It’s much easier to risk your time on a movie, book or article when you already know what to expect. And our culture is starting to reflect that. Take a look at the top grossing movies of 2011. The top 9 – every single one of them – are sequels. Keep going down the list and you’ll see movies based on novels, comic books, TV shows and cartoon characters. Original screenplays are far and few between.

Familiarity with the story or characters makes shelling out $15 for a movie ticket much less scary. But have we reached the point where we’re scared of anything new?

But it’s not just the movies. The following exhausted blog posts continue to show up in my feeds:

•  Ten Easy Content Ideas
•  Nine Ways to Use [Insert Social Media Platform Here] to Promote Your Business
•  Eight PR Trends for the New Year
•  Seven Tips for Managing Millennials
•  Six PR Lessons From [Insert PR Disaster Here]
•  Five Public Relations Myths
•   Four Mistakes Every PR Pro Makes
•  A Three-Step Guide for Improving Your PR Efforts
•  Two Skills Every PR Pro Needs
•  The One Corporate Buzzword We All Need to Stop Using

And my favorite…“Is Public Relations Dead?”

You’ve probably read most of these. Sadly enough, despite my goal to limit consumption, I would probably still click on some of them. They contain the secret to all my problems! But if I am going to retain my sanity and actually derive value from what I choose to read, I have to refrain.

Let me be clear – I am not against the idea of the previously mentioned posts. I’m also not against anything with numbered lists, bullet points (obviously), lessons, tips or best practices. I am against link bait, repetitive content and unoriginal thinking.

Fortunately, there is plenty of original content out there – you just need to know where to look. Here are a few of my favorites:

Fast Company

Inc.

Seth Godin

PSFK

Wired

All of these consistently provide content that I find myself actually reading (not just skimming). I also find myself saving, sharing and acting on what I read.

Stay tuned for next week’s post: Top Ten Ways to Rid Yourself of Useless Content. (I jest!)

The “C” word is everywhere these days. No, not that one. I’m talking “content.” And lately I’ve been having moments where I’m sick of both producing and consuming it. Nothing seems new or interesting anymore – instead, I’m seeing retweets and repeats that I feel like I’ve already read…even if I haven’t.

I often abstain from writing on this very blog because I don’t feel like I’m contributing anything new or valuable. Why add to the mess? I often check my Twitter feed only to realize I’ve been paying zero attention to what I’ve been scrolling through for the past 20 minutes. Why did I just waste my time?

Content fatigue is nothing new. In fact, I’ve written about it before. I blame social media. I blame smartphones. I blame wi-fi.

But mostly, I blame myself. I’m not careful about how and when I consume content. I click on links in my Ragan’s Daily Headlines email because I feel like I should – that this one article could be the very thing that sparks a new idea, makes the organization I work at a million dollars and saves the world. (That, and I’m a total sucker for link bait.)

So I click on the link, only to read the same way everyone else does: scan the headline, sub-headlines, bold text and bullet points. (This is no secret – talk to any marketer that creates content and they’ll tell you to use these formatting tools not just for SEO purposes, but because in all likelihood, no one’s actually reading this stuff. They’re just scanning it. Analytics of the average time spent on a page can support this.)

But by apathetically scanning that article for (probably less than) 5 minutes, I have in all likelihood failed to remember or learn anything. As a result, I most certainly won’t be acting on any newfound information.

I have a quote from a Huffington Post article by Don Tapscott that I printed out and posted on my desk at work. It reads, “…aspire to have a strong capacity to perceive and absorb information effectively, concentrate, remember, infer meaning, be creative, write, speak and communicate well, and to enjoy important collaborations and human relationships. How could you design your use (or abstinence) of media to achieve these goals?”

(Can I point out the absurdity in this? The only piece of content I’ve consumed in roughly the past year or so that resonated so much, I felt compelled to print it out, is about the consumption of content.)

So I’m going to put that quote into action by attempting the following:

1.  Limit access to content.

I’m subscribed to probably a dozen or so daily emails, several RSS feeds and a couple dozen blogs in my Google Reader. While I don’t plan to unsubscribe, I’m no longer going to feel bad about letting them going unread. I will mark them as read or delete at free will and try to contain the feeling that somewhere in there I’ve missed out on the Meaning of Life.

2.  Read more fiction.

I find it much more satisfying to become completely enveloped in a fiction story for hours on end than reading twenty blog posts in twenty minutes. And I argue that my brain is creating way more wrinkles doing the former than the latter.

