Showing posts with label The Writing Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Writing Life. Show all posts

Thursday, April 7, 2011

What Every Writer Should Know About Writing


I teach people how to write books. Yet, it’s surprising how little time I spend on the craft of writing. There is so much to say and only one two-hour class in which to say it. I’m afraid it gets short shrift, which is regrettable because it is so important.

I have been a writer all my life but didn’t think about it as “a career” until I was thirty years old. That’s what they all a late start. For a long time I had no idea what I was doing. I was going on pure instinct, not always the best teacher. Stringing sentences together, telling a story, threading in quotes, writing a good first paragraph—these were all mysterious processes I learned over time. I always knew good writing from bad but was pretty oblivious to how that pertained to my own.

In the last twenty-four years, I have come to understand what is most important about writing. I would like you share with you some of what I have learned.

Don’t talk about writing. Don’t explain your story or your article or your book until your listeners are bleary eyed. If you have something to say, write it. Writing is not something you discuss; it is something you do. My favorite quote is by a writer named Hugh Prather in a little book called Notes to Myself. “If the desire to write is not accompanied by actual writing, then the desire is not to write.” I have a hand-lettered, six-foot-wide sign in my office that reminds me of that every day.

Know your subject. Most things require research. Don’t skimp on this step. In fact, overdo it if possible. You’ll never know everything there is to know about any topic. The more information you have, the better you can explain it clearly, concisely, and very carefully. If you have ten pages of data, you should be able to compress then into one, maybe two really tight paragraphs. If you can’t, you didn’t understand the material.

Take time to process what you have learned. Your subconscious mind is a computer. Everything you feed into it is churning around in there—organizing itself, coming to conclusions, solving problems, getting ready to bring forth a finished product. All you have to do is translate it into the right words. When I first stumbled on this principle in a book called Psycho-Cybernetics by Maxwell Maltz, computers filled rooms and the PC was a distant dream. Maltz referred them as servo-mechanism machines. That was a mouthful, but the man was ahead of his time.

Have respect for words. Learn a lot of them. If you don’t know what they mean, look them up. Don’t use the same word twice. Find the perfect synonym. Buy the best dictionary (Webster’s New World College Dictionary) and thesaurus (Oxford American Writer’s Thesaurus). Compare what you find to online sources. I grew up with books, so I reach for them first, but there are great tools on the Internet. Look for them and use them. Don’t trust spell check. It will often give you the wrong word—there when you mean they’re, it’s when you want its, apiece when you typed a piece.

Grammar counts. Nothing—absolutely nothing—is worse than a piece of writing filled with inexcusable errors. Of course, you will need an editor at some point, but if you can’t construct a decent sentence with proper punctuation, take a course, buy a book (Chicago Manual of Style 16th Edition), hire a tutor. Grammar and punctuation are the foundation of everything you write.

Finally, trust your gut. When your writing is mechanical, awkward, overly wordy, sloppy, or unclear, you’ll know it. Don’t muscle your way through a bad sentence. Don’t keep something because it’s “beautiful” and you love the sound of it; but it doesn’t fit, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t advance your story. It’s hard, I know, but highlight the whole thing and hit the delete button. Your Jury of the Deep (inner voices, for you who don’t know me) is never wrong. Never.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Chapter 10 • 2001-2005 • The Bottom Drops Out

What goes up must come down. The high I had been on since the beginning of 1989 proved that Newton’s law of gravity applied to business as well as heavenly bodies in space. In 1998 when my favorite and most dependable client found itself in a corporate merger situation. As my former colleagues were picking up the pieces of their shattered plans, I was very much on the outside looking in. I knew they were grieving for a vision that would never be realized and a president who was about to be replaced. I was also grieving—for the same president, whom I liked and respected, for my best source of income, and for the feeling of being part of something meaningful and important.

