Fulfilling Life Archives • Page 2 of 4 • Kristin Magette

Kansas Day 2016: Ad Astra Per Aspera

January 29, 2016 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Fulfilling Life 14 Comments

I’m a Kansas girl. Born here. Educated here. Married here. Raising a family here. Even in the year of college that I studied and lived in France, Kansas has been home.

As a kid, this didn’t exactly feel like bragging rights. Rectangle state with a little jagged corner. A teacher once suggested to me and my classmates that we could find Kansas on a U.S. map by looking in the middle of the country for the cracker with a bite out of it. Kansas has largely been function over form, to be sure.

But Kansas is much more than fly-over country. And although I know my regular blog audience hails from mostly other places, today I’m celebrating Kansas Day. Because if you’ve watched the news (or the Daily Show) over the past few years, Kansas is bleeding. Our state is in crisis. The state budget is in ruin. A scary majority of our elected officials are focused on their own careers, their own pride, or their own pocketbooks. The ultra wealthy have bought the highest offices in the land, driving policy with impunity. Our leaders double down on fear, blame and division. Kansas public schools, long among the nation’s very best, have been discredited, are being defunded and are actively targeted to be dismantled. The poor and vulnerable of our state are now shamed and, in too many cases, farmed out to the highest bidder.

But today, Kansas’ 155th birthday, I’m focused on our state motto: Ad Astra Per Aspera. To the stars through difficulties. And I refuse to give up. Today, I’m focused on why I fight for this state.

It’s the state of my dad, his dad, and his dad the generation before. German settlers who homesteaded in the middle of the state and believed in the common good. Strong people who worked hard and helped each other. And smart people who understood that public education is essential to the future of democracy. I’ve heard stories about small, scattered Kansas prairie towns where families scraped together what little they had to hire a teacher. This is Kansas.

My grandfather grew up on the family farm, and my grandmother lived there with her new in-laws when Grandad was stationed in Japan for World War II. After the war there was college, hard work on the farm and enterprising business decisions. Grandad, who built two of his family’s homes, opened a variety store in one small Kansas town and later operated a Ben Franklin and department store in another. And Grandma, born and raised in Oklahoma, worked right alongside, his equal. She raised three boys and Eagle Scouts, helped run the stores and single-handedly chased down custom cutting crews when crops were ready to be harvested. They were a team of two intelligent, hard-working, enterprising people. They are Kansas.

Fast-forward to my life, with all the advantages offered by an extraordinary public education. My school district was admired nationally for excellence, and I had every opportunity to create whatever future I wanted. Classmates went off to Harvard, Yale, Stanford, NYU and elsewhere. I decided to stay in Kansas and squeeze every ounce of goodness out of my five years at Kansas State University, the nation’s first land-grant university. I played in the symphony, recorded a CD with a string quartet, wrote for the award-winning daily newspaper, studied abroad and enjoyed access to world-class performers and lecturers. (I also enjoyed the benefits of a university that has a dairy science program. Hello, ice cream!) This is Kansas.

After graduating, I had professional and personal opportunities to be part of two Guinness record-setting flights piloted by Steve Fossett in the Virgin Atlantic GlobalFlyer, play backup for Collin Raye and write a book. All while living and working — in Kansas.

When I was a teenager, Grandma would tell me about leaving her family when she was my age and enrolling in business college in Wichita. She wanted to make sure I knew, she chose Kansas. “All people are respected here, even women.” “Kansas wasn’t a slave state — it was a Free State.” And the one I can still hear her saying, “Kansans aren’t rednecks, hicks or bandits.” I wish I could say I appreciated her perspective at 16, but I certainly do today. And the more I know about Kansas, the deeper my appreciation and love.

Kansas was built by populists. It was the first in America to ban the Ku Klux Klan and the first to elect women to public office, one as mayor and another as sheriff. Our state capital — now the center of so much scandal and destruction — is home to the pioneering civil rights decision integrating public schools, Brown v. Topeka Board of Education, the first of its kind in the nation. The first state to elect a woman to the U.S. Senate on her own merits, without following a term that her husband had served. The native home of Dwight Eisenhower, Erin Brockovich, Langston Hughes, Amelia Earhart, William Allen White and Charlie Parker. This is Kansas.

