You are a nonprofit executive. You eat lunch at your desk regularly, 50 hours a week is a "short" week, and you're understaffed. You are the head of human resources, lead fundraiser, and mentor to a team of young idealists. You don't have time to become an expert in social media, but you don't have to be. Here are five tips for faking it.

1.     Have a communications plan. This plan does not have to be complicated. It could be as simple as, "We will post to Facebook three times a week to share upcoming events, recent successes, fundraisers, or interesting news articles our supporters will appreciate." Although I recommend something more complex, if you have NO strategy, simple is better than nothing. This is the template I use with my clients and will help you and your team determine your social media goals.  

Four hundred twenty miles driven and eleven tanks of gas exhausted stalking presidential candidates over the last two months. I know it isn’t technically stalking because the public is invited, but my Instagram feed is beginning to look like there should be a restraining order. Pictures of me with presidential hopefuls and tiny images of someone gesticulating wildly on a stage who seem farther away than they were because of my not-so-great camera phone. I have thought about bringing my big camera, with the 50x zoom, but for some reason, this would reinforce that stalking feeling.

Seven different events and seventeen candidates (list below), plus two presidential debates, and I am no further along in deciding who I want to throw my support behind for the primaries. I vote in Illinois, and typically, the primary race is over by the time it’s our turn, but maybe with 20 contenders, Illinois will become relevant. And even if we don’t, it’s important to me that I have a preference because, to be honest, I am excellent at having opinions.

Although I don’t have a final “pick,” I have learned three things about the Iowa process and made some initial decisions about the field.

On Saturday afternoon, I woke up on my front porch from an unplanned but welcome nap. The zen of my unexpected slumber quickly disappeared after I saw the news of yet another mass shooting from El Paso. I sent a paranoid and panicked message to my friends who live there, and they thankful confirmed their safety in minutes. Then, I stomped around the house, angry that these shootings continue to happen, and discouraged because I feel so helpless to affect change on this issue.

The cycle repeated itself the next morning when I woke up to the news of the Dayton shooting. Two in less than 24 hours. I watched all the Sunday morning news shows hoping maybe this time would be different, but expecting the rhetoric to be the same.