I was practically jumping with excitement as my Dad and I boarded the shuttle out of LaGuardia Airport, bound for D.C.
It was September, 1975. We were going to Washington to buy my first real car (if you don’t consider the 1960 Studebaker Lark I had been puttering around in until then). I had no doubts about the seller, either - he was my Dad’s brother, Uncle Sandy.
Uncle Sandy wasn’t selling me just any car, mind you. He was selling me a blue 1970 Chevelle SS (Super Sport), with a 375-cubic-inch engine and nearly 400 horsepower. In mint condition. Suffice it to say that my cousins all referred to the car as “The Jet.” And, oh, yeah…it was a convertible, to boot.
After what seemed like 45 hours rather than 45 minutes, we arrived at the gate in Washington, and the captain turned off the seat-belt sign. Everyone crowded into the aisle to get their stuff from the overhead bins.
My Dad got into aisle behind me. As I turned around I saw that he was having a hard time getting his sport coat on in the cramped space. From behind him, a tall, ruddy, red-faced man grabbed the loose arm of the sport coat, and helped my Dad get it on.
My Dad threw a “Thanks” over his shoulder, never even looking at the man. But I did. It was Senator Ted Kennedy.
I frantically tried to signal my Dad to turn around and look at the man. But he wasn’t picking up on my signal. Finally I just said – when I could finally get the words out of my mouth – “Dad, turn around.”
I had always been fascinated by politics; I had even recently served as a part-time aide to a Congressman from Long Island named Lester Wolff. And the Kennedys were America’s political royalty.
We started talking, me and my Dad and Ted Kennedy. As we walked off the plane and into the terminal, I told him of my love for politics, my work for Congressman Wolff, and my desire to eventually serve my country in some way.
I remember being fascinated, as we walked, that no one seemed even to notice Senator Kennedy; and those who did, didn’t seem to think it was such a big deal.
“You’ve got to remember,” my Dad whispered to me. “This is Washington. They see him all the time.”
I was struck by the fact that Ted Kennedy listened to every word I said as if I was testifying at a congressional hearing. His face lit up when I told him of my passion for politics, and my determination to use my communications skills to help my country.
And when he responded, it was with sincere interest, and with animation. And he didn’t seem to notice any of the people who were noticing him.
Then, to our amazement, he invited us into a private lounge. He ordered a drink for himself and my dad, and a Coke for me. And he motioned us to sit down at a table.
And there we sat, probably for another half-hour, as he listened intently to what was probably incessant babbling on my part. He talked about various ways that I could, indeed, use my passion to change the world. He talked of his boyhood summers in Hyannis Port. We all laughed about his family’s famous touch football games on the lawn of their compound. He even, at one point, made reference to his dead brothers.
He also talked a bit about the Senate, and how difficult it could sometimes be to forge a consensus that would allow important legislation to be passed.
I watched him with fascination. And I felt the burden that must have been his every day of his life. The burden of sadness, and the burden of responsibility.
But he didn’t show it outwardly. He was quick to laugh, and it was a sweet, loud, deep laugh.
And then he had to go.
As we said goodbye, he wished me luck with my ambitions, and urged me to be involved in the causes in which I believed. And as he shook my hand, in front of everyone else in the lounge, I had an incredible feeling of newfound self-importance.
I never saw him again. Never spoke to him again. Thought about writing him after that…but, somehow, I never did. I guess I figured he probably wouldn’t remember me.
But now, I wish I had.
I’m filled with a sadness now, at the passing – whether you loved or hated his politics – of an American icon, of the Lion in Winter.
But, whenever I think of that afternoon at Dulles International Airport, I can’t help but smile.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
Friday, August 28, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
RIDING SHOTGUN
RIDING SHOTGUN
In the Old West, if you were a passenger on a stagecoach, your chances of reaching your destination alive (or, at least, still in possession of your money) often depended on the rifleman sitting up front next to the driver – the man “riding shotgun.”
In the New Millenium, however, if you’re a public relations practitioner, you should know that the shotgun-approach so prevalent in our industry today is one of the primary reasons that “PR” has such a tarnished reputation.
Just throwing mud - boring, inappropriate, or lacking-news-value pitches - at the media, and hoping some of it sticks, is not a prescription for effective communication. Actually, it hasn’t been considered an effective means of public relations for some time – by evolved practitioners, anyway. And that's especially true these days, when each of us devotes only 3-5 seconds to deciding whether we’re going to continue to read or watch what we’ve started reading or watching.
