The presence of Maya Angelou

Remembering the class of a lifetime

Author photo and quotation on the back of Angelou’s book Rainbow in the Cloud

When Maya Angelou died in 2014, I wrote about the heady experience of being a student in her college seminar long, long ago; I came across that essay recently and wanted to share it here.

Spring 2014

After I heard the news about Maya Angelou’s death last week, I wanted so much to see what, if anything, I had had the good sense to put on paper about the experience of being in her class at Wake Forest University.

I was a committed keeper of journals back then, but after 27 years, the chances of putting my hands on the one from that exact timeframe seemed slim. But I was determined to try, and the universe served up what felt like a small miracle. The very first notebook I pulled out of a wooden chest in the back of my closet contained this single paragraph:

Tuesday night, April 7, 1987

I began a course with Maya Angelou yesterday. She is captivating, electric, compelling ... and – at first – terrifying. It was the most stimulating, exhausting two and a half hours I have spent since I can remember.

My memories of college classes are more in the “broad brush” category these days, and I’m sad to say that I don’t recall much about the specific things we talked about in that spring seminar, which I took at the end of my senior year.

But what I do have a vivid memory of is the experience of Maya Angelou.

That bowled-over paragraph in my journal sums up the powerful impression she made on me -- an impression that has not faded over the past 27 years.

From the first moment of the first day of class, I knew this was going to be like no class I had ever taken.

She set a tone that was a little terrifying for college kids accustomed to informality; she expected things that we were not accustomed to – in college or in life in general, I think.

She announced that we were going to learn each other’s names so that we would be able to go around the room and greet each of our fellow students by name at the beginning of class – and we wouldn’t be calling each other by our first names, as I’m sure we would have expected. We would greet each other formally – Ms. Smith, Mr. Jones, etc.

She also made it clear that anyone who wasn’t able to be on time may as well just stay away that day.

I was raised to be polite, and I had always been a respectful kid, but the expectations she laid out that first day were striking. I’m not sure I could have put it into words back then, but I definitely understood that for Maya Angelou, those ground rules were not about going through the motions or being old-fashioned; they were about dignity and respect. In giving people your attention – learning their names, greeting everyone individually – and respecting their time, you communicate your regard for them.

(I can’t recall whether we talked specifically about the importance of these kinds of gestures of respect and dignity in the context of the history of slavery, but even if we didn’t, I certainly made the connection.)

At first I was petrified that I wouldn’t be able to remember my classmates’ names; I wanted very much to rise to her expectations of us.

I believe she had this effect on everyone she encountered; she was the sort of person who could walk into a room and make everyone sit up straight. Her energy couldn’t help but kick your senses into high alert; you wanted to harness even a little of it for yourself.

An unforgettable dinner party

Beyond my memory of Maya Angelou as a force of nature, I will never forget the way we ended our seminar: She invited all of us to dinner at her home, which stands as the most exciting invitation ever extended to me.

As anyone who admires Maya Angelou would understand, that evening was a highlight of my writing, reading, studying, thinking life. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the kind of minute details that you’d like to recall about an experience like that, and it’s not in my journal, either; I’m guessing I was pouring my eve-of-graduation excitement and fear into those pages during those last few weeks of college.

But again, I still have vivid broad-strokes memories.

I remember her warmth and hospitality – her genuine delight at having us in her home.

I remember wonderful food, though I can’t tell you what she made for us.

I remember sitting around in her living room/family room after dinner doing something I never dreamed I would do, something I still have a hard time wrapping my head around: We read poems that we had written. Out loud. To MAYA ANGELOU. In her living room.

It was thrilling and – to borrow an adjective from my journal entry – terrifying.

Though I would love to see what on earth I wrote and read to Maya Angelou that evening, awful as it may have been, I have no idea where that poem is.

But I do have a lasting memory of a lovely evening with a lovely woman who began our time together by teaching us how to show respect and regard for a room full of strangers and ended it by inviting us to step outside our comfort zone with a room full of fellow travelers.

When I was very young, the teacher would call the roll in class, and we would each pipe up, “Present.”

Here – I’m here, we meant.

With Maya Angelou, presence meant more than checking a box.

It was, to quote my younger self, something electric.

I can’t think of anyone I’ve ever encountered who was more fully present in life than Maya Angelou, and that was a powerful thing to behold for a 22-year-old overflowing with big dreams and heading out into the real world.

Thank you for that send-off, Phenomenal Woman.

Be someone’s Emily J. Friedrich

I recently came across a business card I had saved for many years for sentimental reasons.

I now have it in a spot where I see it often. I want to be reminded of the story that goes with that simple black-and-white card with "Emily J. Friedrich" in the center.

In the spring of my junior year of college, I was accepted into a summer program on political journalism in Washington, DC. The program would consist of an internship and two classes at Georgetown University. 

The rub? We had to find our own internship. 

Chasing childhood dreams

My daughter is getting ready to graduate from college, and as we talk about her job search, I’ve been thinking back to the pre-Internet days of searching for internships and jobs. Now that there are so many ways to look for opportunities across the world – much less across a couple of state lines, as I was doing that spring – I feel a bit of awe for the old-school hoops we jumped through back then.

I don’t remember everything I did in my search for an internship. I do remember the decision that matters: I took a chance and called the Time-Life Washington bureau. 

When I was growing up, we had huge coffee table books with images from LIFE magazine, and I leafed through them over and over. I loved newspapers, but I had a special place in my heart for news magazines; images were as powerful as the words for me (and sometimes more powerful), and they got more play in magazines. 

Working for the company that had brought this magic into my house was a dream. 

Creating a place

When I called that Washington bureau number, I asked the person who answered if they had internship programs. Instead of saying yes or no, the receptionist sent my call to someone else. 

That someone else was Emily J. Friedrich. 

I had no idea who she was or what she did in the bureau, but I explained why I had called. 

“We don’t have internships,” she said, and 21-year-old me probably thought that would be that. 

But it wasn’t. If I was going to be in the area any time soon, she said, I should let her know. Maybe I could come by and visit the bureau? 

I don’t know if I had the presence of mind to immediately say, “Oh, I will be there soon,” or if I called her back soon after to say so. I do know that there was no doubt in my mind that I would be driving from Winston-Salem to Washington as soon as my class schedule and Emily Friedrich’s schedule dovetailed. There was no way I was letting this chance pass me by; even if it led nowhere, I would get to see the Time-Life bureau. 

Soon after my cold call, I was in Washington, nervously finding my way to a very nice building on Connecticut Avenue to meet Emily, who, as it turned out, worked on the business/admin side of things at the bureau. She had short, stylish hair, wore glasses and had a warm smile that put my jittery self at ease. 

By the end of our conversation, she had suggested that maybe working as a summer newsdesk assistant for TIME would be acceptable for my internship requirement, adding that it would be paid work.

I couldn’t believe my good fortune (I had encountered very few paid internships during college); I may have floated back to North Carolina. 

Behind the scenes

My summer journalism program approved the work at the bureau (no surprise), and while I spent the summer doing mostly intern-level things, I had some opportunities to help with research and to write short items that ended up in TIME. As a perk, they sent me to the Ford’s Theater Gala (which yielded a tiny item), and I brought my sister along as my date. 

