Archive for March, 2009

Waiting for Your Big Break?

Tuesday, March 31st, 2009

Me, too.  Of course, the older I get, the bigger the break needs to be for me to be impressed by it.  When I was first starting out, I just wanted someone – anyone! – to publish an essay or a story that I’d written.  Then I wanted someone to publish my book.  Then my next book.  Then I wanted to be published by a big New York publisher.  I wanted to go on a book tour and be quoted in a national magazine.  Then I wanted someone to publish my novel. 

 

All of those things happened, and I’m still waiting for my big break.  Which means either I’m ungrateful, I’m a loser, I’ve forgotten what a big break is, or I’ve learned something interesting about the nature of goals and possibly the nature of success.

 

I think most writers, in the back of their minds, have a scenario that they’d like to live, and it runs roughly like this: they write a book, it gets published, Oprah and The New York Times love it, they sell a bazillion copies and buy a castle in France.  That is what we consider a big break.

 

But the reason we’re eager for our big break is not because of the castle in France (or not only because of the castle in France) but because we want our work to be recognized and appreciated.  Because we want to keep on doing it.  This is in stark contrast to most people doing most work. 

 

There are so many reasons for us to give up.  The rent, for example: that’s due tomorrow and it needs to be paid.  Most of us have a day job to facilitate that process, and most of us would like to give that day job up but can’t, not until we get our big break.  And there are other reasons: the rejection letters that pile up in our inboxes and mailboxes, the queries that never even merit a response, the lack of validation for something so deeply important to us.

 

Which means we need to honor the breaks we get even when they don’t include a castle in France.  We need to recognize what a big deal it is to have an essay published, even if it is the fifteenth one; we need to celebrate an editor writing to encourage us despite rejecting the current work at hand; we need to see that a big break – being able to do this work all our lives – is the culmination of a lot of littler things along the way.  Even, maybe especially, the fact that we sat down and wrote something today, even if there was no guarantee of any reward.   

Things that make me smile

Monday, March 30th, 2009

Received this notice in my inbox:

“Dalai Lama (OHHDLInfo) is now following your updates on Twitter.”

I realize this is only because I’m following him, not because he’s hoping to gain insight from my tweets, but still, it makes me smile.

And if you’d like to follow me, I’ll follow you:  www.twitter.com/JenniferLawler

Why We Should Stop Being So Judgmental

Monday, March 30th, 2009

As a woman of sense and discernment – that is, I am highly opinionated and not afraid of sharing my opinions with anyone who’ll hold still long enough to listen – I sometimes find myself moving from the “I know what I like and I’m voting for it” democracy to the “Everyone should like what I like” dictatorship without always realizing I’m crossing the line. 

 

Since I try not to be a jerk any more than I have to in order to get along in contemporary society, it bothers me when I unthinkingly became Dictator Jennifer.  Certainly there are situations no one should tolerate, but really, in the course of a given day, how often do these occur?  And how often are we instead judgmental and super-critical when we don’t need to be?  So in the interest of world peace and universal harmony, I’ve been trying to be more mindful of this, and to bring consciousness to these kinds of reactions when I have them.  (Cue “Kumbaya.”)

 

But the other day, I found an even better reason not to judge others (yes, even better than world peace and universal harmony).  Here’s what happened.  I was on my way to run errands when I saw, at the corner of two main streets, a woman in a bathrobe and bunny slippers walking two rambunctious dogs.  At noon on a Sunday!  I sniffed to myself, “What on earth is she doing still in her bathrobe at this time of day?  And doesn’t she know how to teach a dog how to heel?”

 

Then I remembered that it was my week to be mindful, so I looked at the woman again, with a kinder, more compassionate heart, and I thought, “Oh my god, this would make a great opening scene for my next novel.”

 

That, my friends, is why we should stop being so judgmental: story ideas!

Q&A with . . .

Saturday, March 28th, 2009

Randy B. Hecht is a journalist who works in English and Spanish for publications in the US, Latin America and Japan. As founder of Aphra Communications, she works with partner Alex Talavera on multi-lingual, multi-cultural research and publishing projects.

