Writing and the “Empty Backpack”

During the holidays, my wife and I got a chance to see the latest George Clooney vehicle, “Up in the Air.”  It is a fine flick with terrific acting and captivating, if not occasionally predictable, storylines and characters.  I definitely recommend seeing it, if you haven’t already.  I don’t intend to spoil the movie for anyone who hasn’t seen it, but I’ve been thinking lately about one particular aspect of it that involves the self-improvement shtick of the main character.  In the movie, in addition to his job firing people, the main character has an avocation that leads him to speak at local meetings of various civic, philanthropic and professional groups at the local Super 8s and Hampton Inns across middle America in a sly poke at our mass cultural buy-in of self-styled self-improvement gurus (think Oprah without the glitz and the screaming housewives).

This guy’s talisman is the “empty backpack,” which he displays prominently on a table next to him during his spiel.  I’m not interested here in exploring his latter-day existentialist philosophy, but I was struck by the empty backpack motif and how it could apply to communicating in general and, more specifically, to good writing.  The overall idea behind the empty backpack – at least how it’s explained in the movie (or what I understood it to mean) – is that you should imagine you only have so much capacity to carry various things around with you during your life.  So choose wisely.  From the character’s viewpoint, the empty backpack was a metaphor for how he lived his own life.

Deep thoughts about life choices aside, I like the simplicity of the empty backpack when it comes to writing.  Talk to anyone who writes – poorly, adequately or superbly, it doesn’t matter – and they have baggage, if you will, about how they write, what they write, why they write (or don’t want to write).  It is testament to the power of words and language that nearly everyone school-age and older has some deep-seated insecurity about their writing and some longstanding goal to improve some aspect of it.  If someone tells you that they have no hang-ups about their writing, they’re lying, plain and simple.

For me, an empty backpack approach means that I don’t have to carry around all the flotsam and jetsam in my head about grammar, and parallelism, and AP style, and spelling and whatever else has been pounded into my brain from Sister Elizabeth Ann in fifth grade to Mrs. White in senior English to that unnamed copy desk chief who never seemed to like any headline I ever wrote.  I can approach writing with a freedom that is encumbered only by what I choose to fit in my backpack.  As it turns out, a fair amount of what I still carry in my backpack includes memories (frighteningly fond) of diagramming sentences and doing vocabulary exercises for fun.  [Yes, I am that big of a loser.]  But those familiar and comforting memories about writing are what should be in the backpack, not the proverbial “red sea” of a teacher’s markup or stupor-inducing lectures on how to properly punctuate sentences (or not split infinitives).  Those things take up too much room and are too heavy to carry around.

The meteoric rise of social media has taken a lot of hits and blame for potentially bringing on the demise of good writing.  Much has been made of the limits of 140 characters for texts and Tweets.  Interestingly, I think that these limitations – along with the increasing frequency and acceptance of texts and Tweets – are actually helping us to communicate better, allowing us to discard much of the baggage we have picked up along the way as we journeyed from school to careers.  Personally, I’m still a little uncomfortable with some of the silly abbreviations that have been coined (Like “KK”  Really?  That’s as good as we can get to mean “OK” or “OK, cool”?).  And I have banned my daughter from using them in her texts to me, mostly as a power trip that she already has ignored.  [I guess that makes it a “no-power trip,” huh?]. 

For better or worse, though, our language and our use of it continues to evolve at an astounding rate.  I find myself feeling inexplicably sanguine about the whole thing, perhaps because technology has given me – and many, many others – a voice in the conversation about where it’s going in a way that simply didn’t exist even just a few years ago.  Maybe no one is listening, but I feel better after sharing my opinions.  And with my (nearly) empty backpack, writing and communicating becomes something to enjoy instead of a chore or a hassle.  So, next time you take on a particular writing task, remember the empty backpack approach, and see if it doesn’t help a bit.  I’m guessing it will.

Be Careful What You Wish For

So, the Supreme Court has decided that the First Amendment has some teeth still left in it when it comes to political speech (the whole reason it mentions the “press” in the first place).  It may come as a surprise to some who know me, but I actually agree with the majority view, which bears a resemblence to my “marketplace of ideas” philosophy.  The provisions struck down in the campaign finance law were, at their core, bad law. 

