I have been working on the the album cover for Inspiration is Bliss. After three years of working on this collection of songs, I’m feeling that I am one song shy of its completion. There will be 9 songs total. Here is the first comp of the album cover. Look familiar? I used this texture in the header above.

I see this mistake often, and I often have to think about the difference between the two. So I thought I’d share.

Than versus Then.

Than is a conjunction or preposition used in unequal comparisons: (The taco was tastier than the burrito.)

Then is (usually) an adverb indicating time or consequence: (I bit into the taco. It was then I realized, the taco was tastier than the burrito.)

He reflected deeply, until this feeling completely overwhelmed him and he reached a point where he recognized causes; for to recognize causes, it seemed to him, is to think, and through thought alone feelings become knowledge and are not lost, but become real and begin to mature. - Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

One thing my mother always told me was, “You don’t have a whole lot to say, but you sure have a lot to write about.” These days, I communicate through talk much more effectively than I did when I was younger. Although, I still would prefer to have the time to think about what I say through a process like writing before I speak and stand the chance of being misunderstood.

I’m sure I’m not alone. Effective communication is numero uno in importance for the success of any relationship, we all know this, yet it is so difficult to find the time to do it well. I watch people struggle with this in everything I do and have done in the past. Communication is a multi-faceted interchange of ideas, feelings, beliefs. Energies are being exchanged, insecurities are covering thoughts, changing thoughts, and half truths are even spoken in the name of self-interest. It takes a very analytical individual to decipher individual intentions, yet we all have to be real. Stop and take a look around at what we have become: Marriages: Even the most sacred of words, the wedding vow, has become insincere hogwash in 50% of cases. The Death of the Salesman and All Marketers are Liars: Consumer purchasing decisions are becoming more and more based on the buying experiences of close friends and family. Politics: well…exactly my point.

Let’s face it…insincerity has become a 21st Century American cultural norm, and surely all this insincerity has taken its toll on effective communication. Personally, I’m weary of it.

Take the whole job interview process for example. As of lately, I have been acknowledging the whole idea of insincerity during the onset of the interview. In part, to evaluate the interviewer. If the interviewer acts as though they have no understanding of what I am referring to, I know from the beginning an unhealthy relationship may be in the making.

Maybe these dynamic, short-termed mindscapes are a reflection of environmental adaptations. In today’s world, everything changes so fast…and we as individuals need to change to keep up. So maybe rampid insincerity is a reflection of this larger trend.

Nevertheless, I feel it is important to reflect deeply, to check oneself, and evaluate one’s own intentions. As Hesse stated, we need to ‘recognize the causes’ of our thoughts and actions. We need to think deeper about the ramifications of our words. Words are very powerful, and in today’s world one simple statement can have a long lasting effect on another’s impression of your integrity, honesty, etc. This is especially important in the workplace.

In conclusion…Writing, or a public style of writing such as blogging, helps us stay accountable for our thoughts. If we are brave enough to put these thoughts in writing for everyone to read, perhaps we are making a commitment to be more accountable to the ideas we are expressing. Maybe not. Either way, at least we are making a public commitment to think before we speak.

I’m a teacher. I don’t teach one subject. I’m expected to teach many subjects because my students have been removed from the general education environment. They are said to be incapable of learning in this environment, and few teachers enjoy working with them. I’m more than willing to tackle this challenge, because I have never encountered a field of study that doesn’t spark my curiosity. I have learned that it is the teacher’s choice to perceive a student’s individual idiosyncrasies as a convenient excuse for giving up or as a launching pad into an innovative personal teaching style. I teach emotional intelligence as a beginning point for all other learning. To me a good teacher is like a clear and truthful magic mirror. The student can ask to be shown how he or she appears in their fullest spiritual dimension and the teacher will find a skillful way to show this. Throughout the learning process the student peers into a world of words, actions, examples, and advice given by the teacher. Once the student sees clearly, change is possible.

