Bonne Chance @ DAHplaytime

World Wide Rave

Karen Adair suggested a book to me the other day: 'World Wide Rave' by David Meerman Scott. She was really excited about the bits she'd read already, and eager to share.

'I just knew you'd appreciate this. I thought about people, and I just knew you were already trying to work this way.'

As she was talking (we were talking by telephone, that's how we almost always talk, since she's a 5-6 hour drive away) I Googled 'World Wide Rave' and David Meerman Scott.

'Wait, wait,' I said, interrupting Karen's eager flow of words. 'I've read this guy's other book. It's the book I told Rusty about and got him sort of depressed when he was preparing for his U.C. Extension PR class a while back.'

The guy's other book to which I referred is 'The New Rules of Marketing and PR.' I read it and shared it with Rusty Eddy. And we both recognized that we had to change some of our time-tested storytelling approaches to fit new methods of communication and the new media.

But, oh, my goodness, does that change take a lot of time and energy. To implement new practices, certainly. It's always difficult to change old habits and modes of thinking. But while it's difficult to change your own thinking and behavior, it's even more difficult to change the thinking and behavior of others. And we work with others. We have owners and bosses and fellow-employees and contractors and vendors. We have to change everyone's thinking and behavior. And first we have to get them to care, and even pay attention to what we're saying.

So the process of change is painfully slow, moving in fits and starts, as we make little changes, often at the margins, and lose the path ourselves because we still have to do lots of things the old way (because we haven't trained our team, yet).

'You can't teach an old dog new tricks.' That's not right. If the dog's at risk, he has to be retrained. But imagine that one or two people are trying to teach a pack of old dogs new tricks. Sometimes that feels as if there's no progress at all.

Not that my work-mates are old dogs resistant to change. Most (but not all) actually express real interest in doing things differently. Plus the company I work for is fairly modest in size, so there isn't a huge bureaucracy that needs to shift, just a few people. But even when we've talked about better ways to deal with daily fires, when the heat builds up, we all tend to reach for the good'ol fire hose and get to work. A familiar tool close to hand, and a familiar situation in which to apply that tool; it's difficult to remember that new trick.

So I work on side projects and extra-curricular activities and other ways to test the new, introduce the new. Building the new ways into regular behaviors, so we'll be ready to win tomorrow.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

Up The Hill

DAH: Want to walk up the hill?

MONKEY: What's up the hill?

DAH: I don't know. I just looked at it and thought I'd walk up it.

MONKEY: There's no point in walking up the hill if you don't even know what's up there. There's no incentive.

DAH: It's a nice day.

MONKEY: Nice day? What does that mean? And what does it have to do with the hill?

DAH: Well, it's sunny, and not too hot. There are some interesting clouds, fluffy clouds, blowing around. I looked out the back window, and thought it might be nice to go up it. Closer to the sky, too.

MONKEY: Incrementally closer to the sky, I suppose. But not much closer, in any kind of real or useful way. And still no incentive to go up the hill.

DAH: I just want to.

MONKEY: You just feel good.

DAH: Yeah, I guess I do.

MONKEY: Why do you feel good?

DAH: Looking out the back window and seeing the hill, I guess. And the blue sky. And the interesting clouds. It just made me feel good.

MONKEY: I don't understand how just looking at stuff can make you feel good.

DAH: I'm not just looking. When I take the time to look, I get feelings and ideas. I see possibilities, in my head. And the more I look, the more possibilities I see.

MONKEY: Possibilities for what?

DAH: For anything, for everything. They change all the time, the more I look.

MONKEY: When you look at anything?

DAH: Pretty much. But when I look out, at a big open view, like at the ocean, or up the hill at the sky, I tend to think bigger, happier, more hopeful thoughts and wider possibilities. More optimistic.

MONKEY: Usually you're looking at your desk and your computer screen.

DAH: Then my thinking gets smaller. I focus on all the stuff I have to do.

MONKEY: That doesn't sound too great.

DAH: It isn't.

MONKEY: Sounds like you ought to spend more time looking at the ocean and up the hill.

DAH: Bigger thoughts there, and more opportunity and hope.

