Pause

The Entrepreneur's Guide to Time Management: How to Pick a Brain Properly, and How to Selectively Allow Yours to Be Picked -- Part II

Some more food for thought, following my post from last week:

• Brain Pickers: Be specific. A few months ago, a man approached me--or more accurately reproached me--about my company's attitude toward him. He had wanted to work with us, but we weren't being receptive.

 "OK," I said, "tell me more."

He did, telling me nothing that would indicate why we should work together, only that he resented that my company charged for advertising across our network. If only we let him share his product with our community in partnership, we'd see what a great fit they were with us.

After the event, I followed up with him, as I was sensitive to the fact that prior to our meeting he had felt unheard. I explained that we were approached by people asking to partner like this often, and unless there was something that would benefit us both upfront it would be hard to justify a test relationship. Did he have any ideas? Anything to make me think we should place a bet on him by changing our business model to work with him? His note back was short: He had been hoping I would have thought of something. 

This is arrogant: Assuming that others should immediately see your value to them. And it's lazy. I'm sure that many callers aren't intending to be that way when they approach with little specificity--I'm sure many think they are being accommodating by not assuming how they could work with you. But with time at such a premium, I prefer to receive a note that says: "I think we should work together because of X" and letting me counter if that reason isn't important to me, rather than saying, "I really like what you are doing, let's talk and see if there's a way to work together."

• Brain Pickees: Consider everyone a potential resource. Mahalo Founder and serial entrepreneur Jason Calacanis openly condemns VCs and angel funders who charge entrepreneurs for the opportunity to pitch their businesses, and I have to agree with him. The sources that are worth their salt--and Calacanis points to VC Fred Wilson as an example--may be tough to reach because they are busy people, but if your concept is worth something and you present yourself well, you should get a meeting, without paying for it.

I learned this waaay back when I was in print publishing: You don't pay an agent to read your manuscript. Sure, it takes some moxie getting an agent to see your work, but agents that charge you for the opportunity tend not to have the reputation required to take your work to the next level.

It may seem counter-intuitive but it's true, because successful people don't stop looking for ideas and opportunities. They don't "top out" once they reach the big time. As much as I don't always agree with Diddy's approach to talent development (as I've seen on his various Making the Band programs), I do admire his willingness to go back to the roots of what gave him success in the first place in order to mine new talent and stay fresh and relevant in the music industry. In many ways his show is an early, analog version of curated crowdsourcing that worked.

• Brain Pickers: Be useful: Back when my partners and I were contemplating seeking venture capital funding to grow our business, we sought out a number of experienced people like Guy Kawasaki, Steve Perlman and Caterina Fake to help us get some perspective on whether to do this, and if we were to, how to do it right. These are some busy, successful people, but they were only too happy to help, for many reasons. These people were very generous with their time, and we made sure we didn't waste it. We also did what we could to be useful.

You may come to the table thinking you have nothing to offer someone who is already successful, but put yourself in their shoes: Often success can  become a buffer from some of the less-desirable things about entrepreneurship (like having to do everything, even the things you're not good at) but it can also keep you a few feet removed from the ground, where you have access to information. I often complain that as our business grows, I have less time now to get the skinny on my favorite topics on blogs. Nor can I go to as many meet-ups, where even the most random small talk yields insights on my industry. I have to make an extra effort to stay connected, which a few years ago was part of my everyday world.

When we met with Guy Kawasaki, he was in transition, learning more about the blogosphere and what made it tick. I can only hope that in some exchange for his wisdom we were able to bring him closer to the the space before his new venture, popular with the women's blogging community, AllTop launched.

Before I get my brain picked, I often ask myself, "What new things can I learn from this conversation?" Before I pick a brain, I ask, what info can I bring to the table?

• Brain Pickees: Expand your horizons. This goes back to consider everyone a resource. But even while being open you might not see opportunities in places that are surprisingly fertile. A few months ago, I was approached by someone I'd met years ago to be on the advisory board of a children's entertainment and educational company he now headed. He was aware that I could not offer up free media or proprietary information; he just wanted to tap my thoughts on marketing to moms.

