More importantly, using “pee” to illustrate the different approaches to communication on an array of social media sites is cute, and surprisingly effective. Take a look:

• “20 Stunning Social Media Statistics”

Intuitively, you might know that “Wite Out” is not a racist term. But if someone asks you to explain why, can you say anything other than, “That’s just silly; I hate political correctness”?

Most people can’t, but it can sometimes be important to know and explain your thinking. Not everyone will agree with your explanation, but in the event that someone tells you they’re offended, letting them know you’ve at least thought about it can go a long way. It can also give you peace of mind to know you’ve thought it through.

Language is a dynamic and evolving thing. It changes and adapts to the culture around it. It can be hard to keep up with changing ideas about what’s “politically correct” and what’s not. It can also be difficult to determine whether a term that one person says is “incorrect” would be considered as such by most people, or dismissed as ridiculous even by those who would allegedly be offended by it.

People who do some kinds of work stay on top of language issues because they’re relevant to their daily lives. But that’s not true for everyone. For people in some businesses, students in certain disciplines, self-publishing authors in some topic areas, or people for whom English is not a first language, the line between what’s currently considered “correct” and “incorrect” is not always obvious.

As a writer and editor, I think about this quite a lot. When a client brings something to me to review, I can tell them what should stay and what should go; sometimes they want to understand why, sometimes they just trust what I’m doing. But the point of this blog is to help you to do as much as possible of your communication for yourself, or at least to understand why someone you’ve hired is doing things the way they are.

I’ve come up with a list of questions that I think can help evaluate a word or term in a given context. I’ve tried this list out a number of times, but I’d be interested in hearing what others think:

1. Does the term in question invoke an image of a specific group of people?
2. Does that image group people together on the basis of an unalterable physical, mental, or behavioural trait?*
3. Is this group as a whole in a position of compromised power, control, or authority in our culture?
4. Do I typically associate stereotyped attitudes or behaviours with members of this group?*
5. Am I using the term in question to confer that stereotype onto the person or thing I’m describing?*

If I can answer “yes” to all of those questions, I don’t use that term—and know why I’m not using it. If someone is telling me something is “incorrect” but it doesn’t sit well with me, I can put it through those questions and make a rational decision.

“Wite Out” doesn’t make it past the first question. It doesn’t refer to people but to the most common colour of paper we write on. It’s also a play on words with the kind of “whiteout” that happens when heavy snow and high winds combine to make things seemingly disappear.

What do you think? Do those questions help? Is the issue just too complex? Do you have any suggestions for making them better? Is it even worthwhile to talk about finding a straightforward way to help sort out issues in writing?

(*Question 2 does not imply that, if the trait were alterable, it should be altered. Question 4 applies whether the attitudes or behaviours would be considered positive or negative. Question 5 recognizes that stereotyping is not always intended to be negative, and sometimes the intent is even complimentary, but stereotyping is always negative because it dehumanizes people.)

Leonard’s tip for good writing is simple: “I try to leave out the parts that people skip.” I’ve read elsewhere that usually, when you’re really attached to a piece of your own writing—when you think you’ve accomplished a truly great feat of wordcrafting—that’s probably the part you should cut. It’s amazing how often it’s true.

Without writing any more bits that you’d probably skip anyway just to get to the link, here it is:

• “10 Writing Tips from the Masters”

I thought of this when I read a recent post from Kivi Leroux Miller’s NonprofitMarketingGuide.com. I want to share a comment she made about communications planning:

Think of it as buying an old house. You aren’t going to tear it down. First, you make sure the basics are covered—the lights, plumbing, heat, etc. all work. Then you spruce up the basic living space, maybe painting and replacing the carpet. Then you can be more creative and experiment with new home accessories or landscaping.

In my last post, I countered several of the arguments I’ve heard from clients against communications planning. But that still leaves the question of how to do a communications plan that doesn’t take up a lot of your time. Not long after we bought our house, I took a course in communications planning and the instructors provided a basic chart that I use every time I work up any time I’m creating a communications plan, for any purpose. It looks something like this:

(Adapted from a chart developed by Pat Feindel and Trina Pouttu for a course taught by SFU Writing and Publishing Program. Used with permission.)