We do ourselves a disservice as a society when we start to carve up the media into the “haves” and “have-nots,” especially when it comes to political speech.  More speech and openness should be our goal in a democracy, such as we have.  My personal hope is that now with restrictions on corporate political giving wiped away, people will start paying more attention to the various sources of campaign money and be able to make their own judgments as to whether or not that’s a problem.  I’m additionally hopeful that our lapcat major media outlets will also finally start paying more attention to the substance of our political arena and give less attention to the “games” that politicians play.

Then again, there is the age-old law of unintended consequences.  Many folks have been predicting what’s going to happen now, with many taking a Chicken Little approach.  I’m not sure anyone can predict accurately what will transpire over the next few months and years in the wake of this decision.  But it sure will be interesting to watch…

Monday Morning Quarterbacking III

Another in a series looking at some of the more technical sides to communication.  And at least it was written (albeit not posted) on a Monday morning…

What news of the lowly semicolon?  Of all forms of punctuation, perhaps none is more ignored, and perhaps maligned, than the semicolon.  I would venture to say that more people have used the semicolon for a winking emoticon than have placed it between two independent clauses, thereby creating one cohesive sentence. I fear that without the creation and propagation of emoticons, the semicolon would be close to being relegated to the scrapheap of grammar niceties, used only by sixth grade teachers and writers attempting to show how smart they are (present company excluded, of course).

But consider for a moment the elegant and simple nature of the semicolon.  It alone among our punctuation marks can be a true unifier, not a divider.  [It is not a joiner, either, like those wishy-washy coordinating conjunctions.]  The semicolon doesn’t interrupt or draw attention to itself like the self-important dash or the flashy exlamation mark (!).  And it certainly isn’t the workhorse period, the clueless question mark, or the misused, misplaced and so often misunderstood comma.  Nor does it raise our expectations, often unnecessarily, like its cousin the colon.  And don’t get me started on the apostrophe (and for the love of Mike, will you people study the difference between plurals and plural possessives and the use of the apostrophe in only one of those situations).  Yes, I know that the apostrophe, along with quotation marks, are quasi-punctuation, but humor me here.

Anyhoo, I digress.  Perhaps the status of the semicolon is a reflection of the lack of attention paid to trying to make everyday writing better and, heaven forbid, more interesting.  Obviously, using a semicolon doesn’t magically transform the mundane into the magnificent.  But it could be a good start.  For better or worse, most of us tend to write (and think?) in a relatively simple, direct and linear fashion.  A semicolon can be a way to connect some of those thoughts and ideas in such a way as to denote an air (a flair?) of sophistication.  It shows the reader that you have a broad, expansive view of the world and that you’re confident in your use of potentially obscure grammatical flourishes.

A caveat:  overuse of the semicolon can be a red flag that you’re trying too hard.  They should be sprinkled into your writing like a well-aged Parmesan over some homemade gnocchi (cream-based or tomato sauce, your pick).  Semicolons should not be doused onto your writing less it lose its flavor or become too thick for efficient or enjoyable reading.  Have an insatiable appetite for more on semicolons?  Try here and here.

So, next time you’re writing more than a text message to your friends, don’t forget that the semicolon is in your punctuational quiver.

Try it; you just might like it.

Both Ends of the Spectrum

Yesterday, my family and I went to a matinee holiday concert of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, followed by our attendance at a home Bulls game (they actually won in OT against the Atlanta Hawks).

One child’s take on the day’s activities:

“At the concert, we weren’t supposed to make any noise.  And at the Bulls game, they wanted us to make as much noise as possible.”

It was a very interesting observation, and it was a great reminder that the ability to communicate is completely dependent on the situation.  Not a paradigm-shifting thought, certainly, but it is proof that a one-size-fits-all approach to communications is not a good idea.  Think about this example the next time someone asks why the same idea or solution cannot be applied to different situations.  The answer is that context is everything.

Sorry, Not My Job

Sometimes you just can’t make stuff up when it comes to dealing with people who work for big companies that serve the general public.  Like a utility.