Q: This is the second time you’ve tried freelancing.  What happened the first time, and what made you decide to give it a try the second time?

I freelanced part-time for six years during my 20s, when the majority of my income came from working three days a week on-site for a company that provided me with health insurance and pro-rated holiday, vacation, and other benefits. The structure gave me a great opportunity to explore a variety of areas of our business, but at the same time, it put me at a disadvantage in that I wasn’t forced to take responsibility for the marketing and management that ultimately spell a company’s survival or failure. If you’re self-employed, it’s essential that you maintain an equilibrium between having a certain number of “anchor clients” and not relying too heavily on any one source of income, because if that one source of income disappears, it can take your company’s viability with it. That’s what happened to me the first time around: I was laid off, the US was in an economic downturn, and freelancing was no longer sustainable for me.

Oddly enough, I planned my first freelancing career and did not plan my second. In 2001 the investor relations PR firm where I was vice president-communications reduced its workforce by 16%. There were two dedicated writers on staff, I was the one with less tenure, and that was that. I was offered a position that was slated to begin in September of that year. I had started doing some freelance work that summer just to keep myself busy until the new job started, but after September 11 and its economic impact, freelancing became my only career option.

Q: You learned Spanish as a second language.  Can you tell us when and how you learned and what made you decide to incorporate a second language as part of your career?

I studied Spanish from seventh through tenth grades, but foreign languages are taught in US schools almost as if the goal is to make sure students don’t learn to converse. So like most survivors of that system, I knew a lot of words but didn’t know how to use them to communicate well or naturally with native Spanish speakers. Still, during a trip to Ecuador when I was 40, I was determined to at least try to speak Spanish, and the Ecuadorans overwhelmed me with their praise of my fumbling attempts. They made me want to get it right, and I decided during that trip that I’d study the language again. Then I got home and found the key to becoming fluent in the most unexpected of places: one of the souvenirs of my trip, a compilation CD of Latin American music that include three tracks by a Chilean singer I’d never heard of before named Alberto Plaza. I was so taken by his voice that I became determined to buy some of his CDs, which at the time were not sold in the US—so I contacted his office to ask if someone there could refer me to a store in Santiago that would ship to New York. What I didn’t know at the time was that my inquiry made a huge impression on Alberto, who couldn’t believe he’d scored a native English speaking fan. One thing led to another, and 18 months later we met in Santiago. We’ve been friends ever since, and he in turn introduced me—first virtually, and later in real life—to friends of his throughout South America, including Alex Talavera of Santa Cruz, Bolivia, who ultimately became my partner in Aphra Communications. I finally became truly bilingual through a combination of study, conversation with my network of new friends, and working hard to understand the lyrics to Alberto’s songs.

That said, when all this began, I never expected that I would find myself in just a matter of years working as a journalist for newspapers and magazines in Mexico and Colombia. My first publication in Spanish was the product of a dare from my Spanish instructor, Andres Pardo. One week, my homework assignment was to write a business letter. I wrote a query to the editor of a small magazine in Oaxaca, Mexico. Andres told me he wanted me to send the letter to the editor. I told him he was crazy. We must have argued about it for six weeks before one day I decided, what the hell, it’s not like the editor is going to give me the assignment. I sent the query by email essentially to shut Andres up. Twelve hours later, I had an assignment. The article was published roughly 18 months after I got home from Ecuador, and 18 months after that first article saw print, I published a full-page article in a daily newspaper in Guadalajara.

Q: How has being able to read, write and speak Spanish affected your career?

I’ve been very fortunate to have developed the right skills at the right time. With an increasingly global economy and a growing population of Spanish speakers here in the US, it’s very helpful to be able to work in both languages. My favorite example of how these things all come together involves my entry into the Japanese market. A few years ago, a Mexico City company decided to open a franchise in Tokyo, and Wingspan, the in-flight magazine of All Nippon Airways, wanted to cover the story in its English language section. So they needed a native English speaking writer who had contacts in Mexico and could conduct interviews in Spanish, and I was recommended to the editor by one of his freelancers, a US-born lawyer who at the time was living in Saipan. The world is very small, and you can walk through a lot of doors in a lot of far-flung places if you just know how to knock.