I’m also a student. My students are my greatest teachers. This is the story of how I fell into my passion. Since I discovered my passion for teaching, I rarely tire or complain. I hardly ever think of myself first unless it is in relationship to my students. As I teach, I am constantly learning, and I’m constantly reminded that my students and I are a reflection of the change in which I hope to see in the world. This is the story of Billy Whitbeck. On the Road, Each Turn Is Another Lesson Learned:

The end men looked for cometh not, and a path there is where no man thought – Euripides, Medea

The roadside fog impaired my vision as my car glided down the winding county road and past the barns and farmhouses nestled in the marshy meadowlands of the rural Appalachian hillside. After stopping for coffee and a frozen sausage biscuit, I turned the corner and entered the parking lot of a tiny elementary school in Trimble, OH. “What the heck am I doing?” I asked myself over and over again, “This is definitely a twisted part of the movie I call my life.”

I greeted the principal and entered the school wondering what festivities awaited the long day ahead. Operating on a couple hours of sleep and a fuzzy head from last night’s gig at O’Hooley’s pub, I’m not sure I will be able to make it past lunch. I can’t wait to get this over with so I can return to my true passions: art and music. Finding my way through the labyrinth towards the back of the school building, I found a former storage room, which would serve as my classroom for the next couple of months. Fumbling for the key, I unlocked the creaking door of room 125, and took a step back as my nostrils flared to the pungent odor of mildew. The long dark green chalkboards on each side of the room were flaked and badly in need of repair. The little stubs of chalk sat in the trough: glaring symbols of illiteracy and poverty right smack dab in the heart of Middle America. Hesitantly, my eyes scanned to the darkened brown spot on the ceiling and followed the raindrops as they slowly collected in the yellow bucket strategically placed on the corner of my desk. A mental note struck aloud and I recalled a documentary of the rural Ohio public school system I watched in an American Education class I took during my undergraduate days at Rice University. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by the deja vu–like feeling of being in the right place at the right time.

I had been touring for a year with my band, living the American dream – or at least that’s what I thought at the time. Our bus broke down, and we were stuck outside of Athens OH. Reluctantly, we rented a farmhouse and picked up odd jobs for a couple of months until we could get back on our feet financially. While the others worked construction and waited tables I reasoned: “I have always been a good student, a good student makes a good teacher, right?” So, I filled in for an absent teacher who was resting after a bout of chronic fatigue. I was told by the administration, “This field takes strong people, I hope they don’t run you off.” The bell rung and twelve children labeled by the education system as developmentally handicapped filled the quiet room with chaotic energy. The yelling and excessive chatter tested my nerves and patience, so I began the impossible daily ritual of attempting to maintain order by correcting one student at a time. It was a long year and by the end, I told myself, “Never, Never Again!”

Ironically, it wasn’t but a year and a half later, I found myself in another difficult situation in my frustrating pursuit of attempting to combine individual artistic expression and business. Finally, I made a decision to appreciate the artistic successes I experienced and move on to something else. I moved back to my hometown of San Antonio, Texas and began to figure out my next career move. My own misfortunes, a terrible job market, and financial desperation inspired me to go searching once again for a substitute teaching job. Except this time around, timing and fate would be in my favor. This was when I met one of my greatest teachers, Billy Whitbeck. Multiple Intelligences:

Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The trouble-makers. The round heads in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules, and they have no respect for the status-quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify, or vilify them. But the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do. - Apple

I was escorted to the self contained room hidden in the back of the school by a jolly, older fellow named Mr. Bob. I thought to myself, “Wow, not another storage room.” Bob walked with a relaxed gait, and filled me in on the recent misadventures of the district’s most behaviorally challenged student, Billy. “You know this little guy has been beat up, he has no friends, multiple medical issues, he picks his nose, lies, steals, cheats, and has a violent temper when he doesn’t get his way. What he really needs is a friend.” As he spoke, I absorbed as much as I could, but I was feeling a little overwhelmed already. I didn’t realize at the time that Bob would later become a role model, a pillar of emotional strength and an invaluable source of knowledge in dealing with children diagnosed with EBD. We entered the classroom where Billy was arguing with the behavior specialist. Interrupted by our entrance, Billy turned to us for feedback on his hopeless debate:

“Can a kid go to juvenile for conquering the world?”

