Communications Blog • Kristin Magette

Not as different as we look

August 29, 2014 by kristinmagette Filed Under: Social Media, Thoughtful work Leave a Comment

Although I work in K-12 education, many of the very best social media practices I use came from colleagues in the varied worlds of small business, non-profit and corporate. Virtually everything I do – the way I build our school district’s online community, the way I craft our messages, the way I handle an angry parent or patron – all of these are heavily influenced by the smart people I know (IRL and on Twitter) who manage social media in all kinds of sectors.

And the greatest thing I’ve learned from this collaboration of learning and sharing is that we communicators – from corporate to government, and everywhere in between – are much more similar than we may appear on the surface…

We all have stakeholders, clients and customers. And these groups of people are vital to our success, whether we are selling, creating, helping, serving or educating. The best practices for building and engaging a social media community are consistent, regardless of the business, agency or organization. In addition, the online communities we manage also sometimes have angry people – occasionally even crazy angry people – and the strategies for handling these interactions are effective across all fields.
We all have employees who use social media personally and, sometimes, as part of their job. We know that boundaries and guidelines help ensure that our employees are the best reflection of our mission and brand. We also know that it takes a focused, strategic effort to empower, trust and monitor multiple “official” contributors to social media. Empowering multiple content creators leads to greater community engagement – but it also demands greater planning and management from the top.
We all have a reputation to protect, including our brand and the leaders associated with the brand. It may be a product or service. It may be a CEO, a manager, an elected official or a superintendent. It could be logos, intellectual property or simply the organization’s public image. We know that social media cannot be ignored in the work of brand and reputation management. Whether people are talking to us in our communities or talking about us in other communities, we must monitor, understand and, often, proactively engage, to ensure the integrity of our organization’s reputation.
We all – with rare and lucky exception – have people in leadership positions who get nervous about the role that social media plays in all of the areas above. How do we bring along governing boards and reluctant leaders? How do we demonstrate the value – quantitative and qualitative – that a strategically managed social media community offers to our organizations? And how do we help leaders to face fears, mitigate risk, and embrace opportunity?

It’s true: Not everyone gets to work in a place with school buses, recess, plays, spelling bees, concerts, science fairs and football games. But the strategies, perspectives, challenges and opportunities that come with social media and the organizations we represent – those are what we all share.

I originally wrote this as a guest post for the Social Media Club of Kansas City, where I will be participating in a panel discussion next week about social media in schools.

Riding the roller coaster

June 17, 2014 by kristinmagette Filed Under: Growth & change, Thoughtful work Leave a Comment

Transitions are natural. Systems evolve to meet changing needs and fill new purposes. Coworkers embrace new opportunities. Leaders move on to new career challenges and life chapters.

But transitions are hard. Even when they are handled best, changes come with uncertainties, lack of clarity and anxiety about the unknown.

The leadership change in the district where I work is not unexpected — we have known about it for more than a year, and we have actively worked toward the transition since a new superintendent was hired in January. But even this preparation doesn’t change the fact that the transition itself is just, well, awkward.

Several years ago, I told a former superintendent, in the final week or so before he headed out of state for his next gig, how odd it felt for those of us staying behind. He was excited about his new district, his new staff, his new community. In the meantime, we were left with the work that, at least to some extent, he had chosen to leave behind. His giddy excitement and urgency to share this and that detail? I told him I just couldn’t feign any more excitement. I compared it to having to pretend you enjoyed hanging out with your ex.

“It’s kind of like you’ve broken up,” he said, “and you’re still living together in the apartment because there’s a month left on the lease. But there’s no more romance.”

Yes, in so many ways, it’s almost exactly that.

It’s a roller coaster, packing up one leader and helping the next unpack. Ups and downs. Curves and loop-d-loops. Dread and exhilaration. Time and again, I’ve found that only way to get through it is to hold on tight, close your eyes and scream if you have to, and know that this emotionally volatile ride won’t last forever.