Q. Your personal life has also been changed because of your interest in Latin American culture.  Can you share a few details about what you might have missed if you hadn’t gone down this road?

The biggest personal gain for me has been my friendships, above all my friendship with Alex, his family, and the children in the orphanage we’ve “adopted” in Santa Cruz, Bolivia. Alex was already volunteering at and making donations to the orphanage when we first met, and at the time I thought he was good-hearted but misguided, because I’ve always concentrated my charitable donations on organizations that help people move beyond the need for charity. The orphanage is underfunded and so has to rely on private donations to buy many essentials that aren’t covered in its budget, and I argued that Alex’s financial support helped to perpetuate the need for charity. His response was, yes, but the children have no milk. Before I knew it, we were buying Christmas presents for 35 children. Then I met those children, and if I had any resistance at all left against Alex, they obliterated it. Since then, we’ve been buying not only their Christmas presents each year, but also some of their monthly basics, including milk, and my perspective has changed a bit. I still prefer to support organizations that give people the tools they need to become economically independent. But one Christmas I was looking at photos of the kids, and I commented to the orphanage’s social worker on how much taller they were than when I’d seen them, and she replied, yes, well, they’re getting milk every day now, aren’t they? Lesson learned: sometimes a glass of milk is a revolution—it won’t change the world, but it can change the world for one child. We have bigger ambitions. We’d like to fund university educations for as many as we can afford to help. But in the mean time, we can help them grow bigger and stronger, physically and emotionally.

 Q.  What do you like most about being who you are right now, where you are right now?

I’ll turn 50 this year. My 40s gave me probably the greatest gift of my life: the knowledge that whatever stage of life you’ve reached, you may not have discovered all of yourself yet, and you may have talents that have yet to reveal themselves to you. The funny thing is, the year I went to Ecuador, my original plan was to travel to Alaska with a friend who wound up unable to go. A chance encounter with a travel brochure made me shift gears (it’s not like I went to the Pacific coast and mistakenly turned left where I was supposed to turn right). If I hadn’t gone to Ecuador, hadn’t chanced embarrassing errors in Spanish, hadn’t bought that CD that introduced me to Alberto’s music, the entire decade would have unfolded differently and I’d be someone else entirely today. So I’ve learned to stay open to new experiences and opportunities, to be willing to take risks, to walk down unfamiliar paths for no more reason than that it feels like that’s what I should be doing. That makes growing older incredibly exciting, because it makes every day of your life a search for the answer to the best of all questions: I wonder what’s going to happen next? I don’t know what the answer will be in the coming decade, but I am confident that I’ll have a lot of fun finding out.

Too many choices

Friday, March 27th, 2009

The other day I was at the grocery store trying to buy some salad dressing. You’d think this would be a fairly straightforward task: pick the type of dressing (ranch, Italian) and the brand (Kraft, Newman’s Own) and put it in your cart. But as I stood there staring at the vast array of possibilities – regular, low-fat, organic, lite, fat-free, garlic, spring onion, extra thick (and that was just one brand of ranch dressing!) – I had the overwhelming desire to buy none, and so I did.

I’m not the first person to remark on the problem of too many choices, but I thought it made sense to talk about it here since I’ve spent a couple of blog posts talking about how we often think we have too few choices.

What struck me about this endless aisle of glittering salad dressing bottles was I had just come from the beverage aisle, where I had failed to find any palatable hot chocolate mix. I know I can make my own, and I have, but I don’t like my version as well as I like the Ghirardelli mix, which I used to be able to buy at World Market, but now no longer can, since they stopped carrying it. So I stood in the grocery store aisle, perusing my options, perfectly willing to try another brand but unable to do so since there really weren’t any choices. I don’t think any chocolate you mix with hot water counts as a drinkable beverage, and that immediately let out Swiss Miss and the store brand. (Let me just say that my daughter is a fervent aficionado of Swiss Miss, so it’s just me, not the brand.) Those were my choices: Swiss Miss and the store brand. This in the same grocery store with at least 157 different kinds of salad dressing.

