Writing Boots

On communication, professional and otherwise.

“Balance” does not a beautiful life make

05.07.2014 by David Murray // Leave a Comment

Yeah, it's true no one ever said on her deathbed, "I wish I'd spent more time at the office." But neither did anyone ever have carved on a tombstone, "He achieved work/life balance." (In general, you don't see a lot of slashes on tombstones.)

Ragan.com writer Jessica Levco started a hearfelt feud on this subject yesterday with what must have been a purposely glib piece titled, "'Work/life' balance isn't your employer's problem—it's yours."

Surely Levco doesn't believe that everyone who works a lot does so "probably because you don't have a life to begin with." Surely she senses she's being simplistic.

She goes on to offer some suggestions that could help single, childless young people who do PR trade journalism to keep work from getting on top of them. E.g., take in an architecture lecture at lunch, join a club after work that forces you to leave the office at five, respond to emails slowly so you don't get caught up in a time-consuming email exchange.

And ultimately she suggests that you advantage of the fact that your work isn't terribly important. "I wasn’t hired to get all my work done in a day, a week, or a month. The work will always be there. It will never get 'done.' Even when I work for 15 hours a day on this website to 'get ahead,' there will always be another story to write, an article to plug, or something to tweet about the next day. It really just doesn’t matter how hard I work—just as long as each day, I show up and work. Each day adds up over time."

I worked for Ragan when I was her age, and I know: That is the right attitude for working there sustainably. Of course, it was never my attitude; with only occasionally comical consequences, I chose to take the subject of corporate communication as seriously as some people take neuroscience or theology. Nor does Levco's resemble the attitude of Mark Ragan, though over the years he has had to come to grips with the inevitability of employing people who do not "think like an owner," as he always wished we would. He seems resigned to the idea that he will employ lots of people who treat working at a PR trade publisher with the casualness you'd expect from people working at a PR trade publisher.

I congratulate young Jessica for finding emotional independence from her driven boss and freedom from slavish work hours and a permanent sense of professional proportion. But I itch to tell her that maybe it's not work/life balance she should be seeking, but work that's worthy of staying late some nights. Or worrying about some nights. Or going into work in the middle of some nights, because working is more productive than worrying.

I wish her what I always wish for myself, even as I revel in the great freedom of the freelancer's life—yesterday I wrote in the morning, rode my motorcycle downtown to buy a sportcoat, handled some more work, took my daughter to to soccer practice while I played tennis, then dropped her off and rode my bike to a local bar's motorcycle night—not more "balance" in life, but more meaningful and challenging and useful work to do, whatever kind of work, professional or domestic, that turns out to be.

Many of the happiest moments in my life were the ones that evaporated while I was lost, listening to someone's weird ideas, trying to figure out what I really thought about a thing, telling a complicated story, persuading someone of something important—doing what it felt like I was put on the earth to do.

And aside from how we feel about our work: There is important work to be done in the world. Things to be built, lives to be saved, revelations to be had, miracles to be achieved—all by people who rightly believe that it does matter how hard they work.

If all Jessica wants is a balance, balance she will have.

But "balance" ain't much to tell your grandkids about.

It's not something to boast about.

And it's definitely not something to rub other people's noses in.

Categories // Uncategorized Tags // Jessica Levco, Mark Ragan, work/family balance, work/life balance

Rocking social media isn’t enough. You have to rock the world.

10.30.2012 by David Murray // 8 Comments

In the course of my correspondence with Mark Ragan yesterday, he mentioned a blog post titled "25 Women Who Rock Social Media."

Among the social media-rocking sisters was one Lauren Salazar. Here's why Lauren rocks:
Lauren-salazar-150w

"Her experience as a writer and editor for The New Yorker and New York Magazine have helped prepare Lauren Salazar for her current role as the Social Media Manager for Weight Watchers.  Lauren uses the same personal touch with the community management at Weight Watchers that she does with her own Twitter account.  She does a great job of creating a true engagement by finding a way to really connect and relate to her audience. …"

It used to be that writers and editors came to corporate communications when they wanted to get married and have kids after 10 fun years at the Virginian-Pilot.

E.B. White, on the other hand, edited an employee newsletter at a silk mill—for a few weeks, before quitting out of fear that the job was too easy and would make him soft.

And once a young David Murray, then editor of The Ragan Report, interviewed for a job in employee communication at Aon Insurance. The corporate communication director tossed a copy of The Ragan Report across his desk and said: "You write this. Why would you want to write our shit?"

I've always seen corporate communication work as being exactly as honorable and worthy as its practitioners. I've known more than my share of whip-smart communicators, and I've seen some profoundly good communication.

But now here come the best and the brightest, fresh and enthusiastic, from the most respected publications in the world, to "connect and relate" to the the customers of Weight Watchers. Well, they damned well better rock social media. I hope they use their brains and energies and hearts to rock their employers, too.

Update: And thanks to Writing Bootista Liam Scott, who was so distressed by this item that he dug into Salazar's background. It appears that "25 Women Who Rock Social Media" blogger Lee Odden may have pumped her up a bit when he said she was a "writer and editor" at The New Yorker and New York Magazine. According to her résumé, she spent "Fall '06" as a "creative services intern," where she "developed integrated campaign pitches, executed special event marketing … and provided copywriting support for advertising sales staff."

