Taking a 9-5

Munch really captured how most writers feel about taking a day job.

Most freelance writers have worked hard to stay away from offices, mandated work hours, and employment requiring new clothing purchases. For many years, I was firmly in this group.

However, the need for shelter and food can sometimes interfere with your most dearly held ideas about employment. Perhaps you believe that if you do what you want, the money will follow, but while you're waiting for the money, it's nice to have electricity.

Six months ago, I joined the ranks of the 9-5. After ten years of working for myself, this has been a profound shock to the system.

Once upon a time, I did the one thing most writers long to do: I left a full-time job to be a freelance writer.  Now, I find myself in the opposite position, having to do the one thing most freelancers dread: spend eight hours a day on someone else's time.

I'm lucky because my new day job has a lot in common with the writing I do. I'm a travel writer and my job is related to the tradeshow industry. And the volume of daily email and other written tasks keeps me on my toes as a writer. Even after six months, though, I'm still working on my time management. That part is tough.

The hardest part? Keeping a love of writing alive. When you're busy, it's easy to feel like writing is yet one more task on a never-ending list.

Are you a freelancer who's recently had to take on a second job? How do you balance your time?

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Photo courtesy of Ian Burt; photo of the Edvard Munch original painting.

10 Lessons Learned In 10 Years As A Writer

Ten years ago, I left a stable, successful, stressful career to became a freelance writer. I wanted to do something meaningful. Something flexible. Something that didn't keep me awake at night worrying about employees and politics.  Looking back over the past decade, I'm not sure if I was crazy or visionary.

I'm still learning my current profession, but continuous learning goes along with being a writer. I've never met a writer who felt she knew it all, and I'd be mighty suspicious of anyone who claimed she did.

I have picked up a few things during my time behind the keyboard, however. Many of the lessons I've learned are more about self-employment than writing. Eliminating unnecessary adverbs is easy compared to bidding jobs properly.

Are you thinking about plunging into a writing career? Here are 10 things I've learned during my 10 years as a writer—things I wish I'd known:

1. Life goes on, no matter when your deadlines are. Death does not care if you have something due.
2. Publishing is not the only goal of writing. For the most important kinds of writing, it's not a goal at all.
3. Changing from a person who loves to write to a person who writes for a living is hard. Damn hard.
4. If you want to be a published writer with an income, learn to write well and fast. Then learn to write faster.
5. If you want to write for your family and friends, accept that they may not like what you write.
6. Everyone has a story. Getting published isn't about how great your story is. It's about how you tell it and if you can sell it.
7. The greater your need for uninterrupted silence, the greater the number of phone calls, arguing children, and sick animals.
8. Persistence and flexibility are both gifts and curses.
9. Don't expect anyone you know to understand that working at home actually involves working.
10. Technology is changing the way we write and read. Writers who ignore this are forgetting that we also had to move beyond carbon paper and mimeographs. 

What lessons have you learned as a writer?

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Photograph courtesy of James/Ellesmere FNC at Flickr

Type A or Writer?

I was reading Anger Management For Dummies-- don't laugh too hard -- it was more of a research thing than an attempt at self-help. But since I knew everyone at my house would like to see my alter-ego, the Deadline Ogre, driven out of our village, I kept reading. 

The more I read, the more I wondered if being a writer is a one-way ticket to being a Type A.

I racked up an impressive five out of seven on the "Do you have an aggressive personality?" quiz, for instance. Competitive, impatient, intense, demanding and forceful in pursuing goals. And the problem is. . . .?

Then I hit the chapter on Type A personality and this heading: "Focusing on who you are rather than what you do." Uh oh. A few pages later, I was advised to take the "tombstone test"--you know, how you want your epitaph to read. "Wrote a best-seller that was so fabulous Oprah returned to doing a talk show just to interview her" was not on the list. I suspect the author would have filed my preferred inscription under a scarlet A.

But, hey, I could do the rest of the how-to-get-over-being-Type-A suggestions. I can play games without having to win. I don't wear a watch. I do my best not to be in a hurry all the time. And the section on finding the right work environment--heck, I work at home! No problem there, right? "Type A's...tend most often to seek out places to work that are hard driving, time pressured, frenetic, competitive, and full of deadlines." Well. So much for that theory. You can't be a writer without deadlines, sorry, and all of those other adjectives as well.

After the Type A chapter, I became skeptical about my chances of transforming to the (desired) Type B personality while still being a writer. I kept reading, noting that I was already on track with most of the suggestions about being tolerant, forgiving, and responsible for my own actions. When I got to the chapter about adding balance to your life, this sentence got me: "Is your personality too one-dimensional--work, work, and more work?" Of course I work all the time. Are there professional writers who don't?

Ideas and deadlines don't stop at 5:00 p.m. If I didn't like what I do, that would be a problem--but my work is the most fun I have all day. Most of my writing is travel writing, which means that not only do I get to read and write about fun stuff all day, I also get to go do those fun things on a regular basis--and that's "work" for me. Yes, I'm constantly on the computer, or taking pictures, or reading, or scribbling notes--and that's way more fun than cooking dinner, doing dishes, or pretty much anything else I can think of.

Does my single-mindedness make me a Type A? Probably. But I think I did something better for my Type A personality than futilely attempting to change it. I elected to change my career to something fulfilling and meaningful to me. Call me Type A if you want to, but I think I'm just a writer.