I'm forever trying to educate clients that their "great" story is great only if it offers the readers or viewers (not the media itself…but the readers or viewers of the media!) actionable advice that can help make their personal or professional lives better. If there's not a real "news" value to what I'm asked to pitch...I won't pitch it. It's cost me a client here or there. But it's damned worth it.
We live (and work) in an era of fly-by attention spans, when we are bombarded with thousands of messages in a day. We are bombarded with so many messages, in fact, that most of us couldn’t name messages we heard or saw less than a minute ago. And - in the name of preserving our sanity - we end up tuning out most of these messages.
Doesn’t it occur to us that the people we’re trying to reach with our own messages are the same way? Doesn’t it occur to us that if we hit them anywhere but where it really counts – in their hearts – we’re wasting our time?
More than ever, coverage in the appropriate niche is worth much more than coverage in scattered media that are of no genuine value to your clients' businesses. You'd think clients, of all people, would be more open to understanding this. But it's not their fault.
The real fault lies with the agencies and the corporate PR practitioners who have a golden opportunity to educate their clients (or in-house clients), and don't do it. And as long as PR people practice the shotgun approach – generally in the hopes of achieving short-term “results” - clients will continue to think it's best.
I'm a twenty-year veteran in this business. And I'm still waiting for the day when the volume and width of media “pitches” matters less than the quality of the resulting media coverage...when the number of “hits’ matters less than the number of relevant hits.
What I’m waiting for, essentially, is the day when output matters less than results.
And when the “shotgun” approach is seen only on old westerns...and not in new public relations campaigns.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
In the Old West, if you were a passenger on a stagecoach, your chances of reaching your destination alive (or, at least, still in possession of your money) often depended on the rifleman sitting up front next to the driver – the man “riding shotgun.”
In the New Millenium, however, if you’re a public relations practitioner, you should know that the shotgun-approach so prevalent in our industry today is one of the primary reasons that “PR” has such a tarnished reputation.
Just throwing mud - boring, inappropriate, or lacking-news-value pitches - at the media, and hoping some of it sticks, is not a prescription for effective communication. Actually, it hasn’t been considered an effective means of public relations for some time – by evolved practitioners, anyway. And that's especially true these days, when each of us devotes only 3-5 seconds to deciding whether we’re going to continue to read or watch what we’ve started reading or watching.
I'm forever trying to educate clients that their "great" story is great only if it offers the readers or viewers (not the media itself…but the readers or viewers of the media!) actionable advice that can help make their personal or professional lives better. If there's not a real "news" value to what I'm asked to pitch...I won't pitch it. It's cost me a client here or there. But it's damned worth it.
We live (and work) in an era of fly-by attention spans, when we are bombarded with thousands of messages in a day. We are bombarded with so many messages, in fact, that most of us couldn’t name messages we heard or saw less than a minute ago. And - in the name of preserving our sanity - we end up tuning out most of these messages.
Doesn’t it occur to us that the people we’re trying to reach with our own messages are the same way? Doesn’t it occur to us that if we hit them anywhere but where it really counts – in their hearts – we’re wasting our time?
More than ever, coverage in the appropriate niche is worth much more than coverage in scattered media that are of no genuine value to your clients' businesses. You'd think clients, of all people, would be more open to understanding this. But it's not their fault.
The real fault lies with the agencies and the corporate PR practitioners who have a golden opportunity to educate their clients (or in-house clients), and don't do it. And as long as PR people practice the shotgun approach – generally in the hopes of achieving short-term “results” - clients will continue to think it's best.
I'm a twenty-year veteran in this business. And I'm still waiting for the day when the volume and width of media “pitches” matters less than the quality of the resulting media coverage...when the number of “hits’ matters less than the number of relevant hits.
What I’m waiting for, essentially, is the day when output matters less than results.
And when the “shotgun” approach is seen only on old westerns...and not in new public relations campaigns.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
Friday, August 21, 2009
RUNNING THE RAPIDS
RUNNING THE RAPIDS
The Nantahala River was freezing – even though it was August. I yanked back my right hand, which had been greeted with such a harsh shock by the cold water.
And then the rapids started coming…one after the other. As I was seated in the front of the raft, I was the one who got smashed – every time – with the frigid water that hit me in the face and body like a ton of steel.
“Wait a minute…it’s August!” I kept thinking. But then I realized that I really shouldn’t have been surprised.
