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!!
Showing posts with label effective public relations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label effective public relations. Show all posts
Monday, December 7, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
FLYING BY THE SEAT OF OUR PANTS
I fly by the seat of my pants. Literally.
I love to fly old World War II fighter planes, and to perform aeronautic “combat” maneuvers. I’m not the most experienced pilot. So, sometimes I find myself…flying by the seat of my pants.
Just about everyone in the public relations profession, in this brave new world, finds him/herself flying by the seat of their pants far more often than they’d like. In fact, there are a number of parallels…
The engine jumps to life, 600 ancient horses raring to go. I check the harnesses that feel like a ton on my torso, and I check the ripcord on my parachute.
I’m sitting in a sixty-four-year-old fighter plane from World War II, an AT-6, nicknamed “The Texan” by the cocky young pilots who flew her in combat. The “dashboard” is wood, and the cockpit instruments look like they’re out of a Humphrey Bogart movie. And I’m going to do some stunts, in tandem with Dennis Van Swol, the vastly-more experienced pilot who’s sitting behind me.
As we turn onto the runway, Dennis and I make our final check.
“Mixture is rich,” my headphones cackle as we converse back and forth. “Fuel-air ratio is good. Flaps are set. Pressure looks good...”
“The Texan departing on 8 right,” I call out to other air traffic on the radio. I open up the throttle and we gather speed. The nose is so high in these old planes that you can’t really see the runway. So, in effect, we take off and land by “touch.”
In a moment the ground is falling away, and the big yellow nose with the whirling propeller is pushing us up into a sea of blue. I pull up the landing gear.
As we climb, we begin dipping toward the right and then the left; the view becomes incredible. We head up toward puffy white clouds, and the ride turns bumpy.
“Now we’re going to do a few combat maneuvers,” Dennis says, “so you can get a feel for the aircraft.” With that he goes into a steep climb, and then a dive, and I try to imagine how it must have felt doing that with a Japanese Zero or German Messerschmitt trying to shoot you out of the sky. Then he turns the aircraft on its side, and we rip through the South Florida sky at a 180-degree angle.
Our headphones cackle with communications from all sorts of aircraft; North Palm Beach County Airport has no tower, so it’s up to the pilots to stay in touch with each other. Then we’re above the clouds, and suddenly it’s smooth.
“Now let’s do a roll,” he says. (A roll is a sideways somersault.)
Suddenly sky becomes land and land becomes sky, and clouds flash by as if on rollerblades. My head is below my body, and my hands are holding onto the balky control stick…from below it. We’re completely upside-down. Then we roll over to right ourselves.
Now it’s my turn to solo.
I hit the pedal on the extreme right of the wooden floor, forcing the nose down to gather up more speed. The ground seems to fly up toward me. Then I shove her into a climb. With the headphones cackling with Dennis’ voice and other traffic in the area, I grab the stick and pull it towards the right. And there we go…hurtling over the side at two hundred miles an hour. Again my head is suddenly under the rest of my body, with clouds flying by - below me.
I have to fight the stick a bit, as it’s difficult to hold her steady. Suddenly we’re rightside-up again. I ease up on the stick.
A minute later, I decide it’s time for a loop (backwards somersault).
I turn the nose down to pick up some speed. Then I yank it back up and climb straight up. This, by far, is the beginning of the most thrilling moment of the entire flight. A steep climb is murder on the body, and even more murderous on your mind. Normally, in an airplane, your fixed points are the land below you and the sky above and around you. Even though you’re up in the air, there’s a natural order of things, some physiological steering points. But when you’re in a steep climb, suddenly the land is gone, and you’re totally disoriented. Instead of a balance between land and sky, you’re heading straight up into an endless blue vacuum, with no horizon, no beginning, and no end.
I pull the stick toward me, and the old engine whines loudly. The ground disappears as we climb. Then I begin to flip her over, backwards. I feel my body pinned back against my seat, and my head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds (actually, in pilot-speak, I’m experiencing pressure of three “G’s). For a moment, I’m totally disoriented; I’ve lost any “compass point” in the sky or the land. I have no clear idea as to what’s “up” and what’s “down.” I literally cannot hold my head up, because of the pressure. I’m having trouble keeping my eyelids open. Upside-down images of blue and green and white are whooshing past me.
“Yee haw!” I shout out into the headphones, probably way too loudly for poor Dennis.
At that moment, it’s almost a test. You find yourself fighting for control…of the aircraft as well as yourself. And if you don’t remain calm, you’ll become ever more disoriented.
I hold her steady, fighting to keep the stick where it is. Finally, I see the ground floating up toward my face, and I begin to level her off.
“Want to try it again?” he asks.
“Yee haw!” I respond.
Again I point the nose down into a dive to get up some speed, and then pull back on the stick as I struggle to keep my eyes open from the pressure. Again we shoot up into a blue vacuum. Again we start rolling backwards and over our heads. And again I am upside-down, with colors and shapes and textures whooshing by underneath me, with the engines straining and the cockpit shaking. It almost seems like too much for the human brain to handle at once.
But when the land rolls back into view below us as we complete our circle, the feeling is one of incredible exhilaration.
As our radio cackles with transmissions from other aircraft in the area, Dennis says that it’s time to begin our descent. We go into a sideways roll – 180 degrees – and, as we pass through a cloud bank, we see a rainbow. I turn the controls back over to Dennis so I can look at it. We descend rapidly.
“North County Texan on its approach to 8 right,” I tell nearby air traffic.
We hit the runway. And as we slow down, I think of the pilot, sixty-four years ago, who sat in the seat where I’m sitting now.
So…how does this story relate to public relations? Well, the simplistic answer would be that we’re all, now, flying by the seat of our pants. But I think there are more practical correlations, as well…
* Always wear a parachute. And always check the ripcord. In PR terms, be prepared.
Make sure you have what you need in case of an emergency. And rehearse ahead of
time, in your mind, what you’ll do in case of emergency.
* If the ride’s a little bumpy, find a different altitude…think about what you can
do to make it smoother.
* Stay informed about the surrounding “traffic.” About your clients’ industries.
About their “flight plans. About their internal structures.
* Even when you feel like you’re flying upside-down, and things are whirling past
you at the speed of light, stay calm. And think clearly about your next step.
* Don’t be afraid to do loops and rolls…to experiment.
* When you lose your orientation – your “compass points” - don’t panic. Just find
some new ones.
* Sometimes things are not always obvious. So practice the art of taking off and
landing “by touch.”
* Don’t panic at the thought of flying by the seat of your pants. In our profession,
it’s becoming the norm.
And lastly, perhaps, when everyone around you seems to be losing their heads…shout out “Yee haw!” It’s going to be a very interesting ride.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
I love to fly old World War II fighter planes, and to perform aeronautic “combat” maneuvers. I’m not the most experienced pilot. So, sometimes I find myself…flying by the seat of my pants.
Just about everyone in the public relations profession, in this brave new world, finds him/herself flying by the seat of their pants far more often than they’d like. In fact, there are a number of parallels…
The engine jumps to life, 600 ancient horses raring to go. I check the harnesses that feel like a ton on my torso, and I check the ripcord on my parachute.
I’m sitting in a sixty-four-year-old fighter plane from World War II, an AT-6, nicknamed “The Texan” by the cocky young pilots who flew her in combat. The “dashboard” is wood, and the cockpit instruments look like they’re out of a Humphrey Bogart movie. And I’m going to do some stunts, in tandem with Dennis Van Swol, the vastly-more experienced pilot who’s sitting behind me.
As we turn onto the runway, Dennis and I make our final check.
“Mixture is rich,” my headphones cackle as we converse back and forth. “Fuel-air ratio is good. Flaps are set. Pressure looks good...”
“The Texan departing on 8 right,” I call out to other air traffic on the radio. I open up the throttle and we gather speed. The nose is so high in these old planes that you can’t really see the runway. So, in effect, we take off and land by “touch.”
In a moment the ground is falling away, and the big yellow nose with the whirling propeller is pushing us up into a sea of blue. I pull up the landing gear.
As we climb, we begin dipping toward the right and then the left; the view becomes incredible. We head up toward puffy white clouds, and the ride turns bumpy.
“Now we’re going to do a few combat maneuvers,” Dennis says, “so you can get a feel for the aircraft.” With that he goes into a steep climb, and then a dive, and I try to imagine how it must have felt doing that with a Japanese Zero or German Messerschmitt trying to shoot you out of the sky. Then he turns the aircraft on its side, and we rip through the South Florida sky at a 180-degree angle.