#  

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Photo courtesy of Denis Dervisevic

Writer, Interrupted

"Life isn't a support system for art. It's the other way around." –Stephen King

Almost ten years ago, I decided it was time to make a career change and do what I’d always wanted to do for a living: write. I naively imagined my writerly-life-to-be as Shangri-La with a bookstore and a Starbucks. What I didn’t know was that almost no one else in my life had that same vision. Not only was I alone in my Shangri-La-bookstore-Starbucks fantasy, I was also the only working writer that many of my friends and family had ever met. They had no idea about the basics of a writer’s life, much less the idealized version I had in my head.

My friends and family were confused. For instance, why couldn’t I take their calls while I was writing? And if I did answer the phone, why wasn’t I available to talk for hours? After all, if I was self-employed, didn’t I get to do whatever I wanted? Eventually, I gave up trying to explain that when I left the world of 9-5 employment, I also left the world of a guaranteed paycheck—along with paid lunches, sick leave, and vacation. One of my friends got angry when I told her that I could not help her paint her house during the middle of my work day. People who called when I was writing left me irate messages: “Terrisa! I know you’re there! Pick up the phone!” and were irked when I didn’t call them back until after my work hours were over. My husband was aghast that “working at home” did not mean “cleans house and does laundry all day,” and told me so. I knew that if I didn’t set some firm boundaries, I would not be a writer. I would be a unemployed person who wrote occasionally.

After the people in my life reluctantly (and grudgingly) realized that I was not going to give up my bewildering new career, the complaints I heard changed. Some variation of “You work all the time” started cropping up in conversations. Instead of assuming I was available all the time, my friends and family were hesitant to call me. When my very ill mother told me she didn’t want to bother me because I was so busy all the time, I realized that I’d crossed the line from firm boundaries to tunnel vision. I pictured the pained look on people’s faces as they contemplated calling me: “Well, yes, little Lisa does need the blood transfusion right away and Terrisa’s the only one with a compatible blood type, but do we really want to call her? She’s so busy.”

I learned to ask myself, “When I was employed by someone else, would I have taken time off for this?” If the answer is “yes,” I make adjustments accordingly. I’ve learned to think in terms of what I can do instead of what I can’t. Sometimes that means I have to stay up late to meet a deadline. Sometimes it means that I have to put a project on the back burner. When I read Stephen King’s quote (above) in On Writing, that summed it up for me. Yes, I had made a deliberate choice to become a writer, along with all that it entailed. But even if I’d discovered that Shangri-La-bookstore-Starbucks place, it would have been lonely if I’d arrived all alone.
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Photo courtesy of Martin.

Writers and Mistakes

Writers are human, so we make mistakes. But with so many writers out there pitching ideas and looking for work, all it takes is one little mistake for your work to be deleted from an editor's e-mail (or tossed into her File 13, if it's snail mail). Today I had a cringe-inducing moment that reminded me of the old carpenter's adage: Measure twice, cut once. For writers, I'd alter it to read: Proofread ten times, hit send once.

I'd spent the better part of an hour carefully crafting a letter, re-working my resume, and selecting the best clip for the job. I was so involved in polishing my e-mail that until the moment I pressed send, I didn't notice that I'd somehow left the subject line blank. Now, in most cases that's just an annoyance, but in this case the text of the subject line was a part of specific directions for this job. Yelling at my computer did nothing. I did not have an "unsend" option. Worst of all, I had described myself--in my much-labored-over e-mail--as "detail oriented." Gasp.

I had two options. First, I could simply ignore the error and hope my e-mail got to the right person, but the subject line was essential because it contained her name. Second, I could re-send with a corrected subject line and an apology for any confusion my first e-mail might have caused. I went with Option Two. I decided that acknowledging and correcting my mistake at least indicated I'd been paying attention--if a bit too late.

Someone should invent an add-on to e-mail for writers, another step that pops up after you hit send that says, "Are you sure? Proofread it again."
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Picture by Zsuzsanna Kilian at http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1218052

Rejection is a Two-Way Street

Writers become accustomed to rejection, but we can overlook the fact that we’re also allowed to say no. Sometimes it’s a wise move to reject a potential client or publication. When I first started out, I accepted every writing gig I was offered. I quickly discovered this is a poor strategy. Fortunately, I learned from my mistakes. Here are some of the specifics I’ve learned to examine before accepting a gig.

Rejection Reason #1: A Poorly Focused Publication

Writers are consistently told to narrowly focus their work. How often have you heard, “If you can’t describe your piece in one sentence, you’re not focused enough”? The same goes for publications. I’ve found this to be a larger issue with websites than print publications.

In my early freelance years, I answered a call for submissions to a new graphic design website. The site had one or two articles posted when I pitched them, but not really enough to give me a good idea of their editorial preferences. Since I know a highly successful graphic artist, I pitched a profile piece on her. I got a green light. I interviewed my friend and wrote a standard profile that described her background and accomplishments, the big-name accounts she’d done, and her creative process. Between my submission and later communication (and I use that term loosely) with the editor, I noticed that none of the work they were posting had any congruity. The site was an eclectic mish-mash of articles and photo essays tangentially related to graphic design in a very hard-to-define way. When I didn't hear anything, I followed up with the editor. All she said was that they weren’t sure they could use my piece. She gave absolutely not a shred of suggestion, direction, or their desired angle. I re-wrote the piece, doing my best to make it fit their website... except that I couldn’t get a good handle on what they were looking for. Her one-line response to my re-written article? “We cannot use this piece at all now.”

A few months ago, I answered a call for submissions from a writing-related website. The editor responded positively to my e-mail and expressed her willingness to see my work. When I read the website—and I read it closely three times—I could never get a handle on what they were looking for. It was an odd collection of stories about fashion, writing, and health tips, among other things. I decided not to pitch any pieces to them (for more than just this reason, which I’ll explain below).