After all, I knew about the Nantahala Gorge. I had climbed it before (see July 22 blog entry). Actually, I had been climbing and hiking in this section of Great Smokey Mountains National Park for years. And I had run tougher rivers in the area…the French Broad (yes, it’s called the French Broad!), the Tuckeseegee (it’s called “The Tuck”).
And I had been warned by other whitewater devotees that the flow in the Nantahala was frigid even in summer – low forties – perhaps because much of it had been snowmelt, controlled by the engineers at the Fontana Dam a few miles upriver.
So why was I so shocked when I quickly pulled my hand from the frothy water, or when it smacked me right in the face? Because, I think, reality is often different than perception. To put it in PR terms, you can prepare for something…but that doesn’t mean you’re actually ready for it.
Those of you who know me well know that my two passions in life are my work and outdoor adventure. And that I often see parallels between the two.
My trip through the mostly-Class II and occasional-Class III rapids of the Nantahala Gorge (V is considered world-class) last week was full of such parallels.
For one thing, someone in a neighboring boat went over the side. He was a huge guy, who had flipped off his boat and had, somehow, managed to find his footing amidst the rushing waters and slippery rocks enough to make it to the riverbank. But now he was stranded there.
We had to stop and try to get him back to his boat, because it’s sort of an unwritten law on the river that you don’t leave someone behind. And that took a lot of coordination, a lot of arm-locking across the rapids, a lot of shouting over the roar of the water to people who were only a foot or two away, a lot of nimble feet to keep from getting trapped under the rocks at the bottom…and a lot of teamwork. Again, a PR parallel.
Finally, of course, we got the big guy back to his raft. And it occurred to me then, as we took off again, that, really, everything we were doing had to be done in the spirit of teamwork and cooperation. Each of us had to try to power our oars through the rough waters at the same cadence, with the same stroke (depth-wise) and with the same purpose.
But that wasn’t all. Each of us had our own individual functions, as well. As the guy in the front, I was a kind of “point man,” calling out what was ahead, looking for dead trees in the water, trying to point the craft in the right direction, etc. (and, of course, yelling back to the others, “Man, this water’s f_____’in freezing!!”). The people in the middle of the craft had their responsibilities, as well, along with the man in back, who knew the Nantahala Gorge – every curve and every downed tree and every boulder – like the back of his hand.
There was plenty more that I recognized, as well, as parallels with public relations. My arms should have been tired. But they weren’t. I should have been dehydrated, because the temperature that day was close to 100, and, when you’re running the rapids, there’s no time for a quick swig of water. But I wasn’t. I should have been mentally exhausted. But I wasn’t.
In fact, the feelings I had were just the opposite. I was elated. Energized. Empowered. Because I had done my job. Because I was in “The Zone”…where you don’t feel physical or emotional stress because you know, at that moment, you’re at the top of your game, and nothing can stop you. Because I was part of a team. And because – individually as well as cooperatively – I had taken on a challenge and triumphed.
And those are the same types of feelings that I get from my profession. (In fact, as I’m writing this, I’m actually in The Zone right now…just today, I had one of my clients interviewed by both the CBS and ABC affiliates here in Greater Miami/Fort Lauderdale. And I feel energized as hell from that!)
My trip down the Nantahala Gorge helped me realize (again) something that I’m fortunate enough to feel so many times in the PR profession - that there is incredible joy in work well-done.
My whitewater rafting-PR parallels, in a nutshell:
* Our profession – particularly these days – often feels like we’re running the
rapids.
* Teamwork and cooperation are more essential than ever.
* Just because we’re assigned one specific duty that no one else may be doing,
that doesn’t mean that we’re not part of “The Team.”
* Know your role…as an individual and as a team-member.
* When you’re in “The Zone”…nothing else matters. Just go with it. And enjoy the
hell out of it.
* Keep a sharp eye out for unexpected obstacles. And that goes double when things
are going smoothly.
* Be aware that things aren’t always what they seem.
* Recognize that being “prepared” for something does not always mean that you’re
actually ready for it.
* Even while you’re handling one challenge, always keep an eye out for the next one.
And, lastly, watch out for that “frigid water”…even in summer!
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
The Nantahala River was freezing – even though it was August. I yanked back my right hand, which had been greeted with such a harsh shock by the cold water.
And then the rapids started coming…one after the other. As I was seated in the front of the raft, I was the one who got smashed – every time – with the frigid water that hit me in the face and body like a ton of steel.
“Wait a minute…it’s August!” I kept thinking. But then I realized that I really shouldn’t have been surprised.
