story. I finish strong.

But getting there–getting to the writing that is clear, strong, and just plain working–is a process. It’s a leap of faith that everyone who is reviewing it for you or with you is adding something that will help you get where you need to go. It requires trust and hope and a willingness to embrace revision for what it is: necessary, vital and good.

I’d like to thank everyone who has ever reviewed my work with an eagle’s eye, spotting inconsistencies, explaining inaccuracies, and verifying facts. I’d especially like to thank everyone who’s every said anything even remotely nice about my writing. We all need encouragement and support in this precarious process when words aren’t always quite right the first time around.

But most of all, I’d like to thank everyone who has ever trusted their words and ideas to my care. I am always in awe of the courage it takes to put words on paper, hit send and hope for the best.

I know exactly how you feel.

Keep writing!

What the new JCPenney logo should do–but can’t

Published February 24, 2011 Brand , Design , Marketing 5 Comments
Tags: brand design, brand identity, brand refresh, brand strategy, changing your brand, JCPenney brand, jcpenney logo, logo design, marketing strategies, marketing your business

When JCPenney announced that they were changing their logo, my first question was what it looked like. My second question was who designed it. I was disappointed to learn that the company had a contest for the logo redesign. Yep, they got it for free:

To choose a new logo design, jcpenney sought submissions that reflect a wide range of perspectives. Participants included the Company’s associates, several design agencies and two art schools – University of Cincinnati and Rhode Island School of Design – that collectively submitted over 200 designs for consideration. The winning design was provided by Luke Langhus, a third-year graphic design student at the University of Cincinnati, who chose to reintroduce jcpenney’s iconic red box – a symbol he has long associated with the national retailer. Langhus developed a versatile logo that preserves the Company’s namesake but can be modified to showcase the “jcp” independently, given his intent to ensure it would resonate with constantly-connected digital consumers who often use abbreviations.

Wow. Abbreviations!! I’ll totally shop there now! And when did the University of Cincinnatti with 304 programs of study become known as an art school, let alone one that is on par with the Rhode Island School of Design?

While I’m happy for Langhus, I disagree with a company using a contest to solicit free work. It makes great press, but it sets a bad precedent. A brand is three-dimensional, full of substance, personality and authenticity. Any changes should be made thoughtfully, carefully and for good reason. It shouldn’t become a corporate MBA’s idea of a “social” experience. At least they announced it rather than just spring it on us–we all learned from the Gap’s mistakes. (BTW, my favorite analysis of the Gap debacle is this FastCompany blog post by brand identity expert David Brier. The comments are spot on, as well.)

I’m a writer, not a graphic designer, although I have partnered with designers for 20+ years on brand initiatives. But if you’re interested in a straight design perspective, check out this insightful post, A Penney for Your Thoughts, by graphic designer Armin Vit. So while I do like the use of the red box and the fresher approach to “jcp,” I don’t care for the way “enney” floats by itself in a sea of white space. Maybe it’s the writer in me, but I don’t think people should have to think too hard about a word when they see it in text or graphics. It’s a distraction–and it detracts. Here’s the explanation provided by the press release:

The jcpenney logo puts greater visual emphasis on a new, lowercase “jcp” by positioning it slightly off-centered in a red box while still featuring the Company’s signature red color and Helvetica font. The logo was designed to evoke a sense of movement and discovery as the letters appear to break out of the box, symbolizing an emergence into an exciting, new future.

I know brand-speak hype when I hear it. I also know movement when I see it–and no offense, but I don’t see movement in this new logo. I see “enney.” And Helvetica. Wow! Original. (Here’s a good quick post on that topic that sums up the Helvetica dilemma: Writing for Designers: Helvetica, overused?)

