A Room of One's Own

My space (I need to get a picture of our dog Kane up there).

For the past six months we have had two bedrooms in our four-bedroom house that have been little more than storage areas (and we all know what happens to storage rooms). So, following my adventure at writing camp this summer and inspired by my friend Shelley who just set up her home office, I decided to Get Serious About Writing and convert one of those rooms to my very own space for writing and other forms of "work" and creativity.

Have you been published?

Have you tried to get published? #TenThingsNotToSayToAWriter

— Baratunde (@baratunde) July 28, 2015

Recently, the hashtag #TenThingsNotToSayToAWriter went viral on Twitter. I read a selection of the tweets in the CBC Books article, and laughed and laughed and laughed. Oh, how I laughed. I even shared the link on Facebook along with a comment that there should be a parallel hashtag #TenThingsNotToSayToAPhotographer.

And then, the next day, someone who was interested to hear that I'd attended a writing camp asked "So, have you been published?" and I laughed again before answering.

Tech Tools to Love

Perhaps the greatest pleasure of retirement has been the ability to do things (for the most part) when I feel like it, when the mood strikes. The greatest pitfall of retirement, however, is the ability to procrastinate so long that nothing gets done because I'm too busy waiting for the mood to strike. Today, I'm sharing a couple of tools to help you -- whether you're retired or not! -- avoid procrastination and become more productive.

Apprentice Classics

Most of the group at the 2015 Providence Bay Writers' Camp:
Mark, Wynn Anne, Gail, Dianne, Sonal, and Rosanna. Missing: Meg and Chantal 

Shortly after I retired in December 2013, I looked for ways to nurture my interest in writing fiction. At that time, Gail Anderson-Dargatz was offering novel mentorships -- something for which I was not ready (I'm still not). In February 2015, however, she announced a one-week writers' camp to take place in August on Manitoulin Island. This was right up my alley: immersion in writing and a great vacation all in one. I'll write about the vacation part in another post; for now, I'll tell you about the writing class.

In the Offing

This picture actually has nothing to do with this post, but it makes me happy.

Over the past several weeks, I've put the wheels in motion for a few things that I'm really excited about and happy to share with you.

Is giving up the same as failure?

This will not be true of my story, and that's just fine.
From Positive Outlooks Blog 

It's been fifteen months since I left my last job (but who's counting?), and I still obsess over what went wrong.

How to Eat an Elephant

Photo taken by my mother-in-law, Jean Sibbald, when she was in Kenya last year.

First: DON'T eat elephants! (Also, don't buy ivory.*)

Second: Hypothetically speaking, eating an elephant is a daunting task. Even if you were starving, it would be hard to eat an entire elephant before it started to rot. Today, I'm thinking about this as a metaphor.

Retirement: Keeping the Cogs Turning

Have you noticed that I keep putting the word retirement in quotation marks? There are a couple of reasons for that:

1. It wasn't a planned - or therefore celebrated - event. Frankly, it felt like I simply quit my job in desperation, with no plan for the future. Which is a pretty accurate description, actually.
2. Because I haven't worked at one place for a significant chunk of time, I don't feel entitled to a retirement. In fact, Steve's retirement this summer will be more of a joint retirement. He's earned the celebration and, since I was along for the vast majority of the ride, I'll share in rejoicing.

So I've taken to calling this "pre-retirement."

This was not the plan.

Late last week, I had a talk with my boss about how I'm doing. It was a tough talk because, in spite of having cut back to half-time, I'm still exhausted and my joints complain loudly. "Weary to my bones," as Simon & Garfunkel sang.

I told her I needed to stop work. Trying to keep the boat afloat at work while allowing my body to recover balance was just not working; it was a disservice to my employer and to myself. If I'd been with them longer (years instead of months), I might have asked for a period of leave without pay, but they've already been great about allowing me to try part-time.

If I knew what I was dealing with (mono, say) and could anticipate a recuperation period, I'd be in a better position to negotiate. But I'm still living with unknowns.