After all, I knew about the Nantahala Gorge. I had climbed it before (see July 22 blog entry). Actually, I had been climbing and hiking in this section of Great Smokey Mountains National Park for years. And I had run tougher rivers in the area…the French Broad (yes, it’s called the French Broad!), the Tuckeseegee (it’s called “The Tuck”).
And I had been warned by other whitewater devotees that the flow in the Nantahala was frigid even in summer – low forties – perhaps because much of it had been snowmelt, controlled by the engineers at the Fontana Dam a few miles upriver.
So why was I so shocked when I quickly pulled my hand from the frothy water, or when it smacked me right in the face? Because, I think, reality is often different than perception. To put it in PR terms, you can prepare for something…but that doesn’t mean you’re actually ready for it.
Those of you who know me well know that my two passions in life are my work and outdoor adventure. And that I often see parallels between the two.
My trip through the mostly-Class II and occasional-Class III rapids of the Nantahala Gorge (V is considered world-class) last week was full of such parallels.
For one thing, someone in a neighboring boat went over the side. He was a huge guy, who had flipped off his boat and had, somehow, managed to find his footing amidst the rushing waters and slippery rocks enough to make it to the riverbank. But now he was stranded there.
We had to stop and try to get him back to his boat, because it’s sort of an unwritten law on the river that you don’t leave someone behind. And that took a lot of coordination, a lot of arm-locking across the rapids, a lot of shouting over the roar of the water to people who were only a foot or two away, a lot of nimble feet to keep from getting trapped under the rocks at the bottom…and a lot of teamwork. Again, a PR parallel.
Finally, of course, we got the big guy back to his raft. And it occurred to me then, as we took off again, that, really, everything we were doing had to be done in the spirit of teamwork and cooperation. Each of us had to try to power our oars through the rough waters at the same cadence, with the same stroke (depth-wise) and with the same purpose.
But that wasn’t all. Each of us had our own individual functions, as well. As the guy in the front, I was a kind of “point man,” calling out what was ahead, looking for dead trees in the water, trying to point the craft in the right direction, etc. (and, of course, yelling back to the others, “Man, this water’s f_____’in freezing!!”). The people in the middle of the craft had their responsibilities, as well, along with the man in back, who knew the Nantahala Gorge – every curve and every downed tree and every boulder – like the back of his hand.
There was plenty more that I recognized, as well, as parallels with public relations. My arms should have been tired. But they weren’t. I should have been dehydrated, because the temperature that day was close to 100, and, when you’re running the rapids, there’s no time for a quick swig of water. But I wasn’t. I should have been mentally exhausted. But I wasn’t.
In fact, the feelings I had were just the opposite. I was elated. Energized. Empowered. Because I had done my job. Because I was in “The Zone”…where you don’t feel physical or emotional stress because you know, at that moment, you’re at the top of your game, and nothing can stop you. Because I was part of a team. And because – individually as well as cooperatively – I had taken on a challenge and triumphed.
And those are the same types of feelings that I get from my profession. (In fact, as I’m writing this, I’m actually in The Zone right now…just today, I had one of my clients interviewed by both the CBS and ABC affiliates here in Greater Miami/Fort Lauderdale. And I feel energized as hell from that!)
My trip down the Nantahala Gorge helped me realize (again) something that I’m fortunate enough to feel so many times in the PR profession - that there is incredible joy in work well-done.
My whitewater rafting-PR parallels, in a nutshell:
* Our profession – particularly these days – often feels like we’re running the
rapids.
* Teamwork and cooperation are more essential than ever.
* Just because we’re assigned one specific duty that no one else may be doing,
that doesn’t mean that we’re not part of “The Team.”
* Know your role…as an individual and as a team-member.
* When you’re in “The Zone”…nothing else matters. Just go with it. And enjoy the
hell out of it.
* Keep a sharp eye out for unexpected obstacles. And that goes double when things
are going smoothly.
* Be aware that things aren’t always what they seem.
* Recognize that being “prepared” for something does not always mean that you’re
actually ready for it.
* Even while you’re handling one challenge, always keep an eye out for the next one.
And, lastly, watch out for that “frigid water”…even in summer!
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
RUNNING THE RAPIDS
RUNNING THE RAPIDS
The Nantahala River was freezing – even though it was August. I yanked back my right hand, which had been greeted with such a harsh shock by the cold water.
And then the rapids started coming…one after the other. As I was seated in the front of the raft, I was the one who got smashed – every time – with the frigid water that hit me in the face and body like a ton of steel.