The Hutchinson News editorial board wrote an obituary of our state nearly three years ago, documenting the painful highlights of losses we’ve suffered, ground we’ve lost. But Kansans are fighters. And we don’t give up. Not before, and not now. The sky may be very dark, but the Kansas stars are still out there — and they’re worth fighting for.

Ad Astra Per Aspera. And happy birthday, Kansas.

Fancy New Letters: APR

January 24, 2016 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Growth & change, Thoughtful work 2 Comments

Letters are a big deal, right? Whether school letters, Greek letters, professional letters, they become symbols that deliver a sense of pride, a sense of belonging. I have kept a well-worn sweatshirt from high school, boldly proclaiming my letters at the time: SME. In a large school district with five high schools, wearing your letters was laying claim to your friends, your teachers, often your teenage world. The same was true in college, where letters bearing the names of sororities and fraternities created another level of self-identification. (Although I did not join a sorority in college, the letters were meaningful symbols to me and most others on campus.)

Professional letters came later — CPA, MD, MBA, Ph.D. Like the letters before them, these tell another person a great deal of information. If I see these letters with someone’s name, I can likely quickly discern the type of work they do and their level of education. As a journalism student studying public relations in college, professional letters weren’t on my radar. It wasn’t until several years later — almost 10 years ago now — that I haphazardly joined the world of school public relations. And shortly after that, I learned about the APR credential — accredited in public relations.

And now — as of last week — I’ve officially earned the right to add APR to my name. I have my own special letters.

So, for my friends and colleagues who don’t work in public relations, here’s the skinny…

I passed a review panel of my peers (peers who already had received their APR) last March.
I passed a three-hour computerized exam with 163 questions in early January.
I can now tell you a thing or two about Grunig’s situational theory of publics, the difference between line and staff functions and why P.T. Barnum was way more than just a circus guy.

It’s a credential that is widely recognized across all disciplines of public relations. Someone once told me that, in certain circles, the APR is more highly regarded in the public relations profession than a master’s degree. (In fairness, it’s entirely possible that these particular circles may consist of APRs who do not have master’s degrees…but I’m fine not knowing that for now.)

Most importantly, my APR means I’ll continue fine tuning my work to be strategic and based in best practices of social science and professional ethics. It’s a commitment to continued learning, throughout my career, to ensure that I deliver ever greater value to my employer — with focus and confidence as I do.

Now, for my PR friends and colleagues, the APR also might mean, “those letters I really should start working on.” At least, that’s what APR meant to me for much of the last 9+ years. Because I quickly noticed that many of the people who were helping me adjust, learn and grow in this new-found school PR world of bond issues, teacher negotiations, angry parents and Kindergarten Roundup — also had APR behind their name. I admired the quality of their work, the value of their perspective — and I wanted to join their ranks. I wanted the letters.

Getting the APR was a long and winding road, mostly because the past 10 years have included having a baby, raising kids, buying groceries, doing laundry and working in a busy full-time job. (This is where I give a HUGE shout-out to all the single moms, working college students and others who find a way to fit these things together. You are amazing.) I also was crazy enough to write a book two years ago, which put me back a good year when I was really starting to prepare in earnest.

But in spite of all the unexpected and absorbing things life brings, I got there. And along the way, I was reminded, over and over, that I’m surrounded by incredibly generous colleagues — some friends, some strangers — who went out of their way to encourage and help me succeed. And now I’ll pay forward some of their kindness. If you’re thinking you might want the APR letters behind your name, here are my top five things to consider now…

