Author Archive
Hubby and I went to see Toy Story 3 at the Arena Grand yesterday. I wanted to bawl my eyes out because I was reminded of the one childhood toy I’ve kept.
Teddy.
AKA Boo Boo Bear.
I remember the Christmas morning I got him. He was all fluffy and new and huggable.
I was 5.
As you can see from his picture, he’s been loved on. A lot.
He’s been glued and stitched and sewn. Torn and battered, he’s mine. And he’s always been there for me.
I’m 47 years old and still love my Teddy. And Toy Story 3 helped me tap into that.
So how come Disney/Pixar isn’t tapping into the power of user-generated content?
How come there’s isn’t a My Story Toy Story upload where I can share my Teddy and what he means to me?
Big viral marketing miss, studio big-wigs.
If I know my Teddy — and I do — he would’ve loved the attention.
P.S. Teddy now has a place of honor in my office instead of the closet. Cheers to Teddy!
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Ever since I bought a Venus Embrace razor, I shave my legs daily.
It’s soooo easy.
No soap.
No shaving cream.
Just zip, zip, done.
But recently I noticed my old razor sitting forlornly on a shelf in the medicine cabinet. And, along with it, three unused blades.
Frugality taunted me.
So, I temporarily retired the Venus Embrace and, ahem, embraced my old razor.
But the darn thing has a too-small handle.
It has a super-small shaving head.
There’s no handy-dandy shower holder.
And there’s no slime bar.
(Gillette calls it a “ribbon of moisture” but, hey, they’re not on my client list, so as a consumer, I call it “slime bar.”)
It’s a real pain to shave with the new/old razor.
And so I don’t.
Well, not often, anyway.
The problem is not the razor.
The problem is that it’s the WRONG TOOL for the job (shaving in the shower vs. shaving in the tub).
Which got me to thinking …
That’s what happens to writers: sometimes we use the wrong tool for the job.
And it doesn’t work as well — or as easily — as the right tool.
Take, for example, a thesaurus.
This one is good.
But this one is even better.
Why?
Because one is more literal and one is more thought provoking.
One gives me easy options but the other forces me to be more creative.
And that makes me a better writer.
Which tools do you use? Which tools make you a better writer — and which tools need to be dumped from your toolbox?
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The year was 1989. I was a newlywed armed with a degree from Otterbein in Speech Communications when I started working at Ohio Magazine. My first day on the job they gave me a stack of magazines and said, “Here. Read these.”
Read these? Read all day long and you’ll pay me???
I thought I’d won the lottery.
But read I did. I studied the written word, the turn of a phrase, the crafting of a story.
But because I’m, um, gregarious and outspoken, and because my boss was sharp enough to put people where they would thrive, he dubbed me Ohio Magazine’s first-ever promotions manager.
I traveled the Buckeye State, rallying small towns from here to there in celebration of various cover stories. And although I become the defacto spokesperson, I still yearned to stretch my editorial wings.
(Somewhere there’s video of a thinner, younger me dressed head-to-toe in cream-colored business attire in front of an outhouse. Oh, how, OMag loved the unusual angle.)
I adored my job as promotions manager — until they published my first article.
I simply could not contain my joy at my very first byline and promptly quit to pursue a freelancing career.
In the 17 years since, I’ve been fortunate enough to combine both loves — writing and communications — to a highly rewarding career.
I’m one of the few writers I know who has deep experience in interactive and print communications, as well as in marketing communications and feature writing.
In my consultancy, I bring everything I’ve learned in 20+ years of writing, speaking and communications to clients who want to create and deliver an impactful message. My sweet spot is cutting through the clutter and helping people find their true voice and message.
Of course, I continually look for new ways to service my clients, so last December when friend, mentor and genius collaborator Ruth Milligan approached me to explore her re-ignited passion for helping people with their presentation style and substance, I was in, hook, line and sinker.
Together, we could take all that we knew and learned through decades-long careers in the field and deliver something useful and radical.
Together, we could serve an under-served contingency, elevating people’s ability to communicate beyond what they think they’re capable of.
Together, we could help people find their voice and deliver their worthwhile and worthy ideas in ways that are meaningful and memorable.
And with that, we’re beyond thrilled to announce the launch of ar.tic.u.la.tion. (Read Ruth’s post for her story.)
I won’t be giving up my copywriting, content and communications practice; rather, I’ll be extending my offerings through ar.tic.u.la.tion.
The creative, strategic and collaborative work I do will continue. I’m simply expanding it to include public speakers and presenters and tapping a bit more into the coach I’ve been all along.
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Four years ago this July, I left my job at Resource Interactive, launched my business, and welcomed two adorable kittens into my life.
They’re no Sockington, but my two fur babies, Bailey and Avery, bring me daily doses of love, joy and delight.
Avery likes to stand on her head and be petted (but never held) and Bailey is what we affectionately refer to as a lap whore because she jumps into our laps even when we’re standing up. (Yeowch! Those back claws are killer.)
And every day of every year for the past four years, one or the other of them drags a certain toy we call their “baby” through the house, meowing and yowling along the way.
This baby is (I should say was) a white, feathery puff that I once used to dust on sparkly body powder. They confiscated it from me, claimed it as their own, and now drag it through the house with said howling in order to “gift” it to us as a presumed token of their affection.
I wash it. I sew it. I repair it. But over the years it’s gone from intact to unraveled and now thread-bare. But they love it; and so we hang onto it though its natural life ended long, long ago.
The baby, which today is literally hanging on by its last thread, made me wonder: What do we hang onto that’s comfortable, yet tattered and worn? What are we afraid to let go of?
In writing and communications, it’s often what we call “the little darlings,” the words and phrases and stories that we love and try to force-fit into our prose, often to its detriment. In life, it can be relationships, habits, jobs or shouldas/wouldas/couldas.
Perhaps today is the day to let go of something we’ve been hanging onto. What will you let go of?