Rejection Reason #2: Difficult Individuals

One of my early gigs was working with a lawyer who wanted me to create copy for a promotional folder. This seemed like an easy assignment. I met with him and thought I understood what sort of image he was hoping to convey. I saw him as an honest, down-to-earth person whom people could relate to and trust. That’s how I wrote the copy. I sent him the draft and made sure to tell him that it was a first draft, and that he should let me know if the direction was right, if the tone was correct, and so on. Despite repeated attempts to contact him, I didn’t hear from him until the day I received a fax from his office. It was a mutilated version of the copy I’d done for him, full of egregious grammatical errors. When I finally got him on the phone, he explained that he’d given it to his secretary to correct. I’ll admit I did a poor job of customer relations at this point. After I told him that his secretary had done nothing but put errors into my work (along with asking him a few other questions about why he had selected this English-challenged person to rewrite my work in the first place), he finally blurted out, “You made me sound like I was picking hayseed out of my teeth! I wanted to look more polished!” With that finally established, I re-wrote the copy to make him sound more sophisticated and sent it to him. I never heard another word from him, but I did notice that he switched his firm’s focus from estate planning to personal injury not long after.

Around the same time, I co-ghostwrote a memoir that turned into a nightmare. The client refused to accept any direction, editing, or suggestions about the content of the book. She also had a thick accent that made transcribing interviews with her almost impossible. Not surprisingly, no agent was interested in representing her book. She decided to self-publish. Since our contract only covered taking a percentage of the profits from traditional publication, my co-author and I received no money from the few copies this woman sold on her own.

Since that time, I’ve worked successfully with many individuals as an editor and coach. My guidelines for working with individuals are non-negotiable.

First, I don’t take ghostwriting jobs for book-length manuscripts. Unless you’re working with a celebrity, most clients don’t have the funds to pay you for the work this involves. I was approached by a woman who wanted someone to ghostwrite her book about being the unacknowledged originator of a well-known award show. I did a little research and found that she’d been peddling her story to newspapers for a while. She exhibited several signs of being a difficult client, so I declined.

Second, I don’t argue over grammar. I do not have the time to explain why ending a sentence with a preposition is not necessarily an error, why the punctuation marks almost always go inside the quotes, or why the placement of serial commas depends upon where you went to school. I tell people which dictionary and grammar guide I use, and if they insist on putting errors into their work against my advice, I simply tell them it’s wrong, but that it’s their call.

Third, if a client can’t be a partner in the process, I don’t want to work with them. Whether that means contributing part of the writing or simply returning phone calls, we have to establish a good working relationship that’s acceptable to both of us. If a client can’t (or won’t) communicate about what they want changed or done differently, our business is done. I make it absolutely clear that a first draft is meant to be changed, and that I need them to tell me what they like and don’t like about edits or suggestions. I’m a good writer, but I’m not a mind reader.

Fourth, I do not take deals for a future portion of profits. I don’t care how fabulous a story is, unless you can show me an agent or publisher who is willing to take the manuscript immediately, I require something up front for my time. Non-writers have no idea how much work a book entails, or how long the process to get it published can take. After ten or twenty rejections, they often decide to self-publish their book, which pretty much eliminates any possibility of a profit. I don’t know about you, but I’m not usually in a position to work for free.

I worked with a novelist a few years back who had dreams of selling his book as a screenplay. I made a deal for a per-page charge and a percentage of future profits. After he decided to self-publish, I at least had been compensated for my time. If you decide to take a project without any upfront payment, be sure it’s a project for which you’re willing to be unpaid.

Rejection Reason #3: Mysterious and/or Error-Riddled Publications

A couple of years ago, I was delighted to get a call from a woman who had found me on the Web. What writer doesn't love it when the client contacts you first instead of the other way around? She was a PR person looking for general interest articles for her direct-mail magazine/adverzine that was allegedly being sent to high-income households. She described it as a real estate and lifestyle magazine, but I can’t really say what kind of publication it was because she never sent me a copy. Although I was puzzled by her insistence that due to high printing costs they couldn’t spare even one extra copy for me to examine, I went ahead and took the assignment because she agreed to my rate without any fuss. A few months after I had been writing for her, I discovered she was trying to get a website started. Some of my articles were on her fledgling site, and I was horrified to find that not only were errors inserted in my work ("petroglyph" had been changed to "petro graph," for instance), but that her publication was filled with poorly written religiously-themed articles. I cringed at the thought that an unknown number of people had seen my byline in this publication.

Remember that poorly focused writing/fashion/health website that I decided not to pursue? It was also filled with errors. Clips from our work are part of our payment as writers; without good clips, we can’t pitch bigger and better publications. Any publication that makes you embarrassed to admit you wrote for them isn’t worth your time. Any publication that I have to chase down for copies (or payment) is also not likely to get repeat pitches from me.

When you’re just starting out, you’ll be tempted to take every offer you receive. I’ve found that waiting for the right offer is usually better than taking gigs that are headaches. Remember, rejection is a two-way street that you get to drive on, too.
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Photo courtesy of Svilen Mushkatov at http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1139529 and http://bigphoto1.blogspot.com/

Don’t Be Shy

Meeting other writers can be challenging because writing is a solitary activity. Most writers who are serious about their work are more concerned with spending face-to-face time with the computer than reaching out to other writers. For many writers, “networking” is what they hope the Geek Squad will do for them one day.