And because of my values -- hard work, commitment, professionalism -- I was unhappy feeling that I couldn't give 100%. I knew I needed rest, but felt ashamed coming in late or leaving early. I felt apologetic, especially toward the team of people I supervise. (I don't like calling them "my employees" because I don't own them and I don't even pay them myself.) I felt disappointed in myself, like I'd let people down, people I care about.they deserve more.

So, today I tendered my official resignation, giving a few weeks' notice, during which I will continue my part-time hours.

And it kind of sucked, but I got through it. My colleagues and team were incredibly supportive and understanding.

This may end up being an early retirement, but I kind of hope not. I enjoy the mental challenge of work, and the social interactions. I hope to take on some consulting work or freelance writing, but if my health doesn't improve, then I'm not sure how well that will work.

Mostly, right now, aside from feeling tired, I feel so very grateful that this is even an option for me. If we relied on my income to pay the mortgage, then I'd keep plugging away. Instead, I have the luxury of stepping away for a period of time, restoring body and soul, and then looking at a different plan for my future.

For now, "I'm just trying to get some rest."

The stars are aligned.

Glamour horoscope for June 2013

I'm not a horoscope follower. I don't subscribe to daily or weekly bulletins warning me of risks or lucky numbers. I rarely ever read them and, when I do, I usually scoff at how generic they are.

Early in June, however, I happened to glance at the back pages of Glamour magazine and read the horoscope at left.

As it happens, I had been feeling a little malaise at my current job. I enjoyed the work I was doing, but was ready for more responsibility, different challenges.

I had dragged my heels about making a change because I've considered retiring at the same time as Steve does (only about a year and a half away). Why start something new when it will only last such a short time?

And then, coincidentally, I connected with a former colleague who told me about an opportunity that sounded like it was right up my alley: communications and staff-development support at a local university.

So I shot in my resume and was eventually accepted the job offer. Maybe this little fluff article was in the back of my mind. Who knows?

During salary negotiation, I learned that tuition is covered 100% by the university for staff and their immediate dependents. I happen to have three university-aged kids, and another one who will be graduating high school in 2014. Can you say bonus?

The tuition is a taxable benefit, but it's taxed at the student's rate, not mine, so it's a huge deal for us. And even if I decide to take courses myself (maybe it's time to do that Master's degree I've been putting off), it's a great benefit.

And then, last night while I was tidying my side table, I saw a scrap of paper.

Financial opportunity lies ahead.

As I said, I'm not about to start looking for omens and aligning the stars, but in this case, it is quite a coincidence of timing.

Mantras

There's more meandering than usual with this post, but bear with me. It'll all tie up into a pretty bow at the end. Or a bow, at least.

---

"You is kind. You is smart. You is important." Aibileen to Mae Mobley in Kathryn Stockett's The Help

---

As a self-centred adolescent, I directed all of my judgmental angst at my mother. "Stupidfatlazyslobofabitch," I sobbed into my pillow.

In late March 1990, my father died. In early June of the same year, I graduated with two degrees. The following day, I gave birth to my second child.

By fall of that year, I was a grief-stricken, miserable puddle.

I'd gone from the academic world to the realm of the stay-at-home mother. My body was soft from childbirth. Exhausted from dealing with a toddler and a colicky infant, it was all I could do to put the kids into a stroller for a walk; I lived in sweat pants. Poor Steve bore the brunt of my irritability.

Stupidfatlazyslobofabitch

I'd come full circle. In dark times, those words would weave through my mind, but lately a new string of words has come to the fore: fucketyfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

Nice, eh? The powerless little rant, of a toddler stomping her foot.

I know I'm not the first or loudest to say it, but I do believe that the words we say only to ourselves, the words that no one else hears, are disproportionately powerful.

Precioussssss

Unspoken words insinuate themselves into our psyches. Kathryn Stockett knew this.

But we can't simply delete the old track; we need to over-write it. So the challenge, now, is to rewrite the mantra, the "sound, syllable, word, or group of words that is considered capable of  'creating transformation'," according to Wikipedia.

I wonder what would happen if I took my favourite Bible verse and turned it into a mantra? 

"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy -- think about such things." Philippians 4:8

truenoblerightpure
lovelyadmirable
excellentpraiseworthy

I'll let you know how it goes. Or maybe you'll see for yourself.

