THE KID IN ME- BOOK ONE, A Childhood Autobiography by Peter Cluff

CHAPTER TWO- Meet the Parents

Peter’s parent’s marriage started off badly.

Within a week of Alberta Cole marrying Jim Cluff, the Canadian Army shipped him off to McGill University in Ottawa to await a posting overseas. He remained there for 3 months before they discharged him and shipped him back home to Woodstock, Ontario. His flat feet made it impossible for a man of his size to do the marching needed on the killing fields of Europe.

Jim was a tall handsome man, 6 foot two, and Alberta was a beautiful woman. But the discharge may have affected Jim more than anyone knew. For the rest of his life, he was occasionally silent and morose but regularly, his Irish temper flared up like an erupting volcano. Whenever Jim smiled, there was a touch of fear in his eyes. He was afraid that the thing that made him smile would come to a screeching demise at any second.

Early in their marriage, Jim and Alberta had 3 children between 1942 and 1945. James (Pat) was the oldest followed by Robert (Bud), then Peter.

When they brought Peter home from the Woodstock General Hospital following his birth on May 29, 1945, Bud told Alberta to take him back. Jim and Pat were silent.

Alberta first told Peter this story when he was four years old and many times after that. Bud always denied it vehemently. He was only 14 months old when Peter was born. He could not remember saying it and he certainly could not be held accountable for it. Alberta always took great pleasure in re-telling this tale over the years and the rest of the family wondered why. This made Peter grow closer to Bud and distanced him further from his mother.

Peter loved his Dad with all his heart and often felt pity for him because he could not afford any of the luxuries that Alberta wanted. Jim worked as an attendant in a mental hospital for 35 years without complaining about the job until he retired. Lord knows that he put up with some awful events at work but when he came home, it was usually worse.

Jim loved his job but he loved Alberta even more. Peter could see it in what Jim tried to do for her. Jim worked to get Alberta anything she wanted, including taking a second job as a gas-jockey at Stu McMillan’s Shell service station across the street from where they lived on Park Row. To do this, Jim had to work nights for 5 years straight at the hospital and then put in 5 hours at the gas station after grabbing a few hours sleep in the morning.

With three young energetic boys at home, sleep did not come easily for Jim. Most mornings when he got home from work at 7 AM, Alberta was waiting with a list of sins the boys had committed the night before. Her way of controlling them was to threaten “Just you wait until your Father gets home!”. After Alberta’s continuous demands that Jim do something, the brothers usually heard the words “Here we go again!” followed by Jim’s stomping up the stairs toward their bedroom.

The three brothers knew what was coming next. The yelling and the stomping were ample signals for Pat, Bud and Peter to grab magazines, books or extra clothes to hide beneath the bed covers as padding against the razor strap blows that would surely come next. Jim was fully aware of this ploy and many of his blows smacked against the thinly-padded books emitting just enough sound to satisfy Alberta that he was in fact hitting the boys. But, on more than one occasion, the boys did not move fast enough to protect themselves and walked hand-in-hand to school crying all the way.

It’s strange how that worked out. Peter loved his Dad even more, despite the beatings, and resented his mother’s pushing Jim to the brink of having to punish him and his brothers. They recognized early on that Alberta held the power and Jim was being used.

There was a good reason for Peter’s growing love for his Dad. Jim always made time to take the boys places like the circus, the ball field or the local Dairy Queen. He spent time with them playing catch in the yard or allowing them to help with yard work. He talked to his boys about interesting cases at the hospital and took them to see their grandfather in Seaforth.

The boys had a paper route that was handed down from one brother to the next. Jim was always there to help them deliver papers in the rain or just to show up at a subscriber’s home when they had difficulty collecting their paper money. He was big enough to qualify as “Gino the Kneecapper” but those that knew him saw only a big teddy bear.

When walking through crowds, Jim always hoisted little Peter up on his shoulders not only to give him a bird’s eye view but also to protect him from being trampled by the crowd.

Jim did boy things with the brothers and communicated with them about boy things.