“Wait a minute…it’s August!” I kept thinking. But then I realized that I really shouldn’t have been surprised.
After all, I knew about the Nantahala Gorge. I had climbed it before (see July 22 blog entry). Actually, I had been climbing and hiking in this section of Great Smokey Mountains National Park for years. And I had run tougher rivers in the area…the French Broad (yes, it’s called the French Broad!), the Tuckeseegee (it’s called “The Tuck”).
And I had been warned by other whitewater devotees that the flow in the Nantahala was frigid even in summer – low forties – perhaps because much of it had been snowmelt, controlled by the engineers at the Fontana Dam a few miles upriver.
So why was I so shocked when I quickly pulled my hand from the frothy water, or when it smacked me right in the face? Because, I think, reality is often different than perception. To put it in PR terms, you can prepare for something…but that doesn’t mean you’re actually ready for it.
Those of you who know me well know that my two passions in life are my work and outdoor adventure. And that I often see parallels between the two.
My trip through the mostly-Class II and occasional-Class III rapids of the Nantahala Gorge (V is considered world-class) last week was full of such parallels.
For one thing, someone in a neighboring boat went over the side. He was a huge guy, who had flipped off his boat and had, somehow, managed to find his footing amidst the rushing waters and slippery rocks enough to make it to the riverbank. But now he was stranded there.
We had to stop and try to get him back to his boat, because it’s sort of an unwritten law on the river that you don’t leave someone behind. And that took a lot of coordination, a lot of arm-locking across the rapids, a lot of shouting over the roar of the water to people who were only a foot or two away, a lot of nimble feet to keep from getting trapped under the rocks at the bottom…and a lot of teamwork. Again, a PR parallel.
Finally, of course, we got the big guy back to his raft. And it occurred to me then, as we took off again, that, really, everything we were doing had to be done in the spirit of teamwork and cooperation. Each of us had to try to power our oars through the rough waters at the same cadence, with the same stroke (depth-wise) and with the same purpose.
But that wasn’t all. Each of us had our own individual functions, as well. As the guy in the front, I was a kind of “point man,” calling out what was ahead, looking for dead trees in the water, trying to point the craft in the right direction, etc. (and, of course, yelling back to the others, “Man, this water’s f_____’in freezing!!”). The people in the middle of the craft had their responsibilities, as well, along with the man in back, who knew the Nantahala – every curve and every downed tree and every boulder – like the back of his hand.
There was plenty more that I recognized, as well, as parallels with public relations. My arms should have been tired. But they weren’t. I should have been dehydrated, because the temperature that day was close to 100, and, when you’re running the rapids, there’s no time for a quick swig of water. But I wasn’t. I should have been mentally exhausted. But I wasn’t.
In fact, the feelings I had were just the opposite. I was elated. Energized. Empowered. Because I had done my job. Because I was in “The Zone”…where you don’t feel physical or emotional stress because you know, at that moment, you’re at the top of your game, and nothing can stop you. Because I was part of a team. And because – individually as well as cooperatively – I had taken on a challenge and triumphed.
And those are the same types of feelings that I get from my profession. (In fact, as I’m writing this, I’m actually in The Zone right now…just today, I had one of my clients interviewed by both the CBS and ABC affiliates here in Greater Miami/Fort Lauderdale. And I feel energized as hell from that!)
My trip down the Nantahala Gorge helped me realize (again) something that I’m fortunate enough to feel so many times in the PR profession - that there is incredible joy in work well-done.
My whitewater rafting-PR parallels, in a nutshell:
* Our profession – particularly these days – often feels like we’re running the
rapids.
* Teamwork and cooperation are more essential than ever.
* Just because we’re assigned one specific duty that no one else may be doing,
that doesn’t mean that we’re not part of “The Team.”
* Know your role…as an individual and as a team-member.
* When you’re in “The Zone”…nothing else matters. Just go with it. And enjoy the
hell out of it.
* Keep a sharp eye out for unexpected obstacles. And that goes double when things
are going smoothly.
* Be aware that things aren’t always what they seem.
* Recognize that being “prepared” for something does not always mean that you’re
actually ready for it.
* Even while you’re handling one challenge, always keep an eye out for the next one.
And, lastly, watch out for that “frigid water”…even in summer!
The Nantahala River was freezing – even though it was August. I yanked back my right hand, which had been greeted with such a harsh shock by the cold water.