This week, our administrative team took a three-day retreat with the incoming superintendent, while the retiring superintendent hung back to pack up his office. We drove three hours away, staked out cabins and bunk beds, braved a high ropes course, roasted s’mores. We also had meeting after meeting, orienting ourselves to our work, to our new leader, and to a bright future ahead. We have connected (and reconnected) with each other, welcomed a couple of new faces, and firmed up the foundation of a team with much work to do.

As guests of an education service center, we also were treated to an hour in the science center building simple roller coasters — and it was only fitting, given the transitions we’re navigating right now. Broken into teams of three or four, we were given a long rubber track, three different balls, and a couple rolls of tape. From there, we imagined, built, tested and rebuilt our roller coaster tracks. Each had at least one hill, loop and curve. And each signified the teamwork, communication, creativity, resilience and collaboration needed to be successful.

Our roller coaster wasn’t fancy. But riding the roller coaster of change isn’t about looking good, any more than riding a real roller coaster is. It’s about soaking in the experience and the satisfaction of seeing it through.

Jump in, the water’s great!

May 8, 2014 by kristinmagette Filed Under: Embracing Social Media: A Practical Guide to Manage Risk and Leverage Opportunity, Social Media, Thoughtful work Leave a Comment

We’ve just celebrated a cool anniversary in my school district. A couple of years ago, the leaders here decided that it was time to embrace social media as a broad tool in education. A communications tool. A teaching tool. A learning tool. We had an established Facebook page, and a few teachers dabbling on their own time. (Because, of course our school district filters didn’t allow them on Facebook or Twitter. I had double-secret-probation-extra-special filter settings to manage our district page at work.)

But two years ago, my superintendent decided that locking down social media was no longer the best option. No, the ostrich pose wasn’t going to serve our students well (at all). With the help of a nearby consultant with a hefty corporate social media pedigree and personal passion for local schools, we wrote policy and guidelines, we set up a few procedures to keep the internal lines of communication open, we provided training to our employees. And we reconfigured our network filters to allow adult users the privileges to access social media at work. Crazy, I know.

In the time since, I’ve been asked to share our story with different groups and in a few trade magazines. (I’m also writing a book on this subject, which is why my blog has been so sad over the past few months. But this whole book nonsense is another post for another day.) When I’m asked to share our social media story what always surprises me is, really, how simple our work has been.

Without a doubt, social media can inspire enormous fear and loathing in the hearts and minds of school districts, non-profits, public agencies and — especially — the boards that govern these groups.

We read the stories and see the reports on television about people making really bad decisions on the social media stage. In education, we see teachers and administrators who lose their jobs, kids who jeopardize their future goals, and parents who go a little (and sometimes a lot) crazy.

But the simple lesson that we’ve learned — over and again — in the past two years is that social media is no different than the other issues that we manage every day. We serve kids lunch every day because our food and nutrition services workers have been trained in safe kitchen skills and food safety. We transport kids on buses every day because our drivers follow specific vehicle, traffic and safety procedures. At the end of the day, our work is embedded with basic risk management. Social media programs included.

We believe that social media offers a huge reward. We can engage with parents in a content-rich, real-time exchange. We can create legitimate relevance and rigor for our students as they learn. (Show me the student who won’t bring their A game if told his or her work will be on a public stage.) We can encourage our staff to seek professional development through the enormous opportunities on Twitter. And now, we can serve as encouragers and guides to other districts and organizations, still wrestling with fear of the unknown, or unsure about the process of embracing social media.

Our story here means a lot of things to me. But I hope the most important take-away to you is this: Jump in (or wade in, or dip your toe in) and see for yourself — the water’s great!

Tune in to WII-FM

February 26, 2014 by kristinmagette Filed Under: Embracing Social Media: A Practical Guide to Manage Risk and Leverage Opportunity, Strategic Communications 1 Comment

As a communications director, I’m often approached by a frustrated colleague or friend:

“Nobody is clicking our post / reading our newsletter / opening our e-mails / responding to our survey / (and the list goes on). I’ve tried everything! What am I missing?”