Boys growing up in the 1940’s and 50’s were willing to forgive their fathers for disciplining them and even respected them more for having done it, as long as their Dad was involved in their lives.

Alberta was a different story altogether.

She became more and more self-absorbed, to the exclusion of her family. Her grocery list was different from the rest of the family- it included popular sweet things like the small individual boxes of Kellogg’s Corn Flakes and Raisin Bran and others that Peter could not remember. The boys had to cook Quaker Oats, Red River Cereal or Cream of Wheat for every breakfast. To keep them from being late for school, Alberta insisted that the porridge be cooked the night before. By morning, it had a thick disgusting frog-skin covering it.

Alberta’s best friend was also her pharmacist and he catered to her every whim and pain. Eventually, she changed doctors because she regularly disagreed with his diagnosis of her mostly imagined sicknesses.

Once, she went shopping with Peter at the Metropolitan 5 & 10 and forgot him. He was 3 ½ years old and walked 2 miles home that day, while Alberta took the bus.

She changed churches from a plain one in the working class area of town to a more upscale one in the heart of town.

She always wanted a fur coat and got one eventually even though she had nowhere to wear it, except to her upscale church.

She discovered charge accounts and credit cards and made Jim’s life hell trying to earn enough to pay the bills. All the while, she harped at him for spending $5 on cigarettes and gas for the car.

Alberta always seemed to be trying to get to the other side of the tracks.

Things came to a head in 1955 when Peter was 10 years old. Jim was extremely concerned about Alberta’s growing self-medicating and wide mood fluctuations. He called a family meeting with Ken Oates, the minister from the church. Ten minutes into the meeting, Alberta accused everyone of ganging up on her, stormed to her bedroom and later that day, she half-heartedly attempted suicide by consuming alcohol and pills. She was not successful.

The family was never the same after that day. By that time, Peter had a 3 year-old sister, Frances, and he spent a lot of his time caring for her. Alberta spent increasing amounts of time in bed and her duties fell to Peter and his brothers.

One day, Alberta decided she wanted to become a nurse. Peter and his brothers spent even more time doing cooking, laundry, ironing, cleaning, babysitting and other household duties while Alberta went to school to become a Registered Nursing Assistant. To her credit and their relief, she graduated and landed a job at the Woodstock General Hospital.

While that would normally be a good thing, it became readily apparent to the rest of the family that Alberta had only gotten better access to information to help her increase the length of her list of imagined illnesses. Her diseases seemed to be increasing in both frequency and seriousness. It didn’t take long for her to start taking lengthy absences from work. Since it was a unionized job, she was protected for a long time from having to account for her actions. With an older semi-retired doctor and a pharmacist in her pocket, she was in self-medication heaven.

The marriage got very rocky and the arguments grew louder and more frequent. Money or Bud always seemed to be the root of the problem. The high point happened one winter night, again in 1955. Peter remembers Alberta dressing up Frances in a blue snowsuit, with a white scarf around her face, standing in the living-room doorway threatening to leave Jim. Alberta was yelling, Jim was yelling and Frances was crying uncontrollably while clenching and unclenching her tiny hands in the air toward Peter. At just over a year old, she had no idea what was happening, except that it was loud and angry. Peter was 10 years old standing on the opposite side of the room pleading with his mom not to leave home. As usual, no one seemed to hear him.

Jim and Alberta did not realize the huge impact this scene had on Peter. He saw a mother who was prepared to walk out the door and leave him. He saw a father who was helpless and gave in to his wife- once again. While this situation blew over in a couple of days, Peter now understood what his mother had been saying for so many years- “I’m raising you to be independent.” So Peter decided not to depend on his mother for the rest of his life.

Three years later, Jim and Alberta had their last child, a daughter Ruthie. Peter could never understand how they conceived her. His parents hardly saw each other. They were like two ships passing in the night; Jim worked nights and Alberta worked days. Alberta had explained “the birds and the bees” in pretty graphic detail to Peter when he was just 7 years old, so he knew that his parents needed at least 20 minutes together in order to make a baby. Peter could not remember when they spent twenty minutes together in private.

