Better Content Marketing, Part II: Your New Content Strategy

A content strategy brainstorming session for Maslo.

(You can find Part I of this article here.)

Now that we know what bad content is, we can start to fix it. Let’s talk about what you’re going to do differently from here on out.


While there isn’t a way to directly correlate or track engagement on social media into sales, there’s significant research to prove that a good brand rapport goes a long way in attracting (and maintaining) customers. So stop focusing so much on the numbers!

If you only have 5K followers, and your post is so great and clever that you get about 500 retweets, that’s a 10% engagement ratio. And that’s fantastic! That also means those 500 folks were so compelled by your message that they chose to share it with their followers, so if each of them has an audience of 1K, that’s a viral reach of 500,000. Which means approximately 500,000 new potential consumers just saw your great content (for free. Without paying to promote it.)


And how do we get people to share it? It’s not easy (if it were, every brand would be doing it). And I’m sorry to tell you, it’s not created by an unpaid intern with no real marketing experience or writing skills. Or Deb from accounting. Or your niece who’s really, really good at all this social media stuff.

This should not be your Media department.
This should not be your Media department.

It’s also not created on the fly. Like bad content, good content also needs a strategy. Think about it like this: if you go out in your sweats and a toboggan (as in, no planning, no effort) it’s unlikely you’ll be noticed. But if you shower, shave, wear clean clothes and present yourself well (as in, taking your time, making an effort) it’s likely you could be spotted and even hit on. Organic, well-done content is created in the same way.


Your company should have a dedicated department (at least two people—solid writers, both and knowledge of marketing) solely dedicated to your media strategy. And this department should have at least two weeks of content planned out in advance.

They also need to care. Look for someone passionate about your product or service. If they’re Facebooking on your behalf, they should believe in what they’re saying; they should care about the growth, and about the interactions. Customers will pick up on that. Creating a corporate culture (more on that later) that inspires and motivates will translate to better engagement with your customers (and ultimately, a better public opinion of your brand).

Look at these happy Warby Parker employees (all wearing WP product, btw)
Look at these happy Warby Parker employees (all wearing WP product, btw). WP is widely known for having a great corporate culture.

With an in-depth understanding of how promotions and marketing works, and a passion for what they’re marketing, your team is more likely to create dual-purpose content: content that is interesting, yet subtly geared toward driving future sales.

While I can’t tell you what that content should be in a broad blog post like this, I’d genuinely love to help you figure out what good content specifically means for your brand. If you’d like to discuss this further, please don’t hesitate to reach out!


This Is Not What Kills Me.

Me, a few days post-breakup, with an accidental eye injury.
Me, a few days post-breakup, with an accidental eye injury.

I’m going to get personal for a minute. I’m going to show a bit of weakness, but I hope in my weakness you will see strength.

I have been challenged. I have faced dark days. I have lost hope and I have struggled. And I have survived, even when I shouldn’t have. My mantra in tough situations is “This is not what kills me.” This is not how I die. It’s a lot easier to take than “don’t cry over spilt milk.” It pays respect to the problems (yes, that sucks) while also helping to scale them (you’re not gonna die).

I remember the day I declared my rock bottom: the self-proclaimed, worst day of my life:

I had a broken ankle and I was on crutches on a second story apartment. My cat was gone, I couldn’t drive, my roommate was in the hospital, and I was broke. I ordered a pizza thinking I could make it last a week if I had to and wiped out my checking account to buy it.

When it arrived, I fell down the stairs and broke my hip.

As I lay there, I decided to make this the worst moment of my life; by doing so, I felt things could never be that bad again. Five years later, they haven’t been.

Dana Dillehunt
Me, back at work (as a wedding photographer), about 2 weeks after The Worst Day Of My Life.

Let me back up a sec: things have been bad. In the same month this year I lost two best friends, poked my eye out, and found out I had to move out of my house. With the dual loss, I realized my support network was gone (a new one has since emerged). The future I thought I was headed towards vanished. Everything I thought to be permanent and guaranteed disappeared.