And then the rapids started coming…one after the other. As I was seated in the front of the raft, I was the one who got smashed – every time – with the frigid water that hit me in the face and body like a ton of steel.
“Wait a minute…it’s August!” I kept thinking. But then I realized that I really shouldn’t have been surprised.
After all, I knew about the Nantahala Gorge. I had climbed it before (see July 22 blog entry). Actually, I had been climbing and hiking in this section of Great Smokey Mountains National Park for years. And I had run tougher rivers in the area…the French Broad (yes, it’s called the French Broad!), the Tuckeseegee (it’s called “The Tuck”).
And I had been warned by other whitewater devotees that the flow in the Nantahala was frigid even in summer – low forties – perhaps because much of it had been snowmelt, controlled by the engineers at the Fontana Dam a few miles upriver.
So why was I so shocked when I quickly pulled my hand from the frothy water, or when it smacked me right in the face? Because, I think, reality is often different than perception. To put it in PR terms, you can prepare for something…but that doesn’t mean you’re actually ready for it.
Those of you who know me well know that my two passions in life are my work and outdoor adventure. And that I often see parallels between the two.
My trip through the mostly-Class II and occasional-Class III rapids of the Nantahala Gorge (V is considered world-class) last week was full of such parallels.
For one thing, someone in a neighboring boat went over the side. He was a huge guy, who had flipped off his boat and had, somehow, managed to find his footing amidst the rushing waters and slippery rocks enough to make it to the riverbank. But now he was stranded there.
We had to stop and try to get him back to his boat, because it’s sort of an unwritten law on the river that you don’t leave someone behind. And that took a lot of coordination, a lot of arm-locking across the rapids, a lot of shouting over the roar of the water to people who were only a foot or two away, a lot of nimble feet to keep from getting trapped under the rocks at the bottom…and a lot of teamwork. Again, a PR parallel.
Finally, of course, we got the big guy back to his raft. And it occurred to me then, as we took off again, that, really, everything we were doing had to be done in the spirit of teamwork and cooperation. Each of us had to try to power our oars through the rough waters at the same cadence, with the same stroke (depth-wise) and with the same purpose.
But that wasn’t all. Each of us had our own individual functions, as well. As the guy in the front, I was a kind of “point man,” calling out what was ahead, looking for dead trees in the water, trying to point the craft in the right direction, etc. (and, of course, yelling back to the others, “Man, this water’s f_____’in freezing!!”). The people in the middle of the craft had their responsibilities, as well, along with the man in back, who knew the Nantahala – every curve and every downed tree and every boulder – like the back of his hand.
There was plenty more that I recognized, as well, as parallels with public relations. My arms should have been tired. But they weren’t. I should have been dehydrated, because the temperature that day was close to 100, and, when you’re running the rapids, there’s no time for a quick swig of water. But I wasn’t. I should have been mentally exhausted. But I wasn’t.
In fact, the feelings I had were just the opposite. I was elated. Energized. Empowered. Because I had done my job. Because I was in “The Zone”…where you don’t feel physical or emotional stress because you know, at that moment, you’re at the top of your game, and nothing can stop you. Because I was part of a team. And because – individually as well as cooperatively – I had taken on a challenge and triumphed.
And those are the same types of feelings that I get from my profession. (In fact, as I’m writing this, I’m actually in The Zone right now…just today, I had one of my clients interviewed by both the CBS and ABC affiliates here in Greater Miami/Fort Lauderdale. And I feel energized as hell from that!)
My trip down the Nantahala Gorge helped me realize (again) something that I’m fortunate enough to feel so many times in the PR profession - that there is incredible joy in work well-done.
My whitewater rafting-PR parallels, in a nutshell:
* Our profession – particularly these days – often feels like we’re running the
rapids.
* Teamwork and cooperation are more essential than ever.
* Just because we’re assigned one specific duty that no one else may be doing,
that doesn’t mean that we’re not part of “The Team.”
* Know your role…as an individual and as a team-member.
* When you’re in “The Zone”…nothing else matters. Just go with it. And enjoy the
hell out of it.
* Keep a sharp eye out for unexpected obstacles. And that goes double when things
are going smoothly.
* Be aware that things aren’t always what they seem.
* Recognize that being “prepared” for something does not always mean that you’re
actually ready for it.
* Even while you’re handling one challenge, always keep an eye out for the next one.
And, lastly, watch out for that “frigid water”…even in summer!
