Back from cyber break.

I should have hung an “out to lunch” post on the blog before closing my Mac down before Easter – that would have let you know not to expect to see me for a while. But in the run up to my self-imposed cut-off time, the words didn’t get written. Instead I made a deliberate choice to give energy to my clients, and to finish an eBook I’ve been writing. And I honoured my commitment to finishing when I said I would.

The perfectionist in me bristled with that. I don’t like to leave things unfinished.

And I’ve been percolating some thoughts on how to make work fit life or life fit work when you live on social media – or at least do some of your marketing there.

Purpose

I’ve asked myself recently why I’m on social media; why I use it. My immediate answers are about building engagement around my two blogs (this and Christine Livingston). Why am I interested to build engagement? Well, as much as I love it for its own sake, I also have an agenda of increasing my traffic in order to be able to sell digital products.

Presence

Building traffic demands that you be there, stirring the pot from time to time with fresh content and interaction.

But are these goals in conflict with having a life, or indeed, paradoxically, of building the very kind of social media presence I want in the long term?

What if I – or you for that matter – choose that our presence is valuable in other, non-social media places? Or even that time normally spent, for example, hanging out on Twitter, is better invested in developing those digital products that I ultimately want to sell?

No right or wrong

I suspect that there’s no right or wrong to any of this and that what works for me may not work for you or for the next person. Catching up on stuff I missed when I was off, I came across Michael Martine’s post on the need to be consistent as a blogger, which I totally get. But what if consistent is something you can’t be? Or, rather, if consistent is something that emerges?

Priority

There’s something in the mix too for me about the grand hierarchy of what’s important in life, and making my commitments accordingly. I’m crystal clear that the top priority in my life is my partner and my relationship with him. So when, at times like the holiday I’ve just had, it’s something we’ve arranged together, I choose to turn up for it.

I remember some years ago a colleague telling me that, one of the reasons she was quitting her very senior HR job to spend time with her children, was for her sake as much as theirs. That stayed with me; it made me understand that time with other people was not just to appease them in some way, it was to nourish me too.

And that’s important. Especially as relationship is a core principal of my work. If I cannot be in good relationship with myself and the key people in my life, I’m pretty useless to my clients and readers.

But what do you think? How do you make work fit life when you spend a lot of your time on social media? Can you? If so, how do you make it work for you? What are the costs and benefits? Share your thoughts in the comments.

PS The new eBook is for newsletter subscribers only. If you want a copy, sign up here. It’ll be with you in the next week!

photo credit: gogoloopie

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What is it about Christmas that can leave us all feeling so wrung out? The stress of making sure we have presents for everyone; that no-one is forgotten from our card list; that we’ve got all the ingredients in the fridge and cupboard to delight our houseful of guests; that we’ve enough money in our bank accounts, or credit cards to pay for it all?

That we’ll get to travel in the worst of snowy conditions?

So much for peace on earth.

Instead of obsessing about creating your own myth of the perfect Christmas – which, let’s face it, will only leave you disappointed – why not be present to the moment, and enjoy the Christmas you’re having instead?

One of the best ways to snap out of the frenzy is to stop everything you’re doing for a moment and to take stock of all that you’re grateful for.

This year I’m grateful for lots

In the face of a stuttering economy, I have had a steady supply of work, and some awesome clients. I can’t name you, but you know who you are. I love that when you work with me, you turn up to the work and that between us magical stuff happens. For the pleasure of being with you and watching you grow I am grateful.

For the energy I’ve had to keep developing this blog and for the readers who’ve come to it time and time again, I am grateful. Your presence has helped it grow. Your on- and off-line input and feedback has helped shape it.

For my fellow bloggers whose friendship and support I’ve valued for itself, and in the marketing and techie aspects of the site, I am grateful.

2010 has been a good year.

Gratitude rocks

Gratitude brings us back to ourselves; to what’s important. In being grateful our focus shifts from what we don’t have, or what’s not right, to what we do have and what is just fine. Gratitude energizes us, it allows us to sparkle and to zing. It’s part of the real magic of Christmas.

So, if you’re feeling stressed out over this festive time, remember to pay attention to what’s good in your life and give thanks for it. Engage gratitude to make your Christmas rock.

On that note, I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas. The site’s taking a break over the holidays, but will be back early New Year.

Photo credit: Steven Durbin Photography

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What is it about Christmas that encourages us to go wild at office parties and end up making complete idiots of ourselves?

Year-end pressure boiling over?

The company’s party budget crying out to be indulged to the max?