And as far as “symbolizing an emergence into an exciting, new future,” I think–at JCPenney?? The last item I purchased there was a pair of slippers for my husband’s 98-year-old grandfather, a former farmer. I bought them online from JCPenney–oops, sorry, jcpenney (wow, see the big difference!?)–because I knew it was the only store nearby his rural town where his caregiver could physically go to return or exchange them. (He doesn’t have a computer and has no idea what Zappos is.)

See, this is where the whole “brand redesign contest” approach falls apart. Because any brand strategist worth their salt knows that words like “exciting new future” and “break out of the box” are not associated with the JCPenney or jcpenney brand. It’s a place to buy clothes and household goods at a value. It’s been around for a long time. My older relatives shop there. Enough said.

Unless jcpenney is radically changing their strategy, their stores or their products, a refresh of their logo–that’s what this really is–is not going to change much about the perceptions of people who do or don’t shop there. It’s not going to differentiate jcpenney from JCPenney or Target or Kohl’s or any of their competitors. And while I am a big fan of all lowercase letters and names, displaying JCPenney as jcpenney doesn’t up the cool factor. It doesn’t make it more “social.” It doesn’t compel me to shop there. And it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still the same old JCPenney: more expensive than Wal-Mart. Less cool than Target. Old and irrelevant.

So if you or anyone you know has ever uttered the words “Hey, I know! Let’s have a logo contest!”, ask these five essential brand strategy questions first:

1. Why are you changing your brand identity?
2. Why are you changing it now–and why should we care?
3. What do you hope to accomplish?
4. Who are you trying to reach (if you say everyone, you’re in trouble)?
5. How are you going to support your new brand “promise”–not just in your logo and your press release–but everywhere: inside and out, top to bottom?

Maybe I’m not in jcpenney’s target audience. And I definitely haven’t seen their rationale. But I don’t see anything to get excited about here. I guess it proves one thing: you get what you pay for.

What do you think? Comment or cast your vote.

The greatest Valentine’s Day gift: make fun of someone you love today

Published February 14, 2011 Creative Life , Essays , Fun , Social Commentary 3 Comments
Tags: love and laughter, making fun of love ones, Valentine's Day essays, Valentine's Day fun, Valentine's Day gifts

So my husband and I were having a…discussion the other day about my apparent need to tease him. Now, I don’t go out of my way to mock him. I don’t get sarcastically mean or tear him down in front of other people, nothing like that. But I do like to point out his…idiosyncracies.

For example, Hubby despises mayonnaise. He tells everyone he’s allergic to it. (We all know this is not possible.) He also despises when I defrost frozen meat in the microwave and then cook it. (He claims he can taste the difference.) These are little things, but they are the little wacky things that make him…my Hubby and not someone else’s. I am endeared by his charming quirks.

That’s exactly why I joke around with him about it. I notice these things because I love him. And how do I show affection to people I love? I make fun of then. Or rather, I make fun WITH them. It’s a long, storied family tradition. Joking around and affectionate teasing go all the way back to my grandmother on my father’s side. One of my relative’s on that side is a professional clown, for God’s sake.

Whenever I get together with my family, we all joke around, teasing each other, making fun of ourselves (we can dish it AND take it), but mostly, laughing. A lot. Of course, like a lot of people, we’ve had struggles: cancer, unemployment, marital distress, financial trouble. But we as a family have always used humor to keep us on track. To keep us sane. To make life fun no matter how dark the world may be. That’s when we all need a little lightness.

Last night, as my husband fended me off from joking about his hunt-and-peck method of typing, I told him the truth: I love you, therefore I tease you. I only reserve my joking and kidding for people I really, really care about. If I didn’t love him, I explain, I would never laugh at him OR with him. But mostly, I am trying to create that connection with him that is ingrained in me from The Family Way: when you love someone, you laugh with them. Sometimes at them, but mostly with them.

So this Valentine’s Day–Hallmark holiday that it is–make laughter with someone you love today.