Monday, August 17, 2009
RACING TO NOWHERE
I was once asked by a new client why, after a week, I had not received any major national media commitments. I thought about the answer for a minute. And then I fired the client.
That’s the conundrum facing so many PR practitioners today. Every client wants results now. But many of them just don’t understand the importance of focusing on a strategy that generates results over the long term – and generates them consistently.
I’ve learned to always ask new prospects one important question. Are you looking for a quick, short-term “bump” now? Or a long-term strategy that brings you into the future? If the answer is the former, I often suggest to them that they might feel more comfortable with a different PR firm.
Some prospects can relate to what I call my “snowflake analogy.” (It may seem like a bit of a stretch, people, but bear with me for a minute.) You might be able to see a snowflake; but, in actuality, it really doesn’t have much of an impact. But what if that snowflake turned into flurries? And what if those flurries turned into a snowball that starts rolling downhill? What if that snowball grew in size and momentum, into the size of a boulder. What if that boulder grew into a snowdrift? And what if that snowdrift grew into an avalanche?
What the hell is the rush???
Which is more important, for example, in media relations…an immediate “hit” that generates good feelings (and, often, little else), or a series of hits that builds in momentum over the longer-term? Which is more important…seeing the client’s name in the media, or actually generating new business? Which is more important…tossing out release after release, and hoping that one or two of them generate a bit of coverage; or focusing on a structured strategy that results in coverage that increases over time, in both frequency and size?
If we can’t – or won’t – ask those questions of ourselves as well as our clients, we’re actually guilty of aiding and abetting the unrealistic expectations that many clients have. And, in doing so, we’re guaranteeing that these wasteful, short-term, band-aid approaches will continue to characterize our industry – and our image.
It’s time that all of us who consider ourselves Public Relations “professionals” realize that our discipline is generally most effective if it’s strategic. And the strategic approach is usually not a sprint. It’s, most often, a marathon.
Otherwise, it often turns out to be a Race to Nowhere.
That’s the conundrum facing so many PR practitioners today. Every client wants results now. But many of them just don’t understand the importance of focusing on a strategy that generates results over the long term – and generates them consistently.
I’ve learned to always ask new prospects one important question. Are you looking for a quick, short-term “bump” now? Or a long-term strategy that brings you into the future? If the answer is the former, I often suggest to them that they might feel more comfortable with a different PR firm.
Some prospects can relate to what I call my “snowflake analogy.” (It may seem like a bit of a stretch, people, but bear with me for a minute.) You might be able to see a snowflake; but, in actuality, it really doesn’t have much of an impact. But what if that snowflake turned into flurries? And what if those flurries turned into a snowball that starts rolling downhill? What if that snowball grew in size and momentum, into the size of a boulder. What if that boulder grew into a snowdrift? And what if that snowdrift grew into an avalanche?
What the hell is the rush???
Which is more important, for example, in media relations…an immediate “hit” that generates good feelings (and, often, little else), or a series of hits that builds in momentum over the longer-term? Which is more important…seeing the client’s name in the media, or actually generating new business? Which is more important…tossing out release after release, and hoping that one or two of them generate a bit of coverage; or focusing on a structured strategy that results in coverage that increases over time, in both frequency and size?
If we can’t – or won’t – ask those questions of ourselves as well as our clients, we’re actually guilty of aiding and abetting the unrealistic expectations that many clients have. And, in doing so, we’re guaranteeing that these wasteful, short-term, band-aid approaches will continue to characterize our industry – and our image.
It’s time that all of us who consider ourselves Public Relations “professionals” realize that our discipline is generally most effective if it’s strategic. And the strategic approach is usually not a sprint. It’s, most often, a marathon.
Otherwise, it often turns out to be a Race to Nowhere.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
FACE TO FACE, IN A DIGITAL WORLD
FACE-TO-FACE, IN A DIGITAL WORLD
Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who still values face-to-face (or, at least, phone-to-phone) communication in business. And sometimes I feel like the guy holding the candle in the dark, yelling out forlornly, “Doesn’t anyone know that personal communication is still one of the most effective ways to practice public relations?”
I can still remember my discomfort at listening to a senior executive, several years ago, as he walked me around his company, bragging about their new “solutions.” "You don't even need human beings to do it!” he said happily. “There's no human interaction necessary!"
How sad, I remember thinking. Who, exactly, did he think invented this particular product or service or system (or “solution”)? Who did he suppose was going to market it? Who did he suppose was going to sell it? Who did he suppose was going to publicize it? And who did he suppose was going to buy it, and use it? Androids?