I don't have kids, so the free DVDs weren't what tipped me to saying yes. Rather, it seemed like an opportunity to get better at what I currently do. The beauty of the position is that it has re-enforced my connection and thought leadership in an area in which I knew a lot, but now know much more. I've gleaned new insights for my own business as a result. Now that's a win-win.

• Brain Pickers: Let people know when picking their brain has helped. And pick your moments. So this goes back to good old-fashioned upbringing and lives next to writing thank you notes in my top five things that have carried over from my mother's nagging. But having now been on the other side of the equation, and having seen how my helping someone has made a difference, I insist on doing this when I am helped. When people I help do this, I am more excited to help them again.

That said, even if you send home-baked goods to everyone who has helped you, if you ask for too much too often, you wear out the good will. People can only eat so many cupcakes. People who continually go to the well because they are thirsty will find it dry if they don't give it time to fill up naturally. For this reason I recommend that BPs pick the best use of a source's time and not waste it on things she could get without that source's help. I recall responding to a stranger's emailed request for help starting her personal blog with a few general resources for getting started. I don't do this kind of work and thought she should have researched what I do at my company before sending her request, but I appreciated her desire to get started and wanted to encourage her. When she followed up asking me to interpret some confusing information on the site I sent her to, I was much less helpful: I told her to do exactly what I did when I started a blog and needed help: Call customer support.

This example is egregious, but think of people you might have helped in the past who followed up, essentially because they did not want to do the work that you suggested. If you provide support you are enabling them to eventually fail.

Blogging 3.0: Now, with more feeling

We sat in the cafe, a seemingly informal Sunday coffee date with a friend, but not as casual as I expected. We'd gone to a yoga class before and were now sipping lattes and picking on pastry (I had a bagel).

My friend has become very established in the social media consulting space over the past three years. Her life had changed significantly since we met at the bus stop located between our two homes. She had left her job to pursue career and nonprofit consulting opportunities. I had just left my job to consult in the social media space. I told her about blogging and she must have been ready to learn about it, because she took it on, to the point where she now speaks and trains people in it.

I had told her, for the umpteenth time, that things were changing for me. I was going to take my blogging seriously again. As seriously as I could anyway, considering I no longer had the stretches of time I used to to blog, and as seriously as I should, considering my role as a thought leader in the social media marketing space. The feeling of discomfort I've had about my blogging was like a sock that I put on early in the day that had something in it. I could feel something small in between my toes, but I just didn't have time to take off my shoes and deal with it. I've just kept walking with this thingie in my shoe. And over time I got used to the thingie, used to the annoyance, and yet I could feel it with every step.

I told my friend that I was going to revitalize my writing by redesigning my blog; she was only too happy to help. She'd started coaching independent proprietors, typically creatives, who were building social media strategies for their businesses. I had helped to build strategies for my business, and our clients' businesses, but had not built a strategy for myself.

My friend's questions were deceptively difficult.

"Who do you want to reach with your blog ... and don't say everybody."

"But men and women read Pause."

"I'm sure they did, but if you had to identify THE person that would be interested in your blog it would be ..."

"People interested in, you know, what I write. There isn't an age, per se ..."

Very difficult stuff.

"I noticed you've taken down your blogroll. You should get it back up."

I scoffed at this initially, guiltily. The truth of the matter was that I had taken down my blogroll because I hadn't added anything to it since 2005, back when I worked for myself and took the time to methodically check my feed readers. I used to make it the first thing that I did in the morning, but then the company started to really take off, and I woke up to emails and early morning meetings with people on the East Coast. I rescheduled my reading to afternoons, but gradually found that by 10 pm I was still finishing proposals, catching up on email, or checking into a hotel and desperately wanting to sleep.

"Do people still care about blogrolls?" I was embarrassed hearing myself, as I thought about the myriad times I shared with people who asked me, a few years ago, how to get started blogging. And my standard answer, "Read. You must read."

My friend started to ask me about what bells and whistles I would place on my new, revitalized blog. Save for my Twitter feed, all of my blog bling and traffic-generating features were circa 2006. I have a Facebook and Twitter account, which have grown through no effort other than accepting the invitations that have come my way. I don't have any philosophical issue with pursuing friends, fans, or followers, but more a fear of commitment. I recall days when I would spend hours trying to hack at a line of code in an old version of TypePad that screwed up my Typelists. I recall reading my posts many times before posting, just to make sure the punctuation was correct, and responding privately to every comment I received. I remember being vigilant about tagging and tracking back, working well into the night to make my beloved piece of internet real estate as inviting as possible.