MONKEY: So, why do you ever look down, at your desk, at your computer.

DAH: Because they're part of it, too, somehow. Part of it all, part of me. Plus, that's how I share.

MONKEY: Share?

DAH: All the ideas and hope and opportunity of the big view.

MONKEY: Oh, right. I get it, I guess.

DAH: I have to capture the big stuff from the hill and sky and ocean. I have to capture it somehow and share it with other people.

MONKEY: So they can see it, too.

DAH: So they can see part of it. Or so they can see what I see, or part of what I see, and understand why it matters, and maybe care themselves, too.

MONKEY: Think big, then focus.

DAH: What's that?

MONKEY: It's what you used to have on your business cards.

DAH: Right, that's right. I've got to have that again.

MONKEY: So, shall we go up the hill?

DAH: Ready?

MONKEY: Ready.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

Not Too Much, Yet

I read an article in last weekend's Wall Street Journal about Prosecco. The WSJ wine writers are pretty good. They're a wife and husband team: Dorothy Gaiter and John Brecher. They purchase all the wines they sample from retail wine shops, so sometimes they miss interesting or important wines that they can't find, but they really aren't tied to the wine industry's PR machine. I think this results in a gentler, less strident wine journalism. Their rhythms are pretty much their own.

Prosecco is a white winegrape variety, and also a wine made in northeastern Italy. Usually it is a light, fizzy wine, much less serious than Champagne (real Champagne) and the high end methode champenoise sparklers from California. It's more in the world of Moscato d'Asti, but not usually so sweet. Prosecco comes in a variety of styles. Christine and I enjoy it as a glass before dinner, an aperitif, when we dine out in Italian restaurants.

I don't really intend to write about wine here today, so I'll cut to the chase. Ms. Gaiter and Mr. Brecher have long enjoyed Prosecco. That wine has increased in popularity in recent years. And when they went to procure samples for their tasting, they discovered many more bottlings available than they had expected. They expressed nervousness about this in their article, speculating that rapid expansion of Prosecco production and distribution might have resulted in lower quality. In fact, their tasting revealed that the wines were better than they had expected, and better, overall, than they had tasted before. This despite increased production.

This made me think about the relationship of quality to demand and production as a bell curve, with quality on the vertical axis and volume on the horizontal axis. Except we need to think about volume as some amalgam of demand, quantity, focus, and expansion. Probably not quantifiable. But I think the bell curve thing is still an interesting way of thinking about this.

When little of something is available, and nobody is much interested, quality is probably not going to be that high. Nobody is paying much attention, and there's no competition. Occasionally, of course, some esoteric madman will focus attention on something nobody else cares about and create something fantastic. But if nobody's watching, so what?

If and when a little more focus and availability comes, enthusiasm and interest increase, as does competition, and overall quality begins to move up the curve of the bell. That jump upwards will bring more focus, interest, volume, etc, and quality will continue to improve as availability and enthusiasm continue to grow.

But there comes a point, either when availability and enthusiasm grow beyond some resource restriction, or when greedy businessmen decide they can make lots more (product and money) by compromising quality, when quality starts down the other side of the bell.

That's what Ms. Gaiter and Mr. Brecher were worried about with Prosecco. When they saw lots more, they worried that quality might be on the downward slope of the bell. They were pleasantly surprised to find that quality was still on the way up (or at the top, perhaps?).

That's the trick with anything, isn't it? Where are we on the bell curve of quality? And is it time (and possible) to find another bell curve to start up?

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

Quitting

I started out this morning knowing I was going to return a bunch of recently procured computer equipment and software. I woke up early, thinking about that.

"If it doesn't work as advertised," thought DAH, "I don't need it."

You've got to know when to quit. A corollary to knowing your strengths and weaknesses, knowing where you're smart and where you're dumb. Knowing when to pull the plug.

I'm decisive. I'm returning the stuff. I'm quitting.

I'd spent four hours on Sunday trying to set up a new home office wireless network. A Linksys wireless router that advertised "SETUP IN MINUTES" on its packaging.

Well, I suppose 240 minutes (4 hours) is, technically speaking, "MINUTES."

