As much as it kills me to admit it, sometimes the best salesmanship doesn’t involve any words at all. This ad just about kills me, it’s so perfect.

I’m a bad writer.

I don’t mean that I write badly. You can disagree, of course, but I don’t have any real douts about my writing ability. My ability to string words into sentences, sentences into paragraphs, is pretty reliable. I have weaknesses, but even in unfamiliar writing territory, I always believe that I can fight my way through and find the words I need.

No, I’m a bad writer because there are times when I’d rather let someone else do it.

It’s not that I want other writers to do my work for me. It’s that sometimes I get so sucked in by reading other people’s work in a book, or watching it performed that, frankly, I can’t pull myself out of their stories to write my own. And, this last week, with some of my favorite TV shows having their season finales–not to mention a new episode of my favorite show, NBC’s Chuck–I’ve gotten sucked into watching television while goofing off on Twitter rather than focusing on assembling paragraphs for your entertainment and edification.

But, by the end of the night, I’m regretting the loss of precious time and scolding myself like a dog caught with a stolen slipper. “Bad writer! Bad, bad writer! Look at all the time you wasted!”

Does this make me a bad writer? Or just a lazy one?

This is the question. Many of us started writing in the first place because we enjoyed reading so much and wanted to tell our own stories. Or we were so good at being persuasive we naturally segued into putting it on paper (or on computer screens). Or writing was a way to make a buck, and reading just became part of the preparation necessary to write a good article.

There are lots of reasons to spend some time with other people’s writing.

Education: You have to know the rules, and the fastest, most painless way to learn them is to see them in action. If you read advertently, you can not only pick up the rules of grammar, but also how a sentence should flow, when to use adjectives, which verbs are active and which are passive, how to end a chapter or a sales letter … you get the idea. Watching a master at work is almost as good as working yourself. When you pay attention, you can pick up all sorts of tips–even if what you’re watching is a light-hearted, spy-story television episode.

Inspiration: Reading good quality writing can only help improve yours, by making you aware of what is possible, so that you want to achieve that level too. When you surround yourself with things to aspire to, you naturally gravitate to that level. If you start eating at five-star restaurants, you’re going to be unsatisfied by throwing a piece of pizza in your microwave for dinner. If you see enough stunning, perfect photographs, you’re not going to be happy with your careless snapshots. If your neighbors all have perfect, beautiful yards, you’re going to want to do a little more than just keep your lawn kind of sort of mostly hacked down to pre-jungle heights. You don’t have to have Bill Gates’ bank account to appreciate the finer things in life … and, luckily, even the best writing is cheap to come by. It’s what they say that is priceless.

Relaxation: Sometimes, all you really want to do is relax. You don’t want to think about the work you need to do, or about deadlines, or how to make the best way to replant an African Violet sound interesting. You want someone else to do the heavy lifting for a change. Somebody else can provide the story and plot, depth and twists for a change. You just want to sit back and enjoy the ride. There’s no shame in this. Everyone deserves some R&R once in a while.

And while there are some books/movies/tv shows that are never going to wow you with their writing, there are many that WILL. And I’m not just talking about the elitist kinds that have the prestigious awards in their sights. Nobody ever said “quality” had to be boring. Or that “entertaining” had to be a waste of your time. If curling up with a romance novel or a silly television sitcom makes you happy, do it. Just remember that the ones that are really good are good because (1) the writing works for them and, (2) they know exactly who their audience is.

You can’t be a good writer if you can’t focus and write.

The trick, I keep telling myself, is that it’s fine to do this sort of goofing off once in a while, but it’s a bad, dangerous habit on a regular basis. The internet, especially, is a persuasive place and it can be a huge time-suck, distracting you in the most pleasant way possible from doing what you need to do.

So, having let myself be pulled completely out of focus the last few nights … Am I a bad writer?

Though, luckily, I can redeem myself in my own eyes by reclaiming my focus and … writing.

Isn’t that what YOU should be doing right now?

It’s National Grammar Day again … and, really, one which can be celebrated by any nationality. And what better way than to sing the theme song?

“March Forth: The Grammar Song”

Like many girls, when I was little, I wanted to be a princess. I wanted to wear the floaty skirts.I wanted the jeweled crown–gold, of course, to go with my then-blonde hair. I wanted birds to help me get dressed in the morning, and to go to balls.I wanted to live in a romantic (though no doubt drafty) castle.