Now, I kick aside cobwebs on the front porch. I feel embarrassed about the old furniture. I want desperately to be social, but don't want to invite anyone over, lest they see the tattered curtains.

"Where have I been all this time?" I said to my friend.

"You've been on the other side of things."

"The out of touch side?" I thought to myself.

I realized that I've let the blog go by choice. And I haven't added much to it because I haven't determined who I want to be as a blogger. I used to love being fairly naked, though I don't feel quite as liberal as I once was. Old age, maybe? Or maybe a few too many run-ins with people who later questioned me, or were even hurt. And running a business that involves others adds a layer of responsibility I haven't figured out how to navigate. So I've stayed away, sometimes angrily, like a victim who complains that her hands are tied. Sometimes with fear that I couldn't write powerfully like I used to. Sometimes I just don't know what I want to say.

A funny thing happened on my entrepreneurial journey: I became OK with just getting it done. Not talking about what else needed to be done, or about what I would do when I got there. I just did it. I still think about things I'd like to do, like spend a day watching TV, or going to Brazil. But I don't wonder what am I meant to do. I haven't answered the question, but my life is working on it. It's a paradigm shift that renders the many book proposals and soul-searching blog posts useless now.

Still, there are reasons why I want to continue blogging. Back to the thingie in my shoe: I spend an awful lot of time pondering where this industry as a whole is going, but I haven't really spent time getting re-addicted to using social media. I don't update my profile, or follow people. I read what others aggregate and send my way, but not what I discover. I've stopped thinking this was bad; I just would like to re-engage. I don't have more time for this and will have to be realistic about my output, but I don't need to be uber-consistent. It's not about the traffic. This will keep me thinking.

Stay tuned.

Geeking Out: Is blogging wrecking marriages?

I'm on the East Coast for some Labor Day kicking back and will be staying out here on business. But last week in SF proved to be quite interesting. I sat on a panel with people I admire, including Rick Klau and Siobhan Quinn of Blogger, Blogger Founder and now Twitter Founder Ev Williams and his Twitter Co-Founder Biz Stone, Salon.com Co-Founder and author of Say Everything: How Blogging Began, What It's Becoming, and Why It Matters Scott Rosenberg, SocialVibe CEO (and Blogger partner) Joe Marchese, and geekblogger and often dead-on observationalist Louis Gray. The premise of the panel: A general discussion of the evolution of blogging, with Blogger's 10th anniversary as a time peg.

So what do a bunch of us bloggy/microbloggy types have to talk about? The press on the other end of the room had few, if any, questions. I think they (and Louis) wanted to hear more about the beginnings of Blogger from Williams and Stone. And the rest of us, who had built businesses and blogs around blogging, could provide commentary. I added some facts about how the role of blogging has evolved for women. Initially it seemed more a personal platform tool, or a journaling tool. And I still think that it is. But I've also seen it launch businesses for women, who grew their expertise on their blogs and built consultancies. Some launched book and blog-writing careers from their blogs. I've also seen another side effect, one that I can't confirm with data, but more one I've observed among women I read and who have attended the BlogHer Conference numerous times: personal empowerment.

It's not easy to describe, especially in this way, but I will try. I have met quite a few women and mothers who, after getting into their blogging, are getting divorced. One, a mother of two, told me quite plainly about her former spouse, "He couldn't take it. All that was happening because of my blog. He was no longer the big shot." In another instance with a mother of four, the blog didn't compete with the spouse, but it provided a means of expression, and an entryway to other women on the Web, who helped her to see that there was more to life, and that she could have more in a partner. (I didn't tell these stories on the panel; I cited some data from our Blogging benchmark study and mentioned that I've personally seen transformations that women have had as a result of their blogging, including in some cases divorce.)

"So then blogging is wrecking marriages?" Rick Klau joked I had to clarify, absolutely not. People wreck marriages.

