A few weeks ago, the New York Times released an article entitled Vaccines Need Effective Messengers. Here’s journalist Shira Ovide:
“Getting the science right is only one element of having coronavirus vaccines be successful. People must also trust them, and that requires an effective communications mobilization.”
The word to focus on in that paragraph is not “science,” “vaccine” or even “communications.”
“I have no training in epidemiology.
You should definitely not trust me.”
Pueyo echos the feeling…
The brain is designed to answer questions.
For most of the year, the question I asked was: “How could it get any worse??” I found answers to that. Then, I asked “what made this year good?” I also found answers to that.
My guess is that you could make a list just like this. You can steal some from my personal list of 50 things that improved my life in 2020.
After 18 months of watching off Best Picture-winning films, Kate and I have turn to a steady diet of Rom Coms this year. We even watched Emily in Paris…
Movie season is like Christmas in the Brison household.
Every year, we line up the best picture nominees, grab a pile of snacks, and sit down for waves of spine-tingling inspiration and gut-wrenching despair.
The Sound of Metal took both of those emotions to a new level. The story of a musician going deaf coupled with exquisite sound design made the movie hard to watch in the best possible way.
The story behind the story is even more fascinating.
Riz Ahmed’s — the film’s lead — wore custom inserts that emitted a constant high-frequency pitch. …
If aliens came to earth, what television show would you make them watch to learn about us?
You could show them The Bachelor, but then they’d be wondering why our mating rituals include presenting a plant. The Queen’s Gambit could make them believe that all drugs leave you seeing game pieces on the ceiling. Two episodes of Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist may have them on tenterhooks waiting for a spontaneous song and dance.
I’d show them Ted Lasso.
This choice has nothing to do with the actors, the concept, the sport, the characters, the cinematography, or the scenery. …
A persistent question of the writing process is this: How do you write a single good sentence?
Last week, I was struggling with that exact question while writing a piece about the transition to self-employment. I thought it might be helpful to show you my exact process for editing ONE SINGLE sentence.
Be warned, what you’re about to read is a live peek at a writer’s brain…
It is a dark and scary place.
I write this sentence:
I have taken upon myself the difficult task of convincing you of a wild idea — that writing well about what matters is more important and meaningful than writing lots about what is popular.
It’s a hard job.
Current common sense says the person who does the most wins. 3 Instagram posts. 10 stories. 12 Tweets. 6 LinkedIn Updates. 2 new blog posts. 1 YouTube video. According to certain gurus, though, this pace of content is supposed to occur daily. It’s supposed to be the “only way.”
I’ll admit that in 2012, you might have been able to get away…
In 1919, a man named Max Perkins received a letter from an author who hadn’t yet broken into the industry.
He glanced at the name: Scott Fitzgerald.
This was the third time Fitzgerald has placed his future career in the hands of Perkins. On previous attempts, Perkins and Fitzgerald were unanimously shut down by the publishing company. Despite these repeated failures, Fitzgerald had big dreams for this new book —The Education of a Personage. Very big dreams. He’d included a note alongside the manuscript that said, essentially, this:
“Hey Max. Could we publish this in a couple of months so…
What exactly can writers do that computers can’t?
Not long ago, this seemed like creative professionals would never have to deal with this question. Sure, those spreadsheet spinning suckers in accounting would be replaced, but a machine could never match the spark and spontaneity of writing, right?
The answer to that question has changed in recent years.
It got scary for us keyboard warriors when a technology called GPT-2 came along. After consuming the first line of 1984 or Pride and Prejudice, the machine spit out semi-nonsensical (but completely readable) paragraphs.