How I Wedged My Pinky Toe Firmly in the Freelance Writing Door

So one day I start a blog because I want to play along with a book meme.  But creating a blog is a lot more involved than I had anticipated.  I have to come up with a name, a theme, a design, and even teach myself HTML.  Several months later, I read that I am also supposed to come up with a niche.

I’ve never had a niche.  Not in my real life in the real world.  Not ever at all.  I understand the rationale behind the idea.  Find something you do really well and promote it.  Others will flock to you for the knowledge.  How cool to be the blog version of Al Pacino – the go to guy for a certain role – but what if you don’t do one thing really well?  And even if you did – what if you promote it and no one comes?

I keep posting nicheless – trying to please everybody – or at least to offend no one.  People start following along.  Some like the book posts.  Others stick around for the musical interludes.  I start a movie meme and pimp it out to a referral site.  I feed my need for self aggrandization with weekly photo contests.  But I get my kicks off of the sports posts.

No one cares about the sports posts.  My followers fall under demographics I don’t fit but for some reason they keep signing up.  I learn that posting about what I want allows my passion to come out through my words, and people find it sincere and entertaining.  I also learn that posting has stirred up the writing bug.  I ramble longer and delve deeper.  This is fun.

Through the memes I come across a link to a travel site.  I like the place.  I know that I could live there.  But I don’t know who to ask about a job.  I leave a comment for the post author.  I make a random guess from the “Who We Are” list and send an e-mail.  I don’t hear back from anyone.  Sabattical.

Months later I randomly end up back at the same travel site again.  But this time I dig deeper and stumble upon the right contact.

“If you want to write for us e-mail here,” it says.  So I do.  I want to write about the places I go and I can do it for you.

“Show us some samples,” they say.  I don’t have any but here’s a link to my blog.

“OK. You can write for us.”

What?  Really?  That’s it?  Just ask and I get a job?  Very cool.  Freelancing is wicked easy.

I agree to a stable consulting contract with fair pay, excellent support and good exposure.  I learn how to work with SEO, improve my writing, and put myself out there.  I have found someone willing to pay for my words.  Someone pays me to write. Which it turns out is all that I have ever really wanted.

Now how do I convince anyone else to believe in me?  I send e-mails to help wanted postings.  I don’t get responses.  It seems I got incredibly lucky with my first writing job. Freelancing is wicked hard.  I don’t do formal interviews very well.  I like to pull up a chair and chat about things instead.  I guess I’ll go back to virtually knocking on random sites of interest to me.  After all, if I don’t ask, how else will they know about me?

Molly G. lives outside of Boston, Massachusetts and created The Bumbles Blog in October, 2008. There she shares her virtual home in the blogosphere where any and all are welcome to stop by for some comic relief, book discussions, movie games, travel stories, musical thoughts, and glimpses of what she sees through the lens of her camera.  When she isn’t blogging with her husband, Andy, she is working hard in the real world for a Financial Planner, along with providing travel posts to the UpTake Attractions Blog.  Most importantly, she makes time to create memories with family and friends - and watch baseball.

Yes, I accept guest posts.

But there’s a catch. (Isn’t there always a catch?) The post needs to be at least remotely related to freelance writing, whether it includes business tips, writing craft explanations, funny rants, advice or something I didn’t think to list here. I started this blog with newbie freelance writers in mind, so anything that will help a shiny new freelance writer spread his or her stubby little bat wings is truly welcome. (Fiction writer friends,  poets, creative non-fictionistas, you guys are welcome to contribute as long as the post is about writing craft or another topic relevant to all writers.)

Other welcome topics include questions or speculation from new freelance writers, like this great post Vanessa Knauf shared with us a couple of weeks ago.

Finally, I reserve the right to turn down guest posts if they don’t meet my quality standards or reek of blatant self-promotion or product placement.

If you would like to guest post at Life and Times, simply contact me. You can pitch an idea or send over a guest post already fully formed. I’m not picky. Just don’t forget to include a bio and a link to your website or samples.

Got it? Good. Happy guest posting!

Who’s the Boss?

No, it’s not Tony Danza–it’s me! Or so I’m starting to realize as I forge into the exciting world of freelance writing. I’m not entirely comfortable with being the boss, as I have always sought to undermine authority. During college, I always spent a good percentage of my minimum wage jobs goofing off: taking five too many five minute breaks, giving my friends free food, and sweeping the dirt under the rug. But now, as I take on the role of bossing myself around, I find undermining my authority to be counterproductive.

If I take too many breaks, or I don’t keep my records straight and my calendar organized, I lose money. And nobody is paying me a minimum wage salary to make up for it. I try complaining to my friends: “The boss man’s got me working 10 hours a day. I barely get a lunch break!” I say. Then they remind me that I am the boss man.

Well, if I’m the boss, I guess I can take the day off and take the dogs to the park, right? As long as I don’t mind having a small freelance business that doesn’t even cover my rent. But how do I kick my butt into gear and tell my subversive self that I can’t have a two hour lunch break?