But while we have a whole lot of data behind women's media migration patterns and usage of social media to show increased adoption, there's another effect, one no one has measured yet, that I'd like to explore. I'm sure someone like my sister Julie, a genderist and women's history professor, will one day uncover it (hint, hint). Here's my theory: This blogging thing has made us all more accountable. And if we've been living to half our potential, or are living half-truths, we can now see that unlived part of our lives out there, while sitting at the kitchen tables of the women we read, just talking.

Maybe that's fodder for Blogger's 15th birthday.

 

Some thoughts on BlogHer'09: A founder's and a blogger's view

Every year after BlogHer, I take a few days to take in the wrap-ups and accounts and to assess the role our event, and even our organization, plays in the women's Blogosphere. It's a level of introspection that I rarely achieve anymore on my personal blog, but considering that this blog, and the opportunities it created for me, are what encouraged me to take on BlogHer with Lisa and Elisa to begin with, so it seems appropriate.

If you read my personal blog you will notice a few things, other than I post so rarely that I am no longer participating in the BlogHer Ad Network (our community managers practice what we preach when we say you must post regularly to run ads!), namely this:

• I'm not a Mommyblogger
• I've never participated in a review program. In fact, the reviews I have written were mostly posted without the publisher even being aware I was planning to (I've only reviewed books and the occasional film). Many of the books I bought myself and felt moved to review them.
• I've never made more than $40 a month on my ads, never had Google Ads or BlogAds supplementing my BlogHerAds, never placed an affiliate tag or ad on my site, or ever optimized my site for making money (something my husband questions me about constantly)

What this "traditional media" expat has to say about the way the wind has blown

I am an ex-pat of traditional media. I came to my first job hoping that I would see my name in magazine bylines and book covers. Maybe I would get to share my work on TV, God willing. I left "print" by accident, not by any prescience on my part of its eventual declining significance, but more from an inability to fit in.

I'm sure if I had stuck it out a bit more and not taken a new media job five years in I might have made more of a go of it. But things discouraged me about traditional media. It had an established power structure that made it nearly impossible to get noticed. I wrote things I was proud of on the side, while editing more established writers in the waking hours and writing uninspired copy as a freelancer. But I hadn't really established a voice that was worthy of cashing in favors from editor friends of mine.

I didn't crackle with potential; I tended to get sleepy at work while copyediting and often had my edits edited. My favorite part of my job was reading magazines--a nice perk of working at a print media company--and going to parties, where a lot of people asked me for my card. Being employed by a large media company, I didn't have to go after editors looking for print work. But I had no ability to get published within my own company. When I was told I couldn't write good headlines it felt more like a sentence than a criticism. It was an indication of my inability to do well in this world. I wouldn't get to do what I really wanted--to write--because clearly it wasn't in my blood.

I read with fascination Lesley M.M. Blume's piece in Slate, "The Media's Lost Generation" about the travails of traditional media refugees who are being forced to have to re-invent themselves in mid-career. Her piece opens,

Last month, a media executive met with a headhunter to plan his next career move. With years of experience at a major media organization, the executive figured that he had some good ammo to jump to the next level, even in the current economic climate.

The meeting did not go well.

"The headhunter essentially told me not to even bother trying," says the executive. "He told me, ‘The old media model is broken.' The message was that there really isn't a next step to take."

I read articles about the challenges of print and television all the time, but this one really resonated with me, perhaps, because I'm relieved that through no particular flash of insight other than just a feeling to go where I can make a difference, I veered to where the action is. A direction now deemed "correct" in the world. I recall my decison to leave New York to take a new media job, ten years ago, and asking a trusted mentor whether it made sense for me to leave and relinquish my somewhat low, but higher than rock-bottom, place on the media ladder.

"You'll be back in six months. Don't lose any numbers," he said. My decision to go was one of the first logically inexplicable ones I'd made. It came from the gut and a voice that said, "Do it anyway."

I share this because I am not taking a self-righteous stance on the new relevance of new media, or social media. I make a living from it, I believe my company rides along the edge of best practices everyday, but I can't say that I knew this would happen; I'd only hoped I would be able to pursue this growing interest in a model counter intuitive to the people I used to work for. A model that democratized media, to a large extent, and made possible a notion terrifying to most people like me who hinged their self-worth on "making it" in traditional media: that there's a whole helluva lot of talent out there and it ain't all on the Hearst, Conde Nast, or Time Warner payrolls. Traditional media just took in whom they could fit, who matched the pedigree, or who had an uncle who could introduce you to the editor, or who had this random bit of luck and was seen for what she could produce, and sometimes bonafide talent. But so may others could not even make it to the filter, let alone make a living at it.

