It should be said, I also hope to do more posting in the New Year. I suppose the economic situation has escaped no one’s attention by this stage, and my attention lately has necessarily been more on the work itself – getting it, doing it – than writing about it. I’ve been doing copywriting, journalism, interviewing, and editing, training; tutoring, mentoring; press & PR work, including social media; and am currently helping someone restructure and rewrite a website for a new venture.

So even in bad old 2011, I’ve been lucky to do some really exciting, good work. I’ve met some wonderful, committed, energetic, creative people this year. I’ve worked on great stories and projects, in a spectrum of sectors: renewable technology, energy=saving, the arts and publishing, and others. I’ve put a lot into it, I’ve learned a lot, and I’ve been able to use what I learned.

I’ve helped some people really put all their ducks – I mean snowmen – in a row. I’ve helped clients get technical reports accurate and readable, and start or improve their blogs and websites, and get their books published, and learn to get their messages across more clearly.

As my attention turns to food preparation and my family, I realise I can look back and feel I made a real difference to a wide variety of clients in 2011. Even with the uncertainty we’re currently looking into, that’s a great feeling.

So along with my two snowman pals, let me wave you a very Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah, and a very prosperous New Year. And I really do hope to work with you in 2012.

Now, let’s get festive.

Well, and to continue with the outlaw theme, I stole this from the man who made it, who owns a design agency in Rapid City, South Dakota.  (I love that.) (But as he posted it up on Facebook, where I found it doing the rounds, I thought it might be more like borrowing…)

Thinking about why this gave me so much pleasure – aside from the sound of the ‘s’s where we’re used to hearing ‘sh’, and the brushing-up of teeth against expectations – is that the small absence of the ‘h’ has created a new thing.

That is, it follows the law of nature, which abhors a vacuum.

If you apply the word ‘vacuum’ to meaning, you get the word ‘vacuity’. Vacuity is what you get when a statement, in whatever medium, carries too little meaning to fill it up. All the bigness of it, the significance, either melts away, or is dragged heavily around under the weight of its pretensions.

In other words, as this picture demonstrates:  if it ain’t one thing, it had better be something else.

That’s the law.

This applies to all fugitive letters, parts of letters, punctuation, spaces, meanings in words in context, and runaway jargon trains.

Great: but will they do it when they're home alone and there's no one to tell?

I got into an interesting conversation the other day about social media as a channel for social marketing – and, oddly enough, came over a bit socialist. Social marketing is where the thing being marketed isn’t a product or service – i.e., something you want your readers to buy – it’s a behaviour you want them to adopt. Social marketing applies to things like quit-smoking campaigns; 5 a day is social marketing. The conversation I was having – on Futerra’s blog – was about using Facebook to get people to go green, and the fact that Facebook is increasingly like a big shopping mall, with shops – or adverts – all round the sides of it. It was quoted (from Rory Sutherland of Ogilvy) that ‘marketing has done a very good job at creating opportunities for impulse buying’.

Now, this is true. But social media, while it contains marketing, is more flexible than that – it contains the constituent parts of marketing, broken down and rearranged. And as various as people are, they are that various in how they use social media.

Look at how two lovers can stand and kiss under a hoarding, oblivious to its message.

I can say that I have never once clicked on an advert on Facebook. I’m a writer: the writers are all over Facebook. We use it as an office. It’s like a big office block with levels and floors and meeting rooms and water coolers and corridors along which no one wants to be seen to prowl. We use it for networking, debating new developments in the publishing industry, debating prize results, debating new books, debating literary politics.

Debate is an intensely social experience, with all the ups and downs and subtleties of a social experience, and it has the power to change minds. Look how important the agora was in Ancient Greece, or the forum in Rome.

I’ve made strong professional alliances on Facebook, as well as actual friends. I’ve bought books I wasn’t planning to. I’m sure social media influenced my purchase of a Kindle. It’s influenced my attendance at book launches and other events – an influence on both my networking and exposure to new work, and also my book purchasing.

I’ve also commissioned writing – excellent writing – from people I’ve only met or heard about via Facebook, which means that to some extent they acted as ads for themselves. In many cases, such is the facilitating nature of the medium, they were people with whom I already shared big things (such as a publisher) in common.

In a social marketing sense, and specifically a green sense, it’s harder: as it was said in the discussion, it will be very interesting to see someone try to influence people to buy (or do) LESS.

In a specifically green sense, I ran the blog and tweeted at the Energy Saving Trust for nearly a year – and the irony of the audience having to switch on the electricals in order to receive the message was not lost! On us or, as it happens, the readers, who really know their stuff.