But writers do need to meet other writers, if only because non-writers don’t give a fig about the overuse of adverbs and dialogue tags. You’ll have to find other writers to talk to if you want to ask questions about the proper way to write a book proposal, how to pitch a story idea, or the best way to learn SEO writing. Whether you are writing as a career or because you simply love to write, finding other writers can be as important as learning how to use Word. Writers are all over the Internet, and for those who prefer to converse with a human, writing groups, workshops, and seminars can be found in almost every city.

Pick your method for meeting other scribblers, and don’t be shy. After eight years as a professional writer, I still get what I call “Author Awe” any time I talk to writers with more experience and better clips than I have. And never, not once, have any of the more esteemed writers I’ve met, in person or on the Internet, been anything other than helpful and gracious. That’s not to say there aren’t some stinkers out there; I’m sure there are plenty of surly and anti-social writers in the world. In my case, however, I can honestly say I haven’t met them.

I’m always surprised when a busy and successful writer takes the time to ask me about what I’m writing. Honestly, the last time this happened, I was shocked. Author Awe hit me. Why would anyone want to talk to a regional writer like me? Well, if you’re a writer, you know that writers are curious. We ask questions. We tend to be nosy. And we like to talk to other writers. After I got over being shy, I had a good e-mail conversation with the other writer (and mostly got over my Author Awe).

If you get the chance to talk (or e-mail) with a more established/published writer, don’t be shy, but don’t overwhelm her, either. To make the most of the contacts you make with other writers, especially those a few steps ahead of you, I recommend:

--Be friendly, but keep it professional. Don’t share your unabridged life story in the first five minutes. Actually, unless you become exceptionally good friends, don't share the unabridged version at all.

--Asking simple questions is fine. Asking the other writer to read your 1,000-page novel and give you a critique is not.

--If you’re at a writing group or seminar, keep your questions on topic. A writer speaking about the techniques of writing narrative non-fiction isn’t there to answer your questions on copyright.

--Be brief. Don’t monopolize the conversation. Every writing group, seminar, or workshop I’ve attended included one attendee who just couldn’t seem to stop talking, and talking, and talking… all while the writer who was speaking tried desperately to get the talker to shut up. If you have a long story or involved question, ask the other writer if you may contact her via e-mail or telephone.

--If you are e-mailing, remember to use proper punctuation, spelling, etc. Every piece of correspondence leaves an impression. Most e-mail correspondence should also be brief.

--If you’ve met on a social networking site (Facebook, Twitter, etc.), a little extra friendliness is fine, even appropriate. Just remember that while your old college pals might think those pictures of you after an evening of Jager Bombs are oh-so-funny, your new writer friend might not.

--Be sensitive to the clues that the conversation/e-mail exchange is done.

Don’t be shy, but don’t be a bonehead, either. Keep some simple guidelines in mind, and you’ll be pleasantly surprised at how willing other writers are to talk to you.
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Picture courtesy of Kylie White at http://www.sxc.hu/photo/550911

Cats and Writers

What is it about cats and writers? Think about Hemmingway’s famous six-toed kitties and Cleveland Armory’s "Best Cat Ever." Cats and writers have a connection. Why?

I’ve always had a cat hanging around my desk. A feline is usually laying on the laptop, trying to drink from my water glass, or swatting at my pen. Sometimes we have disagreements. Sometimes we have full-blown arguments, like when my official office cat, Baby, decided to start spraying in the house. (After a stint on house arrest in the office, he’s been released, although he’s definitely still on probation. More about that in a moment.) Cats tend to be both stubborn and mysterious, little four-legged conundrums. Their moods and behavior can flip unexpectedly. When a cat decides that the belly rubbing session is over, he may quickly transform from an affectingly purring pet to a cranky creature with teeth and claws. I believe it’s that independent, unpredictable, inscrutable nature that draws writers to cats. If we could interview a cat, I think they might say the same about us.

Writers are almost as enigmatic as cats, at least to non-writers (and perhaps dogs). Think about it. There you are, working on an idea, mapping out that essay or story, when the phone rings or someone asks you to pass the salt, snapping you back into present time. Do you sweetly respond, or do you snarl, “Can’t you reach the salt yourself?” See, you’re acting just like that cat who has had enough belly rubbing. Just as you don’t know why Mr. Cat’s had enough, the unsuspecting person who wants the salt doesn’t know that you’ve just lost a piece of your plot over a condiment.

Study a cat’s behavior and personality, and you’ll find loads of material for characterization. Don’t get me wrong—plenty of dogs are overflowing with character (take Marley in Marley and Me, for instance)—but dogs are generally people pleasers. They want their people to be happy with them, but most cats couldn’t care less about making their people happy. They’re only a step away from being wild again, and if they could talk, I’m sure they’d tell us that on a daily basis. “Just fill my food bowl, human, and I won’t be forced to eat the poodle.” In many ways, cats remind me of the writing process itself: sometimes difficult, but ultimately rewarding. You know how your cat looks after he’s found a sunny spot by the window, after a good meal and the appropriate amount of petting? He’s purring and watching the birds, utter contentment on his face. To me, it looks like the feeling a writer gets when the story is done, when all the pieces have come together and the words are as close to perfect as we can make them.

Sometimes, however, the writing process doesn’t work out in such a sunny, happy manner. Sometimes it’s more like the day Baby Cat sprayed all over my bedroom curtains for no apparent reason. Even animal lovers have limits about acceptable behavior, and this totally crossed the line. No way could I cope with this, not with three other critters in the house (one of them sick), an almost-out-of-work spouse, and the pressing need to find writing assignments. Nope, that was it—good-bye Baby! You might know the feeling from a writer’s perspective; the story has gone hopelessly awry and you’ve no clue how to get it back on track. You’ve spent days (or weeks, months, or years) working on it. The descriptions are too thin, the plot is weak, or—even worse—it’s just wrong and you don’t why. You crumple up the paper, toss it into the trash, and mutter, “I can’t! I can’t fix this! I don’t know how!” Then the story has a few days to sit. That which seemed unfixable starts to come into focus. An idea pops into your head. You remember how much you wanted to write that story, how much it has burrowed into your soul, and solutions begin to emerge.