Feelin' the Love

Bliss. I think I need one of these for my garden.

Every few years, Steve and I take a weekend away to do some strategic planning. I think the first time we did so was when he came back from his tour in Sarajevo.

These are important sessions for us. They restore the couple connection that can be stretched thin, with both of us working, travelling for our jobs, four kids (even though two have left home, we still worry about and support them). They are especially important as we face major milestones in our life, as we are now.

In a little less than two years, Steve will retire from his 35-year career in the Canadian military. At 18, he signed up to serve his country and he never looked back. Three years later, I signed on for the ride.

When he retires, we both will say goodbye to a way of life. This past week, we attended a seminar on preparation for retirement. It raised a lot of good questions:

• where will we live: city, country, snowbirds?
• will we retire at the same time?
• how much travel will we do?
• what will our finances be like?
• how will we meet the social, intellectual, and identity needs that are currently fulfilled through our careers?

All excellent questions. So we decided to use the weekend to discuss them. We had already planned a trip to Kingston and Gananoque.

Victoria Rose Inn, Gananoque. Gananoque has a population of 5,400 and is about half an hour's drive from Kingston.
My friend's daughter thinks it looks like a castle. It sure felt that special!

Breakfast, as always, was scrumptious, though it did not have any of the bacon we had smelled the night before; disappointing. Who ate that bacon? Where did it go? They are contributing to the global bacon shortage!

Morning snack. They let me take this to my room after breakfast.
They also stocked the guest pantry with jujubes and Twizzlers.

We started in on our homework after that, then walked into town and continued over lunch. And dessert.

Pecan pie and real root beer.

By then we had pinpointed some areas that still need some discussion and thought, and were glad that we still have many months to consider them.

Walking back to our inn, we passed a teeny, tiny art boutique and fell in love with a few jewels.

Don't these just scream, "HAPPY!"?

I may have a "thing" for glass art.

We spent the afternoon relaxing, and then we got all dressed up to go to a gala!

I wore gold ear rings and bracelet,
and had golden nail polish, clutch, and shoes.
(I never know what to do with my hands
in pictures.)

I felt like a princess in my red dress, alongside my dashing soldier. 

The gala was a fundraiser for a museum affiliated with Steve's branch of the military (Communications and Electronics branch, since you asked). Steve is the branch advisor, so he has a modest figurehead role.

As part of the fundraiser, there was a silent auction. Loosened up by a glass or two of champagne, we started by bidding on three packages. We happily withdrew from the third one. Then I saw someone pick up a pen to outbid us on one of the remaining two, so I upped my bid on the third one on our list. 

Moments later, I discovered that she had looked at our bid and changed her mind. Oops. 

So we ended up "winning" two lots and walking away several hundred dollars poorer. But, we have some excellent winter parkas, a new counter-top convection oven, and a free dinner at a microbrewery in Kingston, along with a night in a suite.

So it was all good, in the end.

Having finished all our homework on Saturday, we had a slow morning wandering the gardens at the B&B.

This wee fellow was trying valiantly to open the bud.

A brief spot of sunshine.

This retaining wall was probably 100 years old - and was beautiful -
but it did not look like it would be around much longer.

A happy, little flower.

So that was our beautiful weekend. We're back home now, in the thick of things. I'm procrastinating about laundry and grocery shopping. It'll all get done eventually. Probably before we retire, but no promises.

When Piglet Travels

Have you read or watched "The Accidental Tourist"? The book is a long (sometimes boring) read, but the main character, Macon, played by William Hurt in the movie, is a lovably quirky agoraphobe [Blogger's spelling checker suggested that I really meant "Anglophobe"] who loathes travel but makes a career as a writer of travel guides for others like him. Like me.

While most of the world leaps at the chance of adventure and new experiences, I am quite happy to retrace my path week in, week out. I do like the luxuries of travel (hotel rooms, dining out), but I feel constantly unsettled when I don't know what comes next or am unsure of how to navigate my way from point A to point B.

Like Piglet, who lives in a constant state of anxiety and fear of heffalumps and woozles, I prefer the known. This leads to a certain amount of silliness.