In short, I wanted to be perfect.

Because, you understand, I thought princesses were perfect. Did you ever see Cinderella lose her composure? Did Snow White throw temper tantrums? Did Sleeping Beauty forget to make her bed in the morning? No, of course not. They were princesses and raised to meet a higher standard of behavior. I was convinced that, if I just had that full-skirted ball gown to wear, I would suddenly behave just like a perfect princess should.

My mother used to love when I’d pretend to be a princess. I’d sit up straight. I’d say please and thank you without prompting. My clothes would stay neat, I wouldn’t fidget. And my table manners? Well, they were not only good, they were superb. I would even eat my peas one at a time because (naturally) a true princess wouldn’t be so gauche as to eat them by the forkfull.

I was remembering this the other night while I was goofing off, watching episodes of The West Wing on DVD rather than settling down to write, or to do some necessary filing, or even plug away at my knitting.

A princess would never goof off.

Being responsible, as they must be, a true princess (or prince) clearly meets their obligations promptly and without hesitation. Duty comes before pleasure.

A princess is always neat.

Take a look around. Is your desk covered with papers? Are there files on the floor? Piles on the chair? This is NOT royal behavior. Whether your castle has a staff or not, there is simply no excuse to make all this extra work for whomever does the cleaning–especially if it’s you. It’s easier to file one or two things right now than it is to wait until you have a pile of fifty items which will take a chunk of your time.

A princess has exquisite manners.

Have you received an invitation to a ball? (Or a meeting, seminar, or even just a request for a phone call?) Naturally it is only proper behavior to respond promptly and courteously. Not all of us have a social secretary to handle these mundane chores for us, but it is rude to keep people waiting, so please respond promptly to requests for your attention.

A princess takes responsibility for her actions

As tempting as it is to blame the peasants when things go wrong, a true princess understands that her country’s well-being is ultimately her responsibility.

A princess is always perfectly dressed.

A true princess would never dream of rolling out of bed and going down to the throne room in her bathrobe and slippers (exquisite though they undoubtedly are). No, she is always dressed in exactly the right attire for any occasion, with her hair neatly coiffed. She has too much respect for herself, her kingdom, and the responsibilities of her job to lounge around in sloppy clothes. I wouldn’t go so far as to tell you that you should sit at your computer in stockings and heels (or a suit and tie) at 5:00 am, but show some respect for the work you do, and at least put shoes on. And brush your hair, if you can’t find some helpful birds to comb it for you.

A princess always has sunshine.

The weather is always perfect when you’re a princess–sunshine, happy birds tweeting, puffy white clouds dotting a blue, blue sky. Really, though, the secret is that the princess brings the sunshine with her. She loves what she does and focuses on spreading joy and understanding because strife comes too often from outside her borders–she does what she can to keep her own kingdom on the right track. This is not the same as being blind to the things that need to be fixed, but more about the certainty that things will get done.

See? Even us peons can at least act like we’re royal … because inside, aren’t we all?

Now, THIS is a direct mail offer I can get behind.

This is a subscription offer from National Geographic and is one I think did just about everything right.

The top portion states “Preferred Account Order Form.” See? No attempts to mislead me. It’s telling me that I would be a preferred account (so flattering), but acknowledging that this is an order form, an offer, not something I’ve already expressed interest in. It tells me what the newsstand price is, what I’m being offered, and how much I’d save if I take them up on it.

Yes, there’s a reply-by date to encourage me not to dawdle, but it doesn’t make it sound like missing it is a black mark against my character, either.

There’s a nice premium offered, too, a free world map once I pay for my subscription. I like this because it perfectly fits National Geographic–and it’s something offered to everyone who accepts this offer, not just a select few whose mailmen raced to the mail truck the fastest. It’s something that has some value to it, too, not a cheap throw-away kind of gift like a bumper sticker. (Not that bumper stickers are bad things, I have nothing against them, but the option of using my car for free advertising would not encourage me to subscribe to a magazine.)

The letter portion spells out the subscription benefits, but unlike the Good Housekeeping offer, it talks about the subscription benefits, not just the magazine benefits. This is one of those things that can go either way–do you want to inspire people with your product? Or with the offer? You can do either–or both–but it never hurts to explain why signing up for a subscription is a better idea than picking this up at the newsstand. (Though, for the record, the back of the letter actually spells out what the magazine offers … so they’re covered either way.)

