VOLUME 21, ISSUE 8 – AUGUST 2022
THIS MONTH’S MENU:
I. APPETIZER: THE SURPRISING GIFT OF BOREDOM
Why Little Nothings Can Often Lead to BIG Somethings
II. “FIELD” GREENS: AN ODE TO LONGHAND
The Case for Physically Writing Out Your Copy First
III. MAIN “MEAT” COURSE: CAN YOU WIN ON JOB SITES?
Beat the Odds by Playing Your Game, Not Theirs
IV. DESSERT: COMBO SUCCESS STORY & TIP
Your Initial Business-Building Efforts Will Pay Dividends for Years
I. APPETIZER: THE SURPRISING GIFT OF BOREDOM
Why Little Nothings Can Often Lead to BIG Somethings
A few months ago, in an email blast, my friend, colleague, business-building coach for writers and copywriters (and E-PUB regular), Ed Gandia, extolled the virtues of boredom. Yes, boredom. He wrote (excerpted):
Boredom used to be part of life. However, that all changed with the smart phone.
Suddenly, we have information and entertainment at our fingertips 24/7/365.
Smart phones are wonderful. But they’re robbing us of boredom. [And] boredom plays a valuable role. It contrasts with moments of our lives that are truly fun, interesting and engaging.
It also gives our subconscious minds space to process thoughts and formulate ideas and plans—which is very important when you’re a creative professional.
He then suggests that we consciously create pockets of boredom, adding, “If you automatically reach for your phone, tablet, or computer the moment boredom hits—try to resist that urge.”
Why? “Because allowing boredom to manifest might just give you a professional edge.”
Couldn’t agree more.
As I read his piece, I immediately thought of a book I came across a few years back with the exact same premise: The End of Absence: Reclaiming What We’ve Lost in a World of Constant Connection by Michael Harris.
In this provocative, enjoyable work, Harris essentially makes the same point (along with countless others), though he calls it absence, not boredom.
That absence—that state of being where nothing is going on—used to spawn daydreaming, wool-gathering, navel-gazing, whatever you want to call it. And those moments of nothingness, far from being wastes of time, were and are often the crucibles of creation.
Before the advent of these portable, infernal “distraction machines” in our pockets, that daydreaming was effortless, because sometimes, there really was nothing to do.
No longer. A rich irony, no? We’re now living in a time when we have to proactively create nothingness. Is that oxymoronic?
I reviewed a book in March 2021 E-PUB (archived here), called Digital Minimalism that covered similar ground, but focused more on the real threat that devices present to living an intentional life. If you missed it back then, might be worth a look.
If that intentional life is your goal (and shouldn’t it be?), Ed and I are on the same page: that actively creating blocks of nothing is key to making that happen. On that “turn-nothing-into-something” note, let’s eat!
II. “FIELD” GREENS: AN ODE TO LONGHAND
The Case for Physically Writing Out Your Copy First
OK, this’ll likely surprise most of you…
With rare exceptions (i.e., fast-approaching deadlines), all the copy I’ve written since I launched my writing practice in 1994 was written out longhand first. Inefficient, right? Well, hang in here with me…
Why do I do this? Okay, this’ll sound a bit “woo-woo,” but there’s something about an unbroken connection from brain to arm to hand to pen to paper that you don’t get tapping on a keyboard.
It makes the process more essential and organic.
What do I mean? Look at the image below. It’s a sample of the work I did on the update of TWFW, released last year (and I’ll explain the embedded icon shortly).
Sure, in places, it looks like gobbledygook (but, like the guy with the über-cluttered desk, I know where everything is…). Notice the places where I wrote something, then scratched it out, and replaced it with different copy.
Doing it this way allows me to be messy and broad-minded in my process as I write something—an ideal state to be in. As I write it, I just expect it to evolve.
Composing on a screen, where you’d backtrack, delete and retype every time you wanted to change something, doesn’t provide the same creative canvas. To my mind, it interrupts the creative process in a way that longhand doesn’t.
Also notice the arrows where I shuffle around sections for a more logical flow. Being able to see what you scratched out and replaced with something else is useful, as sometimes I’ve gone back to the original wording, having decided it was better. That likely wouldn’t have happened if it’d been deleted.
But, what about all that extra time to type up your scribbled messes? Point taken, and for years, I did just that. It took longer, but I know it yielded a higher-quality outcome.
But then I discovered dictation apps. Some are built into both PC and Mac platforms, but they’re so-so in quality. For years, I used DragonSpeak, which was the pioneer in voice recognition software.
Today’s version of the program (Nuance) starts at $200 and goes up from there. A few years back, I found the Dictate app (the icon in the doc above) for iPhone—$17.50 at press time, annually, and worth every penny.
