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Buzz Buzz Buzz…

I’ve spent a large part of the past month applying to jobs. Since many of these are writing jobs, I’ve toiled long and hard over the perfect cover letter, figuring that if the sole quality I’m selling is my supposed mastery of the written word, I better well as heck communicate something Pulitzer Prize-worthy in the only representation of myself to a company. (No pressure, you know?)

On this fun Friday, I thought I’d share the cover letter I wrote a few weeks ago for BuzzFeed’s Fellowship program. In a moment of “who-cares-they-likely-won’t-read-it-anyway”, I decided to write something a little different, in the style of Buzzfeed. Not going to lie: a small part of me thought that if I could make it go as viral as one of Buzzfeed’s cat videos, well, maybe just maybe I’d have better luck getting my application through the black hole of online submission.

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Dear Buzzfeed,

I could humor you for several paragraphs on why I want to be a BuzzFeed Fellow but it’s pretty obvious. Who doesn’t want their friends to gawk, “OMG you get to look at cute cats all day?!” That would be a very clear win.

In all seriousness, I like cats but am a newshound more than anything. I’ve been an avid consumer of news since well before the days of GIFs and viral lists. I loyally watched the 6:30 evening broadcast as a child, which resulted in a serious crush on Tom Brokaw’s stately baritone voice.  Having since reported for local and national news mediums, I can comfortably write and produce the full range of content – 800-word articles and videos- at rapid newsroom pace. But additionally, I spend a large portion of my day following hashtags and tweeting 140 characters of wisdom @heyguey.  Times have regressed, they say. However, I see the most apathetic of my friends taking an interest in content – cat videos AND heavier matters alike – and to me, that’s progress. Social news gets people engaged. I want to learn how to make serious journalism go viral. I’m already a natural sharer (ask my pre-K pals- I always shared Lunchables, Dunkaroos, and even Gushers!). Yet I also realize there’s more to virality than simply tweeting and posting things to Facebook.

Truthfully, I am probably no more qualified for a Fellowship than the majority of your applicant pool.  There are many talented writers and editors who can do what I do: write, curate, and generate buzz. So I’m going to simply tell you a little bit about myself,BuzzFeed style. Maybe it will go viral, most likely it won’t.  My simple hope is that, at the very least, you’ll get a laugh out of it.

5 Things You Should Know About Me

Through Embarrassing Videos I’ve Made

 1. In my spare time, I chase zombies.

 2. Everyone has a story so I won’t stop asking questions until I hear it.

 3. Weight loss programs follow me on Twitter.

 4. I’m Asian.

 5. Why I’m Not in Broadcast Anymore.

In short, I am a pesky Asian reporter who likes eating food, chasing zombies, and making Blair Witch-style videos. I care deeply about meaningful content. It excites me to read impactful stories on BuzzReads and easy-to-read conversations on BuzzFeedBrews. I also want good writers to make a living, which is why I am eager to learn more about sponsored content and native advertising. I believe journalism could use a boost from BuzzFeed’s understanding of human emotion and the way we share. My goal as a BuzzFeed Fellow is to create and aggregate content in a way that advances the conversation and brings journalism back to its watchdog roots.

If given the opportunity to join BuzzFeed, I will be absolutely bold and enterprising. I already consume and generate content like it’s my job…so it might as well be.

Hope to hear from you.

Best,

Lynne Guey

——–

I never heard back which is okay. In fact, it’s more relieving than anything that no one watched those videos. Last night I saw the founders Jonah Peretti and Ken Lehrer speak at Columbia and I paused for a nanosecond fearing that they would recognize me as the kooky Asian girl who applied to their company with these silly, poorly done videos. Then, I remember that they don’t read the intern applications. Plus, a whole department there makes a living looking for pictures of cute animals.  What is more silly than that? No shame. In this day and age, just be yourself and share away. Happy Friday!

Posted by  |  May 3, 2013 | Categories: Journalism, Social Media | Tags: , , | Leave A Comment »

Experimenting with Isolation

It started with a simple suggestion.

When I was teaching in Italy two summers ago, one of my host Dads suggested that I check into a nunnery.  Something told me this wasn’t a compliment.  I didn’t think spending all day with 8-year old Italian children had made me that wild, but who knows. Then he clarified,

“I recommend it for everyone. Silence can be good. We all need to be alone sometimes.”

Those words stuck. Not so much the nunnery part, but being alone. Up to that point, solitude had been a bit of a foreign concept. In college, I was pretty social and regarded as an extrovert. That summer too, I was constantly surrounded by people: at camp with students during the day, at home with my host family at night, and at various destinations with camp counselors on my travels in between. My sole alone time was before going to bed or in the shower . He’s right, I thought. I could use some alone time.

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This is what I imagine the solitary road to look like.