Start when the time is right. I leveraged a bit of a mom window, nestling the bulk of my work in a sweet spot between when my kids were old enough to be in school, but (mostly) young enough to avoid a family schedule packed with evening and weekend activities. The accreditation board requires that candidates have at least five years of experience; looking back I’m certain that I was a better APR candidate at this stage of my career than I would have been a few years out of college.
Enlist your boss’ support. Key to my shift from That’s a goal of mine to I’m working on my APR was having it written into my evaluation a few years back. It kept me on track, held me accountable and allowed me to spend some of my regular office hours on my panel and exam preparation. Having it formally documented in my evaluation also paid dividends when I transitioned to a new superintendent partway through my preparation.
Don’t let the time frame fool you. Candidates are given one calendar year to pass the Readiness Review Panel and complete the exam, and this is more than enough time if you complete the panel shortly after you apply to be a candidate. Leaving yourself 9-12 months to pass the exam, you have all the time you need — likely more than you need. Map out a study plan, schedule an exam date and keep pushing forward. (The 12-month timeline does allow flexibility, however, if life throws you a curve ball or two — and it definitely did for me with the death of a family member, my sister-in-law moving to Hospice care AND being notified by the accreditation board that the exam I’d all but finished preparing for was going to be retired and replaced with a new exam the following month! If planned correctly, the year-long window also allows you time take the exam more than once.)
Expect a shock to your system when you begin studying for a major exam, especially if you’ve been away from college for 10 or 15 years. I found myself longing for the discipline I once had as a successful high school and college student. Flash cards, study guides and textbooks — exam preparation takes dedication, persistence and old fashioned hard work. More than one APR has told me that a second try at the exam is what they needed, after coming up short the first time. The goal is not to be perfect — the goal is to finish.
And most importantly, enlist the help, encouragement and support of the APRs around you. Find them through NSPRA or PRSA. Find them on Twitter. Ask your friends. And ask for help. Without exception, current APRs were happy to provide whatever I needed to make the journey a little easier.

If you’re a communications professional, I would love to connect and encourage you to go for your APR when the time is right. And as much pride as I feel having these letters on a letter addressed to me, it truly pales in comparison to the perspective, knowledge and clarity I gained along the way.

Giving Thanks, Giving Hope

November 26, 2015 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Growth & change 5 Comments

Today’s the day: Thanksgiving. 40th birthday. And the end of my Feed 40×40 appeal to friends and family.

We’ll eat turkey and pie. And I’m anticipating that someone, at some point in the day, will sing Happy Birthday. But that third thing — the crazy Feed 40×40 thing — well, that’s not as straightforward. It’s going to take that one awhile to sink in.

Fortunately for today, the numbers are pretty straightforward. You’ll remember, I asked my friends, family and followers to pitch in and collectively donate a total of 1,600 items+dollars to local food pantries before my birthday on Nov. 26. I had my doubts about reaching the goal just 10 days ago. But we did it. And then we did it three more times. That’s right, the total (which is still creeping up as I write) is more than 6,400. That’s 40×40, times 4.

And based on the forms that were completed, by more than 80 (!) individuals, this generosity helped feed hungry families in 12 (!) states. Kansas. Missouri. Ohio. Texas. New York. North Carolina. South Carolina. Arizona. Colorado. Wisconsin. Utah. And Minnesota. Wow.

Donations have come in all sizes and shapes. (And they’re still trickling in, so if you want to include yours in the final count, please fill out my form right now!) From small cash gifts to large, orchestrated food drives in schools and offices, every single person who said I’m in! helped make an enormous difference.

I could go on and on about what this has meant to me — having my birthday wish come true and hearing from friends and strangers alike, telling me about the kind and generous gifts they gave others for my birthday. (My social media notifications with photos of food donations left me speechless, day after day, after day.)

But rather than chatter on about how genuinely humbling and inspirational this campaign has been to me, I want to point out what it’s done for people in need. Here’s what a friend of mine shared on her Facebook post, when she made her donation:

Growing up, I distinctly remember coming home with my mom and siblings one night to a paper bag of groceries left on the front porch by someone who knew we needed them.

That one gesture of kindness has reminded me time and time again to be grateful for everything. Each time I donate, I have the honor of being that paper sack for someone else. The needs are so great that I sometimes feel that I can never give enough to change anything. But then I remember that even in one bag of food there is something else. Hope.

So, to all of you who said yes to Feed 40×40: This is what we did. Yes, we reached a goal and made my 40th birthday wish come true. But what really mattered? We delivered hope. And that, my friends, is what makes me most thankful.

We’re doing it.

November 19, 2015 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Growth & change Leave a Comment

On Monday, I realized it was November 16 — 10 days to go before my birthday, Thanksgiving, and the end of my Feed 40×40 birthday wish.

With just 10 days to go, I peeked at my ticker at the bottom of my blog post before I got in the shower. Adding up the two totals — dollars and items — in my head, I determined that we’d passed 800. “Halfway there,” I told myself. But moments later I confessed to my husband that I just wasn’t sure we’d make it to 1,600. “What if we don’t make it?” I asked him. He seemed less concerned. “It’s just a number,” he said. “Any number is good because it’s helping people who need it.”