The process took six months. When the dust settled, the VP of communications invited me back to work on a project. What I found was a changed organization. If an entire executive management team could be in state of depression, this one was. I would say the entire company, but most people had no idea of what had transpired. Even the next level of management was in the dark. The program we had been about to unveil was never announced. While most people knew the company was joining ranks with another industry giant, that’s all they knew. When two corporations merge, one set of executives has to go. Along with the president, who had spent many years working his way up through the organization, many other veterans of the business became casualties of the closed-door negotiations.

There’s an old saying, “It’s not personal; it’s business.” But when the lives and careers of good people are upended in a business deal, it feels very personal to them. I was devastated, but I was also wiser. I had been living in a kind of la-la land where everybody loved me and appreciated my work. I thought this mutual admiration society would go on forever. This experience taught me that nothing goes on forever.

My status with the company became much less secure. I had worked with three prior presidents who shared many leadership characteristics and with whom I felt a real connection. The new president had a different management style. Suffice to say, we didn’t connect. In such situation, the freelancer is the one who leaves.

The permanent loss of this client would have been bad enough if it had been an isolated event. But at the beginning of 2001, the economy experienced a serious downturn, and the bottom fell out of my little business. It was as if all of my clients assessed the situation, pushed the panic button, and fired all of their consultants (as freelancers had come to be called). There was no warning, at least in my case. One day I was working; the next day I was not. In addition to the client that had morphed into a new company, another one I had been associated with for sixteen years simply stopped calling. No goodbye. No announcement. No explanation.

To say 2001 had begun badly would be an understatement. The year was so bad, I don’t remember most of it … until September 11. If I was in a trance before, the events of September 11 threw me into a tailspin of shock and depression. Everywhere I looked, people were in the same shape. Americans were the walking wounded. In 1941, when Pearl Harbor was attacked, I was four years old. So, nothing in my memory was as horrifying as the images that assailed me day after day on TV. It seemed a tragedy without end.

The world as we knew it began to change immediately. I cannot think of any area of life or the economy unaffected by the events of that day. Nine years later, we are still feeling the reverberations. For me, everything came to a screeching halt. I had no work, no clients, and no plan. It would be months before I emerged from the haze long enough to realize the seriousness of my situation. I was not alone. I knew others who were in the same boat, but that was hardly comforting.

Sidebar

“As in any new relationship, we begin by learning. We want to know about your business, your people, and, especially, your vision. You want to know how creative, yet pragmatic, and how experienced, yet innovative, we are. We both want to know how well we would work together, how responsive we will be to each other’s ideas, ad how we can be certain that the ultimate product satisfies and delights you. Our job is to identify the problem and work toward a solution. The better we can define the problem, the better our solution will be. But we cannot do that alone. We need you.”

2001 • Corporate Brochure

What does one do when her only source of income ceases to exist? For almost a year, I had seen the demand for my services dry up, and the situation was not likely to change in the present economic climate. I was in trouble. Back in 1989, when I began this little venture, I told myself, if it didn't work out, I could always get a job. Thirteen years had passed. Somehow, I doubted I could simply update my resume and find a position as director of communications somewhere is corporate America. I had only one option: I would have to start over, from scratch.

I don’t want to give the impression that I immediately sat down and mapped out a brilliant plan for my future. I did sit down but mostly stared into space. It is one thing to know I had to start over; it was quite another to do it. To be honest, I don’t remember the process except it took a long time to get from point A to point B. My only nonnegotiable criterion was that whatever I did had to involve writing.

An opportunity presented itself (am I lucky, or what?), though I had no idea how it might fit into my new life. A friend of mine, who had been teaching a noncredit course at the community college for years, decided to retire. He suggested I take over his class on how to write and publish a book. The school was delighted, since it didn’t have a handy replacement; I was delighted since I was immobilized by indecision. My friend sent me all of his teaching materials and handouts, most of which were filled with information I didn’t feel qualified to teach. Since I was already committed, I redesigned the course and with great trepidation taught my first class.