Since then, I’ve held an odd fascination with isolation. I’d dream of going on my own “Eat Pray Love” sabbatical. I found myself leaving a lot of social functions early to be alone. I arranged my current living space so I could spend a lot of time with myself.  I live with strangers who work long hours and are usually out of the apartment, so my space is my space and my time my time. It may sound strange, but I’m really comfortable with it. Spending nights holed in my room reading and writing, once uncommon for me, is now routine.

I still had never traveled alone. I tried several times that summer in Italy but somehow there was always something that got in the way (a last minute travel partner or cancelled trains)…I even ended up looking into nunneries but they were quite pricey and I couldn’t communicate with the nuns on the phone.

Then, two weekends ago, a $89 round-trip Amtrak deal to Montreal floated into my inbox. My first inclination was to share it with friends in New York to see if they wanted to join me on an adventure. But then I realized that this was my chance! This could be my “eat pray love”. My itinerary. My trip.

Selfishness ignited. Alone I went. 2 nights and a full day in Montreal, 18 hours on the train (9 hours each way), a little over 40 hours in Montreal, for a grand total of 60 hours in isolation. I was so EXCITED.

Of course, it wasn’t complete isolation. There were people around. I talked. People talked to me (sometimes in French). It wasn’t a silent retreat. The majority of my exchanges revolved awkwardly around my standalone nature.  This is a typical conversation when people saw me eating by myself:

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“Um, no. just me.”

“Are you visiting Montreal?”

“Yeah, for the weekend. Wanted to get away from New York.” (my way of signaling I wanted to end the conversation)

“Ohh, I see.”

At which point people would cautiously back away, assuming my boyfriend had just dumped me or I was a stressed out New Yorker on the brink of a meltdown, and that basically my life was in shambles. None of which was true, of course. Not entirely at least.

Most of the time, I kept to myself. The best part was the efficiency. By 4 pm Saturday, I had climbed Mont Royal, suffered near cardiac arrest waiting an hour in line for the city’s best poutin, embarrassed myself by bargaining at a Quebec designer’s fashion sale (note to self: it is not proper protocol to bargain outside of Asia), and consumed a half bottle of wine at a university cafe (judged by onlooking McGill University students studying for finals).

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In drunken glory, I reached the peak of my trip when I trudged through two feet of snow to the top of Mont Royal, 200 meters above ground to the sight of a city blanketed in white. The awe and wonder lasted about 42 seconds. I didn’t have anyone to ooh and ah with. So, as I slid back down the slippery slope of the mountain, I wondered – ‘What next?” If I’d been traveling with others, we would be running behind schedule (which would have surely been frustrating) but that wasn’t the problem. This time, I didn’t know what to do. I had no one to share the beautiful sight with. What’s more is that it was nearing happy hour and I was far from happy. Somehow in a matter of minutes, I had fallen from my highest high at the top of Mont Royal to major depressive disorder.

I mustered the energy to enter a bar, order a beer, and make friends. Something told me the latter probably wouldn’t happen when I pulled out my phone and discovered free wi-fi.  ”No, Lynne, no.” I connected anyway. 15 minutes later, I was entering my 8th completed cycle of the vicious Facebook-Instagram-Twitter -Gmail wheel, which is where the anti-social part of this saga begins. Few things I can say with certainty, but I say with the surest certainty that scrolling through your social media feeds while surrounded by real living human flesh is the quickest way to feel like the loneliest person in the world. I left the bar a complete mute.

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My peaceful, solitary view from the train

I returned to my hostel cold and tired. Earlier in the day, a McGill University student had recommended a vintage nightclub. “Don’t worry,” she said reassuringly, “You won’t feel awkward going by yourself. I’m sure you’ll make plenty of friends.” That I needed reassurance I could make friends was enough to convince me I didn’t want to go. By 11 pm, I was packed and ready to catch my train for the next day.

The train ride back was markedly different from the train there. Two days earlier, the excitement of my solo adventure flooded my thoughts as I undocked at Montreal’s Central Station. Anything was possible.  I dared myself to make a new friend, meet a guy at a bar, or go crazy wild. None of that happened. Maybe that says I’m anti-social, a hermit incapable of connection. (Okay, calm down Lynne. You’re just introverted and shy.) But after 60 hours of little meaningful social contact, my feeling of loneliness had escalated to the point where I truly believed I had no friends in the world.

So, what can be gleaned from this adventure in isolation? That I’m an extremely melodramatic individual, prone to depression and marred by rejection? That solo trips yield delusions? Yes and yes. But more important than that, once I gained my senses back, I learned that we are not meant for isolation - -  at least not for more than 24 hours. It’s not healthy. Also, social media does not make you more social. Shocking, I know. However, it does supplement many social activities nicely which is why I would never completely eliminate it if you want to stay connected to a larger group. It’s a tool to document memories and keep track of interactions. (Case in point: while writing this post, I turned to my Instagram photos and Foursquare check-ins as a way of remembering the chronology of events and places I went to on my trip. In just two weeks, I had forgotten a lot.)