How to avoid being the next Groupon/Tibet disaster

Published February 12, 2011 Brand , Business , Copywriting , Freelance Writing , Marketing Leave a Comment
Tags: brand strategy, funny copywriting, Groupon Super Bowl ad, Groupon Tibet ad, marketing mistakes, Sandra Fish, The Oatmeal, using humor in marketing

We all know Groupon blew it with their Superbowl ad. (If you missed it, here’s a good recap of the brouhaha by University of Colorado journalism instructor Sandra Fish.) Now the CEO has finally admitted it too–better late than never.

Rather than cover the blow-by-blow error of Groupon’s–and their ad agency’s–ways, let’s talk about how you can make sure your next campaign doesn’t suffer a similar fate:

1. Choose your reviewers wisely. Whether you’re working with in-house or agency creative teams, it can be easy to get swept away with a concept or idea and forget about what really matters: what your audience thinks.

In any size company, it’s important to have checks and balances built into the review process. That means hand-picking a few select reviewers with different perspectives–the yin and yang of your best people. Choose trusted people who know and understand your audience, and aren’t afraid to tell you what they really think.

While it’s good to choose stakeholders who understand marketing and good creative, it’s also ideal to include at least one conservative person as a litmus test. If that person recoils at your campaign, you don’t have to start over, but you should consider the ramifications if a majority of your audience responds the same way.

Bottom line, if you’re taking a risk–working in a new medium, testing a new strategy, dabbling in humor when you normally don’t–the more eyes, the better.

2. Use humor sparingly but wisely. Humor in marketing is like prescription-strength Retin-A for your face–more is not necessarily better. Groupon’s email copy relies on cheeky, sassy verbiage, which is a balancing act on the best day. But throw in a cause or charity or, as Fish put it, “a beleaguered people,” and you are crossing into dangerous territory. It’s like this Oatmeal cartoon about a brain tumor; Matthew Inman wisely thinks ahead to what some in the audience may think, so he starts with an explanation/disclaimer.

But he’s not selling something. You can’t add a disclaimer to a TV commercial about the humor. Great creative executions are like toilets–they should just work. No instructions. No explanations. No disclaimers.

3. Don’t assume. Remember the “Don’t assume or it makes an Ass out of You and Me” phrase? Fish’s article reports that one of the agency creatives responsible for the ad tweeted, ”Pretend to be upset by our #groupon ad, but we got people talking about Tibet & are donating money. More than what you’re doing.”

Wow. This tweet was retweeted a few times before it was deleted, but this defensive attitude says, “We don’t care if we upset or shocked you; we raised money and who cares if you don’t like how we did it.” This is arrogant, callous and unethical–hardly qualities you want associated with your brand, let alone your people.

This is what PR people are for–and why the best response from everyone else is no response. But at the end of the day, don’t assume that your attitude, approach or humor is shared by all. And never, ever assume that people will forgive you for a misstep just because you are a big brand or popular today. It could a blip on the radar–or it could signal the beginning of the end.

4. Sleep on it. Research shows that your brain often works on solving problems while you’re sleeping or engaged in a different activity–even when you’re not actively thinking about the problem.

If you’ve ever woken up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat about a decision you’ve made, or if the problem keeps you up at night, that’s your brain’s way of saying–hold on, cowboy. Let’s think about this some more. Respect your brain’s time to process ideas and consider all the possible outcomes. Before you say, “Approved!”, sleep on it.

5. Be true to your brand AND your audience. When your brand tries to be something it’s not, or if you even think the creative is trying too hard, it’s a warning sign that you’re treading into dangerous territory.

Above all else, remember your marketing objective and your audience. If you even remotely think people could be offended or turned off by your creative, you should take a step back and think carefully about the potential fall-out.

6. Be prepared. If after all this you still decide to move forward with your creative execution, make sure you are ready to respond to both negative and positive reactions. By thinking through the potential outcomes ahead of time, you can respond quicker and more appropriately to the good or the bad.