If you’re working in a group setting, like a small company or a nonprofit, you can fill in some of the blanks on your own and then take what you’ve developed to a staff or board group and spend an hour or so brainstorming to fill in the gaps (in pencil). You’ll not only come out of it with a basic communications plan, but do a team-building exercise at the same time. And because everyone has invested something in it, everyone will be more inclined to use it when it’s their turn to write a blog post, or you’re seeking ideas for what to post on Facebook or Twitter. It’s even something people can keep in mind when they’re talking about their work with friends or colleagues.

If you’re running a one-person show, you can create the chart, fill in as many blanks as possible, and then post it on the wall above your desk. Chances are you’ll be sitting at your desk some day, thinking about something completely different, when an idea will come to you. You’ll write it down in the appropriate place on the chart (in pencil) and tweak things as time goes on—just as you would with that old house.

Another great thing about this approach to communications planning is that it can be used for a variety of purposes. I’ve used to same chart to:

• Create a five-year communications strategy for a company with 14 international offices.
• Settle on major points for a media campaign for a nonprofit’s annual awareness month.
• Analyze the content of a newsletter and plan ways to build it into a more effective communications tool.
• Figure out how to incorporate new social media channels into an existing communications strategy.

The point is, communications planning doesn’t have to be complicated or time-consuming, and you don’t have to do it all at once. Just like moving in to a fixer-upper of a house, you do what’s most important first. Once you’ve got the basics, the rest falls into place a little bit a time.

By the way, 13 years later, our three kids love what we’ve done with our old house.

The difference between publishing a book and publishing a book professionally is similar to the difference between making a film with your cell phone and making a film with a crew, director, good lighting, and high-quality film.

I can’t imagine anyone making the point more clearly than that. Read the full interview.

So we made a plan. We’d use one of those organics-delivery services for our produce and buy our meat “over the gate” from farmers who met standards for ethical animal husbandry. We also started eating vegetarian once or twice a week and following a weekly meal plan.

It’s been amazing. We eat much better than we used to. Our diet is more varied day to day. Our food is rarely over- or under-cooked, because we know what to do and when to do it. We have far less waste, because we plan for leftovers. There are no last-minute trips to the store, because we buy groceries with the meal plan in mind.

A little bit of planning can yield phenomenal results for relatively little effort, yet it’s amazing how much resistance most people  have to planning. This is no different when it comes to communications planning.  Here are some typical things I hear from clients when I touch on the issue of communications planning:

“I’m the only one who speaks for the organization and I have it all in my head.”

So you have your organization’s plan in your head, but what if you’re on vacation when a big story breaks? If the media call your office looking for comment that could generate the profile you’ve been waiting for, will anyone know how to respond? Will a major funder or investor be impressed with your organization, or will a golden opportunity be lost?

“We’re too busy to plan; we fly by the seat of our pants.”

When you’re really busy, you do things fast, cheap, and often not very well. People work overtime and you don’t have time to communicate, so you don’t realize you’re duplicating efforts. By that time, money has been wasted—money that might have been better spent putting efficient systems in place to help you handle a crisis.

“We know our audience.”

You know your primary audience very well. But what about your secondary and tertiary audiences? A secondary audience usually consists of people who might not be interested in your cause or product for themselves, but perhaps on behalf of someone else. And virtually every client I’ve worked with has had a tertiary audience of the media and the general public. But almost no one thinks about communicating from angles that would interest their secondary and tertiary audiences—unless they plan for it.

“We don’t know what to do with that channel, so we’re not doing anything for now.”

When a new media channel opens up, it’s easy to say you don’t have time to learn it, you don’t know where it fits in the big picture, and you don’t want to make a mistake. But if you have a plan, you can see any gaps in your communications, find out what demographic is using that channel, and you think creatively and strategically about how to adapt it to your needs. Or you can discover it really doesn’t fit for you, and make an informed choice to focus your energies elsewhere.

Okay, so maybe you should develop a communications plan. But where are you going to find the time? Next post, I’ll offer a simple way to develop a basic plan as a starting place, and then suggest ways to use the same approach to deal with all your communications challenges strategically and efficiently.