Our headphones cackle with communications from all sorts of aircraft; North Palm Beach County Airport has no tower, so it’s up to the pilots to stay in touch with each other. Then we’re above the clouds, and suddenly it’s smooth.
“Now let’s do a roll,” he says. (A roll is a sideways somersault.)
Suddenly sky becomes land and land becomes sky, and clouds flash by as if on rollerblades. My head is below my body, and my hands are holding onto the balky control stick…from below it. We’re completely upside-down. Then we roll over to right ourselves.
Now it’s my turn to solo.
I hit the pedal on the extreme right of the wooden floor, forcing the nose down to gather up more speed. The ground seems to fly up toward me. Then I shove her into a climb. With the headphones cackling with Dennis’ voice and other traffic in the area, I grab the stick and pull it towards the right. And there we go…hurtling over the side at two hundred miles an hour. Again my head is suddenly under the rest of my body, with clouds flying by - below me.
I have to fight the stick a bit, as it’s difficult to hold her steady. Suddenly we’re rightside-up again. I ease up on the stick.
A minute later, I decide it’s time for a loop (backwards somersault).
I turn the nose down to pick up some speed. Then I yank it back up and climb straight up. This, by far, is the beginning of the most thrilling moment of the entire flight. A steep climb is murder on the body, and even more murderous on your mind. Normally, in an airplane, your fixed points are the land below you and the sky above and around you. Even though you’re up in the air, there’s a natural order of things, some physiological steering points. But when you’re in a steep climb, suddenly the land is gone, and you’re totally disoriented. Instead of a balance between land and sky, you’re heading straight up into an endless blue vacuum, with no horizon, no beginning, and no end.
I pull the stick toward me, and the old engine whines loudly. The ground disappears as we climb. Then I begin to flip her over, backwards. I feel my body pinned back against my seat, and my head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds (actually, in pilot-speak, I’m experiencing pressure of three “G’s). For a moment, I’m totally disoriented; I’ve lost any “compass point” in the sky or the land. I have no clear idea as to what’s “up” and what’s “down.” I literally cannot hold my head up, because of the pressure. I’m having trouble keeping my eyelids open. Upside-down images of blue and green and white are whooshing past me.
“Yee haw!” I shout out into the headphones, probably way too loudly for poor Dennis.
At that moment, it’s almost a test. You find yourself fighting for control…of the aircraft as well as yourself. And if you don’t remain calm, you’ll become ever more disoriented.
I hold her steady, fighting to keep the stick where it is. Finally, I see the ground floating up toward my face, and I begin to level her off.
“Want to try it again?” he asks.
“Yee haw!” I respond.
Again I point the nose down into a dive to get up some speed, and then pull back on the stick as I struggle to keep my eyes open from the pressure. Again we shoot up into a blue vacuum. Again we start rolling backwards and over our heads. And again I am upside-down, with colors and shapes and textures whooshing by underneath me, with the engines straining and the cockpit shaking. It almost seems like too much for the human brain to handle at once.
But when the land rolls back into view below us as we complete our circle, the feeling is one of incredible exhilaration.
As our radio cackles with transmissions from other aircraft in the area, Dennis says that it’s time to begin our descent. We go into a sideways roll – 180 degrees – and, as we pass through a cloud bank, we see a rainbow. I turn the controls back over to Dennis so I can look at it. We descend rapidly.
“North County Texan on its approach to 8 right,” I tell nearby air traffic.
We hit the runway. And as we slow down, I think of the pilot, sixty-four years ago, who sat in the seat where I’m sitting now.
So…how does this story relate to public relations? Well, the simplistic answer would be that we’re all, now, flying by the seat of our pants. But I think there are more practical correlations, as well…
* Always wear a parachute. And always check the ripcord. In PR terms, be prepared.
Make sure you have what you need in case of an emergency. And rehearse ahead of
time, in your mind, what you’ll do in case of emergency.
* If the ride’s a little bumpy, find a different altitude…think about what you can
do to make it smoother.
* Stay informed about the surrounding “traffic.” About your clients’ industries.
About their “flight plans. About their internal structures.
* Even when you feel like you’re flying upside-down, and things are whirling past
you at the speed of light, stay calm. And think clearly about your next step.
* Don’t be afraid to do loops and rolls…to experiment.
* When you lose your orientation – your “compass points” - don’t panic. Just find
some new ones.
* Sometimes things are not always obvious. So practice the art of taking off and
landing “by touch.”
* Don’t panic at the thought of flying by the seat of your pants. In our profession,
it’s becoming the norm.
And lastly, perhaps, when everyone around you seems to be losing their heads…shout out “Yee haw!” It’s going to be a very interesting ride.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
HAVE A SAFE TRIP
“Have a safe trip,” my daughter said.
We had been talking on the phone for about fifteen minutes. I had mentioned to my daughter, a senior at the University of Florida, that I was leaving in the morning on a business trip to Texas. And, as we ended the conversation, she said, “Have a safe trip.”
And I realized that it was about the twentieth time I had heard that phrase in the previous few days…basically, whenever I had mentioned to a client or an associate or a friend that I had to go to Texas on business. It’s not like I’m not familiar with the inside of an airplane. I was just in North Carolina a few weeks prior to this trip. I have to go to New York next week. And then, a few weeks later, back to Texas.
But, for some reason, this time, whenever anyone said, “Have a safe trip,” it really hit me. Of course, we never said that to each other prior to 9/11. My Dad spent the better part of his life on planes – he was a member of the million-mile club way back in the sixties, when that really meant something. But I don’t remember ever telling him, “Have a safe trip.” I think we probably just assumed he would.
Last week, every time I e-mailed someone that I’d be out of the office for a few days, a short reply would come back: “Have a safe trip.” One guy even responded, “Have a safe trip. After all, you know those Texans…”
Of course, there are other ways to die on a plane without being hijacked by terrorists. A few years ago, a co-pilot for a Middle Eastern airline decided to commit suicide by crashing the plane – and its few hundred passengers - into the Atlantic Ocean. And right after 9/11 – if the speculation is correct – the crash of another airliner was caused by a rocket fired by our own jittery military.
At heart, I appreciated the good wishes, of course. But – every time they said those four words - they made me think about something I really didn’t want to think about. And what did that guy mean, anyway, when he referred to “those Texans?”
For those of us in this profession, our “trip,” recently, has often been somewhat turbulent. The “vehicles” that take us on these trips seem to be changing right before our eyes, and at warp-speed. Sometimes things even seem somewhat out of control. And I believe that this has become a permanent feature of our (and many others’) profession. Nothing will ever be the same. And nothing will ever stay the same.
All we can do, I suppose, is just hope for a safe trip.
We had been talking on the phone for about fifteen minutes. I had mentioned to my daughter, a senior at the University of Florida, that I was leaving in the morning on a business trip to Texas. And, as we ended the conversation, she said, “Have a safe trip.”
And I realized that it was about the twentieth time I had heard that phrase in the previous few days…basically, whenever I had mentioned to a client or an associate or a friend that I had to go to Texas on business. It’s not like I’m not familiar with the inside of an airplane. I was just in North Carolina a few weeks prior to this trip. I have to go to New York next week. And then, a few weeks later, back to Texas.
But, for some reason, this time, whenever anyone said, “Have a safe trip,” it really hit me. Of course, we never said that to each other prior to 9/11. My Dad spent the better part of his life on planes – he was a member of the million-mile club way back in the sixties, when that really meant something. But I don’t remember ever telling him, “Have a safe trip.” I think we probably just assumed he would.
Last week, every time I e-mailed someone that I’d be out of the office for a few days, a short reply would come back: “Have a safe trip.” One guy even responded, “Have a safe trip. After all, you know those Texans…”
Of course, there are other ways to die on a plane without being hijacked by terrorists. A few years ago, a co-pilot for a Middle Eastern airline decided to commit suicide by crashing the plane – and its few hundred passengers - into the Atlantic Ocean. And right after 9/11 – if the speculation is correct – the crash of another airliner was caused by a rocket fired by our own jittery military.
At heart, I appreciated the good wishes, of course. But – every time they said those four words - they made me think about something I really didn’t want to think about. And what did that guy mean, anyway, when he referred to “those Texans?”
For those of us in this profession, our “trip,” recently, has often been somewhat turbulent. The “vehicles” that take us on these trips seem to be changing right before our eyes, and at warp-speed. Sometimes things even seem somewhat out of control. And I believe that this has become a permanent feature of our (and many others’) profession. Nothing will ever be the same. And nothing will ever stay the same.