And, speaking of technically, I had many minutes of live on-line chat with Linksys tech support. The most interesting part of that process was when the support technician clearly lost track of what Linksys model we were supporting (I wonder how many of these chats they have open at one time?). He had me downloading and loading software updates for equipment I did not have, despite my telling him that. I guess he figured I was dumb. But he was sorry once the light finally dawned that the reason his fixes weren't working was because he was fixing some other model, not mine.

I finished tech support with the situation no better than when I'd begun (worse, actually). And the observation that the problem was with my computer, not the router.

"Well, I don't need a netbook I acquired specifically to make wireless connections if it can't even connect to my own wireless network," said DAH to Christine. "I quit. I'm sending it all back."

I sat down at my old computer this morning and started up to begin the return process on the new computer, peripherals and software. But my old computer could no longer connect to my wireless network. So, with two computers now unable to connect through the wireless router, my first "I quit" is for the router. It's going back to Office Max today.

And I still don't know if the new computer will connect to a wireless network. I guess I don't really know whether my old computer will connect to a wireless network. So I have to lug them off to find an internet hot spot to try them out.

This is no longer about knowing when to quit. Not just about knowing when to quit. Now it's about knowing what to quit, too.

I woke up this morning and thought I saw a clear path. In my mind, I did see a clear path. But the terrain kept shifting, or, more accurately, I couldn't really see the terrain or the path as clearly as I thought I could.

Isn't that the problem of life, really? We make decisions based upon the knowledge we have gathered. Sometimes we are diligent in collecting that knowledge, other times not so diligent. But our knowledge is almost always incomplete. Consequently, our decisions are often based on incomplete knowledge.

If we know this, we might avoid ever making decisions, out of fear that we don't yet know enough. Or we could begin making decisions rashly, figuring that more knowledge won't help.

Sometimes, it makes me want to quit.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

Casual Friday

Casual Friday! What does that mean if one works at home, as I do. Well, as I mostly do. I go out to meetings and occasionally travel out of town. But, most of the time, I'm sitting upstairs at my desk, next to my bedroom, with a view of Terrace Hill out one set of windows (on my right as I write this) and of San Luis Obispo and Bishop's Peak out the other set of windows (on my left as I write this).

If I'm not going out to a meeting, I'm usually wearing shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, and I'm often barefoot (but I'm not playing the ukulele, not while I work).

How much more casual can I be on a Friday?

Working from home is interesting. I've done it several times during my working-life. And sometimes I've had an office outside the home. An interesting thing about the digital age: As I've become ever-more computer oriented, and as computers and peripherals have become ever-smaller in their footprint, it's become ever-easier to work at home. I don't need much space, because I don't have much stuff. All is simplified, in a way, as work becomes mostly my skills, experience and mind applied via computer and telephone.

And I'm a pretty disciplined "work-at-homer" (DAH's a WAH!). I get up, shower, get coffee and get to work. I'm at my desk by 7:30 most mornings, and stop between 5:00 and 6:00 most afternoons. I eat lunch at my desk, and have to remind myself every day or two that I ought to get up and do something else. I try to get in a 2-3 mile walk most days, but I'm erratic about when. Just sometime during the day.

Staying focused isn't too hard. Christine is here, but is very respectful of my WAHness, even if she's working in the same space. And there's seldom anyone else here.

But I'm bad about taking breaks, and I'm really bad about taking vacations. The DAH WAH routine is so comfortable, I just keep doing it. Why should I need a break? And vacations just put me further behind. Who wants to leave for a week only to come back to a thousand new email messages?

I recently realized that if people weren't comfortable communicating by text, email or cell phone, I might not ever have a conversation with them. That seems likely to restrict my network, so I need to make more of an effort to meet people face to face, just to keep the world beyond my own nest alive in my head.

So, back to Casual Friday. My best current idea for this is that I ought to be sure and "break rhythm" (my DAH WAH rhythm) at least one work-day each week, just to stay fresh. Go out to lunch, take a walk somewhere different, plan to see a show that evening, or drive to the seashore.

