New Day Business Services

07/28/2023

"If you don’t master AI, everyone you love will suffer.
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​The cold dead remains of your business and your entire life will be there staring at you.
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​Their frigid, lifeless eyes will look at you…wondering why you didn’t adapt and keep up.
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​No one will know you, and you’ll be forced to survive off the scraps of those brave enough to embrace the revolution."
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​I stood up... satisfied that I'd made my point clear to the group...
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​Then...
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​“Hey Dad…What’s AI?”
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​Well... on with dinner.

07/14/2023

A healthy article today

Experts are literally everywhere. Wriggling like a mass of worms swirling and fighting to reach the top of the can.

07/12/2023

A little bit about copy today.

I recently saw a post about the different “types” of copy. And how you must tailor your copy for different media.

06/19/2023

I’m trapped in a hole.

There is little light provided by the blue dot high above me.

Roots reach out from the mud-lined sides of my prison.

Some of them I can see, others…

Twisted, gnarled hands of the Earth reach out from nowhere. Snagging my clothes and tripping my feet.

I decide to climb… the yelling hasn’t worked, and my throat burns from the effort.
My lungs struggle with the moist, earthen air.

Every breath is a rebellion against the worst.

Quitting time is not yet…

The words give up are not in my vocabulary.

My right-hand smashes into the earthen wall.

I’m making a way.

My left hand reaches up, seizes a handful of mud, and I pull. Pieces of soil fall into my eyes and my gaping mouth.

I gasp and cough, I wretch so hard I almost let go… my throat blazes anew.

In the darkened chamber, I reach out and up, gripping the crooked and wicked limbs of the roots… fingers of hope and freedom.

Please hold…

One above the other… my bare toes digging and clawing at the wall.

Up and up.

The blue dot above me grows,

I see clouds, and the first whisps of fresh air enter my mud-lined nostrils. There is a renewed hope and a vigor in me… I’m nearly there.

The end is in sight.

Grabbing at these strong roots and clawing at the mud takes it all from me, but there is hope. The fresh air, freedom, another shot at life.

As I fall to the bottom, there is just enough light to see the broken root as it moves away from me. Hope is flying away as I descend, and it’s done in the blink of an eye.

The whisper of fresh air that filled me with joy is knocked from my body.

The root that is far above me – that offered hope – is well out of sight.

Half-buried on the bottom, my eyes slowly open.

No… death has not come yet.

Do I wait?

Do I let it gather my tattered remains without a fight?

Just go with it.

I debate with my soul. I wrestle with mortality and that suffering is the path.

When is it enough… when is it noble to stop.

I stare at the small blue dot above me… it’s farther away now than ever. My body is beaten and broken in ways that may never heal.

The clean air beckons me…

So does the dirt.

The dirt wraps and comforts me. It’s here, it’s now…

Rest easy.

06/09/2023

If you smile at the right time,

To the right person, you may get a reaction.

Maybe that’s a smile back or a nod… some sort of acknowledgment.

Some sign that they see you and know of your existence.

That’s how it used to work, anyways.

Our crush would be sitting across the room, and we would give a smile, hoping for some return.

At moments we would “accidentally” bump into them on our way out of the classroom or in the hallway. Pretending to be clumsy or distracted.

Hoping for a physical moment, our arms would brush against one another, and perhaps our eyes would lock – even if just for a second.

And we would be Yearning for it to morph into something more… maybe we could hold hands on the playground. They might sit with you at lunch and share your carrot sticks.

At the end of the day - if things got serious – there could be an embrace or a peck on the cheek. And you would float home in a tizzy… head swimming with emotions you couldn’t decipher.

Your hand would still be warm where it was held, and hours after the fact, you’d feel the moisture on your cheek from a well-placed smooch.

And all of this was divine.

It seemed surreal.

As though it was happening to someone else and you were a spectator.

Sometimes you would float above yourself, not believing that this moment had come, knowing you were smitten, without knowing the word.

Whether you deserved happiness or joy like this never entered your mind, there was no doubt about the sincerity of the feelings.

It didn’t matter if it lasted a day, a week, or ten minutes.

It was tangible, visceral, and quantifiable.