Come to that, there was also considerable irony in the fact that a single Google search uses as much energy as boiling a full kettle. (Try watching a smart meter while you boil a kettle. You might think twice about making tea for a day or two.)

Clearly, social marketers in social media need to recognise – and learn to negotiate – this irony.  We need to remember that in some area, or on some level, the reader almost certainly knows at least as much as we do. You can’t pull the wool over anyone’s eyes. This is something lots of organisations are not yet quite to grips with.

Neither has anyone yet found a fruitful way to ‘negative-advertise’ back into NOT. (Even the word ‘fruitful’ negates the NOT.) We have to create the positive, YES, value, and – in Ogilvy terms – sell the sizzle back to the public. But this is more than just sizzle. We need to find out what the positive value is – is it the neighbours smelling your sizzle? Is it future, the kids? In the immediate term, is it low energy bills?

David Ogilvy’s book , while we’re on the subject of things Ogilvy, is full of masterful long copy, which relies on facts and information. He sold his agency itself on its knowledge. Knowledge appeals to people in all kinds of subtle ways. For one thing, they feel flattered to have it. For another, it is power. I myself feel the power of knowledge every time I feel guilty for making a Google search, and using all that electricity. Someone should do something on Facebook to deepen this guilt, so I’ll start really wanting to avoid it. Or maybe innovate a less energy-intensive , crowdsourced way of getting information…

So back to Rory Sutherland. He says another thing social media marketers need to think about. (It’s all in his TED talk, ‘Life lessons from an ad man’.) He says: ‘The interface fundamentally determines the behaviour.’

This is a fancy way of arriving back where we started. We need to learn, as fast and well as we can, what are the best, most reward-driven, most delayed-but-gratified, and most social ways of getting people to say YES, and MEAN it. We need to forget the whole selling-and-consuming paradigm, and find something new – or, maybe, as old as the forum.

Next year: the matchbox...

I’ve written a few annual reviews in my time, oh yes. And here’s my experience: they’re getting smaller. At least the ones I’ve worked on. Smaller and, in these straitened, digital times, sometimes not even printed on paper.  They’re changing.

(I once produced a visual style guide on a CD, where the guideline book formed the CD booklet, and was also on the CD itself, along with correct logo files, as a pdf.)

But I’ve never seen one this small! The British Heart Foundation‘s new annual review – based on feedback from stakeholders that even last year’s A5 number was too big – is a compact, concept-driven model, running on the twin engines of a travelcard-sized booklet and an interactive web-based map.

‘With you all the way’: the idea is journeys. And wherever your life journey takes you, the British Heart Foundation (like the moon) will be right over your shoulder.

The annual review I wrote last year was smaller than the previous one, and the project process was streamlined, too. It was very much about resource issues – fewer people to work on it, less time to mess around – but there was an equal element where attention also seemed in short supply. Were stakeholders really going to want to sit and read through that much detail? There had been a restructure the year before, there was another one coming; many stakeholders were in the same position; and forty pages of bragging no longer feels quite appropriate… We went for a page-spread for every service offering area, a spread for carbon emissions & sustainability issues, and one for financials. Top-line messages and some good, solid, tight creative production: people stories and positive impacts. Bish bash bosh, as they say.

Now I’m really interested to see this one. You can read more about the whole thing, and the designers and the website, at the ever-wonderful Creative Review. (Oh, and by the way, click on my links page and you’ll see Asbury & Asbury, who did the copywriting. See, I only know the best…)

I think the concept may have missed a trick, though? The first thing I thought of when I saw it wasn’t the credit card, or the travelcard it was modelled on: I thought of a donor card.

Going to a wedding? Buy a dress. Changing your job, going freelance, adding new services to your portfolio? Build a website.

Hmm, I’m building a website – again – must be summer…

I’ve made a decision. I have decided to jettison my job search, and stick with what seems to be working better at the moment: freelance copywriting, editorial, integrated social media and publications services.

This means I’d like to direct your attention – just follow my wand – to my Copywriting and Editorial services page.

In the current climate, everybody’s nervous. But someone said to me recently, ‘In these days, you just have to go with your real strength’.

That made me think. It was my line manager at work who said it, and he was talking about my best next career move. He said, ‘Your strength is that you can go in there, up the game and make everything better. You can write shit-hot reports and join things up’. (You see why he’s not on my testimonials page? I’d have to edit it.) So, with many thanks to him – for his compliment, and for the contract that has persuaded me this is the right idea – I’m giving up looking for a day job, and just concentrating on providing the best copywriting, editorial, integrated social media and publications services I can, to as many wonderful organisations as I can.