But most of all, I had a chance to see how the magazines, especially TIME, came together each week, and to get to know the people behind the stories, some of whom were famous in the journalism world. 

And I got to know Emily and others on the admin side of the bureau and soon came to appreciate the fact that without them, the journalists could not put out any magazines. 

I stayed in touch with Emily and others in the bureau after I went back to college for my final year. After working for a newspaper in North Carolina for two years, I decided to join a friend and move to Washington, a place that I’d become fond of through two summers there. We moved without jobs (brave or stupid, depending on how you look at it), and when I was looking for temporary work to pay the rent, my friends at the Time-Life bureau gave me part-time work there. It was so nice to be in a familiar place with people I knew while I was getting the final pieces of my new life in DC to fall into place. 

It all began with Emily taking a cold call from young me and creating an opportunity where one had not existed – and giving me the chance to learn an important lesson about chutzpah. (When someone asks if you’re going to be in the area, you make sure you’re in the area asap.) 

Emily died far too early due to cancer, but her kindness has lived on for me and has reminded me to pay that kindness forward in any way I can. 

As my daughter graduates and heads out into the work world, I can only hope that someone will be her Emily J. Friedrich.

Quarantine stories

How storytelling can help your business through tough times

In my work, I get to tell the stories of small businesses for an industry magazine, as well as help businesses tell their own stories via websites, blogs, presentations, speeches, etc. 

During my magazine interviews, we spend a good bit of time talking about the company’s history, and it’s common for business owners to bring up the 2008 recession as a milestone. 

“We were having a growth spurt, and then 2008 came along.”

“Less than a year after I started my business, the recession hit.”

“Believe it or not, we found a silver lining in the recession.”

Most of us tend to focus on the big highs and lows when we look back, so it’s not surprising that the recession has come up so often in these conversations. I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately. Everyone I know is trying to wrap their heads around the unprecedented personal, professional and economic challenges and fallout of COVID-19, and none of us know how this part of our story is going to end. 

So given that, why I am talking about stories at such a stressful, uncertain time? 

Because I believe the stories we tell ourselves and others are powerful, even when we don’t know the endings. Here are a few thoughts about how you can use storytelling to help yourself and others through this tough time.

Look back at the earlier chapters of your story.

Think about times when you’ve gone through a crisis – getting fired or laid off, facing a professional failure or disappointment, dealing with a personal or medical crisis, etc.

In the moment, these big life events seem impossible to get through, but most of us have risen above difficult times and gone on to experience success, stability, peace of mind, health (or whatever applies) again. If writing things down helps make things more concrete, make a list of the things you’ve overcome in the past. 

When you’re feeling overwhelmed by the current and/or future effects of the COVID-19 situation, look back at your story and remind yourself that you have a track record of overcoming hard times.

Skitterphoto

Keep a (professional) quarantine journal.
I’ve seen quite a few articles that suggest keeping a personal journal during these strange quarantine days, and it struck me that keeping a quarantine business journal could be interesting and valuable.

If the word “journal” makes you flinch or roll your eyes, come up with your own word for it. Log? List? The point is to keep a record of this time, and the form that takes doesn’t matter. It doesn’t need to be complicated, and you don’t need to spend a lot of time on it, but I think writing things down (whether online or on paper) is worth a few minutes out of your day. Here’s why:

• I don’t think I’m the only one dealing with distraction and lack of focus right now. My mind often feels like a pinball machine, with questions, worries, ideas and assignments bouncing around noisily. Writing these things down as they come along helps me organize that chaos.
  
  This might sound like the kind of note-taking you already do in your online or paper planner, but the quarantine version would zero in on the unique thoughts, concerns and ideas flowing from the situation we’re in now.
  
  Examples: Questions that pop up in the course of the day about unemployment or stimulus programs, cash flow, budgeting; what you need to (or want to) to communicate to clients or customers; brainstorming ideas about how to tweak or reinvent your work or processes. (Brainstorming "rules" are usually pretty loose, holding that no idea is too dumb to put forward because it may spark another idea; this is a good way to approach your quarantine notes.)

  
  If you tend to be a perfectionist about how things are organized and that’s likely to prevent you from ever getting started, try to let go and just commit to making a few stream-of-consciousness notes at the end of the day.

• Use your journal/log/list to keep a running list of the steps you’re taking to manage and overcome your business challenges. It’s so easy to tell ourselves that we’re not doing enough. Writing down what you’ve done so far helps override that negative soundtrack and can help you feel a little more in control.

• Use whatever is easiest – notebook, smartphone, iPad, laptop, etc.

• If you’re feeling inspired, also include non-business details or observations about quarantine life. I’m trying to do this at the end of every day because I think it will become a written time capsule of sorts that my teenage daughter and I will be glad to look back at later. My entries include the odd things we encounter on our daily “cabin fever” walks, the latest quarantine messages our local indie theater is putting on its marquee, the comfort food and snacks we’re gravitating to, what we’re watching, and our virtual visits with family and friends. 

And don’t talk yourself out of keeping notes because you haven’t been doing it from the beginning (I came close to doing this myself). Think back over the past few weeks and jot down whatever comes to mind or just start now. There are no rules.

Share your story to help other people.

Listening to the stories of people who are dealing with the same struggles/uncertainties I’ve faced personally or professionally has always been helpful to me. 

The saying “Misery loves company” can sound mean-spirited on the surface, but the truth is that while I don’t wish misery on anyone else, it is comforting to know I’m not alone in my misery during tough times.

Tracking this strange time in your professional life and turning your notes and observations into stories you can tell (via blog posts or social media or conversations) can at the very least give a shot in the arm to others who may feel they’re the only ones faltering. 

At best, your stories may inspire people and spark ideas/workarounds that may solve some of their biggest frustrations. Stories really do have power.


Share your story to help yourself. 

When I work with businesses on bios or the “About” pages on their websites, we talk about how to make this content more personal and conversational – how to give those who will read it a true sense of who you are as a business person or as a company. Much of the about/company history/bio content I come across on websites sounds like boilerplate, so it’s always refreshing to read company or individual stories that feel real. I’m a firm believer that this helps to inspire trust from the get-go. 

As we continue to deal with COVID-19 challenges, remember that people are drawn to stories and consider the possibility that being transparent about your experiences may have value for your business, too.

Many of us have been doing our best to support the local businesses we know so well. We’ve been ordering from coffee shops and restaurants that are offering curbside pickup, hoping our support can help them weather this huge hit. I’m awed by the creativity and patience my favorite businesses have shown as they’ve continued to serve customers and keep them safe. 

The updates our neighborhood coffee shop (The Third Place in Raleigh, NC) has been sending out are making me an even more loyal customer because they have shared not only their evolving offerings and safety procedures, but also the “journey.” They have been upfront about the learning curves they’ve faced in transitioning to phone and online orders and contactless pick-up. Knowing about the behind-the-scenes struggles makes an impression on me; their story of rising above matters. 

Yours does, too. Share it.  