I’ve been ready to chuck plenty of writing projects. I’ve resisted the urge to delete my book from my computer, although at the time I contemplated it, it sure seemed like a good idea. After his misbehavior, I was ready to give up on Baby Cat, too, but I realized that urge was born out of frustration. After calming down, I took the time to sit with him, give him lots of love (and a heartfelt apology for threatening to send him to the animal orphanage), and contemplate what might be causing him to misbehave. The answers aren’t always obvious, for either cats or stories. Pushing beyond our limits, whether those limits are on our abilities as writers or as companions to our felines, can make us a little crazy. Accepting the unacceptable and fixing the unfixable is difficult, even painful. But when we move past our previously set limits, we grow.

Afterwards, we can grab that spot next to window and watch the birds.
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Picture information: Baby Cat in the den. Check out that big belly.

Under the Plum Tree

Before I plunged head-first into a freelance writing career, I imagined blissful days full of nothing but writing. I was shocked (and somewhat dismayed) to find that writers who want to be in business for themselves have to do all kinds of non-writing things--networking, research, prospecting for leads. It's a challenge to balance the business of writing against the craft of writing. When I have to escape the gravitational pull of the Internet and telephone, I retreat to my backyard. No Internet. No telephone. Sometimes the hummingbirds get a little pushy when their food is low, and the mockingbirds can be downright obnoxious if my dogs get too close to their nest, but those are minor distractions. Under the plum tree, I can immerse myself in whatever I'm writing. In those moments, being a freelance writer feels like everything I imagined.

Writers: Where do you go when you want to focus completely on your writing?
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Photo information: My outside office, under the plum tree.

Social Networking: Helpful or Distracting?

In the past six months, I’ve done a lot of research into online social networking: Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, MySpace. Writers are increasingly called upon to understand this environment. Clients are looking for writers who know how to set up and maintain an online presence on today’s popular networking sites. Additionally, these sites are often places for writers to meet clients and other writers. In pre-Internet days, socializing meant getting out of the house. Now you can chit-chat and network in your pj's.

The good thing about social networking sites (let’s shorten that to SNS) is that those of us who work alone can feel like we belong to a community. I haven't met face-to-face with most of the online writers I know, but I feel comfortable asking them questions and participating in online discussions with them. At Twitter, which I like the most out of the current SNS offerings, you can even join a Twibe—I’m with the writers and the journalers. Twitter’s 140-word limit on entries (a.k.a. micro-blogging) forces you to get to the point, which I really like. Subscribing to other people’s feeds, known as following, is an easy process. I found the learning curve a bit higher at Twitter than at other sites—they use lots of acronyms and symbols, and there’s Twitter etiquette on how to use them all.

I probably under-utilize LinkedIn, which is a great SNS for professionals. I appreciate being able to send e-mails to potential clients/editors with a link to my profile, which includes my resume and references. The site also offers some job postings.

Facebook feels like a cyberspace watering hole to me: chit-chat, silly quizzes and games, lots of fun pictures, flirting. After I set up my Facebook page, I had to admit I was stumped. What on earth was I supposed to do with it? Twitter and LinkedIn had an easy, business-related purpose to grasp, but Facebook mystified me. Was it for friends or business acquaintances? It looked more like an environment for friends and family to me, so that’s how I decided to use it (although there's no escaping some cross-over between friends and business on these sites). My Twitter feed publishes to my Facebook page, and I do my best to spruce up Facebook with pictures. The benefits of staying in touch with people are obvious, but I don't want to spend too many hours on these applications.

Any of these sites can turn into serious time wasters. You can fritter away hours posting witty 140-word blogettes on Twitter, taking quizzes like “What Kind of Storm Are You?” on Facebook, and requesting recommendations from former clients and colleagues on LinkedIn. Online social networking is here to stay, and writers especially should have online presence, but you’ve got to set some limits. Sure, now we can socialize in our pajamas from the comfort of our home offices, but is that always a good use of our time? I remember being in an office when the boss walked through and everyone stopped socializing. Maybe we need a virtual manager to march past our cyber-water cooler and tell everyone to stop talking and get back to work. Now, that would be useful.

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Picture courtesy of A B (aprilbell) at http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1063773

Bad Cat

Oh sure, I know he looks all sweet and loving in this picture. This morning, however, was another story.

Anyone who works at home must learn how to set boundaries while still remaining flexible. Unexpected things happen to everyone. If you work in an office outside of your home, you must deal with meetings, visitors, bosses, and other routine interruptions. At home, your interruptions come in other forms. Furry, misbehaving forms, in this case.

Baby Cat is this deceptively sweet-looking feline's name. Well, that wasn't his name this morning, but I try to keep things family-friendly around here. Baby was my late mother's cat, and one of the last things I promised her before she passed away was that I would take care of him. That was before he started spraying in my house a couple of months ago.

I was getting ready to go to work today, and since my office is at home, this includes a quick tidying of the house. I was in mid-tidy in my bedroom when Baby ran out of the room. Animals are a lot like children; I could tell he had done something wrong just from the wacky way he ran out of my room. That's when I smelled urine. Mr. Baby had backed up to my bedroom curtains and drenched them with pee. While I am normally an animal lover, at that moment all I wanted to do was catch him and tie his peeing parts into knots. He picked up on my angry vibe, and the chase was on.