My eagerness to be alone has taught me several things. One is that we are social beings, even the most introverted of us. We need external stimulation to prevent us from going insane. Another is that independence, while efficient and empowering, does not make the best memories. Yet I had to experience a taste of it, in the form of loneliness, to know how to appreciate others.  For so long, I’ve selfishly believed my time alone was immensely more valuable than time spent with other people. I wanted efficiency in personal interaction and while listening to people talk, I wondered why they couldn’t get to the point. “What are you trying to tell me? Do we really have to stand here and make small talk?” I now see that people who are willing to allow me to enter their lives, be it through small talk or deeper exchange, are doing me a favor.

Of course it’s a matter of balance; it is never ideal to hear someone ramble on and on about nothing. And we all need our space and time. But when you can find that perfect volume where you can tune into other people’s stations without overpowering the own thoughts in your head – that’s a sweet spot.

To say that we each have our own story is only partially true.  We do have our own story, but we are not always the main characters. Pilots need passengers to take off. Otherwise it’s just a flight and not an adventure.

Note to friends: this saga reveals a slightly maniacal side of me. I am aware that I have many dear friends (including some of you readers) and appreciate your love and concern if you were worried . I am fine (usually) :)

Posted by  |  April 29, 2013 | Categories: life, mentors, personal, Social, Social Media, technology, Travel, well-being | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment »

editing, defined.

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I attended an editing workshop at The Poynter Institute this week. In some ways, I don’t really know why. I’ve never held an editing role in my life. I’m not particularly enthused by the thought of reading over other people’s work. And for all I know, editing is the red markup you get back when your writing is bad. Who would ever aspire to be that person, that word janitor?

Beyond reason, I went to the workshop anyway, and I’m glad I did. It certainly didn’t hurt that Poynter is conveniently located in St. Petersburg, Florida, home to soft white sand that sifts seamlessly through your toes and a sun that coalesces beautifully with your skin.  I figured that my indulgent beach lounging would be justified if I acquired some form of knowledge in addition to a bronze glow (which ended up being more lobster-red than anything).

The other attendees at the seminar were  -surprise!- actual editors, and way more accomplished than me. I was humbled to sit alongside some really impressive individuals. Shout-out to Lisa, a news editor who works for a news wire I can’t pronounce (the Swedish version of the AP) and who travelled all the way from Stockholm! The 15 of us learned tips on line editing, brainstorming story ideas, coaching reporters, and social media. But for me, the most important takeaway was quite basic: an understanding of what an editor actually does.

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Editors of all experience levels, w/ Poynter Faculty

Traditionally, the image of an editor conjures up images of a white male, legs perched on a desk, brooding over a newspaper mark-up or proceeding over a meeting. It’s a grand representation of man’s authority over what is “fit to print”. That image is partially true. But there is also a softer, less tactile element that involves the relationship between editor and writer. I learned that editing, at its core, is less about being a hardline news guru as it is helping to nurture and coach writers to construct stories in a way that enhances their value beyond the individual lens.

So, the most basic question an editor must ask is: “What to look for in a piece of writing?” Looking over someone else’s work is a huge responsibility. The first temptation is to rewrite from our own lens. All spelling, grammar, and syntax aside, I learned that there are really only 2 important things to look for: theme and clarity.

Theme  – A story is only good when you know what it’s about. At the end of a story, you should be able to easily identify the core message.  If you can’t, that’s a problem. Determine the focus of the story and be sure that every section directly adds to that theme. This eliminates redundancy and trims fat, builds muscle.

Clarity – This goes hand-in-hand with theme. If you know the theme, find a way of mapping it out – clearly. Kelley Benham, a writer and editor for the Tampa Bay Times (whose recently Pulitzer Prize-nominated piece you should read) recommended “running a chronology comb” through the writing. Making a timeline with a logical procession of events usually helps to construct stories with absolute simplicity and clarity.

I found these guidelines reassuring and helpful. Previously when given a piece to edit, I would strap on my writing helmet and enter battle. Never was the pen a mightier sword as it slashed through words and corrected spelling like a gallant warrior. (Allow me, itt was the closest I’d get to feeling like my life was an action movie. These days, it’s not so glorious when everything is done on a blinking screen; I type louder to make the process seem more dramatic.)

But in reality, making the paper bleed is not an editor’s job. It’s the reverse, actually; becoming a word janitor is what happens when you don’t let the writer do what he or she is supposed to do: write.