Photos via Canva. Credits, top to bottom – Victor, Pexels; Suzy Hazelwood; Skitterphoto; Jessica Lewis; Tumisu.

A kind and colorful storyteller

There are many people who knew legendary political cartoonist Dwane Powell far better than I did and who are feeling his loss on a more personal and deep level. But I wanted to put words on paper about Dwane anyway, because I believe there are many people out there who are like me – acquaintances and admirers whose world was made brighter by him and who feel its dimming with his way-too-early death.

Moonlighting 

I probably met Dwane for the first time as a teenager on one of my visits to the News and Observer to tag along with my brother Mark on photo assignments when he worked at the paper. I’m sure I was awestruck to meet a “real” cartoonist.

A few years later, I graduated from college and took a job working as a reporter at the  N&O’s Chapel Hill bureau. I’m sure I crossed paths with Dwane again when I was in the Raleigh newsroom for meetings. After a couple of years at the paper, I quit and moved to Washington, where I wound up working as a magazine editor for a nonprofit called Public Citizen. 

People talk about shoestring budgets, but the money we could spend on art and photography made our budget more of a fraction of a shoestring. This was the early 90s, and there was no online world full of inexpensive or free stock photography or illustrations. It was a challenge to find talented people who were willing to do the work for our measly fees, and the fact that the articles were about wonky political and consumer topics didn’t help. Asking people to produce complex photographs or illustrations for very little money was an uphill battle that also made the magazine staff feel guilty. On top of that, it was not exactly a “looker” of a magazine.

Somewhere along the way, I thought about Dwane, knowing he would understand the political and rabble-rousing nature of Public Citizen, and that his sense of humor would bring some welcome comic relief. Looking back, I’m a little shocked that I had the nerve to call and ask him (because of course I would have had to call him back then – we didn’t have the option of asking big favors via the relative comfort of a faceless email). 

I don’t remember the details of the conversation, but I do know Dwane was gracious when he heard my pitch and kindly agreed to create a freelance illustration for an upcoming story. 

My guess is that he said yes because he loved a creative assignment, even if it was for an unknown magazine that paid badly, and because he wanted to help out the little sister of a former N&O colleague. I could not find any old copies of the magazine with his work in it, but not too long ago, I was looking through a box of mementos from my Washington days and found a fax cover sheet that had probably accompanied some sketches from Dwane: At the bottom was a caricature of Jesse Helms. 

Who wouldn’t have treasured that and saved it?

A simple gesture

I kept up with his career over the years, but decades went by before we reconnected via Facebook. 

In 2014, he posted on Facebook that he and his lovely wife, Jan, were going on a trip that included Prague, a city I have had much affection for since working there in the mid-90s. I commented on his post with what was probably a fervent recommendation for my favorite restaurant, the Palffy Palac. Dwane later took time to message me and let me know that he and Jan had gone there on their last night in Prague, and that it was still much as I had described it. 

He also attached a photo he had taken of the candlelit restaurant, which was a lovely small gesture. I haven’t been back to Prague since I moved back to the US in 1996, and getting a glimpse of this place I’d loved and knowing that Dwane and Jan had trusted my suggestion and had a meal there meant a lot. 

I knew that Dwane took beautiful photos, and I told him that if he and Jan ever had time to meet for coffee, I’d love to hear about their trip and see some of his Prague images. I mentioned bringing my daughter along, thinking I could rope her into seeing photos of the place I once lived and give her a chance to meet one of North Carolina’s most famous creative forces.

As it turned out, cancer came into both our families’ lives not long after, and we never did have coffee and talk about Prague. After learning via Facebook that my sister was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer in 2015, he let me know about his own diagnosis.

“My bout with cancer has been a real wake up call,” he wrote, “and I've finally made a serious effort to organize and archive my work from 40 years. The Southern History Collection at UNC is getting it. I went to the paper today to check on the files, and they are still there, dated, catalogued, with all index cards. This will really help the folks at UNC, especially on the digitization process. Onward.” 

The treasures of the Interwebs
The remarkable thing about these interactions with Dwane is that none of them took place in person. Each of these encounters made me appreciate his kindness and warmth, but as the news of his death hit me, I realized that it was not any one personal experience I had with Dwane that was resonating so much with me. It was all of the life that Dwane shared with all of his friends and acquaintances via Facebook, that platform that most of us have a love-hate relationship with.

The cartoons that he is best-known for have kept many of us going through many a rough time in North Carolina, including the most recent tough times, but it is the photographs that he took such joy in sharing on Facebook that brought me so much joy in turn. 

He had amazing photos and stories of earlier generations of his family, and as a history buff who loves old photos, I was always drawn in by those. And it sounds a bit cliched, but his photos of places transported me to those places; curiosity and attention to detail make for great photos. 

But I believe it was Dwane’s photos of his family that were the most striking and memorable to those of us fortunate enough to be in his Facebook community. 

There were photos of his daughter Devon and her family, which of course included many loving photos of his grandson Myles.

And while I have never met Dwane’s wife, Jan, you sure can tell how much he loved her through the photos he posted — from classic photos of their dating days right up to his images chronicling their new downtown life and explorations. A couple of years ago , I saw for the first time the little plastic accordion-style photo insert that my father had in his wallet when he died in 1972; I was touched to see that along with photos of me and my siblings, he carried photos of my mom from their courting days in the early 50s. It’s a lovely thing when people continue to cherish and celebrate their own love stories, and Dwane was always celebrating Jan.

Social media is no doubt an odd universe, but the down sides recede when you consider how creative people like Dwane enhance your day-to-day life by taking you along and letting you see what piques their curiosity and brings them joy.

He was a skillful storyteller no matter what medium he chose, and I am so grateful to have been part of his audience. 

Onward, Dwane. 

~ Carla Atkinson

"Our work doesn't speak for itself."

Last year, I stopped by the Little Free Library a couple of blocks from my house and found a small square, inviting book titled SHOW YOUR WORK. The author’s name was familiar to me; Austin Kleon is probably best-known for his book STEAL LIKE AN ARTIST.

After leafing through SHOW YOUR WORK, I happily took the book home. I remember thinking that the universe had delivered it to that Little Free Library just for me.

The book is, after all, about one of my biggest hurdles. I do a lot of writing related to personal projects (rather than paid client work), and I often let it sit in folders on my laptop instead of showing it out in the world.

SHOW YOUR WORK has been a great nudging, encouraging force for me, but it also included a section that speaks to one of my deeply felt beliefs about business writing: You need to tell the story of your business well in order to connect with the people you hope to work with and help.

Your story should have a human element, color, warmth and real-ness. It should not be a recitation of facts. “X company was founded in X year to provide X for X customers. It has grown X amount and provides X services.” Because I’ve already provided a sample of a more colorful way to tell a business story elsewhere on my website (you can read that here), I won’t recreate the wheel in this post. Instead, I’ll share Austin Kleon’s wise words via these screen-grabs from his book, which has a fun, inviting design.

I hope this will inspire you to think about your business story in a new way.

~ Carla Atkinson

August 13, 2018

Every week, I look forward to Tim Ferriss' Five-Bullet Friday emails, in which he shares five things he is “enjoying or pondering.”

