It does not seem to be a question of false modesty, or a lack of ideas, or some
weird self-sabotaging notion of decorum, but the affliction is widespread
enough to be noticeable.
It took me days to even get to this paragraph, and believe me, not for want of
trying. Or ego.
Personally, I like to think that I can convince pretty much anyone of anything,
in whichever format seems appropriate. That’s usually writing, something I do with some style, insight and an ability to
organize woefully absent from one of the messier desks anyone will ever lay
eyes on. My boyfriend, long-suffering soul that he is, would probably mention the
cataclysm that is my sock drawer while we’re on the subject.
Words, concepts and designs are my friends, socks, the mortal enemy.
I flatter myself that I compensate for the sock-loathing with creativity, humor
and focus. I like things simple, interesting and intuitive. Simple doesn’t mean dumb, by the way; it means oh-yeah-I-get-that. Steve Jobs was right when
he said that simple is harder than complicated. Or Leo Burnett: “Make it simple. Make it memorable. Make it inviting to look at. Make it fun to
read.”
They’re both right. Now, I happen to do a number of things that, in sum, could make
this site either dreary with detail or a confusing hail of bullet points. The
copywriter in me wants a compelling story, the designer something easy on the
eyes, the new media hot shot an opportunity to brag about that insane Klout
score (it’s 64). Bragging accomplished.
So I followed Steve and Leo’s advice and made it simple. The rest, as they say, is up to you.