As part of relocating (which I recently did from Philadelphia to Chicago), I had to return a couple of digital cable boxes.  The online locator for the nearest office to my home apparently didn’t work too well, as it was sending me to one several miles away from my home when I entered my zip code.  I knew there had to be one closer, so I entered a different zip code for a neighborhood next to mine.  Sure enough, I got directed to a much closer office.

When I arrived at the office, I was surprised to see that it was arranged with counters fortified with bulletproof glass thick enough to make any bank envious.  There was also a nifty electronic “take a number machine” at the entrance that asked whether I was seeking assistance with my cable, telephone or internet.  Well, since we had all three from this company and since our move necessitated that I cancel all three services, I was momentarily stumped.  Remembering the cable boxes tucked under my arm, I gamely pressed “cable” to receive my number and waited for it to be called.

While waiting, I noticed that others who came in before me, and who pressed phone or internet, were issued numbers lower than mine.  Sure enough, they were served before me.  Obviously, like what always happens to me at the grocery store, I had picked the wrong line (or in this case, service).  Eventually, though, I was invited to come to the counter and speak through six inches of Plexiglass to a real person. 

Upon giving her my account number, I was promptly informed by the person behind the glass that I was at the wrong office to drop off my cable boxes.  My bad, but I’m here now, I replied.  It was late in the day, and there was not a chance I’d make it to the other office before it closed.  With a frown on her face, the person told me to put the cable boxes into “the slot.”  The “slot” was a small pass-through compartment that, when opened, provided a window through the barrier.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to figure out how to fit the boxes into it so that the door would close, apparently allowing the person on the other side to take them and allow me to get on with my life.

After a couple of miscues, complete with the person yelling at me through the glass to put the boxes in a different way, she finally gave up her shouting with one final huff.  The next thing I know, she’s stomping off to a nearby door, yanking it open and joining the hoi polloi (i.e., customers) on my side of the looking glass.  “It fits this way, dummy!” she snarled as she shoved the boxes into the slot in the correct (and obviously unfathomable to me) position.  And I have to admit here that she didn’t actually say “dummy,” but I was able to infer it.  She then stalked back to the door and returned to her position on the other side of the glass, where she retrieved the boxes from the slot.  [At this point, you may be wondering why she didn’t just take the boxes from me and walk with them to the other side of the glass instead of placing them in the slot for me, but that will have to remain a mystery to us all.]

By now, the wearying effects of moving and the person’s attitude had taken a toll on me.  With my irritation only slightly checked, I opened my big mouth and said, “You know, you might want to take a little refresher on your customer service skills.” 

The person behind the glass stopped tapping into her computer, looked at me with a scowl and said, acidly, “Sir, I’m not in customer service.  That’s another department.”  She then returned to her typing, without a hint of irony.

I was stunned into silence, which for those who know me, is a feat that is damn near next to impossible.  I looked around to see if anyone had just witnessed this exchange.  One guy standing a couple of windows down looked over at me with a slight smirk, as if to say, “Well, what did you expect her to say?”

Honestly, at most I was expecting a dirty look, which I likely deserved for my essentially obnoxious remark.  I wasn’t expecting the perfect fodder for a parable on how not to communicate with your customers, directly or indirectly. 

And so I recount this exchange as often as I can when my friends and colleagues engage in a game of “can you top this” for unbelievable stories involving customer service.  Many of them are naturally incredulous at my tale.  But almost none are surprised.  And if I were a company that provoked that kind of reaction in my customers or my prospective customers, I would be very, very worried.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Occasionally I have been asked what is the most important skill related to communications, marketing or business development, at least in the professional services environment in which I dwell.  I always answer with one word: 

Listening.

Most people, when they hear my imparted wisdom, usually wait to see if I’m planning to add anything to that.  “That’s it?” they ask.  “That’s it,” I respond. Some respond positively, even though it’s not quite the answer they were expecting.  Others look at me, say something like, “well, that’s very interesting,” and clearly write off my opinion.  More often than not, though, to listen is to take control of a conversation or a meeting and likely dictate the outcome.  Think about it.  You hopefully already know what’s in your own head.  But you don’t know what’s in someone else’s.  One of the few ways (and sometimes the only way) to learn that is to listen to what they’re saying.

