Larry Mannino's Blog

Looking at things in a New Way.

All of us tend to get in a rut – maybe not a rut, but routine quietly begins to dominate our lives and we’re not even aware of it. It seems our brains – at least mine anyway, start efficiently processing tasks in an almost robotic manner rather than taking a ‘what if’ approach.

Today, the infomercial buzzword is ‘muscle confusion’ – constantly challenging our bodies in new ways so that we continue to see results. The same could be said, I think, for our brains. When we’re young – and I see this all the time with my kids – everything is new. Kids’ minds fire off all the time and they tend to learn at remarkable rates compared to when we’re older.

I’m not a neuroscientist, but I would guess that the more new stimulation we get, the better our brains do.  I truly believe that at a certain point in our lives, we begin to move away from the ‘new experience’ mindset because we’ve amassed a body of knowledge that is enough to support us and our survival.  Sadly, we then we tend to stay within those channels, admittedly in-part because we’re so damn busy. But I think that’s analogous to the muscle confusion example above, with the early part of one’s life experiencing the most new ‘routines’ to which they must adapt, and then once those are established, there seems to be a general plateau where there is considerably less growth.

This phenomenon applies to creativity, plasticity of thought and the ability to create new solutions and perceive from multiple viewpoints – a skill that is critical to my business – and likely yours on some level, regardless of what you do. You must try new things continually.  It is not optional, unless you’re just into biding your time until you die. And no, this isn’t an old and unreachable saw, either.

Want to know how to do it? Here’s a personal example: This past winter I seemed to be in a comfortable ‘rut’ of sorts – and that’s likely the worst kind as it’s insidious: there’s nothing urgent to spur you to action.  My workouts were the same as always (go to the gym – see no real gains or losses…), my off time was a templated routine of go home eat dinner put the kids to bed, spend some time with my lovely bride, edit manuscript, collapse into bed and my creative work-life was busy but unremarkable.

I didn’t realize that this was even a rut, albeit it a pleasant one.  Like I said, it’s insidious.

Repeated viewings of of the Kettleworx informercial on Saturday mornings actually got the ball rolling.  With the help of my rather perceptive, mentally elastic older daughter Olivia. Truth be told, we’ve been watching – and dissecting – informercials since she was an infant, identifying the triggers and charting the marketing flow – hey, I like my work, and it’s a good way  to show kids how marketing works so they’re not just blindly pulled in by it.

So one day she said “Daddy, we always watch this one – why don’t you get it?”

And on a whim, I did.

And started it, and kept at it religiously (it’s tough – apparently I was in crappy shape –  but it works).

So I left the gym, which gave me more hours in the day that I needed to fill.

So for whatever reason I decided that I wanted to learn  guitar.

One new thing had worked out well, so why not another?

So I tried a lot of guitars (without knowing a single chord, mind you).

And finally settled on a ‘cheap’ Martin OOOX1

Which, driven by my increasing comfort with, and appreciation of trying New Things – and the neuron juicing effect it has – turned into a hobby.

Yes, a Hobby.  Something that I hadn’t had since – not coincidentally –  I was a kid.  With that plastic, try-new-things brain.

Ten months later I’m taking guitar lessons, doing my kettlebell workouts 4-5 days a week and – finally – out of that comfortable rut.  My brain is once again nimble and receptive.  I’ve been reinvogorated.  We’ve actually created a separate division for the development of new projects, because I’m flush with so many ideas. Finished the novel edits and started a new one.  Looking at everything like it’s new – not like in past years when everything flew by so fast.

New ideas.  Because I tried something New.

Try something New.  Today.  And keep at it - push through the initial resistance – I think that’s a key.

It’ll get you going again, and though where that may lead is uncertain, it’ll undoubtedly be interesting.

And have a resonant effect in every aspect of your life.

You might just feel like a (very wise) kid again.

Gonna miss those Sunday morning walks to the end of my driveway...