One of the other things I like? As if getting a free map and a good price wasn’t enough, they’re including some return address labels for me, just because. Now, return address labels are easy enough to produce and almost every charity seems to include them in their mailings these days, but I like them here. They immediately give me something with some value, even before I sign up. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy, like they’re really making sure that I’m going to feel welcome as a subscriber.

Then, not for nothing, but the quality of the paper is particularly nice–glossy stock with a good finger-feel to it. I don’t object to normal paper for these things, but there’s something satisfying about feeling good paper when you take the offer out of the envelope.

Well done, National Geographic!

I have already told you about the things I wanted to see in a Kindle, before plunking down my money to buy one. Without them, it just wasn’t worth $260 to me. And then, they came up with an offer I couldn’t refuse.

Buy a Kindle, try it out, and if I didn’t like it, not only would they return my money, but they would let me keep the Kindle either way.

Now, first, let’s think about this as a marketing technique …

It’s almost diabolical in its “How can you pass this up” vibe. There’s literally nothing to lose. In the details, it specified that the offer was strictly for me, that I could not pass the Kindle on to anybody else and still be eligible for the offer, there was a sharp deadline (two days before Apple’s announcement of the iPad, as it happens) … but nothing to make me suspicious. And you know I can be suspicious about “Very Special Offers.”

This one, though … how can it hurt them? Worst case scenario is that everybody who tries one asks for their money back … but hopefully will continue to use them, anyway. My guess is that they wanted to get Kindles in more people’s hands before the Apple announcement, and that maybe they’ve got a Kindle 3 in the works and wanted to get rid of some inventory ahead of time. (I told you I can be cynical.) But still … they want you to buy THEIR ebooks, not ebooks from the competition, so having a Kindle in-hand is going to encourage customer loyalty. It’s a great scheme.

Now, as to the Kindle itself.

Now that I’ve gotten my hands on one, what did I think? Starting with my points from July:

My verdict?

While there are definitely things here that I liked, as it happens (and to my own surprise), I did not actually love the Kindle. I really thought that I would, but apparently the (available) techology is not quite where I personally want it to be to wean me away from paper books. It’s the words and sentences that matter, not the delivery method–paper or electronic, a story is a story, good writing is good writing–but after playing with this for a few days, I am still reaching for my paper books instead of being beguiled by the electronic options. Will this come in handy for my next vacation, though? Oh my, yes. For travelling, I love the idea of being able to bring a huge selection of books in one place … but since I usually only have one trip a year …

As I said, I didn’t love it as they promised I would, and have asked for my money back. I’m waiting to hear what happens next. I wouldn’t be surprised to have to fill in some kind of survey about why I’m not satisfied, and I’ve hung onto the (very simple, environmentally-sound) shipping box, just in case, but still. I’m all in awe at the marketing technique.

It’s the 5th Annual Blogger’s Silent Poetry Reading. I’ve participated in 2006, 2007, 2008 over at my knitting blog andin 2008 here. Then last year gave you the Very Special Treat of sharing one of my own poems with you. it went over so well, I thought I’d try it again. It’s a rare, rare thing, so … I hope you like it!

Mourning After
by Deb Boyken

Finally, I stand, my feet firm on the shore,
And look back as the waves of grief lap at my toes.

I successfully navigated the waters, finding air
For my gasping lungs, as the tempest washed over my head.

Yet I fought my way through the waves, leaving
My battered heart no choice but to strive with the rest of me.

I struggled to the beach, victorious but weary, uncaught by
The undertow of despair dragging at my heels.

Looking back at the horizon, I see wave after wave
Baring white teeth which can no longer touch me.

Grief waits, poised to dissolve the sand beneath my feet,
But I’ve charted its greater depths, and ‘ware its watery tricks.

Still, it calls me, sussurrating in the wind, tempting me,
Promising to fill my ears, my mind, with waters of wistful memories.

I stand unmoving, my feet firmly planted on the sands of life,
My hardest challenge now to turn away.

Hmm, interesting… it’s been a while since I read this one.

Let’s take a look at another direct mail I received recently, this time for a magazine subscription. Like the last one, I consider this to be “sneaky.”