She did more editorial work at New York Magazine; among other responsibilities, she did "beat reporting for citywide retail, fitness, restaurant, and nightlife venues."

So I guess we can't expect Ian Frazier to be rocking social media at Zappos anytime soon. But we do expect Lauren Salazar to punch above her weight at Weight Watchers.

Categories // Uncategorized Tags // " content marketing, Aon Insurance, brand journalism, E.B. White, Lauren Salazar, Mark Ragan, The Ragan Report

Cool in school, juvenile on the job market

05.22.2012 by David Murray // 2 Comments

It's karma. Bad karma.

I have publicly lampooned bad cover letters written by young people. Such letters range, not too widely, from the impossibly callow—"I think outside of the box (without even realizing it)"—to the insanely overeager—"I'm wicked good at successfully multitasking."

And I have been roundly excoriated by readers, many of whom see my attacks on these children as mean-spirited. In my own defense, I have wanted to say, "I criticize from a position of empathy! My post-college cover letters were also impossibly callow and insanely overeager!"

But no one would have ever believed that my letters were as silly as the ones I was lampooning. Maybe I wouldn't have believed it myself.

Cleaning out my writing closet last week, I ran across a notebook containing the first drafts of cover letters written by the guy on the right, just out of college. Murryoung

It was the spring of 1992, exactly 20 years ago. I had graduated from Kent State University in December and moved to St. Louis to live with my girlfriend, who was working there, selling shoes. I soon convinced her that we should move to Chicago because I'd have a better chance of getting a writing job there and she could sell shoes anywhere.

I started buying the Sunday Chicago Tribune and answering classifieds.

Dear Sir, 

I am willing to bet that what you're about to read is the first scathing cover letter ever to come across your desk. Please do not confuse the mood of the letter with my general attitude.

At tender twenty-two, I have had it up to here with business. My experience with a single company has provided all the anger I'll ever need. I am a writer, so maybe you already understand. Let me explain, in case you don't.

The other day, I interviewed with an engineering firm [in St. Louis] whose name would only be important if the firm was unique. And if that was the case, I wouldn't bother with this commentary. I'll tell you the story.

The personnel director ushered me into his office … [here, a section is missing, literature lost to history; but the letter continues] …

Obviously, I did not get either the job or even the second interview, only a letter that told me I was "being considered for the position," which I received two days after the secretary told me that the copywriter position was filled.

Nothing I have told you qualifies me for a job at your agency, however I hope something I have told you qualifies me for an interview there. And I hope, again, that you don't construe the angry sarcasm of my commentary as being representative of my attitude.

I want to write for a living. I will do almost anything to achieve that end. What can I do for you? I look forward to your response.

But angry sarcasm wasn't my only rhetorical approach:

Ms. Belknap,

I am answering your advertisement in the Chicago Tribune; my interest is in the writing position, not only for the job itself, but for the goals of the Laboratory as well. As a recent student, I have a great interest in the learning and teaching processes.

At Kent State, I concentrated heavily on sociology and psychology, and recognized both the possibilities and the limitations of both fields; and, though vague, I think there is further connection between my knowledge and your needs ….

When vague connections are all you've got, vague connections are what you use. And my connections with the North Central Regional Educational Laboratory were vague indeed:

Dear Ms. — 

I write in response to your advertisement in the Tribune. The writer position is where my qualifications and interests lie.

What especially caught my eye was your commentary about the goals of NCREL: "bridging the gap between research and practice." As a recent college student (and a fairly recent high school graduate) I have ideas and opinions and feelings where all aspects of teaching and learning are concerned.

And although I understand my duties as a copywriter would not necessarily include the shaping of the organization's strategy, my passion for the subject makes the job all that much more attractive.

Lately I have been interviewing for various positions in the writing field, but I want to say I gave your's [sic] a great deal more thought and attention. (This, if I may admit it, is the fourth draft.) [A lie.]

Currently I am living in the St. Louis area, but can interview at your convenience, and plan a permanent move to Chicago within the month. You could accellerate [sic] that process considerably. I eagerly await your call.

That call never came—she was clearly intimidated by my willingness to shape the organization's strategy— but one of these letters, not in my records, did actually get me an interview, at Ragan Communications. Mark Ragan is the kind of guy who likes a brash young fool.

Mark's dad Larry, not so much. Mere weeks after signing on at Ragan, I proposed that I take over the column, on the front page of the flagship publication, that Larry had been writing for 30 years. "I'm pretty creative," I remember saying as the temperature began to plummet. But four years later—four hard years later—I did take over that column, at the age of 26. I eventually became editorial director there, and then went on to become the illustrious writer whose literary stylings you enjoy today.

So lookee, Young Graduate: Being fresh out of college is a desperate time—probably the most desperate time you'll ever know, and the one reason I would never want to be young again: You've got a degree, you've got some talent, but you have no experience, the economy is crap, and the business world has been getting along quite well without your bright shiny self for all these years.

How can you convince someone to give you a chance? Try everything. Hang in there. Try to keep calm, and remember you only need to find one person crazy enough to hire you. And for heaven's sake, don't listen to assholes who tell you your cover letters are weird.

If I had written sane cover letters, I might have gotten the job at NCREL.

And what would have become of me then?

And perhaps more to the point, what would have become of NCREL?

Categories // Uncategorized Tags // bad cover letters, callow, college graduate, cover letters, eager, Kent State University, Larry Ragan, Mark Ragan, NCREL

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