But first, what I’m really bursting with is the geeky excitement of having finally built my own proper, hosted website. You can see from the bottom of the page that I’ve gone all out and invested in the Thesis framework for WordPress. (That was some more good advice I followed.) With technical support from d-formed.net, my hosting providers (also a start-up), I’ve pretty much built this site in two working days. Call it three, including the mop-up bits like URL formats and so on.

The design is copied from my previous Squarespace site – which I also built myself – so it might not look that different from what I had before, but there are massive improvements, I think. The page feels roomier, the fonts are better, my content is tighter… and I’m kind of in love with the word cloud on the landing page. I’ve streamlined what I’m offering: all my more literary activities will be listed on another website, based on my Baroque in Hackney blog.

But most importantly for this site, after two years I’m finally managing to do what I originally intended. I have (as you can see) incorporated Text Pixels into my website. Yes! I’ve integrated my own channels. This neatens things up considerably: I’ll have two websites, offering two interlinked and overlapping sets of editorial services, and each will have its own blog in place.

That’s as good as a dress, I think.

So have a look around, and if you like what you see, get in touch. Either in the comments, or by email.

I’ve been writing a lot of cover letters, personal statements and CVs lately, so this video really spoke to me today.

Note how economically it covers its bases. It’s modest, yet confident and assertive. It has wit and humour. It covers experience in detail, as well as theskills the writer could bring to the table. It’s informal but not egotistical or unprofessional. In its making, it demonstrates the skills it describes.

This last one is a particular nightmare – for a writer, a cover letter or CV that’s less than mindblowing just lets you down professionally. I see a few of these, as we’ve  been receiving quite a few speculative approaches at work.

Reading these letters, which are effectively angling for my job, is a great way of seeing what works and what doesn’t. For example, I can see that if you write that you want to move your career into the sustainability sector – when taking a punt aftera feature on a sustainability company in the Sunday Times – and if your CV contains no reference to anything even remotely connected to the green sector – you should really say something about why you’re interested. Or what you think you could bring to it. Or how your previous work relates to it. Or prepared you for it. Or what your transferrable skills are. What’s in it for the employer.

The old saw goes that, whatever you write, you have to get into the head of the reader, imagining what they want to know about. Let’s face it: if you are writing a speculative letter, they didn’t want to know about anything. Until three seconds ago they’d never heard of you. They were wondering when to make a cup of tea.

The real trick, I think, is to keep the freshness of spirit of this video, while writing to each company in a manner appropriate to the recipient, in his or her own language. (A doddle, then! As you can see, I have a magic wand.)

Right now the entire Pixel family is looking for work. Talk about living the Zeitgeist! The Text Pixie herself, if that’s me, is in a temporary contract for two more months.

The Text Pixel daughter is looking for a Saturday job, now her exams are finished.

The eldest son, a young web design genius, has just handed in his final project for his second year of uni and is looking for work until October.

His girlfriend, a lovely, happy, friendly, experienced girl who can pull a mean pint, is looking for work in a pub.

And the Text Pixel boyfriend, a photographer who has been freelance his whole life, is looking for a way to pay the bills; a portfolio (however impressive) won’t do that. He’s a great writer too but has never done it professionally… What to do? The streets and jobcentres are flooded with people who have just found that their world no longer exists. There’s no disgrace in having to find yourself afresh in your forties, but it is a challenge.

His approach is to create a sort of living portfolio in the form of a blog, utilising his editorial and curatorial skills, showing that he can identify a niche, build a project, do picture research and negotiation and editing and copywriting, gain contributors (both photographers and writers), and grow an audience. It’s unlikely to land him an actual job; but it keeps his hand in, gives him a calling card, and is helping to develop new networks.

Anyway, I have written three of the CVs in question – all wildly different – and was asked for comment on the young designer’s portfolio site. He was worried about not having much professional experience, but there’s no shame in being young.

So now we’ve got two great portfolio sites and a blog that’s already gaining critical attention; and I’ve linked in and monstered and joined up and updated, and updated my own website. And we’re all researching companies to write to.

So we’ve got the material. We just have to go out there and hunt, under cover.

Cover letters, that is. I’m starting with the one at the top – and my magic wand.

Okay, they can make tea. But is their Twitter strategy joined up?

I’ve been reading a lot today, and only some of it’s been on Twitter. And talking to various people, and only some of it’s been about Twitter. (There were also some ancient boilers that looked like a family of very sweet robots; see above. They’re kind of following me.) But it’s the Twitter that’s sticking in my mind. Not just fun Twitter, but work Twitter. Corporate Twitter. What is it, how does it work, what can we get from it?