Now that I’ve told you all of this, I’m going to say something that sounds contrary: don’t be afraid to take risks. A well-executed creative campaign could be just what the doctor ordered for your brand. By following these simple steps, you can help avoid being a case study of what NOT to do and avoid having to apologize to the Tibetan people and the world at large.

Marketing Campaign Creative: Are you guilty of these 5 subjective sins?

Published January 20, 2011 Brand , Copywriting , Creative Life , Design , Marketing Leave a Comment
Tags: art is subjective, creative process, creative project challenges, freelance graphic design, freelance writing, graphic design bias, marketing campaign creative, marketing design

Everyone’s got an opinion, but when it comes to creative work, those subjective opinions, biases and perceptions can get in the way of great creative work and hamper the whole process.

Here are 5 subjective “sins” that come up most often:

1. Anti-Feet. One client I worked with hated feet. As a b2b company in the analytics business, there was very little reason for us to SHOW feet in the first place, but his preference was so strong that it became an unwritten rule in the brand standards. If we wanted to show people, we had to show them from the waist up.

This reduces the number of images designers have to choose from and slows down the creative process.

Designer: “LOOK! This image of a couple walking down the path conveys everything we want perfectly: warmth, joy, energy. It’s perfect!”

Marketing Manager: “No, wait. That guy’s foot is showing.”

Designer: “I’ll photoshop it out!”

Marketing Manager: “No, then he’ll look like he has no feet and then You Know Who will start thinking about his feet and it’s all over. Search again.”

Designer: &*%#$%^

2. The Purple Bias. There are some people who absolutely hate one color or another, sometimes for no good reason. Just because. In my experience, it’s most often purple. Oftentimes this hated color is in the brand’s color palette, but no one realizes it because someone has decided that they hate it and it can never be used.

What’s the point of having a palette if you’re only going to use 2 of the 8 colors? That’s like wearing only black and white every day of your life. It works for some people, but for others, it just gets boring. Sometimes a good shot of purple is just what your brand needs.

3. Real People. When there’s no money or true need for a photo shoot, stock photos from places like iStock and Getty fit the bill nicely–except when someone gets hung up on the people in the photos. Other times, people don’t realize that stock photos are just that–stock, off the shelf–and you end up throwing design concerns to the wind and focusing more on personal reactions like:

“But these people don’t look like us!” (Exactly.)
“I don’t like that guy’s beard. It’s creepy.” (Beard bias)
“I thought you were going to find an image of 7 guys in our company jerseys playing softball with the company mascot in the corner!!” (Repeat after me: stock photos)

4. The Parakeet Syndrome. Another common problem is when people like a certain subject to show up in all images–say, kids or parakeets–and insist on using those types of images, and only those types of images, for their brand.

For example, if you own a pet store, then sure, images of parakeets or dogs are fine. If you’re going for a concept that conveys, say, working like a dog or feeling caged in, OK, there’s a connection there between the concept and the visual. Note: This is not like choosing a brand mascot, such as the Geico Gecko (nice alliteration there, by the way).

But be wary of anyone who wants to feature parakeets on every ad just because they like parakeets, especially if it has nothing to do with their business or the big idea driving your campaign. There should be a reason, or method, behind the madness.

5. We Want to See Real People! There are times when using “real” people works–say, the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty or casual YouTube videos. And then there are times when using “real” people screams cheesy and low budget. If you’ve ever seen a TV commercial where a car dealership owner speaks in a monotone at the screen or an athlete is clearly fixated on the teleprompter, you know what I’m talking about.

If you want to use real people in your photos or videos, ask yourself why. If it’s because that’s all you can afford, that’s OK. But you must choose employees or customers who have good presence–they speak clearly and articulately, have energy, and look natural there in front of the camera. It’s important to find someone who fits the part. That’s why there are talent agencies–it’s all about finding the right fit.

Just remember, all art and creative is subjective. But when it comes to marketing, staying true to your concept and your brand is what’s most important–leave the Purple and Beard Bias at home.