All we can do, I suppose, is just hope for a safe trip.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
THE UNDYING ART OF STORY-TELLING
Traditional mediums of communication are dying – or, at the very least, on the critical list - all around us. But there’s one form of communication that must be preserved at all costs – the art of telling a story. After all, isn’t that, in a very real sense, what we do for our clients, or for our companies? We’re communicators…and the essence of good communication is knowing how to tell a good story.
The best communicators know that this is still essential to the practice of public relations. And they’re constantly honing their ability to tell stories. Compelling stories. Provocative stories. Stories that move us emotionally. Stories that spark a need (or a want). And stories that can make us act on this need or want.
The media platforms upon which we tell our stories may be morphing even as we speak. But stories - well-told, engaging stories - are still the best means of generating action (or satisfaction) by our publics, or by our customers. And companies that are unsuccessful at telling their stories eventually end up in that proverbial “dusts-bin of history.”
People will always want to hear about other people, and what makes them act the ways in which they do. It stands to reason, then, that the best way to sell products or services - or ideas - is to tell stories, often about people. It may be about how people can benefit from a certain product. How they can join a certain cause. How they can find out more about a certain idea. Or, simply, how they overcame an obstacle in life (and, truth be told, it wouldn’t hurt if they overcame this obstacle with the aid of your company’s or your client’s product or service!). But, whatever the goal, if you use good stories, you've got a better chance to achieve it.
Marketers and PR people (all the emerging technologies notwithstanding) should take note. Stories - stories with which the target audience can identify and benefit from - are the best way to generate trust on the part of that audience. And trust is the best way to generate action. Period!!
And we ignore that fact at our peril.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
The best communicators know that this is still essential to the practice of public relations. And they’re constantly honing their ability to tell stories. Compelling stories. Provocative stories. Stories that move us emotionally. Stories that spark a need (or a want). And stories that can make us act on this need or want.
The media platforms upon which we tell our stories may be morphing even as we speak. But stories - well-told, engaging stories - are still the best means of generating action (or satisfaction) by our publics, or by our customers. And companies that are unsuccessful at telling their stories eventually end up in that proverbial “dusts-bin of history.”
People will always want to hear about other people, and what makes them act the ways in which they do. It stands to reason, then, that the best way to sell products or services - or ideas - is to tell stories, often about people. It may be about how people can benefit from a certain product. How they can join a certain cause. How they can find out more about a certain idea. Or, simply, how they overcame an obstacle in life (and, truth be told, it wouldn’t hurt if they overcame this obstacle with the aid of your company’s or your client’s product or service!). But, whatever the goal, if you use good stories, you've got a better chance to achieve it.
Marketers and PR people (all the emerging technologies notwithstanding) should take note. Stories - stories with which the target audience can identify and benefit from - are the best way to generate trust on the part of that audience. And trust is the best way to generate action. Period!!
And we ignore that fact at our peril.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
Saturday, September 19, 2009
HOW TO SEND SPAM
If you haven’t yet read “The New Rules of Marketing & PR, by David Meerman Scott, you should. One of his chapter-headings is “Non-Targeted, Broadcast Pitches are Spam.”
A pretty wide definition. But I couldn’t agree more. Very few things about this industry make me as mad as these so-called “pitches.” They show absolutely no respect for the writers/editors at which they’re aimed. Think about it: In how many other industries can you expect to “make the sale” after blatantly disrespecting the person to whom you’re selling? This practice is the biggest reason why so many journalists don’t respect us (to put it mildly!).
I started out as a journalist. I grew up in a newsroom. I was a newspaper reporter. And then a magazine editor. And I can’t even begin to estimate the thousands of releases I’ve tossed or deleted because I could see instantly that they had been sent to a thousand other journalists, as well. I could see without even opening them that they were not targeted specifically to my demographics or my beat or my magazines. They were just tossed blindly against as many walls as the tosser could think of, in the hope that maybe a few of them might – just possibly – stick.
I can tell you, though, that, with most journalists who receive these blind pitches, the only thing that sticks is a lifelong distain for public relations people.
I'm forever trying to educate clients that their "great" story is great only if it offers the readers (who are, after all, the end-users) actionable advice that can help make their lives or their businesses 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.
More than ever, coverage in the appropriate niche is worth much more than coverage in scattered media that are of no value to your clients' businesses. Ideally, clients would be more open to understanding this. But it's not their fault.
The real fault, actually, lies with the agencies and the corporate PR practitioners who have a golden opportunity to educate their clients (or senior management), and don't do it. As long as PR people are willing to practice this approach, some clients will think it's best.
I'm still waiting for the day when the quantity of pitches matters less than the quality of the resulting media coverage.
In other words...when output matters less than results.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
A pretty wide definition. But I couldn’t agree more. Very few things about this industry make me as mad as these so-called “pitches.” They show absolutely no respect for the writers/editors at which they’re aimed. Think about it: In how many other industries can you expect to “make the sale” after blatantly disrespecting the person to whom you’re selling? This practice is the biggest reason why so many journalists don’t respect us (to put it mildly!).
I started out as a journalist. I grew up in a newsroom. I was a newspaper reporter. And then a magazine editor. And I can’t even begin to estimate the thousands of releases I’ve tossed or deleted because I could see instantly that they had been sent to a thousand other journalists, as well. I could see without even opening them that they were not targeted specifically to my demographics or my beat or my magazines. They were just tossed blindly against as many walls as the tosser could think of, in the hope that maybe a few of them might – just possibly – stick.
I can tell you, though, that, with most journalists who receive these blind pitches, the only thing that sticks is a lifelong distain for public relations people.
I'm forever trying to educate clients that their "great" story is great only if it offers the readers (who are, after all, the end-users) actionable advice that can help make their lives or their businesses 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.
More than ever, coverage in the appropriate niche is worth much more than coverage in scattered media that are of no value to your clients' businesses. Ideally, clients would be more open to understanding this. But it's not their fault.
The real fault, actually, lies with the agencies and the corporate PR practitioners who have a golden opportunity to educate their clients (or senior management), and don't do it. As long as PR people are willing to practice this approach, some clients will think it's best.
I'm still waiting for the day when the quantity of pitches matters less than the quality of the resulting media coverage.
In other words...when output matters less than results.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
VIRAL PR: EXHIBIT A
If you don’t think one person can make a difference, you should see what’s going on at City Place.
City Place is an upscale, downtown retail/dining/housing complex in the city of West Palm Beach, FL. It’s a great place to spend a day (even if you can’t afford to buy anything). You can wander around the finest names in clothing, kitchenware, home-design, furnishings, etc. You can be mesmerized by the street performers. You can eat at imaginative sidewalk cafes, graze at one of the trendy watering holes, or enjoy gelato or fine chocolates on the plaza. It’s all in a fashionable urban setting that really helped revitalize the city a decade or so ago.
City Place has made the news lately, though, for all the wrong reasons. They forgot two central lessons of the Digital Age.
It seems that the complex recently told its employees – who had been parking in a lot near their stores – that their parking area was being moved a few blocks away, to make more room for customers. In addition, rather than the $10 a year they had been paying for parking, they would now be charged $50 a month for the privilege of being moved a few blocks away – for spots that City Place would only have to pay the City of West Palm Beach $20 a month for. Apparently, the shopping complex had discovered a potential new revenue stream – its own employees.
Well, the employees didn’t take it sitting down. Except for one. He sat down at his computer, and posted the news on several blogs. Within a day or two, the Palm Beach Post and local TV and radio stations picked up the story.
Soon, employees began picketing in front of the complex, and West Palm Beach’s smart-set was faced with the prospect of crossing picket lines to get inside. And the employees appeared before a meeting of the City Commission.
Don’t get me wrong. I love City Place. I love going there with my wife and daughter to wander around the beautiful old urban buildings and the fancy new shops and bistros and fountains and tables with umbrellas. To tell you the truth, I love it even though I rarely buy anything there (other than lunch and some ice cream).
But, from a public relations viewpoint, I think City Place has probably learned two good lessons for the Digital Age.
The First: Your employees are your lifeblood – even more so, in some ways, than your customers. Because if your employees are unhappy…your customers will know about it very soon.
And, Second: In this New Age, bad news doesn’t just travel fast. It travels at the speed of light.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
City Place is an upscale, downtown retail/dining/housing complex in the city of West Palm Beach, FL. It’s a great place to spend a day (even if you can’t afford to buy anything). You can wander around the finest names in clothing, kitchenware, home-design, furnishings, etc. You can be mesmerized by the street performers. You can eat at imaginative sidewalk cafes, graze at one of the trendy watering holes, or enjoy gelato or fine chocolates on the plaza. It’s all in a fashionable urban setting that really helped revitalize the city a decade or so ago.