As the marriage rocked on, Jim and Alberta grew into their fifties and were confronted by the needs of two teenage daughters. They were totally unprepared for this challenge and did not have the benefit of having the older boys at home to help. Pat joined the Army at 16 and Bud left home at 17 to stay with a friend’s family about a mile from the family home. This was a huge slap in the face for Alberta but Jim was just plain sad. Now there were only Peter and his sisters at home to distract Jim from Alberta’s demands.

Before he left home, Bud had already been at war with his mother for years. He was olive-skinned with black hair and deep brown eyes. Pat and Pete were relatively pale in comparison and had brown hair. Peter had blue eyes and Pat’s were light brown. There was a running family joke that Bud was the product of a tryst between Alberta and the milkman. Alberta called Bud the “Black Sheep of the Family” to anyone who would listen, even if he was standing there listening. He would rebel against everything that Alberta asked, even if it was reasonable.

When Bud left home, Peter was almost 16 and was left to handle everything to do with his sisters that Alberta wouldn’t and Jim couldn’t do.

Pave Over the Lines

A little over 5 years ago and the night before chairing a meeting to kick off an important project, I was listening to Don Jackson's radio program, Lovers & Other Strangers, on 98.1 CHFI.

He told a story that impressed me so much, I used it in the meeting the next day to impress on the programmers and managers present the importance of meeting customer needs and expectations.

We were starting to build a secure website that automobile dealers could use to manage their auto inventories and enter payment transactions. This system was going to replace a fully paper-based process where dealers had to hand-write 17 digit serial numbers on a form for every one of their payment transactions. These transactions were then keyed into the system, twice by Bank keytapers and the error rate was about 20%.

In designing the website, we didn't go out to see systems that had been built by other banks. Instead, we held sessions with our clients who told us exactly what they wanted and how they wanted to use it. After we came up with a prototype, again we took it out to our focus groups of users and they validated what we had designed. Of course, when they saw it and used it, they came back with many more improvements, which we were able to either build in or plan for the next release.

Here then is the story that inspired our systems development team...

A general contractor was taking a moment to view the entire layout of a cluster of office buildings that he was building in downtown Toronto. His perch was on the 25th floor of one of the unfinished buildings and his view was into the the central common area between the buildings. He was visualizing the complex as a finished structure and was planning the next important steps to be taken. The complex was about two months away from completion.

After a few minutes, he got on the 2-way radio and asked that the landscaping contractor join him on the 25th floor. When he arrived, the general contactor greeted him and asked him to look down on the common area and tell him how he planned to lay out the paved pathways that would connect the buildings.

The landscaping contractor launched into a detailed description of the standard methods they always used to determine the best routes for these pathways to be laid out based on surveys and specs from other complexes and research and opinion polls and a miriad of other resources he had at his disposal.

The general contractor stopped him in mid-sentence and said "Don't do any work, except to lay sod over the entire common area before the buildings open. Leave the pathways for exactly two months after the buildings are populated. Then join me again here in this office and I'll show you how the pathways will be laid out."

The landscaping contractor left the building muttering about the general contractor and his curious request, but he came back exactly two months after the buildings opened.

Back on the 25th floor, the general contractor asked him to look out the window on the common area and tell him what he saw. To his surprise, he saw perfect lines that connected all of the buildings, worn into the grass by workers in the buildings. Large round tramped down areas connected by lines corresponded with where office staff congegated to visit and meet others. There were even lines going out of the common area around each building and out onto the street.

The general contractor simply said "Now pave over the lines."

If you are building a product, service or system for customers, do not sit in your office and design what you think they want. Go to your customer's workplace, sit down with them and their users and start to make notes on a clean sheet of paper. The most important thing you can do is to listen to what your client wants. They know their business best and what will help them perform.

Bottom line...after 9 months development and testing, our system rolled out over 3 months to 100% of eligible dealers and received rave reviews from them. They knew we had transferred our work to them but the process was so easy they were willing to do the work. The system design also won a technical award. And the project came in on time and under budget. We had definitely paved over the lines.

