Who Killed the Marketing Technopologist?

I’ve been fortunate enough to have had two great roles that explicitly embraced that overlap of marketing, technology, and social interaction–along with a history of that overlap benefiting me in more traditional roles. In both cases, it allowed me to take a holistic, strategic approach to integrated marketing, but neither title clearly communicates that on a resume, so I’m glad the Marketing question has been asked explicitly and I was able to address it head on.

From Team Library to the Reading Room

Having spent the last 12+ years helping legacy print brands navigate the digital transition (excepting that 18-month run building DBW from scratch), I’m excited about the opportunity to jump into the digital present with both feet, no print crutch in sight. I still love the magazine industry and have a fondness for print that will never die, but I couldn’t resist an opportunity to help build something in the digital book world that will challenge me in new ways and allow me to expand upon skills that have always been somewhat constrained in print-centric environments.

TIMESUCK? You’re. Doing. It. Wrong.

There are myriad ways to connect with readers nowadays, both directly and indirectly, but you can’t do it all, nor should you try. Whether you’re a novelist or journalist, poet or pundit, striking the right balance is critical to implementing and sustaining an effective marketing strategy. From websites to social media to live events, this presentation focuses on the value of owned channels, offline/analog engagement, and how to make sure you’re not wasting your time.

Story Chairs, Pocket Poems, and the Fickle Flame of Inspiration

Perhaps it’s just the drama this week offered — from the tragic and inspiring events in Boston, to some big things starting to shake loose at the day job — combining with the unexpected introduction to some good poems, but I’m getting that feeling again, a tentative spark that danced unusually bright in my brain throughout my run this morning. It wasn’t a full-fledged poem, just the beginnings of one, words and ideas tap-dancing to a vaguely familiar rhythm, a lucid dream that lasted for a couple of miles before threatening to fade if I didn’t write them down. So I did, cheating my cooldown and stretching to get to the computer as fast as I could.