City Place has made the news lately, though, for all the wrong reasons. They forgot two central lessons of the Digital Age.
It seems that the complex recently told its employees – who had been parking in a lot near their stores – that their parking area was being moved a few blocks away, to make more room for customers. In addition, rather than the $10 a year they had been paying for parking, they would now be charged $50 a month for the privilege of being moved a few blocks away – for spots that City Place would only have to pay the City of West Palm Beach $20 a month for. Apparently, the shopping complex had discovered a potential new revenue stream – its own employees.
Well, the employees didn’t take it sitting down. Except for one. He sat down at his computer, and posted the news on several blogs. Within a day or two, the Palm Beach Post and local TV and radio stations picked up the story.
Soon, employees began picketing in front of the complex, and West Palm Beach’s smart-set was faced with the prospect of crossing picket lines to get inside. And the employees appeared before a meeting of the City Commission.
Don’t get me wrong. I love City Place. I love going there with my wife and daughter to wander around the beautiful old urban buildings and the fancy new shops and bistros and fountains and tables with umbrellas. To tell you the truth, I love it even though I rarely buy anything there (other than lunch and some ice cream).
But, from a public relations viewpoint, I think City Place has probably learned two good lessons for the Digital Age.
The First: Your employees are your lifeblood – even more so, in some ways, than your customers. Because if your employees are unhappy…your customers will know about it very soon.
And, Second: In this New Age, bad news doesn’t just travel fast. It travels at the speed of light.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
Friday, September 4, 2009
CAN PR SAVE THE MEETINGS INDUSTRY?
CAN PR SAVE THE MEETINGS INDUSTRY?
Perhaps nowhere has the “AIG Effect” been as pronounced – or as toxic – as in the corporate-meetings industry.
Consider, for a moment, the devastation caused by the cancellations of thousands of meetings across the country, by companies afraid their meetings would be perceived as “excessive,” even if all they were doing was…meeting. The effects on the travel, tourism, convention, hotel, rental car, airline, attractions, advertising, and restaurant industries have been crushing.
The drip-down effect is more immense than we can even imagine. It’s affected part-time dishwashers as well as airline pilots, convention-center janitorial staff as well as presidents of convention & visitors bureaus, rental-car ticket agents as well as busboys, taxi drivers as well as catering companies. It has caused hundreds of thousands – perhaps even millions – of people to lose their jobs. It has resulted in extraordinary strains on state budgets, because of unemployment claims. It has resulted in crises for city and local budgets, because of the diminished “bed” and “hotel” taxes.
For companies and organizations, bringing your people together to discuss ideas, network, address company-wide issues, or just reward good work, is essential – especially if they want to encourage information-exchange and best-practices. As a person who spent most of his life in the corporate world, I can tell you that I always emerged from those events with a new sense of energy and purpose, with new connections (and advocates) throughout the company, with a new understanding of what other people in the company did, and with a sense that I was not “alone”…that I was part of a real team.
So what can we do to help? We specialize in shaping – and changing – perceptions of value. Is there anything we can do to help the meetings industry? (And, in the process, our own business?)
Ben Stein, for one, says yes. You know Ben Stein. He’s played the middle-aged, personality-challenged professor or insurance agent or psychologist in a number of movies, with his thick glasses and his droning monotone. He’s also, however, a respected economist, speaker, and author.
“Are the meetings of Congress a waste?” he writes in his blog in “The American Spectator.” “They are business meetings. Are the meetings of the Supreme Court wasteful? They are business meetings.”
Addressing the misperceptions about meetings in “resorts” such as Las Vegas, he writes, “As to meetings in resorts, the reason to have them is that there are a lot of rooms close to each other with good ways to get together. Often, as in Las Vegas, rooms are inexpensive. Traffic jams and people getting lost do not happen because everyone is under the same roof."
I’ve spoken with a couple of “expert witnesses” over the past few days. And they both agree that this is one area in which public relations can really show off its ability to use facts to change harmful misperceptions.
Jaki Baskow is Owner/CEO of Baskow &Associates, a well-known destination management company in Las Vegas (destination management companies help meeting planners with arrangements for every aspect of their meetings). And because of where she’s located, she’s had a front-row seat on the meltdown of the corporate meeting.
“PR can definitely help save the meetings industry,” Baskow says. “In fact, we need it to help save the meetings industry. There’s just so much at stake. PR can help spearhead the positive message to America. It can keep reminding corporate America that cancelling meetings can cost them profits in the long run. And it can keep reminding the rest of America that meetings help make people more motivated and more productive.”
In actuality, the meetings infrastructure has begun taking some steps to prove its value. On websites such as www.keepamericameeting.com and www.meetingsmeanbusiness.com, people can read about how important meetings are to the American economy. In addition, many cities (and many resorts) now have their own websites dedicated to meetings, with practical information countering the popular misperceptions.
Roberta Guise, President of Guise Marketing & Public Relations, is also located in a popular meeting destination – San Francisco. She’s seen first-hand the devastation caused by innuendo and misperception. And she agrees that PR should be an active agent of change in addressing those misperceptions.
“There are some very practical steps that PR professionals can take,” Guise says. “You can try to get meetings-related stories in your local media, with information about how such meetings help the local economy. You can write letters to the Editors – or Op-Eds – about how meetings are vital to the local economy. You can sign the petition at www.keepamericameeting.com or at www.meetingsmeanbusiness.com. to send the same message to legislators.
“And we can always keep in mind, ourselves, the new rules - that our emphasis on the meetings we publicize should be on value and learning, rather than on flash and hype.”
In my own experience with clients in this industry, I’ve come to see that the “value” meetings bring to a local community is often more than economic. Many companies, for example, donate unused food to local food banks and homeless shelters. Many donate floral arrangements to local senior centers. And I know of one company that always joins Habitat For Humanity to build houses in the cities where it meets.
Jaki Baskow says that companies are finally starting to be more proactive themselves abut their meetings.
“They’re starting to use PR to let the world know they’re still doing business as usual. I’ve spoken to many companies around the country that are still booking great venues, still holding their meetings. And they’re still doing incentive meetings to reward productivity…but they’re doing them in a smaller way.”
Think locally for a moment. Think about a corporate meeting of, say, five-hundred or a thousand people in your community. Translate the economic benefits of that one meeting. And then multiply that figure by a hundred…or, if you’re in a big meetings-destination city, by a thousand. The figures are staggering, aren’t they?
“We can play an active part in getting a vital segment of the American economy back on its feet again,” Roberta Guise says.
And, in so doing, I might add, helping to address misperceptions about our own value.
Perhaps nowhere has the “AIG Effect” been as pronounced – or as toxic – as in the corporate-meetings industry.
Consider, for a moment, the devastation caused by the cancellations of thousands of meetings across the country, by companies afraid their meetings would be perceived as “excessive,” even if all they were doing was…meeting. The effects on the travel, tourism, convention, hotel, rental car, airline, attractions, advertising, and restaurant industries have been crushing.
The drip-down effect is more immense than we can even imagine. It’s affected part-time dishwashers as well as airline pilots, convention-center janitorial staff as well as presidents of convention & visitors bureaus, rental-car ticket agents as well as busboys, taxi drivers as well as catering companies. It has caused hundreds of thousands – perhaps even millions – of people to lose their jobs. It has resulted in extraordinary strains on state budgets, because of unemployment claims. It has resulted in crises for city and local budgets, because of the diminished “bed” and “hotel” taxes.
For companies and organizations, bringing your people together to discuss ideas, network, address company-wide issues, or just reward good work, is essential – especially if they want to encourage information-exchange and best-practices. As a person who spent most of his life in the corporate world, I can tell you that I always emerged from those events with a new sense of energy and purpose, with new connections (and advocates) throughout the company, with a new understanding of what other people in the company did, and with a sense that I was not “alone”…that I was part of a real team.
So what can we do to help? We specialize in shaping – and changing – perceptions of value. Is there anything we can do to help the meetings industry? (And, in the process, our own business?)
Ben Stein, for one, says yes. You know Ben Stein. He’s played the middle-aged, personality-challenged professor or insurance agent or psychologist in a number of movies, with his thick glasses and his droning monotone. He’s also, however, a respected economist, speaker, and author.
“Are the meetings of Congress a waste?” he writes in his blog in “The American Spectator.” “They are business meetings. Are the meetings of the Supreme Court wasteful? They are business meetings.”
Addressing the misperceptions about meetings in “resorts” such as Las Vegas, he writes, “As to meetings in resorts, the reason to have them is that there are a lot of rooms close to each other with good ways to get together. Often, as in Las Vegas, rooms are inexpensive. Traffic jams and people getting lost do not happen because everyone is under the same roof."
