Saturday, December 26, 2009

MY NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS

For the year 2010, Resolved:

I will no longer insist on being innovative for clients who merely want the same old thing. (And, hopefully, I will no longer sign clients who want the same old thing.)

I will only give “bonus” hours to those clients who really appreciate them…and me.

I will continue to keep learning and keep thinking and keep discussing, in a constant endeavor to be the best that I can at my craft.

I will keep fighting for the integrity of the profession in which I’ve spent the past 21 years.

I will never stop asking “Why,” or “Why not?”

I will always remember that, in our profession – especially at the beginning of a relationship – listening is more important than talking.

I will always continue pushing for a “seat at the table” for PR professionals. And I will always continue to point out that, had we been given such a seat, some of the incredibly-stupid business mistakes of the past few years might never have occurred.

When I do my 6 a.m. run every morning, I will spend more time listening to the birds and the ducks all around me, instead of thinking.

I will spend more time listening to my daughters – 15 and 21 – and less time lecturing.

During our once-a-month disagreements, I will try harder to understand my wife’s point of view.

I will spend more time thinking about what I have, instead of what I want.

I won’t scream as loud at the TV when our beloved – but mediocre – Florida Panthers hockey team is playing.

I will spend less time watching college football. (OK, that one’s not quite true. Hey, you’ve got to allow me one or two broken resolutions!)

Happy New Year!

Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
www.winstoncommunications.com
steve@winstoncommunications.com
(954) 575-4089

Friday, December 18, 2009

HOW "EDITOR AND PUBLISHER" CHANGED MY LIFE

“Editor and Publisher” is, apparently, on its death-bed. And that makes me very sad. Because, in a sense, “Editor and Publisher” gave me everything I have…

I was sitting in my high-rise apartment in Hartford, CT. It was a gray, miserable late-winter day, shortly after a record-snowfall had tied the city up for days. And it was shortly after my brother in Philadelphia and I had vowed to get jobs in Florida (which he did within a week or two). As I looked out at the downtown skyline, I thumbed absent-mindedly through the latest edition of “Editor and Publisher.”

Suddenly I came upon a half-page ad…for The National Enquirer. (Yes, I know what you’re thinking.) They were looking for an Editor. The salary was outrageous to a young kid recently out of college - $52,000. And then I saw it. Right below the salary, was the address, “Lantana, FLORIDA.”

I quickly got out my atlas, and saw that Lantana was only about fifty miles north of Miami, where my brother was about to move.

I knew, of course, about the Enquirer’s reputation for sensationalism. But I figured, what the hell; for that salary and that location, I’ll send them a resume.

I did. And then I totally forgot about it. So, when they called a couple of weeks later, it took me a minute to even remember the ad. They wanted to fly me down for an interview.

A week later, I sat in a plane on the runway of Bradley International Airport, in the pre-dawn blackness, and watched the icy sleet pelt my window. A few hours later I walked out of the terminal at Palm Beach International Airport…and into 76 degrees and the bluest sky I’d ever seen.

At the end of the day, the folks at the Enquirer told me they wanted to fly me back here again in a few days, for a two-week getting-to-know-each-other period. And they would pay me at the rate of the advertised Editor's position - $1,000 a week. In addition, they’d take care of all my costs – transportation, food, lodging, etc.

I thought about it for perhaps .0000001 of a second, and then said sure.

When I came back the following week, they were very nice. But, by my very first morning of the two weeks, I had a feeling that the Enquirer and I were not made for each other…$52,000 or not. So, at lunchtime, I stopped in unannounced at the Palm Beach Post, and asked to see the Managing Editor. A month later I was in Florida (for a salary of $12,000).

That was thirty years ago. And that ad in “Editor and Publisher” ended up being responsible for everything I now hold dear in life. My two precious daughters. My first marriage, to their mother. My new wife. My career in journalism and then public relations. Friends who are family. The opportunity to do my 6 a.m. run outside, instead of on a treadmill…every day of the year. (And no more icy sleet when I get in a plane to go somewhere!)

It’s funny how the entire course of a life can turn around in one moment. And, in my case, all because of “Editor and Publisher.”

Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
www.winstoncommunications.com
steve@winstoncommunications.com
(954) 575-4089

Monday, December 7, 2009

I'M TIRED OF HEARING ABOUT TIGER!

Is anyone else sick of all this?

Is anyone else sick of our perverse – morose! – fascination with the rich and famous? Is anyone else – in a world of hunger and war and poverty and climate change and recession and failing schools – sick of seeing the same name in the headlines for two weeks (until another rich and famous person gets caught in the act)?

Is anyone else sick of wondering whether the media frenzy is fed by the public’s fascination, or whether the public’s fascination is fed by the media frenzy?

And is anyone else in our industry sick of hearing how Tiger Woods can use PR to rehabilitate himself?

That same night that Woods crashed his car, and Elin decided to play golf at 2:45 a.m., thousands of other cheating husbands (and wives) were discovered by their spouses, all across America. That same night, thousands of other couples across America were involved in domestic violence. Thousands of other families were broken apart by the revelations of outsiders. And thousands of other children saw the patterns of their family life snap, but didn’t understand how or why.

Why, then, this morbid fascination with the rich and famous in our society – especially when they screw up? Is it because, as some say, the common man (or woman) takes a secret thrill in seeing famous people brought down? Is it a class-hatred thing? Are we all just voyeurs? Or are we interested out of some sense of justice…because the Tiger Woods’ and the Eliot Spitzers and the A-Rods and the Mark Sanfords and the John Edwards’ of the world bit off more than they could (or should) chew? Or is it because the media doesn’t tell us about those thousands of other people caught cheating by their spouses every day?

I’ve seen Tiger’s house (the one in South Florida, anyway). His wife is beautiful. His daughter is precious. Why, when someone reaches his status in life, does it never seem to be enough? And why do we obsess over it?

Right now, his life is ruined. And he may never be able to put the private side of it back together.

But he needn’t worry all that much about the public side. He needn’t worry about whether effective public relations can rehabilitate his image. He needn’t worry about whether people will buy the products he’ll still be endorsing after the smoke clears. He needn’t worry that people will no longer want to see him play golf.

Because, as sure as I’m writing this and you’re reading it, within a couple of weeks, another celebrity will get caught…at something. Then we’ll obsess over that person. And Tiger will eventually become a distant memory.

I’m sick of hearing about Tiger!!