It's a crazy world out there, true; and many of us don't even have time to go to the bathroom, let alone actually nurture business relationships, by using more personal forms of communication. But it seems to me that this is still - perhaps more so than ever, since most of us don’t do it - one of the best ways of communicating. And keep in mind that communicating with our publics is one of the reasons we use the word “relationships.”
I like to think of myself as pretty well-attuned to – and generally pretty excited about – all the new and evolving ways of participating in electronic conversation. Yet, I can still fondly remember writing letters to out-of-state friends! As late as the nineties! With a pen and paper, not a computer! Why did I go to all that trouble? Simple. Because I knew the recipient would appreciate a hand-written letter more than they would an e-mail.
I still like to look into the eyes of the person with whom I’m communicating, if possible. When I was in the corporate world, I always made a point of actually walking to someone’s office when I wanted to talk to them, rather than sending an e-mail. If they were located elsewhere, I often made a point of calling them. Because you can pick up things – either in person or on the phone – that you just can’t pick up electronically. And, conversely, you can communicate things, either in person or on the phone, that you just can’t communicate electronically.
Why am I talking, in today’s blog, about more personal means of communication? Simple. It’s still one of the most effective ways of communicating with the people whom you’re trying to get to publicize your company or client.
I still take the trouble to nurture long-time relationships with journalists, for example, with occasional phone calls – just to say hello – rather than e-mails.
I know, I know…who the hell has time, these days, to actually make phone calls to the media, either to start a relationship or to nurture one? You could get out ten e-mails in the time it takes to speak with one journalist. But there’s one thing we should recognize: Public relations people who take the time to nurture these relationships, I believe, have an added edge to their “game.” And it’s still important, in our business, to develop and maintain good all-around communications skills.
It can actually serve to – believe it or not – to enhance your electronic communications. And it’s one of the best ways I know of to stay genuinely "connected."
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who still values face-to-face (or, at least, phone-to-phone) communication in business. And sometimes I feel like the guy holding the candle in the dark, yelling out forlornly, “Doesn’t anyone know that personal communication is still one of the most effective ways to practice public relations?”
I can still remember my discomfort at listening to a senior executive, several years ago, as he walked me around his company, bragging about their new “solutions.” "You don't even need human beings to do it!” he said happily. “There's no human interaction necessary!"
How sad, I remember thinking. Who, exactly, did he think invented this particular product or service or system (or “solution”)? Who did he suppose was going to market it? Who did he suppose was going to sell it? Who did he suppose was going to publicize it? And who did he suppose was going to buy it, and use it? Androids?
It's a crazy world out there, true; and many of us don't even have time to go to the bathroom, let alone actually nurture business relationships, by using more personal forms of communication. But it seems to me that this is still - perhaps more so than ever, since most of us don’t do it - one of the best ways of communicating. And keep in mind that communicating with our publics is one of the reasons we use the word “relationships.”
I like to think of myself as pretty well-attuned to – and generally pretty excited about – all the new and evolving ways of participating in electronic conversation. Yet, I can still fondly remember writing letters to out-of-state friends! As late as the nineties! With a pen and paper, not a computer! Why did I go to all that trouble? Simple. Because I knew the recipient would appreciate a hand-written letter more than they would an e-mail.
I still like to look into the eyes of the person with whom I’m communicating, if possible. When I was in the corporate world, I always made a point of actually walking to someone’s office when I wanted to talk to them, rather than sending an e-mail. If they were located elsewhere, I often made a point of calling them. Because you can pick up things – either in person or on the phone – that you just can’t pick up electronically. And, conversely, you can communicate things, either in person or on the phone, that you just can’t communicate electronically.
Why am I talking, in today’s blog, about more personal means of communication? Simple. It’s still one of the most effective ways of communicating with the people whom you’re trying to get to publicize your company or client.
I still take the trouble to nurture long-time relationships with journalists, for example, with occasional phone calls – just to say hello – rather than e-mails.
I know, I know…who the hell has time, these days, to actually make phone calls to the media, either to start a relationship or to nurture one? You could get out ten e-mails in the time it takes to speak with one journalist. But there’s one thing we should recognize: Public relations people who take the time to nurture these relationships, I believe, have an added edge to their “game.” And it’s still important, in our business, to develop and maintain good all-around communications skills.
It can actually serve to – believe it or not – to enhance your electronic communications. And it’s one of the best ways I know of to stay genuinely "connected."
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