3.  Limit distractions while consuming content.

It’s just not possible to pay attention to what I’m reading when I keep clicking between an article, my inbox, Twitter, another article and back again. And I’ve found myself doing this mid-sentence while reading (or maybe better put, “scanning”). When I decide something is worth my time, I am going to make a conscious effort to pay attention, read whole sentences, and stop checking to see if my boss emailed me back yet.

So there you have it – my plan to eradicate content fatigue. And if you’re still reading this, congratulations on your attention span, and thank you for deciding my content was worth your time.

Seth says you can’t deliver on all “nevers.” (Read the post if you don’t know what I’m talking about. Seth is wonderfully insightful in just 87 words.) I’m not going to kid you – my initial reaction was, “Well why can’t I deliver all of them?  Why can’t I just deliver perfection? How about I just never make a mistake?”

And believe me, I try. I try to never miss a deadline, leave a typo or be late for a meeting. I’ve also earned a reputation for being a control freak (though I prefer to think of it as being detail-oriented). But in reality I’ve done all three of those this week alone (admittedly, it was a bad week).

What grates me is that these mistakes are usually caused by failing to think things through, rushing through a project, a lack of attention to detail. All (mostly) preventable.

I would almost – almost – rather suffer through a major failure. Major failures mean you took a risk. You tried something new. Major failures mean there’s a lesson to be learned. The only lesson you have to learn from leaving a typo is to use spell check – and that’s most likely something you already knew.

Lucky me, those big failures are just as certain to come about as any small mistake.

So when we (as marketers) begin to over-estimate our brand’s ability to get through that buzzing noise, take a step back. Ask yourself: would you click the link or hit delete? Watch the commercial or change the channel? Stop by the booth or divert your eyes?

Most of the time, I’m doing the latter – and so are our customers – even with brands I know and trust. The question remains, then: What are you doing differently than your competitors to cut through the buzz?

When you speak to your customers – through email, on the phone, or even on Twitter – are you speaking their language? Are you talking about “mobile devices” when your customers are calling them “cell phones”? (Or do they say “smart phones”? Or even “smartphones”?)

Yes, it matters.

I eat hamburgers, not ground beef patties. I wear shoes, not footwear. And, since I’m from Buffalo, I drink pop – not soda. (But that’s an argument for another day.)

Writing creative, intelligent or witty marketing copy is fine and dandy – but you have to speak the language of your customers, first and foremost. Otherwise you risk appearing pompous, snide or worse yet, completely ignorant about the very people you’re trying to talk to.

I’d like to start by sincerely apologizing for my absence.  It’s time to start up again. The sad thing is, this subtle hint to your right (or would it be your left?) was written by a well-meaning friend over a year ago. But I’m finally back. I hope.

Here’s the thing about blogging: it takes time and commitment. So does just about anything else that will improve your life and well-being: eating healthier, exercising more, reading more novels, learning to play the cello, mastering a second language. But if you don’t make it a priority, it’ll never happen.

So I’m going to try to make this a priority again. To be perfectly honoest, dear Blog, I didn’t know what busy was until recently, and despite myself, my best intentions of coming back to this place have fallen flat.

Here’s to one more try.

Truly yours,
Kelly

I’ve always called work in the non-profit sector a “good karma” job. I may be barely paying the bills, but at the end of the day, I knew I made a difference.  Unfortunately, the non-profit field isn’t always presented as a career choice in colleges and universities.  My education, in particular, taught me that I was to take unpaid summer internships in the city (LA, Boston, New York – take your pick), then take an entry-level position at a communications agency in that same city.

I, however, fell into a different track.  After an internship at a local non-profit, I began to consider the benefits of getting paid to do something personally fulfilling and beneficial to the community at large.  I was fortunate enough to get hired at that same non-profit after graduation, and have been there since (that is, until this Friday).

Non-profit work needs to be presented as an option to graduating seniors. It is clear that there is work to be done to improve this world. I know, I know, the job market, the economy, the lay-offs, the budget cuts, etc. etc.  As far as I can see, it’s no worse than the corporate world. Sometimes it’s even a little better.

Non-profits are usually (I venture to say “always”) under-staffed and short on resources. A recent graduate can take advantage of this – I was able to get my hands on projects that were clearly outside my job description, but great resume-building experience. I dabbled in event planning, PR, marketing, campaign execution, social media, finance, strategic planning, community relations and design – all experiences a corporate position would not have afforded me.