First, it looks a lot like an invoice, even though I’ve never subscribed to Good Housekeeping magazine–or even read it, so far as I can remember, except for flipping through Mom’s copy back when I was a teenager. But it’s not a magazine I’ve looked at in years, so I know for a fact that I do not subscribe now, nor have I expressed any interest in subscribing in the past.

So, at first glance out of the envelope, I was wondering what this was. The form section is emblazoned “Rate Adjustment” with a “status pending” that says, “Credit adjustment in the amount of -$33.91.”

It doesn’t state “Invoice” anywhere … which it legally cannot do, since it is not an invoice … but I think saying “Rate Adjustment” is tricky. It implies that there was a prior rate or offer to be adjusted, when in fact, all they’re really doing is offering me a deal of 81% off the cover price of the magazine. (That is, off the price that it would cost me to buy the magazine at a newsstand or bookstore all year.)

Further, the letter portion tells me, “Your credit adjustment is only valid if accepted and paid on time. If you are responding now and wish to pay your total, please see revised rate above.” That’s kind of harsh and abrupt for an offer that’s supposed to be doing me a favor, don’t you think? It’s not friendly and helpful (“Please act now! We can only offer this special rate for a limited time!”), it’s strict and unyielding–not the kind of relationship I want to start a subscription with.

The thing that irks me about this offer is that it doesn’t sound like they’re offering anything. They just want something, and come across as fully expecting that I will do what they want. Obviously, price breaks are one of the main reasons a person signs up for magazine subscriptions–that, and the convenience–but sending out a subscription offer that tells me I’ve got a “status pending” for my “rate adjustment” implies that I’ve already shown interest and that I will, of course, just send in my money because they expect me to. Call me crazy, but I like my manipulation to be a little more subtle.

There is some added incentive to respond–a chance to win a set of free dinnerware if I’m one of the first 50 people to respond to this offer. That immediately makes me skeptical, because I’d imagine that Good Housekeeping gets hundreds or thousands of subscription responses every day, and what are the odds that I’d be in the first fifty? I’m not doubting that GH will send them out, mind you, just questioning the validity of it as a premium that so few people are going to get … and one that relies on the post office and the people opening the mail to determine the lucky fifty. Certainly it’s out of my control.

The letter portion is a bulleted list of features … 12-issue annual subscription, triple-tested recipes, weight-loss advice (Do I look fat to them?), and let’s not forget the Good Housekeeping Seal. (Golly!) This portion is pretty standard, nothing really to object to, since it’s listing the benefits I’d get by subscribing. Although, really, it’s describing the benefits to reading the magazine, not necessarily to subscribing to it (but maybe that’s what they were going for).

Lastly, let’s not forget the small print on the form that describes the “Continuous Service Guarantee. Your subscription will continue until you ask us to stop. Each year you’ll receive a reminder notice followed by an invoice for the low renewal rate then in effect. You can cancel at any time and receive a refund for all unmailed issues.” Apparently by responding to this offer, I’m agreeing to have my subscription automatically renewed each year. This is not exactly an unusual thing for a magazine to offer–it’s good for the magazines to be able to count on a certain percentage of renewals, and it’s convenient for subscribers to know that they won’t miss anything. Except … I like to be ASKED first.

I don’t think this offer is as egregious as that DVD offer last week, but still think it could be improved.

• Instead of “Rate Adjustment” change the header to “Special Offer” or something that doesn’t make the reader think she’s forgotten an ongoing exchange.
• Don’t be sneaky about the fact that this is an offer for a brand-new subscription, not something that I’ve expressed interest in … we have no credit amount to adjust since I haven’t agreed to anything yet.
• If you offer a premium, make it one that all your subscribers will get–or at least, offer something to everyone with the promise of something special for some. Like, offer a free recipe-conversion booklet to everyone, with that dinnerware offer on top. But why not make it random, so people feel like they’ve got a fighting chance to win it?
• Don’t scare off your potential subscribers by being harsh on your generous offer … threatening me that this price won’t be valid if I don’t pay on time does not make me feel warm and fuzzy toward the magazine. Did I ask for this to show up in my mailbox? Why should I need to rush?
• Don’t trick me into your automatic renewal program either. I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, but give me an option to check of Yes or No if I don’t want to.

All in all? The mailing does not get MY Seal of Approval.