I’m assuming there’s a reason for this – people buy more salad dressing than hot chocolate mix, for example – but I was so annoyed by the whole process that I wanted to abandon everything in my cart and just let someone else deal with it. Unfortunately, there is no one else to deal with grocery shopping at my house (if I left it to Jess, we’d live on ice cream and burritos.)

Why was I so frustrated? The main problem was that I had to spend so much time in consideration of two small items on my grocery shopping list — a shopping list that probably had thirty things on it. If I had to negotiate every single item like this, it would take me the whole day, and I still wouldn’t get what I wanted (such as drinkable hot chocolate mix.)

One of the reasons people fall into habits is because it cuts out all of the decision-making. If I always get organic Newman’s Own ranch, then I just have to reach for it on the shelf and not even think about it.

But at the same time, not even thinking about it is the kind of lack of consciousness, lack of mindfulness that I try not to spend too much time doing. Auto-pilot may help me get dressed in the morning without dithering too much about whether I should shower first or brush my teeth, but if I just zone out the vast majority of my day instead of consciously choosing and deciding, that’s not a good solution either.

I don’t have an answer to this dilemma, which is why several times a month I stare at the salad dressing aisle and go home without anything to put on my romaine.

Compiling a 100 choices list

Thursday, March 26th, 2009

Here’s an example of the “100 Choices” list I mentioned in my last post. The question I used to get things started was, How can I make money this year? (I did in fact leave off the illegal/immoral possibilities, such as selling crack cocaine from my living room):

query my favorite magazine editors
query magazine editors I’ve never worked with before
query magazine editors everyone hates to work with
pitch a book idea to a former editor
pitch a book idea to an editor I’ve never worked with
pitch a book reprint to a current publisher
coach writers who are trying to write a book proposal
coach writers who are trying to write a book
coach professionals (who aren’t writers) who are trying to write a book
ask colleagues for referrals to people in need of writing/editing services
do developmental editing for a book publisher
do copy editing for a book publisher
write (and sell!) essays or other creative non-fiction
write (and sell!) short stories
get a part-time job at the coffee shop I frequent
get a part-time job somewhere else
get a staff job anywhere that’ll hire me
get a staff job with an organization that has a progressive and flexible work environment
work as an independent contractor for an organization that ditto
sell some of the things cluttering up my closet on craigslist
organize a community-wide garage sale and sell some of the things cluttering up my closet
sell my blood plasma
become a paid medical guinea pig
sell ad space on my blog
sell ad space on my website
sell ad space on my car
sell ad space on my t-shirt
make the kid get a paper route
get a paper route of my own
start baby-sitting for neighbors
start an online business selling ebooks
start an ebay business selling garage sale finds
sell all the books I’ve read and will never re-read to the used book store
hire on as a field hand
write complaint letters for frustrated consumers
write ad copy for frustrated corporations
write business plans for all the people I know who want to start a bar or restaurant
write business plans for all the people I know who want to be writers
offer research services to writers I know
fail to pay my taxes and get a job in the Obama administration (sorry, couldn’t resist)
run for elected office and get voted in
grow flowers in my backyard and sell them at the local farmers’ market
grow peppers in my backyard and ditto (these are the only two things I know how to grow)
take in laundry
take in sewing
claim the forty million dollars that’s waiting for me in a bank account in Nigeria
spam everyone I know with ads for Viagra or hot girlz. Someone has to be spending money on these things, right?
send letters of introduction to custom publishers offering to write what needs written
teach an English class as an adjunct
teach an Art Center class
teach an online class for a university
teach an online class that I devise
join the circus the way mom always threatened to do
raise chickens and sell the eggs
raise chickens and sell the chickens
bake cookies and sell them at the local coffee shop
start a local coffee shop
write “sample” term papers
become a mystery shopper
sell craft items at county fairs
sell my soul – oops, already did that
sign on as crew for a cruise ship
give psychic readings
write a best-selling novel
write two best-selling novels
build a better mousetrap
speculate on real estate – oops, too late for that
enter wet t-shirt contests
get paid not to enter wet t-shirt contests
teach other people how to sew
teach other people how to bake
since I’m so retro, I could be a home-ec teacher, fer cryin’ out loud
teach a martial arts class
start a martial arts school
teach self defense lessons
become a famous columnist
become a less-famous but still well-compensated columnist
write a screenplay that gets optioned
write two screenplays that get optioned
teach other writers how to pitch their ideas
speak at conferences and conventions
become a guest lecturer at Yale
become a guest lecturer at anywhere that’ll hire me
give seminars and talks
give podcasts and make people pay for them
write for all the organizations that think I should write for the exposure (i.e., free) and find out if you can live on nothing but good vibes
ghostwrite articles for business people
ghostwrite books for famous people
ghostwrite books for non-famous people
work with non-native speakers of English
learn another language and become a translator
learn a skill I don’t already have and do that
get an MBA and become a business consultant
write profiles for corporate websites
write anything for corporate websites
write anything for websites
write anything for corporations
become a life coach
become a life coach coach
become a coach

