With nearly EVERYTHING being transformed to a digital or online medium, there’s a lot of discussion about whether the physical novel will be phased out along with other art forms. We already see newspapers and magazines converting, and music did a long time ago. I don’t think it’s absurd to believe novels are next, but I’m going to hold on to the hope that they remain sacred enough to keep around as physical objects.

But honestly, what is the argument for books being preserved over music or newspapers? They cost more, they are just as difficult to steal (kidding. I mean I’m sure they are, but..), carrying many of them at once is difficult, the actual content is not compromised when transferred to digital—sounds like it might be a lost cause.

Think about the tangible qualities of a novel: You can write notes in the margins, underline parts, dog-ear pages, use memorabilia as bookmarks. And what about the wear and tear a favorite book displays as a badge of honor after years of reading and rereading? Or there’s the pungent scent of the breeze created from flipping pages—differing with a book’s age and the materials it was made from, conveying an unknown history of where the words may have been.

Do these compare to characteristics of other endangered artifacts of artistic expression? I think vinyl’s come close to possessing the novel’s venerable status, but then again I also still covet a large collection of those. I’m 22 and I’ve had many options for playing music throughout my life, but I don’t think CDs and cassette tapes have the palpable aesthetic qualities of an old (or new) record. Something about the process—removing a large fragile vinyl disc from a sleeve, with music delicately etched into its surface, all encased in a cardboard canvas of sorts. Then, having to carefully place a needle on it to receive the auditory pleasure and remain present and attentive to flip it—the ritual aspect of listening to a record is inherently more special than the action of opening a plastic case and shoving more plastic into still more plastic. And listening to vinyl is certainly more satisfying than pressing a button on a hunk of metal smaller than your hand, not to mention the differences in sonic quality, the warm analog hiss versus the compressed mp3s streaming from an iPod.

Anyway, back to books. There’s also the fact that novels have endured for so long. The earliest work that’s been called the first novel is from 1470, while the earliest known modern sound recording is from 1859. And the novel has arguably gone through more technological stages than music when considering all the different printing, paper type, and distribution advancements. Perhaps it’s here to stay?

All that said, I’m more than willing to imagine the exciting possibilities of fully digitized storytelling. I’m not too well read on the subject (har har), but I see a lot of design options coming into play with e-books. Each page could have a unique background or margin design. Different fonts could be used throughout, or for different speakers. Colors could be abundant and illustrative, pictures could become more commonplace, or there could even be interactive elements. Maybe you could combine the words and pictures and sounds and have the words spoken out loud or with the pictures moving or … oh wait, that’s called a movie.

Not to be too cynical—I do think there are some serious opportunities for innovative design work within digital books. I also think that what makes it so plausible (and perhaps why none of these design ideas are commonly implemented in printed versions) is the money saved when you get rid of all printing costs.

But I ask you, Future, please leave the printed novel be, like you’ve done with … I don’t know… walking? Or not.

It’s baseball season, and for Detroit Tigers fans, we hope, the Year of the Tiger (yes, after a seven-game losing streak, there is still hope). In honor of the Great American Pastime, I want to talk about some of the words and phrases in (American) English that have come to us courtesy of baseball:

• Out in / out of left field – Out in left field is used to refer to someone whose ideas or actions are, according to Answers.com, “a little crazy.” There are various theories for the origin of this phrase, two of which have to do with the New York Yankees, so I will not discuss them here. (The Yankees get enough attention, most of it undeserved.) One of the other theories is interesting: Before the Chicago Cubs moved to Wrigley Field, they played at Chicago’s second West Side Park, which was later bought by the University of Illinois College of Medicine. Eventually, U of I built its Neuropsychiatric unit on what had been West Park’s left field. You can connect the dots from there. A related phrase means something unexpected happening, as in, “Wow, that came out of left field.” When a runner is traveling from third base trying to score, he may be thrown out at home plate by a ball delivered by the left fielder, whom the runner has his back to and therefore can’t see.
• Drop the ball – OK, so this expression could refer to multiple sports—basketball, football, even dodgeball. Now I’m curious about whether the phrase truly did originate in baseball. Excuse me just a moment while I check … I’m back. There’s no real agreement on the origin of the phrase, probably because it’s so generic. In any case, if you do drop the ball while you’re attempting to catch a fly one, throw a baserunner out, or catch a wild pitch, chances are good it’ll come back to haunt you later. Big-time.
• Three strikes and you’re out – This one is pretty self-explanatory, but let’s give it a positive spin, shall we? If you watch any great match-up between a pitcher and a hitter, you’ll see that the hitter actually gets an unlimited number of chances to hit the ball (not only three), as long as he can “stay alive” by getting a piece of it, or hitting the ball foul. Foul balls only count as strikes up to the second one—strike three must be a swinging strike. So, you’ll hear sports announcers say a hitter has a “great at-bat” if he can extend the number of pitches the pitcher throws him to eight, ten or even a dozen. There’s a life lesson here, so excuse me if I sound like a self-help expert for a moment: In real life, as in baseball, you get more than three chances. Just keep trying to get a piece of the ball. And don’t swing at the really bad pitches.
• Threw me a curveball – We’ve all had the  experience of someone hitting us with an unpleasant surprise, whether it takes the shape of a last-minute meeting at work, a late-night phone call or a breakup announcement delivered by that most sensitive of social media, Facebook. Yup, someone just threw us a curveball, and our first response is often to throw the darn thing back, only harder. The trajectory of the curveball is north-to-south (like a rainbow’s arc), so it has the effect of dropping suddenly as it crosses home plate, leaving hitters swinging at the place they thought the ball was going to be. Here’s the thing to remember about curveballs: pitchers don’t throw them to hit batters, but to unbalance them. Maybe that’s true of life’s curveballs, too, even though they do sometimes hurt. (See a video about Tigers pitcher Justin Verlander’s curveball.)
• Hit a home run or Hit it out of the park – People use this as a compliment: “Wow, Joe, you really hit it out of the park with that idea.” If you’re a frequent home run hitter, chances are you’ll be welcome on any team. All home runs aren’t alike in importance, though all are exciting. The more runners there are on base, the more meaningful a home run is; a grand slam garners the hitter’s team four runs. So, while “hitting it out of the park” (that is, hitting the ball over the stands) is a display of a hitter’s power, it’s more significant to hit a home run with runners on base. Another thing about home runs: the more of them a hitter produces, the more strikeouts he is likely to have—case in point, Babe Ruth. He had 714 career home runs and nearly twice as many strikeouts at 1330. The moral of the story has been repeated multiple times, but I’ll restate it here: You have to take a lot of big swings in order to hit home runs. Sometimes you’ll miss, but sometimes you’ll hit it out of the park.
• For you Tigers fans, here’s your very own list of baseball names and words that, taken as a group, are probably only meaningful to you: Mags, Miggy, Cabby, Gibby, Sparky, Ernie, Pudge, JV, DD, Game 163, Jim Joyce, Paws, 1968, Rod & Mario, Jim & Dan, and finally, “near-perfect game.”

I could write about the marketing aspect of baseball, but that gets into unknown (foul?) territory. I just love the game itself, and don’t want to bother myself with all the moneymaking and shaking going on. Now I’m off to see if the Tigers can break their losing streak and head toward first place again!

Each year, the American Dialect Society, which is a board of linguists, lexicographers, etymologists, historians, grammarians and other qualified individuals, publishes a list of “Word of the Year” nominations. It can be quite entertaining and it’s generally a good reflection of contemporary American culture. As expected, the trend for the last few years is that the nominations have been increasingly tech-related, especially with regard to social networking. However, at the end of 2009 it was time to decide on the word of the decade.

Here is the list of nominees, who can guess the winner?

9/11

blog

google

green

text

war on terror

And the winner is…

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I met Monica Getz, Hile Design’s copywriter, at a presentation she gave to my advertising class at the University of Michigan last semester. I was the sole English major floating in a sea of unenthusiastic communication and marketing drones with zero interest in the creative aspects of advertising copy. When she informed us that she was a copywriter (not a copyrighter, as my professor had previously told us) and a former English major at U of M, I perked up from the deflated late-afternoon nap I had grown accustomed to and experienced a spark of energy from the potential relevance the class now held for my life and future career.

A graduation ceremony combined with a two-month back-and-forth email correspondence finally got me an interview. I was brutally grilled in the darkened conference cave by the hotheaded Dave Hile and ice-cold Monica Getz about how I would contribute anything other than a waste of time to their company. Though I don’t really remember what actually happened due to blacking out from fear and stress (but appearing to remain conscious and functional—a skill I learned while dealing with project and term paper deadlines at U of M), it appears I somehow convinced them to keep me around.

Day one, while sitting at my (shared) desk as an (un)paid intern, Dave army-crawled from his office to my area and tied my shoelaces together. As I stood up to embark on finding the restroom (that no one would direct me to), I struck the ground fast and hard. In a daze, I saw Bob, Hile’s Director of Online Technology, approaching me. I met Bob last semester too, as he also came to speak to my class while plagued with swine flu and a sharp disdain for people in general that day. His presentation didn’t inspire the same (false) hope I left with after listening to and speaking with Monica. But I digress—getting back to Bob, I thought he was coming to help me up, perhaps in return for appreciation that I was the only person to ask questions during his “presentation.” He did show me where the bathroom was … but he dragged me there by my hair and then gave me a noogy, repeating something like a dark Gregorian chant with the words, “Welcome to Hile, now go make me some coffee.” I got back to my desk, and Art, Hile’s web programmer, came over to give me my new company email address, UMhotshotLoser@hiledesign.com. My computer also mysteriously crashed an hour later and has yet to recover. Art blames me.