And as much as I knew he was right, my PR self took over and started imagining the post I’d write if we didn’t reach the goal of 1,600. I’d share the amazing things I’d heard and seen, thanks to my generous friends and family. The people I’ve never met who pitched in because they heard that some lady was trying to do a food drive to celebrate her 40th birthday. My office coworkers who organized a food drive on their own. My son’s fourth grade class, deciding on a food drive for their November service project. And my husband, who had the idea to smoke an extra turkey to give to a family — strangers, quite likely — that could use help putting a nice dinner on the table.

I’m a PR person, and the messaging was coming together in my mind. I thought, “I can share these stories and tell people — or, at least tell myself — that 1,600 was just a number, that our effort made a difference.” There would be no shame in falling short of a lofty goal.

But then Monday happened. And Tuesday, and Wednesday. And with every ding that rang out from my social media notifications, I was joyfully reminded of the generosity and kindness of friends and strangers. By Monday night, we had passed 1,100. By Tuesday night, 1,200. And this morning? Nearly 1,400.

Thanksgiving is a week from today. Knowing that there are people still collecting and counting, I’m beginning to think we might just hit 1,600 after all. (But don’t let that stop you from helping! More than 1,600 would be an incredible thing and help so many more people!)

I’ll post again before this is all done. But I wanted to check in now and let you know: What’s happening is really special.

Help me Feed 40×40

November 1, 2015 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Growth & change 4 Comments

For as long as I can remember, Thanksgiving has been one of my favorite holidays. A day that celebrates food, family and blessings is a gift in and of itself.

And as long as I can remember, I have had the occasional Thanksgiving birthday. Good or bad, it comes with the territory of being born on November 26. I was born on a Wednesday in 1975, and as my mom still tells it, that was the only year she missed Thanksgiving dinner because she had to eat the meal someone else at Manhattan Memorial Hospital had ordered: Ham. (Sorry, mom.)

Fast forward four decades, and I will be celebrating my 40th this year on Thanksgiving Day. When I discovered this, I had mixed feelings. Thanksgiving birthdays — my husband has been known to call them Birthgiving Days — are usually pretty forgettable. Thanksgiving, in all its glory, takes over. But turning 40, especially on Thanksgiving, makes me pause.

40. Thankful. Wow.

Because proper celebration will be sparse on my actual birthday, I hatched a new plan. A birthday campaign, you might say. (I’ve spent my last 15 years working in public relations. I can’t help it.)

During the month of November, I’m challenging my friends, my family and my followers — YOU — to give to your local food bank. I’m calling it Feed 40×40, and my goal is to generate a collective donation of 1,600 food items and/or dollars to local food banks across Kansas and across the country.

Whether it’s one box of powdered milk, 10 cans of sliced peaches or 100 jars of peanut butter — or a cash donation in any amount — you can make a difference. My husband and I are donating to the Eudora Food Pantry and Just Food in Lawrence. Big or small, near or far, here’s how YOU can help me reach my goal of 1,600 total items+dollars before Thanksgiving / Birthgiving Day, November 26:

Donate a little (or a lot) to your local food pantry.
Share this post and/or your donation story, and encourage your friends to donate to their local food pantry. Let social media work for you!
Organize a mini food drive in your office or neighborhood this month.
Focus on the items that food pantries have trouble keeping on their shelves… peanut butter, breakfast cereal, dried pasta and grains, personal hygiene products, bathroom tissue.
Take a photo of your donation and post to social media. Be sure to tag me on Twitter or Instagram, or on Facebook or LinkedIn if we’re connected there. And don’t forget the hashtag! #Feed40x40
Change your social media and/or e-mail profile pic to the Feed 40×40 graphic, for an hour, a day, or the whole month.
And please: Whether by photo, tweet, post or carrier pigeon… TELL ME when you’ve donated. The PR person in me needs to measure the effectiveness of this campaign. Click here for a handy form you can fill out. Fact is, I gotta know if we hit 1,600. (And I promise to let you know, too!)

Help me spread the word. Help me make a difference. And help me spread thankfulness all month long — to those who have a lot, and to those who don’t.

