Friday, February 27, 2009

I'm proud to be an Okie from Muskogee


I dutifully read all the assigned books in middle and high school—I was a diligent student and always did my homework. But I never read for pleasure. It just didn't occur to me, and it wasn't a tradition in my home.

The summer after my freshman year in college, I decided I wanted to be a well-read person. I wanted to read all the classics. I'm not sure why this idea got into my head, but I was determined to spend the summer becoming literary.

I met with a friend who I considered to be very smart and asked him for suggestions. He named dozens of books off the top of his head and highly recommended The Grapes of Wrath as his all-time favorite. I figured that was as good a place as any to start.

The book was all he'd promised. It was the best book I'd ever read, and I'd done it of my own volition. I was on my way to becoming the bookish type.

I went home to visit my parents later that summer. Over dinner my first night back, I excitedly told them all about the book—the story about the Joad family traveling to California to work in the orchards, the injustice of farm labor, and the sad lives of migrant workers. Had they read it? Could I lend it to them?

My father looked at me, mildly amused. Being a Texas cowboy, he never really knew what to make of his city girl who wanted nothing more than to be smart and sophisticated.

"Well Deary," he had a sweet way of saying that even though he was getting ready to put me in my place. "I don't need to read a book about going to Californ-i-a to pick fruit. I know that story pretty well."

He went on to tell me some family history I hadn't heard—had never asked. His father packed up the family and drove from Oklahoma to California as one of the last waves of dust bowl farmers to head west.

My dad was about three years old when they left. He remembered the orchards and the beautiful central valley. He was old enough to remember the journey back to Oklahoma when his family returned to the farm several years later. My grandparents were one of the lucky few to be able to reclaim their land and start over.

I'll never forget that conversation with my dad. I knew he'd grown up pretty poor, but it was something we didn't discuss as a family. His athletic scholarship to play football got him through college and on to a different life than his parents, including a nice house in Dallas where I grew up.

I'm amazed, looking back, that my first step into reading as an adult had such a profound effect on my view of my family and my upbringing. I would have learned more about my Dad's history eventually,  as I got older and more thoughtful. Instead I read one of the most memorable books of all time, opening my mind to the power of storytelling, and got a jolt of family history.

Not a bad first step.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Which ad solicited the highest response?


These ads appeared next to each other when I asked Google to define "part and parcel" and I followed an idioms link. (Don't ask.)

Here is an excellent example of an AdWords test, though I didn't expect to see them side by side. It certainly makes me wonder which ad receives the higher response.

It also makes me think there is a level of marketing analysis that I'm missing. What do people respond to? What makes them click the link? What turns a click into a purchase?

I suppose in order to answer those questions, I'd have to stay in grad school a while longer. But I am curious about the psychological workings that influence and push consumer behavior.

I would like to think that people are surprising and difficult to predict, even in this day of instant feedback. Am I wrong? Has anyone stumbled upon the secret code to consumer behavior? (I can tell you it is not revealed in the book Groundswell.)

Friday, February 20, 2009

I have succumbed to email marketing


And the worst part is that it was Martha Stewart.

Several years ago, I decided to send flowers to my Mom on Valentine's Day. She always sends me a card, and I always feel guilty because I'm not thoughtful enough to get a card in the mail to her in time. I barely manage to find something for my husband the day of.

In a panic to be a better daughter, I went online to find something I could send and have it to her by the 14th. Martha came to my rescue. Google offered marthastewart.com as a gift option for my search. I ordered some red tulips in a glass vase with three lines typed on a little card wishing my mother Happy Valentine's Day!

Mom loved it. She went on and on about how great it was to have flowers in the house, how long it'd been since she'd been given fresh flowers.

The next year around February 4th, I received an email from Martha. She ever so gently reminded me of my previous purchase and offered some tasteful ideas for this year. It gets me every year. I remember how much Mom loved that first bunch of tulips, and I can't bare to disappoint her.

I'm usually ruthless with the junk button in my Mail application. I've even banned most political emails from my inbox since the election ended. But I was happy to get that email from Martha this year. I can't imagine a Valentine's Day without the gushing thank you phone call from my Mom.


Sunday, February 15, 2009

Branding Ooligan Press

In my Magazine Editing class on Thursday, we were fortunate to have an excellent guest speaker, Randy Gragg.

Gragg was the architecture and urban design critic for the Oregonian from 1989 to 2007. He left the paper to become the editor of Portland Spaces. He described his role as editor of the magazine and how he plans to survive in the increasingly difficult world of publishing.

As he spoke about the ways he is trying to broaden the readership and advertising base of his magazine, he called himself a born brander. He is always considering how he can strengthen the public's relationship to Portland Spaces' brand.

Some of his ideas include an informal speakers series and design tours. The idea is to create enough confidence in Portland Spaces that people will show up when the magazine hosts an event. This idea—wrapping an identity around more than just the publication—is important for Ooligan Press.

The program is in the early stages of putting together a spring Open House. The details are still being ironed out, but I think it is a great idea to have an annual event to showcase the press.

It may take a few years to get established, but the Open House could become an important event in Portland , maybe even regional, publishing. Current students and graduates of the program could offer a pitch table—a big success at Wordstock last year, sample edits, and marketing help for new authors to name a few. And the event would provide the opportunity to showcase graduate portfolios.

I think we'd all agree that Ooligan Press needs to be better known in the community and that our fundraising efforts depend on it. We need to produce great books, but we also need to invest in our brand.

Friday, February 13, 2009

You can reach me at...

I've always had at least two email addresses—work and personal. Since I left my job last year I lost the work address but gained two new ones. I currently have a Comcast account, PSU, and Gmail.