I’ve finally done it. After much hemming, hawing (what is that, exactly?) and hand-wringing, I’ve gone and cancelled my subscription to the New York Times. It’s bittersweet.
Truth be told, I’m only a Sunday Home Delivery subscriber; the rest of the week I’m too busy to sit down for the Times experience. There’s something about settling down with a broadsheet that I will indeed miss, maybe a sense of exploration, hope and the promise of intellectual rigor that for me was once as much a part of the experience as the journalistic ideas themselves. Note the past tense there.
Especially on Sunday, when the entire heft of the paper was matched by nothing less than a the excitement of expectation and potential, and made real through processed wood pulp. Yes, Kindlites (yes, I have one too, and have warmed to it), the tactile sensation was an important part of the experience.
So, I thought as I hung up the phone having finally severed my umbilical cord from the Gray Lady, what changed?
A lot of things, I guess.
Sure, the op-ed guys like Friedman and Kristof are still terrific, but now that I see them on Morning Joe or somewhere else on the ‘net throughout the week, the anticipation of reading them on Sunday has become somewhat lessened. And I’m happy to recognize the real journalists whose names are not yet brands: the Times still has some truly great folks working the front lines of news – and I still appreciate their analysis and courage.
But some things have changed, that’s for sure. I don’t actually read the whole paper anymore, because somewhere the experience, for me at least, lost that inviting sense of exploration. And that’s probably because the drive to explore is inevitably grounded in the desire to find something new. We explore not to find confirmation of groupthink or agenda, but to truly experience the thrill of discovery.
Now, for some reason, with The New York Times and others, I go in with a sense of what I’m likely to find and most of the time am quite correct, which relegates the entire experience to an exercise of more of the the same.
I want to be enlightened, surprised, challenged and stimulated – that’s what journalism is about. I don’t want to go in with an understanding of ‘well this publication (or site or tv channel)’ is right-leaning, or left-leaning, liberal or conservative, so any conclusion drawn from their ‘reporting’ is molded by their corporate or political editorial policies and thus what I expected and already knew.
That’s a waste of time.
Nor do I want to see content designed only to inflame and capture page views, or to be part of a punchboard designed to ensure that every possible demographic slice has something to relate to, because that’s equally false.
The Times appears to have gone in this direction, becoming less unique, and more and more mainstream; a pop caricature of a previously respected publication relying on a few foundational leftovers to retain a degree of credibility.
I don’t need more of the same. I don’t need People magazine light and a more verbose version of USA today. I don’t want a Book Review that seems so nervous to justify and defend itself that it will only review obscure mid-list fiction in the driest, most convoluted and intellectually snobbish manner possible while casting disdain upon the most popular titles on their own esteemed best seller list in the back of the very same publication.  For God’s sake, man, review at least one popular title a week, even if the author’s name isn’t Jhumpa – most readers like myself actually read all kinds of things – there’s no shame in it, so how about reviewing some less obscure, even popular titles in a more engaging manner – and one in which it doesn’t seem like the reviewer is threatened by or has a bone to pick with the author in question.  That’d be nice, and it keeps me from skipping to the last 2 paragraphs of the review.  A little life and objectivity, please.

Alright, that last part are my gripes, but to be honest, I think that the core of my frustration is in watching a publication that I loved not evolve, but instead decay.  It was a bastion, and a comfort.  It would always be there, and it would always be important and credible.  But then decisions were made to broaden it’s appeal not based on its inherent strength, but instead on a more populist approach.  Smaller, more digestible and less satisfying.  Like fast food.

It has become diluted; an also-ran among many.  And in an age where I can cherry-pick my news sources, I need a reason to both pay for and rely on one.  I need something that I can’t get somewhere else, and for me, anyway, the New York Times is no longer that thing.  Funny, but I started writing this not to pen an indictment, but instead to explore just why this was such a troubling decision for me.  Like many forms of art, honest writing remains a strong means for exploring the things that matter most.

Perhaps newspapers need to remind themselves of the incredible power of the tools of their trade – good writing, honesty, research and courage –  instead of trying to trade these tools for ephemeral gain.

