Define writer

Seems simple enough. A writer is a person who writes. Just like a drummer is someone who drums. So if you're drumming on your table at Starbucks, waiting for your venti half-caf with an extra shot of cream, does that make you a drummer? No, no it doesn't.

I take a lot of heat from my friends, who I call "real writers" because they are, about the fact I don't post to this blog with any kind of regularity. Clearly they've forgotten that I hold the well-earned title for the least disciplined writer they know. If it's any consolation, and I'm not sure why it should be, it's not the only thing I do without any regularity.

Saving money, buying new clothes, changing the oil in my car, good parenting. It's a long list.

At least when I do manage to have a thought rattling around and write about it, I usually have something to say. Usually being the operative word.

Anyway, I'd like to wrap up this post with some clever, snappy line. But to do that, I'd have to think about it more, and that might jeopardize my least disciplined writer status.

What I might do is take a second to go back over this post and see if there's anything I want to revise.

As I look at it, I think a good place to start would be the part about how I usually have something to say.

You shouldn't have

First, I'd like to send my sincere thanks to everyone for all your emails and notes asking why Rotation and Balance has been taking weeks between posts lately. All of us here at RNB International Headquarters have been deeply touched by your demonstration of enthusiasm for our blog, and your genuine concern why we haven't been posting more often.

Nah, I'm just funnin' ya. No one cared.

The truth is I could never put up another post, and the impact on your life would be zip. Zilch. Zero. And some other "Z" word.

Don't feel bad, as apparently you don't. I'm used to it. I work in advertising.

You wouldn't think it at first glance, but the product is essentially the same between this blog and advertising. When it's there, and it's clever or engaging on an emotional, humorous or intellectual level, you like seeing it.

But when it's not there you don't miss it at all.

It's a lot like my high school girlfriend that way.

At any rate, we've been undergoing an "organizational restructuring" here at the main office. Our editorial and contributing writer staff has been streamlined for better efficiency, more frequent postings and articles that you can relate to and that will help you find happiness in being your true self.

Oh, wait, that was the staff over at O. Disregard that.

What we've done here at RNB is fired all the planners wearing knit caps (for a good laugh, see what my pal and Round Seventeen auteur Rich Siegel thinks of knit caps). So the work should be more frequent and a lot better, even without their unique insights.

Here's hoping you'll (continue to?) enjoy the renewed, reinvigorated, recharged, re-tooled and some other "R" word Rotation and Balance.

My own best censor

If we can't censor ourselves, who can we censor?

I was trying to think of something to post, and I started scrolling down my list of already published posts. Sprinkled throughout that list are drafts that I either started and never finished, or finished and never published.

The constant debate in the blogosphere is whether to self-police our posts, or just throw it all out there, consequences be damned. I've done both. But now I tend to be a little more discerning about the posts I publish.

I'd like to think the reason for this is that I've grown and matured as both a writer and blogger, and can see the value of being more selective in my writing.

Nah, I'm just messin' with ya. I just don't want to look like an ass.

Like most bloggers, I've occasionally used this forum to take after people and agencies in a big, bad, vicious kind of way. And I still say every one of them earned it. The problem is just because they've earned it doesn't mean I have to be the one dishing it out to them.

Almost always, having no filter leads you on the road to oblivion with both friends and potential employers (never a good thing for a freelancer).

If a friend of yours is wearing a hideous shirt - Tommy Bahama comes to mind - and you tell them, you've certainly told the truth. But to what end? What have you accomplished by it?

Now, this is not to say that every once in awhile I don't enjoy not only burning a bridge, but spreading dried leaves over it, some kindling wood then dousing it with gasoline and torching it. It can be very rewarding - but only if you're sure you're never coming back across that bridge again.

I've written posts, taken them down, then written apologies for having posted them in the first place. I used to dig my feet in and say, "It's my blog and I'll say what I want."

But, much like Jules in Pulp Ficition, it appears I'm in a transitional period.

For now

Not that anyone's noticed - and really, if you have then you're concentrating on the wrong things in life - but I haven't posted anything here in a couple weeks.

The reason, surprisingly enough, isn't laziness. Or lack of time. It's much simpler than that.

I haven't felt strongly enough about anything to go on a tear about it. Not that there haven't been things to feel strongly about - I'm just not feelin' it.

Plus, being the freelancer I am, the time off from the responsibility of coming up with something every day is very liberating. Doing nothing gives me more time to do nothing. What can I say? It's a skill.

So in the meantime, if you want to fill the empty void in your soul and spend some quality time with another clever, insightful, extremely well-written blog, please to enjoy my pal Rich Siegel's musings over at Round Seventeen. For a while now, Rich and I have had a friendly competition to see who could put up more blog posts in a year. Despite an early lead at the beginning of the year, I knew I was nowhere near as prolific as he is. It's official Rich (as if it wasn't before) - you win.