“Oh forget it! Who are you?!”

Before I could answer, he rifled another question expecting no answer,” “Did you know that I’m related to John Booth?-the man who killed Abraham Lincoln! ….Down with all the German scums!”

It was immediately apparent to me that Billy grossly lacked social skills, having no idea how to appropriately interact with others. I was later told by the “general education” teachers that Billy created his own problems, and the only way he could interact with his peers is to insult them. They insisted that he not speak to any other children until he learned how. So, Billy and I spent the entire day together, which became weeks, and then months. In the beginning of my employment I was given very little guidance, support, or instruction. I was given a stack of textbooks, lesson plans, and a new pile of worksheets each week. We rarely made it through the first worksheet. Most of the time it ended up crumbled and thrown to the corner in a rage, which was usually followed by throwing textbooks at me and flipping either my desk or his and sometimes both.

As I began to do my own research on where to begin trying to reach children with emotional/behavioral disorders, I was introduced to the Billy’s many different diagnoses. While I was working with Billy his current diagnoses were: ADHD, Bi Polar, and ODD. His mother also indicated that he has a malformed hippocampus which causes a cognitive delay, but this wasn’t replicated in his records. I also noticed that Billy had a slight tremor in his hands. It was especially apparent when he would hand me a paper or when he was writing. I eventually was made aware that it could be a result of the pharmacist cabinet he digests daily: Lithium three times a day, Carbotrol four times a day, Nexium once, Adderall three times a day, and Zyprexa twice a day.

The Art of Listening:

“When we listen to people there is an alternating current, and this recharges us so that we never get tired of each other.” - Brenda Ueland

Through a painstaking process, I began to realize that a major reason for my unsuccessful teaching in Ohio was largely due to my unwillingness to get to know my students and to allow them to get to know me. Stuck in a secluded room by ourselves, Billy and I had no choice. We were destined to understand each other and to learn from one another. When I had to restrain him from self mutilating himself, I told him I was his friend over and over, and that I understood his frustrations. He blamed me for not letting him go to lunch or recess with other students, but I couldn’t stand to tell him that I had been given orders to not take Billy outside while other students were at recess. It brought tears to my eyes as I watched him converse with himself at lunch because he wasn’t allowed to talk to other students, and most of the time he was plain sick of talking to me. During his rages he stabbed me with scissors, spat in my face, and threw everything in the room at me that he could possibly find. There were many, many days I didn’t want to come back. Yet everyday, I could see the surprise on his face when I was sitting at my desk when he entered the classroom and shut the door behind him. With Billy, something in my mind clicked. I began to see the exceptionalities, gifts, and brilliance that everyone he had ever come in contact with had overlooked, including his mother and father. And I also began to see an exaggerated reflection of myself.

3-12-03 I feel as if I’m looking through a magnifying glass… All of my little daily problems (medically, emotionally, socially) are all magnified right in front of my face…except I have been given more tools and dealt a luckier hand to deal with them… here is a fifth grader who has been beaten up by life and underneath this rough exterior lies a kindness, a sharp wit, a brilliant mind, an individual who could someday contribute to the good of our society – if only there was someone who believed in him.

Not only was I interested in Billy’s social struggle and emotional challenges, but I was fascinated with his creativity and lack of inhibition. His stream-of-consciousness conversational style reminded me of some of my favorite eccentric artists and writers. I decided to take a holistic, wellness-based approach that focused on Billy’s strengths and suggested his negative behavior was a conditioned response to a negatively perceived environment. I was immediately reminded of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and Mark Twain’s famous quote: “I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.” I knew if I was going to reach him, I would have to remove him mentally and emotionally from the nightmare, and that I would have to remind myself over and over of the theory of multiple intelligences: everyone has their own way of learning. The odds were stacked against us: we were placed in a self-contained room, given strict orders to not interact with any other students, and to begin working towards the goal of earning the privilege of returning back to the other rooms.