I recently saw the movie Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (probably watched it when I should have been working), and I realized that I could learn a lot from Zaphod Beeblebrox, who has two heads for his two disparate personalities. One head is for more responsible and sensible thinking and the other is for his trouble-making urges.

If I’m going to be successful at this writing for myself gig, I’ve got to have two heads about me: a boss-head and a trouble-making-head. Now, if I can just keep my trouble-making-head doped up on sleeping pills, I should be able to get some work done around here.

Vanessa Knauf has a master’s in writing from Kennesaw State University and alternates between writing Web content and short fiction. Visit www.VanessaKnauf.com to view more of her work.

Like what Vanessa just did there? Well, Life and Times is always open to new guest posters. We love to hear from new freelancers just getting their feet wet or experienced writers who have a few old tricks to share. Contact Jenn for more information on guest posting.

Prologue:   Jennifer and I met during an on-line writing course. We’ve met in person also, but our first encounter was on the Net.  I can’t tell you the name of the course we took.  Not because of any proprietary limitations, but because it’s embarrassing as hell and I really don’t want anyone to know I squandered $150 on such an obvious joke. 

 The circus clown instructor had rules about what you could and could not write.   They weren’t helpful rules on style or composition, but veiled content censorship.  We were not allowed to write “anything violent,” or “too dark.”

Anyone familiar with Jennifer’s fiction realizes that Sunshine Mary the teacher may as well have duct-taped Jenn’s laptop shut with that edict. But our Jennifer is not a fan of “rules,” (Jennifer’s Note: Only dumb rules) and posted what she damn well wanted to. 

Frilly apron-wearing hack the instructor also imposed rules about posting personal information in the class forum.   I was forced to leave some pretty cryptic messages in an effort to give Jenn my e-mail address, as it was excruciatingly clear she was the only other enrollee with a lick of sense.

Fast forward a couple of years and here we are.  She has asked me to appear as a guest on her blog site, to share my (in)experience in trying to establish myself as a freelance writer.

Ink or Swim

Somewhere in mid-January, I decided to believe in my own writing.  Until then, I always felt amateurish and untalented.  There were other people I knew that labeled themselves writers, and I thought they dealt with an underlying torment that I did not.  I write because I can.  They write because they have to.  I felt “unworthy” of declaring myself a writer, because I didn’t have the soul-twisting obsession that I thought “real” writers have. 

I’ve always had the support of family and friends, but I never trusted it.  You expect friends and family to pat you on the back and say “good job,” even if you suck.  It wasn’t until I started getting feedback from less well-known acquaintances and strangers that I began to believe, and started thinking about freelance work.

I knew nothing.  I wanted to swim, but I didn’t even know where to find the pool.  So I did what I always do when I don’t know anything—I Googled.  I read every article I could find on breaking into freelance.  Then I did the other thing I do when I don’t know anything—I asked someone who does.  Enter Jenn.  She gave me the links to the best community sites, the feeds for the best newsletters, some great advice, and the thing I needed most.  Encouragement.

I reviewed the information she gave me, and felt impossibly overwhelmed.  What if I bid on a job and they PICKED me?!?  What would I do?!?  It seems pretty elementary as to what one would do, but I was terrified of being exposed as the fraud I believed myself to be.  I could see the others splashing around, but I was still watching from behind the gate.

Shortly after that, my sister came to visit and we talked about my new venture.  She is a magazine editor, and, although we share DNA, she has never held punches when critiquing my work.  I confessed my fear, and she said, “Look at me.” I did.

“You can write.”

“But…”

“You can write.”

“And what if…”

“You can write.”

“But I’m not…”

“YOU. CAN. WRITE.  Now go do it.”

And so, I walked up to the shallow end and stuck my toe in the water.  I developed a LinkedIn profile and set up an eLance account (though I’ve yet to take that preposterous test). Under the “occupation” heading, I typed, “p-h-a-r-m-a-c-i-s-t.”  Then I erased it and brazenly proclaimed, “freelance writer.” 

I began submitting queries and bids for jobs that captured my interest.  Most of them are medical/science gigs, since that is an area of comfort and confidence for me.  A few have just been for generic “writer wanted,” for this or that web article, and even a few have been “dream-print” opportunities such as short-fiction or narratives.  The shallow-end is peaceful, and I let the water lap at my knees.

So far, I’ve gotten one from LinkedIn but it was writing for scientific journals.  Which, on my list of ass-drag writing assignments, is number two.  (Number one is pets.)  Other than that, I’ve received ZERO inquiries.

My internal naysayer shouts Get out! Get out of the water!  She’s a real pain in the ass, that one. You’re just going to sink. Give up.  Not supportive at all.  You don’t belong.  Look at the diving board.  You’ll never stand up there.  My God, she’s loud.  But I’m learning to tune her out. 

Because I can write.

And I’m not going to sink.  Nobody sinks in knee-deep water.   I’m just going to move forward, my feet sliding across the slick liner inches at a time until my toes curl on the sloped edge of the deep. 

And one day, when my chocolate falls into the right jar of peanut butter, I’ll be swimming in offers.

For now, I’m getting some great practice just holding my breath.