I’ll ask a few questions, we’ll talk a little bit, and virtually every time, it comes back to this: It’s time to tune into station WII-FM … What’s In It For Me?

The fact is, it doesn’t matter what we want to say, or what we want people to know. It doesn’t even matter what we NEED them to know. Our message won’t bypass the average person’s drinking-from-the-information-fire-hydrant filter if it doesn’t resonate in a way that fills a personal need. Because let’s face it: When it comes to our audience’s long list of priorities, the messages we typically want or need to push out aren’t at the top. (Or most times, even in the bottom middle.)

Think of WII-FM as that station that comes in the strongest and clearest in the car and, consequently, the one you are the most likely to have on. It’s the place where a person hears what she needs for her day, for her job, for her family. The need-to-know information that makes a person’s day run. As communicators, only the messages that hit that same frequency stand a real chance of engaging our audience’s attention or prompting action.

The good news? Most messages can be reframed (a little or a lot) to resonate on the “what’s in it for me” channel. Yes, it’s sometimes a little sad to know that my information won’t be valued solely on its merits (because dang, I write some righteous messages!), but my own pride is worthless if my message falls flat.

If a message goes out and nobody hears it, it doesn’t make a sound. And more importantly, it doesn’t make a difference. To anyone.

We can do better! Open up your toolbox and pull out your empathetic skills, your devil’s advocate skills, and your mind-bending-creative-thinking skills. Each is essential to tuning into WII-FM. And consider these two questions as you frame your message to hit the right frequency for your audience:

Is this message naturally important to the audience? In the case of parents in our school district, naturally important messages include snow days, crisis updates and specific health information that has an immediate effect on their student (head lice, anyone?). Just because you have truly important information, don’t assume that it’s important to the audience. Our school district office moved to a new location last summer — something several audiences genuinely needed to know — but we made sure to frame our communications around messages, timelines and channels that were finely tuned to the needs and motivations of our employees and stakeholder groups. For employees, few things are more motivating than knowing you need to go somewhere new to pick up your paycheck.
If the message doesn’t qualify as naturally important, what priorities or values do you share? You and your audience both may place a strong value on the message, but you likely are motivated by different forces. For example, school districts need students in our schools, so we work hard on tardiness and absenteeism. But it’s unlikely that a school’s administrative need to have kids at school will motivate a parent. Instead, we must frame our communications around these types of questions: What is the advantage for a mom to have her child in school? How does this genuinely help make a dad’s life easier? (N.B., This must be something that the audience member would agree makes his or her life better or easier. If you aren’t certain, spend some time talking to a few sample audience members about the issue. Because if you’re wrong, you simply won’t hit the frequency.)

While my examples all reflect my work in a school district, WII-FM is just as important with any non-profit, small business, corporation or government agency. In all cases, the messages and information we’re pushing out must resonate with our audience on a self-interest level, in order to cut through the noise and catch the audience’s attention.

The best part? The more we’re able to frame messages around the “what’s in it for me” model, the more capital we’ll have to spend at times when the messages aren’t directly tied to our audience’s immediate needs. Whether a call to action for advocacy on your behalf, a request for financial support or an invitation to attend a focus group or event — these things typically don’t fall at the top of most people’s lists. But your audience members will much more likely tune into your station, if you’ve shown them over time that you’re clearly tuned into theirs.

Running on empty

February 17, 2014 by kristinmagette Filed Under: Growth & change Leave a Comment

No matter how well I plan — and how well executed my plan is — there are just times when I bottom out.

Sometimes it follows extended period of high demand, either professionally or personally. It may be in the lead up to a daunting project, with a giant mountain to climb on the horizon. It may be when either my personal or professional life swells up and steals more energy and thought than usual. Or it may be a time like right now now, where all of those things kind of converge.