I sometimes think my life would be easier if there was just one kind of writing that I enjoyed doing. If all I loved was copywriting, I could focus on polishing my marketing technique. If fiction was the all-powerful muse, I could immerse myself in prose and telling great stories. Poetry, word-play, essays, articles, websites … there are so MANY different kinds of writing that I enjoy.

Sometimes nothing will do but to write non-fiction. Hard, edgy facts, temptingly spun to just the angle I want the reader to see. There are times when I want to speak in my own voice and just chat, like I’m doing now. Then there are other times when fiction calls, and I want to concentrate on a story–plots, characters, dialogue, with all the fun of seeing what happens.

For some writers, of course, this is not a problem. They do one type of writing, and do it very well, so they have no need to branch out. A person who has been writing ad copy for twenty years can probably resist the lure of novel-writing. A successful novelist probably doesn’t feel the urge to bang out a marketing campaign. Sure, they may dabble. Novelists adapt their stories into screenplays. Copywriters write articles for trade publications. Poets dig down to produce the occasional short story … but many writers know what they like to write, and they stick to it.

Some of us, though (cough), want to do it all. So, what’s a writer to do? How can a writer deal with being pulled by different muses–fiction and non-fiction–without being torn apart?

In some ways, this is easy … the point is to WRITE, no matter what you are writing.

Writing is like a muscle that needs to be exercised. It’s a skill that needs to be honed. A pot that needs to keep simmering. If you let it get flabby, dull, and cold, it’s just going to be that much harder the next time you sit down to write. You are better off writing descriptions for catalogs or letters to old friends than writing nothing at all. Just … Write. It doesn’t matter what.

Sometimes the Market determines what you write.

If you are between novels, you can write and sell a few short stories, or some articles while you wait to hear back from your publisher. If you are a freelancer facing a lull in paying clients, this is the perfect time to work on that novel. If an editor calls and offers you a contract for a series of articles–even if articles aren’t what you normally do–you should consider it. Don’t forget, writing is not just a hobby or vocation (though it can be those things)–it is also a profession. You should follow your heart and preferences as much as you can, but sometimes you just need to go where the money is.

Is it possible to be a fabulous writer without focusing on one kind of writing?

I think absolutely yes. Far from believing that dabbling in a wide range of writing styles makes me weaker, my technique diluted, I think that it gives me an ever-growing list of skills to fall back on. Knowing how to pace a story makes my ad copy better. Understanding basic marketing techniques makes my query letters stronger. Enjoying the word play of a good poem heightens my appreciation of finding just the right word when I’m writing anything else. Just like a diet of one kind of food is unhealthy (and boring), it’s good to mix things.

A change is as good as a rest.

So, you’ve been slogging on your novel for weeks, concentrating on character development, making sure your scenes are successfully doing whatever they need to do, and frankly, you’re a little tired. The last thing you want to do this morning is to look at your computer keyboard … But, wait! Somebody wants you to write their new webpage. Something new! Something different! Suddenly, you feel inspired. Your fingers fly over the keys, and you produce new copy for them in record time … and, even better, when you look back at your novel? It doesn’t feel like slogging anymore.

Just like a vacation, or pausing for a long walk–sometimes, just doing something else for a while is all we need to reinvigorate ourselves and our writing.

You can use your desire for other types of writing as incentive.

Maybe this only works for me because I am a fiction addict. I love stories. I love to follow a character through the course of a book (or better, a series) until I feel like they’re old friends. Curling up with a new book by a favorite author is one of my all-time favorite ways to spend a Saturday afternoon–or any afternoon. But, I find that I get so caught up in reading about other people’s characters, I sometimes lose the incentive to focus on my own. So, I’ll put myself on a fiction diet–no reading fiction allowed until I’ve worked on my book. It might seem crazy, but it works, because the need in my blood for plot, character, clues, layers–all the things that make a good story–will ultimately drive me to sit in front of the computer. If my own fiction is all I can get, I am so there.

Similarly, if I’ve been neglecting my blogs … I stop reading other people’s. No blogs, no posts, no updates, no thoughts on the writing industry … so, obviously, I need to write my own.

Balance is never a bad thing.