Modifications: Tossing Traditional Education out the Window

Unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven - Jesus Christ

After a relatively short period of time, I decided that for Billy worksheets were completely counter productive. I discovered that Billy and I had common interests: he had a passion for history, loved technology, and considered himself a blossoming painter that would someday be appreciated. I decided it was my job to provide a pathway for Billy to self actualize these dreams.

During my interactions with Billy I also experienced a transformation of sorts. I began to open up to him and others, a tremendously liberating feeling. I rediscovered the value of play, and together we created our own world: what we considered a positive learning environment. At recess we were pirates in the Caribbean looking for Aztec gold, Navajo Indians in search of the White Buffalo, and British archaeologists searching the tombs of ancient Egypt for the Holy Grail.

Interestingly enough, Billy was always searching for the truth, for the answer. I tried to teach him to always set his teepee up each morning facing the East, each day a new day, and a chance to learn from our mistakes. There were many, many mistakes. Back in the classroom, we researched different cultures, to add realistic content to our role playing. For math we created imaginary businesses and used Monopoly money to purchase high tech computer equipment, fishing supplies, and parts for our Mars roaming vehicles. We used a bartering system to establish a democratic way of sharing legos and with them re-created the great civilizations of Mesopotamia, Teknochtitlan ad Chaco Canyon. We also used a toned down version of Lego Design to learn computer aided design. To foster critical thinking skills, we played chess twice a day and discussed current events. Since Billy despised his textbooks, all of our reading was done on the Internet. In our creative studio, we developed an alias for our collaborated art and writings: Shadow Bates. I can still hear him shouting, “Another masterpiece by the great modern artist: Shadow Bates,” as he smeared acrylic paint all over his arms and face. This was my discovery of the true genius that others had overlooked.

One day I had an idea. I reviewed it in my head over and over again, and made a decision that since I was being given very little support and total freedom in my methods of teaching, why not push the limits and see what happens? I noticed that while we had a few setbacks, but I felt we were making great progress. We had gone from shutting completely down to actually learning. Billy was very interested in the fantasy world he had created. It was clearly a defense mechanism from being shut out for being so glaringly different. So I decided that Shadow Bates would do a series of writings. Billy would say whatever came off the top of his head and then I would process it and put it on the board. I hoped to accomplish two goals: foster critical thinking and get to know each other better. We had recently been discussing the War in Iraq, a topic in which Billy was fanatically interested. I spent hours discussing various world wars and their historical significance, again pushing the limits of my own knowledge to keep up with Billy’s erratic curiosity. I reminded Billy of an example of alliteration, I had given him a couple days before and in response, he spouted: When Wicked Winds Weather, which resulted in a bizarre collaboration of our individual expressions:

When Wicked Winds Weather The fortress built around the persona, Eroded Freedoms, Intuitions thought twice, Hesitated streams of consciousness, Interrupted to begin, Until the withering walls can be reconstructed again and again, The eventual blueprint reveals the multi-faced gem. But, Oh, what a struggle! A many-round battle! Repairing of the Ladder, Climbing the ridge with backward feet. But doesn’t the view justify lost breaths? One could only wonder how there’s any strength left. Time is compressing, Will you stare straight into a mirror of regret?

When Wicked Winds Weather the minds of great thinkers who have traded in cool grass blades for slabs of cold concrete between their toes, Will you be willing to face the critics alone?

Repairing Self Concept:

“We are all apt to believe what the world believes about us.” – Mary Ann Evans

Towards the end of the year, I began to advocate for Billy. I found myself sitting in the principal’s office, asking for permission to take Billy to lunch with a few other students (some of the other children diagnosed with EBD.) We were given a few opportunities, but each episode ended in another setback and I began to wonder if I was truly helping Billy or setting him up for failure.