I don’t normally ask people to do things for me. But it’s my birthday. Won’t you help make it special?

What Happens When the Wheels Come Off?

October 13, 2015 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Growth & change, Thoughtful work Leave a Comment

At this particular moment in my life, I am the president of the Kansas School Public Relations Association. And at this particular point in the year, I’m in the final days of planning our group’s annual fall conference. Since the beginning of the planning process, I have had the time and resources to do things the way I like. Great speakers were locked in many months in advance. The conference site was reserved 10 months ago. Sponsors have been abundant and generous. And a dedicated and hard-working committee of friends and colleagues make the rest of this machine run.

So imagine my surprise last week — 26 days before the opening session — when I got a call from the sponsor and partner who had helped us secure a beautiful meeting space for our event.

“They’re telling us you can’t use their space for your conference,” I hear. “We don’t know what’s going on, but it isn’t looking good. You’ll need to start working on a Plan B.”

And with that phone call, my conference — and the 50+ colleagues, speakers and sponsors scheduled to attend — had become a conference without a home. We were going to be professionally homeless for two days in November.

A lot of things go through a person’s head at a moment like this. Mostly, it’s some combination of, “You’ve got to be kidding me,” “So, this isn’t good,” and “Well, crap.”

The next several hours were exactly what anyone would expect, given the circumstances. Drop everything. Get started making phone calls, sending Facebook and Twitter messages, exchanging texts and e-mails. Try to identify any potential connection and call out every potential favor. And, of course, mobilize the great people I know to do the same.

Incredibly, not 24 hours after that phone call, we had a new space that is no more than a hundred yards from the original space. (Huge props to our sponsor and partner for doing the heavy lifting to get us in such a nice space, so quickly.) Looking back it’s a no-big-deal-all-is-well-that-ends-well kind of thing, but the eventual answer was anything but obvious at the time. Mercifully, this oh-my-goodness-please-do-not-be-true experience was short lived. But most amazing to me was my persistent calm. I did not panic. I did not cry. I did not even feel like crying. How can this be?

In those very same hours, a friend and her family was embarking on a once-in-a-lifetime family vacation to Disney World, when they missed their connecting evening flight in Dallas. And the next flight they needed was more than 24 hours later. First thing the next morning, I was greeted by this…I was amazed and deeply impressed. Faced with disaster, they rented a car, drove through the night and didn’t look back. I commented later how much I admired her attitude and resolve. “Next time I find myself in a totally discouraging, irritating, out-of-my-control situation, I am going to channel your attitude and problem solving. Seriously impressed. (I’d still be yelling at someone and crying in the DFW bathroom.)”

Her response? “I have to be honest. That is exactly what I wanted to do. Unfortunately it wouldn’t have solved anything! We are in Tallahassee. 270 miles left!”

Not more than an hour later, a friend and colleague who heard about the homeless conference emergency e-mailed me. “I would probably be a hot mess crying on the bathroom floor if I got that kind of news.”

And then it hit me. My Disney-bound friend and I were actually in the same shoes. We were both faced with something that we couldn’t control, that threatened to all but undo an otherwise awesome experience. And instead of panic, shouting or bathroom tears, we chose resolve.

Maybe this is maturity — this don’t-panic-just-solve-the-problem state of mind. Whatever it is, I love it. Crying in the bathroom may feel good for a short time, but it’s pretty useless when there are problems to solve.

When busy means Hair On Fire

August 25, 2015 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Growth & change 2 Comments

It’s been a rough several months. Unbelievably heavy professional work load, uncommonly stressful personal trials.

I’ve also discovered the overwhelm of amazing opportunities, the invitations to do something awesome — to use my skills to make a difference. The chance to meet great people, do important work, and relish the abundance that exists when you say yes to something great. It’s awesome. Unless your hair’s on fire.

In May I was invited to join a couple of respected colleagues on a new communications venture. This came in the same weeks that I was spending time with my 92-year-old granddad as his life was ending. And supporting my young son in an especially difficult bout of anxiety. At work, I was migrating a massive website, studying for my APR professional accreditation exam and wrapping up a school year. I was so flattered by the invitation, and intrigued by the opportunity to use my expertise to support others. But something was holding me back.