For example, this past few days I staffed an exhibit at the Banff Centre for the Arts, a marvelous and inspiring location. Built on the side of a steep hill, there are "ground level" entrances on both the first and third floors of most buildings. Designed for guests residing on site, there are steep meandering paths connecting the architecturally sharp buildings.

On my first day, I managed to find a path from the parking garage to the exhibit hall. It was not until the third day that I discovered a more direct route - and then only because my "regular" path was blocked by construction. See? Silliness.

For people like Macon, Piglet, and me, it doesn't take much to get our pulses racing. Let me give you a glimpse inside our world.

Yesterday, I drove from Banff to Calgary, about a one-hour drive. I plugged in my GPS, set the destination and then hit the road. A beautiful drive, I enjoyed the spectacle of sharp-peaked young mountains, cliffs, waterfalls, trees and pristine mountain lakes. (Sadly, with no scenic turnoffs for photo ops.) I chuckled at signs like, "Elk crossing 4 km," which failed to deliver on its promise, or "LOGGING TRUCKS" which left me mystified as to what I was supposed to do. I can only assume that the pictograph of a flashing camera meant that I ought to smile, just in case. All was well with the world.

Then I had an Adventure.

An hour into the drive, I noticed the surrounding hills were swathed in suburban sprawl. Thinking that I must be nearing my destination, I glanced at the GPS only to find that its battery had died and it had turned itself off.

I probably would have noticed
before I reached Saskatchewan.
I think.

God only KNOWS how long I'd been driving without guidance! I could be ANYWHERE! I could've been half way to Regina. [Hello, K.B.!]

Panicked, I pulled over at a safe spot, jiggled the charger until the GPS turned itself back on and told me to take THE VERY NEXT EXIT. Seriously, I was about 200 metres from missing my exit. Can you imagine?

Breathing a sigh of relief, but with my Piglet-nerves heightened, I proceeded on my way. Moments later, I glanced again at my GPS and, AGAIN it had turned itself off! After much jiggling, I managed to stabilize the GPS and made it to my destination without further excitement. Thankfully.

That was enough for me. You may prefer to go whitewater rafting or ziplining, but I shall remain sufficiently entertained by my faulty technology and a good book.

On the Road Again

Every so often it happens that Steve's job and mine go through almost concurrent spates of travel. We are just nearing the end of one such period.

I'll be home just long enough to wash
my underwear and re-pack my suitcase.

I used to envy Steve all the travel he did for work - especially when I was a stay-at-home mom and we couldn't afford hotel vacations. I coveted the thrill of flying to new places, the pleasure of sleeping in a crisply made bed, having a bathroom that was polished daily, eating every meal in a restaurant. All this without the continual interruptions of little people clamouring to have their bottoms wiped. (Or worse, not clamouring, but not doing it themselves, either.)

But I've done more traveling with my last job and this one, and the bloom is off the rose. I now acknowledge the tedium of spending hours in airport concourses, missing flights, or having bags searched. I have a greater appreciation for the feeling of mild panic when things go sideways at home while I'm away and can do nothing to set things right. I've seen how life gets put "on hold" when one of us is away.

I guess, as with most things in life, moderation is a good thing. I do like to travel - both for work and for pleasure - and I certainly enjoy hotel living, but I also like being home. Home is such a very good thing.

It's been a crazy couple of months, and I'm looking forward to having a stay-cation later this summer, once I put my suitcase in longer-term storage.

A Particularly Contemporary Dilemma

Nothing says "Internet Age" like the expression, "Pictures, or it didn't happen." That's because nowadays, it is highly improbably that anything of real significance will happen without being captured by a digital camera. Hence the retort to wild claims: show us the photographic evidence or we will not believe you.

And then, Osama Bin Laden was assassinated. With knee-jerk predictability, the hordes yelled, "Pix or it didn't happen!"

Thank heavens, the administration paused and thought better of it. Because, really, we don't need to see that. The pictures do, in fact, exist. I don't doubt that for a second.

And I can assure you that, if those pictures were released, sooner or later, you would see that. Here's how I know.

