If I Was… Going to BlogHer ’10
…oh wait, I am going to BlogHer10. But still.
I attended the very first BlogHer in Silicon Valley. I have to say, it wasn’t earth shattering for me. I never considered myself a pro blogger or even an aspiring pro blogger. I have been a journalist. I consider myself one of the tribe. Attending the first BlogHer didn’t do it for me. I was a bit annoyed at all the discussion of blogging for money, blogging for this, blogging for that. And why the focus on women? Weren’t journalists unbiased? Weren’t we held to the high code of honor to never entertain advertorial? It seemed, to me, at least, that BlogHer was one big amateur fest of women that wanted to be paid for their writing. What was the big deal? I thought BlogHer wouldn’t make it to year two. Holy hell, did I miss that one.
In 2008, with a ticket in-hand, I blew off BlogHer in San Francisco in lieu of taking my kids to Pier 39 and dinking around the City. I guess I *still* didn’t drink the kool-aid. BlogHer just seems like so.much.work. It also seems like a sorority gone wrong. Alpha Delta Ohmyfuckinggodstoppitchingme. But again, I was wrong. I had clients that did great business at BlogHer, business that moved the needle in their communications with bloggers.
On Wednesday I leave for BlogHer 2010. This time, I get it. I am at BlogHer to see my people. Some of them are indeed journalists and many I have come to know are not. In fact, many are people that I have grown to respect, admire and some times, get star-struck by. And those craft bloggers that I endlessly made fun of? Those are the ones that are at the core of some of the greatest work in the blogging industry who I am constantly learning from. This year, I am going to BlogHer to celebrate simply being a woman in a cutting-edge industry. I am going to have a cocktail. I am going to support my dear friend in her new book club venture, From Left 2 Write. I’m there for my new project with The SJFive, a kids geocaching adventure coming this fall. And then there is the marketing Me part. The I’m-A-Startup-Advisor-for-Women-Yes-We-Should-Talk-Here’s-My-Card part. That’s my least favorite part. I’m much better at marketing you than marketing me.
On that note, here’s my advice for those going to BlogHer ’10:
1. Without exception, be you. At the end of the day (and beginning, middle and end), being yourself is the very best marketing tool you have. This doesn’t mean dress like you’re homeless or neglect to brush your hair. It just means, be you. If a vendor doesn’t feel like the right match for you, then smile and leave. If a breakout session doesn’t offer what you are needing or how you want to spend your time, just leave. It’s not worth it to stick around half-assed with people, parties or conference sessions that don’t make you feel like you are getting your money’s worth.
2. Take a break. Now everyone talks about how crazy the conference is (and it is); how many parties they are attending (trust me, the free drinks aren’t always worth it); the sponsor events you must go to in order to maximize your time (ever heard of email?). The truth is, this stuff is truly overwhelming, overstimulating and over the top. Taking a break doesn’t mean meeting someone for coffee or even taking a yoga class. Taking a break means going to your room and putting your feet up without your laptop. It means putting on your headphones and stomping down the NYC streets smelling the City and people watching.
3. Live in the Moment. I know that you are wondering which event you are missing, where you should be and what you should be wearing. But being present and enjoying the process is something that I have worked toward for a long time. I’m not great at it at all. I suck. I’m always looking to where I should be, what’s next. I’m slowly learning to live more in the moment. Its my hope and advice to realize how damn lucky we are to be in the midst of great women doing great things and do my best to enjoy ever second I have to learn from them.
4. Plan. A Bit. I’m going to be going mostly under the radar this year. I’ll be going to a couple of parties, but not a ton. I’ll be going to some of the conference elements, but not all. I’ll be meeting up with friends but I also plan to be alone. My plan this year is to (a) not have a hangover (b) look my best (c) exercise Friday, Saturday and Sunday including the BlogHer 5k and an @EatBlogRun and @runteamsparkle reunion. (d) listen to some great speakers work their magic and (e). Bring something home to my children that’s one step above the mad dash at Barak Obama bobble heads at the sundry shop at the airport 20 minutes before boarding.