My 11-year-old son was soon running after me as I chased Baby through the house. Luckily for Baby, he is fast, fat, and strong. I caught him once but he used his feline heft to break my grip and run away again. I was soon cursing and sweating. All I could think of (outside of cat homicide) was, "I haven't got time for this! I'm supposed to be working!" (Add curse words liberally for a more verbatim version.)

I share my office with this bad cat. When he moved in with us after Mom died, that's where he lived until he got used to our family. In an attempt to avert sure death, after ten or fifteen laps around the house, he dashed into the office and hid in "The Baby Cave," a portion of the closet that was created just for Mr. Spoiled. He hissed at me when I poked my head in and told him, "You're out of here! You are going to live someplace else! I will not have an animal pissing in my house!"

My son was aghast. He immediately laid down in front of the office door and announced he was on a hunger strike until I commuted Baby's sentence. "No, Mom, no! You cannot give Baby away! He was Nana's cat!"

All the while, there was the clock... ticking away my Thursday.

I explained to my sobbing child that he would feel quite differently about Baby if the spraying continued. I explained that I would never take Baby to the pound, but that I was going to be calling the no-kill shelters and putting him on a waiting list. I explained that I could understand the spraying in the garage, and I could understand the spraying in a cat toy that another cat had used, but I could not understand spraying in my bedroom on my drapes. "I hate you," was his response. Baby Cat felt pretty much the same way.

I left a message at the shelter and waited for them to call me back. "Come downstairs so I can fix you something to eat," I called up the stairs.

"No! I'm not moving or eating until you let Baby stay." Great. That's what I get for teaching him about civil disobedience.

The lady from Heaven Can Wait called me back and broke the bad news to me about my bad cat. When I asked her about a waiting list, she said, "Oh, I'm afraid we're beyond that. We're not even taking names." They are overwhelmed with unwanted and abandoned cats. I asked her if the other shelters in town are in the same boat, and she sadly answered, "Pretty much."

I went back upstairs to tell Gandhi and Baby the Spraying Devil Cat that a reprieve had been issued. I put Baby Cat on house arrest in the office until further notice, and then I fed his valiant protector.

When I worked a 9-5 in an office outside the house, I regularly groused about stupid meetings, talkative visitors, and other office time wasters. As annoying as those things were, I never, ever had to deal with a cat pee interruption, nor did any of my employees lie down and refuse to eat until I changed my mind about a decision. All of which is why working in a home office will prepare you to handle just about any kind of interruption or delay. And, what the heck, I got a good story out of it after all.

BAD CAT UPDATE: Baby is still restricted to one room while I research his spraying problem. So far, I haven't found much information that I did not already know--namely, that spraying can be a notoriously difficult habit to break once it's started. The behavior may be a result of health issues, like urinary tract problems, which I read are more common in big fellas (15+ pounds) like Baby. I think it's also possible that his behavior may be jealously over our other cat, who has been sick recently. (Or maybe he and my dog who has colitis are in collusion; the dog has ruined all my carpeting, so maybe Baby offered to chip and and ruin the furniture and drapery.) I removed anything in his room that smelled like the other cat and have been giving Baby extra attention and affection. I'm going to try Feliway next, and we may be visiting the vet to rule out health issues. Fortunately, he has forgiven me for chasing him through the house. As I type, he's stretched out on the floor, purring.

Step Away From The Computer

Sunday is supposed to be my husband’s day in the office. Time in the office has to be booked ahead because that’s where I work every day, and I get cranky about anyone bothering me while I’m working. When you work at home, you have to set very clear boundaries about your work hours/routines and what justifies an interruption. At my home, during my posted office hours, I am not to be interrupted except for valid reasons: compound fractures, excessive bleeding, dignitaries arriving unexpectedly, etc. Interruptions for other reasons aren’t tolerated so well. This is why we decided Sunday would be David’s day to take care of his paperwork. First, he protested about not getting office time during the week. Then he and my son told me they thought I should be barred from the office and the computer on Sunday. Completely.

At first, I thought this was vey sweet. They loved me so much that they didn’t want me to be in my office, away from them. Then I realized we don’t spend that much time together when I’m away from the office. In fact, they’re usually doing something and I’m… cleaning or cooking. My husband loves to build things and tinker in the garage and yard, and my son might be doing anything from playing video games to building Lego creations to helping Dad turn a pen on the lathe. I wasn’t telling them that they shouldn’t spend time doing what they wanted, but they objected to me being in my office, doing what I love to do. My initial feelings of flattery turned dark. What the heck was wrong with them?

I walked down the hall and asked my son, who was playing a video game, “So, if I’m not supposed to go in the office on Sunday, on what day are you not going to play video games?”

I immediately had his attention. He said, “What are you talking about?”

“This thing about me not going into the office on Sunday, that’s what I’m talking about. If I have to give up a day of writing, then you should give up a day of video games. And Dad should give up a day in the garage.”

“But that’s different! I like playing video games,” he said.

“Well, I like to write. When I’m in my office during the week, I might be doing anything. I’m not always writing.”

“I thought it was always work, so I thought you should take a break. Shouldn’t you have a day off?” he said. “I always thought it was stuff you had to do, not anything you wanted to do.”

