Speechwriters who want to become ghost bloggers,
check out today's WSJ

Four percent of U.S. companies have public blogs, according to a story in today's Wall Street Journal.

That means 96 percent of U.S. companies have a marketing VP who's telling the CEO he's "looking into it" and wondering, "Where am I going to find some jamoke who wants to write about our company or industry every day?"

The piece also says, "Blogs allow firms to assume a natural tone rather than the public-relations speak typical of some static Web pages, and readers are often invited to post comments."

If you can convince an organization you can write in that natural tone (and convince the organization to let you do it) you can make $50,000-$70,000, according to the WSJ piece.

Best off all, according to the piece, "Prior blogging experience isn't necessary."

Get in while the getting's good.

SN editor tells potential client he wants to write
only speeches that communicate

A couple weeks ago a mildly frantic-sounding woman called and e-mailed to tell me the president of her global insurance company was looking for a freelance speechwriter.

Before flipping through my mental Rolodex of freelance speechwriters I could recommend, I asked her for some details about the president's previous experiences with speechwriters, his needs, his expectations, etc.

I didn't hear back from her for a week.

When I did hear back, she informed me that I was one of the three finalists for the job!

She added that the president himself would provide all the details in a telephone interview and could I do that interview tomorrow.

I said I could, and asked myself: Did I really want to do this job? The answer was, No—unless this could be a truly special speechwriting relationship.

After we got the pleasantries out of the way and talked a little bit about our backgrounds, I told him I don't take a lot of speechwriting assignments. And I told him why: "In my experience, lots of speechwriting is done for speakers who are giving speeches as favors to audiences they don't know awfully well and to whom they don't have focused messages to deliver."

I told him I don't consider myself adept at writing such speeches and added furthermore, that I had little interest in learning how to write such speeches.

He couldn't have agreed with me more! He said he very much appreciated me for saying what I'd said about the proper nature of speech communication. He even repeated my little speech in his own words and added that he'd felt this way for a long time.

And after a few more affable moments during which we both recognized that I wasn't the guy for the job, we happily hung up—executive communication soul mates, going our separate ways.

Words that only appear in newspapers should never appear in newspapers

It's Monday and I'm in a bad mood. So what do you get? A rant, from left field.

There's a joke here in Chicago that the word "Chicagoland"—meaning Greater Chicago and invented, as near as we can tell, by the Chicago Tribune—is a newspaper-only word. Even the weatherman is embarrassed to say "Chicagoland" out loud.

A good way to get a quick chuckle in a Chicago bar is to tell people you're the greatest [blank] "in all Chicagoland."

(Another great way to get a quick laugh in Chicago is to say, "You haven't been young since Lincoln was an alderman.")

No mind: I've been used to Chicagoland since Lincoln was alderman.

But I'm getting sick and tired of this headline, which seems to appear in the business section of every newspaper in the U.S. every day of the week: "XYZ company is burnishing its image."

First of all, why say "burnish," when no one any longer "burnishes" anything besides their image? People "polish" their cars, their shoes, their dinner tables and their good silver.

If you remarked that a friend's brass banister was shiny and he replied that he just burnished it yesterday, you might draw some unhappy conclusions about that friend and his prissy fixations.

Lately, the company often inevitably to be "burnishing" its image is Wal-Mart. Like most companies said to be "burnishing" their images, Wal-Mart's "image" is in need of more than a vigorous shine-up. Powerful critics are questioning company's very right to do business, and Wal-Mart's counterpunches are feeble so far.

As final word on this unwelcome Monday rant on image-burnishing, I offer you the old cliché: say:

You can't burnish a turd.

CEO speech-preparation: As pointless as the National Spelling Bee?