John Carroll, the former editor of the Los Angeles Times, advised editors to cultivate a lazy streak:

“What’s better than rewriting is to take an extra few minutes diagnosing the story’s one or two biggest problems (but not all of them) and return it to the reporter for adjustments. This is good for all concerned. You won’t get bogged down doing someone else’s jo b while oher stories pile up. And the reporter will be able to take pride in the story. The story’s minor problems tend to get straightened out in the rewrite process.

Good editors often have a lazy streak. Instead of impulsively jumping into the fray, put your feet up and figure out how to get somebody else to do the work. Things usually turn out better that way.”

Rather than rewrite, an editor’s job is to discuss the story and make it culturally relevant, together, with the writer. It is to make the story so deep, rich, and revealing of something deeply embedded within our human nature. It is to find a story that rises above the individual lens, that spreads its wings beyond the mere facts. That’s editing.

I knew I was attracted to it for a reason.

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*Many thanks to the staff at Poynter for a well-organized and insightful workshop. I highly recommend their training programs to those in the journalism profession looking to sharpen their skills. Special thanks to Tom Huang of the Dallas Morning News who led the seminar and encouraged us to find our “personal dimension” to this line of work. The story will continue to evolve, but I think, just maybe, I’ve found the beginning scraps.  

Posted by  |  April 26, 2013 | Categories: Education, Journalism, lynne guey, Networking, writing | Tags: , , , | Leave A Comment »

Confidence in the Face of Failure

Got really vulnerable, y’all.

Last week, I had the fortune of meeting Christina Vuleta, founder of 40:20 vision, a website that offers advice from 40something women who have been there, to 20something women (like me) who are trying to figure it out. Christina was a panelist at a 40:20 Highwater Women panel  where she, along with some other incredibly accomplished women, offered invaluable tidbits on how to navigate this thing called life. I feel extremely lucky to have made a connection with someone so willing to pass on her experiences and help the next generation weather through the rocky 20s.

I wrote a guest post for her site about a topic I’ve been thinking a lot about lately: failure. 

Read it, but if  you’re busy here’s the Cliff’s Notes version straight from the last two sentences:

Embrace failure as relentlessly as  you pursue success. One is not better than the other, as they both simply bring us closer to the goal.      

Elusively motivational?  That’s how I like it.

Also, I haven’t said this before but to all who actually read these meanderings, thank you. I don’t get to see your faces often but simply knowing that there are faces is encouraging. It’s what keeps me typing. :)

Posted by  |  April 17, 2013 | Categories: future, generation, inspiration, mentors, women, writing | Tags: , , , , , | Leave A Comment »

Why I’m Back on Facebook

“You have to get offline. I’ll say it again. You HAVE GOT TO GET OFFLINE. YOU HAVE TO GET F***ING OFF F***ING LINE.”  – advice from legendary E. Jean Carroll, of Ask E. Jean, America’s longest currently running advice column

Better advice could not be more emphatically expressed. I took it to heart for 4 months. 4 months of purposeful separation, living life offline, unplugged…or at least as unplugged as life can be when you have a smart phone and still tweet and email and you know, do almost everything except Facebook + Instagram. Still, give a girl some credit: pulling the plug on Facebook was a big deal, kind of like moving to a desert island. I even wrote a goodbye letter.  (melodramatic twentysomething)

I remained pretty social on the island. Before I knew it, 3 months had gone by. One night I thought about the social network and tried to log back in. There were several tell-tale signs I had been gone for a while; for one, I couldn’t remember my log-in. My web history was clogged with news articles instead of the usual Facebook photo albums and in fact I momentarily forgot who some people in those albums even were. Months before, merely typing www—>> triggered automatic completion of “site-thou-shall-not-be-named”.com, and now… LinkedIn has replaced it as the most frequently visited site. If ever there were a sign of professional maturity (or boringness)…

Upon sailing Home a few days ago, Facebook almost seemed foreign, like returning to college after being abroad for a couple months. Soon, though, the falsely jolly, slickly disingenuous first-world details that had ceased to exist during my time away came trickling back into consciousness. Bloop! There went the little red notification. And here we go again…

Ignorance is bliss, I had told myself. But what I’ve realized is that the problem was never really about Facebook or the technology or all the obnoxious statuses out there; the problem was me. I needed to clear out my own cache of judgement.

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I deactivated my Facebook and Instagram accounts on 12/12/12. Since it was supposedly the end of the world, I decided to enter the ‘new’ world with a clean slate. I wanted to return to the root of being social without the distraction of a buzzing phone, without feeling compelled to take pictures of my brunch, and without the aid of a red Facebook notification to alter my serotonin level. I entered detox mode.