A little over a year ago, I attended a social-media "boot camp." Not much rigorous training went on, but we did have a captivating speaker who knew his way around social media the way I know my way around a bowl of ice cream. (I am a very skilled ice-cream eater.)

Anyway, the lecturer was whizzing along talking about how corporations have NO CONTROL over social media, that it is viral and that, once something is "out there" it is public domain and we cannot spin the message or, as the saying goes, "put it back in the box." Then he showed us the real, actual video of Saddam Hussein's execution. I was unprepared and shocked.

This is definitely not something I would have sought out.

The lecturer's point seemed to be that the video undermined the purported message of justice being carried out. (It looked like a snuff film, or what I would imagine a snuff film to look like.)

But what really struck me was that I was watching the taking of another human's life and I felt ... nothing. Really. I was horrified at the thought of watching something like this in a context of ... entertainment? It felt wrong. But I did not feel any empathy with the victim or with the witnesses or the executioner.

And that lack of empathy - with anyone involved - made me feel less human. Have I become so jaded by modern drama (like Inglourious Basterds or other Quentin Tarantino creations) that I can dissociate myself from this? Is that a good thing?

"Less human" may be the wrong expression. Maybe it is "too human" and "not godlike enough."

So, as I've listened to the calls for images of bin Laden's execution, I am pleased that the Obama administration has not released those images. We don't need them. They would put this event into the realm of entertainment, not history, where it belongs.

The world has no shortage of ugliness, of pain, or horror or of things that take something from our souls. Let's not clamour for more. On that note, I leave you with this verse:

"Finally, [fellow travelers on this sod] brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things."   ~ Philippians 4:8

Married to the Military

I cannot imagine my life
without this man.

Several months after Steve and I married, my sister-in-law asked me, "So how does it feel being married to the military?"

I don't recall exactly what I replied, but it was something along the lines of, "I didn't marry the military; I married your brother."

As a military kid herself, she knew better. The military has been the landscape of our marriage, of our family. It has shaped many of our choices, it has shaped my career. It has affected our children's education, friendships and mental health.

Indeed, what hasn't it touched?

Some of the aspects of being a military spouse are common to families who do not have a military member:

• Moving from one location to another, including to another country. (My brother and his family have lived in as many (or more) houses, including a home in Singapore.)
• Living apart for periods of time - and not because you're having marital difficulties.
• One spouse giving up or modifying career options for the sake of the other.
• Getting caught up in the social expectations to conform: to marry, to be heterosexual, to put work before family. 

The one big difference is that corporate execs or bureaucrats don't generally put their lives on the line when they go to work. But police officers, first responders, firefighters, and some defense contractors do that. As spouses, we share the worry that our best friend might never come home.


Brian, 2002

When Steve returned home after his six-month deployment to Sarajevo, our five-year-old greeted him excitedly with the words,

"Daddy! I thought you were dead!"

My heart broke that he had been worried about that for the whole time his dad was gone.
 
So, yes, being a military wife has certainly had an impact on our life.
 
I'm thinking about all this today for two reasons: (1) this Thursday will be our 27th wedding anniversary (yes, I was a teenaged bride, why do you ask?), and (2) a friend shared a heart-wrenching blog about a military spouse who was on the brink of suicide and is now in residential care, in part because of the effect military life had on her husband, her marriage and her own mental health.

In the first case, the years have flown by, and we will celebrate them.

In the second case, I don't think it's hyperbole to say that the lack of support from the military for this woman was tragic. Thank God she survived.

But I have a few thoughts on the matter. (I'm an opinionated gal. I have thoughts on EVERYTHING.) For one thing, I think we underestimate how emotionally difficult it is to live with someone who is depressed. "I felt very helpless" she writes of coping with her husband's depression and heavy drinking. "I knew my husband needed some sort of counseling, but I also knew it wasn’t something you could force someone into. I started to feel very overwhelmed."

And because her husband's mental health was not treated comprehensively, but was simply medicated, his behaviour had an increasingly negative impact on her and eventually the marriage broke down. In fact, if you tot up all the stressors in her life, you get a picture of someone who is at serious risk for stress-related illness. 