Every year, the U.S. media goes nuts covering the highlights of the National Spelling Bee, and every year, Chicago Sun-Times columnist Neil Steinberg calls the event "child abuse." From this year's screed on the subject:

"Forcing children to memorize freakish words that no actual writer would use under any circumstances imaginable is a terrible travesty—why not encourage them to memorize the digits of pi instead and spew them back on demand? The process would hardly change. Yes, some children are gulled, and have a moment of pride and victory because of the bee. But a childhood is a terrible thing to waste …."

I agree with Steinberg, and the documentary Spellbound, about several kids preparing for the National Spelling Bee only reinforced my view.

You know what the whole farce reminds me of? Speechwriters pleading with their executives take time out of their schedule to rehearse a speech that the speechwriter didn't want to write, that the executive doesn't want to give, that the audience does not really want to hear, but that must come off smoothly, else everyone will be embarrassed.

Speechwriting and corporate rhetoric would be so much better if it was done only when people had something to say to people with something they needed to hear.

Alas, most speeches wind up as little more than spelling bees for grown-ups.

At most speech events, the bland politeness of corporate mores shields us from the honest reactions of our audience. But the reactions are there, nonetheless. And they are profound, even when they're hushed.

I was reminded of this truth at a community meeting in my neighborhood in Chicago. It's an old Italian neighborhood熔ne that has seen lots of trouble over the years, with street gangs, drugs and poverty.

The veteran neighborhood stalwarts have been through so much, in fact, that they're not overly concerned by the gentrification that brings the likes of me into the neighborhood is the least of their troubles. As one old guy told me, "We used to worry about shootings. Now we're worried about people picking up after their dogs in the park. I think we're making progress."

And still, there's that dog issue. That was what the meeting was about. That was the issue we were meeting over.

At this meeting, the attractive, confident, well-spoken thirty-something head of the Chicago Park District's intergovernmental affairs department葉he woman who works with the city and the county and the state on behalf of the parks妖iscredited herself in a way that was both spectacular and painfully common.

In her remarks, she told the group預bout 20 people evenly split between new residents and old葉hat what we really needed was to form a local Advisory Council, so that she would know who to deal with regarding these issues.

Without an Advisory Council, she said, "I have no way of knowing who to go to."

At this, the wizened residents erupted.

"I've been gardening in that park for 20 years!"

"I've been on the Eckert Park board for 25 years!"

"I've been the precinct captain in this ward through four aldermen!"

How dare this pretty young thing tell these people she doesn't know who to deal with regarding the park we have lived beside, maintained and protected for decades!

The woman shrugged and said she deals with more than 300 similar communities in Chicago, and implied that she couldn't be expected to know the leaders in each one without a formal Advisory Council.

It is probable that this woman has similarly enraged the elder residents of every one of those 300 communities with her shrugging stupidity; and it's probable that she walks away from each of these meetings with a smirking opinion that: All people think about is themselves.

Unlike CEOs, who are often not told when they trounce on the audience's ego, this Park District official hears it straight. The trouble is, she doesn't listen妖oesn't really understand what it is like to feel long-term ownership of a humble neighborhood and then be told by some whippersnapper Parks official she doesn't know who in the hell you are.

The lesson for speechwriters and speakers: When speaking to audiences who have had a stake in the issue for longer than you have, it is impossible to be too deferential預nd perhaps also impossible to be deferential enough.

This blog item is inappropriate on at least two levels: One, it doesn't have anything to do with speechwriting or rhetoric. Two, it comes on a Monday, a day when it's important to be on point.

But this question just won't wait. Of my predominantly female audience of speechwriters and corporate communication professionals, I must ask today:

Why do women act like girls when they are together?

(The same question could be asked of men, I know, but that's not the topic at the moment.)

Late last week my wife got an invitation to a party, from our new neighbor Nancy:

Pardon the informal lack of pen and ink,
But I wanted to send this a quick as a blink . . .

The move in December pushed me to the brink,
But since then all has gone smoothly, nary a kink
So, please come over and see what you think—
At a chicks only celebration for a nosh and a drink,

Saturday, June 25th, 2:00 p.m.– 6:00 p.m.