THE KID IN ME- BOOK ONE

A Childhood Autobiography by Peter Cluff

CHAPTER ONE- Introduction

In looking back on his life, Peter realized that he has an exceptional memory.

Throughout his entire life, he always had difficulty remembering more than two items on his shopping trip to the local Mac’s Milk store, but Peter could remember vivid details from most of his childhood.

During his business life, Peter constantly scrawls notes to himself to not forget a meeting, a project step or a contact that he has made. His brain seems to have a finite capacity to retain certain details; any extras just fall out of his ear on the way to the next detail. But Peter can remember events, dates and people that he encountered from a very early age.

After 39 years of marriage, his wife Lucy has almost given up on Peter’s ability to remember what she said the day or even the minute before. She truly believes he is hard of hearing, or worse- that he has stopped listening to the things she tells him. You see, the “Hard-Assed Carpenter” loves to tell the truth.

But Peter remembers feelings he had long before it was fashionable for men or boys to be “in touch with their feelings”. He remembers feeling pity for pedophiles when they were simply “men who liked boys in that way”. He remembers how afraid he was that he would get a girl pregnant if he allowed the “necking” to go too far. And he remembers crying uncontrollably when his beautiful friend Patsy, a border collie, died after falling downstairs in a fit of scratching.

It is as if Peter the Child continually communicates with Peter the Adult.

His ability to remember events, people and feelings in his childhood make this book possible.

The Dead Guy #1

Perhaps this is the weirdest story I have to tell from my 40 + years working for a very large Canadian Bank. It is a very true story.

I was stationed in Brantford, Ontario in 1966-67. I held the lofty position of Second Assistant Accountant and had a young man named Robert Reynolds working for me as a Discount Clerk.

Robert was chunky and had what could only be described as a moon face usually with a great big toothy smile covering most of the lower half of his head. The picture that immediately comes to mind is the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland.

On the Friday before a long weekend, Bob (only I called him that) told me he was going back to Hensall, Ontario, a little town of 600 people, 13 miles North of Exeter and about 45 miles North of London. His old clunker car was giving him fits and he was going to repair it himself. In those days, bank clerks could not afford to take their cars to real mechanics.

I spent the weekend in my hometown of Woodstock, which is about 30 miles East of London.

On the holiday Monday, I picked up the London Free Press and happened on a small item in the back pages. It read something like this:

“Robert Reynolds, Age 20, of Hensall, Ontario was killed on Saturday in a fluke accident. He was repairing his car in his family’s driveway when the car slipped off of the jack and fell on top of Mr. Reynolds. Despite emergency medical efforts, Mr. Reynolds succumbed to massive head injuries and was pronounced dead at Victoria General Hospital.”

I was stunned and thought about what I could do under these circumstances. My first thought was to phone the Bank Manager, Al Cummings, who lived in Brantford. Al was shaken at the news and told me he would gather the staff on Monday morning to break the bad news. His last words to me were “I’d better send his family some flowers.”

On Monday morning, Al asked me to stay upstairs in the branch to answer the phones while he spoke to the staff in the basement staff room at about 8:30 AM. I agreed because I already knew the bad news. Within minutes of Al starting to tell the staff the news, I could hear muffled weeping coming from some staff members. This bothered me so much I simply laid my head on my desk for a minute.

When I looked up, my heart did a 360 degree flip! Standing at the locked double doors was Bob with his great big moon-face Cheshire Cat grin covering the whole bottom of his head!

I jumped up from the desk, raced to the doors and promptly yelled at Bob “You’re not supposed to be here! You’re dead!”

Bob kept smiling and said “I know. I came to work a little later because I thought it would be funny if anyone knew what happened in Hensall.” I was totally confounded and replied “What exactly happened- why did the Free Press list you as dead?”

Here is the weird stuff, as if what already happened wasn’t weird enough.

Bob told me that Robert Reynolds was a family friend, not related, who had come into Hensall on Saturday to see his own family and to visit Bob’s sister. They were going out on a date that evening and Robert decided to work on his car in the afternoon. The rest is history.