In that, I actually found strength. Opportunity. It’s like my skyline was leveled and rather than stare at the rubble, I made plans for a bigger, better city. I’ve got a new company—and it’s already bring in work! I’m finding a new place to live. I’m finding closeness with people I’d previously considered acquaintances. But most importantly, I’m making plans, and I’m surviving.

Like I always do.

Better Content Marketing: Toss Your Current Strategy in the Trash

full garbage can
Go ahead, just stuff it right in there.

What is Content Marketing? Simply put, it’s creating content and broadcasting it in hopes of connecting with customers and driving sales. Any brand with a social media presence is utilizing content marketing. Content is anything you put out there: from text-only posts to images, videos, graphics, contests, etc.

What is BAD Content Marketing? You don’t need a marketing degree to spot this one. Anyone who has ever clicked “unsubscribe” or “unfollow” knows what bad content is. Any post you’ve ever read that elicited an eye-roll or a groan—anytime you felt obviously (and perhaps pitifully) marketed to—that was bad content. We all know what it is, and yet often we’re charged by our employers (or our CEOs) to create it.

Just really, really bad.
Just really, really bad.

But I need big numbers/metrics/ratios! Somewhere along the way, some media experts came up with a few sure-fire techniques to grow followers. Formulas and strategies proven to result in big! impressive! numbers. But what’s the real value in that?

If your brand gained 30K new followers on Twitter last month, did that result in 30K new lifelong customers? Or $1M in new sales? Probably not. Is there a dollar amount or value you can place on each follower? Not likely. In fact, there is little correlation between social media metrics and direct sales.

Let me clarify that a little bit: while 30K followers doesn’t necessarily mean each of those 30K people (or bots) are your customers, it is possible that you now have an audience of 30K to which your brand can be promoted. At least 30K (give or take) people now know what you are. Now your new content marketing strategy comes into play.

[read part two of Your New Content Marketing Strategy here.]


Survival, in spite of.

Though my genealogy indicates a Jewish heritage, this is all very new to me. The last ten years have been full of questioning, learning, studying and exploring, but only in the last two years have I been seriously studying and contemplating an open embrace of this heritage, and only in the last 6 months have I been attending services and actually being a part of things.

The most heartbreaking aspect of “coming out” as a Jew to those who have known me as agnostic, or even atheist, has been genuine concern. “Aren’t you afraid of being discriminated against?”

Rather, I see it as joining a side that could use my strength. I have never taken the easy road. I have always done what I believed to be right, even when I was outnumbered. In this way, the strength of my heritage courses through my veins—blood of so many strong people before me. With this strength comes a burden, one I readily accept: to perpetuate and preserve a culture that, though growing, is still not what it was pre-WWII. A culture that has been challenged and tested and nearly wiped out so many times.

A group of strong Jewish women…maybe I am descended from one of them?

Survival, in spite of. 

I was speaking with the Rabbi about this notion of survival, and his response:

“We were meant to be a footnote in the history books, and miraculously, time and time again, even with the odds against us, we have somehow survived.”

I still find it difficult to believe in a Man in the Sky. I believe in connection, and energy, and an energy that flows through us all and connects our biology—the explanation for why the pH of the vagina is the same as the ocean (both, by definition, what creates life [if you believe in evolution]), or fibonacci’s sequence, or the capillaries which so closely resemble life found on coral reefs.

And so I don’t see prayer as a verbal letter to the Man in the Sky, but rather a focused, channelled meditation. Mindfulness is something I’ve been lacking and needing; now I am being mindful and thankful for what good has come, and expressing worry and thought over the bad (both here and in the world).

I wasn’t raised in a Christian household; we were generically protestant and attended services on the rare Christmas/Easter, but never really practiced beyond that. I don’t have years of Christine doctrine or education to unlearn or erase. I do, however, truly love my Christmas tree. To me, it is a connection to my past. A symbol of my childhood; a celebration of the end of the year, of having been a “good girl” all year and wondering what surprises lay beneath for me. And now it represents fleeting time with aging loved ones, showing my love through meals and gifts and cards. Though it has never symbolically represented Jesus or anything Christian to me, I do understand that to so many others, it does. This will be something I struggle with.