4-11-03 Today in the cafeteria, I decided to let Billy without permission sit with a few fourth graders. I watched from afar, and for a moment I thought he was engaging in appropriate conversation. He was talking and the others were laughing. I tried to ignore the glances from the other teachers, confident I would prove them wrong. I was called into the administrations offices to discuss a number of emails sent by other teachers concerned that their students were exposed to the sexually explicit jokes Billy was telling to the fourth graders…I’m deeply concerned for Billy, I feel that this isn’t the right placement for Billy. We are either part of the problem or part of the solution. By locking him away in this room, we are starving him of what he needs most: social interaction. In order for Billy to learn appropriate social skills we have to provide an environment where he can slowly make progress.

I now work with four other children diagnosed as EBD, and with a number of other students with various learning diasabilities as a teacher at a middle school. The children I currently work with are equally as brilliant as Billy, and the similarities in their motivations, learning styles, and behaviors are strikingly unmistakable. I definitely feel there is a pattern of neglect and social ostracization that results in the inappropriate behaviors. My experiences have led me to begin implementing music therapies, self evaluation of both student’s and teacher’s video-taped behavior, and to actively become a part of these students’ extracurricular lives. I am torn to leave but I also look forward to the new encounters and experiences. The fascinating world of the EBD classroom can be extremely challenging but if you open your mind, dig deep down inside, you can find treasures far more special than Aztec gold, the Holy Grail, or the White Buffalo, you can find the unchartered territory of a unique and misunderstood mind. I owe my introduction to this world to one of my greatest teachers, Billy Whitbeck.

When Wicked Winds Weather The fortress built around the persona, Eroded Freedoms, Intuitions thought twice, Hesitated streams of consciousness, Interrupted to begin, Until the withering walls can be reconstructed again and again, The eventual blueprint reveals the multi-faced gem. But, Oh, what a struggle! A many-round battle! Repairing of the Ladder, Climbing the ridge with backward feet. But doesn’t the view justify lost breaths? One could only wonder how there’s any strength left. Time is compressing, Will you stare straight into a mirror of regret?

When Wicked Winds are funneled into man-made contraptions, If systems are mimicked to capture the essence – A once destructive erosion of virtues and freedoms Could be redirected to define the Age.

Is it not ironic that we have squandered all notions of a matriarchal existence at a time when our Mother’s milks are running low? And true to the fervors of young, red-blooded patriarchs, we kill over spilled milk. A feasible feast when a Giant amongst a miniscule Pharisee. Making mincemeat of evil and spoon-feeding it as ice cream through glowing TV’s. Please! As so many before us, few stand out to ponder, the robust behavior of those petite thinkers, Who pass off documentation from a guilty bystander as a meaningless waste of long fought for freedoms. But little forgotten, their hateful maneuvers ensure their future impotence….just when it’s needed in post-Millennial chaos. Erasing all misuses that have crept into the natural language, systems will survive with or without compromise, but still pose the question:

When Wicked Winds Weather the minds of great thinkers who have traded in cool grass blades for slabs of cold concrete between their toes, Will you be willing to face the critics alone?

© 2003 J.D. Cravens

A whole lotta searchin’ and a little bit of lookin’ In the barrooms, poolhalls, churches and schools, Aint’ never found no woman who could keep my attention, That could make me crazy – make me act like a fool. I’m in love with livin’, and I aint’ afraid of nothing, I keep on movin’ so life don’t get slow. This game seems tricky and I might be a bit picky, But when I finally meet her Ill sure as hell know.

And then you look down deep in my eyes, and you smile at me that way. All I can do is look back in your eyes, Push your hair behind your ears, You give me goosebumps when you smile.

Now I’m reflecting, on that little bit of lookin’, But I don’t remember some of the places I’ve been, If I aint been learnin from all the decisions Ive been makin’, It’s time I learned to live with who I am. Now I’m relivin’ all those good times I was havin’, And all the lessons I learned from the people on the road. I might be crazy, a little bit lazy, I’m finally admittin’ to myself I’m sick of being alone.