In a phone call with a very wise friend a week or two later, I reflected on how busy I’d been in the past year, even without the stress that May presented. Writing a book. Building a personal website. Working with a new superintendent.

Sitting in my parked car — where I’ve discovered I tend to be unusually productive — I told her that I’d reached the point of busy where I resented it. I was unhappy. I love being engaged in work that challenges and rewards. (And besides, who doesn’t love the feeling of being asked to play a role in something cool? Write a book? Deliver a presentation? Start a new venture? Count me in!) But this was different, I said. This kind of busy was stealing my joy.

I told her it was a Lighting My Hair On Fire busy. And in that moment, I realized that’s why I was unhappy.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that any hair on fire scenario, whether literal or metaphorical, is probably bad. I’m a loyal subscriber to the notion that you make time for the things that are important to you, and I believe there is generally enough time for those important things, even in the finite 24-hour day. Call me selfish, but eating, sleeping, showering and hugging my kids rank high among my most important things.

Doing my best professional work also ranks up there pretty high, but I needed to simplify. The idealist in me is always wooed by the chance to do The Good Work, but I needed to step away from a few volunteer boards, at least temporarily. I needed to think harder every time I was invited to spend a day on the road to deliver a 45-minute presentation.

I’ve found it can be physically painful to turn down an invitation to do what I love — to make things better through strategic communications and collaboration. But that pain is far less than the pain of hair on fire — running around, frantic and desperate to put it out. That’s no way to live a joyful life.

I’m learning to name my top priorities — caring for my family and myself, and delivering professional value to my colleagues — and go from there. If a new opportunity cuts too deeply into any of them, it’s too much. I’ll probably always be working toward that sweet spot, where I can grow and learn, love on my family, and breathe. But as I unhook myself from some commitments, and simply finish up others without replacing them, I’m getting closer.

I don’t seek perfect, continuous balance. It doesn’t exist. But I do seek the calm contentment that comes with knowing that, even when I’m busy, the most important pieces of my life still fit.

Viral Content: Careful What You Wish For

March 10, 2015 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Growth & change, Social Media, Thoughtful work Leave a Comment

Going Viral. There are few phrases in the world of social media — and in today’s culture, for that matter — with more immediate meaning. We know the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge videos that filled our feeds. We know Justin Bieber, Susan Boyle and Gangnam Style. We know the Harlem Shake. And we know more sad cat, cute puppy and funny baby videos than we care to count.

It’s completely natural, in this age of information and sharing, to aspire to create viral content. And unless you’re breaking out a new superstar or the latest adorable child/animal, it’s only reasonable to admit that going viral is a pie-in-the-sky aspiration, at best. But in an age when celebrity status is currency, it’s also completely natural to think, Wouldn’t it be amazing if this went viral?, when releasing a message, video, photo or story that we know really is special. I can only imagine the conversations that took place at the ALS Association when they talked about this silly idea — this special idea — and contemplated how far the ice-bucket-dumping-cash-donating phenomenon would travel. I doubt anyone in the room that day predicted it would raise $115 million in two months, more than 3,500% of the money raised the year before. Viral, anyone?

Back in early February, I had a bit of a lucky spell. A Facebook post on my district page went viral. I also had two personal posts (here and here), shared just a few minutes apart with some reflections on the state of public education in my home state of Kansas. And in a way I’ve never personally experienced, these also caught fire with friends, with friends of friends and — I would come to learn — with complete strangers.

In that mad and crazy week, I learned some lessons I never expected, and a couple of them still bother me a little, sometimes.

LESSON ONE:

You will never, ever — EVER — be able to measure how far your content reached, or how many people saw it. (I almost wonder if the impossibility of measurement is somehow part of the definition of going viral.)

For someone who works in public relations — and who delights in the Facebook Insight data on a near-daily basis — the sheer inability to measure has been hard to admit. I kept thinking there just had to be a way to compile metrics on how far our post really reached, but I eventually conceded defeat. We were able to easily measure our reach from the original post, including shares and shares of shares. But there were too many original posts about our content on Facebook, often with zero connection to our first post. No matter the approach, I learned no amount of searching, measuring and piecing together would give me the complete picture. I’d just have be willing to settle on this highly scientific evaluation: An Unbelievably Large Number Of People That Destroyed Anything Else We’ve Ever Posted.