Is it a marketing, a communications, or customer relations tool? Or all three? How tightly controlled should it be? How many different Twitter accounts can an organisation run and not be confusing? Fewer than the Guardian, maybe; but it can be confusing if lots of people are tweeting from one account, too. As a follower you never know who you’re getting. Does it matter?

Does it matter in your organisation, I mean?

As with any other communication, it’s not really about  the tweets; it’s about how well you all understand each other. Sure, it’s about mission statements and company policy, but it’s also just about getting along. How does your organisation see itself? How does it talk inside itself? What does it – not just you, but the entity that is the whole shebang – think Twitter is for? How flexible, or not, is your brand? (This question contains another one, about a firm core of recognisability at the centre of the brand. This stuff used to be the domain of brand experts; now anyone with a stake in a twibbon needs to think about it too. How much can you stretch it before it snaps?) Who can best drive it?

It’s easy to be a bit afraid of Twitter, but it’s just a tool,  like a typewriter or a telephone once was. It’s a thing for getting things done. So what are you trying to do, and how do you want to do it? If you’re using Twitter to do it, maybe you need a Twitter strategy. Or at least a policy. (Or some guidelines…)

Like anything else, from a barbecue on up, a social media strategy depends on being clear about what you want to achieve. Once you get that, you can work out how you want to get there. I heard a story about someone who filled in a marketing materials commissioning form:

Material being prepared: leaflet

Outcome: leaflet

Well, that isn’t a bad start…

Here are my five tips (more like thoughts) for corporate Twitter:

1. Make sure everyone on your Twitter feed knows how to spell and use grammar. This sounds rudimentary, doesn’t it.
2. Make sure everyone understands where there’s some give and where there isn’t. Singers, songsheets…
3. Get your people talking to each other. Have a party. Have a meeting. Have lunch. Have something to talk about.
4.  Don’t forget your audience: they are people too, and want to be informed and entertained. What are you giving them? Don’t just talk about yourself the whole time. This really is basic stuff, but you’d be surprised. Dare to make a joke. Do reply to negative comments. Don’t worry that if you talk about something else for a minute, everyone will forget to come to your website.
5. Don’t script the tweets. Let your staff adopt natural voices – let them show that you have real people working in your organisation! Not just robots. (Or indeed Twitter bots, but that’s another post.)

Hmm, robots. There they are again, all different but strangely similar. Didn’t I hear that they make tea…?

Verb jamb, stile sheet, upper predicate and parting adjective...

Well, this seems like a good time to resuscitate the Text Pixel Pixie. I’ve been avoiding a discernable fluttering of little wings lately – and I mean more than just the moths! She has definitely been stretching and yawning.

There was the day the internal communications manager looked up at me from her desk, and said: “Transition. It’s not really a verb, is it?”

That was the same day another colleague wrote to her, asking her to put an item in the internal staff email telling people to stop misspelling “draught-proofing.”

That was, by chance, the very day I was already fulminating about language errors: “triple” not being a verb, and “to whit” instead of “to wit,” and verbs that don’t agree with their subjects. To wit: verbs in the singular, which agree with only the last noun in a list of things they’re supposed to apply to. To which they’re supposed to apply. Newspapers’ subeditors. Say no more. Agh.

Then there’s a thread someone started on Facebook, talking about how far we should honour (or honor) US or British typographical practice, with double or single quote marks, and punctuation falling inside or outside (of) them. This thread is getting long and, in places, a little heated; people have spent years of frustration, stuck on the wrong side of the Atlantic, working to an annoying style guide.

I even gave a potted history of the noble antecedents of the American word “gotten.”

In the middle of all that, I wrote a snarky post about Comic Sans, which dramatically illustrated the ability of a typeface to interact with mood, even while being a relatively cheap shot.

I don’t really have time to maintain two blogs. But the natural desire to have everything in its right place means I now resuscitate the fairy, and I’ll do something clever with LinkedIn or my website or something. It’ll all be fine.

So this brings me to the job description I just read. It’s a nice job and I’d have gone for it if the office in question weren’t relocating outside London. It’s a shame.  I think their ad takes this sadness a little too far, though, when it says: “Must be able to learn and perform multiple roles commiserate with working in a fast-growth small office setting.”

Bless! I am commiserating; I really am. And these people clearly do need me, but I can’t get to their office.

Enjoy your summer! And keep the holiday reading easy.