absolutely

key

thing

f—

hate

like

lame

Not because the word is bad, and not forever. Not absolutely. Just for the day or the hour. Force your thoughts to find a new path.

Along that path you just might find what you’ve been looking for longest; the key thing, that you couldn’t find so long as you were calling it the key thing.

Another way to do this experiment: drop your favorite word, or whatever word you reach for most often.

You’ll hear other people better, too. Probably better than they hear themselves. Yesterday you didn’t hear everything you said. Today you’ll hear that in everyone: what they say that they don’t hear. Feel the advantage shift to you.

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Instead of English Composition, kids of the future will learn multi-media journalism.

Later, for a report on water, your child will interview someone on video, then interview a second person who was mentioned by the first, and so on.

Start them with the Ken Burns effect, named after the man who made award-winning shows on the Civil War and Baseball. Photography was young in the early days of baseball (and the Civil War era), but Ken Burns turned that to his advantage. Those old stills take us back in time. We see them as if we were sitting beside Ken Burns at his work table. “Here’s an example,” he would say. “Look over here. Look closely….”

Or start them with a still clip from a favorite video, like Emily on her Warhorse.

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(Stuck in traffic) You know what my dad used to say about the Long Island Expressway? He said it was the biggest parking lot in the world.

The laugh (if any) is in the timing.

How’s this? Just a tiny tweak better?

(Stuck in traffic) This thing… The Long Island Expressway… What is this thing? The world’s largest parking lot?

See. Far more hilarious, right?

If there’s a difference, it’s this: “parking lot” touches the pin to the bubble, so now the pop comes last. Make ‘em wait.

And the dots… Timing, like the swoops and flags and dots on a music score.

Even the question marks: the tone rises.

Wanna diagram that?

This thing… The Long Island Expressway… What is this thing? The world’s largest parking lot?

Yet timing is why you learn to diagram a sentence; or the only good reason I know. You learn to move “parking lot” to the end and tease and tease with dots that show everyone how pathetically hard your overmatched brain is struggling. Just when they’ve given up on you, you cough up “parking lot.” They were embarrassed for you, holding their breath for you, and now, pop, they’re relieved.

This, and everything you will ever say or write…

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Seth Godin, the marketing genius who has published half-a-dozen bestselling books, sees the price of books plunging to commodity levels. No one should plan to make a living making books, he warns. Why? Too many books: eight times as many this year as last!

I love movies and this strikes terror in me:

The only reason that movies still cost so much to make is the finite number of movie screens available to the studios (this choke point enforces the scarcity of the short head). Once the world is 100% Netflix, don’t expect to see many more $200 million movies.

But at IBM I learned a trick that might help.

I spoke to groups when I was at IBM, though in high school I would sooner throw myself under a bus than walk to the front of the room and talk about Ayn Rand or The Brothers Karamazov. I dealt with my terror in two ways.

First, I made sure to know more about the topic than anyone else in the room.

Second, I turned the hot spotlight on my listeners at the beginning and throughout.

“Let’s go around the room,” I would say. “Say your name, where you’re from, and what you hope to accomplish here today.”

Now I am not the only name they know, not the only person who must speak up and make sense, and not the only person who will succeed or fail here today. They feel peer pressure. They don’t want to look bad to one another.

I call on them early and often. They are less likely to roast me if I can roast them back. I have the advantage: I am standing over them with the microphone, deciding who speaks and when.

Thereafter I am kind, and so are they.

How could that trick help eBooks, or give eBooks a better future?

My trick did not always work. Later I trained coaches and led groups of a hundred or more. Anything can happen in business coaching and life coaching (they run together). If someone stood up for coaching about an eating disorder, could I expect to know more about the topic than anyone else in the room? Could I put the hot spotlight on each person, or could some people hide from me in a group that size?

Well, yes, the topic is always coaching, not eating disorders or lost love or whatever, and yes, after you put two or three people under your hot spotlight, the rest sit up straight and pay attention. They want to be ready if your spotlight falls on them.

What’s the equivalent for an eBook, where you never see your readers?

Look again at that flood of eBooks Godin mentioned. Don’t most of them consist entirely of text? How often does an eBook do anything a printed book can’t do? Often the eBook does less. It drops the illustrations.

Sure, I can see the price of such eBooks falling to almost nothing.

Text is not enough.

True, in the Internet era more people will see our words than hear them, and more people will see our words than see us. But words seen on the screen are not enough. There are too many: too many of us, and too many words.

Can the eBook do what I did when speaking to groups? Put the hot spotlight on the reader, and call the reader to attention with a jolt of alarm?

Remember the tiny list of questions at the end of textbook chapter? A lazy teacher would make those questions your homework.

Suppose in an eBook those we add illustrations to those questions? And animate the illustrations? And make the animations interactive, responding to the reader? And make those interactive animations a game? Now the eBook reader can win or lose at the end of each chapter; can win or lose against other readers of the same eBook; maybe against other readers by the dozens or the hundreds, other readers at the same moment, far across the Internet. Peer pressure calls the reader to attention. The hot spotlight falls on the reader. We know who that reader is, and we keep score. We start the eBook by asking the reader a few questions about himself.

This turns the textbook chapter inside out. The tiny questions at the end of the chapter swallow up the chapter. Each chapter is a game, and you get the text of the chapter in the course of the game, in the form of clues and instructions for winning the game.

Now eBooks sell the way games sell.

Now eBooks sell big.

###

###

The two scales? On a small scale, you are making sentences and paragraphs. We’ll come to that. Work on the larger scale first: remaking minds; others and your own. If you want them to change their mind, show them how: change your mind first.

At that upper level, diagram this way:

How much does it help to research the official truth about something? Instead dig into the mind of the people you are talking to. No law says people have to make sense, and usually they don’t. They’re gone before you finish the sentence, “That makes no sense.” Assume they make sense to themselves, some kind of sense, and then find out what. You want to move them to your side, not destroy them. Start by moving their way, walk with them for a while, then bring them your way.

Instead of researching climate change, for example, research what the political right thinks about climate change.

Wouldn’t it be great if you could test out your paper before you send it away? You can. Interview someone from your opposition; not a clown you can easily disgrace, but the best of your opposition, who might disgrace you. Better now, before you send away that paper. Do it early, so you don’t throw away pages and pages when you find they don’t work.

After that, there’s no official right or better way to make sentences or paragraphs. They’re better and right when they move more people your way. They are music and song, those sentences and paragraphs; music to lure and coax the opposition to join you.

Write honey, not vinegar. What good are opponents once you destroy them, or drive them away, or push them out of sight? You want them to take up your song, to swell the chorus of your anthem.

Think of the beat in your favorite music, or the soundtrack of your favorite movie. Write like that. Hear what you write. Hear the beat and the mood. The words on a page are just notes on a score. We don’t love or hate them till we hear them. Write to be loved by your enemies, not correct on paper. When the music is good, you know, the words hardly matter.

Before your enemies love you, you must find something to love in them. Go listen to them, and the music they love, then bring them to hear yours. That’s writing: crossing the distance between minds to bring minds closer, so two voices add not subtract, and twist around one another, in a louder song with always more surprises.

Learn to write from music teachers.

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I have the notes, I will be back with them, the next day when I have a stretch of eight or ten fresh hours that are not urgently needed elsewhere.

Don’t give up…

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We know who did it.

We know she did it.

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CH4  +   2O2  >  CO2  +   2H2O

to these bouncing Pillsbury Doughboys:

Then why can’t we, when teaching composition, go from this:

to this:

or a beach house on a terraced slope:

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