I use it for composing long emails as well. There are any number of similar apps, and likely of comparable quality.
It’s been an absolute godsend. Once I writing, I open the app, tap a few buttons, start dictating (sitting back in my chair), and, when done, a few more taps has it magically appear on my Mac, ready to cut and paste into a Word doc.
This article was created solely through dictation in about 10 minutes. Heck, you say, I’ll just skip the writing and typing altogether and just dictate my copy. And I’ve done that from time to time, though creating copy extemporaneously isn’t ideal in many scenarios.
Writing longhand is an adjustment for sure, and it’s not for everyone, but I know it’s made me a better writer. Give it a shot. And if you do, let me know what you think.
III. MAIN “MEAT” COURSE: CAN YOU WIN ON JOB SITES?
Beat the Odds by Playing Your Game, Not Theirs
Some years back, I got an email query for the E-PUB, but it ended up in the wrong folder, and I just found it. Its message is just as relevant today.
The writer (who preferred to remain anonymous) was sharing her success on some online job sites—venues, which, as a rule, I don’t recommend.
Though, in the last two editions of TWFW, I’d included stories of writers who’d thrived there—mainly to showcase how they did so in a venue generally unkind to high-priced practitioners.
Like the writers who’d also succeeded online, she’d drawn her line in the sand, and her advice applies to anyone building a practice, whether on online sites or following my game plan in TWFW. She wrote:
I started my practice mere days after finishing your book. I joined a few online job sites, and to my complete surprise, I started getting work immediately, and better yet, I was getting well paid.
In just five months, I went full-time. Do I have 20 years experience? No. I’m 28, and your book gave me the confidence to jump in and do this.
I think I’ve been successful because I’ve taken many of the principles you talk about and applied them to my business. I never miss deadlines, I don’t write crappy copy or cut corners, and I treat all my clients with honesty and respect.
I keep a quote by Somerset Maugham on my desk: “If you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it.”
I made a pact from day one that I wasn’t going to write for a pittance. I don’t apologize for my rates or compromise my values by working for shady people. As a result, the majority of my clients are great people that pay me well.
It’s now been almost a year since I read your book. I’ve made more money since then than I’ve ever made in my life. I don’t have to go out “looking” for work anymore, because my clients come to me. They pass my name around and keep coming back to me with more work than I can handle. And there you have it.
When I shared my skepticism of the online venue, she replied:
You’re totally right about the low-ballers—asking for a penny a word or less. I avoided those projects like the plague. I got turned down a lot because I was “too expensive.”
I got asked to lower my rate tons of times, but I didn’t because I was tired of writing for nothing. And I still got work.
There are plenty of buyers out there who understand that you really do get what you pay for, and these are the people that I went after. I then made sure I kept my promises.
There’s always going to be someone willing to work for less. That’s true anywhere, but every writer brings something different and special to the table.
On average, I make $60 an hour (PB: And this was some years ago). I’ll be raising my rates to $70 an hour on January 1.
And yes, I’ve also heard from other writers how tough it is to make a living on online sites. But sometimes I wonder if people are just giving up too quickly?
PB: Final note—You have to be a good writer to make it as a commercial freelancer—not incredible, but better than average. And that goes doubly if you’re trying to make it on online job sites, where middling-skilled writers are everywhere.
IV. DESSERT: COMBO SUCCESS STORY & TIP
Your Initial Business-Building Efforts Will Pay Dividends for Years
Got the following combo tip/success story from a FLCW who I coached some years back (and who prefers to remain anonymous). What a great message, and one that absolutely matches my own real-world experience.
I recently had my first work slowdown in over a year after losing some long-term clients. And that meant doing some real marketing for the first time in a while.
I was mentally gearing up for a lengthy campaign but, after a week of emails and old-client follow-ups, I was already booked up again.
The lesson I learned here should inspire newer freelancers who are frustrated with the major initial outreach necessary to build one’s practice.
One key piece of advice you and others gave me at this stage was that this initial effort was not just building revenue today, but building it for tomorrow as well.
People who stick around for a while naturally build up their network which makes landing business much easier over time.
PB: Yes, the initial business-building efforts required to get your practice off the ground are substantial, and can feel like zero progress for a really long time.
But, if you stick to it*, and you indeed build a thriving practice, you’ll never again have to do similarly herculean outreach. A much smaller effort will get things moving again.
It’s like driving a car: it takes a LOT more effort and momentum to get a car moving from a dead stop to highway-cruising speed than it does to get a car that’s running at 40 back up to 60.
*Assuming you’ve got solid writing chops, the “sticking-to-it” part—i.e., not quitting—is THE key to success.