In the space of a week, I come across many great stories, interviews, images, ideas, products, etc. I decided to take a page from Ferriss (imitation being the highest form of flattery, as the saying goes) and begin saving some of my favorite things to share once a week. 

Tim has Friday covered masterfully, so I chose Monday, a day that many of us have a hard time facing (especially in August). For now, I’m calling these posts Monday Kickstarts; choosing what to share will be a challenge and maybe the best part? 

I hope you enjoy this first list. 

Images

Two mind-boggling structures won the week for me:

• From @dezeen on Instagram: 

"A curved golden bridge held up by two giant hands, designed by TA Landscape Architecture, has opened to the public near Da Nang in central Vietnam. See more images of the bridge on dezeen.com/architecture."

#Architecture #Bridges #Vietnam

• From @designboom, also on Instagram: 

"@juergen.mayer.h's metropol parasol snakes through #seville's urban center. a dense fabric of organically woven and undulating panels compose the space and starkly contrast the medieval environment that surrounds it. 📸 by @nicanorgarcia."

Radio/podcasts

• A Songwriting Mystery Solved: Math Proves John Lennon Wrote 'In My Life’

NPR – Weekend Edition with Scott Simon (August 11, 2018)

This English major still struggles with math, but stories like this one draw me in (and make me wish I had not told myself a tall tale growing up — i.e., that I would  never be “good” at math).

•  Terry Tempest Williams: "Beauty is not optional–it is a strategy for survival" 
  A Phone Call with Paul podcast

If you’re up for a deep, thoughtful, thought-provoking almost-hour, I think you’ll enjoy this conversation. 

This interview was a great example of connection … kismet? (not sure I can come up with the right word) between interviewer and subject. Paul Holdengraber, Director of LIVE from the NY Public Library (and one of my favorite people to follow on Twitter), interviews writer, conservationist and activist Terry Tempest Williams. (I have long admired her; I had a chance to hear her speak at an environmental writing conference when I was twenty-something and working for an environmental research institute in Washington.)

As the website sums it up: “In this episode of A Phone Call With Paul, Paul Holdengraber plays music from Terry Tempest Williams’ childhood and talks to her about beauty, the twin elements of joy and sorrow, and the power and importance of the human voice.”

There were many snippets I found myself scrambling to write down, including this one: “I love the paradox that our voices are born out of solitude, and silence is a conversation.” 

We have so many things competing for our attention now – so many crazy headlines every hour, not just every day – and I don't take nearly enough deep dives into "big life" topics like those Holdengraber and Tempest Williams waxed poetic about in this interview.

READING

• The Oldest Treasures From 12 Great Libraries
  From Atlas Obscura (one of my favorite sources of intriguing stories) 

If you love treasures and history and libraries, I think you’ll enjoy this one:

“In the history of writing, bound books as we know them today arrive fairly late, so there are no actual ‘books’ on this list. Instead, this is a wondrous collection of illuminated manuscripts, papyrus scrolls, and clay tablets.”

(One of these treasures is “the earliest surviving cookbook in the West.”)

• Best "truth is stranger than fiction" story of the week
  Associated Press
  

Here's the full story: Man who jumped out of freezer and died was cold-case suspect

 

Daily habit (+ product)

• “Five-Minute” journaling

I’m giving another shout-out to Tim Ferriss for this one; Ferriss has talked many times in his podcasts about his habit of beginning and ending his day with “five-minute” journaling – jotting down short entries in the morning and at the end of day. The company Intelligent Change makes a Five-Minute Journal ($22.95) inspired by Ferriss’ approach, and it’s become a valuable part of my routine. 

See the photos to get an idea of the prompts and format; the quotations are my favorite part of the design. (Apologies for the large photo size; technical glitch with the platform that I hope to resolve later.)

If you’d rather not buy a journal, you can easily make your own, of course. (I don’t get anything if you buy one from Intelligent Change.)

I hope you found something on the inaugural Monday Kickstart list that struck your fancy – have a great week.

~Carla 

Favorite things: Listening to interviews with medical storyteller Oliver Sacks

I struggled with science in college, mostly because remembering all of the details and processes and being able to play them back on an exam didn't come easily.  Math was an even greater challenge. (I could blow an essay test on an obscure piece of literature or bit of history out of the water, however.)

Much later, I figured out that I might have been far more successful academically in the sciences if the teaching had included more storytelling. It wasn't that I didn't like science; I just needed a better way in.

Oliver Sacks, who would have been 85 today, was one of the great science and medicine storytellers who could make concepts beyond my experience and background come alive for me. His anecdotes and insights about the human mind and body stayed with me long after I listened to interviews he gave. And I specifically call out his interviews because for me, there was something gentle yet compelling and powerful about his voice.

On his birthday, I'm passing along two links to interviews Sacks did with Terry Gross for NPR's Fresh Air. The first one, about his book The Mind's Eye, is one of my all-time favorite radio interviews (or "podcast episodes," as we usually say now). I think it's especially memorable because Sacks, who wrote so compassionately about the unusual medical challenges he encountered in his patients, talks of his own unusual struggles after treatment for an aggressive tumor in his eye.

If you love great science storytelling, too, listen to these Oliver Sacks interviews on your next run or commute:

Oliver Sacks: A Neurologist Examines 'The Mind's Eye'

Oliver Sacks, Exploring How Hallucinations Happen

You may also enjoy this post on one of my favorite blogs, Brainpickings: Oliver Sacks on Storytelling, the Curious Psychology of Writing, and What His Poet Friend Taught Him About the Nature of Creativity.

Magazine-making joy

I'm happy to be adding magazine editing/writing back into my work mix.

I was introduced to the Cabinet Makers Association through my work with a longtime client, Dark Horse Woodworks, and the CMA invited me to take over managing editor/writing duties for its quarterly magazine, PROfiles.

Before and after

I grew up appreciating wood-working, building and craftsmanship. Slowly but surely, my dad built an ambitious addition to our house in his spare time at night and on the weekends, and he built furniture, too. Given that my longtime client (and high school classmate), my next-door neighbor and my nephew are professionals in the wood-working field in one way or another (furniture designers/builders or cabinetmakers), I find it especially interesting to write about and for this trade group.

To put the proverbial icing on the cake, I found that a former graphic designer I worked with for many years in a corporate in-house design group also has her own business now, and she agreed to take on the redesign and layout work for the magazine. 

The first “new” PROfiles issue came out this summer just ahead of a major CMA member event at a big industry trade show, and the word from my CMA clients is that “everyone loved it.”

In short, the new version has more content – including a news roundup and more features – and a cleaner design.

The cover story features James Fox, who says he spent a lot of time and money on higher education before figuring out that cabinet-making was the one thing that he never lost interest in; though we're programmed to think that bigger is better, Fox has made a point of staying small. He has remained a solo practitioner because it allows him the flexibility to shut down and travel regularly; this summer, he spent six weeks in Europe. 

Writing about the craftsmanship and entrepreneurial success of these cabinetmakers is truly a pleasure.  

Print allure

I wrote and edited for magazines for about 14 years, and that work was among the most creative and satisfying of my career. 