This isn't goodbye. It's just "I don't feel like doing it." for now.

I'll be back eventually. Probably after I'm rested, refreshed and tanned from our annual trip to the Hotel Del Coronado.

So mark your calendars for the end of August, and have yourself a fine what's left of summer.

Don't forget to write. I won't.

Next

On the menu bar at the top of this blog, just like every other Blogger blog, is a nav link like the one above (although not nearly as pixelated). It's kind of like Amazon's "You might also be interested in..." feature. It's the eHarmony of blog sites. It's the match.com of blogspot.com

You see where I'm going here.

I don't know if you've ever clicked on it, but I have a few times. I'm not quite sure what algorithm design they use to make the connection between one blog and the next.

But let me just say this. If you like ROTATION AND BALANCE - and what's not to like? - the "next blog" button tells me that, for reasons only it knows, you might also be interested in:

A blog that actually means something

In this April 13, 2011 photo, Jessica Rees, 12, of Rancho Santa Margarita, Calif. shows "Joy Jars" she delevoped. Buyers get a t-shirt inside a jar and then fill the jars with "Joy" and pass them on to someone else. The proceeds go to pediatric cancer research. Rees, 12, who started a blog and a Facebook page to raise awareness about child cancer has died of brain tumors. Her family says Jessica died Thursday, Jan. 5, 2012 after a 10-month battle with cancer.

One reason I have a tough time coming up with a couple posts a week for this blog is because of the randomness of the subject matter. I'm sure you've noticed the posts here seem to wander aimlessly from topic to topic. They lack focus. Just like their author.

This wasn't a problem 12-year old Jessica Rees had with her blog. From beginning to the sad end, it was about her brave fight with brain cancer.

The words she lived by - never ever give up - were the inspiration for the NEGU Foundation which builds awareness and support for kids with cancer.

I'm in awe of children with cancer. I've seen the TV specials with afflicted kids, some with hair but many without because of the chemo, and marvel through my tears at how positive and brave they all are. I realize you never know what you can handle until you get there, but I think the safe bet is I'd be something considerably less than a positive example of how to deal with a terminal illness.

People who know me, feel free to double down on that bet.

When I think about accomplishments, I think about the tacos, cars, packaged goods, electronics and other items I've helped sell during my career. And I think about what impact or meaning it has on anyone's life. It's a thought you shouldn't let cross your mind if you work in advertising - there's no percentage in it.

Jessica Rees accomplished more that matters in her brief 12 years than I have or will in a lifetime.

She knew it wasn't necessary to be a hero to inspire people. And she knew you could become one just by being brave and wanting to do good in the world.

I'm going to try to remember that.

So many blogs, including this one, are often so self centered. I suppose it's the nature of a blog. But it's also why it's so startling to see one so selfless.

It's not possible to know how many lives will be positively affected by her having been here. But when I read about her, and I least expected it, mine was.

Rest in peace Jessica.

Around the block

It's not hard to tell I'm not the world's most prolific writer/blogger. I'm also not the world's thinnest, but hey, who the f#&@ asked you?

I'd like to blame it on writer's block, but that would be too easy an out. Let's just call it for what it is: I've been a slug for the last couple of weeks.

In the time since I last posted, my friend Rich posted eight times to his blog. I'm constantly amazed at not just the quantity, but the quality of his posts. A prolific, thoughtful, humorous writer saying the many things that need to be said. That or a desperate cry for attention. You make the call.

Whichever, I should probably take a page from his book (I'd have to take a page from his book cause obviously I'm not writing any books of my own). I need to post more regularly.

I think if you start a blog, there's a responsibility to keep it fresh and interesting. Give the readers something new almost every time they visit. Of course, that pre-supposes I have readers. And now that I think about it, no one but me seems particularly upset there hasn't been a post in two weeks. Crap. That's motivating.

And the pisser is it's not like there aren't things to talk about. Penn State. Ashton and Demi. Iranian nuclear facilities that Israel is going to take out. Herman "No that's not a cigar, I am happy to see you" Cain. iPad 3. iPhone 5. Chinese spacecraft (launch one capsule and in a half hour you want to launch another one). The reopened Natalie Wood death investigation. That guy who took a shot at the White House. Justin Bieber.

Okay. Maybe not Justin Bieber.

Anyway, even if it's just for my own well-being, even if supply exceeds demand, I'm going to post more often.

It's like Lawrence Kasdan said, "Being a writer is like having homework every night for the rest of your life."

I was never very good at homework either.

My unlikely friend Mel

My friend Mel - short for Melissa - had the can tied to her at Yahoo this week, along with the rest of her department. I felt a literal pang of sympathy when I heard about it. Everyone in advertising has been through it and we all know what it feels like.

If you get laid off in advertising all it means is you showed up.