My next words took the smile off Bob’s face in a real big hurry. “You’d better get downstairs right now because Cummings is telling the staff that you are dead. Even worse, he may already have sent your mother flowers!”

For a big boy, Bob moved pretty fast down the basement stairs. All I could hear from upstairs were gasps, oohs and “WHATS?” Minutes later, the staff filtered up; some were laughing and others were still shaking and giving Bob some pretty bad looks.

Bob on the other hand hustled quickly into Al Cummings’ office with Al following closely behind. Another minute went by and Al opened his door and yelled “Mr. Cluff. Please come in!”

I didn’t need a second invitation. In Mr. Cummings’ office, I was asked why I reported Mr. Reynolds’ death. I pulled the news item out of my pocket (Thank God I had clipped it out of the paper) and showed Al. He thanked me for calling him, and then excused me.

For the next 10 minutes, the entire staff could hear Al’s muffled voice reading the riot act to Bob for being late, for taking advantage of the ironic situation and for upsetting the staff and him. He then walked Bob out to the customer area and with a little more prompting, Bob apologized to the staff for scaring them.

Needless to say, I wouldn’t let go of the comedy in this situation. I think it was about 6 months later that I stopped introducing Bob as the Dead Guy.

You may have noticed that the title of this story is The Dead Guy #1. Believe it or not, there were others. But that’ll be a whole new Blog later.

THE KID IN ME- BOOK ONE

THE KID IN ME- BOOK ONE

Excerpts from a Childhood Autobiography by Peter Cluff

Forward

“We do not stop playing because we grow old; We grow old because we stop playing.

Never Be The First To Get Old!”
-Author Unknown

I have led a very interesting life, living it like a child.

If this sounds strange coming from a sixty-two year old, please let me put it in perspective. I still do the things I did as a youth with the same curiosity and wonderment normally attributed to a child.

While many things have happened in my life that should have made me like others of my age, cynicism and submission are not part of my character. I still refuse to give in to the disorders of age that sometimes betray me and I will not stop trying to be the best damn kid I can be.

While penning this, I asked myself “Am I being egotistical in writing my memoirs, especially since I am not rich, famous or controversial?” I also asked “Who in the world would be interested anyway?” And the answer blasted back at me “I would.” Yes, I still talk to myself as I did when I was 10 years old.

As to being egotistical, the answer is NO. There are some things in my life that only I know. There are many other stories and events that would be forgotten when I die and my ashes are scattered on a golf course- a very nice golf course please. I do not wish to grow old and die before I tell my story.

If I do not tell this tale, you will not meet the influential characters in my life. If you do not meet them, how will you recognize the signs that will direct you to someone in your own life who could shape you as I have been shaped? Perhaps you already know such people but have not yet realized they are your future.

If I don’t speak of these things, who will? How can anyone else but me pass along my feelings felt, successes celebrated, failures experienced, lessons learned, challenges overcome and all of the precarious steps I took on my journey through life?

I have no grandiose plan that will allow you to avoid my mistakes as you move through your life. In fact, I have this impish wish that you will take missteps similar to mine! You may then look back on your life, when you have experienced enough, and say that your life was very interesting too.

I would be less than honest if I were to disguise some of the characters in this book. You would lose the full flavor of my interaction with them. In advance, I apologize to any of those people still living and to whom I may cause embarrassment. To those who have passed on, I apologize to those who hold your memories dear.

Sometimes I had to cover up the truth by changing names, dates and places. I would not want anyone arrested now after I have been silent for too many years.

And here’s one other thing before I allow you to look at the pages of my life. I have written this in the third person simply to keep you from treading on the word “I” too often. After all, I would not want you to think I am egotistical.

This book is written in Chapters based on themes rather than chronology. As you move from Chapter to Chapter, do not be put off by Peter’s age. In one Chapter, he is young. In the next he is older and in the next, he is young again.