LESSON TWO:

The second lesson learned — and one that is still slightly uncomfortable to share — is the personal toll that viral content can take.

Anything that goes viral will attract haters. And let’s face it: If these people can find things to criticize on a video of a baby giraffe, they’ll surely find something to dislike about a strongly worded statement about school funding and state government.

But even the positive attention, which accounted for the vast majority of feedback on all three posts, took a toll on my mental health. The constant monitoring, the searching and counting, and just the repeated surprise and flat-out shock that these messages were on fire … these chronic hits of adrenaline made it very hard to tune out at the end of the day. At times the viral content was exhilarating, and the way it resonated with others was certainly affirming. But the roller coaster in a theme park is designed to only lasts a few minutes. As my social media roller coaster lasted hours, and then days, I wore down.

To be perfectly honest, this second lesson learned feels silly to admit. Why didn’t I just shut off my phone or stop checking stats? Why didn’t I reconfigure my personal posts to stop the strangers from seeing them? Why did I let Facebook friend requests from the adorable moms-I-have-never-met creep me out? What exactly was so hard? And why exactly did it affect me so personally?

I don’t know.

But more than once, I’ve thought of Jason Russell, the activist filmmaker and mastermind behind the Kony 2012 campaign. His video and cause went viral — 50 million views in three days! Unsurprisingly, this man was instantly in demand for high-profile interviews and phone calls, around the clock. But the intense attention generated by going viral — even though it was exactly what he aimed for — also brought Russell to a harrowing halt when he was hospitalized after a dramatic and very public psychotic break. Putting himself and his work out there for mass consumption took a psychological and physical toll that nobody would have imagined.

Source: Chris Holden / Huffington Post http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-holden/kony-2012-timeline_b_1387729.html

Mercifully my experience has only a teeny tiny shred in common with Jason Russell’s. But in the midst of my three posts — one professional and two personal — I glimpsed the way that going viral can scrutinize, overwhelm and ultimately break a content creator. Maybe it’s Introvert Kristin bleeding through here, but a real and lingering internal pressure lurks when content goes viral. I just couldn’t shake the sense that everyone wanted a piece of what I made, they wanted a piece of me, and they wanted it now. At the height of the sharing, I felt hollowed out, I felt overexposed and mostly, I just felt spent. I had no more to give.

But time passed, and much like a swarm of bees people moved on to the next round of content — content that someone else had created and shared. Whew. And now with the benefit of hindsight, these challenges seem more understandable, less bewildering.

Ultimately, I’m a communicator, and the messages I offer reflect my passion, my ideas and my creation. I can’t separate all my content from myself.

When it counts the most, it’s personal.

I imagine I’ll always create content that I hope will catch fire — after all, that’s the whole point of social media. But now, when I prepare to share that special idea with the world, I go in with open eyes. I prepare to feel overwhelmed and vulnerable. I prepare to care for my mental health. And I know that it will pass.

But of all the lessons I’ve learned, perhaps the simplest applies best: Be careful what you wish for … it just might come true.

How do you do it all?

January 28, 2015 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Growth & change 2 Comments

“I’m flexible, and I know you’re busy, Kristin,” a friend wrote in an e-mail as we tried to schedule a lunch date. “I’m not sure how you do it all.”

This, as I sat at my kitchen table with my laptop, while my pukey daughter watched 1982’s Annie (of course) and drifted in and out of sleep on the sofa in the next room. In that moment, in fact, I did feel like a bit of a superhero: impressively productive for work, while attentive and loving for my little patient. My son’s comforter was even clean and hanging to dry outdoors on the unseasonably warm January day. It was effortless.

But I quickly replied to my sweet friend: “Well, here’s my secret: I DON’T do it all! In fact, I do a lot of things half way and some things not at all.”

Tonight, another friend posted something similar. “I can’t craft worth a damn, but I can clean like a boss. I wear sweats and look homeless, but I cook dinner (almost) every night.”

See? This by-all-appearances-superwoman is also doing some things halfway — and other things not at all. It works.

I imagine there are a lot of moms — and women in general — who give off superwoman vibes, appearing to balancing work, kids, family, friends and — of course — clever and endearing social media posts about any of these things. To my insecurities, these are the ladies who prepare nutritious and tasty meals on a weeknight, have clean clothes folded in dresser drawers, organize chores with magnetic charts, arrange Sunday Funday activities every week, send thoughtful cards and gifts and save all kinds of money on their grocery bill.