That's my Casual Friday plan. To be a bit more casual, maybe even cavalier, with my DAH WAH routine.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

90 percent of being smarter is knowing what you're dumb at

I wish that was something I made up, but no. Credit's due the monkey-aphorism that popped up on WriteMonkey this morning. Another cool thing about WriteMonkey: Every time you start the program, you get a little lift from the aphorism that pops up.

My boss, Rich Hanen, has recently taken to telling people how smart I am. It's sort of a clever tactic. It let's them know that he doesn't think himself smarter than everyone else. And it flatters me. And it makes him look smart for hiring smart people.

"This guy's really smart," said Rich, to Vito Gambini when we met yesterday.

"And I don't talk too much," I added. "What does that mean?"

"It means you've got his back," smiled Vito.

And I do.

When I think about "90 percent of being smarter is knowing what you're dumb at" I think about knowing your weaknesses, and taking action based upon that rather important self-awareness.

There are three big DAH weaknesses that come immediately to my mind:
1. I'm too forgiving and understanding (a good trait with friends and family, a bad trait when others know this and take advantage);
2. I feel too much urge to just "do it myself" (that's DIM thinking, and I work hard to be a better delegater);
3. I have too strong a sense of "if it is to be it's up to me" (that's IIITBIUTM, and that's pointless - I'm just not that important).

Early in my "owning-my-own-business" days, when I was offering marketing assistance to all comers in the early 1990s, I decided I should do more of my own design work. I took a drawing class, and a graphic design class, and I equipped myself with all the software necessary. And I began providing my clients a soup-to-nuts solution to their promotional materials needs. I'd conceptualize, write, design, and manage production of brochures and newsletters and the like.

I was proud to be so DIM. But only for a little while.

Within the year I recognized that I wasn't skilled enough or quick enough for the design component of my business to make any sense. I could get more done, and make more money, by contracting with a graphic designer who had more skill and speed than me. I got smarter by recognizing where I was dumb.

In the theater, I got really distracted by the notion that I could do everything: write and direct and act and build sets and hang lights. That turned out to be impractical, too. I was a much more skilled writer, director and actor than I was a theater techie.

I value knowing something about the areas in which I'm "dumb." But I also appreciate knowing what those areas are (most of the time), and taking accordant action.

It's easy to hear the advice, "Focus on your strengths," and to understand and accept that advice.

It's more difficult to hear the advice, "Recognize and understand your weaknesses, but be careful about investing in remedying them."

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

Word Freak, And Not In A Good Way

Once more, "as many of you who have spent too much time with me will attest" (part of a series, sort of), I can get annoyingly distracted by words, especially words that seem as if they should have something in common, but don't.

This usually happens when there is no dictionary or computer or expert handy, so any person within listening range (Christine, in this case) gets to listen, participate, or tell me to "shut up" without recourse to actual facts.

This one started when we were driving. I was thinking about photos of the Davis High School Madrigal Choir at the Novato Renaissance Faire in the mid-1970s. Tom Estes had just posted a bunch of photos on Facebook. He must have a major "I must scan" mojo going.

So, thinking about people I knew in High School, I also remembered that some of them were dancers, and I remembered another photo with them all posed together wearing leotards.

"Leotard," I thought. Odd word. And, oh, yeah, "Unitard."

"So, if leotard and unitard both refer to something sort of similar, what does 'tard' mean?" I asked the helpless Christine.

"I don't know," she replied, sweetly, looking out the window.

"And custard. What does that have to do with them?" I wondered aloud.

"And mustard," added Christine, not too concerned at this point, apparently.

"And bastard and petard and retard." DAH was talking fast now (faster than normal, even). Increasing animation, while driving.

"I have no idea," said Christine. "Keep your hands on the wheel."

"Maybe it isn't 'tard' at all, but 'ard'," I mused, trying to settle down.

"Would you like me to drive?" asked Christine.

"Bard, card, yard, greensward." DAH continued.

"Greensward? What's that?" asked Christine.

"Oh, it's that grassy verge by the side of the road, pretty much." DAH.

"Oh." Christine.

"And then your backwoods boss arrives, worried about the economy and pissed off at you for something he screwed up, and tells you 'You're fard!" DAH.