In this moment, I am coming off an incredibly engaging (but demanding) few weeks at work that involved the interviewing and hiring of a new leader and boss. I’m knee deep in a few projects that are still murky and have a distance yet to go before I reach the other side. I’m grieving the slow but determined progression of advanced cancer on a loved one who is much too young. And I’m finally beginning to heal from a ridiculously prolonged cold and cough.

Oh, and it’s February. Cold, snowy, ugh February.

On any given day, I’m the glass-half-full optimist, the idealist. So when life and work are just harder than usual — when things just feel belabored but I don’t feel physically, mentally, or emotionally up to the challenge — I lose myself a little. I fall out of touch with the one who relishes a challenge, knocks out a to-do list, gets fired up about opportunities and the future. After wandering in this sense of bewilderment for a few days now, I’m ready to shift gears. I’m ready to get back in the ring, to trade this fog for focus. (Evidently I’m also ready for generous use of metaphor.)

And it’s starting. Today at lunch, I sat and laughed with my eight year old. We watched part of a Myth Busters episode. He told inappropriate jokes, and rather than assume my maternal posture, I just laughed. He laughed even more.

I will try to go for a run today. My runs (and physical activity of nearly any kind) have been all but absent over the past several weeks, no thanks to the viruses in my body, a demanding work schedule, a legitimate need for more sleep than I was getting, and the 12″ of snow and ice on the ground. But today the sun shines, the temperature rises, and my body needs to move again.

When I treat myself well, I’ve found that the universe responds. I will assemble dinner for my family, laugh with my kids, ask my husband about his day, put away my basket of clean laundry and (probably) sleep better tonight than I have in too long.

But first, I will run.

I’m sure it will be slow, as it will take time to regain my previous level of fitness. And it will probably be short because I’ll be tucking it into a spot of time between leaving the office and picking up my daughter from day care. But it will be fresh air. It will be sunshine and vitality.

The sun may be in my eyes, and I may be behind. But even running on empty is still running. It’s time.

100% organic leadership

January 28, 2014 by kristinmagette Filed Under: Growth & change Leave a Comment

Truth: It feels bad when you have something important to say, but nobody stops to listen. Or when you have an idea, but nobody asks you to contribute. It feels especially bad when you see yourself as a leader, but others aren’t treating you like one. I’ve been there.

Organic leadership in an organization, or within a team structure of any kind, isn’t about job titles. A title does make someone a boss and de facto leader, but organic leadership is available to virtually any team member. These leaders are not bound by — or anointed by — titles.

The people the boss listens to — and the people that other leaders seek out for collaboration — have those opportunities because they are perceived as valuable. Value comes in a lot of forms, but at the leadership table, it comes at the idea level. Value means innovation and experimentation. With seeking new concepts, new angles, new solutions. And it most certainly comes with initiative — with not waiting to be asked, assigned, or (especially) told.

You don’t need a specific title to be an organic leader, but you must show that you bring something new to the equation. There are a lot of people who follow through, work hard and dedicate themselves to getting the job done. Those people are utterly fundamental to every single organization and team. Leadership is about asking questions, looking for things that could be better, and then proposing solutions and ideas. And for organic leaders, this process begins without prompt. Their value comes from finding ways to do things better, even (and especially) in places where problems may not be readily apparent.

Turning on a light in a dark room is solving a problem. Looking for ways to better illuminate shadowed areas of a room is leadership.

Earning a seat at the leadership table takes effort and patience. Here are a few things that can help open doors:

Do the good work. Leaders must be dependable and dedicated first. Be trustworthy. If it’s confidential, protect it. Pitch in to make your boss and coworkers look good whenever you can.
Treat other leaders with respect. Resenting existing leaders (however great they may or may not be) because they have what you want will only sabotage your goal. Convert resentment into curiosity. Spend time with a leader you know, and listen to learn more about how he or she thinks. Something as simple as carpooling to and from a meeting can be valuable time to listen and gain insights about the processes and future of the team around you. Ask a leader what your greatest strength is, and how they see that strength being valuable to the entire team. That gives you a specific area to think about how you can share your value effectively.
Own your authority. This isn’t about entitlement. (“I deserve to be treated as a leader because _______________.”) Owning your authority is understanding what you can bring to the table, and then doing it best. It’s also about knowing the role you play on the team and identifying ways it can create broader growth. If you work in accounting, how can your knowledge contribute to other areas of the organization’s success?
Work to make the future better. Put aside the to-do list for a moment. Look for something simple that could be improved, and think about realistic paths to improvement. Imagine sharing your ideas with your boss or others, and brainstorm all the questions or concerns that could come up. Think about your answers, let the ideas settle in your brain for a little longer, and then take the initiative to begin the conversation with your boss.
Know when a change is best. There are times when organic leadership simply isn’t going to happen. Perhaps your boss lacks true vision or trust. Maybe your experience or education are not valued in your work setting. Consider that your personality may not be the right fit for the team. If you believe that you are ready to be at the leadership table and that opportunity doesn’t exist where you are, it’s time to move on.

Serving as an organic leader within an organization is empowering, challenging and deeply rewarding. What pitfalls have you seen on the road to organic leadership?

On becoming a student of change

January 14, 2014 by kristinmagette Filed Under: Growth & change, Thoughtful work Leave a Comment

Several years ago, my beloved boss abruptly took another job out of state. This departure, which transpired over the course of just a few weeks, meant saying goodbye to a man who allowed me to find my voice as a communications professional — and empowered me to make my voice heard.

It was a time of change that turned me inside out. I was angry, lonely, sometimes even a little bit desperate. But more than anything, I was afraid.

I work in school public relations, and if there’s one thing that my school PR family understands, it’s the nuance of the relationship between a communications director and a superintendent. And just how much (of everything else) depends on it.

Although I already had a solid working relationship with the man assigned to take over the position — and have thoroughly adored working for him in the six years since — the fear of the unknown paralyzed me. I was afraid of whether my newly discovered and increasingly confident professional voice would matter to my next boss. I was afraid of how the working dynamic would undoubtedly change. I feared I wouldn’t find the same level of chemistry and friendship with someone new.

I was afraid of the unknown.

But in my months-long process of fretting, I stumbled on this quote:

Become a student of change. It is the only thing that will remain constant.
-Anthony J. D’Angelo

We all know that change is constant, and hard. But this idea of becoming a student of change made me pause. To be a student of something means to sit with it and get to know it. To understand the ins and outs. And to embrace that fear cannot exist in a place of understanding. Becoming a student of change would allow me to take charge — to learn and grow, instead of being hostage to a force outside my control. Time (mercifully) passed, and things got easier as I took inventory and worked harder.

Fast forward to today, and I’m preparing for a yet-to-be-hired new superintendent. I won’t say I’m always comfortable with the unknown. But I can say that approaching this change as a change student opens up a space where I can operate without fear. (I should note that the fact we have every reason to believe the next superintendent here will be a great leader makes it far easier to do this.) With applications rolling in and my current superintendent on contract until the end of June, this road isn’t especially short. But here are five questions I am working on right now, as student of change:

What specific skills or knowledge can I learn from this transitional process that will be valuable to me in the future?
What activities or skills can I personally call on to steady my fretting?
What specific skills or knowledge will I provide to make my new boss successful?
What steps can I take to help my new boss learn about me, even before he or she takes the reins in July?
What ideas will I take to my new boss — innovations or projects that I’ve been thinking about but haven’t moved on yet — at this time next year?

These questions have already begun to provide great insight and calm as I size up the next six months. If nothing else, they are specific, constructive thinking things that I can choose to use when those fretting-about-the-unknown moments come to visit.

How do you stay focused, intentional and constructive during times of transition and change?