Oh! and please,
Come looking "Pretty in Pink!"

I think it's fair to assume she chooses friends from in or around her own station in life. Here are some of their responses to the "pretty in pink" invite:

• What a cute invite. Love the wording and will be there!

• I'll be there! I'll round up something pink by then!

• Wow! A pink shopping oportunity! I'll be there with pink bells on!

• I'm tickled pink that you invited me.

• I would not think of missing a chance to wear pink.

• I'll be there. And I have a very pink outfit to wear!

• Heidi in pink is a rare occasion indeed, But come to the party I shall and with glee!

Highly educated professional women, if I promise to someday try to answer why highly educated professional men act like boys when they are together, please answer my question: Why do women act like girls?

This week a speechwriter told me a story about an irreverent thing she told her client.

"Did he laugh?" I asked.

"No," she said with a laugh. "He can't laugh."

She explained that the guy has been so exalted for so long預nd deals with people so exalted葉hat his business persona is inseparable from his real self.

So much so, that, if his business persona wouldn't think a joke is funny預nd his business persona doesn't think anything is funny揺e can't laugh.

She added that this is often true of top executives: By the time they get to the C-suite, they've ceased to recognize any difference between their real selves and their corporate personas.

"They can't laugh," the speechwriter said with a hint of pity in her voice.

Which brought me to the conclusion that here's yet another job our speechwriters do for our clients, in addition to research, writing and presentation coaching:

We laugh for them, too.

Blogger prepares for trip to China by explaining to everyone why he's going

Ever since I've been in business—15 years or so—I've read speeches, employee newsletter articles, white papers and books about the global economy.

The global economy, the global marketplace, the global village—global this and global that.

Tom Friedman's book, The World Is Flat, is only the latest of a million lectures on this subject, each more strident and finger-wagging than the last.

In fact, there's only one subject I've heard more about over the last few years than globalism: China. China's growing entrepreneurialism, China's massive workforce, China's emergence as a rival to U.S. economic supremacy—China, China, China, China.

So when my wife's Chinese-speaking uncle invited me to join him and a number of other people on a tour of China this July, I said, almost zombie-like: I have to go. And so I am going; and taking my sister along with me, and leaving my generous wife and dear baby girl for three whole weeks.

The first surprise of many that I'm sure will come from this trip was the near-uniformity of the reaction I've gotten from friends and colleagues, all of whom would no doubt agree that globalism is king and that China may change the entire balance of world power over the next decade?

"Why are you going to China?"

When I told my dad on the telephone that I was not only going to China but taking my younger sister along, too, there was silence on the other end of the line. I broke it: "I know, Dad. We're not China people." No, he said. We're not.

I did not remind him of his favorite quote: "Every once in a while a man should do something he's a little afraid of."

Look: I never thought I would go to China. In many ways, I dread going to China. It seems to a Midwestern man like going to Mars: I expect it to be strange and uncomfortable and inhospitable, and I only hope I'm pleasantly surprised.

I'm going to China because it is exciting and because I know it will be good for me to have been there.

The question is: Why aren't you coming to China with me?

P.S. I'll be gone July 5-July 23, and as getting away from e-mail, voice mail and the blogosphere in general is one of the most appealing parts of the trip, I'm not planning to post from there. At the considerable risk of becoming Wally Pipp to his Lou Gehrig, I've lined up a star guest blogger to take my place for those three weeks. More on the inimitable Hal Gordon as my departure date approaches.

For a story in Speechwriter's Newsletter's sister publication The Ragan Report, I interviewed SN contributor and longtime freelance speechwriter Jane Genova.

Here's the link.

Jane Genova, who used to be Mary Jane Genova傭efore she embarked on a personal re-branding journey she describes as both behavioral and spiritual.

Mary Jane Genova was loud, aggressive and occasionally profane. A good dresser but a negligent accessorizer. Thirty-five pounds heavier, with gray hair. And, after Sept. 11, out of clients and without the wherewithal to get new ones.