I’ve spoken with a couple of “expert witnesses” over the past few days. And they both agree that this is one area in which public relations can really show off its ability to use facts to change harmful misperceptions.
Jaki Baskow is Owner/CEO of Baskow &Associates, a well-known destination management company in Las Vegas (destination management companies help meeting planners with arrangements for every aspect of their meetings). And because of where she’s located, she’s had a front-row seat on the meltdown of the corporate meeting.
“PR can definitely help save the meetings industry,” Baskow says. “In fact, we need it to help save the meetings industry. There’s just so much at stake. PR can help spearhead the positive message to America. It can keep reminding corporate America that cancelling meetings can cost them profits in the long run. And it can keep reminding the rest of America that meetings help make people more motivated and more productive.”
In actuality, the meetings infrastructure has begun taking some steps to prove its value. On websites such as www.keepamericameeting.com and www.meetingsmeanbusiness.com, people can read about how important meetings are to the American economy. In addition, many cities (and many resorts) now have their own websites dedicated to meetings, with practical information countering the popular misperceptions.
Roberta Guise, President of Guise Marketing & Public Relations, is also located in a popular meeting destination – San Francisco. She’s seen first-hand the devastation caused by innuendo and misperception. And she agrees that PR should be an active agent of change in addressing those misperceptions.
“There are some very practical steps that PR professionals can take,” Guise says. “You can try to get meetings-related stories in your local media, with information about how such meetings help the local economy. You can write letters to the Editors – or Op-Eds – about how meetings are vital to the local economy. You can sign the petition at www.keepamericameeting.com or at www.meetingsmeanbusiness.com. to send the same message to legislators.
“And we can always keep in mind, ourselves, the new rules - that our emphasis on the meetings we publicize should be on value and learning, rather than on flash and hype.”
In my own experience with clients in this industry, I’ve come to see that the “value” meetings bring to a local community is often more than economic. Many companies, for example, donate unused food to local food banks and homeless shelters. Many donate floral arrangements to local senior centers. And I know of one company that always joins Habitat For Humanity to build houses in the cities where it meets.
Jaki Baskow says that companies are finally starting to be more proactive themselves abut their meetings.
“They’re starting to use PR to let the world know they’re still doing business as usual. I’ve spoken to many companies around the country that are still booking great venues, still holding their meetings. And they’re still doing incentive meetings to reward productivity…but they’re doing them in a smaller way.”
Think locally for a moment. Think about a corporate meeting of, say, five-hundred or a thousand people in your community. Translate the economic benefits of that one meeting. And then multiply that figure by a hundred…or, if you’re in a big meetings-destination city, by a thousand. The figures are staggering, aren’t they?
“We can play an active part in getting a vital segment of the American economy back on its feet again,” Roberta Guise says.
And, in so doing, I might add, helping to address misperceptions about our own value.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
I'M MAD AS HELL!
I’m mad as hell…and I’m not going to take it anymore!
If you can remember who said those words, you’re not a kid anymore. (It was Peter Finch, in the classic seventies movie, “Network.”) As I recall, Finch’s character was fed up with humanity, fed up with network news, fed up with plastic people (and “entertainment” news approaches), etc., etc. So – if I recall correctly – he went over to a window in the high-rise where his station was headquartered, and bellowed out that famous cry at the top of his lungs.
It’s thirty years later. But I have to admit that sometimes I’m so fed up with some of the practices in my own profession that I feel like doing the same thing Peter Finch did. (Except that today, we’re assaulted by such a constant cacophony of noise that probably no one would hear me yelling.)
I, obviously, meet a lot of PR people, from new graduates to old veterans. The new graduates can be forgiven their ignorance about what constitutes effective PR; they’ve never had the chance to see for themselves. But I have a hard-time dealing with veteran PR people who still cling to the old, outdated ways…basically, old-time release-mongers. And, unfortunately, these dinosaurs are often the ones lecturing the new graduates on the “real world.”
I have a lot of Public Relations “Principles” (too many, say some of the people whom I constantly bombard with them!) And, even though the technology, the marketing environment, etc, have changed, these ten constants, I believe, haven’t:
1) Target your pitches! No shotgun approaches!
2) If you want to piss off a journalist (who, these days, is probably doing the job of three people), send him a proposal totally unrelated to his beat.
3) LEARN HOW TO WRITE! LEARN HOW TO WRITE! LEARN HOW TO WRITE!
4) Next step: Learn how to write effective business communications...which is a lot different than just learning how to write.
5) Learn the concept of a pitch (strategy, tactic, campaign, etc.) that benefits the person to whom you're pitching as well as your client (internal or external).
6) Effective public "relations" is all about establishing relationships. And nurturing them.
7) Read...everything!
8) Become a resource for the media...not only a pitchman.
9) Realize that your client's (or company's) story may seem "great" to them...but that it might not seem that way to the media. And - this is a huge challenge, I know - try to get them to understand that.
10) Try to get your client (or company) to understand that effective public relations takes a long-term approach, not a short-term, shotgun, toss-mud-against-the-wall-and-see-how-much-of-it-sticks approach.
I could go on and on...but (no cheers, folks!) I'll stop here. But I'll add one thing...and this last “constant” is liable to piss off some of the old-school folks: TELL THE TRUTH!!! One story that results from telling the truth is better than ten that result from a lie. Because, sooner or later, the lie will catch up with the company or the client on whose behalf you’re telling the story. And then it will catch up to you.
And, when that happens, it’s the equivalent of going to the window and throwing it open. With one difference - professionally, you may as well jump.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
If you can remember who said those words, you’re not a kid anymore. (It was Peter Finch, in the classic seventies movie, “Network.”) As I recall, Finch’s character was fed up with humanity, fed up with network news, fed up with plastic people (and “entertainment” news approaches), etc., etc. So – if I recall correctly – he went over to a window in the high-rise where his station was headquartered, and bellowed out that famous cry at the top of his lungs.
It’s thirty years later. But I have to admit that sometimes I’m so fed up with some of the practices in my own profession that I feel like doing the same thing Peter Finch did. (Except that today, we’re assaulted by such a constant cacophony of noise that probably no one would hear me yelling.)
I, obviously, meet a lot of PR people, from new graduates to old veterans. The new graduates can be forgiven their ignorance about what constitutes effective PR; they’ve never had the chance to see for themselves. But I have a hard-time dealing with veteran PR people who still cling to the old, outdated ways…basically, old-time release-mongers. And, unfortunately, these dinosaurs are often the ones lecturing the new graduates on the “real world.”
I have a lot of Public Relations “Principles” (too many, say some of the people whom I constantly bombard with them!) And, even though the technology, the marketing environment, etc, have changed, these ten constants, I believe, haven’t:
1) Target your pitches! No shotgun approaches!
2) If you want to piss off a journalist (who, these days, is probably doing the job of three people), send him a proposal totally unrelated to his beat.
3) LEARN HOW TO WRITE! LEARN HOW TO WRITE! LEARN HOW TO WRITE!
4) Next step: Learn how to write effective business communications...which is a lot different than just learning how to write.
5) Learn the concept of a pitch (strategy, tactic, campaign, etc.) that benefits the person to whom you're pitching as well as your client (internal or external).
6) Effective public "relations" is all about establishing relationships. And nurturing them.
7) Read...everything!
8) Become a resource for the media...not only a pitchman.
9) Realize that your client's (or company's) story may seem "great" to them...but that it might not seem that way to the media. And - this is a huge challenge, I know - try to get them to understand that.
10) Try to get your client (or company) to understand that effective public relations takes a long-term approach, not a short-term, shotgun, toss-mud-against-the-wall-and-see-how-much-of-it-sticks approach.
I could go on and on...but (no cheers, folks!) I'll stop here. But I'll add one thing...and this last “constant” is liable to piss off some of the old-school folks: TELL THE TRUTH!!! One story that results from telling the truth is better than ten that result from a lie. Because, sooner or later, the lie will catch up with the company or the client on whose behalf you’re telling the story. And then it will catch up to you.
And, when that happens, it’s the equivalent of going to the window and throwing it open. With one difference - professionally, you may as well jump.
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
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
THE DEATH THROES OF PRINT MEDIA
THE DEATH THROES OF PRINT MEDIA
Steve Winston
I'm on the Web all day long...from 6:15 a.m., when I first sit down to check the e-mail before my morning run, until midnight. And I do get most of my information - both professional and personal - from the Web.