"Shut up!" Christine.

DAH did. But I kept thinking about leotard, tard, ard. And today I Googled "word root tard" and actually found something. There was a conversation string on wordfreaks.tribe.net from 2004.

I found no real satisfaction there, but I did find amusement. Several of the participants in the conversation suggested that if you used "leotard" as the basis for your thinking, you could invent a story from ancient Rome, about a Slow Lion, then try to relate all tard words to that story.

I also found more tard words that I hadn't yet considered: bustard, costard, dastard, dotard, ritard, and (my favorite), Dynamitarde (some historical thing from 19th Century Germany - so, not an English word, so it shouldn't really count).

I also checked on the definition for greensward, just in case I spelled it wrong. I was correct about the spelling, but a little too restrictive in my definition. Ren Faire dancers need more room than the road-side verge provides, and where they might be injured by passing, excited drivers.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

Text Editors

I've been playing with text editors a bit lately. Well, playing is probably not the correct way to put it. I don't really have the time available to "play" with a text editor. So, if it doesn't do what I hope, right away, then I probably won't use it.

How did I get here? Well, I'm in one of my anti-Microsoft moods. Really, the only Microsoft program I like is Excel. And I've been using a program called PSPad to create plain text documents for blog posts and etc. But PSPad isn't really for writers. Not for the DAH kind of writer, anyway.

These things combined with the imminent delivery (tomorrow sometime) of my new netbook, a Samsung NC10. I thought that I'd try using minimal-resource programs to keep the netbook nice and snappy. If I can get on the web, do some writing, and an occasional spreadsheet, that small, highly portable computer will probably work great.

Resource-wise, I'm happy with gmail for DAH-personal and web-accessed Microsoft Exchange Server for my work email. Since Google calendars will now synchronize with my Microsoft Outlook calendar, I can take care of that online, too. I'll probably breakdown and add Excel to the netbook. I went back at Open Office, but it's more than I want, and a little clunky for me. Not the portability I was looking for.

And I worked with PSPad a bit, and got annoyed. So I went to the web to find a text editor that was built for writers rather than programmers. There are a variety of such beasts out there, it turns out, and I'm "playing" with two of them: Q10 and Writemonkey. I started this post on Writemonkey, got annoyed, and cut-pasted my work-in-progress to Q10.

Why use a text editor? Well, a simple text editor is going to be a pretty small program. It will start up quickly and use minimal system resources on a computer. Plus (and a primary reason for me), a good text editor won't horse-up my documents with lots of formatting that I don't want. Especially if I'm copying and pasting to the web. There's an unbelievable amount of background formatting applied in Microsoft Word. Stuff I don't want or need and can't be troubled to figure out how to shut off.

So, with Q10 and Writemonkey, I'm looking at a full-screen text editor. No window, nothking else going on. Just a big blank screen onto which I type words. Then I can decide what to do with the text (copy and paste into another program or onto a website, without worrying about a load of formatting following along).

My favorite part: Both Q10 and Writemonkey include a "progress bar" at the bottom or top of the screen. Tiny characters that tell you, as you type, how many words and pages and characters you've typed. I am usually writing to length, meaning I have a set number of words or characters to which I'm editing (or pre-editing, as I write). This "progress bar" feature is fabulous.

So, here's my problem. I like everything about Writemonkey better than Q10. Except that I can't get its progress bar to work. We'll see if the developer or someone from the Google-group for Writemonkey gets back to me with helpful tips.

In the meantime, I finished this up in Q10. Even though I can't get its spell check to work.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

Les Miserables at PCPA Theaterfest

Friday evening Christine and I took in "Les Miserables" at PCPA Theaterfest's 450 seat, thrust stage, Marian Theatre on the campus of Allan Hancock College in Santa Maria.

The theater is about a 30 minute drive south from our home in San Luis Obispo. Parking is ample and free. There were plenty of sportcoats (but no ties) in evidence in the audience. I felt mildly under-dressed in just shirtsleeves (well, plus the rest of the shirt, trousers, etc).

The run in Santa Maria is April 9 through May 10. Then the show transfers to open the summer season in the Solvang amphitheater (750 seats). It will play in Solvang from June 11 through July 12.