Finding religion later in life is something I’m incredibly curious about, and would love to hear your thoughts, or maybe your own journey. Feel free to email me at any time! danadillehunt [at] gmail [dot] com.

Are You A Good Person? (Or just not an a*hole)

A few months back, the light-hearted do-gooders crowd cheered at the fact that nearly 400 Starbucks customers “Paid it Forward” by purchasing the next guests’ drinks. But the evil bastard that put an end to the chain is what stays in everyone’s mind. How dare he break that streak!

When I heard about this, I remember thinking I might have done the same thing. Or at least, considered it (in the moment, it’s always difficult to be that person). I don’t think I’m an asshole, and I don’t think he is, either.

Here’s the thing: when you do a good deed out of the kindness of your heart, you’re stepping out of your daily routine to contribute to the greater good. But when it becomes mandatory, it’s no longer a good deed. By doing what is expected and required of you (without a personal choice or commitment), you’re not being a good person. You’re just being not an asshole.

Charity, or it’s non-christian derived counterparts (tzedakah, Dāna, what have ya) has its roots in religious obligation. Obligation to take care of others less fortunate, which is a pretty decent concept to have built into faiths. But doing good things, the acts that give us the feels all over, the contributions that really, truly help others, is never an obligation (and shouldn’t be).

Doing true good comes from the heart. It comes from seeing something that affects you emotionally (homelessness, starving children, abused animals, you name it) and doing something about it.

Think of the ways you can contribute. It’s not always money. Do you build websites? Do you make awesome bulk meals? Can you teach english as a second language or educate for literacy? Do you have a hole in your heart that a senior dog could fill (they are the hardest to adopt out)? Do you take decent photos and know of an organization that doesn’t have the budget for them? Or do you have time: the most valuable resource a non-profit could use?

Volunteering to take photos for ArcBarks was one of my favorite shoots to date, and it didn’t cost anything but time.

My challenge to you is to go out there and do good things, not because you’re supposed to, but because you want to. And if you don’t want to, don’t. If things are hard for you right now, you sit tight and maybe someone will do something good for you.

I also don’t consider paying for wealthy white people’s drinks at a Starbucks in a good neighborhood an act of kindness, but that’s a story for a different post. Peter, I’m with ya, buddy.

Love, No Matter How It’s Packaged


Had the absolute pleasure (and honor!) of coming out of wedding photography retirement to capture the wedding of dear friends, Jason and Marshall!

The ban on same-sex marriage in North Carolina was overturned on my birthday this year, and I was so thrilled to witness the outpouring of love and support for NC’s LGBTQ residents—even from unexpected places, like churches! We’ve heard the awful remarks, the ignorant banter, the resignations of local officials—good riddance!—but it seems overall, love (no matter how it’s packaged) is at home in NC. And so, for the moment, are we all.

As we stood in the chilly drizzle last Friday afternoon (though the armed policewoman loomed sharp in our periphery), it was overwhelming to witness a union so many had fought for. A right that should be basic and human, denied and held as privilege.


This wasn’t my first same-sex wedding. And I hope it won’t be my last. I am a solid supporter of love—no matter how it’s packaged.

600,000 Floating Scarves

floating scarf

When you are traditionally employed, you do your job, and the company functions on pleasantly behind a curtain.

But as worker and owner, it’s a bit of a balancing act. Entrepreneurship is a 24-hour job demanding constant focus. And then you do your job on top of that. Pair those roles with those as a partner, a woman, a daughter, a friend, a human, a pet-parent and a community member—you find yourself pulled in so many directions, with so many responsibilities constantly demanding your attention, but all you really want to do is focus on hermes3your business.

Every minute I’m not focused on my company feels like a wasted (or selfish) moment.