I’m sure I don’t know. But there’s something about this time of year that allows us to drop barriers we’d otherwise keep intact. And I often get one or two contrite souls coming to me afterwards, regretful for something they got up to while under the influence. And wondering what they need to do to redeem themselves.

You’ve been there, right? Something crazy and hysterical at the time loses its sparkle in the cold light of the following morning.

Being overheard by the MD making a scathing joke about his comb-over. Ahead of getting his approval for some major spend you were hoping for.

Feeling like Robbie Williams as you do that karaoke song, but looking like an X Factor reject when you see it played back on video by your PA on YouTube the next day.

Missing a massive client meeting because of alcohol-induced over-sleeping.

Shagging Bob in finance who you’ve lusted after all year, only to find it was a complete disappointment.

Now, you might be expecting me to give you some wise words about how to avoid these things.

I’m not going to.

Been there. Done that. So I’m not about to prevent others having the same kind of blast.

Besides the answer to the problem doesn’t lie in avoidance.  My take is that, if you’re going to go wild, you should go wild. But just know that it has consequences.

On the upside too, as much as boundaries are down this time of year, acceptance and forgiveness are up. So, if you do something embarrassing, laugh it off while the spirit of Christmas is still erring in your favor and get over yourself. You’ve got a good 12 months to regain face before your next moment of office party madness.

photo credit: Commonorgarden

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Totally weird I was talking about being in the moment on Wednesday. Turns out that’s what I’m going to be doing a lot of over the next few days.

See, I had been planning on travelling north to Edinburgh for a short holiday. But snow has stopped that particular kind of play. Very sad, as I’d been looking forward to seeing my family, including my favourite nephew. Not to mention hanging out at the mulled wine stalls in the Christmas Market on Princes Street.

Edinburgh Sparkles, say the ads. Maybe. And only if you can get there.

I decided I was going to take the time off anyway. I’ve planned work and clients around it, and I need a break, so why not? Now my diary is a blank canvas. (Although, as I write this, my OH, also known as The Minister Of Fun, and The Travel Monitor, is planning an itinerary of upbeat things to do, weather permitting, in Buckinghamshire.)

No doubt I’ll be back next week with some insights, or lessons learned. Or maybe just a hangover. In any case, I wanted you to know that the blog isn’t going to be languishing in my absence.

Meet my two fabulous site-sitters: Ben Lumley and El Edwards.

Ben

Ben is a personal achievement coach and general self-development geek. He uses everyday language, sprinkled with lots of passion, to inspire us to be the best of ourselves.

El

El is a story teller and muse. She’s on a mission to get us smiling more and to spread more happiness around. She kind of does what the positive psychologists talk about. Except she does it everyday and in the raw.

They’re two cool folks. Be sure to give them a very warm welcome.

Photo credit: Steven Durbin Photography

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I had an unexpected attack of writer’s block today. Caught me quite unaware. I sat and tried to magic up a headline and squeeze a few words out anyway, but I was completely stuck. There was a moment of thinking that I was letting myself and my regular Friday readers down by not posting at midday UK time, but I had to let my concern go. Despite myself, I just wasn’t going to be able to do it.

Off I went and made lunch in the hope that some sustenance would re-energise me. Nothing.

Finally, I sent a tweet out:

All of a sudden I got a little flurry of tweets back. DMs with some fun and dynamic headline suggestions. A useful book to read. Some tips to help. And some @messages sharing the fun and adding some different ideas to the mix. Here’s just a few:

Suddenly I was transported to another place. Somewhere that was inviting and warm, where I was no longer stuck by myself trying to make words flow. In fact, I wasn’t even worrying about it, because I was too busy enjoying hanging out.

I didn’t write the post I imagined I would, but I sure as hell had fun putting this together.

So, guys, I wanted instead to share a little love by just capturing the story.

I’ll write again Monday, or whenever the muse gets her bum off the beach. She’s pretty happy there at the moment so it’d be a shame to disturb her.

In the meantime, have a wonderful weekend!

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I was chatting with Joshua Black via his guest post at Men With Pens about my propensity for eavesdropping in coffee shops. But the following story, if you’ll excuse the pun, takes the biscuit.

One day during the summer when my brother and nephew were staying with me, Bobby wanted a long lie. Not that he told us, you understand. Just that, when he hadn’t appeared downstairs by nine, James and I figured that’s probably what was going on.

So we left him a note and skipped off to Costa for breakfast.

We’d polished off our toast and were playing Tic Tac Toe on my iPhone when they walked in.

Mum, Dad and two kids. I imagine they were on holiday, but not away. Like us, they’d come to Costa as a treat. Something they wouldn’t normally do, or at least not collectively in term time or during the regular nine-to-five.