My primary justification was personal. I thought that my personhood – the very root of my identity – had been reduced to a set of data points on Facebook. I was living my life out online. How could I allow a single website to simplify my life to a bunch of photos, text, and information? It was naval-gazing for sure, but I couldn’t shake it.  So, I left to return to my offline roots but not before posting a status on Facebook asking people to send me their email; I would write occasionally with life updates, philosophical meanderings, and other angsty Thought Catalog-like topics. Several people did reach out and I was happy to keep my social network limited to these newfound thought followers, family, and close friends. It was my way of keeping in touch.

Life offline was revolutionary & simple. It gave me greater appreciation for things beyond the digital realm such as parks, museums, and coffee shops with no wi-fi. I spent a month at home in Tennessee, a month in San Francisco, another month eating a bunch of really really good food for my job back in New York. Normally, I’d be sharing & posting like it was my job but I restrained. I just ate, just observed, just explored. The ‘justs’ were more than enough. No one was validating the awesomeness of my adventure, so I could focus on the actual act of exploring. It was great. There were moments when I wondered if I was missing out (and for sure, I later found out there was A LOT) but I was aware of the really important things.  In fact I remember secretly gloating that I knew about the new Pope before some of my Facebook-hounding friends did.  (Twitter – 1, Facebook – 0)

Ultimately, however, I discovered a glaringly simple truth through deeper offline conversations : we’re lonely. Some more than others, but at the end of the day, it’s a large reason why social networks like Facebook and Twitter have taken off. Introvert or extrovert, we’re all searching for some form of connection.

Yet connection is thrown around like free lunch these days. Mark Zuckerberg’s Facebook mission, “to make the world more open and connected” is noble. But just like lunch, real connection never comes free. You don’t amass friends and spit stuff into the never-ending stream of content and expect connection to magically appear. (You also don’t sell that information to marketers, but that’s another topic for another day.) Facebook is not the magic ingredient. If we truly want connection, we must first change ourselves.

When I logged back onto Facebook a few days ago, updating my profile with an affirming Facebook status “They always come back”, I found myself digging back into connections – weak, strong, and the many in-betweens. While catching up with the lives of those I had almost forgotten about, I was reminded of life’s continuous march. Over the course of our lives, things happen, people change. In this digital age, social platforms are there to document it all. While I traveled coast to coast, going from San Francisco to New York, life for others did not stop and wait for me to press ‘play’ to be reenacted. People continued to post, comment, like, and tag whether I was there to participate or not. I had missed a Canadian friend’s trip to New York with her band. I had missed lovely photos from an acquaintance’s wedding. I had no idea the company I worked for had uploaded and tagged an embarrassingly hilarious video of me. (Self-scrutiny commence.)

Anyway, I’ve come to the conclusion that my view of personhood must evolve like the times. I am nostalgic for a Web that no longer exists. I’d like to think of myself, as author Zadie Smith puts it, “a private person, a person who is a mystery, to the world and to herself.”  But I am naive. I’ve taken 4 months time (and an entire Facebook timeline of inner sciamachy) to set aside this identity crisis. I come back because I want to write. Truthfully. Part of that means knowing people. Social media is a way to be part of a conversation you’re creating together with fellow beings. For all its clutter, social media can be rich and multi-faceted. On other days, it can be also be self-glorifying, artificial, and so damn annoying that I wonder if I should just disconnect again.

But that’s life. Life is not always beautiful. Take it or leave it; I choose to take it. Not being on social media means I will simply know less about what is going on with other people.  That is not a bad thing. But even so, I firmly believe humans are not made to be fully removed from each other, whether that is physically or virtually. Do you want to participate and steer the conversation toward good? Yesterday’s Boston Marathon terror serves as an example. People gathered updates and news real-time to help those in need.  Coverage through social media was a mix of qualitative and informative, creating a complete (while heartbreaking) picture of the unfolding scene. The Internet, if we choose, really can be a useful tool for good.

For all its good, though, we must be reminded that the data points we generate can underrepresent reality. Living offline is messier and more complex. Walking away from social media, at times, is not necessarily practical, as we live in an age where many of our communities and lives are built on these platforms. So what I’m granting myself is an approach, a mindset: one of connection rather than comparison. It’s easy to look at the filtered photos and artuflly written statuses as gunk that clogs our news feed. But lighten up. On the days you peer into the screen of your laptop and simply can’t find any semblance of relation to your perfectly posed fellow human beings, just remember that what you see is a mere half-reality and carefully selected portion of life. Life isn’t simply the story you tell about yourself on the Internet. It’s merely one of many.

This is my relapse. I’m back to listen, contribute, and document the evolution of our virtual selves. This time, I realize I am not above it all. While I can’t promise zero judgment, I welcome your sharing. In a sense, I agree with Zuckerberg: our selves evolve and like it or not, it’s a story worthy capturing.

