Marketing Monday: Reading

You know what they say, it's Monday somewhere! No one says that. It's not Monday, I realize, yet here I am, posting Marketing Monday anyway. Sometimes that's how these things go.

If you've been around here or my Twitter or Instagram accounts at all, you might know I love reading. I love it recreationally, but it's also important to my work. The more I read - of anything - the more voices, vocabulary, and points of view I'm exposed to. The more of that I'm exposed to, the better a writer I become.

When I was in sixth grade, there was a class spelling bee. I remember vividly how we all lined up along the wall and went down the line, taking our turn trying to spell the words the teacher said aloud. At one point she asked for the word 'click'. She went down the line, and student after student said "Click. C-l-i-c-k. Click.", and it was wrong. Everyone was puzzled. But as their puzzlement and murmurs grew, so grew my excitement. I knew what word she was asking for, and it wasn't click.

At that point I read and re-read a lot of Sweet Valley High, The Babysitter's Club, Nancy Drew Files, and anything else I could get my hands on, especially if it had to do with friendship and characters that were close to my age. I knew exactly what word she was talking about. When she got to me, I said "Clique. C-l-i-q-u-e. Clique.". She smiled. I was correct. My classmates were all impressed and confounded and I felt triumphant. I remember vividly feeling like there was a secret I was in on, and I had unlocked it simply by doing something I loved and that came naturally to me: reading.

I had unlocked it by sneaking books outside with me when I was told to put that book down already, go outside and play. I had unlocked it with all those late night (you know, really late for an 11 year old, like 9-10 p.m.) sessions in my room, sneakily reading by the light of the closet, the method for which I had perfected by turning on and cracking the closet door just so: enough light to read by, but not enough to get busted. I'd unlocked it reading by the light of the tiny Christmas tree lights in my room, which I loved so desperately. I'd unlocked it with all those times I brought a book with me everywhere I went, and my poor mother would want to use our solo time in the car together to chat and catch up: But I couldn't help it, I couldn't bear to tear myself away from the words on the page. (I'm sorry, Mom! In my defense, you did have children with someone who magically goes deaf when he has his nose in a book.) (I can't tell you the number of times one of us has stood in front of my Dad's chair while he's reading, calling his name, literally right next to him, and he has been blissfully, completely unaware. These are my genes. I cannot help it. I come by it honestly.) I'd unlocked the secret by befriending the school librarian in fifth grade. She made recommendations for me and would set aside books for me. I'd unlocked it by reading anything I could get my hands on, and letting myself get lost.

Reading was transportation for me. It took me to other places and showed me other ways of thinking, of being, of seeing. It's still that, as an adult. But as a kid, I can still remember the impact of certain books, and how they became part of me as I learned and grew and got to know the world around me, beyond me. Reading taught me things I couldn't have learned anywhere else, and let me safely come home. Reading was an endless selection of windows into different worlds. Reading is very important to me now, but it was important to me then in a way that was different. It's why I've mostly given up on giving cute clothes and shoes to the new babies in my life and instead have taken to giving books, books, books. It's not that I don't love a cute baby in cute clothes, because boy do I ever. It's that the clothes won't last, and the books will, and how often do we get to be part of that in someone's life? My parents recently gave me a stack of books from my childhood, and I found myself gobsmacked at the memories that came flooding back. Things I'd completely forgotten suddenly came to life again on the page, just by reading. A friend of mine told me just yesterday that her tiny son loves the books I got for him, and asks for some of them by reciting some of their lines ("la la la"). It's a privilege to be a part of that. Making memories with books: this is what excites me.

So, Marketing Monday. Reading is important to my writing. I am constantly searching out things I want to read more about. As someone who works for myself, it's one of my primary learning tools outside of the actual work I do for clients. Marketing Monday is a place to share some of those interesting things I find, similarly to how the Friday Find is a way to share anything fun, light, and interesting

This week I want to share this HubSpot article on some samples of really good copywriting: 10 Companies that Totally Nail Copywriting. Also has some good insight if you still want to get your head around more of what copywriters do

Thanks for reading, friends.