Yet, nonetheless, I'm one of those people who have been mourning the apparent death of the print magazine (and newspaper, and book). And I’ll tell you why…
For one thing, I have serious doubts as to whether the Web will ever be able to apply the same rigorous standards of journalism and objective analysis at which print media (for the most part) have excelled. And I have doubts, as well, that the Web – around which people move with incredible frequency - will ever be able to provide the longer "think-pieces" at which so many newspapers and magazines have excelled.
For me, reading has always been a sensory experience. I still really love reading the paper while I (gulp down) my breakfast (especially if the Florida Marlins have won the night before!). I really get excited when one of the magazines to which I subscribe arrives in the mail; and I really enjoy the feel of the pages on my fingers when I read it. Also, I have an appreciation for great photography as an art-form…and I’m more prone to really explore a magnificent photo in print form that I am on the Web. I really enjoy, as well, the fact that a print piece offers me a medium with no distractions...it doesn't ring, or blink on the screen, every time I get an e-mail (tempting me to leave what I'm reading).
Newspapers have also been a physical chronicler of history in ways that electronic media cannot. For example, I was still a boy when Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy were assassinated, and when men first walked on the moon. But I can still recall the giant headlines in Newsday the next morning(s). In fact, I remember actually saving the front page after momentous events that I thought would be of historical significance. Sometimes I wish I still had that old scrapbook. What incredible memories of time and place and emotion it would strike!
I think of myself as an early-adapter. Yet, I don’t really know how easy it will be for me to adapt to books on the Web. To me, there's nothing that says "this is my time to relax and escape" like settling down on a thick couch with a good book - in my hands, rather than on a screen.
So, although I spend most of my life online – and couldn’t make a living as a public relations practitioner without the ease (and instantaneous nature) of electronic information and communication - I'm still somewhat emotional about the place of print media in American democracy. I'm hopeful that at least some of the more “important” newspapers and magazines of our day will survive the shakeout.
And I’m hopeful, as well, that at least some print publications that had been written off as dead may not need obituaries, after all.
Otherwise, I’m afraid we’ll find out - too late - that a valuable piece of who we are has been lost.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
Steve Winston
I'm on the Web all day long...from 6:15 a.m., when I first sit down to check the e-mail before my morning run, until midnight. And I do get most of my information - both professional and personal - from the Web.
Yet, nonetheless, I'm one of those people who have been mourning the apparent death of the print magazine (and newspaper, and book). And I’ll tell you why…
For one thing, I have serious doubts as to whether the Web will ever be able to apply the same rigorous standards of journalism and objective analysis at which print media (for the most part) have excelled. And I have doubts, as well, that the Web – around which people move with incredible frequency - will ever be able to provide the longer "think-pieces" at which so many newspapers and magazines have excelled.
For me, reading has always been a sensory experience. I still really love reading the paper while I (gulp down) my breakfast (especially if the Florida Marlins have won the night before!). I really get excited when one of the magazines to which I subscribe arrives in the mail; and I really enjoy the feel of the pages on my fingers when I read it. Also, I have an appreciation for great photography as an art-form…and I’m more prone to really explore a magnificent photo in print form that I am on the Web. I really enjoy, as well, the fact that a print piece offers me a medium with no distractions...it doesn't ring, or blink on the screen, every time I get an e-mail (tempting me to leave what I'm reading).
Newspapers have also been a physical chronicler of history in ways that electronic media cannot. For example, I was still a boy when Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy were assassinated, and when men first walked on the moon. But I can still recall the giant headlines in Newsday the next morning(s). In fact, I remember actually saving the front page after momentous events that I thought would be of historical significance. Sometimes I wish I still had that old scrapbook. What incredible memories of time and place and emotion it would strike!
I think of myself as an early-adapter. Yet, I don’t really know how easy it will be for me to adapt to books on the Web. To me, there's nothing that says "this is my time to relax and escape" like settling down on a thick couch with a good book - in my hands, rather than on a screen.
So, although I spend most of my life online – and couldn’t make a living as a public relations practitioner without the ease (and instantaneous nature) of electronic information and communication - I'm still somewhat emotional about the place of print media in American democracy. I'm hopeful that at least some of the more “important” newspapers and magazines of our day will survive the shakeout.
And I’m hopeful, as well, that at least some print publications that had been written off as dead may not need obituaries, after all.
Otherwise, I’m afraid we’ll find out - too late - that a valuable piece of who we are has been lost.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
CRISIS MANAGEMENT 101: HANGING FROM A CLIFF
CRISIS MANAGEMENT 101: HANGING FROM A CLIFF
I was hanging from a cliff at 4,000 feet, in the Nantahala Gorge in the Great Smoky Mountains. I realized that my life would be over as soon as my arms weakened. And I realized I never should have ignored my gut feelings.
All morning long, I had been fighting those feelings. I knew the climb would be hard. For one thing, it was nearly winter in the Smokies…and I knew there would probably not be anyone else in the Gorge. For another, the past hurricane season had deluged western North Carolina, and climbing conditions were horrible…thick muck everywhere, and soaking-wet rock.
But I guess I had a sense of confidence, despite the elements. I had been climbing my entire adult life; I had climbed in the Alps, and I had climbed in the Rockies often. I had even climbed before in these same Smokies. And the only accident I’d ever had was at 13,000 feet in Colorado, when my partner and I slipped on wet ground and I went flying into a boulder. I had a pretty nice gash on my leg; but we were able to staunch the bleeding with a tourniquet, and I made it down without incident.
So, despite those nagging feelings, I began my ascent. About an hour into the climb, I came upon a climber’s worst nightmare – a small brook running downhill, which could be forded only by crossing wet rocks covered with algae. I forded the brook. But, all the way up after that, I kept thinking that I’d have to cross that brook again on my descent.
But I succeeded in making my objective, an alpine hut near the top where other climbers had signed their names in a tattered journal. I gave myself a nickname – common practice in the climbing community – and signed it, and then started back down.
After one hour, it was raining so hard I could barely see. After another hour, my boots were sinking into the muck with each step. And after a third hour, I could no longer make out the landmarks by which I had marked my trail on the way up.
Then I came to that brook.
Experienced climbers will tell you that the descent is often more dangerous than the ascent. For one thing, you’ve already (hopefully) achieved the “high” of reaching your objective. For another, your muscles are tired by then. And, for a third, your concentration – which has already been very tightly focused for some hours - can sometimes tend to wander.
I’ve let that happen to me occasionally in the past. But not this time. I was extremely careful. I used my poles to poke for stable spots. I didn’t put any weight on my lead foot until I was sure that the ground would not give.
I got about halfway across, trying to balance on a rock while I figured out my next step. But I never got to take it.
All of a sudden, up was down and down was up; the world was rotating violently around me. I felt things bang against my head, and against my ribs. I had no control over my body. I felt my heard jerk wildly.
A few seconds later, I was hanging on to a ledge for dear life.
I slowed my breathing down, so I could take stock of the situation.
The first thing I tried to determine was whether I had broken anything, or if I was bleeding…not easy to do when you’re holding on to the muddy side of a cliff. As far as I could tell, I hadn’t broken anything, although there was blood dripping from my face.
The next thing was to determine where the hell I was. I quickly saw that I had only fallen about 12-13 feet.
Then I did a quick check of my surroundings. I was flat against the side of the mountain, my fingers digging into the muck of the ledge. Below me was a fall of at least a couple of thousand feet, with huge trees sticking out of the side of the mountain at about 70-degree angles…any one of which would have killed me instantly on impact. I could not reach my cell phone, which was on one of my climbing belts, because I dared not take one arm off the ledge (and, at that altitude, it probably wouldn’t have worked anyway).
I was almost eerily calm. I’m an experienced climber, I told myself. Just do what you always do as a climber: Break down your objective (thirteen feet above) into smaller steps.
Plan A was to call out loudly to see if there was anyone near me who could help. But, as mentioned earlier, it was nearly winter in the Smokies…and I, apparently, was the only one dumb enough to be out there.
Plan B was to push myself up with my legs. But each time I tried to wedge my boots into the mud, I slid down another inch or so.
Plan C was to pull myself up by the branches hanging in front of me. But each branch that I grabbed broke off.
Plan D was some serious praying. My backpack felt like it weighed a million pounds. My arms were getting really tired. And I then realized that I would be dead as soon as I lost my grip. I actually said goodbye to my daughters, Jessica and Alyssa.
And then, something occurred to me. Perhaps, if I (very gently) burrowed with one hand down into the mud in front of my face, I could find some tree roots to help lift myself up. I knew tree roots wouldn’t break; they had been there for thousands of years.