In the interest of full disclosure, I will confess I was not magnificent. But I was hooked. I loved teaching! I remember two things vividly: I was so nervous, I read most of my lesson plans aloud, instead of just talking to the class; and I had such a terrible cold, I could barely speak above a whisper. Neither seemed to matter. My students were satisfied, and I was euphoric.

The class needed improvement and some serious marketing if I wanted to make any money. The community college paid $20 a teaching hour or $240 for six classes. I had spent so many hours planning and preparing for each class, I ended up losing money. And I still had no other source of income. Essentially, I was living on air (otherwise known as meager savings). I thought I could market the program to professional speakers and offered two of my friends a deal. I would help them write their books if they would help me polish my course. We both learned a lot. I learned that speakers don’t think like writers, so most of the time we were talking in two different languages. They learned that they didn’t want to write the books they thought they wanted to write and changed course in midstream.

Sidebar

“Professional speakers are often asked if they will be selling their books in the back of the room after their presentations. A product — be it a book or CD — enhances their credibility and commands higher speaking fees. Business leaders, subject-matter experts, humorists, psychologists, and diet gurus are all expected to share their knowledge in book form. High-profile CEOs often write books to pass along their business philosophies and practices to the next generation of leaders in their organizations; to articulate to significant stakeholders their personal visions for their companies; or to apply the hard-won lessons of their lives to the broader context of business, society, academia, or government. Whoever you are and whatever your motivation, when you are asked whether you have a book out or in the works, if the answer is “No, not yet,” what’s holding you back?

2004 • How to Write a Nonfiction Book:

From Concept to Completion in 6 Months

Despite the bumpy road, somehow I emerged with a much-improved plan; and they wrote two great books. I would love to take credit for their finished products, but I don’t feel I played that big a role in their achievement. Somewhere along the way, both of my friends went off on their own while I continued to polish my program. I finally decided I needed a workbook to bring it all together. How to Write a Nonfiction Book: From Concept to Completion in 6 Months was published in 2004.

The next phase of my personal reinvention was off to a great start.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

A Writer's Challenge: Juggling Work & Family


I must begin this blog with a disclaimer: at this time in my life, I do not have to juggle my business and a live-at-home family. I am no longer married, and my daughters have their own homes. So, what I have to say about this particular balancing act obviously does not reflect my current situation. Nonetheless, for many, many years, my life revolved around work and family, each of which demanded 100 percent of my effort and energy. The memories are vivid.

The family came first; the writing didn’t make its appearance until almost a decade later. I had a husband and two very active young children. Writing, which began as a lark, turned into an adventure and ultimately became a consuming passion. In the meantime, I was a wife and a mother with all the myriad responsibilities that role demanded. It was still the era of “Father Knows Best” and “The Donna Reed Show,” which meant shirt-waist dresses, dinner on the table every night at six, and driving a station wagon full of little people to and from nursery school. I wrote in stolen moments, when the girls were in school or after they went to bed.

In the beginning, writing had to be squeezed in between all of the other stuff of life. I’m sure it was viewed by my family as a “hobby,” but all of that changed when I landed my first job as a full-time writer. That’s when the competition between the two halves of my life really intensified. By that time, I was a single parent, in addition to being a floundering new editor of a city magazine. My little girls were probably the original latchkey kids. They could let themselves in the house and make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but that didn’t stop them from calling me 100 times a day. There never seemed to be enough of me to go around. The hours at work were long and stressful; my salary was a joke; and my health zigzagged all over the place.

Each step in my career brought more responsibility, less flexibility, and longer commutes. Guilt became my constant companion. I was never a Brownie leader or a room mother. I didn’t go on field trips or take an active role in the PTA. I remember being 20 miles away, interviewing a college president, when my editor called to tell me my youngest daughter had broken her arm, falling off the top of the cheerleaders’ pyramid. The president was very gracious when I left suddenly.