Posted by  |  April 16, 2013 | Categories: generation, Internet, lynne guey, Social Media, technology | Tags: , , , , , | Leave A Comment »

Monday Mission

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I live right above a Brooklyn Industries store.  The company motto, “live work create”, is emblazoned on the brick wall next to my building’s gate, so it stares at me each time I go in & out. I usually don’t return the glance but on occasion, I stare back. Or glare. Depending on my mood.

On the one hand, I think it’s a great reminder to live an inspired life. On the other hand, my schedule is often so stacked with more pressing commitments and responsibilities, such feel-good mantra rather irritates me. Who in their right mind has time to splatter around paint and compose pretty typography?  Artists with too much time on their hands!  Like Steve Jobs, Leonardo DaVinci, Thomas Edison, and other rather trivial figures. (Learning typography was exactly what Steve Jobs did and today, ladies and gentlemen, we have the Mac.)

Sure, I proceed, creation is great for the legends but we can’t all be legendary. We are too limited by time and other impending life demands to deal with such high-minded ideals. Perhaps. But deep down, I know cynicism stems from disappointment. Disappointment that, in a glaring way, I have not lived up to man’s highest potential for creation and that my existence thus far has been marked more by consumption than production.

Brooklyn Industries’ specific mission, as stated on its website:

is to live with passion,

is work well-done,

is a constant desire to create.

Being of clear left brain origin (yet always seeking right-brain ingenuity), I often wonder what opportunities, if any, there are for non-artists like me to live with passion and create amazing work.  My drawing skills have not evolved much since third grade.

Yesterday, a few women gathered at my place to brainstorm business ideas. It was about as far from an artist’s collective as you can imagine with a clearly laid-out agenda, bullet points, and talk of business models. But the wannabe artist in me saw artist potential (think barefooted free spirits with rolled-up ripped jeans and palettes in hand, of course.) Previously unknown ideas were brought  to consciousness, compiled, developed. And with that, something new was created. Created. Yes, analytical, Excel-loving folks can be artists too!

I’m not saying our ideas were brilliant masterpieces. But I’m reminded that creation is not simply pretty art you hang on the walls. If anything, creativity is more about the reinterpretation of thought than any act of making something “different”. It’s about making something unoriginal happen that wouldn’t have if one hadn’t taken initiative. The originality lies in the intention. A new friendship, revised process, or translation of overwrought thoughts – these are creations unveiled.

Knowing that yesterday’s group would not have gathered had certain motions not been set in place is enlivening. To see that creation unveiled is to feel something like life, birth, the wail of a baby – yeah, you can call it inspiration gone mad.

Go out and create something this week. It doesn’t have to be a painting, though if you can make pretty stuff take a picture and send it to me. Our world can seem, at times, to severely lack creation in a culture of mass consumption. But its not hard to plant the seeds for something new. Take time for a conversation if you like people. Build an internal process if you dig logistics. You’ll find that it’s incredibly easy to create and make something new based on your inherent strengths. Before you know it, you’ll be a living embodiment of what you make.

Experiencing inspiration is like breathing a full gulp of air after years of just trying to catch your breath. After that, it’s hard to want anything else.

Posted by  |  April 7, 2013 | Categories: inspiration, life | Tags: , , , , , | Leave A Comment »

What Trader Joe’s Can Teach Us

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Last Saturday, I was feeling a little down and out so I went for a walk through the park. Consumer park, I should say. My jaunt took me to the epicurean part of Manhattan’s Chelsea neighborhood, better known as Trader Joe’s, where bohemians bustle in and out. Embraced by a horde of herbivores and gourmands alike, I barely had a moment to pause before gluttony jostled me to the side. I wondered why people would ever pay to go to the circus when they could observe such hysteria for free.

Meandering through the aisles, I gawked at 99-cent Israeli couscous, 100-calorie Belgian dark chocolate bars, and compact jars of artisanal jam. With no intention of buying anything (I had just suffered a particularly stressful trip to Chinatown for groceries that morning), I left with a recycled paper bag worth just over $30. And like that, I turned into one of the animals! Going mad, I went online and found the Trader Joes Fan Club ; surely, 530k+ fans can’t all be crazy?

My unscientific theory on why Trader Joe’s is so successful is that they understand humans really well. The secret, I believe, lies in 3 simple things:

1. Categories

2. Portioning

3. Presentation

We love categories.

Things are easier to understand when they’re separated into chunks (similar to digestion). Trader Joe’s neatly stacks spices with spices, cereals with cereals, jams with jams etc. Other grocery stores do the same but it’s kind of messy. I’m certain Trader Joe’s invests in employees with good handwriting because the labels I’ve seen are works of art! (at least the ones in Manhattan)

In elementary school I couldn’t wait to come home after the first day to prepare my binders for the year. Labeling each Lisa Frank binder with its subject name, inserting dividers, then filing papers into their subsequent section was deeply satisfying. I think the excitement stemmed from the belief that everything had found its home. In due time, papers were thrown amuck but at least for the time being, it put me at ease.