Very slowly, I removed my left hand (my weaker one) from the ledge, and began burrowing into the mud. I remember feeling a root below. I remember wrapping my gloves around it. I remember using it to propel myself up, maybe 8-10 inches. And I remember saying to myself, “OK, Stephen, that’s the first one. You’ve got about twelve more feet to go.”
Next thing I knew – although I can’t remember how – I was standing on the spot where I had fallen from (thankfully, on the “down-side” of the brook).
An hour later, I was down at the ranger station, where they stopped the bleeding on my face and told me that I had some cracked ribs.
What had I learned from the experience? Well, from a climbing perspective, never to climb in poor conditions without a partner.
A month or so later, though, back in the warmth of South Florida, I began to realize that I had also learned some lessons that could be incorporated into PR crisis-management:
1) IF YOUR GUT IS TRYING TO TELL YOU THAT SOMETHING ISN’T RIGHT – LISTEN TO IT!
2) MAKE SURE YOU ALWAYS HAVE A BACK-UP PLAN.
3) REHEARSE YOUR BACK-UP PLAN IN ADVANCE, TO ENSURE THAT IT WILL WORK WHEN YOU NEED IT TO.
4) STAY CALM DURING A CRISIS. IF YOU STAY CALM, YOUR EMPLOYEES AND/OR CLIENTS WILL.
5) MAKE SURE YOU’RE FULLY AWARE OF ALL YOUR OPTIONS.
6) BREAK DOWN YOUR LARGER OBJECTIVES INTO SMALLER TACTICS.
7) NEVER BELIEVE THERE’S ONLY ONE WAY OUT OF A PROBLEM.
8) TRAIN. TRAIN. TRAIN. PREPARATION IS ESSENTIAL WHEN A CRISIS DOES CROP UP.
9) QUITE OFTEN – IF YOU TAKE THE TROUBLE TO LOOK – YOU CAN SEE A POTENTIAL CRISIS BEFORE IT ACTUALLY COMES UP.
10) ALWAYS SEE THE BIG PICTURE.
11) NEVER GIVE UP!
You may not be a mountain-climber. But if you do these things, you’ll never find yourself hanging from a cliff in your PR practice!
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
I was hanging from a cliff at 4,000 feet, in the Nantahala Gorge in the Great Smoky Mountains. I realized that my life would be over as soon as my arms weakened. And I realized I never should have ignored my gut feelings.
All morning long, I had been fighting those feelings. I knew the climb would be hard. For one thing, it was nearly winter in the Smokies…and I knew there would probably not be anyone else in the Gorge. For another, the past hurricane season had deluged western North Carolina, and climbing conditions were horrible…thick muck everywhere, and soaking-wet rock.
But I guess I had a sense of confidence, despite the elements. I had been climbing my entire adult life; I had climbed in the Alps, and I had climbed in the Rockies often. I had even climbed before in these same Smokies. And the only accident I’d ever had was at 13,000 feet in Colorado, when my partner and I slipped on wet ground and I went flying into a boulder. I had a pretty nice gash on my leg; but we were able to staunch the bleeding with a tourniquet, and I made it down without incident.
So, despite those nagging feelings, I began my ascent. About an hour into the climb, I came upon a climber’s worst nightmare – a small brook running downhill, which could be forded only by crossing wet rocks covered with algae. I forded the brook. But, all the way up after that, I kept thinking that I’d have to cross that brook again on my descent.
But I succeeded in making my objective, an alpine hut near the top where other climbers had signed their names in a tattered journal. I gave myself a nickname – common practice in the climbing community – and signed it, and then started back down.
After one hour, it was raining so hard I could barely see. After another hour, my boots were sinking into the muck with each step. And after a third hour, I could no longer make out the landmarks by which I had marked my trail on the way up.
Then I came to that brook.
Experienced climbers will tell you that the descent is often more dangerous than the ascent. For one thing, you’ve already (hopefully) achieved the “high” of reaching your objective. For another, your muscles are tired by then. And, for a third, your concentration – which has already been very tightly focused for some hours - can sometimes tend to wander.
I’ve let that happen to me occasionally in the past. But not this time. I was extremely careful. I used my poles to poke for stable spots. I didn’t put any weight on my lead foot until I was sure that the ground would not give.
I got about halfway across, trying to balance on a rock while I figured out my next step. But I never got to take it.
All of a sudden, up was down and down was up; the world was rotating violently around me. I felt things bang against my head, and against my ribs. I had no control over my body. I felt my heard jerk wildly.
A few seconds later, I was hanging on to a ledge for dear life.
I slowed my breathing down, so I could take stock of the situation.
The first thing I tried to determine was whether I had broken anything, or if I was bleeding…not easy to do when you’re holding on to the muddy side of a cliff. As far as I could tell, I hadn’t broken anything, although there was blood dripping from my face.
The next thing was to determine where the hell I was. I quickly saw that I had only fallen about 12-13 feet.
Then I did a quick check of my surroundings. I was flat against the side of the mountain, my fingers digging into the muck of the ledge. Below me was a fall of at least a couple of thousand feet, with huge trees sticking out of the side of the mountain at about 70-degree angles…any one of which would have killed me instantly on impact. I could not reach my cell phone, which was on one of my climbing belts, because I dared not take one arm off the ledge (and, at that altitude, it probably wouldn’t have worked anyway).
I was almost eerily calm. I’m an experienced climber, I told myself. Just do what you always do as a climber: Break down your objective (thirteen feet above) into smaller steps.
Plan A was to call out loudly to see if there was anyone near me who could help. But, as mentioned earlier, it was nearly winter in the Smokies…and I, apparently, was the only one dumb enough to be out there.
Plan B was to push myself up with my legs. But each time I tried to wedge my boots into the mud, I slid down another inch or so.
Plan C was to pull myself up by the branches hanging in front of me. But each branch that I grabbed broke off.
Plan D was some serious praying. My backpack felt like it weighed a million pounds. My arms were getting really tired. And I then realized that I would be dead as soon as I lost my grip. I actually said goodbye to my daughters, Jessica and Alyssa.
And then, something occurred to me. Perhaps, if I (very gently) burrowed with one hand down into the mud in front of my face, I could find some tree roots to help lift myself up. I knew tree roots wouldn’t break; they had been there for thousands of years.
Very slowly, I removed my left hand (my weaker one) from the ledge, and began burrowing into the mud. I remember feeling a root below. I remember wrapping my gloves around it. I remember using it to propel myself up, maybe 8-10 inches. And I remember saying to myself, “OK, Stephen, that’s the first one. You’ve got about twelve more feet to go.”
Next thing I knew – although I can’t remember how – I was standing on the spot where I had fallen from (thankfully, on the “down-side” of the brook).
An hour later, I was down at the ranger station, where they stopped the bleeding on my face and told me that I had some cracked ribs.
What had I learned from the experience? Well, from a climbing perspective, never to climb in poor conditions without a partner.
A month or so later, though, back in the warmth of South Florida, I began to realize that I had also learned some lessons that could be incorporated into PR crisis-management:
1) IF YOUR GUT IS TRYING TO TELL YOU THAT SOMETHING ISN’T RIGHT – LISTEN TO IT!
2) MAKE SURE YOU ALWAYS HAVE A BACK-UP PLAN.
3) REHEARSE YOUR BACK-UP PLAN IN ADVANCE, TO ENSURE THAT IT WILL WORK WHEN YOU NEED IT TO.
4) STAY CALM DURING A CRISIS. IF YOU STAY CALM, YOUR EMPLOYEES AND/OR CLIENTS WILL.
5) MAKE SURE YOU’RE FULLY AWARE OF ALL YOUR OPTIONS.
6) BREAK DOWN YOUR LARGER OBJECTIVES INTO SMALLER TACTICS.
7) NEVER BELIEVE THERE’S ONLY ONE WAY OUT OF A PROBLEM.
8) TRAIN. TRAIN. TRAIN. PREPARATION IS ESSENTIAL WHEN A CRISIS DOES CROP UP.
9) QUITE OFTEN – IF YOU TAKE THE TROUBLE TO LOOK – YOU CAN SEE A POTENTIAL CRISIS BEFORE IT ACTUALLY COMES UP.
10) ALWAYS SEE THE BIG PICTURE.
11) NEVER GIVE UP!
You may not be a mountain-climber. But if you do these things, you’ll never find yourself hanging from a cliff in your PR practice!
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
Monday, July 20, 2009
IS THERE STILL ANY DOUBT ABOUT ADVERTISING VS. PUBLIC RELATIONS?
My advertising brothers and sisters are going to hate me for saying this, but...
Ad agencies are finally realizing what PR can give that they can't - third-party credibility. Which may be why some of them are starting to offer services that blur the line between advertising and PR. And which may be why, over the past several years, a couple of major ad agencies have spoken to me about starting up Public Relations departments for them.