(The above story is completely fictitious. But recently liberated from strict college paper guidelines, I took the suggestion of writing a blog post about my time here as far as I saw fit.)

So here’s the real story. My time here as an intern at Hile has been fantastic. Hile has given me a foot in the door to an industry that I didn’t really know how to approach, and I can’t thank them enough for going out on a limb and trusting my writing skills. Everyone in the office is friendly and willing to answer my potentially obvious and/or annoying questions, and even in my first week I have already gained valuable insight and portfolio work that I never could have received in school. I have never had a “real” job before, or rather, one that put my academic skills to use, and it’s exciting to be in an environment where I get to finally utilize them. I’m very much looking forward to future work and getting to know the company, and yes, maybe even eking out a minimum wage.

Hile Design is excited to host an open house with the West Washtenaw Business Association on March 30th at 4:30 in the afternoon. Coffee and refreshments will be graciously supplied by Coffee House Creamery. At 5:30 Dave Hile will give a short presentation on inexpensive marketing techniques.

One of the goals of our blog “HileItes” is to give people a way to get to know Hile Design staffers in a different way—less business, more personal. So how better to gain insight into each of us than to understand our musical tastes:

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Many retail companies envy the almost cult-like passion that Ikea’s customers direct toward the Swedish manufacturer of designer home goods. But the company wasn’t prepared for the worldwide backlash it experienced recently when it switched typefaces in its venerated catalog for the first time in 50 years, from Futura to Verdana.

For those type neophytes who don’t know their Helvetica from their Times Roman, Futura has been one of the grand masters of sans serif typefaces since it was first released in the 1920s. It’s prized for its clean geometry and simple elegance. Plus, it boasts an extensive family of associated fonts: Futura Light, Book, Medium, Heavy, Bold, Extra Bold, Condensed, Oblique, Light Oblique—and on and on. Read the rest of this entry »

Is Dave Hile a compulsive hoarder or an inspired advertising guru? Only time will tell.

Do you collect things? My cousin collects anything related to penguins. The mother of a friend of mine collects owl bric-a-brac. Her house is packed with owl ceramics, art prints, aprons, snow globes, door knockers, figurines, pillows and anything else that could possibly get an owl image on it. I always wondered what the appeal was, and I found people who obsessively collected themed whatnots to be slightly bizarre (except, of course, my cousin who might someday read this blog). How far is the leap from being a collector to becoming one of those eccentric people who live in darkened houses, who never throw out their newspapers dating back to the 1960s?

Like I said, that’s what I thought. Until I became one of them!

I collect modern clocks. It started about four years ago. One day I felt like we needed a clock for our office. A nice big one so all the designers could keep an eye on their deadlines. But of course being a lover of all things modern I couldn’t just buy a regular clock. So I turned to the internet and began researching designer wall clocks—most of the ones that appealed to me were made in Italy, Holland, England, Finland or some other European country. I ended up buying the Contrattempo model by Rexite, an Italian product design firm. It was big and easy to read and really well designed with a cool red pendulum in place of where the numeral “6″ should be. Then a few weeks later I saw another really cool clock from an English company named Joseph Joseph. I figured the office could use another clock. I mean, there are all kinds of walls and corners in our office so another clock wouldn’t hurt, right? A week later on impulse I bought two more Joseph Joseph clocks. Four years later our office has eighty clocks. Oh, and the son of my (penguin) cousin bought me a clock on his last business trip to England. Yup, the circle is complete.

I take a lot of flack from my staff. Their jokes include not being able to tell the time from the clocks because of their modern, unique designs. Other jokes revolve around my being compulsive and my “hoarding problem.” I make our production designer, Lindsey, reset all the clocks twice a year because of the time change in our region of the country. It takes her an hour and a half to update them.

But I have developed a unique defense for my collection. It goes something like this, and I’ve actually used it with clients:

“See all these clocks?” (Client makes a 360 of the room.)

“All these clocks are created for the same purpose. Right?” (Client nods affirmatively.)

“But each one takes a wholly different approach with totally unique results. Some are clever and some are functional and some are funny and this one over here doesn’t even have any hands at all.” (At this point I show them the MOMA Timesphere clock that uses a little red ball that travels around the clock face in lieu of mundane and archaic hands. The client chuckles and increases their head bobbing.)

“It’s just like your advertising. What we have to do is find out what’s most unique about your company and the services you provide your customers. There are many creative options we can apply to your corporate branding, just like there are many different ways to create a timepiece.” (The head bobbing is at maximum capacity.)

Sure, I made this spiel up after I got all the clocks, but it actually is a good analogy. Each clock design is inspired in its own way and presents a completely different “attitude.”

I have to go now. The clocks are telling me I’ve got a meeting to attend. At least I think they are.