For the most part, the magazines I worked on were not the glossy ones most of us have on our coffee tables; they were wonkier publications put out by great nonprofit organizations. They delved into topics such as consumer advocacy and sustainable environmental practices, and one focused on political, economic and social changes in post-Soviet-bloc countries (this job brought me the opportunity to live in Prague). 

What I learned from those experiences is that when you are working as a magazine editor, you have to put aside your own ideas of what an ideal magazine looks like; for me, it was probably LIFE magazine, which I loved from childhood on, in large part because of my love of great photojournalism. A magazine has to speak to its readers, and you have to be careful to put your personal inclinations aside and shape it for your audience. My hope for the CMA's PROfiles magazine is that members with shops of all sizes and types will enjoy what they see and find something useful and/or inspirational in each issue.

I loved each and every one of the magazines I worked on, and leafing through the new CMA issue reminded me of the joy of creating a tangible, printed piece of work. The Internet and all of its shiny, beckoning links is a wild and wondrous and dangerous place for someone like me, who can get drawn down the rabbit hole quickly. 

There’s an old-fashioned allure to a single, finite issue of a magazine.

Have any writing/storytelling work you’d like to delegate? I’d love to collaborate.

Read the story of my particularly fun, logistically challenging job as managing editor of the official magazine about the making of The Lord of the Rings movies. (It involved many time zones and at least one post-midnight conversation with a well-known actor.)

Favorite things: go to your happy place with this sound mix app

Move your sound icons around to make them more or less prominent in your mix. 

Distracted at work? Stressed? Sleepless? Maybe you should try firing up the TaoMix app and going to your customized happy place. Sitting by a crackling fire in the woods with wind blowing through the trees? Campfire on the beach with the sound of ocean waves? Sitting in a coffee shop with a crackling fire and the sound of rain on the roof? 

For years, I used the free version of the app TaoMix (from inookta studio inc.) to give me a relaxing backdrop of ocean breezes, rain or other nature sounds. In the free version, you only have access to some of the sounds in the app’s library, and for a long time, I was satisfied with those and just ignored the other options listed.

But in trying to get into a better sleep groove, I began looking at all the sounds in the library and decided it was time to get the paid version. 

Creating your own sound prescription

With the full library to play with, I figured out for the first time the true beauty of the app – the ability to layer sounds to create an atmosphere that lulls you, stimulates you, comforts you, or simply takes you to a favorite place when you can’t go there yourself. 

I’m just sorry I didn’t commit to the paid version earlier. 

I work from a home office, and sometimes the solitude and/or the neighborhood sounds (currently: a house being built across the street) make me wish I could snap my fingers and be somewhere else. Sound mixes help, whether they conjure up nature or other environments that are more appealing than the buzzing, growling and clanking of construction equipment. (TaoMix includes non-nature ambient options, too, such as the sound of a train, a fan blowing or a coffee shop's murmurs and clinking.) 

A few examples of the mixes I’ve created so far and the sounds that go into them: 

• A hike in the woods: Walk in the forest (footsteps on leaves) + wind in trees + birds in the forest
• Three Pines bistro from author Louise Penny’s Inspector Gamache novels on a cold rainy day (friends finally convinced me to start reading this mystery series set in an idyllic Canadian village, and this mix made me think of the inviting bistro where many scenes in the book take place): Busy coffee shop + fireplace + medium rain + distant thunder
• Beach campfire: Fire camp + medium waves + sea breeze 
• Campfire in the woods with storm coming: Fire camp + wind in trees + distant thunder
• Lying in bed in an old oceanfront beach cottage on a stormy night: Sea breeze + light rain on a roof + medium thunder + agitated ocean

The app's creators also paid great attention to detail, giving you the ability to choose how prominent or subtle each sound in your mix should be. If you move a sound icon closer to the circle in the center of your phone screen (as pictured in the screen shot above), it will be amplified; far from the circle, it will be far more muted. 

This feature is the icing on the cake for me; there are certain sounds that I like but can easily dominate a mix or be too distracting from the overall effect if they're too loud. 

Work hack or personal hack

If sounds are powerful for you, I’ve found that there are plenty of situations where the app works well. 

As mentioned, I use it during the work day in my home office when I need (good) sounds in the background but am not in the mood to listen to music. Had I thought about it at the time, it would have been an ideal antidote to the distraction and oddness of working in an “open office” environment a couple of years ago. For many reasons, the open office trend has never appealed to me, and one of the drawbacks was the fact that I could no longer create a workspace with any personal stamp on it (in a true open office scenario, your belongings stay in a drawer, and you have to find your seat every day). 

I think the TaoMix app would have made open office work easier on two fronts: Blocking out distraction, of course, and possibly helping me feel – on a subconscious level anyway – that I could create a space of my own each day, even if it was a virtual space.

And on a personal level, it’s been a great addition to my night-time routine; when winding down or falling asleep, I usually go for a mix of rain, wind, ocean waves and the like (with the occasional frog or cricket sounds thrown in). 

Want to try it? 

TaoMix is available in the iTunes app store and for Android. When I was searching for these links, I discovered that a new version, TaoMix 2, has been released, so you may want to check out that version, too.

Confetti, failure, powerful moments

Better late than never: 7 things that stuck with me after the 2016 Hopscotch Design Festival

I hemmed and hawed about whether to go to September’s Hopscotch Design Festival in Raleigh. (I’m not a designer, after all.)

I was looking to be jostled out of a rut, get some inspiration and meet creative people. (And in particular, I wanted to meet some local creative people, as all of my current clients live in other states.)

Finally, just a few days before the festival, I decided that Hopscotch was a good bet to deliver those things, even for a writer, and I signed up.

I was right.

Here are some of the takeaways–big, small, and in some cases, very personal–that I’m still thinking about two-plus months later.

Caveat: There were many intriguing presentations and compelling talks that I don’t include here. This isn’t intended to be a ‘best of’ list — just think of it as a ‘memorable for me’ list. (And apologies for the not-so-crisp iPhone photos.)

1. I need a drawer filled with confetti.

Tina Roth Eisenberg, graphic designer, creative entrepreneur, and founder of CreativeMornings and Tattly, told of the morale- and joy-boosting drawer of confetti that is always at the ready in her work space.

(I’m not even remotely cleaning-obsessed, but I have to admit to wondering what kind of powerful vacuum cleaner they keep around the office.)

Given that I keep some of our family Legos around to build with when I can’t stand to write another word, Eisenberg felt like a kindred spirit.

2. Pay extra-close attention to the things that tickle — or offend — your senses.

Your reaction just might lead to a great business idea, as it did for Eisenberg after one of her kids came home and handed her an ugly temporary tattoo, begging her to put it on. Check out Tattly, the business that sprang from this moment.

And check out the complimentary “Party Watch” Tattly tattoo that I got at Hopscotch (this is a screenshot from the website, as my tattoo is long-gone, of course):

And if you peer closely enough at this photo, you can also read her great list of advice to her younger self (though you had to be there and hear all of her context and great storytelling to fully appreciate the list).