I've had the Comcast account since 2002 (before that it was an AT&T account). It is my general use address where I receive the bulk of business and personal email. When I started graduate school I gained the mandatory PSU account. I use it for school related communication, though much of my school email comes to the Comcast account.

I only recently opened the Gmail account for the Online Marketing class. I've mostly used it to set up Blogger, Twitter, and Facebook accounts. All the sudden, I'm seeing lots of activity here.

Since I use a Mac, keeping up with my email accounts is really easy—even on my phone. The mail application has a simple set-up for multiple accounts—I have the preferences set to check all three every ten minutes. I love the discreet red bubble and soft sound that indicate a new message has come in. I usually check email right away when I see the bubble, but it's pretty easy to ignore if I'm in the middle of something.

When I went to work for the printing company oh so many years ago (1996), I set up the company's first email account. Back then, all artwork that went to press had to be couriered on a disk to a service bureau, then the film was returned again by courier. Once I got on email, I was able to send artwork as an attachment, cutting the courier costs in half. It was a revelation.

Well that was enough of a stroll down memory lane, but I honestly cannot remember what life was like without email. It is especially important to me because I'm not a phone person. I rarely answer the phone, but I respond to email without fail.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

A little perspective on book production



Oregon at Work, a forthcoming release from Ooligan Press, is due to the printer tomorrow. As the designer, I've been scrambling to tie up the loose ends and get the interior and cover ready to meet the launch date.

I got the index back from the indexer, but it was too long for the pages I'd allotted. I had trouble finding the final, final back cover copy. I can't get the spine size from the printer. We still don't have the Library of Congress catalog information for the copyright page. 

I'm not sure if you're feeling my pain yet, but I'm trying.  There are many details to iron out even for the most straight-forward (not to be confused with foreword!) print production.

I took a break to write a blog and happened upon this video. I'm going to stop complaining now. All it takes is a little perspective.

This is a great video series on the Barnes and Noble website called Cover Story. It features interviews with various artists in the book trade. While I watched this video, my worries over Oregon at Work felt very small indeed. Can you imagine the mind-boggling production issues these fellas face?

I couldn't help but laugh when Robert Sabuda says, "When I was a boy, I had lots of pop-up books . . . So I taught myself how to make pop-ups." Oh really? It sounds so simple.

I hope you all enjoy the video.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Ooligan Press released new title


Do Angels Cry? Tales of the War

by Matko Marušić

Book cover Do Angels Cry? Tales of the War

This collection of short stories offers an intimate view of the 1991 war in Croatia. Each story presents a different perspective of struggle and devotion to country during a time of war. A father talks his son out of building a bomb. An older man struggles to contribute in some way to the war effort. A doctor and his hospital are liberated at the end of the war. A couple and their young daughter are finally allowed to return to their hometown of Split.

Marušić captures the essence war—not the war fought on the battlefield, but the struggles at home, in the small-town streets, and in the daily lives of citizens. His spare language and vivid images illuminate the war not found in history books.

Do Angles Cry? is a new release by Ooligan Press, the student-run trade press at Portland State University. For more information about all the titles available from Ooligan, visit www.ooliganpress.pdx.edu


ISBN: 978-932010-23-7

5½˝ x 8½˝, softcover
160 pages
$14.95

For more information: ooliganmarketing@pdx.edu


About the Author

Matko Marušić was born in Split, Croatia, in 1946. Matko Marušić’s other writings include a novel, a collection of short stories for children, and two additional collections of short stories for adults. Do Angels Cry? Tales of the War was originally published in Croatia and Great Britain in 1996. A preface, written by Dr. Stanimir Vuk-Pavlovic, has been added for the American edition.

This book is about the facet of the human price of the war…Yet, this book tells the simple truth of the ordinary people caught in extraordinarily desperate situations when choices are few and all are bad. They are the response to the statement, “What is not worth dying for, is not worth living for.”
— Dr. Stanimir Vuk-Pavlovic, Hematology/Oncology and Preventative Medicine, Mayo Clinic

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Can you trust online reviews?


Paying attention to online consumer reviews pays. According to a survey by Neilson Online, eighty-one percent of online shoppers read reviews while shopping during the holiday season this year.

Even for consumers who did their shopping at local retailers, web sites play an important role in their purchase decision. Fifty-five percent of survey respondents said they researched products online before going to a store to buy.


The top factors in evaluating customer reviews were:
The product has multiple ratings or reviews—63%
The rating or review comes from an established source—14%

But can online reviews be trusted? I found plenty of stories about pay for play practices.

An interesting story surfaced this month about paying for ratings and reviews on Amazon. An employee of Belkin used Amazon's Mechanical Turk site to offer $.65 as payment per favorable review of its router that had received poor ratings from consumers. The ploy was discovered and reported, and the company issued an apology within forty-eight hours.

I think the story about Belkin's bogus customer reviews is instructive. It points out how important online reviews are to a product's success—that a high-level employee would resort to such an unethical practice to counter the negative reviews being posted by real customers.

The story also points out the level playing field that is possible on the web. Belkin's pay for play scheme was discovered by a blogger, and the story spread through the wires quickly. Not only were the reviews pulled by Amazon and an apology issued by Belkin, but the story's popularity serves to punish the company's behavior far beyond a bad review.

I am hopeful that companies will heed this cautionary tale. There are other ways to deal with customer reviews than trying to rig the system. Foremost, they need to set up areas on their own sites to get public feedback—a space to respond to customers. If online marketers can turn around a dissatisfied customer, they will save more than a single purchase. They will earn the respect of every person that customer tells—online or otherwise.