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Is 'Snakes on a Plane' worth the platform it's promoted on?

From BlogHer, after reading a not-so-surprising piece in the Times that this film isn't kicking butt and taking names like everyone thought it should. What? You mean WOM Internet Advertising doesn't always work? My response: Depends.

News Alert: Women are capable of Leading Companies ... now back to work

My brain cells have been donated to another project I hope I can brag about soon! In the meantime, here's my latest on BlogHer about women's lackluster numbers in the executive suite, and whether we should care.

Living without a Net, Part ???: What I will and won't do to get through my email

Another addition in my series on the daily existence of an Entrepreneur...

As a struggling freelancer with nothing else to do but pitch--and occasionally, write--articles, I used to live and die by my email. It was 1998: Email was fairly new at the time as a means of mass business communication. Without the benefit of a corporate tech support team, a $14.95 per-month AOL dial-up connection was all that I could set-up myself.

Since leaving the company where I worked it became my morning ritual to power up my Gateway computer, activate AOL, spend 10 frustrating minutes trying to establish a connection, and then wait patiently for the male voice who yelled, "You've Got Mail!" In effect, this voice told me, "You Are Wanted."

Back then, a good morning brought me ten messages in the following breakdown: three from family; three from friends, three from people I'd pitched to or from editors I was already working with, and one solicitation. There was so little SPAM at the time, relatively speaking, that I still couldn't identify it and read those suckers. A bad day was firing up AOL and then hearing no voice at all. The silence, in effect, told me "You Are Not Wanted."

I took it quite personally when my painstakingly constructed emails were not returned, notably by editors and people I wanted something from. I wondered what made them think they were better than other people that they couldn't at least reply. I'll never forget the Wall St. Journal editor who called me one night, a few days after I'd pitched her, and replied to my query. It wasn't right for her, she said, but she knew what it was like to be a young writer and wanted to provide more than an impersonal "No." That woman goes on my personal list of people destined for sainthood. I knew even then how hard it was to get replies, let alone personal ones. Still, I wondered why more people couldn't be like her. And I vowed that, should I ever have many people trying to reach me--for anything--that I would take great pains to respond to each just as thoroughly as this editor did.

Fast Company's Greatest Hits: A love story

My latest on BlogHer.org, featuring oldies but goodies from my favorite magazine.

The Wedding Chronicles: Setting Intentions

(A dispatch during one entrepreneur's voyage to the altar...)

Since the BlogHer conference my body hasn't known how to react; its worked too hard by instinct for months. My partners and I agreed to take a few days for ourselves; but instead of winding down I was shorting out.

I promised myself that I would now focus on the wedding, which is only two months away. I feel a sense of grief--not over the dying of my singlehood but of the visions of fabulousness that are no longer possible. I have friends who transformed their bodies for their weddings. I tried on a dress a few days ago, noticing a few fat pockets; unless I amputate something in the next six weeks I'm going to look not much different in October. I've resolved to not eat as much until the reception. I probably won't have much more fundage to work with either. it pretty much is what it is. 

We nailed down what we needed to in June--the venue and the caterer. I figured in August I would bother with everything else. I wasn't paying attention to the length of the list of things I jotted down in moments of project management pique: wedding cake; liquor, music. These things seemed small at the time, but now they loomed large. So many freaking details.

This process has taught me a lot about how B-friend and I work against deadlines. I suspected he didn't take well to pressure last year, when our landlord sold our house, and we had to move in five weeks. Apparently such inconveniences as finding a new place to live provided too much multi-tasking for his comfort. And since, well, I have more of a taste for shelter it seemed to make sense that I be the person to take time out of her workday to find us new places to live. When I asked B-friend for his help with planning, he seemed more confused than upset,

"Huh," he said. "I thought you liked this kind of stuff." No, not really. I'm just more prone to being victimized.

If we were officemates, and not life partners, I would be a project manager--I make schedules and think of all the details and when they need to get done to facilitate the other details. He would be the crackerjack producer--very talented, and pumped with attitude. We agreed that he would design our wedding invitations, since he's a designer and would complain about the quality of anyone else's work. He approved our caterer because she agreed to allow him creative input with our food. I'm glad he's not insisting on cooking at his own wedding.

Problem with B-friend is that he's a perfectionist with execution issues. If it can't be done perfectly, it ain't worth doing. B-friend's made it clear that he needs time to relax after work and can't work on wedding stuff; he needs his down time. I admire B-friend's ability to set boundaries. I wish I had the same ability. When I'm not admiring B-friend, however, I think of lobotomizing him.

My Partners the Professionals: Their re-caps/opuses of BlogHer '06

Or is the plural of opus "opii"? Who knows? Anyway, I've always admired my partners' patience and ability to speak from a standpoint of factual analysis, not with invectives. Their mission in their recaps has been to thank the many who have been so gracious to us for producing BlogHer and setting the record straight for anyone who reads some of the more reckless comments made about our intentions.

I'm not nearly as balanced of a human being, so I'll point you to Lisa's and Elisa's posts, if you are inclined to read facts.

I like how Elisa sheds light on how opposing the schwag, sessions, attention for any one group in our community is denying the plurality of it (incidentally, this single, childless woman LOVED the bibs).

And I thought Lisa was spot-on by pointing out all that we can improve the next time, and all that we can't.

I'll only say this: We are a part of this community, we ain't the bosses of it. 

Bl0gHer06BlogHer

The Relationship Chronicles: One man's schwag is one woman's treasure

The morning after BlogHerCon ...

B-friend's entirely too on-it this morning. He's stacked all of the GM bags we collected and organized the loads of schwag we accumulated at the end of BlogHer.

"I just couldn't let it all go to waste," he said.

I know, I know, if every person on the planet could pick up just one piece of trash, oh how much cleaner our planet could be; but all I could think about was the other 300 or so items we'd left at the hotel. A lifetime re-gifting supply of Crabtree & Evelyn.

B-friend laid out all of the items in degrees of desirability. He'd put the Elexa T-shirts in the "New Rag" pile.

"DOOOOoooon't!"

"You have so many of these already."

"I can't believe YOU are choosing what stays and what goes!"

"We have to be realistic, Jory. We can't keep all of this."

"Fine, but the Baby T's stay!"

"Fine."

I throw the Elexa condoms into the Keep pile.

"Why are you doing that, Jory?"

"I'm curious."

"I told you--we have too much stuff!'

"OK, I get it, we can keep the leather-bound CD cases, the corkscrews and the Yahoo! notebooks, but that's it, huh?"

"Those I can use for road trips."

"Fine. But gimme the Brandimensions highlighter."

(Exasperated sigh) "Fine ... hey, what are you doing! Why are you keeping all of that stuff over there!"

"These are gift piles. The bibs and the PBS Parents calendar go to Julie (my sister and mother of a four-month-old), I know Mom wants a tote. And they both get Crabtree & Evelyn."

"Jory! Didn't we just say we have to whittle this down?" He tossed the empty GM bags into the trash.

"DOOOOOOoooooOOOOOOooooon't!"

"No, Jory. We have to throw stuff out."

"We NEED those!

"For what?"

"Stuff ... lunches."

"I don't need them. And you work from home--you don't pack lunches. They go in recycling .... What are these, Bookmarks from Blurb? Throw these out."

"DOOOOOoooooOOOOOooooon't!"

blogher06 relationships

What does it mean, to "sell out"?

In the wake of the BlogHer conference a new question, not "Where are the women bloggers?" but "Shall we monetize?" I offer up my thoughts on BlogHer.org.