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For my blog posting today, I want to consider Seth Godin’s own posting, from February 18 (2015). It raises the crucial issue of politics in marketing and communications or in any kind of cultural work.

My comments will follow this long citation, after the crosses, below:

“Kicking and screaming (vs. singing and dancing)

Unfair things happen. You might be . . . demoted for a mistake you didn’t make, convicted of a crime you didn’t commit. The ref might make a bad call, an agreement might be abrogated, a partner might let you down.

Our instinct is to fight these unfairnesses, to succumb if there’s no choice, but to go down kicking and screaming. We want to make it clear that we won’t accept injustice easily, we want to teach the system a lesson, we want them to know that we’re not a pushover.

But will it change the situation? Will the diagnosis be changed, the outcome of the call be any different?

What if, instead, we went at it singing and dancing? What if we walked into our four-year prison sentence determined to learn more, do more and contribute more than anyone had ever dreamed? What if we saw the derailment of one path as the opportunity to grow or to invent or to find another path?

This is incredibly difficult work, but it seems far better than the alternative” (Godin, February 18, 2015).

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If you read my e-newsletter, or even my blog, you’ll know that I regularly find food for thought in American marketer Seth Godin’s books, articles and blogs. He writes provocatively about such issues as the psychology of marketing and communications. He has much to say about contemporary culture and not only marketing. For instance, in my mid-February issue of my newsletter ( www.elizabethshih.com/newsletter), I wrote a précis of his new book, What To Do When It’s Your Turn (and it’s always your turn) (2014). There I focused on his arguments on creativity, fear, failure and risk.

In that issue, the only criticism I make (and it wouldn’t surprise Godin) is that he tends to bracket off political realities (tragedies such as untimely death, extreme poverty and the like). These realities would challenge his arguments for how to create culturally in the world’s new (21^st century, high-tech) economy.

So in the blog that I cite in full above, I find it crucial that he does acknowledge fully the “unfairnesses” that life in this new economy often brings (see his first paragraph, above).

Godin polemically sides in such cases with the attitude and action of “singing and dancing” (more than “kicking and screaming”) our way through life’s intractable difficulties. His doing so emphasizes the importance of new creative cultural work. And he acknowledges that doing such innovative work in context of the tragedies and losses of contemporary life is “incredibly difficult.”

I want to suggest something that is not radical, but that nonetheless bears mentioning.  The binary between the “kicking and screaming” and the “singing and dancing,” is, as Derrida has said for generations, is a false one. The two polarized concepts do bear some relation to each other. No, they are emphatically not identical and their differences must not be ignored. But the terms do bear relation: if we are in fact to go on creating great art through periods of great personal or cultural struggle, we have to do both the “kicking” and the “singing.” (We need what post-modernists and post-structuralists in the 90’s called a “both-and,” not an “either/or”)

Yes, eventually survivors of devastation or tragedy may recover. And, in time, they may find the space to “sing and dance” again. But not before they deal with their realities, which require us first to “go down kicking and screaming.” We must oppose the injustices that are inflicted on us (or that fall to us, randomly). We do first need to show that we’re “not  pushovers.” We cannot afford to be passive or learned helpless.

But the “diagnosis” and “outcome” will never be stopped if we give in to thinking, as Godin says, that the “diagnosis” won’t be any different. This thinking veers into political quietism that Godin is vulnerable to.

What he refers to as “incredibly difficult” work is to live through the injustices, protest loudly, advocate powerfully against those who value money more than human life (or whatever the issues are). AND then move on to creating and working again, with energy renewed.

What I’m saying here, of course, isn’t new. Betty Friedan famously said in the 1960s that “the personal is political.” Godin knows this. But he understates it and even obscures it, as in his blog posting above. He leaves it for lesser writers and readers like us to fill in the gaps. But it’s a gap that is too easily drowned out in the noise of contemporary (high-tech, mobile-friendly) culture. I fear and dread quietism (and if you don’t, you should, too).

So my call-to-action in this blog is to be vigilant about what gurus like Godin often bracket off.  Don’t forget about the world’s injustices, so that unethical companies, organizations and people can perpetrate them. Don’t give in to thinking opposition is futile. If we don’t protest tyranny and genocide, there will be no one left to do it.

In opposition and creativity, we will find that the very forces we must protest may furnish the creativity and ideas that we ultimately need to make art (to “sing and dance”).

We cannot afford to separate these values.

Both we (our collective cultures) and our art will be the better for it.

 Lately, the colloquial expression “kind of” proliferated conversation at a networking event that I attended. It was uttered and passed from one person to another, until I had heard it several times. It seemed like it was arising when people communicated under social pressure (and perhaps a drink or two?). “Kind of” is a cousin of those other irritants: “like” (which stems from “Valley Girl speak”) “you know,” “and so on,” and “or whatever,” to name a few.

American etymologist Bryan Garner (in “Garner’s Tip of the Day” from Oxford University Press) has heard it enough that he writes that “kind of” is a poor substitute for “somewhat,” “rather,” “somehow,” and similar adverbs. (He says that it properly functions as a noun, however, to signify a category or class in phrases such as “this kind of paper.” But that’s not the use that I’m observing, here.)

The sloppy adverb phrase (“kind of”) is the more common of these two uses, as in “I took the screwdriver and kind of pried the door open.”