You could measure your emotions by the increase in your heart rate and the spring in your step.

The trumpets of the heavens rang in your ear, and the soft poems of love caressed you to sleep.

Was there anything better than that?

Were you better off knowing directly who liked you?

It was easy to tell you were liked because real people talked to you. Came over to visit and called you on your home phone.

They sat with you at lunch and played with you at recess.

You didn’t battle for attention, it was just there, or it wasn’t. You knew straight away who was in your tribe and who wasn’t.

Now there is instant access to the entire world. The whole world can love you.

At least that’s what most people are vying for. The impressions are what matter.

It’s all that matters.

Hollow digital numbers that are a shell of actual interaction. Just stay in tonight and perform a death scroll for three hours.

“My god, man… look at those likes… look at the love.”

You say to the dog,

Or the cat.

Maybe you say it to the Van Gough print in your hallway.

Perhaps it’s okay. Indeed those gestures of affection will snuggle up to you and share your carrot sticks at lunch.

Maybe hours after the fact, you will still feel the warm glow of the little blue thumb in your eyeballs as you close your eyes at night and dream of just one more like.

One more hollow gesture of human connection to replace what we used to have.

When the night is the darkest, and you are alone… reach up and feel for the moisture on your cheek. The last remnants of a well-placed smooch that happened a lifetime ago.

The last vestige of human compassion, natural touch, and a real connection.

06/07/2023

Something that used to be.

06/06/2023

The day is perfect.

The bright sun and yesterday’s early summer rain have caused the grass and leaves to radiate with thirty shades of green.

The flowers have their heads held high.

Purples, blues, reds, and the bright yellow of the state flower splash color throughout the mixed-green backdrop - showing those that care to look - what natural beauty is.

It’s a wonderous palette in the middle of an urban area constructed of uninteresting asphalt and steel.

Bear is trotting along with his “happy prance.”

A high-stepping doggo walk - with his tail curled in a U behind him - a person would be forgiven for thinking this dog is royalty.

Or at least he believes so.

He only trots like this when we are at the park. It’s easy to tell this pup is content and well cared for… he is the epitome of discipline and training…

And then…

He sees a squirrel, and Happy Pup tries to yank my arm from its resting place.

I hold.

I cast a glance making sure there are no citizens in view.

The fewer witnesses - the better.

Slowly I set the leash down – Bear is quivering – forming a perfect point with the body.

Nobody has taught him this. This unexplainable force of genetics was passed down over the ages.

His every muscle vibrates with anticipation, and his jaw chatters ever so slightly…

“GO”

He takes off like a black-haired rocket… back pumping - legs digging into the dirt…

The squirrel doesn’t have a chance… poor little red tree rodent…

Before I see it happen…

It’s in Bear’s mouth.

It’s his first catch after dozens upon dozens of attempts to outrun these crafty little suckers.

Bear is bounding, throwing his head about with visible exuberance. He’s prancing towards me with his prize.

And I realize I’m about to witness a murder right here in public.

I brace myself for the slaughter… red fur and blood strewn about the park… pieces of squirrel will fly in all directions…

Then…

YEEEEEEELP

The tree rat bites my noble warrior on the lip, and to yelp, my inexperienced pup has to open his mouth.

In a flash, his prize is up a tree.

High in its sanctuary, the lucky squirrel chatters down at Bear… taunting him to climb.

I don’t have the words to describe this poor canine’s look of bewilderment.

His face was hurt and shame… a lifetime of disappointment rolled into this moment.

He looks up the tree… then at me… and with a not-so-happy trot, he takes his place by my side.

Fortunately… unlike people… dogs don’t stay bitter and hurt for long.

The next day… with the sun shining bright… Bear Dog happy trots in the park… and sets himself up for his next disappointment.

06/04/2023

Throw away all distractions and face what eats you.

What haunts you?

What is your desire that you have yet to achieve?

Tackle it head-on and deal it a blow – develop a hunger for conquest.

Don’t regret anything as it flows from your mind to your fingers and into reality.

Let it out, the pain, the suffering, the dark of despair. Let it flow from you and pulverize it as though you’re the master of the cosmos.

