BLAH BLAH BLOG

First, a few quick disclaimers: 1) I’m a hockey fan, however, I’m not an NHL Network subscriber. Why? Because like I say, I’m a fan, not a fanatic. 2) I like knockin back a couple of cold ones as much as the next guy, but I intentionally don’t do it as much as I’d like. Why? Because I don’t necessarily wanna be like the next guy, and 3) I’m kinda diggin this whole social media thing, but I’m not about to post somethin every single day based on some perceived industry standard. Why not? Because every now and then I like to go out and have a couple of cold ones and watch a hockey game.

Here’s my beef.

In the February issue of Success Magazine, publisher Darren Hardy spoke with marketing maestro Seth Godin. Mr. Godin is the author of thirteen international best sellers and has been touted, “America’s
Greatest Marketer” by American Way Magazine. “His blog,” says Darren Hardy, “is perhaps the most popular ever written by any single mortal on God’s green earth.” Midway into the interview Godin points out the “remarkable” fact that he’s posted a blog (almost) everyday for the past seven years. And when asked what’s the one step that we, the small businessperson, should take toward becoming an effective and influential marketer in the 21st century, his straightaway response is, “Start a blog and blog every single day.” “You don’t have to tell anybody,” he says, “You just have to write something every single day about your work and why it’s interesting. And if you can’t come up with a reason why your work is interesting, do different work.”

Now I’m all for consistency, for working diligently at that which you care emphatically about. In fact, it’s this type of unflinching persistence that is the very foundation of Ingzig. It’s also a personal promise I made to myself several years back, and as I’ve stated time and time again, one that’s helped change my life for the better. Yet in all honesty I just don’t see the need—or the value—in sharing this with the rest of us on God’s green earth every single day, because frankly, it’s just not that interesting. Nevertheless, in spite of Mr. Godin’s off-the-cuff remark, I have absolutely no intentions of doing “different” work.

Clay Collins is a world-renowned Internet marketer who grew up on his grandparents’ citrus farm in rural southern California. At the age of 15 he started his first software company and has been practicing entrepreneurship ever since. What I learned from my grandfather was that not all things look glamorous from the outside. And that a lifetime of improving and perfecting something as simple as growing citrus trees could truly be an art that affects numerous lives. For 70 years my grandfather focused on one thing, and that was to get better and better at growing trees. For 70 years he was beautifully obsessed with growing the best citrus trees that he possibly could. Yet my grandfather didn’t have to write manifestos on growing trees. He didn’t have to tell his story to others about why he did what he did, or artificially infuse his work with meaning. And he certainly didn’t have to start a social movement about it on twitter.

I recently finished a book entitled, What I Talk about When I Talk about Running, by Haruki Murakami. Now I’m no runner but I must confess the more I read the more difficult it was to put down, mainly because the focus wasn’t entirely on running. Described as equal parts training log, travel log, and reminiscence, this180 page memoir circumscribes a twenty-three year long journey that leaves the reader with infinitely more than just a hair-trigger desire to go out and invest in a pair of brand new Nike’s.

And ya see that’s precisely my point.

Had this been some day-to-day account on the rigors of long distance running I guarantee ya the author would’ve lost me long before the five-mile marker. Why? Because on my, “Damn! That sure was interesting” barometer, it tends to rank right up there with the everyday operations of citrus tree farming. Hell ya might as well strap me naked to an all leather recliner on a sweltering August afternoon and force me to sit through some two-bit slide show of the neighbor’s family vacation frame by @%^# frame: This is us arriving at Disney World. (click) This is us getting out of the car at Disney World. (click) This is us checking into the Disney Resort Hotel at Disney World. (click) Get the visual?

But hey, the reality is just because Junior’s stroller incident with the ill-humored Mickey Mouse impersonator isn’t all that interesting to me or the other 7 billion people on the planet don’t mean you shouldn’t go to Disney World right? Of course not, because as we’re all well aware it’s invariably these intimate and unexpected little moments that make a trip (or journey) so special, memorable, and meaningful.

Forgive me. I don’t mean to be a wet blanket, it’s just that I get a little rattled at the idea that whenever things get a bit blasé the first suggested course of action is to move on or bail out. I’m not contending the fact that if you don’t find what you do interesting you’ll have a tough time stayin with it. I’m simply pointing out that if you plan on stayin with it there’s gonna be some things that aren’t all that interesting.

It’s been said that one of the great moments in literary history came in 1936 when Ernest Hemmingway, while trout fishing, caught a carp and decided not to write about it. Now there I'd have to agree is a welcomed bit of editorial wisdom.

It’s also a befitting analogy don’t ya think? Because in a sense we’re all trout fishing, we’re all looking to land that prized fish, and in preparation—in anticipation—of baggin that bad boy we need to steadily stand at the ready. Yet make no fish bones about it, no matter how well prepared, informed, or equipped you might be, you’re bound to snag an occasional carp along the way. It’s a part of fishin, a part of the process if you will. And understandably, just as no one wants to hear some tall tale about the one that got away, no one really wants to know about the boatload of bottom feeders you tossed back into the murky depths.

Fortunately, the good news is no one needs to know. All you need to know and remember is that like Clay’s grandfather, like Haruki Murakami and Ernest Hemingway; like the millions of other folks who are quietly baiting there hooks and casting their lines you too in your own unique and spirited way are doing what needs to be done. So don’t weigh anchor just yet, don’t go paddlin off in search of bluer waters, and/or, different work. Stay with it, keep your head down, your hopes up, and if at all possible, your mouth shut. The day’ll come when you land that trophy trout, then, if ya still feel the urge to tell the world, do so loud and proud, because now there’s an odds-on chance you’ve actually got something interesting to say.

One final disclaimer: Ingzig has been a beautiful obsession of mine for a number of years now, and while I’m pleased with the progress thus far, I'm convinced it’s time to step it up, to take it to the next level. And of course we all know what that means.  Yet needless to say I’m no Seth Godin, marketing is definitely not my forte. But as always, I'm certainly willing to listen, and to learn.

However, when I write, my sole intention is to write, not to market. For me the thought of such a notion would not only discourage me from writing every single day, but inevitably altogether. It’s not that I don’t wanna be a part of the “connection revolution,” it’s just that I wanna make sure that if and when I do make a connection it’s a lasting one. 

I admit my social acumen may not be up to par. Still and all, it remains the best way I know how to keep things relatively interesting, and genuinely gratifying all at the same time. See ya soon enough. Till then, keeep it up.