Bridge: I used to keep on running, I’d run and run until I wore holes right through my shoes. Yeah I used to keep on running, Until I met you, that was all I knew.

I’m hitchin’ a ride all the way to Texas, Dusk turns to night, I’m hopin’ my thumb will stop a ride. If this was the first time, I might be surprised, Now I know the difference between yall’s life and mine, I keep telling myself this is the way its supposed to be, The challenge of the new road is my destiny, And the only thought that kills the pain and gets me through the night, Is the thought of yall’ keepin’ those dreams insight. With the foothills in the rearview, and Raton around the bend, I cant help but to think this might be the end. Trying to keep my weary mind off those high lonesome sounds, Every mans soul is meant to shine, you’ll never force it down, The open roads a hollerin’ my name in the still of the night, There aint’ nothing like that humm -it just sounds so right, I’m hitchin’ a ride all the way back to Texas.

In a baby blue trailer in East Texas pines, Can’t remember the bad, can’t forget the good times, Aint’ no hot water, aint’ no TV, Were lovin’ life in the Manatee.

Breakfast at noon and lunch at three, And the cheapest damn beer we ever did drink, Common folk they just can’t see, How were lovin’ life in the Manatee.

And the more we sing, and the more we play, The more we realize it aint’ about the race, One life to live in this here place, We might as well have a smilin’ face.

A case of Lone Star and some rice and beans, Bellys a bulgin’, we got enough eat. Aint no hot water, aint no TV, Were lovin’ life in the Manatee.

The chickens are smellin, and the neighbors are a yellin’, Where the dogs are? There aint no tellin’, Common folk, they just can’t see How were lovin’ life in the Manatee.

And the more we sing, and the more we play, The more we realize it aint about the race. One life to live in this here place, We might as well have a smilin’ face.

Aint no hot water, aint no TV, Were lovin’ life in the Manatee.

Common folk they just cant see, How we’re lovin’ life in the Manatee.

…lyrics were adapted from the poem When Wicked Winds Weather

When your mad about the system Apathy is your biggest mistake When your mad about the system You can turn that rage into change

Its time that we all conquered our fears

When the political minds are erasing The truth in front of all of our eyes In years to come we will be facing The harsh realities without the lies and disguise

Its time that we all conquered our fears

Fortress built around a persona, Eroded Freedoms, Intuitions thought twice, Hesitated streams of consciousness, Interrupted to begin, again and again

Its time that we all conquered our fears

Is it not ironic that we‘ve squandered Any notions of a matriarchy When our Mother’s milks are running low Yes, our Mother’s milks are running low

Were making mincemeat of evil Spoon-feeding the ice cream through glowing TV’s A feasible feast when a Giant Amongst a miniscule Pharisee.

I have struggled with blogging long enough. Creating consistent, meaningful content can be a great challenge. For me it isn’t the actual content. I have plenty of ideas, plenty of inspiration. For me, it is the absence of a quick, organized delivery. In an effort to streamline my delivery process, I have created an 11-step guide to aid in getting my ideas from my head and onto my blog.

For those that do create content often on their website, consider this an opportunity for improvement, or to participate in a conversation. For me, I hope this guide will result in the continued evolution of the effectiveness and efficiency of my own writing. I’d like to share:

Steps 1-5 : Get into the mindset for writing the post. Steps 6-11: Guide the Writing Process

1. Know your audience! Duh! But… we often forget, or get caught up in the ego driven importance of our great ideas; We forget to consider whether or not our audience cares.

An interesting byproduct of the blogging phenomenon is the many different flavors of blogs. Search your sector and discover how others are using blogging technologies, but in your evaluation of your colleagues and competitors blogs, don’t lose your desire to innovate and be different:

If you are a realtor, search for effective real estate blogging:

If you’re running for political office, take a look at Howard Dean’s http://www.blogforamerica.com/ – whether you agree with his political stance or not, there is a lot to be learned from his progressive use of blogging in the campaigning process.