Back in my print days, there was something so alluring about being one of a few selected, whose name would be committed to print. And there's a whole community of folks, I'm sure, who still hold print sacred. I'm one of them, even as someone whose name has only made it via her work in new media. I fretted so long about being a part of it that even while it's suffering I promise to someday return -- if it will have me. Many bloggers who are doing just fine building platforms online still look at the book deal as the summit of success. I'll know I'm fully evolved when I couldn't care less about hardcover, softcover, or any cover.

Blume writes of executives who have dedicated their careers to traditional media and who now have no idea what's next. I recall from back in my editing days that the most likely way to "move up" in traditional media was to jump to a new company. I had friends whose resumes made me dizzy--they moved, often laterally, to a company, then another, sometimes even back to their original company. Anything to extricate them from a previously untenable working situation (untenable, meaning with blocked or unclear paths to promotion). Often their situation wasn't any better when they moved, but even the possibility of shaking lose a few additional thousand per year, or removing the word "associate" from their title was worth it. Movement in itself meant relevance.

But now, after swinging from tall building to tall building like Spiderman, these execs are finding themselves in freefall: The buildings have crashed down.

It's been difficult to share my thoughts on the overarching change that's going on, because it would be so easy to accuse me of advocating for the side on which my bread is buttered. But could any of us really read Blume's piece and think that we've ended up on the "right" or "wrong" side? I read it, felt lucky for a second, and then realized, no matter which side we're on, we can't stop moving. We must simply learn to love the freefall, even when at times someone throws us a net.

What I'm grateful for is not having ended up where I am, but for the voice that had told me, when I thought I should stay in the realm of the known, "Do it anyway."

What "BaconSalt" Taught Me About Building Brand Fanaticism in Social Media

A chance encounter while traveling gave me a new lease on the power of food blogging and tapping foodies of all stripes to make things happen.

If I Were Twitter’s Agent: Assessing the Social Media Tool’s Rise and What Would Make it Flop

Ain't life Twitterific? That's the point of my latest piece. Whether or not we are nearing the apex of Twitter's popularity, it's certainly time to think about what we, the users, are doing to the not-so-poor sm tool, at least before it has to go to rehab.

"Hey Buddy, Wanna Buy a T-shirt?": Notes from Inside P&G's Digital Marketing Hack-a-thon

My take on P&G's very clever experiment to get their marketing leadership in-synch with best practices in social media marketing.

Context and Disclosure: Keys to Success in Compensating Bloggers

This was my response on behalf of BlogHer, which was also cross-posted on BlogHer.com, to the brouhaha over Forrester's recent report in support of "Sponsored Conversations" and compensating bloggers for mentions. We felt like the topic wasn't being addressed with the nuance it deserves.

Blog for your life! ... and help save Disaster Victims

So despite what I do for a living--work with companies to share the benefits of social media--I haven't ever been asked to pitch product, or prove via my own means that social media gets stuff done. Until today.

I'm in Cincinnati at P&G for what some is calling a digital hack night. They are making me work for my supper! They've issued a challenge--for me and about 100 other digital people--to raise money for one of their Tide''s successful charities, Loads of Hope. In other words, to put my money where my laptop is and to show the folks here how it's done. OK, so I need to Tweet for my supper, sort of.

I didn't realize how competitive I am. I feel like I'm defending freaking democracy or something. So here I am blogging (Chas from Federated is sitting next to me, as is Jason from MySpace) thinking, how to we get folks to buy T-shirts?

Tell you what, if you don't buy one to help victims of natural disasters, then buy one because they look cool. If you don't care about looking cool, do it to prove that social media works. If you don't care if we can prove that social media works, then do it because at some point I lent you a pen, or held the elevator door, or you are my mother. Pleeeeeeeease buy a shirt before 9p 11a ET at the link below:

http://tidetshirts.pgvillage.com/c-9-show-all.aspx?_vsc=tide4.