Welcome to Ruby Friendapplebeefridays! Enjoy your blandwich!

“Alright, guys, where do you wanna go for Dinner?”  That’s a standard question in our car whenever our family – my wife  and I and our 2 young daughters – are heading home from somewhere but too far away to get there before a meltdown.  I suspect it’s replayed thousands of times a day across the country: typical family that needs a place to eat.

“Friendly’s!” comes the inevitable, excited response from the peanut gallery in the back seat, and that’s just fine with me.  Or at least it had been until a couple of months ago, which was the last time I’d visited our local branch of the ubiquitous, quintessential family no-brainer.

For years, and especially since we had kids, we’d always chosen Friendly’s – even when amidst the other usual suspects.  In fact, we’d even go out of our way to go to a Friendly’s (not too far, mind you, but up the street a bit if need be…). Why?  Because it was safe, clean bright affordable, dependable, consistent and happy.

You had fun at Friendly’s.  It was ok – even encouraged – to bring the kids.  It could get a little loud, and there were often kids tearing off downthe aisles or begging for ballons or a little wired over too much ice cream, but it was Friendly’s.You knew what you were getting, and that was good enough.

Until a few Months ago, that is…

Because a few months ago, on that fateful day when we last walked into our Friendly’s I knew right away that something was amiss.  And it was the marketing that screamed death knell more loudly than any financial report ever could.

What I saw made my jaw drop: a classic example of choosing Blanding over Branding’ in the face of fear. Gone was the old-fashioned Friendly’s clock, and the huge old-fashioned mural of the rural small town fair.  Gone were the balloons and the fun pictures and colorful ribbon-trim wallpaper than ran around the top of the place.  Gone was the reliable menu, the kitschy-toned table-talkers and less-then-hi-tech stuff for the kids.  All vestiges of the unique Brand that Friendly’s was wiped clean, surgically scrubbed. Eradicated. All Gone.

And in its place, The Dreaded Blanding…

They seemed to settle on the amalgamative approach: assembling a de-facto brand-expereince from the parts of what seemed to be working for their competitors.  The Applebees local pictures + the wallpaper from the somewhat recently (and successfully) re-imaged Ruby Tuesdays.  The menu-style of Friday’s, and the table sense of a Chili’s or Chipolte.  A big, bland Frankensteinian assembly devoid of any character or impact.

Uh-oh, I thought, looking around.  And my thoughts were compounded by my children’s disappointment.  It was no longer a fun place.  A friendly place. In it’s place, the husk of a whitewashed soul reeking of decisions driven not by marketing creatives, but by accountants.  More of the same, and in a time when more of the same leads to a slow but inevitable death.

So today, it’s no surprise.  Not to me, anyway.  But then again, that’s my job.

You see, marketing, advertising, brand development – these things are all careful choices that come together to put a public face on a business, and create in large part the perception of that business by the consumer.  It’s the mask and makeup that a business wears, and through which it expresses itself.  Its outward appearance, if you will.

When a business – or person – suddenly plays it safe and chooses to slip into the safety of the pack, something’s dreadfully wrong.  It shows a lack of confidence, even wekaness.  It says “I need to tread water for awhile, to just get by’.

Treading water’s not a strategy; its an admission of trouble.  Unless you’re rescued or can swim your way to safety, treading water only postpones the inevitable.  You’re going down, sooner or later.

So when I saw Friendly’s suddenly going the safe route, abandoning it’s brand equity in a frenzied attempt to broaden its appeal through the unoriginal wide-cast, it was all I needed to know.  That strategy ALWAYS backfires,  much in the way as the Jack of All Trades approach.  Your brand – whether it is individual or corporate – needs to be unique.

You can’t rely onthe consumer to put in the effort to discern which of your broad choices is right for them in a sea of ‘the same’.  Instead, you have to take the risk of defining your brand as sharply and uniquely as possible.  No, you won’t appeal to everybody, but the ones that you do appeal to will become loyal repeat customers, and they are considerably more valuable than a large group of maybes.