So, being a military spouse certainly didn't help her, but the same thing could happen to anyone who finds herself (or himself) without support, especially from her or his partner. As this compassionate website puts it, suicidal thinking "happens when pain exceeds resources for coping with pain."

My point - and I do have one - is that we shouldn't assume that being a military family is worse or better than any other lifestyle, but that we should all be aware of people who are at risk of being overwhelmed and do what we can to help anyone cope with the pain of excessive stress and depression.

Shame on the military network for letting her - and her husband - down.

Shame on us if we don't reach out to those around us who need someone to help shoulder their pain.

Now go give someone a hug or say a prayer or light a candle or send someone a note to let them know you're thinking about them.

Do NOT wave the red flag!

Look out - or someone's gonna get hurt!
Source

I've been fortunate to work with some incredible - and incredibly talented - people. I've been inspired by them and challenged by them. I've learned a lot from peers, colleagues and bosses.

One of my first bosses was truly impassioned about his work. He cared deeply about working for CIDA - and that zeal was contagious. It ensured that, whatever project or task we were working on, we never lost sight of why we were doing it. He also (bless his heart) trusted me and gave me a great deal of leeway. He listened to everyone.

That combined atmosphere of passionate vision and trust built one of the best teamwork environments I've experienced. At the time, it was something I took for granted, but I don't anymore.

Sadly, I've also encountered some workplace bullies along the way. They drive me crazy, but I have no idea how to deal with them.

I'm not talking about the out-and-out abusive bully or harasser. I'm talking about those slippery passive-aggressive eels. Everything they say is defensible. If you transcribed it, everything they've said would sound reasonable. (If only you could record the tone of voice, the sarcasm or snippyness.) They don't listen; they're never wrong; the only way a disagreement ends is when you stop arguing and give up.

What puzzles me is that these people are often also very charismatic. Smart - brilliant, even - witty, well spoken. They are people that I find myself wanting to suck up to, to befriend and impress. It drives. Me. Nuts. (Sorry about the staccato punctuation, Jeff, but it really does work in this context.)

It brings out my own passive-aggressive tendencies! Never a good thing.

I dug up an article I remember Donna Karlin, my former shadow coach, posting. She covers some of the hallmarks of a bully and suggests,

If you challenge them again but this time have an audience or allies, they will be disempowered and their bullying house of cards will all come toppling down...


If you're being bullied in the workplace, speak to staff relations. Leadership. Anyone you can who will support you and not try to sweep this under the rug.

Good advice, but personally, I've never been able to confront any of the people I've perceived as bullies. I've just avoided them. (Hence the title of this post.) About all I can boast is that I've become much swifter at recognizing them and not wasting time either arguing with them or trying to win them over.
What about you? How have you dealt with this, either in the workplace or in your personal life? Any tips to share?

Conscious Incompetence

Pileated Woodpecker

At a conference I attended recently, one of the presenters introduced me to the expression "conscious incompetence." It's that psychologically painful stage when you realize just how incompetent you are at a new skill. It comes from the so-called four stages of competence.
Here's the Wikipedia explanation:

1. Unconscious Incompetence
The individual neither understands nor knows how to do something, nor recognizes the deficit, nor has a desire to address it.

2. Conscious Incompetence
Though the individual does not understand or know how to do something, he or she does recognize the deficit, without yet addressing it.

3. Conscious Competence
The individual understands or knows how to do something. However, demonstrating the skill or knowledge requires a great deal of consciousness or concentration.

4. Unconscious Competence
The individual has had so much practice with a skill that it becomes "second nature" and can be performed easily (often without concentrating too deeply). He or she may or may not be able to teach it to others, depending upon how and when it was learned.

Looking at these, it occurs to me that not only is conscious incompetence the most uncomfortable stage, it is probably the only stage that doesn't actually make you feel good. Here's my synopsis (much pithier than Wikipedia's):

Unconscious Incompetence => Ignorance is bliss
Conscious Incompetence => OMG, I totally suck!
Conscious Competence => Dayum, I'm good!
Unconscious Competence => Gretzky on skates

I am currently at the "OMG, I totally suck!" stage when it comes to Adobe Photoshop and Illustrator, and it is kind of driving me nuts. I know just enough to do some really cool stuff, but also enough to get into trouble.