And, anyway, whoever said that you could only do one? Keeping a healthy balance of gifts, skills, talents, and interests are what make us balanced people. Sure, if you are a prodigy with an enormous gift, you need to focus on that to exclusion of other things, practicing your violin until all hours, but falling behind in biology class. But, with the exception of some rare, truly gifted people … most of us have a variety of normal-sized talents instead of one big one, and it’s better to keep them all in shape. If you love writing fiction and non-fiction, then darn it, write both. Why not?

Personally, I find I need a balance of both–for reading and for writing. Even with television–I watch scripted shows for the stories, but also watch news and documentaries for the factual stuff. If I start getting too much of one, I feel unbalanced, just as if I suddenly ate nothing but sweets … or stopped eating them altogether. I’m happier with a mix. I find the urge to write fiction is strongest when I’m sitting at my desk at my day job, trapped without access to TV or a novel. (Awkward, of course, because that’s when I need to be doing the work they pay me for.) When I’m home watching television or sitting with a book, I find that I want to write blog posts or marketing copy. I need a mix to keep myself happy.

You are only limited by yourself.

Why limit myself? The better I write, the better it is for everyone–me, my readers, and the people who pay me. It doesn’t hurt to have preferences, and a natural bent for a specific style or technique should be encouraged … but who says a violinist can’t branch out to the cello once in a while? Or that a baker can’t get the urge to make a pot of soup for a change? Just because you make your living as a copywriter doesn’t mean you can’t write short stories, too. And if you’ve got a novel you’re working on, why not do some freelancing, too?

Because–limiting your writing because you think you should? That’s like any other diet … it’s going to get very boring very quickly. Variety is the spice of (writing) life!

I got this direct mail piece the other day, and was kind of appalled at how sneaky it was.

Mind you, I love creative direct mails. It’s a tough market, and if you have something to sell, you need to be creative.

This one, though? A DVD in a nice case, a “yours to keep!” so-called collectible coin (golly, for me?), two separate return envelopes, and a confusing set of instructions.

Picture it: I just came home from a long day, am tired, just want to flip through my mail and start thinking about what to do for supper, and instead I’m trying to figure out why these people are sending me a DVD I didn’t order.

First, I had to find the letter. This long sheet of paper has a return envelope and instructions on the outside, with this letter folded onto the inside … but since it was behind/inside/attached to the envelope, it took me at least two passes through the pieces in the envelope to find the thing.

The letter starts off, “You must be wondering why you’ve received the enclosed DVD, entitled ‘How the Earth was Made.’ the reason is simple, please let me explain…“  Well, they got that part right because that was exactly what I was wondering.

It then goes into a lengthy explanation about how the Smithsonian Institution is creating a “landmark” collection of DVDs and how I am so, so lucky to be given the chance to “see, hear, feel and appreciate what the Chronicles Series is all about.”  It explains how I can “keep it with no obligation as a gift.” Okay, fine, whatever. I’ve subscribed to Smithsonian Magazine since the 1980s so I am legitimately on their mailing list. I’ve gotten Very Special Offers from them before, just … never one like this.

Because here’s what bugs me. Well, really, there are several things, but this is the big one.

I’ve read this thing several times, and I still swear it’s contradicting itself.

It says:

“If you don’t wish to participate in the series you may return the DVD along with your Member Reply Form in the white postage-paid Merchandise Return Envelope attached to this letter… Because you didn’t ask for this special DVD, you don’t have to participate or send it back and you can consider it a gift.”

Um, call me crazy, but why are they both asking me to send back the unwanted DVD and also telling me that I can keep it? If I’m supposed to feel empowered by having all these options, it’s not working. I just feel confused. Am I particularly slow today? Am I lightheaded from hunger because I’m still trying to get past the pile of mail and to the kitchen?

The actual order form doesn’t help. It’s got two check boxes, one for “Yes, please, sign me up” one for “No, I’m returning the DVD, please don’t send any more,” AND then there’s small print telling me I can just keep it without participating. Huh?

Now, as a consumer, I’m not only confused at this point, but I’m frustrated. Confused, frustrated, hungry, and getting annoyed.

Seriously–it’s a direct mail piece, something I did not request, so legally I am under no obligation … so why are they (1) making it so complicated and (2) making a big deal about how I should return the DVD if I don’t want it and yet still decide to return it (as opposed to not wanting it and just throwing it away)?

You think I’m kidding?