At that moment, you may very well be.

Don’t take anyone’s advice or listen to the critics – most of them are nitwits and half-brained imbeciles that can’t tie their shoes—negative Nancys that will lay awake in their old age mumbling into the dark.

“If only.”

Don’t worry about what your friends or family say.

Pursue your great dream with an explosive drive that barrels down anyone like a hormone-fueled teen on a dark, rainy night.

Don’t underestimate the power of your emotions to transform your mind, body, and spirit. They are what you make of them.

And they are what make you.

Do you want to be happy?

Then start doing what makes you happy.

Build towards that, and don’t stop until you get there.

What’s that?

You’ve got bills to pay or kids to feed.

Yep, so does most of the world. However… in quiet corners of society, some pursue their dreams with fanatic lust.

They are up early, and they stay up late.

Wives, husbands, and significant others go to bed alone as the zealot pursues their goal. Will they hit the mark – the impossible shot – deemed unattainable?

Only time will tell.

And time is the hoary ole taskmaster of all.

You can’t dash to the shop and purchase more.

Use what you have and be sure - that whatever you did - you worked with unbridled zeal.

A gusto that made your peers stop and say, “What’s his problem?”

Don’t allow the gray fog of mediocrity to blanket you.

Rise above the noise and the wide-eyed zombie naysayers.

Live with a passion that rings for the ages.

This post is for those in the quiet corners.

06/02/2023

Sharpen your message.

Hone it like the edge of a fine blade.

And cut through the noise.

I took my boys, niece, and nephew to the pool yesterday. Since I’m personally not going to spend three hours in the water, I always bring a notepad and something to read.

So, I pulled this handy little book off my shelf while brainstorming a client’s next print ad (yes, print ads still make money).

It had been a few years or more since I’d even cracked this puppy open, but there is a nifty bit of marketing knowledge right at the beginning that many of us may forget.

“If you find yourself talking about what people should do, you are preaching, not marketing.”

This idea is often lost on many marketers and copywriters.

Building your message off your prospect’s current perceptions is far more cost-effective than trying to change people’s minds.

Find a way to reinforce something they already believe and tie that belief directly into buying your product or service.

If you have a business – and advertise regularly. This book is a handy little reference to spark some ideas and “get the juices flowing.”

Even though it doesn’t cover internet marketing (copyright 1976), the phrases and reasoning behind them are still sound and relevant.

And you can pick it up used for 5-10 bucks.

Consider this small investment if you can’t hire a professional to write your ads.

A great companion to this would be Victor Schwab’s “How to Write a Good Advertisement.”

If you read through these two books, you will have a solid foundation for writing your ads and marketing – whatever the format.

Should the task seem too daunting after reading and studying – shoot me a message, and perhaps I can help.

Have a great day, everyone.

06/01/2023

Do you want your writing to affect people?

Are you trying to achieve impact and influence?

Would you like to sway the reader to act and induce emotion?

Follow along, and I will relay an exercise that very few of those learning to write consider performing.

First, I would like to relay one of the most powerful sentences in the English language.

It may surprise you.

However, it’s been agreed upon by many of the top writers in the last century.

And… I concur.

Here it is

“Jesus wept.”

Two words.

Yet, in their context, these two words evoke a powerful visual.

The reason these two words elicit such a response is the word “wept”

It’s a power verb.

The writer could’ve used cried instead.

However, the word wept is a verb that - although not often used - is well known.

So, I’d like you to try this…

Dig through something you’ve written and find the verbs.

Then grab your thesaurus. Do you remember what that is?

I prefer my dog-eared, post-it note-filled copy.

Now, replace some of your standard verbs - that the masses read daily – with words that have more punch. Then read through and discover the difference it makes.

This will lengthen the editing process.

Yet, in our haste to churn out piece after piece, whether for an agency or to produce content for social media, strong writing often gets left on the side of the road.

Take a stab at creating something memorable.

Try to write the best piece you can every single time. A brilliant flash may not occur frequently, but lightning will strike more often if that’s your goal.

I’ll leave you with this quote from Alexander Pope-

“True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
“As those move easiest who have learned to dance.”