For example, I did some subtle (I think) but good things to Brian's picture at the top of this post, using Photoshop. Here's the original picture, at right. It's a good picture: high resolution, good shot of the woodpecker, decent exposure. But the few tweaks I did (not just cropping) make it stronger, I think.

On the other hand, in trying to do those few simple things, there was still a lot of trial and error (and undoing).

And one of the larger projects I had at work this week involved Illustrator. The design itself was relatively simple, so I didn't think we would need to hire a professional designer (famous last words, eh?).

Well, I uploaded the final artwork to the production company yesterday and got a "Please call us first thing in the morning" message from them last night. Turns out that, while the design itself was fine, I hadn't integrated all the files the way the printer needs them. (Just how DOES one convert text to "outlines"?) It was easily solved by uploading a couple of extra files.

I need to be patient and keep on plugging away. I just don't like this in-between stage of "OMG, I totally suck!" I am, however, looking forward to feeling like I rock.

Happy Dance!

Yippee! I start next Wednesday as Communications Manager at a high-tech organization with its headquarters here in Ottawa.
 
In a previous post, I mentioned that I had been offered a short-term ("casual") government position in the health sector, and that paperwork was already under way for that job. So I called them today to let them know that I would, regrettably, not be taking that job. I offered them the name of a friend who happens to be an excellent communicator and works as a contractor/consultant, and who might be able to help them out with some of their projects. Unfortunately, I had to do all that in voicemail, and they haven't called back yet.

The job I've accepted is the one described as Job 2 in my previous post. It looks like a demanding job, with plenty of satisfying challenges for me and even some travel opportunities (I'll be in Toronto on November 24 and 25). And the fact that I can start almost immediately is perfect as well. I've missed having my own income and all the extras that it brings for the family. Not to mention how it will take the axe to the pool costs. Oh, and have you noticed how close we are to Christmas?

So I'm breathing a huge sigh of relief this afternoon.

And you'll never guess how I plan to celebrate when I get my first paycheck.

Cleaning services. Yup. I hate cleaning floors and bathrooms, but even more than that, I hate dirty floors and toothpaste-scummed sinks and mirrors and revolting toilets. When I am unemployed, I do the work myself of course, but when I have the income, I am only too happy to let someone else do the job.

So - happy dance!

Feeling excited about my career

For the past three days I've attended a Public Affairs workshop put on by NORAD and USNORTHCOM. The first day-and-a-half were interesting enough, but it's the last day-and-a-half that have really pumped me up.

Eric Schwartzman led all of us on a "Social Media Boot-Camp." I've learned so much! And I feel reinvigorated in my chosen career field of communication/public relations. This isn't the first workshop or webcast I've attended on the subject, but this is the first one that got into some of the nitty-gritty about how to make these tools really work. In fact, it's the Social Media Boot-Camp that inspired me to get off the fence and actually start writing this blog. (I'm still not sure where this blog is going or whether anyone other than myself will read it, but at least I made a move.)

One message came through loud and clear, and that is the importance of being authentic when using social media. What that means is that if your stuff looks or sounds too much like a polished PR product (without adding any real value or content) or ignores an issue that is a hot topic on the Web, you are dead in the water: your credibility is in the toilet. I believe this applies to all our PR/corporate communications activities. People sense when they're being lied to or when the message doesn't jibe with reality.

He also drove home the point that these are social media -- they are about social exchange, back-and-forth, dialogue. That's why some corporate blogs (ones that are clearly written by the PR or marketing department) fall so flat: they are impersonal, cold, too packaged, and they don't have any give-and-take.

One less prominent point he made is one that I've felt strongly about for a long time, and that is that your internal audience is perhaps your most important one. They are the subject-matter experts who can be quick to debunk misinformation about your company -- if they are empowered to do so. And they are a far more credible source than your "official spokesperson" will ever be.

All in all, the session left me feeling pumped as I haven't felt in a long, long time. Visit his blog at http://www.spinfluencer.com/

On a personal note, Steve spent the day at a briefing concerning our move back to Canada - all the things we need to do before we leave. Can't wait to hear his debrief!