So here is my life in print for all to see. I liken this to jumping out of bed and stretching full up in front of our big open window, only to realize that I am totally naked. Some readers will say “Ahhh. I’ve been there and seen that?” while others will crinkle their noses and say “Too much information!” For my part as a 62-year old, I would laugh at the mental picture this creates, as if I were still a 10-year old.

Hopefully, all of you will find something in this book that you didn’t know about, didn’t appreciate at the time or didn’t know how to handle. You may find the overwhelming message is that you should never grow up too soon.

This book is dedicated to my parents, Jim Cluff and Alberta Cluff, without whom, Peter would not exist in his present form.

I also dedicate this to my in-laws, Jan and Maria Pietryszyn, who taught me what the real impact of the Second World War was on the common man. Without them, there would be no Lucy (or Lucille or Lucyna or Lulu or Lu or “The Hard-Assed Carpenter”) in my life.

I should explain something at this point. Lucy gained the "Hard-Assed Carpenter" handle when she was doing renovations in the dining room and somehow stepped off the ladder into thin air. The only thing between her and serious injury was the dining room table. She managed to land on it perfectly, fully deserving of a 9.8 in my books. While the crash was large, the only thing she hurt was her pride and the dining room table suffered a small injury when the hammer hit it.

To my beautiful children Christopher and Shannon- thank you for loving me and helping me to remain young.

I would also like to acknowledge the other most influential people in my life:

- Ed Anderson, Golf Pro, who taught me the value of practice and how to laugh in the face of adversity,

- Gordon Wilkie, Medical Doctor, who taught me that seeing small things can make a huge difference in someone’s life,

- Ted Nichols, Business Teacher, who taught me the power of words,

- Paul Feldman, President of Computing by Voice, who is my Business Hero because he can type 160 words per minute without the ability to use his arms (see article in Fall, 2007 Critical Paths E-Magazine),

- Bill & Roberta Boyce, neighbors, who taught me the true value of volunteering and paying it forward,

- Jim Anderson, former neighbor, who taught me what caring for family really meant,

- Stan Hierons, Ray Murley, Doug Cole, Eric Eaves, Barb Crozier, Carl Wilson, Ron Boulter, Wayne Norris, Brian Vasey, Jim O’Donnell, Barb Godin, Alberta Cefis, Ruth McBride, Mary Constancio, Arseniy Streltsov, Daniel Maniov, a few of the current and former Scotiabankers, who trusted in my ability to manage people,

- Ron Porter, Scotiabanker, who taught me a variety of things including knowing your customers’ needs when you build something, the wrong and the right ways to manage people, the wrong and the right ways to balance home and work demands, and how to focus on priorities.

Life and the people in my life have taught me many lessons and now, your class begins.

WHAT’S THE BIG IDEA? WINNING WRITING!

This is a reprint of an article that appeared in the Summer, 2006 Issue of the Critical Paths E-Magazine

Introduction

“If you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten,

either write things worth reading, or do things worth the writing”
Ben Franklin- 1706-1790

Ben Franklin was born 300 years ago and, in retrospect, he was considered to be a visionary. With a little paraphrasing, Ben might have said:

“You will not be refused if you write things worth reading.”

In business today, writing is selling. You spend much of your business time trying to sell your ideas to others. You use memos, presentations, emails, business cases, meetings and telephone calls. If you want to sell something, you write about it. If you want to say it, you usually write it out first. But if you don’t catch your reader’s interest immediately, you will lose the sale.

The Big Idea
So how do you catch someone’s interest within the first paragraph or in the first 2 minutes of a presentation? YOU HIT THEM WITH THE BIG IDEA!

Ted Nichols is a very successful workshop facilitator for Powerful Business Writing, Powerful Business Case Writing and Presentation Skills. He usually begins most of his workshops by yelling “WHAT IS THE BIG IDEA?” at the top of his lungs. This effective wake up call brings home the point that you must get the Big Idea out at the very beginning of any writing or presentation if you hope to sell your idea.

You can usually depend on having 5 minutes to sell busy executives on your request. If you start by telling them the background leading up to your request, you will lose your sale. But if you start by saying “We can generate $2,000,000 more per year in revenue, if you approve this one-time request for $500,000 to fund a new Widget System.”, you will immediately increase your chances of a successful sale.