3. Design principles are being applied to many things, including crucial social issues.

One thought-provoking Hopscotch design panel included locals Erin White of the Community Food Lab and Shana Overdorf, Executive Director of the Raleigh-Wake Partnership to End Homelessness, and Terry Irwin, head of the School of Design at Carnegie Mellon University, whose research focuses on design for society and the environment, 

In retrospect, applying design thinking to these complex problems seems like a no-brainer, but seeing the time devoted to this topic during the festival was a welcome surprise for this longtime nonprofit writer.

4. If you need to shake things up, committing to a daily creative challenge may just do the trick.

Artist and illustrator Daniel Horowitz shared examples of the striking work that came out of the year-long artistic experiment he wrote about in this designboom post in 2012:

“working primarily as a digital artist over the last decade, I considered what might happen if I were to pull out a blank page and begin to draw. not on commission and with no particular purpose in mind. The self-imposed minimum, one drawing a day, was to serve as an exercise to pull myself away from the computer and to begin to explore analog creativity.”

At the Hopscotch session, he spoke to the thing that many of us struggle with and how the project freed him:

“Perfection was ... paralyzing me. It was thrilling to not be too concerned about the end result.”

I was so taken by the session and the work he was sharing that it was difficult for me to leave early to get to my next workshop. (This was a common problem for me; there were often sessions going on at the same time that sounded equally interesting.)

The Horowitz talk was not the first time this year that I had thought about adopting a daily creative discipline. Of all of the people who write about business and avocations and work, Seth Godin is probably at the top of my list. He gave himself the challenge years ago of writing a blog post every day, and something about that discipline has clearly worked for him.

His posts are almost always short and to the point, and they come with no photos or embellishments — just a few paragraphs that always seem to have just what I needed that day, whether it’s kind encouragement or a crack of the whip to get me out of a (usually self-induced) slump.

I have yet to commit to a daily creative habit, but revisiting the Daniel Horowitz presentation all these weeks later is inspiring me. It’s time to start writing something every single day that I can post without the interference of my perfectionistic inner editor.

5. Hopscotch turned out to deliver exactly what I had in mind when I signed up: A chance to meet new and interesting people.

It just didn’t happen exactly the way I’d expected that it would.

Mayor McFarlane helping to kick off the conference

Chance meeting #1:

During the keynote by author and researcher Dan Heath, we were asked to find another person nearby to talk with about two questions Heath posed to us. Raleigh Mayor Nancy McFarlane was just down the row from me, so we did the exercise together. I enjoyed hearing her answers, especially the one about who we would have dinner with if we could choose anyone (we decided that it could be anyone, dead or alive).

I will not give away her answers, as I’m sure she gets weary of having her every remark reported, but Mayor, if you see this, I would love to know the name of that historical figure you find fascinating so I can do a little research on him myself.

Chance meeting #2:

On the first day of the conference, I was wandering around downtown in search of a place to eat lunch; the first several I tried weren’t open. Standing on a street corner waiting for the light to change, I noticed that the woman next to me was wearing a Hopscotch Design Fest lanyard, and I asked if she was enjoying the conference. She was on a quest for a lunch spot, too, and we decided to eat together. I won’t violate her privacy either, but the short version is that she has been involved for years in important creative work that touches on both history and social issues in North Carolina. We had so many interests in common that our street corner meeting seemed like serendipity of the highest order. We have kept in touch, and I just did an editing project for her.

6. Don’t forget the power of the moments in your life.

Dan Heath asked us to keep the details of his keynote to ourselves because he and his brother, Chip, are coming out with a book soon that will feature new research related to the keynote topic. So to give context without giving away any details, I’ll just share a line from the Hopscotch Design Fest description of his presentation:

“What if we could reverse-engineer the most meaningful, memorable experiences of our lives — and then use what we learned to create more of them?”

To illustrate this thesis, Heath brought everyone in the room together to create an encouraging, funny moment for the mother of an audience member.

Heath’s theme was familiar territory for me in a bittersweet way.

My sister died in May, less than a year after getting a Stage 4 cancer diagnosis, and as her only close family member in Raleigh, I became her “person” and the organizer of the truly amazing friends I call the Village People.

I knew she did not have a lot of time, and much of my thinking over that almost-year had to do with how we could create uplifting moments for her in the midst of chemo and hospital stays and being stuck at home.

Early on, when she was still doing well, a moment was as simple as suggesting that my sister, my teenage daughter and I stop at the nearby party store when we were out having lunch on the Fourth of July. We tried on every crazy July 4th hat they had, and walked out with two festive tiaras, a red cowgirl hat and a flag bandanna.

As time went by, my family and my sister's friends realized that we didn’t have time to simply wait and see what memorable things happened on their own. We had to make things happen, and yet be careful to ensure that nothing we did seemed too orchestrated or forced.

My sister never stopped hoping she would outrun the cancer, even when it was obvious to everyone around her that she could not, and it would have been a slap in the face of her strength and unwavering hope if we seemed to be creating a series of “last” experiences. There is a fine line between seizing the day and over-reaching.

One of the best moments of her last year involved my sister’s longtime friend hauling her, a wheelchair and an oxygen tank across the Triangle to a performance of the Dance Theater of Harlem two weeks after my sister left the hospital in an incredibly weakened state. Her friend made a flyer that she stuck to the wall beside my dancer/choreographer sister’s bed the day she came home, directing her to rest up because they would be attending. My sister was feeling so rough at the time that I couldn’t wrap my head around how this scheme was ever going to work, but it did: They not only made it to the performance, but were able to stay until the end. My sister was wiped out afterward, but loved it. It's amazing what combined will, strength and stubbornness can do. 

And a month or so before she died, I rounded up a handful of gardening friends for a party of sorts. They showed up at my sister’s house on a Sunday morning and spent several hours doing the weeding, planting, mulching and general beautifying that my sister, a passionate gardener, could not do in her yard. What she was able to do that day was sit on the front porch and talk shop about plants with fellow gardeners who shared her love of digging and exploring and transforming.

Heath's keynote was a good reminder that we need to make the important moments happen for ourselves now, and not wait until we are up against illness and a timeline.

I’m betting that the Heaths’ new book will have a lot to say about how to do that.

7. If you can hang on, failure often will take you to a happier or wiser or more fitting place. Or a new beginning.

Debbie Millman, Chief of Marketing of Sterling Brands and host of the Design Matters podcast, closed out the festival by sharing what turned out to be an epic story of overcoming tough times in her professional life.

I believe that misery truly does love company, and not because we all delight in seeing others suffer; I think that seeing other people slog through hard times is sometimes the only thing that keeps us going. It’s important to be reminded that we are not the only ones.

Millman has been through some tough (and public) professional lows, and she didn’t sugarcoat them; I winced a few times as she told her story.

I’ve heard people talk about failure before and not been nearly as affected as I was by Millman’s warm and funny but no-holds-barred talk about how tough times can wind around to happy endings.

Her story resonated deeply with me, and still does all these weeks later as I think about my professional trajectory.

Circumstances fell into place while my sister was sick that allowed me to change my work situation (a combination of stable freelance work and a part-time corporate writing job) to concentrate solely on my freelance business; this gave me the flexibility I needed to be able to help my sister and also keep my teenager’s life as close to normal as possible.