On the bright side, I allowed gymnastics meets and disco practice in my living room; encouraged having friends sleep over; and subtly forced my daughters to learn to cook, the alternative being starving to death. I took some great pictures at real gymnastic meets and of the cheerleaders at football games, helped with many English papers, and learned to “edit on my eyelids” when the girls were in college. I tell you this because I now know this is how many writers live — employed, moonlighting, full-time, part-time, male or female. In today’s world, juggling roles is simply the way it is.

It was and is useless to haul around a bag of guilt and, obviously, beyond stressful to think you can do everything, be everywhere, and keep all those plates in the air without dropping one now and then. If I had it to do over again, I would do things differently.

• I would face reality and kick the guilt. “You gotta do what you gotta do,” as they say; and feeling that you are failing your family doesn’t help you, them, or your work.

• I would communicate more assertively and less defensively. If your family (husband, children, parents, whoever) understands the challenges you face, and you understand theirs, you can work together to help each other over the rough spots.

• I would make and enforce a simple agreement. When I’m working, please don’t disturb me unless it is a real emergency; when we are together as a family, I won’t let work interfere.

• I would strive for balance in my life. I would figure out what is truly important and what is extraneous. If you have your priorities straight, even if there are only two or three of them (work, family, yourself, not necessarily in that order), you won’t constantly pour your energy down the drain.

• I would put self-care high on that list of what is important. If you run yourself into the ground, stress out, or get sick, you will be of little good as a writer, mother or father, spouse, or caretaker of an aging parent.

• I would ease up on the perfectionism. If you can’t do it all, you certainly can’t begin to do it all perfectly. When you die, do you really want your epitaph to read “She died with a bottle of Windex in her hand”?

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

The who, what, when, where, and how of blogging

When I started my blog, I had no idea what I was doing. That would seem to imply that now I do, which is not quite accurate. But high on my list of marketing tactics for 2009 is learning everything I can about successful blogging and then applying those lessons to The Writing Life and PRISM. To that end, I have been diligently researching, reading, making lists, and trying out one lesson at a time. While there are dozens of blogs on blogging, I have tried to condense some of the best of the best tips into one list to share with those who may need a map for this strange new territory (I sure did!). Here are the basics.

Who (is your target audience?)
1. Readers who are interested in what you do
2. Potential customers or clients
3. People you can help in some way

Why (should you have a blog?)
4. To provide value to your readers
5. To inform, teach, guide, entertain, or all of these
6. To develop a following of loyal followers and raving fans
7. To create and reinforce your brand
8. To sell ideas, services, or products

What (should you do in your blog?)
9. Tell success stories — yours, your clients’, or your readers'.
10. Answer questions you have been asked in the past.
11. Write about what you know.
12. List useful tips on how to do things.
13. Recommend books and resources.
14. Tell great stories.
15. Do your best writing; don’t post until it’s perfect.
16. Interview colleagues and experts in your field.
17. Reprint other blog posts; always ask for permission or cite sources.
18. Reprint other articles; always include the author’s descriptive blurb.

How (should you go about it?)
19. Stick to your subject; be consistent.
20. Remember: delivery, packaging, and presentation count.
21. Feature others; write profiles.
22. Develop a survey, questionnaire, or online interview; post responses.
23. Solicit guest posts.
24. Ask your readers what they need; then, provide it.
25. Let yourself experiment; use some creativity.
26. Comment on other blogs.
27. Submit posts to other blogs.
28. Offer to be a guest blogger.
29. Link to other blogs; request links from them.
30. Read great blogs; subscribe to them.
31. Put a link to your blog in your e-mail signature, every page of your website, all outgoing correspondence, your newsletter, your author’s blurb, business cards, brochure, and flyers.
32. Include RSS feeds so people can subscribe to your blog.
33. Use trackback links when you quote from or refer to other blog posts.
34. Carry a little blog idea book around with you. Jot down ideas; create a backlog.
35. Write articles; include a link to your blog in your authors blurb.
36. Respond to comments readers make on your blog.
37. Create a “best posts page” category on your main page; link to your best posts.
38. Create tags for every blog post.
39. Let your personality shine through; find your “voice.”
40. Talk to your readers; have a conversation.
41. Remember, you’re a resource; always give your readers something.