So the take away: your marketing speaks volumes beyond its actual content.  If you want to know about a company, look at how it presents itself from a marketing standpoint.  Is it confident and assured, or nervous and jumpy?

Just like people, those are the only tea leaves you need to accurately read the future of a situation.

What, you're still here? Turn off the damn machine and go home!

Everybody’s scared these days. It’s true. Take a look around – or inside – and you’ll see it. The constant whispers of ‘what if’ and ‘could that be me next week?’ as you see some stock news footage of long lines of suit-clad people clutching resumes because a job opened up somewhere in some other state.

And, in this age of 24/7 media saturation and the ability to be constantly plugged in, we’re all exposed to it way too much.  The problem is that we’ve become conditioned: we’d like to walk away sometimes but fear that if we miss something, we’ll miss everything, and the structured life we’re holding on to so desperately will turn to dust beneath our fingers.

I wonder sometimes if this all started on that clear September morning about a decade ago, or if that was merely the fuse to ignite a confluence of events already in place.  Logically, if 9/11 had happened in, say, 1980, I think that there’s an argument to be made that while horribly tragic, the resonant effect would have been considerably shorter: we would have been exposed to it maybe once or twice a day back then. The 6pm broadcast news and maybe a daily paper would have been our only reminders over the course of the day, provided we didn’t know someone who died there personally (like so many others, I had a friend who never made it out that day).  This lack of information-delivery systems would have left the other 23 hours or so open to doing other things and getting away from it a bit.  And getting some time to allow the wound to heal.

Fast forward to 2001, however, and we had 24-hour news cycles and the internet.  I’ll posit that these things keep that wound from healing over completely, and allowing for recovery.  And the same applies to the recent economic crisis and its effects: we simply can’t seem to get away from it and recover.

And as viewers or clicks somehow equal money, I don’t think it’s overly cynical to suggest that the news channels and information sources are well aware of the fact that if they keep the fear fire stoked, we’ll continue to tune in.  Here’s the Truth: There will never be a recovery if we don’t allow ourselves to recover.  And that means walking away long enough to gain distance and clarity, and truly assess not what’s happening in a Stock Market that most of us don’t understand but, instead, working on the small part of our own individual universes – our communities and businesses – that we actually do understand and in which we live, have a degree of control and can make a difference.

Curiously, this was actually going to be a post about something else,  but now I think there’s enough here to digest for today.  Small steps.

Y'know, maybe Abercrombie's not a great fit for me after all...

I heard the news today that Abercrombie & Fitch has decided to pay off the Jersey Shore gang in an effort to distance their brand sensibility from those of those crazy fun-lovin’ kids from Joisey.

Oh Boy.

What a misstep on the part of Abercrombie’s brand guardians and PR folks. But it did bring up some interesting questions from the brandosphere.

Curiously enough, these days I think that the argument can be made that, while one can define, create and curate and brand message in an ongoing fashion – an approach called ‘brand journalism’ by some folks in this industry – the reality is that in today’s social media marketplace, there are limitations to the amount of control a company has. Brand strategists and content providers can launch and shepherd and brand, but once it’s out the door and on the street, it’s truly and organic beastie. There’s simply no way to completely control a mass-market brand. Period. End of story.

All that can be done by guys like me is to define and build a brand foundation, develop a compelling story, and provide content and touch-points that perhaps can guide the conversation a bit. And, honestly, in a consumer-empowered world, that’s exactly the right approach. Build it and set it free, then gently guide it as it evolves: think of your brand as a living, constantly evolving organism that interacts with customers along its life path.

In the case of Abercrombie (and yes, I am aware that everybody got publicity out of this, and that ANF is down about 10% as I write this), the attempt to cast the widest possible net for customers, and then decide that some of the fish should be thrown back because they don’t meet some artificial standard (sorry, there is no Abercrombieville or Fitchburg to which we can travel – it’s a marketing construct, people) smacks of hypocrisy.

And in a new world of two-way brand communication, I’m afraid that A&F is going to learn a tough lesson.