Performance-Enhancing Drugs for Writers

By alvimann, morguefile, http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/534950

On a working day recently, I received a telefundraising (nonprofit telemarketing) call that epitomized how NOT to do telefundraising calls.

Before I go further, let me say that I like giving to charities and generally allocate one percent of my annual income to causes I’ve researched and support. Because there are so many causes, I’ve researched a handful of organizations to donate to regularly. For personal reasons, I tend to focus on social services and international aid; I rarely donate to health causes, except in memorium.

It was a bit surprising, then, when I received a call from the I-Won’t-Say-Which-Health Foundation. I’ve never donated to them and I don’t know how they got my number, except perhaps by buying another organization’s call list. I’m (supposedly) on a no-call list for telemarketing, so I hope they weren’t just going through randomly generated phone numbers.

Right off the bat, I find that disrespectful. I work at home, and constant interruptions from telemarketers can be frustrating. As a self-employed person, I never know when I might receive a work-related call from a number I don’t recognize, so I tend to answer all calls.

Everyone has to make a living, and I can’t imagine how hard it is to work at a call centre and hear “no” all day. That having been said, I have long since lost patience with business telemarketers. I don’t subscribe to the pushy approach to selling—not letting the “prospect” get a word in edgewise, using “no, thank you” as an invitation to keep talking, and generally not letting anyone who was raised with manners get off the phone without being rude. These are not my ideas of good sales tactics.

With telefundraisers, I am polite, albeit direct. Usually, before they get too far, I say their cause sounds worthy, but I’ve used my monthly budget for charitable giving, and perhaps they could use their time better by moving onto someone with whom they might have a chance of success. If they represent a charity I support, I tell them to keep us on their call list and I wish them luck with their next call.

On the day this particular call came, I was struggling to meet a couple of deadlines and this was the second of two calls in as many hours. I tend to listen closely for the name of the charity, but this young fellow said only that he was calling from the Donor Care Centre before launching into his pitch.

“Donor Care Centre for what?”  I asked a couple of times, because he ignored me the first time. He responded, barely taking a breath before continuing his pitch. Interrupting again, I said something like, “I’m sorry, but I work at home and you’ve caught me in the middle of a busy work day. While we do like to support worthy causes, we’ve used up our budget for this month so your time might be better spent moving on to your next call. Better luck with your next call.”

He only paused for a split second before responding in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Well, ma’am, I will be brief . . .” to which I replied, “No, I don’t think you understand. What I said was, no. Have a good evening and better luck with your next call.”

Granted, my deadline pressure probably coloured my annoyance. But reflecting on it later, it struck me how poorly this telefundraiser had conducted this call, and therefore how poorly he represented the organization:

• First, how did he get my number?
• Second, why did I have to ask what organization he was calling for?
• Third, why would anyone launch straight into a long pitch without so much as a by-your-leave?
• Fourth, why would someone appealing to people’s generousity interrupt and talk over the prospect?
• Fifth—sarcasm? Seriously?

As a communications professional who’s worked with nonprofits for years and generally takes these calls with more than the average person’s empathy for the caller, I’d like to say:

• First, if I wanted to give to your organization, you would not have to make a cold call.
• Second, it you want to talk to me, tell me who you represent and enunciate.
• Third, don’t use euphemisms like Donor Care Centre. Who comes up with this stuff?
• Fourth, if you want my empathy for your cause, don’t be pushy. You’re just pushing me away.
• Fifth, once you’ve realized it’s not going to work, thank the stars that this rejection was more polite than most, and move on.

I had to wonder if this fellow usually does regular telemarketing and was bringing the same techniques to telefundraising. But while all marketing shares certain features, cause marketing is not the same as product marketing. You’re not trying to tell people what they’ll get from you; you’re trying to tell them why they should care. If they’re considerate enough to make it clear to you from the get-go, in a reasonably polite way, that you’re not going to have success on this call, take the hint.

What really struck me was the contrast between this 30-second exchange and the two-hour experience I had around the same time at an Idle No More rally. The former left me annoyed, the latter elated. What was the key difference in approach? Respect.

If you’re going to ask people for something, treat them with respect. They may not say yes, but at least you won’t leave a lingering bad taste in their mouth.