Talk about labor-intensive. If I am feeling so inclined as to return this lovely little DVD I never asked to be saddled with, I’ve got this cute little pictogram explanation of exactly what I am required to do to return it. 1. Detach the envelope, 2. remove the DVD from its case, and 3. mail it back–but it comes with the warning that, “Due to postal changes DO NOT return the plastic DVD case. You may keep, recycle, or discard it.” (Well, that’s lucky.)

How is putting your Business-Reply permit limitations on the consumer a good idea? Some people love nothing better than wasting as much of that as possible–they stuff BREs with cardboard, send back blank blow-in cards, anything they can think of because they’re so frustrated with direct mails and subscription cards. If I were that kind of person, telling me that you–who have already made me confused and frustrated–will get in trouble if I send back the entire case is frankly just asking for trouble.

But, let’s go back to that whole Do I or Do I Not Return the DVD issue which I’m STILL not clear on. What on God’s green earth does my sending back the unwanted DVD in a paper envelope do for any of us? You can say what you want about the post office, but that thing is going to get stomped on. It’s not like it’s going to return intact. In fact, the Smithsonian is going to end up paying fairly substantial return-mail postage for me to send back a DVD that I didn’t ask for and that they’re going to have to just toss in the garbage.

As I see it, there should be THREE possiblities at this point–1. Yes, I love this video, enroll me, and keep them coming. 2. I didn’t like this particular DVD, and am returning it, but would like to see more, or 3. Who are you and why are you bothering me, this is all garbage.

Except, none of the verbiage in the letter or on the order form acknowledges option #2 at all–which, to my mind, is the only reason you would WANT someone to send back the DVD if they’re not interested.

Believe me, the cheap “Collector’s Series” collectible coin with the picture of the Smithsonian castle is NOT enough to counter-balance the things wrong with this direct mail.

No matter how wonderful the DVD is … I haven’t watched it, and don’t really plan to … the Smithsonian just spent a small fortune to assemble and mail this crappy direct mail. There’s the special, outer envelope, the DVD in its snazzy case, a non-postage-paid return envelope, a postage-paid return envelope, (and, why two envelopes?) an insert reiterating the instructions for returning the DVD that I apparently don’t need to return at all, the letter, the order form, plus the coin. That’s a lot of stuff to get into one envelope, and not really light on the postage, either. Not to mention that the letter/order form/BRE combination was likely a custom paper order.

And, after putting all this money into the direct mail, they end up with a presentation that’s confusing and complicated … I’m still waiting for a reason as to why I should bother sending the DVD back at all. The letter with an explanation was buried, folded in amongst all the other things, so that I was already frustrated by the time I found it.

Folks, here are some of the things you need to remember about direct mails.

• Get people to open the envelope–which this one, I admit, did
• Keep things simple. Don’t make your potential customers hunt for what you want them to do.
• Give them as much information as you want, but make it accessible.
• For heaven’s sake, don’t give out mixed signals. If you want the DVD back, say so, but don’t tell me that I CAN send it back but that I can also keep it for no obligation. Which one am I supposed to do so that I can sleep at night?
• Remember that customers–much as we love them–can be stupid. If you make things too complicated for them, they get upset, like a 4-year old trying to fit together a jigsaw puzzle.
• Bonus gifts are nice and catchy–the “collector’s coin” idea had potential, but the actual coin is kind of cheesy. That can still be okay, if it’s a one-shot, get-attention deal. Then you could just give it to your child to play Bank with, but no, the sales letter makes a point of telling me that I’ll get more coins with the other videos, “until my coin collection is complete.” Gee, there’s incentive, because I really want more of these things.
• Don’t make people WORK for what you want them to do. The harder you make it to respond to your mailing, the fewer people are going to respond. Consumers may enjoy actively checking off their preferences in boxes and sticking stickers on the right form, but make it clear! Make it fun! Don’t make it feel like work.

Oh yes, and why did I call this sneaky at the beginning? Because, since the instructions are unclear, and the proper response if you don’t want it is perplexing, my guess is that some people are going to get this mailing, with the DVD right there in their hand, and just pay the $12.95 because they don’t want to get into trouble. Not something you’d expect from a classy organization like the Smithsonian Museum.

But then, there’s more small print to this mailing, saying “This program is being administered under a licensing arrangement by TN Marketing LLC, a for-profit company.” Maybe I’m not the only one to question their practices, and perhaps the Smithsonian should have done some more research?