When a company gets written about in print or online, or gets positive broadcast coverage, that's more effective than ten technolgically-wizardous Super Bowl ads.
Let's face it, advertising - particularly broadcast - has never been more visually smashing or interesting than it is today. Yet, it often comes off as "eye candy." Particularly in times such as this, it just doesn't seem, in most cases, to generate the appropriate sales. Take the aforementioned Super Bowl ads, for instance. A few days after the Super Bowl, I often ask people if they can remember which products that specific ads - even the most interesting ones - were for. And very few of them can remember.
One of the reasons is that we get bombarded, these days, by about 17,000 messages a day - many of them, perhaps most of them, marketing messages. And many of those messages are only 30 or 60 seconds, flashing by us in a frantic 24/7 whirl, only to be replaced by the next mini-message.
Public relations, though - when done correctly - has the innate ability to generate top-of-mind consciousness that can stay top-of-mind. Rather than getting lost in the never-ending swirl of messages, an effective public relations message has "legs" - it can serve to continually reinforce the original message. And, when that happens, that message is hard to forget. And it usually generates business.
Bottom line? I'll be the first to say that there is definitely a place for honest, ethical, creative advertising in this world. But one inescapable truth remains. Advertising is bought and paid for. Public relations is earned.
Start the debate, folks!
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
Ad agencies are finally realizing what PR can give that they can't - third-party credibility. Which may be why some of them are starting to offer services that blur the line between advertising and PR. And which may be why, over the past several years, a couple of major ad agencies have spoken to me about starting up Public Relations departments for them.
When a company gets written about in print or online, or gets positive broadcast coverage, that's more effective than ten technolgically-wizardous Super Bowl ads.
Let's face it, advertising - particularly broadcast - has never been more visually smashing or interesting than it is today. Yet, it often comes off as "eye candy." Particularly in times such as this, it just doesn't seem, in most cases, to generate the appropriate sales. Take the aforementioned Super Bowl ads, for instance. A few days after the Super Bowl, I often ask people if they can remember which products that specific ads - even the most interesting ones - were for. And very few of them can remember.
One of the reasons is that we get bombarded, these days, by about 17,000 messages a day - many of them, perhaps most of them, marketing messages. And many of those messages are only 30 or 60 seconds, flashing by us in a frantic 24/7 whirl, only to be replaced by the next mini-message.
Public relations, though - when done correctly - has the innate ability to generate top-of-mind consciousness that can stay top-of-mind. Rather than getting lost in the never-ending swirl of messages, an effective public relations message has "legs" - it can serve to continually reinforce the original message. And, when that happens, that message is hard to forget. And it usually generates business.
Bottom line? I'll be the first to say that there is definitely a place for honest, ethical, creative advertising in this world. But one inescapable truth remains. Advertising is bought and paid for. Public relations is earned.
Start the debate, folks!
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
Thursday, July 16, 2009
IS THE BIG-AGENCY MODEL BROKEN?
There's a major - perhaps fatal - flaw in the big-PR-agency model. The flaw is the model itself. It really hasn't changed all that much, while the rest of the world has.
In my experience, big agencies often get caught up in bells and whistles, rather than substantive strategies. And this is true even in the pitching stage, before they even have the account.
As former Director of Public Relations for a substantial public company, I've sat through a lot of big-agency presentations over the years. And to say they were long on style and short on substance is a dramatic understatement.
True, they each trotted out their home-run hitters for the presentation...but we knew that, if we hired them, that would probably be the last time we'd see the big stars. The actual work would be done by minor-leaguers.
These presentations were invariably masterpieces of technical wizardry, meant to prove that this particular agency was on the cutting-edge of technology. And they piled on layer after layer of reasons why we should hire them...how wonderful they were, how talented, how "proprietary" their "advanced" systems were, how thrilled their clients were, their company's history, etc. (Suffice it to say that, after a half-hour or so of this, my eyeballs were not the only ones in the room that were rolling.)
What they didn't do, however, was to ask us about our needs. To ask us about our internal structures. To ask us about our goals and objectives. To ask us how we would measure results. To show us that they had any understanding at all of our company's history, or our company's clients, or our company's areas of pain.
They didn't ask questions. They didn't probe. They didn't show any interest at all in getting to know our company or our markets. They didn't show any interest at all in learning what we expected from an agency relationship.
And they didn't get our business, either. After sitting through a number of dog-and-pony shows, we decided to keep the work in-house.
It's dangerous to generalize, of course. But it just may be that, in this day and age, when swiftness and flexibility and real-time responses and fewer layers of management/accountability and increased personal initiative are required, that many larger agencies can't keep up. Or haven't learned how to keep up.
It just may be that many haven't yet learned that technology is - still - not as important as talent. That bells and whistles are - still, and hopefully never - as important as substance. That stifling corporate structure is not as effective - especially when a quick response/action is called for - as individual initiative. That top-down management is not as nimble as employee-empowered management. That bloated "org charts" and command-structures serve only to inhibit timely response. And that one pro who knows what he's doing is worth more than ten juniors who just push "send" buttons without having a clue as to the real principles of effective public relations practice.
No one should be saying that the era of the big agency is over. What I'm saying, however, is that these agencies need to do what the rest of us have been working on for a while now - change your structure, your management philosophies, and your operating systems to reflect the fact that we're in a new age. That things are changing - daily - and we must change with them. That what worked in the past will not work today.
That most clients, or potential clients, don't give a damn about what you did for others in the past...they only care about what you can do for them today. And that the best way to prove what you can do for them is by asking questions about them...not bragging about yourself.
If big agencies have the foresight and the strength - and the courage - to adapt to this new world, there's no reason they can't flourish.
But right now, in some cases, the big-agency model may be in need of some real structural overhaul.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
In my experience, big agencies often get caught up in bells and whistles, rather than substantive strategies. And this is true even in the pitching stage, before they even have the account.
As former Director of Public Relations for a substantial public company, I've sat through a lot of big-agency presentations over the years. And to say they were long on style and short on substance is a dramatic understatement.
True, they each trotted out their home-run hitters for the presentation...but we knew that, if we hired them, that would probably be the last time we'd see the big stars. The actual work would be done by minor-leaguers.
These presentations were invariably masterpieces of technical wizardry, meant to prove that this particular agency was on the cutting-edge of technology. And they piled on layer after layer of reasons why we should hire them...how wonderful they were, how talented, how "proprietary" their "advanced" systems were, how thrilled their clients were, their company's history, etc. (Suffice it to say that, after a half-hour or so of this, my eyeballs were not the only ones in the room that were rolling.)
What they didn't do, however, was to ask us about our needs. To ask us about our internal structures. To ask us about our goals and objectives. To ask us how we would measure results. To show us that they had any understanding at all of our company's history, or our company's clients, or our company's areas of pain.
They didn't ask questions. They didn't probe. They didn't show any interest at all in getting to know our company or our markets. They didn't show any interest at all in learning what we expected from an agency relationship.
And they didn't get our business, either. After sitting through a number of dog-and-pony shows, we decided to keep the work in-house.
It's dangerous to generalize, of course. But it just may be that, in this day and age, when swiftness and flexibility and real-time responses and fewer layers of management/accountability and increased personal initiative are required, that many larger agencies can't keep up. Or haven't learned how to keep up.
It just may be that many haven't yet learned that technology is - still - not as important as talent. That bells and whistles are - still, and hopefully never - as important as substance. That stifling corporate structure is not as effective - especially when a quick response/action is called for - as individual initiative. That top-down management is not as nimble as employee-empowered management. That bloated "org charts" and command-structures serve only to inhibit timely response. And that one pro who knows what he's doing is worth more than ten juniors who just push "send" buttons without having a clue as to the real principles of effective public relations practice.
No one should be saying that the era of the big agency is over. What I'm saying, however, is that these agencies need to do what the rest of us have been working on for a while now - change your structure, your management philosophies, and your operating systems to reflect the fact that we're in a new age. That things are changing - daily - and we must change with them. That what worked in the past will not work today.
That most clients, or potential clients, don't give a damn about what you did for others in the past...they only care about what you can do for them today. And that the best way to prove what you can do for them is by asking questions about them...not bragging about yourself.
If big agencies have the foresight and the strength - and the courage - to adapt to this new world, there's no reason they can't flourish.
But right now, in some cases, the big-agency model may be in need of some real structural overhaul.
Steve Winston
President, WINSTON COMMUNICATIONS
(954) 575-4089
steve@winstoncommunications.com
www.winstoncommunications.com
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