After my sister died, the phrase “life is short” took on new intensity for me, and I thought a lot about the time we spend working. I’ve found over the years that full-time writing jobs often end up involving very little writing and creative work and a whole lot of what boils down to paper-pushing, cat-herding and project management. (To say those are not my primary skills/interests is an understatement.) 

So I made a leap of faith and decided to continue working entirely for myself, at least for the time being. I’m writing web content and blogs for my regular small business clients (and always searching for more, of course); I’m doing one-off writing and editing projects; and I’m also devoting time to personal writing projects that may or may not ever pay but are satisfying in many other ways.

Some days feel suspenseful at best and terrifying at worst, but there is also a bit of a thrill in trying to honor the sometimes hard-won knowledge that life is short and should be spent, as much as is humanly possible, doing work that you love.

Thanks for a memorable experience, New Kind and Hopscotch Design Festival planners; I'm glad I joined you.

Postscript: The dates for the 2017 Hopscotch Design Festival have just been announced — September 7 and 8. You can keep track of plans at hopscotchdesignfest.com.

Carla Atkinson has worked in the nonprofit and for-profit worlds as a reporter, magazine editor/writer, marketing copywriter and business communicator, and now writes for a variety of clients at ATKINSONWORDS. Past work includes serving as editor of the New Line Cinema-sponsored magazine about the making of The Lord of the Rings film trilogy; working as a senior editor at Transition, a Prague-based magazine about political, economic and cultural changes in post-Soviet bloc countries in the mid-90s; helping to start CollegeBound, a nonprofit mentoring and scholarship program for kids in Washington, DC; and writing for SAS, GlaxoSmithKline and Duke Cancer Center, among many other companies/organizations.

Favorite things: The Bangor, Maine, Police Department Facebook page

A few months back, my friend Sarah Jessica (no, not that one, though my friend Sarah Jessica should have her own TV show, too) shared a Facebook post from a faraway police department that in and of itself should have zero practical interest for me. 

But the post was so entertaining – droll, sarcastic, clever, sincere – that I immediately “liked” the Bangor PD page so I could read more. Its posts, written by Sergeant Tim Cotton, have become one of my favorite social media reading pleasures. 

What’s so great about it? 

It’s unexpected. 

It’s well-written. 

It’s real and human and conversational (all of the qualities I stand on my writer/editor soapbox and plead for so often). 

And Sgt. Cotton’s excellent posts have plenty of variety, too. The weekly “Got Warrants?” feature, in which he hilariously recounts the most entertaining incidents that the Bangor PD has dealt with during the previous week, seems to be the fan favorite. His Duck of Justice posts have inspired fans from around the world (truly) to stop by the Bangor PD to say hello and get their picture taken with the "DOJ," which is the department’s mascot.

            Screenshot from the Bangor PD Facebook page

You can read more about Sgt. Cotton in this great piece by Kara Sassone for Link: the Journal of Higher Education Web Professionals. Sassone explains the Duck of Justice: 

The taxidermied duck that had been in the county’s District Attorney’s office was destined for the trash when Cotton salvaged him and started introducing new officers with interviews with the DOJ. Over time, the DOJ has become a permanent fixture on the Facebook page and in the station. Cotton expanded the pictures from just new officers to special visitors, and now people from all over the world come into the station to have their picture taken with the duck. 

(The article features a photo of Sassone and her family posing with the DOJ.)

Heart, soul and humor

I could pull many examples to show you why I’m a fan of Sgt. Cotton’s posts, but here are two that show his impressive range as a writer. 

First, a tribute to a hero named Bernie: 

Saturday shout out to Bernard Skarda from all of us at the Bangor Police Department and the fine folks at the Bangor City Hall.

Bernie is an employee of River City Cleaning Service but has been assigned to our city hall for the past 19 years.

Bernie was just doing his job last week when he discovered someone in medical distress in one of the restrooms. It was after hours and with most of the building inaccessible at that time, Bernie summoned help and aided the individual until help arrived.

Bernie made it possible for Officer David Farrar to get inside and render medical aid until the paramedics from the finest fire department in Maine showed up to get the individual out and to the hospital.

It is not lost on us that the person could have lost their life if it were not for Bernie's quick action.

I say it all the time, but it bears repeating, take an opportunity to notice the people that take care of our facilities and do the tough jobs all around you. The importance of a person should not be determined by the floor they work on or that they have their own parking space.

Instead of spending our time trying to impress the bigwigs, maybe we should take a moment to notice the people that get it done. Bernie is one of those people. He also wears a cowboy hat. 

That is awesome.

                     (Screenshot from the Bangor PD Facebook page)

Officer Farrar presented a Bangor Police Department challenge coin to Bernie this week. It is merely a token of how we feel about what he did.

We think it will be a good weekend at Bernie’s.

Keep your hands to yourself, leave other people's things alone and be kind to one another.

Take time to notice everyone's contribution to your life.

We will be here.

TC

Got warrants? 

Here’s a recent example of the popular weekly feature that made me laugh: 

Officer Zach Carey (former boy band member) asked me to help identify this young lady. She was "partially" shopping at Walmart on the 17th and missed one step in the process, stopping at the register to pay for the selected beauty products.

Officer Carey requests that you send him an email if you know the lady or can direct him to someone that does know the woman.

… Officer Carey is new here and needs to solve just three more cases to get the BPD-blender/toaster combo for his kitchenette.

The post also features surveillance camera footage of the young lady who “partially shopped.” 

I highly recommend that you visit the page itself and scroll through past posts, especially if you're in dire need of a dose of humor and humanity. As noted above, I am far from the first person to discover and write about the Bangor, Maine, Facebook page, so you can read more at the links below:

How the Bangor Maine Police Department Changed the Rules for Facebook

Meet the officer behind the Bangor Maine Police Department’s viral Facebook page

Meanwhile, think about Sgt. Cotton and his masterful command of storytelling the next time you’re getting ready to post to your accounts. The bar has been set high. 

Carla Atkinson writes blogs and social media posts for clients as part of her writing and editing work. (Need help with yours? Get in touch.)

Coaching writers to the finish line of their dream projects

After 30-plus years working as a writer and editor, I recently decided to add 'coach' to my titles. 

A few years back, I started writing kids’ fiction and other creative projects on the side, which was a big leap after mostly writing about fairly serious and/or technical topics at work. 

But making time for these personal projects turned out to be challenging; when faced with “real” work, family responsibilities and day-to-day minutiae, guess what always ended up at the bottom of the to-do list? 

Getting past it

I know I’m not the only one out there who struggles with this. You have a project that you’re excited about – a book, a piece of music, an art project, etc. – but you can’t ever seem to make yourself set the time aside to work on it. 

So what might help you get past that hesitation and actually do the work? Depending on your wiring, getting an outside push from someone on a regular basis may work really well. 

That’s what virtual “habit” coaches do — and what I've signed up to do for others who want to keep their creative and/or personal projects moving forward. 

Proof point

I decided to coach people on creative habits because coaching worked for me. 