I probably wouldn’t have paid much more attention, except that, as soon as he walked in, Dad insisted on talking particularly loudly, and marching up and down the length of the counter, bossing his flock into submission about what food and drinks they would or wouldn’t have. I felt a little sorry for my barista friend as she struggled to take and deliver their continuously changing order.

Finally, they settled down on a couple of sofas and began to tuck in. James and I got back into our game. He’d clearly been practising since I’d seen him last, and was beating me hollow. Still, I had just nicked a point off him, when Dad’s BlackBerry, that had been strategically placed alongside his extra large, extra shot coffee, began ringing.

“Ignore it,” said his wife.

“It might be the office,” he said, and answered.

Clearly it was the office, as off he went at length, booming to someone about sales numbers and client meetings and how things needed to be positioned to be credible. He got so absorbed that, at one point, he got up off his seat and began pacing around. I imagined he thought he was in some corner office somewhere; he seemed completely oblivious to the audience he was creating in the coffee shop. Or maybe not.

James met my glance and laughed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling in the way that I know means he disapproves of something on the one hand; finds it funny on the other.

The call ended and I was aware of some arguing and shushing going on. Then they all seemed to settle down again. But a while later I tuned into some more drama.

I heard the words, “I’d better phone my dad,” as the BlackBerry went once more to the ear and Mum again protested.

There was some small talk as someone – evidently his father – answered and got into the conversation. But it was the next bit that really grabbed me.

“The reason I’m calling, dad,” he said, “is to say that we’re not going to make it to your 85th birthday party in October. I’m sorry, but I’ve just found out that an important client is flying in from the States and we’ll have to entertain them that weekend.”

Some more conversation and then:

“Yeah, I’m really sorry. But there was nothing I could do.”

I was gobsmacked. Whatever the old boy had done to deserve being abandoned in such a monumental way, I couldn’t help but feel there was something a little wrong in his son’s decision to broadcast it to a full coffee shop on a grey Wednesday morning in August.

Also, that because Dad’s real attention had been on his phone, the family had been robbed of its breakfast.

The moral of the story?

Well, I know that business can be fast paced and demanding, and that we live in a virtual world where we can connect with other people 24/7. And, that much of this is both profitable and fun.

But there’s something here for me about presence; being present to what’s going on for you in the moment and attending to it.

To my mind, at a family breakfast, it’s the family that’s present. And it’s not just that they need you to be there for them; it’s that you yourself need their engagement to feed and nourish your own soul. If that feels like hard work, ask yourself what you’re escaping.

Who knows whether, in this story, the old man was a complete terror that Dad was only too happy to avoid. But even if he was, putting a business engagement ahead of a landmark event is, well, sad.

For all his bravado, how little must this guy have thought of himself to feel that this was okay?

Spiritual teachings encourage us to live in the now; to pay attention to what we’re doing in the current moment. It sounds airy fairy, but it can be pretty rewarding.

So, when you work, work.

When you eat, eat.

And when you hang out with your family, hang out with your family.

And, if you can’t, could you please keep quiet so that the rest of us can at least try!

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As you read this, I may well be squelching my way elegantly through a soggy field.

Yes, it’s the English Bank Holiday weekend, where we dream of balmy evenings and relaxed barbecues, and normally end up with torrential rain, family arguments, and re-runs of Pirates Of The Caribbean.

As I write and schedule this a few days in advance, and as much as I love Johnny Depp, I fear the latter.

Which is a little worrying, as I’m supposed to be going to the village fête. First year in the country and all that, so should show willing.

But I don’t own wellingtons or Barbour jackets or any of that country living uniform. You can take the girl out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the girl.

A Twitter friend suggested I invest in a pair of Jimmy Choo hunters. I saw a pair for £285 on eBay. As much as I love the brand, if I was spending that kind of money on footwear I’d prefer to see heels.

So, I’ll leave you with my style dilemma. But, if you’re reading from the UK, hope you’re having a good break.

And, if you’re tuning in from elsewhere expecting to see some serious career coaching advice today, this is just a fun way of telling you that I’m having a day off!
photo credit: Zabowski

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I was already mulling over the idea of treating you to a more personal post for the August Bank Holiday weekend. But it was my friend Eleanor who gave me the call to action. Writing about how to earn a crust doing what you love, and picking up on a frivolous comment I’d left about my weekend chocolate cake hobby, she wrote:

That stuff that you love doing? The stuff that makes you smile? Can you do more of it and still get paid? This might seem like a really stupid question, especially if the thing you love doing is something like Christine’s eating chocolate cake. How can Christine get paid for eating cake?

