The wisdom of the Dalai Lama

This morning I woke up early to take a crack at the book. It was somewhere around 5 AM, and after I wrote down what had come to me, I hit up Twitter to see who else was up and posting. The Dalai Lama (@DalaiLama) had this to say:

(For those who don’t do graphical interfaces, he tweeted “You need self-confidence and determination: feeling depressed and losing hope will never really help to correct any situation.”)

This guy is like a Tibetan fortune cookie, slapping me upside the head. I don’t regularly see his tweets in my Twitter stream, perhaps due to time zone differences, but this one was a perfect shakabuku. Lately, I’ve been swamped with “real” work (i.e. the stuff that pays my bills), which has been causing Naked Montréal to fall by the wayside. It’s been getting me down, and I started to feel depressed about it, like I would never get around to finishing this book. But it’s true: feeling depressed and losing hope don’t help. You’ve just got to get up early in the morning, give your cat some quick snuggles, and then get to work.

So here I am, working on my novel. And you know what? 5 AM never felt so good.

(Cross-posted from NakedMontreal.net)

Amateur journalism and blogging: friends or foes?

Having recently joined the National Amateur Press Association as a trial member to find out what the group was all about, I received their regular bundle of amateur journalists’ publications. I read through a few to get a feel for the organization’s ideals and goals, and one of the ones that caught my eye was The Prickler, published by Barry Schrader of DeKalb, Illinois.

Schrader asked the question, “Will blogging doom ‘Amateur Journalism’?” in a single-fold pamphlet, and I found myself curious.

After reading his June 2010 installment of The Prickler, it seems that Schrader believes:

… this new age of computing and online expression has had little or only marginal effect on the AJ groups. They continue in decline and seem to have lost their attractiveness to young people…”

According to Schrader, young people have little interest in the “old-timers” that make up the NAPA, and thus their club will eventually have to look to failed or thwarted “real” journalists to swell their ranks—people who “intended to become newspaper reporters, graphic designers or creative writers but were forced into different careers for economic or other reasons.”

This, to me, misses the whole point of blogging and digital publishing. After all, blogging is often referred to as “citizen journalism” by mainstream news media (who also, in my opinion, largely miss the point—but that’s another entry for another day), and bloggers are often afforded the same rights as “real” news media outlets, and then some. Odd, then, that Schrader would consider bloggers not to be amateur journalists, presumably because they do not pay dues to the NAPA (or the American Amateur Press Association, its more modern counterpart), or print their works on dead trees. If one sends out e-newsletters rather than “tree-newsletters” (as Sy Safransky of The Sun might call them), does this make one less of an amateur journalist? I would think not. But then, I suppose the entire argument really hinges on the definition of “journalism,” and the ways in which writers for the web currently perceive themselves.

Prior to my discovery of the NAPA, I never would have described myself as an amateur journalist. A journalist, perhaps, having at one point written a column for a newspaper, but certainly not an amateur. The description does, however, make sense. One who does not work for a professional publication but instead publishes for personal reasons, without formal training or schooling is, effectively, an amateur journalist. Bloggers, then, are for the most part amateur journalists. But if I publish a blog, and have never been to J-school, does this make me an amateur journalist by default, even though I have previously published a regular column in a newspaper? The distinction seems, to me, irrelevant, and by default casts aspersions on the whole concept of “amateur journalism” in our digital age.

Ultimately, I feel that blogging and amateur journalism do not compete for the same audience. Blogs are for those who enjoy reading or browsing material online, whereas amateur journalism is the type of hobby writing that appears most often in the form of annual holiday newsletters printed on special stationery. Is one better than the other? No, although one is certainly more easily accessible by strangers. Both may be home to great or terrible writing, and both may have their audiences and their detractors. I suppose, as a child of the Internet, I simply don’t see much attraction to spending my hard-earned money on printing things up for a limited audience when I can just go ahead and press “publish” on my blog for free.