If you are a doctor – check out: Joseph Mercola, medical director of a 50-employee practice in Schaumburg, IL: http://www.mercola.com/blog

If you’re an educator search edublogging and take look at David Warlick.

If you are a musician or artist, more often than not the quirkier the better…just be yourself. People love authenticity…more on that later.

1. Think bell curve. Shoot for the largest sector of your potential readers. There will always be those that don’t get it, or have heard everything you have to say before. Don’t concern yourself with the outer fringes of the bell curve.

2. Organize and Dedicate the time to do it right. Find or create a guide such as this one that suits your individual writing style. Or begin here, and adapt this guide to meet your needs. Make the commitment to follow your guide, and develop a unique, personal style.

3. Think Title Summary. Make your title a summary of the content in the blogpost. This will not only catch the attention of readers and help search engines find your content, but also increase your chances of readers sticking around. In other words, your readers will know what they are getting into ahead of time.

4. Quality and Authenticity: Don’t get caught up in making your posts perfect. There is a fine line between attention to quality and obsession over perfection. I once heard Robert Earl Keen Jr. say something along the lines of…. “just kick out albums – don’t put too much thought into it or the collection of songs will never be finished.” …and to take it even further…an unrefined style can enhance your attractiveness. Many people have grown weary and untrusting of refined, corporate-style messages and products. They are searching frantically for authenticity. To continue this music industry example – think Jackson Browne vs. Milly Vanilly.

5. Short but Sweet: Make your post as long as it needs to be. Be short and to the point, but make your content rich. How do you make a blogpost content rich?

-Aggregate content -Create lists -Create hyperlinks to other bloggers that add something extra to your content.

For example: Here is other content related this topic:

Top 7 tips to write an effective business blog 10 Tips for Becoming a Great Corporate Blogger 6 Time Management Tips for Bloggers

This could be another bullet, but I felt it important to say…..Never, ever be afraid to give another blogger credit, or point someone to someone else’s blog (including your competitors). It’s about sharing information, not hoarding it or attempting to be the center of the blogosphere. That mentality is so 20th Century.

This type of content creation makes your readers lives easier and saves them time. If you do that often enough, they will come back for more. I know I do.

1. Provoke Thought: Provide thought provoking content: Make your readers think. You won’t reach them all. (Take this post for instance, there will be people that have heard it all before.)

2. Educate: Use common everyday language, but don’t talk down to your readers. Create learning opportunities. So if you are going to use a word like hyperpedagogy, give your readers a hyperlink. In doing so, you make your readers smarter. Everyone likes to get smarter.

3. Use Beauty, Creativity, and Humor: Borrow from poetry, prose, and other more elegant forms of writing. Separate yourself by making it interestingly interesting: use metaphors, use anecdotes, use alliteration. For example I am writing a piece on the virtual marketplace entitled ‘Stopping to Smell the Synthetic Roses’.

By doing so, we transform an industrial medium such as black and white text in a browser to a medium that reminds our readers of time when words were written with a pen. We fill the weblog with life; We provide doses of humanity that our readers can relate to, and that many yearn for.

This idea of creativity and humor is genre, industry, topic specific. A blog that relates to Xtreme Sports and Ska/Punk/Rap Fusion might want to incorporate a heavy dose of lyrical creativity, yet shy from away from the romantic, transcendental humanity hoopla. Again, just know your audience.

**also keep in mind …the title of the previously mentioned blog post might be titled along the lines of ‘An Argument for Exploring the Virtual Marketplace: Stopping to Smell the Synthetic Roses.’ Don’t forget your friendly search engines, take your title and optimize it.

1. Provide More than Value: Provide more than value for your reader; Ambitiously aspire to provide more than is expected in every post. Under-Promise and Over-Deliver.

2. Create a conversation. Think Cluetrain. Always end with a statement encouraging feedback such as this….

If anyone has anything to add – I’d love to hear from you