About the 100 choices list

Thursday, March 26th, 2009

When you’re trying to solve a problem, you have to ask the right question. For the 100 choices list I posted yesterday, I began by thinking about how all of us could probably use a few extra bucks about now.

I posed the problem this way: How can I make money this year as a freelancer despite the state of the economy?

The first thing you’ll notice is that I limited the problem in a way that limits my options. If I want to make more money as a freelancer, then I’m not going to be looking for a staff job. In some ways, this thinking is useful, because it clarifies what I want, not just what I’m willing to settle for. But at the same time, it might rule out some potentially good answers, such as finding a staff job with flexibility, so that I get some of the benefits of being a freelancer (being able to take an afternoon off when I need to) with some of the benefits of employment (regular, reliable income).

Also, adding the disclaimer “despite the state of the economy” makes the situation seem dire. But the state of the economy simply means I need to be more creative in my thinking, not that it’s impossible for me (or you) to make more money this year.

So I decided to recast the problem in a way that’s less restrictive and allows for freer thinking: How can I make money this year?

You could argue that I could reframe the question in another way, such as How can I meet my financial obligations this year? because some options would come up (such as moving to a less expensive house) that don’t turn up in answer to the question How can I make money this year? That’s a valid argument, and one answer is to create a list of various questions that get at the issue of making ends meet and then create a list of 100 options for each of those questions. But I’m not going to do that right now because it would make my head explode.

Paper or plastic?

Wednesday, March 25th, 2009

I’m paying for a handful of groceries when the cashier asks, “Paper or plastic?” I open my mouth to answer when it occurs to me that the answer isn’t “paper” or “plastic,” it’s “neither.” I can carry what I have in my hands.

This gets me to thinking about how often we set up our choices this way, as if there were only two options, when there might be three or fifteen. Follow your dreams or follow the money? Go to college or get a job? Yet there is nothing intrinsically dichotomous about such choices. You can go to college and get a job. I know I did.

By the same token, sometimes we think there’s only one choice, or really no choice at all: “This is the only job I’ve been offered in six months of looking, so I have to take it.” The truth is, you don’t have to take it at all. You have other options: going broke, or living in your car, or starting up a meth lab in your basement. I agree that these last few options aren’t good ones, but they exist. My point is, we have to understand what our options really are in order to make informed choices, in order to choose the best answer for our particular circumstances. Breaking out of the habit of mind that recognizes only a few possibilities allows us to see the wide variety of solutions available to deal with any problem.

For example, if going broke is on the horizon, maybe you can sell your second car, borrow money from your aunt, start an online business, volunteer to be a medical study subject, or move in with your old college roommate. When we get trapped in “either-or” thinking, we stop being able to see the more creative or pleasing choices that exist.