5. Forget the Popularity Contest. It’s already happening, just as it does every year. Is @punditmom going to be at this-and-that? Who will reign now that @queenofspain is not attending? What will @jessicagottlieb say/do/hang out with? Who is going to be at the cool parties? Who is having a private dinner with the @chevymissions team. Should I be jealous? How do I get in? Do they know I’m famous on Twitter?! Forget it. Seriously, forget it. When women get together — holy crap over 4,000 including sponsors — both magic and shit happen. Women are, well, women. For me it’s important to remember that it better be damn important to be 3,000 miles from my children and spouse for four days and it ain’t to worry about this stuff. Do your own thing, refer to #1 above and you’ll be fine.
My final goal for next week is to Learn. One of my favorite life lessons has been that I am not as smart as I think I am. Or that I am, but there are many that are smarter and smarter in different ways than I am. I don’t plan to market myself at BlogHer. I know that’s what’s done and I know it’s a game you have to play, but it’s just not why I am there. I’m there to learn from the best in the business. And for that alone, I can’t wait.
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Stop and Go
All hell has been breaking loose for a few months now. As most of you know from my posts at SV Moms, I’m pretty open about most of my life and it’s awesomeness and even crappiness, at times, but not this. This is just personal and hard.
Every morning for four months, I wake up wondering how, and if, my mom will wake up today. My mom is really fucking sick. And, truth be told, she really is the only thing that matters to me minute-to-minute right now. My life is on automatic-pilot. I get done what I have to get done and go where I should and do what I should at the bare minimum I can do it. Everything is stopped.
My mom doesn’t have a disease you’ve ever heard of and there aren’t really any cool races you can do to donate money for a cure. There’s not a t-shirt or a fund, there isn’t a sparkly skirt to wear in her honor. It’s not cancer where everyone knows someone who has it. It’s a lonely, mean, shithouse disease called Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating PolyNeuropathy, an unpredictable disease that attacks the body at-will. One day you might walk, the next, you are bound to a wheelchair. For hell’s sake, she was *just* dancing at my brother’s wedding six months ago.
Everything in our world has come to a stopping point. That is, until last weekend.
Last weekend I joined a group of 12 mom bloggers for a 200-mile run from Napa Valley to Santa Cruz. We’re not talking diapers-and-cheerios-type moms, we’re talking serious female writers who are on the forefront of a leading influential industry. As exciting as the run sounded, by the time I made it to the team dinner, I was convinced that I’d made a huge mistake. I truly didn’t feel it was wise to leave my family. It’s just not a good time.
We left for Napa in the wee hours of the morning, and by the time @la_gringa set off for the first leg of our two-day journey, I understood that it wasn’t only a good time to be doing this race, it was The Time to be doing this race. It hit me that the Universe had given me these specific women, during this specific weekend, for a specific reason: they were here to let me GO.
And Go, I did. I ran four legs totalling 17.2 miles in 30-something hours at a pace of about 9:50. Every time I’d hop back in the van, I wanted to hug every single team member. They didn’t know the immense gifts they were giving me by the moment. They teased me about my runner’s high — every tree, person, view from the third row of the GMC van was more beautiful than the next. But, it wasn’t the endorphins at all, it was the joy of being in-motion. I’ve done a lot of racing in my time, every po-dunk 5k, four marathons, a haphazard 31-miler and dozens of 1/2 marathons. Each race comes with something special, but this one was different, it wasn’t a race I ran, instead, it was a freedom to run when my mom cannot walk. A freedom to GO when my whole world is STOPPED.
I’ve been home from the race for two days. Mom was admitted to the hospital this morning. She’s not well. It’s not good. As I pack up to head over to the hospital for the umpteenth time this afternoon, I take with me new gifts of GO. From my Heather, the ability to laugh through this; from Marie the excitement of working things out; from Christine the ability to steadily put one foot in front of the other to get to tomorrow; from Linsey the wisdom to walk, not run the toughest of hills; from Jane the subtle ability to stay-the-course even on the windy road; from Van 2, that lying under the stars can inspire; and from my dear @la_gringa the reminder to put my shoulders back (or in, as the case might be) and keep GOing.
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Side Gigs