And by listening, I really mean paying attention.  Too much in our business (and often personal) lives, high-functioning people fall into the habit of multitasking when they are in a meeting, in a conversation, on a conference call.  It looks like they might be listening to what‘s being said, but they’re really not.  Or, just as bad, people aren’t really listening because they’re already thinking about what they’re going to say next because they have a set agenda or want to impress.  I see it in my pre-teen kids, who are desperate sometimes to participate in conversations with the “grown-ups” if the topic is moderately interesting.  They follow the conversation for a little while, and often contribute something interesting at first, but when the conversation naturally turns to a different topic, their next comment is pretty non-sequitur.  I’ve watched their facial expressions and body language when this occurs, and it’s pretty clear that they weren’t really listening to what’s being said since they were busy thinking about what they were going to say next. 

While this is certainly excusable behavior from a 12-year-old (and actually pretty typical), it’s not really acceptable in a business setting.  Yet, I’ve seen it happen over and over.  And every once in while, I’m guilty of it, too.  When it’s happened, I have to remind myself to start listening (paying attention) or risk being seen as a buffoon, or perhaps more charitably, as clueless or rude.  None of these is a good result, obviously.  The whole issue of multitasking and not listening will be fodder for another blog entry.

There are whole seminars and training sessions that cover listening in a business or educational environment (often discussing conflict resolution and sometimes using the silly and redundant title of “active listening”), so I won’t pretend to compete here with any feigned expertise.  But I will be frequently discussing various aspects of listening and its importance in communications.

Hope you’re listening.

Monday Morning Quarterbacking II

I figured it might be good to post my Monday Morning Quarterbacking entry while it was still actually morning… somewhere.

And thus, an example of today’s topic:  sarcasm in writing.  I stumbled upon this blog entry today at PR Junkie that talks about a movement to start a sarcasm font, apparently because it’s something that smart alecks like me need desperately because we are so often misunderstood.  Whoops, there I go again.  Or was that cynicism?  In a desperate attempt to self-medicate self-diagnose, I stumbled upon this:  The Sarcasm Society (where their catchphrase is “We would love to hear what you think!”).  Interestingly, these folks don’t seem to know about the sarcasm font, or at least I couldn’t find out since I couldn’t easily locate a search function for the site.  Not to mention the fact that the site attempts to use mere italics to indicate the inherent sarcasm in its catchphrase.  My mini-review of the site and its blog is that it attempts to be like The Onion, except more mean and less funny.

Anyhoo, back to communicating about communications.  The rule of thumb when writing has always been to avoid sarcasm unless you’re making it consistently clear from the outset, like some latter-day Swift, that the reader shouldn’t be taking anything literally (or seriously).  In practice, I think eschewing sarcasm is a rule worth following, especially in business writing or when writing for people you don’t know or those who cannot put your writing into the proper context.   In other words, keep your smart-aleck comments to yourself. 

However, it seems like our popular culture has an inherently sarcastic meme to it nowadays.  So much so that it seems impossible to avoid it, whether you’re reading the breathless columns in the sports section of your local newspaper or trolling the latest celebrity gossip on any number of people we all should really care less about.  It would seem that the old rule of thumb about avoiding sarcasm in writing is being broken daily in a variety of forums and contexts.  Perhaps that’s what is fueling the movement toward a sarcasm font.  Except that why would we need a special font to express sarcasm when it so often is apparent or assumed?  Seems like a sarcasm font has already jumped the shark, to resurrect a cliche that in fact has jumped the shark (or is that redundant?).

On a similar train of thought:  If the issue is trying to indicate clarity of purpose in your writing (“Hello, I’m being saracastic here, dummy, pay attention!”), then doesn’t the use of a special font for something like sarcasm in essence ruin the impact of using sarcasm in the first place?  Good writing is all about not seeming too forced or trying to hard.  You’re trying for eloquence, or elegance, of thought when you write well.  If you feel like the need to make sure that everyone knows you’re being sarcastic in a piece of writing, maybe you should just skip it.  Instead, try just being direct.  It’s much more effective, and often more eloquent.

Here goes:  A sarcastic font is one of the silliest ideas I’ve heard in a long time.

See?  So much better.