There’s good in the grey

January 7, 2014 by kristinmagette Filed Under: Growth & change 2 Comments

The creative person is willing to live with ambiguity. He doesn’t need problems solved immediately and can afford to wait for the right ideas.
Abe Tannenbaum

Let’s face it: The world is easier to master in black and white. Right or wrong. Up or down. Good or bad. Ideas and processes that mingle in ambiguity are left for someone else to figure out, a puzzle for someone else to solve. Sometimes they’re discarded all together.

What a waste.

Things don’t get better without work. (Nor do they, with all due respect to Mr. Tannenbaum, just by waiting.) It takes time and effort and sweat and maybe even a few tears to truly design a solution to a problem, or to introduce innovation to a process.

Because I’m passionate about making things better through strategic communications and collaboration, this grey area — this ambiguity — is where it’s at. I thrive here. Yes, I thrash a little too. And I doubt. I put it away and pull it back out. (Sometimes seventeen thousand or so times.) I give up and start again. But the grey is where I’m at my best. And it’s the source of the most exciting and rewarding work I’ve ever had the opportunity to know.

Making things better is an awesome proposition. It’s about solving problems. Building trust. Increasing transparency. Empowering leaders and stakeholders. No matter your work, it’s hard for me to imagine a more invigorating and rewarding thing than discovering ways to do things better, to make things better.

But making things better is also about asking the right questions (and maybe a few of the wrong questions) and never settling for the easy answers. Yes, it can become a rabbit hole, as the deeper you get in the questions and search for answers, the murkier it gets. I have waded through this process countless times, and many of those I nearly lost all connection with my original purpose. What was I trying to do, again?

But that’s okay.

Once I learned that this time wandering in the desert is necessary to the work of making things better, I stopped being afraid of ambiguity. Sure, it frustrates me sometimes — who doesn’t get impatient and willing to settle for a quick solution to a nagging problem? And by no means do I spend every day, all day, thrashing around in making-things-better mode. (Hello, nervous breakdown!) No, this is the sort of process that may include a few work sessions, but it develops in the way that the problem or question seeps into the cracks of the mind. That’s when I know I’m in the grey again. (Hello, old friend!)

Clarity can be slow in coming. Rarely do I have light bulb moments in the shower, on a run, or during breakfast. I don’t usually wake up in the middle of the night with a solution. (I do, however, wake up plenty of nights with more questions and processing.) But the longer I convince myself to linger in the grey, the better the end result.

I love the Great Idea as much as anyone. I live for it, in fact. Even the idea that can’t quite be articulated just yet, the thing that makes sense in your mind, until you try to put it into words. The idea is what wakes me up in the morning and nags me at night. It’s what fires me up to sit down and do my work. But more than anything, I love the grey area where those ideas are developed into the real solutions — innovations, approaches, systems — that make things truly better.

It’s in every one of us

December 22, 2013 by kristinmagette Filed Under: Growth & change Leave a Comment

I love Christmas. It’s not my favorite holiday — that belongs to Thanksgiving, with its comforting customs and expectations only for food, togetherness and gratitude.

But Christmas holds a special rank, especially in the time since I became an adult, and a mom. I was beyond fortunate to grow up in a family that connected around the holiday season each year and enjoyed cherished traditions. Not all of our traditions were (or are) deep with meaning. The most memorable or enduring are just the things — often ridiculously simple — that connect us to other generations, other decades, other stages of life. Whatever they are, these traditions connect us to the past and instill a powerful sense of source, the what you come from.

Music has always had a place in my family, and I credit my dad with that. He never played an instrument — though he is pretty sure he was a blues musician in a former life — but he always has music playing in the house and in the car. What used to be on record albums and reel-to-reel now is on CD and even his iPod. (I only wish that had been the case when I was a little girl, as my sister and I were not allowed to dance in the living room where the record player was. Our energetic and certainly artistic moves would have tragically scratched the vinyl. Eventually he wired speakers to the family room, with its carpeted floors and safe distance from the record player, giving us a space to dance and leap to our hearts’ content.)