The Syringe
The second tool that Ted recommends is to build your entire writing and each paragraph like a syringe. The wide plunger at the top is the Big Idea. The narrowing tube below it is the Detail supporting the Big Idea. And the tip at the bottom of the syringe is the Point of the Big Idea.

As an example, let’s break down my 3rd paragraph:
The Big Idea:

In business today, writing is selling.
The Detail Supporting the Big Idea:

You spend much of your business time trying to sell your ideas to others. You use memos, presentations, emails, business cases, meetings and telephone calls. If you want to sell something, you write about it. If you want to say it, you usually write it out first.
The Point of the Big Idea:

But if you don’t catch your reader’s interest immediately, you will lose the sale.

Active Not Passive
Ted recommends that much of your writing should be in the Active Voice, rather than the Passive Voice. An Active Voice brings passion and a sense of conviction to your writing that is not lost on the reader. They will be more convinced if you say “We can generate $2,000,000 more…” than if you say “$2,000, 000 more can be generated….”.

Effective Tools
Finally, you should employ a variety of tools to improve the effectiveness of your writing:

-The First Person- I am writing, not “They”, “It” or “One”.
-The Passive Voice [occasionally]- Longer writings can be made more interesting if Voice variation is used once in a while.
-Short sentences- They add emphasis!
-Synonyms- Use different words instead of the same word throughout your writing. This assortment adds variety and avoids monotony.
-Contractions [occasionally]- It’s a conversational tool.
-Start the odd sentence with “But” or “And”. And you will make your point!

Structural variation adds emphasis, avoids monotony, and retains the reader’s interest.

Conclusion
What’s the Big Idea? I believe that writers should state a clear reason for writing that will grab my attention. Then they should hit me with convincing details. Finally, they should make a strong point to bring me back to the Big Idea. That’s Winning Writing to me!

Enjoy Writing!

To read more interesting articles, go to http://www.criticalpathbiz.com/ and have a peek at our E-Magazines.

Peter

Why I Need To Blog

They say that everyone has at least one book in them.

I have 4.

I started two books: one was 5 years ago and I got to Chapter 5 before life made me set it aside. I started the other book 9 months ago and have been pecking away at it sporadically.
The other two books are simply ideas that I have thrown around for years.

In addition to the books, I write constantly. I write because I love to write. I write because I have something interesting to say. I write because there are so many interesting people who do interesting things to interview. I write because someone in my early years told me I should read. They had me at Chapter One of Moby Dick, the first real classic I read when I was 9 years old.

I write E-Magazine articles, minutes of meetings, agendas, web pages, notes to myself, emails, Trade Show copy, small and big business downloadable organization tools, case studies, and now Blogs.

There was a time that I wrote letters to my wife and life-long partner Lu. Whenever I got hot and bothered about something, I wrote her a note about it rather than say it to her face. We do funny things when the heat is on. Today we talk it out.

Writing for me is both therapeutic and necessary.

Writing is therapeutic because there are things that happened in my life and in the lives of others that are beyond imagining. They are so outrageous, they must be true. They are so engaging, spoken words alone cannot do them justice. They are so courageous, they may not otherwise be recognized without being written. They are so real, they must be recorded for those that come after us.

Writing is necessary for me. I am 62 years old and my father Jim died when he was 58. I see much of my father in me and was convinced for many years that I would not survive past 58. I did and there are reasons for that. These are things that I will write about. I have at least 4 friends that are in the early or late stages of dying. They must be written about. I have new children in my life that will be the future of our line. Not only must they be written about, but they must also be encouraged to write. I am so full of experiences that it would be a selfish shame if they were not recorded before I meet my Maker. Life is so short that I must hurry a little bit more each day to get my thoughts down.

Blogging will give me the freedom to publish my thoughts and experiences. It will allow me to share my talents with anyone who cares to read me. Blogging will be great for our business but even better for our relationships.

So here is the first of many Blogs. Please enjoy and please write.

Peter Cluff