Flatlining

I knew this blog would be a learning experience.  One of the many lessons that I now have qualitative proof of:  if you don’t post, no one will visit.  Regrettably, I have not been able to post here for a couple of weeks given my work and travel schedule.  (To see what I”ve been up to, click here.)

My blog stats show that without posting, NO ONE comes to visit.  I have several straight days recently with no hits.  One long flat line for days on the little line graph that comes with my blog’s “dashboard.”  Ouch.  Well, I’m hopeful that streak will not be repeated.  So, welcome back to the blog!

Monday Morning Quarterbacking I

So, as part of my new blog tradition, I want to use a Monday morning post to highlight some of the wonkish nits to pick more technical sides to writing and speech that so many of us communicators love.  A great source of these things often is the folks at Ragan.com, who send me a daily email of various snippets that can be useful (or at least thought-provoking).

So, today’s Monday Morning Quarterbacking post is about buzzwords — or just plain old words in certain contexts — that need to be retired.  Here’s one person’s take.  I would add verbs used outside their general contexts for use in business-speak like “grow” (as in “grow the business”), “drive” (as in “drive the process”) or even the mouthful “effectuate” (as in “effectuate change”).  A confession of sorts: I have sinned occasionally by using these words in memos and emails. But everyone is worthy of redemption, no?

Feel free to add your own nominations for buzzwords or words that we could all use a little less these days.  I’ll be gathering new nits interesting bits to post for the next Monday Morning Quarterbacking.

Time To Be Social

As a communications director, I’ve been asked to provide advice and guidance for professionals interested in starting a blog.  (In my case, these folks are lawyers, who, you might guess, have no shortage of opinions but who also are very cautious about sharing them in a public forum like a blog.)  The first bit of guidance I usually give them is to be ready to make a commitment.  I tell them that while they may have the most exciting and valuable insights to share, they’ll be talking to themselves if they don’t post to their blog on a regular basis.

So, in the interest of walking the walk, herewith is my latest entry, in which I will whine slightly about the discipline necessary to post on a regular basis.  To some extent, this blog is causing a couple of flashbacks to when I was editor of my college newspaper and I had a weekly column to write.  (The editor’s column was something of a tradition at my paper, The Daily Northwestern.  Not sure if that tradition continues.)  I remember sweating it out, late on a Thursday night, long past my deadline, with the news editor’s toes tapping and fingers drumming impatiently.  Invariably, I slogged it out and produced several column inches of somewhat worthwhile copy.  A couple were actually not too bad (and one even garnered an award of some sort), but most were pretty ordinary, with me sharing some thoughts or observations on a particular topic of passing interest.  In a way, it was a blog before blogs even existed — or were even envisioned.  Yes, I’m feeling old.

One thing I did learn from that experience was to be a disciplined observer and occasional note-taker.  In fact, in preparation for this blog, I’ve tried to be a lot more aware of communications issues and topics that might be worthy of comment.  I’ve taken to carrying a notebook around in which I can jot down notes and even draft a post — exactly what I did yesterday morning for this post while riding the train to work in our Chicago office (a shout out of thanks here to John Miller at Braithwaite for the gift of the notebook — send more!).

One other thing I learned (and am still learning) is that you just have to get started (cue the Nike slogan or the “every great journey begins with a first step” quotes).  It’s simple — and simplistic — advice, but as I get older and keep learning more about myself and others, the most basic truths seem to keep coming back to the fore.  No, I’m not going to go all “everything I know I learned in kindergarten” loopy on you here.

But, communicating effectively takes time and commitment and discipline, just like anything else worth doing.  I think many believe they can just phone it in and it will be okay.  Um, no, really not a good idea.  Many people initially jumped into social media and networking with both feet, thinking, “everybody’s doing it, how hard could it be?”  I’ve found it to be plenty hard.  Or, rather, it’s plenty hard to do it right and do it well so that people actually engage you.  There was a concept floating around several years ago about making a website “sticky.”  The ferver over stickiness seems to have died away to a large extent, but the basics behind it remain:  if your social media efforts are interesting or compelling, people will visit and engage, more often than not.  That’s always been the rule for radio, TV, newspapers, magazines and other “old-fashioned” media.  Why would it be any different for social media?

So, here’s to keeping it interesting.  With blogs, I’m learning quickly that it’s definitely easier said than done.

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