Jane Genova is still more outspoken than the average corporate writer預s part of her re-branding effort, she moved from New Jersey to Connecticut, but the New Jersey never moved out of her傭ut her personal transformation has been profound and she credits it with the busy freelance operation she's running now.

I told her that while I appreciated the length and arduousness of her journey and her candor in sharing the tale with me, it pissed me off (my personal brand still allows me to swear) that a talented, middle-aged woman would have to reform herself in such a way just to keep up with the Joneses.

I sent the article to my sister-in-law, a politically active feminist who works for a big corporation. She said it better than I, pointing out that business has stricter behavioral standards for women than for men, and adding:

"Maybe Jane should write a speech to address all the conservative corporate hoohaws about why it's ok to trust a strong-willed woman whose gray hair and opinionated attitude is an indication of experience and expertise in the field and that maybe they should stop focusing on outward appearance."

I'm sure Jane will agree with that notion. But in the meantime, a woman has to eat.

I don't have a spam filter for two big reasons:

1. I can't be bothered to figure out how to install one on my computer.

2. I'm terrified that a spam filter will keep me from receiving an e-mail from a reader who wants to praise me for something or an Atlantic Monthly editor who wants to commission me to write an essay about the nature of life in modern America.

And so I deal with a lot of spam, and I don't complain.

Checking my e-mail after writing an article for Speechwriter's Newsletter or after a phone interview with a Chicago politician, bold subject lines demand that I contemplate questions I would normally save for evenings and weekends.

Questions like, "Want something extra in bed?"

Or, "It's not working like it used to?"

Or, "Want the sex life to be like it used to?"

Or, more obscurely but clearly enough, "Remember the old says?"

There are less obscure questions, too; I'll spare you.

But I can deal with the Viagra stuff預nd the back-alley whispers about how I can get a Rolex "replica," the phony "friendly notifications" that my Earthlink account will be shut down any moment and the invitations to "spend 15 minutes and get 36 hours of pleasure" (a ratio that would be tempting even if it were reversed).

But what's got me confused and a little freaked out is the nonsense spam subject lines I've been getting. Not since my Late 20th Century American Poetry class at Kent State have I scratched my head so vigorously and so often. Here are a few of the spam subject lines I've contemplated in the last week:

Re. But ask he hubcap

Re. A drink he overtook bur

in talk go sonny

At bring or gally

No travel of edgeways

Re.: As dance do blare

Re. At smoke at dread.

Dan said, with the air of authority I was looking for, "Oh, they just do that to try to confuse you and get you to open the e-mail."

Perhaps he has the right answer. But I'm not sure. If sheer confusion worked in spam subject lines, why wouldn't it have ever been tried in direct mail promotions, or newspaper headlines for that matter.

Editor: "We really want people to read this editorial on gun control."

Publisher: "You're going to have to go nuts with the headline, then. How about half Chinese characters and then the words, 'Slim onions, leaf blower and think." That'll really suck 'em in!"

And yet, Dan's answer is the best I've heard. Readers: Do you have a better one?

Speechwriters can take a break

I've always thought the flag-burning debate that flares up every couple of years in the U.S.—always in the summer, as we approach the Fourth of July—because a desperate Republican legislator who needs a non-issue—the kind that, right before the Fourth of July, will garner some press and stir up the party's base imbeciles—oops, I meant its imbecile base.

But this is blog is not called the "Political Slant"—it's the "Speechwriter's Slant." And so here, we must consider the much more agreeable and refreshing notion that perhaps this flag-burning business is a conspiracy of tired-out Washington speechwriters who want a month off.

All these speechwriters are writing these days are Post-It Notes: "Hey, Senator, it looks like it's all about flag-burning again this July. There's a bunch of good speeches on my hard drive. There's Flag Burning 1995, Flag Burning 1997, Flag Burning 1999, Flag Burning 2001 and Flag Burning 2003.Take what you like. Mix and match. Ad lib, go nuts. I'm going fishing and I won't be checking e-mail …."