I had been trying to change my unhealthy carb-loving eating habits for several years, but I had a lot of stressful things going on, and I never made any progress. (If you left it up to me, I would happily restrict my diet to bread of every variety, pizza, pasta, sandwiches and french fries ... oh, and pie and ice cream. No salad, no vegetables.)

After reading Better than Before, a book on the connection between personality and habit change by author Gretchen Rubin, I filed myself into Rubin’s “obliger” category – meaning that I am great at responding to commitments to others (work deadlines or volunteer commitments, for instance), but not great at meeting personal goals.  

The Rubin book, as well as podcasts by author and master experimenter Tim Ferriss, convinced me that it was worth doing my own experiment: Getting some "outer accountability" for the habit I was trying to change. 

(Outer accountability could be described as a fancy way of saying "someone/something to nudge or nicely nag you.”)

So last March, I signed up with a wonderful online coach, Dorothy Stainbrook, on the website Coach.me.

It worked. And it worked at a time when I could easily have justified comfort food; my sister had cancer and was near the end of her life. I was leading her village of helpers, doing my single working parent thing and trying to keep my teenager's life as normal as possible. 

Miraculously, that coaching relationship helped me at last feel in control of one area of my life at a time when very little else was under control. 

There was a certain comfort in having my coach check in with me, review what I was eating every day (via an app) and give me tips and recipes. As a result of Dorothy's coaching and a great blueprint (the Slow-Carb approach), I changed my eating habits drastically. 

And there has been another healthy bonus: Losing weight. That wasn't my focus/goal, but you'd be amazed how much you lose when you stop eating mostly bad or nutritionally worthless carbs.

A PERSONAL TRAINER FOR THE MIND? 

When I was considering working with a coach, I questioned whether this was a legitimate expense for me. I'm used to paying for other services, but this was new territory. In the end, I decided it was similar to getting a gym membership – if it would help me get over this hurdle at last and end up with healthier habits, it seemed well worth the fee to get daily encouragement and check-ins from my coach. (The fact that I could cancel any time also made it a lot easier for me, the skeptic, to finally make the decision to give it a go.)

Now that I know the end of the story, I can say it was definitely worth the money ($15 a week). Making this change had been on  my New Year's Resolutions and Big Life "to do" lists for years; the fact that I finally made it happen was a shot in the arm. 

If that outer nudging could help me conquer eating habits, who knew what other goals coaching might help with? 

Coaching for creative PARALYSIS

My success with coaching was so surprising and striking to me that it seemed clear that I could apply my perspective as a writer/editor and my experience with Coach.me to help fellow writers/creative people in the same way – providing accountability and encouragement to finish those projects that get stuck in limbo.

This limbo is something I understand all too well; I can get very excited about an idea but find myself paralyzed when the time comes to getting it out of my head and onto the page; same goes for revising the work that I've managed to draft. 

Some of you may have critique or writing groups that help keep you honest about your goals, and if so, that's great.

But if you are doing this on your own and have a project you want very badly to finish (or if you just want to establish a habit), I can encourage you and keep you on track.

Worth it? 

Whether it's worth it to pay for encouragement and accountability on your creative projects is something that only you can decide.  When I think of past projects that were sidetracked by my paralysis, it makes me wish online coaching had been on my radar earlier; finishing those projects would have been worth the cost of a few weeks of coaching to me.

Maybe you, too, will find that it's worth it to have someone in the picture who is regularly reminding you that you have permission to work on these projects (I believe we often need this permission from ourselves even more than from the people in our lives) and giving you encouragement and nudging to carve out time for your writing.

Interested in experimenting with coaching? Visit my page on Coach.me. 

Regardless, good luck with your writing or other personal creative work – however you manage to make it happen, it will be worth it in the end. 

~ Carla Atkinson

‘… MAYBE STORIES ARE JUST DATA WITH A SOUL.’

I wrote this blog post in the early days of my business, and recently moved it over to this new site along with other existing posts; after all, there are some core writing/communications principles that don't go out of style.  When I glanced back over this post, though, I was taken aback to realize that it may seem quaint and dated.
Part of this uphill battle I fought for so many years has been won, at least at a high level: These days, everyone talks about the importance of story-telling, my long-time "soapbox" cause.

But I'll keep this post in the mix because we still have some finer points to talk about on the storytelling front: While more companies, universities and nonprofits are embracing the idea of telling good stories about their work, some are still uneasy about letting loose and dropping the insider jargon and down-in-the-weeds references they have used for so long.

In 30 years of writing for a wildly varied assortment of for-profit and non-profit organizations, I’ve seen the same battle over perception playing out over and over again.

Nearly everywhere, I’ve encountered people who were convinced that if their story was told as a story, with anecdotes or examples and in a conversational style, it would instantly lose credibility.

Years apart, colleagues in two very different nonprofits expressed their deep-seated fear that an overhaul of their publication to a more magazine-like format would turn it into People. One mention of the word “magazine,” and all they could conjure up was a celebrity glossy. They were genuinely alarmed and not easily convinced.

Credibility by way of jargon

These and other intelligent, highly educated colleagues over the years would hold tight to their academic or scientific or industry jargon, their way-down-in-the-weeds, eye-glazing detail and their “just-the-facts, ma’am” approach as credentials of a sort.

One academic protested that his work didn’t need examples or more approachable language and explanations because there were only a few people in the world who followed his area of specialty, and they didn’t care about that sort of thing.

If there has been a common thread in my career, it has been this uphill battle to convince people that taking something complex and making it colorful and engaging is a good thing … that everyone, no matter how brilliant or credentialed, likes to be entertained when they read.

I’ve seen stellar short- and long-form writing (from ad campaigns to magazine articles) numbed-down after too many people in too many meetings gave in to this kind of insecurity – to the notion that it is more important to impress than it is to engage.

It’s always heartening to see businesses and nonprofits where the truly creative stuff makes it out into the world, unfiltered by “the committee” – places where the creatives are allowed to live up to their job description. (After all, it does seem like a colossal waste of money to hire people with skills you have no intention of using.)

Postscript:

I watched a TED talk by Brene Brown a few weeks after writing this post, and I was struck by the story she told at the beginning. An event planner was struggling with how to describe Brown in promoting an upcoming speaking engagement. 

She thought calling Brown a researcher would lead people to assume that her presentation would be boring, so she suggested calling her a “storyteller.” Brown recoiled at the description. “The academic, insecure part of me was like, ‘What?’” 

But she came around to the idea. “Maybe,” she thought, “stories are just data with a soul.” She told the woman to bill her as a researcher-storyteller – at which point the event planner laughed and told Brown there was no such thing. 

“… Stories are just data with a soul” is now one of my favorite quotations.

‘At its worst, it feels like alligator wrestling…’

The sensation of writing a book is the sensation of spinning, blinded by love and daring. It is the sensation of a stunt pilot’s turning barrel rolls, or an inchworm’s blind rearing from a stem in search of a route. At its worst, it feels like alligator wrestling, at the level of the sentence.

~ writer Annie Dillard

Photo credit: The Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs: Photography Collection, The New York Public Library. "Studio photograph of an alligator on table." The New York Public Library Digital Collections. http://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/510d47e0-580c-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99