Where (should you submit or post your blog?)
42. Submit your blog to blog directories: BlogCatlog, Masternewmedia.org
43. Recommend great blogs: copyblogger, remarkablogger, writetodone.
44. Check out biztipsblog.com, coachezines.com, JTPratt's Blogging Mistakes, and pingomatic.com.
45. Visit Marketing Strategy Thoughts for ideas.
46. Use TwitterFeed to link your blog posts to twitter.
47. Submit your blog to MyBlogLog, BlogCatalog, Bumpmee, EntreCard, weblogs.com, digg.com, myweb.yahoo.com, stumbleupon.com, blinklist.com.
48. Link to del.icio.us.com.
49. Sign up for an account on Technorati.

When (should you post?)
50. Regularly and often

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Social Networking for Novices


Somewhere on one of my earlier marketing plans, I had a goal (or a strategy or a tactic — can’t remember which) of getting my name out there in cyberspace through social networking. I had help with the marketing plan but absolutely no clue what I was getting into with social networking. “Well, you know,” my marketing guru explained. "It’s sites like FaceBook and MySpace and Yahoo 360.” I really didn’t know, but I think I nodded anyway.

So, off I went to all these strange sites, where I filled out forms and invented passwords and created long, detailed, personal profiles. One the early ones I found was Gather, which was fun. I met a lot of nice people and posted book reviews and photos. I loved Gather until the powers that be changed it completely. I never figured out why they would take something that worked and break it; maybe it was part of their business plan.

MySpace was still pretty much for kids, so I skipped it. I did sign up for FaceBook, but never really got the hang of writing on people’s walls. On Yahoo 360, I started a blog, which is now languishing, since I have “The Writing Life” on my own website. Someone invited me to join LinkedIn, which I have found to be one of the best sites for making professional contacts. And. lately, I have learned to Twitter.

For my generation, I would have to say, Twittering is as strange and mysterious as text messaging in undecipherable code. It has its own version of Twitter terminology, which I printed out, and LOL (laughed out loud), it was so goofy.

Try translating this:
UR Tweet wos GR8, but I wld rather do V2V w/ U. RU up 4 that? If so, I’ll ttyl. FYI, 2nite is good 4me. TIA, BL

For the uninitiated, it means:
Your tweet (short, 140 character instant message or mini-blog post) was great, but I would rather do voice-to-voice (talk on the phone) with you. Are you up for that? If so, I’ll talk to you later. For your information, tonight is good for me. Thanks in advance, Bobbi Linkemer

People “follow” me, and I follow them on Twitter. It gets a little overwhelming, especially when I can’t remember exactly who they are or why I started following them in the first place. Their little messages — some of which are stream-of-consciousness accounts of every move they make — pop up on my TwitterDeck (downloads the tweets into different categories), always with links to someone else’s Twitter page/site/whatever.

In addition to just plain Twitter, there are TwitterPacks (a Wiki that lists Twitter members by category, geography, etc.); TwitterFeed.com (connects my blogs to Twitter and tweets them automatically); Twellow.com (where you find people to follow); myvidoop.com (where I signed up for TwitterFeed); TwitterBuzz (quick tips for business tweets); Tweeple (people who tweet, or is it twitter, from LinkedIn); and tinyurl.com (which I haven’t figured out yet).

I know I could easily make social networking (especially Twittering) my life’s work if I don’t get a handle on it immediately. I know that because it would appear that others are making it theirs. I can picture them, staring bleary-eyed into their computers, cell phones, Blackberries, and other tiny screens, texting, twittering, e-mailing, and slowly going blind and bonkers. It’s not a pretty picture.