Categories give us a sense of order. They make things easy. In life, nothing is ever easily pigeon-holed but a beautifully organized categorization system at a grocery store gives us all the peace of mind we need.

Don’t give ‘em everything.

The invention of 100-calorie Weight Watcher snack packs (whoops they’re supposed to be meals?) was brilliant because it told us how much to eat.  It alleviated the resource-heavy decision-making process that kicks in when we evaluate options. Deciding when to stop when your pleasure system says NO requires a huge amount of energy. So, not having to dip into that pool reserves our precious energy for more important decisions.

Similarly, Trader Joe’s understands that too many options can lead to shopping paralysis. Studies have found that buyers enjoy purchases more if they know the pool of options is not quite large. When given unlimited options, customers spend more time deciding what to buy rather than actually buying. On average, Trader Joe’s sells far fewer varieties of each item than a traditional grocery store. Less work AND more money for them!

Presentation

Depth does not appeal unless the surface frames it so. Plain and simple, we’re superficial. Trader Joe’s is not a food boutique but it’s a lot more inviting than a fly-infested fishy-smelling Chinatown market.

Chinatown prices are usually unbeatable but when your fellow customers are pushing you, produce is not neatly separated, and the floor always seems wet & slippery with who-knows-what…shopping is not a pleasurable experience. Contrast that with bright Hawaiian shirts, sparkling floors, and smiling employees – who cares if it’s all artificiality and chemicals – I’m happy and that’s all I care about.

I didn’t expect a UX lesson from an afternoon stroll in Trader Joe’s. But with 500k + fans and $8 billion in annual revenue, they must be doing something right! Companies like Trader Joe’s are setting standards for better user-centric design. As businesses like Fresh Direct and online shopping reduce the need to visit a brick-and-mortar, UX concepts like these will keep physical stores alive.  Check out this article on how Kate Spade is using technology to improve the  in-store experience for retail.

Takeaway
1. Categorize.
2. One thing at a time. 
3. Frame it well.
Thanks, Trader Joe’s! (On a separate note, if you’re a fan of Nutella, I highly recommend Trader Joe’s Cocoa Almond Spread, my latest obsession. I dip it in everything. You can find a thorough evaluation, as it compares to Nutella, from one of many Trader Joe-inspired blogs: What’s Good at Trader Joe’s.)

Posted by  |  April 4, 2013 | Categories: Social Media | Tags: , , , , | Leave A Comment »

Fear

Eleanor Roosevelt once advised:

“Do one thing every day that scares you.”

My natural instinct, like any scaredy-cat, is to back off and make excuses.

But something tells me that Eleanor is not telling us to jump off a cliff. Those daredevil feats are nothing compared to the fears we’re most afraid to tackle, those that are deeply embedded within the daily decisions we make.

For instance, I was walking down 14th Street and noticed a small sign with pretty typeface, labeled “paragraph”. The design caused me to peer further and read the fine print: “writer’s workspace”

The timing was uncanny. I had just been wondering if there were places to connect in the city with other writers. Perhaps I should take a peek in. I shuffled closer and saw that the door was locked with a buzzer. Alas, a barrier of entry. Should I try buzzing anyway? Nah, I thought. I’m not even a real writer. I begin to walk away, making a note to google ‘paragraph’ later, knowing full well that I would forget and it would never happen.

2.5 shuffles after, I stopped as Eleanor’s wisdom stirred inside me. “What are you scared of, Lynne?” I jumped to defend. It’s not that I’m scared, I just don’t think the place will be open so it doesn’t make sense for me to buzz only to be turned away and that would be a waste of time and supremely embarrassing because…I’m scared.

Fear is not just “running from grizzly bear” fear. Fear, more often than not, occurs in the mundane. There I was in the middle of a bustling street, having nary a conversation with anyone, yet battling the biggest of wars inside myself. One second walking back to the door, another second turning around to escape confrontation with something I was genuinely curious about! Zoom out and it seemed silly, almost comical. Anyone watching me would think I was mad. Finally, fed up with myself and this silly fear of a buzzer, I pushed the button.

A lady’s voice picked up.

“Hello?”

“Um, hi, this is….Lynne.”

‘Who?”

“Um, Lynne – um, I just stumbled upon your place and wanted to see like, if I could take a look?”

pause

pause

I had ruined it. Clearly, she knew I was an outsider and had no idea what I was talking about.

pause

And then, I was buzzed in.