It’s a lot like juggling silk scarves; nothing is immediately crashing down, and it’s not like a fumbling, grasping fast-paced reach for balls. Everything is delicately floating down at once, sneakily, slowly, but if you’re not paying attention it can become a mad frenzy to toss them all up again. I am a woman with 600,000 scarves in the air, and each day at least a third of those touch the floor.

But, as with anything else, practice improves performance. Two years in and I’m dropping fewer scarves (some of them, consciously allowing to fall!). The scarves are getting nicer (I think I even spotted an Hermés among them!) and the tosses becoming more graceful.

I hope you catch all of your scarves today, but even if you don’t, I hope you pick them up off the floor tomorrow and toss them back into the air and try again. And don’t be afraid to ask for an extra hand when you need it.


A New Home (away from home).


Maslo did some soul-searching last month. We had a long, hard talk about the business, the direction it was going, and our goals for the next 1-5 years. And while the video side of the business was booming and strong, my side was sort of shrimpy and under-developed. I wasn’t getting to work in many of my passions, and was getting pulled in on a lot of video duties that (let’s face it) don’t really excite me.

So I had a nice long think about what it was I actually wanted to do, and I realized that (since I work all the time and my life is completely devoid of joy or hobbies these days) the only activities I’ve enjoyed have been my involvement in the startup community in Greensboro.

So I’m on a quest to develop that side of the business, while servicing an area that probably needs me the most—startups and nonprofits. I’ll help them develop strong brand identities and effectively promote (an area I feel most S’s and N’s struggle with). And to connect my resources at the Startup Lab, the Greensboro Partnership and the Entrepreneurship community to these Startups and Nonprofits to help them grow even stronger.

IMG_2446So I’m back in Greensboro (hallelujah), working in the brand new Co//ab space, living in a dandy little home close to downtown, and life is starting to feel somewhat (dare I say?) perfect.

I can’t believe that word came out of my mouth (or my fingertips, really). But things, for the first time in an epically long time, are good. I can’t help but grin like an idiot when asked “How are you?”, when before I felt the world was always a step away from ending and doom and dread hovered above my head like a dark cloud.

And so I feel the need to reinforce, yet again, two main thoughts:

A. That in order to be happy, you must find the thing that makes you happy and DO IT, no matter what. And that,

B. Nothing is permanent. Nothing is forever. If your situation changes, you, too, can change. It’s never too late.

Go forth and be happy, people. Because it’s up to you to make that happen.


A shot from an old cemetery in Buffalo, NY. I’ve always liked shooting them.

About a week ago I scrolled through the typical sensationalist headlines that Facebook peppers into my feed and stalled on one that hit rather close to home.

Man dies after routine chiropractic adjustment.

As a frequent sufferer of migraines and headaches (and a person who’s desperately tried everything under the sun to get rid of them), I’m a regular at the chiropractor. In fact, I have about 3 adjustments left on my prepaid account. But I won’t be using them.

There are so many simple things we do in our daily lives (drive cars, walk down stairs, open closets, swallow food, take showers) that could be considered “deadly and dangerous.” And then there are the dangers we opt for (motorcycles, skydiving, foreign travel, elective surgery, sushi…). Yet we take these risks (and more) without a second thought.

The oft-repeated response to “Isn’t Skydiving dangerous?” (The most dangerous part of the skydive is the drive to the drop zone) is, statistically at least, accurate. But if you choose not to skydive, your chances of dying skydiving go down to 0 in 0. You could, if you were very, very boring, eliminate most of the risk in your life in that same way.

Me, about to jump. 2009 (that HAIR!)
Me, about to jump. 2009 (that HAIR!)

I’ve made 84 skydives in my life. The first part of the class you take to train up for your first solo dive is morbid. They tell you everything that could possibly go wrong. And then, in a comforting sort of way, they tell you everything you can do to prevent or fix it. In fact, you rehearse these incidents so obsessively that it becomes muscle memory, and in the event of a crisis (I’ve heard) that memory kicks in almost before you have time to panic.

But there isn’t training for that in everyday life. Slipping in the shower, colliding with a bus, meeting a drunk driver on the road. You’re left to fend for yourself.