Music was in our lives every day, all year. But if absence makes the heart grow fonder, perhaps that’s part of why Christmas music — and our annual rediscovery — was so special. Some was instrumental, but our favorites were the ones we could sing to. And for my sister and me, the favorite of our sing-along albums was John Denver and the Muppets. Hands down. To this day, it is the one I pull out when I beat my kids and husband to the CD player. Yes, it’s pretty silly. But it connects me to my past, to my childhood and culture and memories. And if you haven’t had the good fortune to listen to this particular album before, let me assure you: There is soul there.

There is clever comedy, too, most often courtesy of Miss Piggy. (A mixup in We Wish You A Merry Christmas has Miss Piggy thinking they’ve demanded to bring out the Piggy Pudding. Clarification ensues, courtesy of Gonzo: “No, FIGGY pudding. It’s made with figs. And bacon.”)

But even amid the raucous Little Saint Nick from Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem and chaotic Twelve Days of Christmas, there are some wonderfully thoughtful treasures. And a passage from one continues to resonate with me every time at this year.

It’s in every one of us
To be wise
Find your heart
Open up both your eyes
We can all know everything
Without ever knowing why

It’s in every one of us
By and by

This Christmas, I wish you connection with traditions of the past, openness to the promise of the future and a generous helping of John Denver and the Muppets.

Boiling it down

December 11, 2013 by kristinmagette Filed Under: Growth & change, Personal branding Leave a Comment

As I recently shared, I am on a journey to refine my personal brand — to define myself as a professional and individual.

This journey began about a month ago as I set out to create personal greeting cards to reflect my brand. I have always been a note writer, and I credit my mom with teaching me this value. Growing up, my sister and I had to write thank you notes to relatives for Christmas gifts within a day or two of opening them. A dreaded chore at times, but one that taught us well. I went away to college, studied abroad for a year and later married and moved a few hours from home. And whether my mom was mailing me a couple of photos from a recent holiday, a care package with some cookies, or just the pair of sunglasses I’d forgotten on her kitchen counter, there was always a personal note tucked inside.

Don’t get me wrong. My daily world survives on e-mail, text, direct messages and phone calls. But that’s what makes a personal note so powerful. It stands apart.

The custom greeting card endeavor required me to work on two things:

A quote to feature on the front that reflects the brand I aim to project
A personal boilerplate statement to include on the back with my contact information.

So, first, the quote. I searched for quotes on creativity, on strategy and communications. On working together, having a vision, bringing passion to your day. I lingered on Alice In Wonderland quotes for probably far too long. After bouncing around on Google enough to coat my eyes and mind with a permanent glaze, I finally settled on a popular Steve Jobs quote:

“The people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do.”

Yes, I’d hoped to avoid a possible cliche and find something more Masterpiece Theatre, less Good Morning America. But the more I looked and the more I thought (and thought), the more I found the Jobs quote to articulate the essence of my brand, better than any other. It got to my idealism, my love for the creative process, my hope for the future. (And the chronic crazy.) It just worked.

Next came my boilerplate. An old-school journalism term, a boilerplate is the short, standard paragraph that corporations and organizations include at the end of every news release. Done right, it orients the reader, immediately, to what you’re all about. Think of it as boiling everything down to the very basics. (The term actually derives from the late 1800s when steam boiler manufacturers used metal plates so people could tell who made the boiler, but that’s okay. I’m flexible that way.)

For my own boilerplate, I knew it needed to be short. An elevator speech needs to wrap up before those doors open up. (And goodness knows my chaotic brain does better with fewer words to recall on demand.) But more important than length, I knew it needed to be direct — not a word wasted, not a syllable more than necessary — but also human, showing that I am more than a list of skills. After much deliberation, word play and idea-bouncing with one awesomely brilliant friend, here’s the result:

I’m passionate about making things better through strategic communications and collaboration. And I’m crazy about my family, sharing stories, big laughs and great food.

That’s it. And the best part? I typed it just now without having to look back at my notes. I’ll take that as a sign. A good one.