Now, after this life-changing, amazing experience, I’m officially ready to move on to something new: the corporate world. One friend accused of me going to the “dark side.” Not true. I can continue giving back, just in a different sort of way – I’ve gained the knowledge, resources, and most importantly, the drive to make it happen.  Yes, I’ll be working in a for-profit environment. However, I will be working for a company that values volunteerism, philanthropy and community as much as I do. It was extremely important to me that I found a company whose values mirrored mine – but only because of my non-profit experience. (Two years ago, I would have said yes to Altria.)

See you on the dark side.

You’ve probably heard of Dunbar’s number – the maximum number of stable, social relationships a human can maintain.  The number most often thrown around is 150—meaning humans can have 150 relationships in which he or she knows who each person is, and how that person fits in with their social circles.  Chances are, that number you came up with from my not-so-scientific formula above is far beyond that.  If you are close to 150, all I can say is, you’re either really, really picky about who you connect with online, or nobody likes you.  If it’s the latter, I’m sorry for pointing out your unpopularity.

So how do your Facebook friends, Twitter followers and LinkedIn connections fit in with the concept of Dunbar’s number?  Not very well, as far as I’m concerned.  There comes a time when you reach maximum capacity as far as the ability to check every status update and tweet, let alone interact with each of those individuals.  After all, I follow @ConansSquirrel on Twitter, but I can’t exactly brag to anyone that I’m BFF with the squirrel in Conan O’Brien’s backyard.

I use social media for a lot of reasons, but at the end of the day, Twitter doesn’t pour me a glass of wine and let me bitch about my day or drive me to work when I’m having car trouble.  So here’s a bit of motherly advice: don’t forget your Dunbar number, and the people that actually fit within that realm.

Marketing departments can absolutely create videos that have the qualities of popular viral videos, but that doesn’t make them viral.  When your marketing department creates a video that’s funny, seemingly unplanned and purposely amateur in appearance and quality, it’s not viral.  If millions of people see it (largely due to a sophisticated SEO plan and money to back up its promotion), it’s still not viral.  It’s just popular (but usually not even as popular as real viral videos).

Just remember…we see through your fake viral videos anyways.  And it feels cheap.  Stop trying to dupe us and state the obvious: that you’re trying to advertise to us.  We’re used to being advertised to; it doesn’t offend us.  What offends us when you try to convince us that some one “just like us” made the video, instead of a multi-national corporation with a 10-person marketing department, a flip cam and 2 weeks of research and development behind it.

Why do Marketing Execs insist on the creation of “viral” video anyways?  Instead, what you should focus on is producing quality material (funny optional, poignant works well, too) that will enable your consumers to connect with your company in a meaningful way.  A great example is Coca-Cola’s Happiness Machine.  It’s an obvious advertisement for Coca-Cola, but will leave you smiling.

Really?  Don’t we already know this?

Remember Kindergarten, when you were told not to talk to strangers?  (Sorry, I had to.)  Well, we’re all old enough to talk to strangers, but we still need to be careful.  Over-sharing is the new black these days, and I’m not always sure it’s to anyone’s benefit.

Let me start by staying I. Do. Not. Care. that you’re at Joe’s Java Shack or on the corner of 5^th and South.  What am I supposed to do with this information?  Chances are, we don’t live in the same city, and if we do, I’m not going to stalk you out and meet you there.  I know, I know—so unfollow you, right?  Done.  (I may have already done so.)  Foursquare users, I have nothing against you, but I just don’t get it.  Maybe someday, like hating on sushi and Blackberrys, I’ll eat my words.  Somehow I doubt it.

There seems to be this phenomenon of perceived audience versus actual audience for information shared online.  I have to remind myself of this every time I sign on to Facebook and post a status.  It’s not just my real-life friends (perceived audience) who are going to read it.  My boss, my grandmother, kids I don’t remember from high school, and totally random people who apparently thought my profile picture wasn’t too offensive-looking may also see it (actual audience).

Yes, there are privacy settings.  Yes, I have them set meticulously.  But nothing posted online is ever completely private.  Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V people.  It’s that easy.

Similarly, I have to remind myself when I’m on Twitter that this information will be shared with THE WORLD (even though 99.9999% of the world doesn’t give a damn).  Quite frankly, I don’t want the whole world knowing where I am at all times.  I’m cool with a little mystery.  My former roommate used to go on excursions all the time without telling anyone, and while it bugged me as her roommate, I understood the need to go off the radar for a little bit.

My rant boils down to this: if you wouldn’t tell that creepy looking guy who hangs out in your parking lot at work, maybe it’s best not to post it online.  You’re allowed to talk to strangers now, but in the words of Spider-Man, “with great power comes great responsibility.”