I climbed up the stairs, a most interesting set, passing by a a dance studio and a bartending school on my way up. Paragraph’s door sat at the top, and it swung open to the sight of an Asian woman beckoning me in. She greeted me warmly, saying her name was Amy. (For a second, I thought she was Amy Tan, then realized it was highly unlikely Amy Tan would be at a writer’s club welcoming me.)

Amy gave me a tour of the facility, the first writing space I’ve seen. There is a ‘silent room’ where absolutely no talking is allowed. It gives writers the focus they need to bang out words. Outside of the silent room, there is a small kitchen where writers converse and eat. The facility includes free wifi, copy machines, all your basic office stuff.

I didn’t stay for long; Amy tried to sell me a membership which I couldn’t afford. Still, I’m glad I went. What I gained from conquering my stupid fear of a buzzer was:

- a cool view of a writer’s working space,

- a realization that fear pervades even the most common of situations,

- a story for this blog post!

Fear infiltrates the tiniest aspects of our lives. If I received a penny for each time I passed over something because “I didn’t have time” or “I knew it was going to end badly”…well, we won’t get into it. Often fear is bundled so tightly in a web of excuses that we don’t even know it’s fear, mistaking it instead for pragmatism or level-headed reason. As the weekend approaches, lean into the fears, whether it be talking to that “unattainable” guy, or trying something you know you’ll be bad at. When we can overcome ourselves, we’ll surely be able to take on any grizzly fear.

Posted by  |  March 29, 2013 | Categories: inspiration, life | Tags: , | 1 Comment »

Girls Talk Shop

The more often you create and share ideas, the better you get at it.

My friend Alex and I have decided to gather a few women every other week to brainstorm business plans, passion projects, and entrepreneurial ventures together. Our 20s are a critical period for growth and at a time when commitment to ideas is especially hard to find, we believe a group like this is necessary.

The goal is to compile ideas and follow through with ones that resonate. Some will be interesting, most will be lousy, one or two may even work. The point is to simply hold ourselves accountable to doing work that really matters. Ultimately, we want to find an idea that sticks and matches our unique strengths with the needs of the world.

What this group is not: a think tank or discussion group. Ideas are a dime in a dozen; money lies in execution. We’ll craft plans to make ideas happen. Some will fail but hey, failing isn’t as bad when there’s a group of other smart, motivated girls experiencing it with you.

If your current routine isn’t cutting it, join us as we experiment with projects that lead to greater fulfillment, if for any reason because doing stuff on your own is hard. We’re looking for a group of 4-6 New York women in their 20s, curious with a desire to learn and do something more. Any industry, talent, or niche is welcome. Leave a comment or email lynne.guey@gmail.com for details. We’ll likely be meeting on Sunday afternoon, so be willing to sacrifice Sunday brunch for this. In exchange, a supply of lady refreshments ie. wine & cheese, will be on hand.

If you’re not in New York, sorry- we’re keeping things local for now. But stay tuned!

Posted by  |  March 27, 2013 | Categories: Community, technology, women | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Everything will not be okay.

My previous post on failure was not the most sanguine, so I’ll flip the page over for something more motivational today.

Everything will not be okay.

But you’ll be alright.

If you have an important decision to make, remember that.

I recently decided that I want to write and edit for a digital publication, maybe even create my own. Behind the ambitious wordage, I already know there’s a good chance my actions will fail, I won’t make enough money, my writing will be deemed mediocre, and that even after persisting, I’ll face more rejection with the possibility of having to return home with fingers over my forehead in that dreadful L shape. Everything won’t end up okay. Should I go forward?

Yes or no is not really the answer I’m looking for. What we really want when we ask that question is reassurance. Reassurance that something will work out, that everything will be okay. However, reassurance is fleeting. Anything that really matters won’t come easy. God tests to see how much you want something. He sweeps a strong current over the linear road. Along the topsy turvy path, there are chances to turn back. Since everything is not okay, you’re tempted.

But here comes the motivational addendum, the one that can save the day. Amid the mayhem, you are alright. If your core self comes from a solid foundation, the wind can be blowing the hair off your head; though everything is not okay, you are just fine.

My motivation for this week is to find the bravery to shun faux reassurance. The changes we make to seek our dreams may not yield the most ideal outcomes. But it’s not reassurance that we should be seeking anyway; it’s courage.

Free yourself from the need for perfect acceptance, and it will be a lot easier to make a decision and launch work that matters.

Thanks to Seth Godin’s tell-it-like-it-is blog for inspiring this post. Thanks also to my good friend Hanh, whose boldness in pursuing her fashion blog dream, pushed me to critically think about my own life goals.

Posted by  |  March 25, 2013 | Categories: future, inspiration, life | Tags: , | Leave A Comment »

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