I spend a lot of time doing all sorts of things in my office that involve writing, but that are not the kind of writing I yearn to do. I spend hours looking for work, researching topics, submitting proposals, editing, and other writing-related tasks—none of which are the wide-open, blank Word screen that I long for. If my son thought I was doing something I didn’t want to do in my office, what did that say? I realized that I’d let the business side of things overshadow the value of my writing. I like being a writer, but I don’t want my writing to always be work.

That afternoon, I found a way to hook up my laptop and write in the backyard. I made sure to enjoy the bird song and my blank screen, and I wrote about whatever I wanted. No one had objections to letting me work—oops, I mean, write, that day.
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Photo courtesy of Kriss Szkurlatowski at http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1159420

You Are Not Allowed To Write About This

For the sake of fairness, I think anyone who moves in with a writer should be given a disclaimer. “Dear Potential Character for Many Things I Will Write,” is how it should begin, if we’re being honest. Since we’re writers, however, it would probably start, “Dear Beloved, Whom I Shall Memorialize in Many Ways.”

At my home, this can become a tricky issue because I primarily write non-fiction. If you’re writing fiction, you can honestly say, “Oh honey, I know this character is a lot like you, but it’s not you. See, he cheats on his wife and has a horrendous mole, and you’re faithful and mole-free.” In my case, I can’t use this defense. My husband has seen his name in my writing for twenty years now, and for the most part he takes it in stride. However, in the past few years, he’s started to become more conscious of the possibility that all sorts of things he says and does wind up in my work, and if it’s embarrassing or funny, the odds are really good.

My son noticed this early on in life. He started saying, “Don’t write about this! You do not have my permission to write about this!” at a rather tender age. Then both of them started asking, “You’re not going to write about this, are you?” from time to time.

“You never know,” I tell them.

About a week ago David and I were talking about a subject which I cannot reveal. He was telling me something that I can only tell you was hilarious, because the moment I said, “Oh, this would be really funny to write about,” he turned serious.

“You are not allowed to write about this!” he said. “I’ve got to draw the line somewhere! And writing about __________ is it!”

Obviously, I’ll be forced to write fiction at some point so I can continue shamelessly exploiting my poor husband and still honor his request.

Do you see why writers should give non-writers a disclaimer? “Dear Beloved, I know that over the years you will grow tired of seeing yourself in print, extra so if I am published. Please know that when you allow me to creatively use you in my work, it only increases my chances of publication, which is a good thing for everyone. You may not understand why it would be good for you if I am published, but you must simply trust me. Besides, why should I be forced to make things up when I have you? When you allow me to share your exploits with the world, it enriches my writing. Let me just apologize now for any future problems this may cause. With all my love, your writing partner.”
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Picture courtesy of Armin Hanisch at http://www.sxc.hu/photo/806152

Hand Grenades and Horseshoes

When my husband and I decided to learn how to backpack, we started with a big pile of books. The Internet was in its infancy back then, and so we bought a stack of wilderness titles covering everything from how to start a fire to how to use the bathroom when there isn’t one. After months of reading and preparation, David and I crammed our backpacks full of supplies and set off on a trip that would later come to be known as The Trail of Tears. On the way back down the mountain, I cried for a solid five miles because of the blisters on my feet. We didn’t make it to the peak of Mt. Charleston, which was our goal on that trip, but we did learn that the guidebook’s trail rating of “strenuous” didn’t in any way reflect the conditions on the mountain. Honestly, for a couple of weeks afterwards, I couldn’t think of a description of the trail that didn’t include profanity.

Aside from getting a hard lesson in backpacking, I learned another thing from the Trail of Tears: books will only get you so far. A book could not warn me that my hiking partner would decide to virtually run past a church group he thought was moving too slow, thus exhausting both of us before we had even hiked a mile. The books did warn me about overloading my backpack, but until you’ve had shoulder straps cutting into your sunburned shoulders for hours on end, you don’t really grasp how important it is to eliminate every ounce of extra weight. And my books could not capture how very important water becomes—especially when you have to melt snow to get it.

Becoming a writer was a similar experience. Writing hasn’t given me blisters or caused me to scream at my husband (very often, anyway), but it certainly has reduced me to tears on several occasions. I’ve spent an entire lifetime accumulating books about writing, and I’ll tell you the number one thing I’ve learned from those books: you learn to write by writing, not by reading books about writing.

You can read books all day long about the process of revision. You can collect tips and tricks galore, but if you don’t apply that knowledge to your work, it’s useless information. You don’t edit by contemplating editing. You edit by cutting out words that don’t look or sound right—and then sometimes you put them right back in. You edit by taking all that knowledge you’ve accumulated and trying it out on your work, kind of like it was a guinea pig. Sometimes the results will be great, and sometimes you’ll be convinced you’ve edited away the best part of your work. You’ve simply got to take the leap and start tinkering.

You can find hundreds of titles about the process of finding an agent and getting published, but no book can capture that heart-pounding moment when you click the “send” button and watch your work go off to someone you don’t know. No book can prepare you for the sting of criticism and rejection that inevitably accompanies writing.

Writing’s therapeutic value is extolled in many books, not just those directed to writers. But no book can fully tell you how relieved you can feel after emptying your thoughts into a journal or letter. No instructions or directions can describe how it feels to search deeply within our souls and hearts for the words than will help us.

The books can come close. Doing your homework on any subject is a good idea, but it’s no substitute for the actual activity you are researching. Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, you know. For writers (and backpackers), "close" may leave a lot of space between the imaginary and reality.

And speaking of backpacking, I must tell you that David and I made a second attempt on the peak of Mt. Charleston two years after the Trail of Tears. My failed first attempt taught me far more about the wilderness than any book. On our second try, we had the practical knowledge to take us to the peak, which is just under 12,000 feet. Standing on that peak, listening to the wind whipping past us, absorbing the panoramic view around us, I felt as though I’d scaled Everest. It's a feeling that words alone can never convey.