Bagel Logic: Almost as good as Pretzel Logic.

(or, Why How you Cut a Bagel Says Everything about You and Your Business) 

It’s True.  How you cut a bagel says everything about you, your business, your state of mind – in short, the current state of your life. Really.

This morning I decided to have a bagel for breakfast.  I took it out of the bag, held it loosely and, with a couple of smooth easy strokes, sliced it neatly in two.   It was easy and enjoyable and a far cry from just a couple of months ago when I had my last bagel.  That bagel taught me a lesson…

The Bagel of Revelation: The Backstory.

You see, for the better part of the past two years I’ve been pushing pretty hard, project after project.  Usually two or three big project deadlines all at once, plus a half-dozen or so daily or weekly requests from right field, and the usual ‘maintenance’ account work – the things that you can pretty much schedule, but take their share of time.  As soon as I’d put one project to bed, there would be another on the horizon.  Some people would be envious, and truly I was thankful to have this workload given the state of confusion (a throw to The Kinks there…) these days, but honestly, looking back, I was doing myself,  my work – and my life –  a disservice.

You see, I was holding on a little too tight, and taking on way too much.  There, I’ve said it.  Success wasn’t the problem but, for lack of a better term,  creeping fear was.  There were plenty of clients and jobs I should’ve walked away from – bad timing, wrong fit – even my gut saying no.  Maybe it was just  a result of the interminable agitative media messaging that permeates everyone’s daily life.  Did I dare say no to a project?  That’d be crazy, right?  Grab it, I’d say inside.  I can handle it, right?

Actually, yes, I could.  And no, I couldn’t.

I haven’t gone entirely schizo with that last bit – anyone who owns a small business will get this: you often say yes when you really should say no.  Why?  Because you’re grinding along trying to meet projected expenses and trying to tamp down the ‘what if?’ whispers of a worst case scenario that plays about at the back of your mind, prodding you late at night and always nudging you forward to take just this one project, just in case…

But the reality is that there’s always another project, or another client.  And that’s both the curse…and the blessing. Because there really always is more work out there, regardless of what the Hard-Eyed Bottle Blondes (Fox), or the Fear-Drumming News Regurgitators (CNN, though my apologies to Fareed Zakaria there)  feed you to keep you riveted.  You just need to move, and adapt and stay open and flexible; apply what you know to the new and you’ll be fine.  Sure, I knew that intellectually, but I didn’t really get it until…

… The Bagel of Insight.

It was a poppy seed bagel – not my favorite, but it’d do.  Problem was, it was uneven; thicker on one side, thinner on the other. And I was fried from the aforementioned grind of taking on too much for the wrong reasons, the effects of which had permeated my non-work life as well.  So, wired on coffee, I grabbed a knife, stood the ill-formed bagel on its edge on the cutting board, placed the blade against it and then roofed my hand over that to hold it as I cut.

The knife was very sharp, the cutting board old and wooden with a little warp to it, the counter slick and the bagel (as mentioned) misshapen at best.

That bit of fear – all those what-if variables – dangerous, unstable and unpredictable – made me really grip the bagel tightly, and try and keep the whole construct from collapsing.

Sure, when I gripped the bagel tightly, I felt like I had things under control, but really, holding on with that death-grip made things more dangerous than ever.  I was working harder to push every stroke of the knife through because I was squeezing so hard to stay in control.  With every push, sawing forward and back, I was bearing down on the weight of the whole shaky stack and making the cutting board slide precipitously on the countertop.

All because I was afraid, and wanted to stay in control…or at least the appearance of it.

But all this pushing and pulling and sawing and squeezing got in the way of my being able to get the job done right.  The knife sliced too far one way then, about halfway through, I squeezed tighter and forced it harder.  It made a wide, shallow ‘V’ shape and then nearly folded in on itself.

This attempt at total control - instead of of easing back and letting things just work – bore results that were exactly the opposite of what I wanted in the first place.