An exercise I often recommend when facing the tendency to create “either-or” options is to make a list of 100 — that’s right, one hundred — choices, no matter how silly, unlikely or uninteresting they are. By moving past the first superficial few answers, you can often discover more appealing alternatives.

Choosing the path

Tuesday, March 24th, 2009

When I began training in martial arts, it meant a whole new life for me. It meant I gave up smoking and cut back on drinking and watched what I ate and worked out every night. All of these were good things and I felt positive about them. It was just that sometimes I missed the old life. I missed loafing around in the evenings instead of working out. I missed scarfing down a huge tub of buttered popcorn while watching the matinee. All this being good to myself was sometimes, frankly, a little restrictive. I’d sling my gear bag over my shoulder on my way to train, and I’d lock the front door, thinking how much fun it would be just to put my feet up, pop open a wine cooler, and chat with friends.

This tendency to look back on the way my life used to be and to wax nostalgic about it nearly derailed my martial arts training before it got off the ground.

I related this challenge to one of the black belts early in my training, and she looked at me and said, “Stop looking back.”

Just that. Made perfect sense to me. I had chosen a new path, and it was time to look forward, to see where it was leading me, instead of focusing on where it was taking me from.

The same holds true for writers. Once you’ve chosen the path–you’ve committed to being a writer and you have a plan for making it come true–don’t look back. Don’t think about how much easier it was before you started devoting your evenings to writing. Think only about how the time spent writing is rewarding and enjoyable now and will yield even greater rewards for you in the future.

In other words, choose the path, then concentrate on the present and let the past go.

On choosing

Monday, March 23rd, 2009

The other day, I was complaining to a friend of mine that the problem with being a neurotic writer is that neurotics hate uncertainty – we’d rather hear “no” than “I don’t know yet” – and writers live in a constant state of uncertainty. You send your book or your pitch or your proposal out into the world, and days, weeks or months later you might hear back. Or you might not. You don’t know if your email or your snail mail was received, if the right person received it, if your ideas are under consideration or taking up residence in the circular file.

In the past few months, I’ve followed up on a couple of projects that have been out with various editors for more than 30 days. In one case, the editor was interested in the project but was getting someone else to take a look, which was good news. In another case, the editor rejected the material but hadn’t bothered informing me. In yet another case, the follow-up was ignored just as the original contact was. So it’s impossible to know when you’re waiting what anything means: it could be good news or bad news or who knows? news.

What does this have to do with making choices? Obviously, we can, to some extent, choose how we’re going to respond to events. A rejection can leave you curled up on the bed whimpering, or it can be some feedback that you consider while you send your work on to the next person on your list. (I’ve responded both ways and I like the second way better, I just don’t always choose it). But in addition to choosing how we respond to events, we can also choose how we frame the event in the first place. In other words, a rose by any other name is *not* a rose (sorry, Bill).

This came home to me when I was doing my afore-mentioned complaining. “I can’t stand it,” I wailed to my friend. “I hate uncertainty and I’m in the one profession in the world where the only thing I can count on is uncertainty. Will my royalty check come on time, will I sell the next proposal, will the editor who loved my last three essays love this one, too? Will I ever have another book idea, will my coaching clients find my feedback useful or will they say mean things about me to all their friends? I dwell in uncertainty!” (I get a little worked up over things on occasion.)

I paused long enough to catch my breath and then a phrase from an Emily Dickinson poem floated into my brain (I can’t help it, I’m a former English major. When it’s not Emily Dickinson, it’s an Anglo-Saxon scōp or Andrew Marvell.) “I dwell in Possibility,” she wrote. And I thought, “That’s it! That’s how I need to think about my life and my career. It’s not uncertainty, it’s possibility!” And remarkably, that thought cheered me right up. Now whenever I start to feel a little anxious, I try to frame my feeling as excitement over possibilities rather than apprehension over potential failures.

Your assignment: Look up Dickinson’s #657 and spread wide your narrow hands to gather Paradise.