Anyway, it was interesting to me for two reasons: first, now there might be freelance work at Yahoo (see what I did there?). And second, sympathizing with Mel for this or any other reason isn't something I would've ever pictured myself doing not that long ago.

I always read my close, personal friend Janice's blog. I noticed on virtually every post she'd get a comment from someone named Mel, who I'd never heard of and she'd never mentioned despite the fact she was my office wife at Y&R. Come to find out Mel was a friend she used to work with.

Anyway, Mel would constantly leave comments on Janice's posts. Comments I'd often disagree with. Comments I'd almost always be compelled to comment on, usually in that subtle and tactful way anyone who knows me has come to expect. (btw, still waiting for that "unsend" button.)

Suffice to say it wasn't always the most positive or friendly feedback.

Eventually this back and forth got so heated, the three of us decided to meet for dinner so we could each see who was behind the comments. Needless to say, I approached the dinner cautiously (insert joke about me "approaching food cautiously for the first time in my life" here).

Long story short - although I have a feeling it may be too late for that - is that we all had a great dinner and Mel and I hugged it out.

Now I read her blog regularly, and we're pals online, through the occasional email and probably in real life if and when our paths cross again.

It's amazing what you can discover about a person once you give yourself and them a chance. Since I've gotten to know Mel a bit I see how many great things she has to offer.

In fact, there are two things in particular I really like about her: how often she reads my blog, and how often she comments on it.

Ironic ain't it.

Lack of discipline

Yeah, whatever.

I joke a lot about being the least disciplined writer you know. The only reason I do this is because I'm the least disciplined writer you know.

My friend Rich, an excellent, prolific writer and blogger in his own right recently reprimanded me for not posting more often to my blog. To which I think, "Hey hey, slow down there Shakespeare, we can't all do four posts a week."

I know he means well, and he's paying me a compliment by wanting to read more of my posts. But the truth is, well, the truth is I'm the least disciplined writer you know. Yet when I'm working at a real job, I always deliver.

That's because all the zeros on those checks sure are pretty. And I've always been a sucker for a check that clears. Don't get me wrong, I don't just do jobs for money. I do them for the love. The love of the money.

So, I'll try harder. I'll start posting more. I'll tear down this wall (Reagan would be so proud) and stop censoring myself. I will post the things I don't think I should post.

I'll get right on it. Tomorrow.

The 101st Post

If you know anything about me, you know I'm one of the least disciplined writers around. Even if you didn't know anything about me, you could probably tell that from the infrequency of posts to this blog.

I'm easily, very easily, distracted when I finally make the hair-pulling, angst-ridden decision to actually sit down and write something. Shiny objects. New episode of Dexter. Cold pizza in the fridge. Run to the newsstand (to see what other writers are writing). Catching up on phone calls. Changing batteries in the smoke detectors. Folding laundry. Gassing up the car.

Pretty much anything really.

Since I'm pretty sure no one expected me to get this far, least of all me, I imagine the fact I've completed a 100 posts to this blog won't be a big deal to many people.

Like my friend Rich, who's written over 366 posts since starting his blog. Or my friend, former office wife and partner in snark Janice, who's written over 312 posts since she started her blog.

Here's the difference: they're both disciplined writers who set out with a goal to accomplish a certain number of posts in a certain amount of time.

I know, crazy talk right?

But damned if they didn't. And if that's not crazy enough, now that they've both reached their goal, to the pleasure of myself and the rest of their readers, they're going to continue on with their angry, brave, humorous, insightful, intelligent, revealing, fun to read, fun to talk about blogs.

Truthfully, I'm kind of happy with my little accomplishment here. But I do realize that if I ever hope to catch up with them I'd better get writing.

Right after I get some coffee.

Nighthawks at the Starbucks

Friday night arrived like a bleached blonde actress late for a premiere. I was glad she showed, but wondered what took her so long.

As I sipped on a something-cino at one of my branch offices of Starbucks, I decided to put the time to good use, open my laptop and work on this post. I didn’t have any idea what I wanted to say, but if I let that stop me I’d never post anything.

I paused a minute and realized I wasn’t the only sucker in the joint with an open laptop. The difference was mine was taking dictation, and theirs were taking orders that would never be served on dreams that would never come true.

It was late. Raining. The streets were slicker than the people driving them. Even so, you couldn’t see their reflections. Vampires don’t have any.

Looking out the floor to ceiling window, I appreciated how Edward Hopper-esque the view was from the outside looking in. Outside looking in. A point of view most of these night crawlers were used to.

The difference was Hopper was an artist. I was just a guy with a blog to write.

Still, all that foam and froth and rain and false hope put me in a mood. The kind people keep telling me to snap out of.

I don't know if it was the rain or the caffeine, but I decided it was time to rattle the cage. My cage. Clear the webs out of the corners and quiet the critics in my head. It was going to be a departure, designed to have people take notice. Deliberate. Some might say calculated. I never cared what they said. Why start now?