My first reaction to El’s challenge was to say, “don’t be ridiculous, eating chocolate cake is my Saturday treat, and what has it got to do with making money?”

But, since I like both chocolate cake and making money, and I’m always up for learning things about myself, even in completely wacky ways, I thought I’d stick with the question and see where it took me.

I don’t actually need much of an excuse to spend time in my local coffee shop but I thought a chocolate cake fieldtrip was called for, so off I headed this morning in search of whatever magic I could find.

Sure enough it came in the form of childhood memories.

It’s probably no surprise to know I loved chocolate anything as a child. My mum was a terrific baker and I ate pretty much everything she produced. Often before it actually made it to the oven.

These were terrific days. When I wasn’t eating, and sometimes even when I was, I was often holed up behind the sofa with pens, papers, crayons, paints, gripped by my creative project of the moment. See, I had the biggest fun as a kid writing stories, and doing all the illustrations for them. Sometimes the stories were serious; sometimes they were satirical and witty. Whatever, I just loved putting stuff together that people would both read and be affected by.

I should have been a writer. That was after all my dream. The child in me had visions of living in a beautiful old cottage, with my dream husband, and a brood of cute kids. When I wasn’t keeping house and feeding my family chocolate cake, I’d be producing block buster books. Stuff that seemed light and frothy on the surface, but captured people’s hearts and so made a difference to their lives.

My father’s death more than took the edge off of things.

But the killer blow was delivered by my guidance teacher who simply sneered as she met with me and my mother to decide what subjects I do for exams.

“Nobody makes money from anything arty in Glasgow, Christine” she said. “You need to focus your efforts on academic subjects and think about a commercial career instead.”

With my dad gone, and us living off my mum’s widow’s pension, what I heard that night, whether it was implied or not, was that I couldn’t do things I loved and make money from them. That I needed to stop thinking like a child and grow up.

I’d always thought that the creative kid had died at that point. But looking back I see that’s not true. What happened was she just got clever and did what she had to do to survive. She took her story in a different direction, and created a new leading role for herself: the business woman. And she played it impeccably. It was what got her through school subjects in which she had no interest; pushed her to do things that felt incongruous; and propelled her to levels she would not otherwise have chosen.

Neither of my parents were around to see me become an HR Director, or to launch my own business. If they had, they’d have been beyond proud. Such achievement was beyond their wildest dreams. So, the career girl certainly did good.

And, make no mistake: it was a part in which I came to feel very at home. It gave me lots of fun challenges, allowed me to meet lots of wonderful people, and enabled me to do lots of international traveling.

But it wasn’t sustainable in the long term.

Curiously when the persona began to crack, and I needed to find out who I was beyond it, how I was going to live and work without it, I intuitively turned to writing as a form of therapy. It allowed me to express myself in ways I may otherwise have not. It was through writing that I could articulate my passion for coaching and counseling, the things I’ve focused on in the last years, that I completely adore and that pay my way in life. But having retrieved the artist in me, I’m not letting her go.

My best writing has always been done in coffee shops, and often with some form of cake or other. Perhaps it’s just the caffeine and sugar buzz. Perhaps too there’s something of the warmth and busyness I find there that invokes happy memories of my family living room and stimulates my creativity.

And, sure, I’m not making money from eating chocolate cake.

But, I am marketing my business almost exclusively through my writing now.

Here’s the big, circle-completing part of the picture, and I only just saw it this way myself. So much of the work I do with clients is about story. When they come to me, although they never use this language, it’s because something of their story doesn’t fit, or is difficult to deal with. They’ve lost their way in the plot. An old script needs to change.  A new storyboard needs creating. Partnering with others as they share their own cliff-hangers, romances and heartaches is privileged creative work indeed. Can you imagine what it feels like to work with someone who becomes truly gripped by your story; who can hold all the sub plots together; who can help you emerge from your own self-created mask and carry your true self forward in life?

Now that I’ve had this massive insight about story, will I do more with it? Will I write more? Will I start producing block busters?

You’ll just have to wait for the next chapter! But meantime I’d love to know in what direction you’d take this story next.

Related posts:

1. How To Use Child Magic To Rock Your Fledgling Business
2. Writing Your Own Story Beyond The Corporation
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photo credit: DaveBleasdale

According to a recent survey, 40% of professionals are considering going in search of a new job when they get back from their summer vacation. They’re battle weary after months of slogging it out in positions where their promotion prospects are disappearing, their bosses aren’t living espoused company values, and their bonuses are being cut.