And what do speechwriters do for a break in the winter?

Why, prayer in schools, of course!

Out today at the IABC conference; getting in touch with my inner Abick

Not being a blogger with a laptop in a speed holster熔r even in my briefcase悠'm writing this in advance of the IABC International Conference in Washington, D.C.

I'm covering the show for The Ragan Report.

I've probably been to eight or 10 of the last 13 IABC conferences, and here's what I can tell you about this event, sight unseen:

There will be much pomp and circumstance. In conference materials and on PowerPoint slides, the word "fellow" will always be capitalized. (IABC honors longtime contributors to the organization by calling them an "IABC Fellow." I always thought, "IABC Chap" would be a little more novel. Or, in step with the times, "IABC Dude.")

Also: There will be many people with name tags with little ribbons on them that scroll halfway down to their belt. It's like a military costume for a general in a third-world country. I never know what these ribbons mean悠 am not even an IABC Third Wheel傭ut I know this: the more of them there are, the more likely the wearer is to be an "ABC":

That's, an Accredited Business Communicator.

Speechwriter Dan Danbom earned his ABC many years ago. He says the designation has not won him any professional gain or recognition of any kind, except once at a business function when somebody squinted at the ABC on his nametag and called him, "Mr. Abick."

Far from criticizing IABC and its members for going in for this goofy Moose Lodge stuff, I find it comforting預s close to tribal bonding as the disparate members of the comparatively disorganized communication profession ever get.

More when I get back from my party with a thousand people, all named Abick.

if you can bring yourself to say it

The cover story for the August Speechwriter's Newsletter is an open letter from me to CEOs on behalf of speechwriters. It's cleverly called, "I know why the caged word sings" and it tells CEOs how they should treat their speechwriters, for their own good. The tone is reasonable but direct, and it will be interesting to see how many subscribers decide to pass it on to their chiefs.

One thing I forgot to include in my advice—much of which asks CEOs to give their speechwriters more access and spend more time rehearsing their speeches—was a line I heard a few years ago at the Speechwriter's Conference, from speaking coach extraordinaire Virgil Scudder.

Virgil said he often has CEOs tell him as he begins to teach them, "You've got an hour."

"You don't tell that to your golf teacher," Scudder said he says.

P.S. I'd do a post re. the IABC conference if I wasn't busy writing the coverage for a looming deadline for The Ragan Report. Something on that tomorrow or Fri.

Why are speakers suddenly chugging water out of bottles?

At the IABC International Conference in Washington earlier this week, BBC communicator Russell Grossman took exception to something everyone noticed: Keynote speakers were drinking water out of plastic bottles. "Swugging," as the Brit put it in a blog entry on the IABC site.

"Listen up, you swuggers! Would you do this in the boardroom? Or maybe even that hallowed china is receding."

And to a blog respondent who questioned his right to question the right of people to drink water in public, Russell stuck to his guns: "Sure, people should be able to drink in public. It's the absence of a glass which feels careless, inattentive; even rude."

Of course, not everything is deteriorating: 35 years ago at the first IABC conference many speakers smoked cigarettes and pipes at the lectern.

Full conference coverage appears in The Ragan Report on July 11date. Check the Ragan site on that date . . .

I'm off to China to spend three weeks without e-mail, voice mail or white males. I tremble at the thought.

Happily, I'm being spelled as Speechwriter's Slant blogger Hal Gordon, who will no doubt impress you as smarter, more experienced, and about 50 times better educated than the other guy who used to write this blog, whatever his name was.

Hal, who has written speeches for President Reagan, General Colin Powell and a number of other luminaries in business and politics, will share his many ideas here until I return on July 25.

Take advantage of Hal's presence here. He's a genius and a dear man to boot.

See you on the other side.

David