Garner notes that if that wasn’t colloquial enough, there is a derivative usage. I even heard it recently on the local, nightly news! The derivative is “kind of a.”  

Garner says that “with this phrasing, not only is the ‘a’ unnecessary, it is also typical of” what he calls “uncultivated speech.” He says that “It depends on what kind of vacation you want,” is preferable to “It depends on what kind of a vacation you want.” (In the former example, here, the phrase functions as a noun, which is acceptable. The derivative “kind of a” Garner detests.)

Like most writers, I prefer silence to verbiage. I’d rather (not “kind of”) hear a speaker pause in conversation (especially if it’s to think) than hear him or her fill the air with sloppy colloquialisms. Most speakers are not stupid–I think they give in too quickly to the pressure to fill silence, without taking the necessary time to think about what have to say.

Do you notice yourself using “kind of” or “kind of a?” Pause when you think of them. You’re entitled to take the time to think and speak better!

Please write to me with your “pet peeves” of English usage! I continue to appreciate that Garner challenges to us to speak, read and write English as well as possible.

 

I’m always taken aback by people who assume that freelancing is a “get rich quick” career move. Recently, I met someone who defined “rich” as “making at least a hundred grand a year.” He defined “quick” as “within six months” of starting.

Viewing “riches” otherwise, however, as the marketing guru Seth Godin does in a recent blog, provides a mental checklist for the kind of “wealth” that  freelancers (in my experience) often desire. This kind of wealth would mean genuinely connecting with others over a long period of time. They might use one’s product or service over months and years, not days. This would not be about making a fast buck.

Freelance work enriches my life. It also enables me to enrich others’ by the alternative standards that Godin proposes. In the following statements, the bolded text is his. My thoughts follow, in parentheses.

 Enrich your world by creating value for others. (Write a blog or an e-newsletter that informs and entertains on a topic pertaining to your business.)

Enrich your health by walking twenty minutes a day. (Visit the local riverbank or better yet, a conservatory where plants and flowers bloom, even through a Canadian winter.)

Enrich your community by contributing to someone, without keeping score. (Share a nutritious lunch with someone who lacks one.)

Enrich your relationships by saying what needs to be said. (Speak to a somewhat difficult neighbour whose behaviour could risk others’ safety.)

Enrich your standing by trusting someone else. (Share some of your career experiences with a newbie freelancer, whose friendship you value.)

Enrich your organization by doing more than you’re asked. (Give something back to a mentor who regularly offers support to you.)

Enrich your skills by learning something new, something scary. (In 2015, write in a format and media that are new to you.)

Enrich your productivity by rejecting false shortcuts. (Read business building books to think and blog about current issues, instead of frequently repurposing others’ blogs. Note to self: the irony of suggesting that in this blog posting isn’t lost on me!)

Enrich your peace of mind by being trusted. (Hear a client say she’ll plan her work around your schedule, because she likes what you do.)

The connection economy pays dividends in ways that the industrial one rarely did. I can think of several local freelancers who contribute as much as I do, when I think over these points.

My call-to-action to you (even if you aren’t a freelancer) is to think how you can use your place in the “connection economy” to enrich your and others’ lives. In doing so, you’ll leave the post- industrial economy behind. The challenge is more demanding than ever, but so is the reward. (And that comes from me, although it sounds like Seth himself.)

[Bolded material posted by Seth Godin May 01, 2014]

Visiting Seth Godin’s What to Do When It’s Your Turn (and it’s always your turn)  (2014):

“Today we have the chance to do work that’s far more pleasant [than in our past] and involves more freedom. And the only one stopping us from doing this work – is us” (Godin 66).

In his most recent (self-published) book, marketing guru Godin argues that motivation, self-discipline, finding support, getting “in the mood” to do work are all excuses. They are mythologies that limit our capacities to step up and “take our turns.” He says: “It’s not about standing in the right light. It’s not about being in the right moment to let the muse arrive. It’s not about figuring out how to be comfortable enough to do the work. . . . In fact, we’re capable of creating work that matters only if we’re willing to be uncomfortable while we do it” (45).

Discomfort, fear, suffering, pain are part of every creative’s life. (And non-creatives’ lives, too). We should consider that opportunities to create something significant, individually and freely can make a difference to others. And make a difference to the world. We won’t always succeed, but as Godin says, “Failure is almost never as bad as we fear it will be, but it’s our fear that we feel, not the failure” (63).

Fear itself is what many of us are afraid of. It’s uncomfortable, off-putting and focusing on it makes it loom larger. When we try to fight it, we are in fact frightening ourselves, effectively harassing ourselves with fear. (Consider that most of us would never treat others in such a way, but we do it regularly to ourselves—fear mongering.)

But that’s not to say that notions of “courage” and “bravery” are any more real than the mythology of “motivation” and “getting in the mood.” So Godin argues. As creatives, we need to feel the fear but do the work anyway. (And no, the book with a similar title doesn’t address this problem.) When we acknowledge the fear, and then try to ignore it as best we can (distracting ourselves from it), the art of doing something valuable or influential feels possible. But no, it still won’t be comfortable.

Godin’s new book, What To Do When It’s Your Turn,  provides many insights on failure and fear in relation to creativity. Some of these I’ll feature in future blog postings and e-newsletters.

As you continue your creative work in this new year, ask yourself this? In what ways can you experience fear and the potential for failure without retreating into myths or creative paralysis?