In the end, I doubt I will end up joining the NAPA as a permanent member, not because I do not appreciate their efforts or enjoy their work, but because I prefer to join virtual communities as a blogger. I enjoy the ease of communication that the Internet affords us all (even when many of those easy communications turn out to be spam). I appreciate the comments readers leave on my blogs, no matter how few and far between, and I like being able to reach all of my friends at once with a few clicks of the keyboard and a post on Twitter that is instantly cross-posted to my Facebook account, spreading my work throughout the English-speaking world in a matter of nanoseconds. This instantaneous access is, I suspect, what originally drew most of us to the Internet, and what continues to hold us hostage to it. Can we really close the browser for good, when everyone is so effortless connected? It seems sacreligious to even suggest it.

And while I may occasionally wish I were a bit more inaccessible, taking a media holiday just to escape the inescapable, I really do love the Internet’s ability to bring people closer together through words and pictures and endlessly propagated memes. It’s quite amazing, really, when you stop to think about how it all works, and how my fingers typed these words only to transmit them directly to your brainpan a few minutes later. Sure, printed pages are nice, and I do hope to publish a real live book this fall, but blogging isn’t going to stop that from happening. (Well, not unless I never end this entry, anyway.)

What do you think? Are blogging and amateur journalism the same thing? Compatible? Incompatible? Friends or foes?

Copywriting: J. Peterman’s style

I recently approached a previous client regarding the possibility of more copywriting work, emboldened by The Well-Fed Writer’s claims that cold calling works, but “lukewarm calling” is often more lucrative. The editor I queried wrote back to ask if I had any experience writing in the style of the inimitable J. Peterman.

I promptly went to the J. Peterman website, perused some of their copy, and set to work spinning a few Peterman-esque short tales of my own that might work for the client’s website, using some of their current merchandise as inspiration.

I also posted on Twitter about it, saying “One potential employer I contacted wants copy in the form of the J. Peterman catalogue. I’ve been browsing the monocle: http://bit.ly/65wW0l.” (Seriously, who can pass up a real, honest-to-goodness monocle?!)

J. Peterman is, naturally, on Twitter, and responded accordingly:

Unfortunately, I’m still in suspense myself. But I promise to let you all know if I do end up landing any work of this type, as I will clearly be shadowing the footsteps of genius.

And, of course, watching all of the old Seinfeld episodes with Peterman in them to serve as a secondary source of inspiration. Despite the show’s ribbing, they did manage to get Peterman’s sometimes overblown tone down, emphasizing the fine line between creative copy and impenetrably ridiculous wordsmithing (see, for example, the episode entitled “The Foundation,” where Elaine takes over for Peterman and puts the “urban sombrero” on the cover of the catalogue). Still, the real J. Peterman’s descriptions do work well: if you’ve ever read through the catalogue, you’ll find yourself agreeing with the company’s Twitter summary of what they do: “People want things that are hard to find. Things that have romance, but a factual romance, about them.”

In short, J. Peterman’s style is about both romantic product descriptions and the whiff of exclusion. Not everyone can afford the items for sale in the catalogue, and that’s what gives them an edge. It’s this idea that the product you are buying is, if not one-of-a-kind, then at least one-of-very-few. It’s that rarity that puts the item in demand, and the copywriter’s sexy description helps nudge the customer’s hand toward the “buy now” button. It’s an elegant form of salesmanship, and one that clearly gets results, as the company has been thriving since 1987.

It also makes for a great writing exercise, as demonstrated by this article in Writing Fix, “A Six-Trait Writing Lesson That Uses the J. Peterman Catalogue.” (Seriously, try it. You’ll be waxing lyrical in no time!)

In the meantime, if anyone would care to gift me with one of Peterman’s (discounted) Get Around Vespa Jackets, I promise to use this inspiration toward writing brilliant copy for the sender of said inspiration. Hey, J. Peterman: need any new writers for your site? Will work for designer duds*!

*Fee negotiable