Friday Find: Olya Povlatsky

When Kristen Wiig left SNL, I was bummed. She had become one of my favorite comedians, and I thought no one could come close to my love for her. And while I still adore Kristen Wiig (she remains one of my favorite sources for GIFs, among other things), I am so happy to have Kate McKinnon on the show now. She is so talented and has such a wide range. I'm always excited to see her come on the screen, because I know it's going to be good.

One of my all-time favorite characters of hers (aside from her spot-on impression of Justin Bieber) is Olya Povlatsky, especially in its original incarnation in this sketch discussing the winter Olympics in Sochi. I've somehow found myself talking about it several times lately, and it's always my delight to share something I love with more people. There are many lines from it that we regularly quote around my house. I won't spoil any of them for you, though. Enjoy!

PS - Still love you, Kristen. You and Kate are like peanut butter and caramel: I could never choose.

Sweet Josephine

When my husband, Zach, and I moved to San Diego, we were delighted by many things. Burritos with french fries in them, a temperate climate, palm trees, people riding bikes while carrying surfboards (the equivalent, we are certain, of bikes in Paris with a baguette in the basket - put it on your San Diego bingo card), doors and windows open year-round. We were also delighted to learn that the place we'd be living had (has) both lime and mandarin trees on the lanai.

Unless it's exceptionally cold or rainy (so, rarely), we have the doors to the lanai open if we're home. Fresh air, natural light, the neighbors shrieking at each other on occasion, the unbelievably gorgeous smell of lime and mandarin blossoms a few times a year, and, to my delight, hummingbirds.

I don't know that I'd ever seen a hummingbird before moving here. For a long while when we first arrived there was a hummingbird that visited us at the same time every day, around 4pm. If I was home and downstairs, Murphy the cat and I would both perk up when we heard it, and peek out the door to watch our new little friend buzz around the lime tree. This went on for quite some time, and while eventually the daily visits from our new friend stopped, the lime and mandarin trees have remained a favorite of hummingbirds. I've been fascinated and intrigued by them and will always stop to watch when they arrive. Zach describes the way they move as "digitally", and I think that's the perfect description. They move unlike any other bird I've seen - any other animal, in fact. So tiny, so mighty, so beautiful.

I've been wanting to get a hummingbird feeder of some sort in order to indulge my sheer delight in these creatures, but I haven't done so yet. So imagine how excited I was when two days in a row this week a sweet little hummingbird greeted me at the door when I left the house. On the second day she was fewer than two feet from my face, and she hovered there, as if to say hello. I felt a deep connection. I felt moved. Clearly, this little darling was my spirit animal. What did it mean? I googled "hummingbird totem" and "hummingbird spirit animal", I am not ashamed to tell you (yes I am, a little).

On the second day, the day where she had come so close to me it felt like she was trying to tell me something - to maybe connect on a spiritual level - I came home in the afternoon and saw her again and realized she WAS trying to tell me something! And that something was to back the heck away from her nest.

Her nest! Her tiny, adorable, impossibly small and darling nest, built on a swaying branch that Zach had been meaning to trim, right outside our front door. My delight in this cannot be overstated. I'd wondered about hummingbird nests and how tiny they and the eggs must be, and recently came across a picture. It's so hard to capture the scale in a photo (though a Google image search can help), but man. It's as adorable and delightful as you'd imagine. We decided she needed a name, Zach suggested Josephine, and it immediately stuck. Josie. JoJo! Josephine also happens to the name of one of my favorite songs: it's sweet and simple and it seems coincidentally perfect.

I was able to peek into the nest yesterday, and there was one teeny tiny egg, the size of a jellybean. This morning there were two!

Every time I walk by the screen door I check on her. I can even see her silhouette in the dark at night as I peek through the door like some sort of reverse Peeping Tom, and fret over her.

It seems there are so few things in life that bring sheer joy, and for me, this is one of them. If you want to keep updated on my sweet little Josie, I've been posting updates on Twitter with the hashtag #JoJoMa. Fair warning: there are a lot of exclamation points.

Meanwhile, Josie, keep doing your thing.

Photo by Zach. Camouflage by Josephine.

Photo by Zach. Camouflage by Josephine.