Post Script: You can listen to my radio essay about our hike to Mt. Charleston at:
http://tiny.cc/8yfRE
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Picture courtesy of Brad Mering at http://www.sxc.hu/photo/223647

The White Board

People who work at home must learn to set boundaries, or the “at home” overwhelms the “work.” For years I complained about not having enough time at my desk. I became downright cranky (or worse, if you ask my son and husband) when interrupted, which seemed to be every ten minutes. I tried every way I could think of to set office hours and get my men to cooperate, always with mixed results. When we uncovered a white board in our spare room a few weeks ago, a little light bulb went off over my head. A nite-light sized bulb. “Just put that outside my office door,” I told my hubby.

The white board sat outside my door for a few days. I found its box of accoutrements: markers, eraser, spray cleaner. The light bulb over my head grew larger, perhaps to 25-watt size. I used a brand-new black marker I found to write on the board: “Whether you think you can or you can’t, you’re right.” –Henry Ford.

Another couple of days passed, and the light bulb had its final growth spurt. The two most common reasons my son and hubby interrupted me were to ask 1) “What are we having for dinner?” or 2) “When are you coming out of your office?” In the top right corner of my white board, I used a purple marker to write the date, then my office hours, and what we were having for dinner. Presto!

Every day, I change the board. The men in my house love my white board. They honor it faithfully, which means I have to honor it faithfully, too. It’s easier to commit to something verbally than on paper, and I found that sticking to my posted schedule accentuated how easy it had been to fudge on my daily commitment of six hours of BIC (butt in chair). Now, I have my white board to answer to.

What about you? How do you enforce your writing time?
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Photo courtesy of Mailsparky at http://www.sxc.hu/photo/648741

Always a Student

Last week I gave a terrible reading at my writing group. As I drove home that afternoon, all I could think was, “Am I crazy? How can I get up in front of big groups of people and read my work if I bomb in front of people I know?” I took a deep breath and reassured myself that one lousy reading didn’t mean I was a bad writer, or even a bad speaker. I knew one thing it did indicate: I needed to understand why my reading had gone all cattywampus, especially if I wanted to avoid a repeat.

I’d read an excerpt of my book-in-progress, The Department, because I knew I needed practice reading the material to a group. If you’ve written a book, chances are good that you’ll be asked to speak about it or read from it at some point. Authors who are actively promoting a book are usually seeking such opportunities. I knew all that, but I never gave it much thought. Heck, I’m one of those weird people who finds public speaking enjoyable. Or at least I thought I did.

I overlooked two key factors prior to my failed reading. First, the excerpt I picked was making its debut. Nervousness over its newness made me forget to breathe while I was reading. (Have you tried to read aloud without breathing? I looked like I was about to burst into tears from lack of oxygen, which made me more nervous, which meant I forgot to breathe again… you get the idea. The members of my writing group looked like they wanted to give me a group hug.) Second, I had not practiced my material before reading it to the group. On this point, I should have known better. This is one of the most basic steps if you are presenting anything—no matter how prepared you think you are. Had I read the selection out loud at home to myself, I probably would have chosen something else. But I thought I knew the material so well that I didn’t need extra preparation. I was wrong. I was over-confident, and I was grateful that I learned my lesson in front of my writing group instead of in front of a large audience.

What’s the motto here? You read it in the headline. At one time, I thought uncomfortable moments and mistakes meant I was an idiot. Now I know it just means I’m just human, and I’ve accepted that I will always be a student.

“You are always a student, never a master. You have to keep moving forward.”
--Conrad Hall, cinematographer
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Photo courtesy of Piotr Lewandowski at http://www.sxc.hu/photo/862490

Make the Time to Write

From H. Jackson Brown, author of Life’s Little Instruction Book: “Don’t say you don’t have enough time. You have exactly the same number of hours per day that were given to Helen Keller, Pasteur, Michelangelo, Mother Teresa, Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson, and Albert Einstein.”

When I had a day job and writing was strictly my passion instead of my work, I fantasized about what life would be like as a full-time writer. We all know this scene, right? The afternoons at the coffee shop, the blissful hours of contemplation and reading. Uninterrupted hours of time would replace the constant struggle to find enough time after work, dinner, homework, housework, a husband, a kid, and life in general. Then I made the leap into freelance writing and found that it was like moving to your favorite vacation city. I no longer had time to do all the fun stuff I had visualized in my happy little writing fantasy. Suddenly, I was writing all day, but it wasn’t the paradise I had envisioned. I didn’t always have control of what topics I wrote on, or even when I worked (deadlines do not care about holidays or weekends). I enjoyed everything I was doing, but my days were often filled with research, interviews, and clients. I faced an odd situation: I was a full-time writer, but I still felt I didn’t have enough time to write.

My to-do list remains long, but I do my best to keep things in perspective with this quote. It inspires me to turn off the TV, and helps me think about my priorities. It’s hard to sit down at the computer at 9:00, just when Larry King is coming on and my mind is shifting into low gear. It’s all too easy to fall asleep on the sofa, laptop on but unused, CNN turned down to allow dozing. Is this a waste of time, or a necessary break at the end of the day? I ask myself that question constantly. I’m not unraveling the space and time continuum, or creating timeless masterpieces of artwork, or tending to the sick and poor. I’m just a writer. But everything, on whatever scale, requires time and attention. We have to make the time to write; if we wait to find the time, we’ll always be searching.