Looking down at my pile of crumbled bread and useless bagel parts I realized what I’d done…and what it really meant.  Which was worth far more than the price of a bagel, to be sure.

Bagelogue:

I worked late last night – ’til maybe 1:30 am or so, then got up this morning and got right back to it. But this time it was ok, because now I’m back to the ‘want to’ mode.  It’s been a couple of months and there’s still plenty of work to fill the day, but loosening up on the reigns had been like getting some extra oxygen: my mind is nimble and creative again, and I’m seeing those crazy connections come to me instead of  forcing them to happen under to pressure of a  too heavy workload.  As a result,  my work’s getting better again, which makes the phone ring.  But now, sometimes, I politely say no when I have to.  The good clients appreciate that.

I’ve learned to let go and let it flow.  As a creative I think you’ve got to build some slack space into your head so that there’s room for the ideas when they show up. Now I’m having fun again. And I’m more productive and insightful, seeing those crazy connections and hearing the words as they fall into place.  And my clients seem happier than ever.  Go figure.

Single-handedly bringing back men's hats (not the hipster ones, mind you) - this one's a Stetson Walton Outback.

One of our clients is a BioFuel provider and advocate, so we do a lot of research trying to figure out why everyone doesn’t use biofuels (I use them at home without a hitch, and I don’t even like granola…). We knew about Talisman Terry and Chesapeake Charlie, but this Stephen Colbert bit is worth seeing, whatever your stance on the issue -

Been busy, but here’s a nice little piece that I came across – enjoy!

Yeah, yeah...I'll Leave When It's Done...

A few weeks ago I came across the cartoon (below) on Gapingvoid.com – Hugh MacLeod’s site.  It struck me then but, as I’m always moving, I filed it to the desktop for later.  Today being the day before the Fourth of July Weekend, I was putting some loose ends to bed and clearing off my desktop (so that it would be nice and shiny when I get back to the office Tuesday morning),I happened to find it and took another look.

He’s right.  Creativity’s not a talent – at least not in the traditional sense.  It’s a way of looking at things. Constantly.  The mechanism through which we (as creatives) interpret the world.  I think that people can be talented at something, and then put it down for awhile and walk away, but being a true creative is different.  It’s constant.

In fact, if creatives weren’t creatives, we’d probably all go nuts, because my take is that true creatives can never get away from it.  It’s how we’re wired.  It’s why we feel naked without (in my case), having a little Moleskin pad and favorite pen or pencil squirreled away at all times, and we’d never dream of going to bed without having the same equipment bedside, just in case.  It’s why, even with a particular area of talent, we never limit ourselves to that niche, but instead see the possibilities outside of our wheelhouse.

Being creative is wholly subjective – a lens through which we interpret the world and a means of ingesting, making sense of, and recreating with these little parts and pieces of life that we take in and pull and push and stack and rework like Silly Putty.

Right now, as some of you know, I’m finishing up the final (and I mean FINAL) full edit on a manuscript.  This is tough stuff, because I know I’m not going to be done, but at least I’ve reached the point where I can comfortably hand it off to agent and editor and say ‘that’s it, your turn’.  And maybe that’s as close as I can get to done, because I could just as easily hold on to it and keep kneading it through.

But it occurred to me recently that, while I could actually do that, I would in a sense be penning writing a perpetual book, a stream instead of a pool, and putting away the past parts that were no longer relevant to my my current state, while working in new thoughts and experiences.  And I realized that it might not ever end.

So that’s it – this one needs to go.  And it will.  Because I’m already working on the next one in the series, and I have to get to it!

At work, as my clients will tell you, I tend to look at everything from a hundred different angles, and then a hundred more.  Fortunately, there is the reality of deadline there  (and there are many to be met), but even in that environment I get what MacLeod’s saying: it’s a drive.

My word of advice to fellow creatives?  Work it damn hard, but then let it go.  And if the only way to do that is to think that in doing so you can  apply your continual drive to new projects, then so be it.

But don’t expect it to stop; if you’re a true creative, you’re ok with that.