It’s not surprising news. I’m hearing all the time from clients and friends just how much they want to quit. I’ve written elsewhere about being careful about not rushing to escape.

But how do you know when it really is time to go? Here are 7 signs that indicate the end is, indeed, in sight.

• You dislike what you’re doing. You’ve got to the point where you’re more than just bored, or not enjoying what you do. It’s becoming an active hatred. You can feel it sitting on you like a lead weight on your heart. It’s affecting your whole outlook on life.
• You feel no connection with your boss or colleagues. If you ever trusted your boss, that’s gone never to return. And, there’s no-one at work you can really call your friend.
• You’d really rather stay in bed. You’re struggling to get up in the morning, and it’s an effort to get yourself together for your day.
• You can never get on top of your workload. No matter how hard you try, you never feel that you’re getting on top of things. You might just about get there when the goal posts change again and you’re back to square one.
• You’re constantly ill. Despite whatever you do to de-stress, you’ve always got some kind of minor health problem going on. Whether it’s a cold, flu, whatever, you also notice these things becoming more difficult to shrug off and recover from.
• You’re living for weekends and holidays. The benefits of them, however, last only a few days before you feel that you’ve never been away.
• You’ve tried your damnedest to make things better. You’re a pro. You’ve read all the advice in this and other blogs about how to hack your career and you’ve applied it all religiously. Without success. You’re done with trying.

Sometimes the best thing to do is walk away. Some companies are just not for you. Don’t waste your energy and make yourself chronically ill trying to force fit yourself to a scenario that was never for you.

Sure, there are pragmatic considerations around how you get yourself out, what you subsequently do, and how you finance yourself in the process. It may take you time, but if it’s right to go, do yourself a favor and make that a firm decision. That’s step one. The rest will follow. And you’ll wonder why you slogged it out for so long!

If you’re a professional looking to have a much more fulfilling relationship with your work, sign up for our RSS updates and never miss an article again.

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My most favourite nephew in the world is staying with me this week from Glasgow. He also happens to be my only nephew in the world, but that makes him more, not less special. Suffice to say, we’ve been having a lot of fun.

As I wrote elsewhere, James has the smartest way of looking at the world of anybody I know. I’ve been paying attention to the things that define him in the hope I can learn a thing or two.

Excitement

The term “zest for life” sounds like a cliché around this wee guy. He whoops and whirls and has this take-your-breath-away enthusiasm for things that’s just so compelling. We’ll be chilling in the garden, or walking along our little countryside pathways, when he’ll spot something. A kite flying directly overhead. A rabbit darting into a hedge. The wild ponies on the hill. His entire being lights up as he sees it and stops in his tracks mesmerised.

His sense of wonder in things is so refreshing.

And it makes me consider how much we take for granted in our adult world. How retrieving a sense of awe would feed the child in us.

Fun

My living room currently resembles an art studio. I’ve got quirky hand drawn posters of my village in one corner and a cast of toys lined up in another. My iPhone, Mac and music library have been commandeered for video making purposes. Not kidding, but this child is teaching me how to use iMovie

He squeals out loud when he finds something funny. There’s no self-judgement or monitoring.

And he causes me to think about how much – or, indeed, how little – we allow ourselves to unreservedly indulge our playfulness. How we sometimes just need to relax and allow a belly-laugh to knock something crazy into shape.

Spontaneity

Can’t do something we imagined we might? No problem for James, there’s always some other exciting possibility of where to direct his attention. Can’t do that walking route you’d mapped out because it’s raining? Let’s make another video, or even go into town and watch Toy Story 3.

“Holidays are for chilling,” he told me the other day as I was obviously getting a little too structured in my planning of things to do. So I backed off and let him chill.

His approach made me reflect on how often, when things don’t work out as we imagined, we get caught up in our disappointment, instead of putting our attention where things can work out for us.

“Are you having fun?” I asked him today.

“Yes,” he said.

“More so than when you’re at school?” I asked. Perhaps I was looking for admiration. Perhaps putting onto him my expectations that school would be boring, holidays not. Whatever, his reply surprised me.

“No,” he said. Huh.

“So, you like school and holidays equally?” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“You’re pretty happy with life in general, whatever you’re doing?” I said.

“Uh-huh.”

“What is it about life that you so enjoy, then?” I said.

He gave this question some serious thought. A flash of inspiration suddenly caught his face.

“Basically, I enjoy anything you can get yourself stuck into,” he said, smiling widely.

Flippin’ ten year old wisdom. You’ve got to love it!

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