But hearing that someone else thinks I’m doing it all stopped me in my tracks. It’s time for some honesty.

Yes, I work full time and love preparing a nice dinner several times a week. I wrote a book last year and still squeezed in a few family trips to the lake. But in exchange, there were things that didn’t happen. Christmas cards didn’t go out, and who had time to arrange a 2014 family photo? My kids don’t have clean bedsheets nearly as often as they should, and our carpets? Forget it, with a big dog and two kids. We rarely do date nights and never weekend getaways because it would mean getting a sitter and making reservations and who has the energy for that? My plan for family dinners is always subject to rushed schedules and a frozen pizza. My weekly grocery bill is, if anything, broken up over 300 trips to the store and rarely a model of savings. And sometimes we forget about preschool “share days” and the third grader’s homework.

All of this is okay. In fact, it’s so okay that I was accused of doing it all. (Take that, insecurity!)

Yes, there are those brief and beautiful moments when I really do find myself doing it all. Working remotely from home, with my sick baby getting all the mama time she needs and my work deadlines getting all the attention they need. I’m easily and especially grateful in those moments because they are so uncommon. But the trick is not making those moments the goal because, ultimately, they’re are mostly out of our control. It’s just good luck, like looking in just the right spot at just the right moment to see a shooting star.

Let’s redefine this notion of doing it all. Let’s agree that it means living, loving, working, growing, pausing. And laughing. It means doing some things well, some things not as well, and some things not at all. And the things in that first category may be different, depending on the day.

Don’t get me wrong. I know that this makes a day messy and imperfect — and often the last thing you’d want to post on social media. But I also know that there’s an entire night full of stars out there to enjoy. Don’t let the goal of a shooting star steal the joy of a whole beautiful sky.

Allowing for change

December 22, 2014 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Growth & change, Personal branding Leave a Comment

Life is changing — always — yes. But there are those times when it seems that the changes are more profound, more apparent, more challenging. For me, that was 2014.

A book deal came in the first part of the year, followed by a madness of interviewing and wondering and writing and editing. As soon as the manuscript was done, I was moving on to video shoots and online content for the enhanced ebook. But before the last round of editing came two months of discernment about what this new project will come to mean for me. What kind of attention will the book bring? What will people want from me? What will readers expect from me?

Don’t get me wrong — at no point in this past year have I ever thought this to be some kind of a book phenomenon in the making. My expectations for the book are exceedingly realistic, and my goal is, simply, to reach the readers who will find support and encouragement in its pages.

But regardless of reach, I knew long before I had written the final chapter that I would need to pull together a polished personal brand online. If a reader, or potential reader, were to look me up online, I want to be found — and I want to be found in a way that clearly affirms my values, skills and traits. As impossible as it feels at times, I need to embrace ways to present myself as intelligent, thoughtful, connected and entirely human. The most logical place to do that was inside this blog.

The first time I blogged, slightly more than 12 months ago, it was just an outlet for me and my thoughts. My first post, in fact, squarely announced that I am not a blogger. At that time, I wasn’t a book author, either.

Change happens.

In August and September, I finally accepted that the time had come for a blog overhaul. What I’ve learned, over and over, in the time since is that this hasn’t just been a redesign with an updated font package and prettier photos. It has been a complete re-imagination of both purpose and personal brand. Thank goodness I had the forethought (and wise encouragement) to hire an expert to guide me through this process; I otherwise would have been lost at sea forever, blowing between questions of wording and photos and fonts and hosting and structure. (The worst kind of creative purgatory for this girl.)

Thanks to my designer (who also has served at different points as creative director, tech expert, career counselor and overall life coach), the site is now live. It’s not completely optimized for SEO; I have saved that special treat of a project for some of my holiday down time. But the site is ready for the world and, most importantly, ready for my readers. Ready for you!

Looking back, this year has been a roller coaster of confidence and vulnerability, thrill and fatigue, knowledge and ignorance. And because I officially deemed 2014 the year of more-than-I-bargained-for changes, I capped it off last week by getting a new cell phone.

Have mercy.