Serious. Thought provoking. No easy jokes. No witty entendres. It was going to be a thought piece, something pining the state of the human race and it’s puny significance in the bigger scheme of things. They say write what you know. I work in advertising don’t I?

Friday night had greatness about it. Potential. I’d seen it before once when it was passing through. But this time it brought luggage. It was planning to stay for a while.

Well, did you buy it? Nah, didn’t think so. Just funnin’ with you. Thought provoking? Please. Like you come here for that.

No, it’s just going to be the usual random, Andy Rooney like crap you’ve come to expect.

Anyway, the post you’re reading right now is not the one I posted from Starbuck’s. I didn’t post it from there because out of 7,000 Starbuck's I pick the one where the free wi-fi goes out. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Gone with the wind.

This Starbuck’s was near a college (aren’t they all?), so there were a lot of laptops open and struggling to find a connection. Just like their owners. (BAM! Insight on the human condition – deal with it!).

At first I thought I was the only one who couldn’t get on the interwebs. But as I looked around, I saw the equally frustrated expressions on the faces of my late night coffee companions.

Anyway, wrote this while I was there. Then posted it today, Saturday. From another Starbuck's.

Thought provoking, no?

No.

The new post is here! The new post is here!

Blogs are like Rosie O'Donnell at Hometown Buffet. They're never quite finished.

When I started this one, I could hardly wait to excitedly tell all my friends about it. Naturally it was my hope - dare I say expectation - they'd drop whatever insignificant thing they were doing at that particular moment and read it.

And really, why wouldn't they? I'd do it for them. But the painful truth is I've always been more of a giver and the better friend in these relationships.

I might be getting off topic here.

Could it be that blogging is now the tech equivalent of home movies? Is it possible no one really wants to read each and every post I publish? Can the technique of asking a question to get the reader more involved ever be overused?

Friends and family all try to be nice and cushion the brush-off with something polite like, "Cool. I'll take a look at it later."

It's completely understandable.

First of all, there's only so much time in the day to be reading blogs. And while at last count there were over a bazillion blogs, only a few are really saying anything worth reading.

I think that problem could be solved if it weren't so easy to start a blog.

As it is now anybody with a keyboard, an internet connection and a bad idea can have a blog up and running in minutes. It needs to be harder than that. If it were, we could thin the herd and only people who really had something to say would be blogging. We'd have a lot fewer people posting family pics and talking about what they had for breakfast and why they liked it.

After all that's what Facebook is for.

Then there's choosing a subject matter. Many blogs have a theme appealing to particular interests. Which is fine, except that kind of segmentation narrows the already over-estimated audience too much (Can you tell I'm in advertising?). I've managed to avoid that pitfall by taking a completely random approach to the subjects I post about.

Much in the same way I do with my career. Or paying my bills.

Another important thing is to have someone read over your post before you publish, for typos and to make sure it makes sense and says what you want it to say. In fact I just asked my wife to have a look at this post.

She said, "Cool. I'll take a look at it later."

Inspiration is where you find it

Even though I explain it right there under the title, many people still ask me where I got the name for my blog.

You're looking at the answer.

Each time I get asked the question, it makes me think about how inspiration is lurking all around us.

It's like the joke about the guy who's on the roof during a flood. A helicopter comes to rescue him and he says no, God is going to save him. Then a boat comes by to rescue him, but he refuses saying God is going to save him. Of course, the floodwaters rise and he dies. When he gets to heaven he asks God why he didn't save him. God says, "What do you mean? I sent you a helicopter and a boat!"

Inspiration is like that. Even though it's right in front of us, sometimes we have trouble recognizing it for what it is. I run up against this each time I sit down and think about what I want to write. But then, I open my eyes and suddenly there's no shortage of subjects to write about.

Another great thing about inspiration is that it can spur us on to accomplish things we wouldn't normally think we could. For example, this morning I saw lots of thin, healthy people out walking and jogging. And I was inspired. So I went to Starbuck's, had a large Mighty Mango smoothie and a thick slice of banana walnut bread, and thought for a long time about how tired all those thin, healthy people were going to be when they finished.

Couldn't help myself, I was inspired.

Here's another example. Just yesterday morning I saw people leaving their homes and going to work. It made me think about what it'd be like to have a full time job to go to everyday. The same office day in and day out. The same people. The same conversations, same meetings and same fights day after day, year after year. After a while, I did more than think about it. I was inspired, so I immediately changed my job title from freelance copywriter to Free Time Management Engineer, and just like that (snaps fingers) I had a full time job.

And, not bragging here, I'm damn good at it.

I hope this post has inspired you to look around, take in what you see, create ideas and then put them into action through words and deeds. I know just writing it has inspired me.

I'm going to take a nap.