For my first 4 or 5 skydives, I remember putting on socks the mornings of the jumps. I remember thinking, these could be the socks I die in. Morbid thoughts like, when my mother identifies my body, these are the socks she’ll see. I was almost mentally preparing for a potential fatality.

But until last week, I never, ever had that thought walking into the chiropractor’s office. It had just never occurred to me (even when signing that completely ridiculous form) that I could be endangering my life. That I could go home feeling fine and then just…die. I was struck by this article because for the first time in several years (since about my last skydive), I was confronted by my own mortality, and the fragility of my life.

What would happen to my business? What would happen to my dogs? What would happen to all of those awful, awful journals I kept in awkward teen years that nobody, ever, should read (and yet I don’t have the heart to destroy)? We’re all deluded by this sense of immortality (it would never happen to me!) when the reality is, it is so easy to die. Our spinal cords, our veins, our bones, our bodies—we are so fragile. One fall, one slip, one chiropractic adjustment could end us. Just like that.

Scary stuff. I know we’re not supposed to talk about death (or to dwell on it), but it reminds me to appreciate that (for today, at least) I’m alive. I’m here to run my business, and to feed my dogs. (And those awkward journals are safe). For today.

I was an assistant, and now I have one…

Dana Dillehunt
Waiting for the train to Manhattan for what was probably a wild night out, with a metallic scarf like that.

I just went through my third round of interviewing people. Young people. Fresh-faced people. Recent or soon-to-be graduates, full of life, vibrating with anticipation, clutching at their degrees and their internships and their participation trophies, the entitlement just dripping off their freshly pressed suits, with no clue how the real world works or what it has in store for them.

I want to laugh at them, but I also want to be them…

At one point I was them. I roamed the streets of New York in black Payless heels and a Target suit jacket in the middle of August, the heat rising up from the gum-coated sidewalks, my gen 2 iPod cranking out Belle & Sebastian as I walked the 60-ish blocks from Columbus Circle (one interview) to Astor Place (another interview) since I couldn’t afford the Metro fare. After about three weeks of roaming an unfamiliar city, clutching a stack of proofed and re-proofed resumés, I found myself with three job offers and a huge choice to make.

You see, this was pre-2008, and they were practically just GIVING jobs away.

22, full of hope and optimism and vodka-cran.

Job one was with a financial firm as a proofreader, with no opportunities to move up but (surely! The economy! So great!) plenty of room for raises. Job two was with a staffing service, as a resumé editor/coach for those seeking jobs. But the third job, and of course the lowest-paying of all, was something of a dream job: I would be the personal assistant to the female Chief Creative Operator at an advertising agency.

Ironically, the very job I am interviewing candidates for at this very moment.

That experience, to which I refer as my Devil Wears Prada year, did not stray far from the book/movie, so there’s no need to tell you about it. And every night I would lie awake, work-assigned BlackBerry close by, and tell myself “One day I’ll have an assistant, and I promise not to do to her what you do to me.” For one, if I sent him/her for Starbucks, I would always include enough $ for them to get something too. And bathroom breaks would always be allowed. So.

This process has been entirely too full-circle. I realize I’m not the woman I worked for during that first job out of college, nor do I claim to have her experience or validity. Please allow this impostor syndrome moment (sorry Sheryl) but I’m just a gal who tried to make it work working for others, and realized I did much better on my own. I know I still have tons to learn, but I do have to pat myself on the back: I’m damn good at my job.

It’s the other stuff I’m not so good at. And that’s why I need an assistant. A bright, fresh-faced young person, full of hope for their future, convinced they’ve got everything it takes to launch into a career and be the best at everything in a world that just can’t wait to welcome them, and no more ready for the truth than I was.

Welcome aboard, Kid. Get ready, it’s going to be a wild ride. (And for the record: grande iced americana in a venti cup with one pump of vanilla, skim & ice to the top, and a dash of cinnamon.)

Me on my rooftop in Brooklyn, looking off into the distance and thinking how awesome everything will always be forever. 2007