Things to know about "Les Miserables" (in DAH's opinion):

1. It's a musical by Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg. So it was originally in French. They also wrote "Miss Saigon."

2. The musical is based on the really long nineteenth century book by Victor Hugo. So the story line is a little melodramatic.

3. This is a pretty long show. One hour and forty minutes for the first act. Fifteen minute intermission. One hour and ten minutes for the second act.

4. It is sung through. That means that there is no dialogue, only singing. So some of the singing is recitative (not particularly melodic), just to advance the tale. Also, the music heightens the melodramatic aspects of the show. Singing "She's dead" will almost always sound more melodramatic than simply saying "She's dead."

The company at PCPA Theaterfest is a mix of Equity professional actors (members of the stage actors' union), non-equity professional actors, and student members of the PCPA conservatory.

The voices in this production were wonderful. Really, very very good. No weak performers. The staging was simple. I don't know what else they could have done, on a thrust stage with no time-outs for scene changes (the pace was pretty brisk, and there's lots of action in this show).

There were forty performers. When they were all on stage singing, it was pretty powerful.

Christine, who's seen "Les Mis" in San Francisco a couple of times, thought this was a very creditable production, lacking some of the production values possible in a larger venue (The barricade scenes were, perforce, performed on barricade sets only sixteen feet wide by twelve fee high. There was no room for anything larger). She also commented that some of the costuming looked slightly compromised. I was only disturbed by Javert's trousers being too blue under the lights, compared with his coat and vest. Wigs were also a little distracting on a couple of performers. But, with forty to wig and costume and mic, that isn't surprising.

The cast had this production down cold. They had to. The orchestra and conductor were not visible (thrust stage, no orchestra pit between the actors and the audience). If something had gone badly awry, they would have had to recover by ear only (with no visible conductor).

All in all, a delightful experience. We look forward to our next PCPA Theaterfest show: William Finn's "25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee" on July 3.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

Death of Voice Mail?

I read something the other day about the decline of voice mail. Well, let's just call it what it really is: The slow Death of Voice Mail. I hadn't really thought about it before, but now that I am I can see its inevitability.

When voice messaging appeared in the latter part of the last century, it was a godsend. If you missed the person you were calling, you could leave them your information anyway, in your own words. Fabulous!

Recently, however, I've been noticing that many people I call (maybe most people I call) return my call without listening to any voice message I've left for them.

"I saw you called," begins their call to me. "What's up?"

"I left you a message," I reply. "But since we're talking now I can just tell you and you can ignore it."

With most calls now coming to my cell phone, I can see whose calls I've missed, and decide whether or not to call them back. More than half the callers who miss me leave no message.

And most of those callers who miss me (and most of the callers who don't miss me) text me or send me an email message anyway. And I see their texts and email messages on my cell phone.

It is, in fact, much easier for me to deal with someone texting me with "Call me this afternoon" than it is for me to wait for the surprises in my voice mail. I hate having to listen through all the introductory voice mail stuff ("You have four new messages. First message, one minute 38 seconds, from phone number 555-555-5555, left at 4:30 PM today") , and then having to listen to someone ill-prepared to leave a coherent message, who gives me essential information too quickly at the beginning of their message, requiring that I replay the whole thing.

A lovely personal message from my wife or mother is something different. I'm happy to hear their voice, and appreciate their caring for me. But if I'm on my way shopping, and Christine (at home) wants me to pick up a carton of kefir at Trader Joe's, I'm more likely to get that message if she texts me.

My boss, Rich Hanen, gets his voice mail forwarded to his email. Sound files sent to his computer. Much easier to listen to, review, archive, etc. And now, with voice recognition technology getting better and better, you can simply read your messages.

Google Voice, built on the platform of Grand Central Communications (purchased by Google in 2007) uses speech-recognition technology to transcribe voicemails into text which can be forwarded via email or text message.

Some will complain that "we never talk anymore." Well, I'm happy to talk, in person or by phone. But when I get a phone message, particularly a business message, I'd rather have it written down, or texted to me, or emailed to me.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com