From Bunny Slippers to Business Plans
Back in April, I posted a monster roundup of the 20 books I built my freelance life upon. Readers (and writers, obvs) were quick to point out that I had made an egregious omission by not including Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird.
The truth is, I had plumb forgot about it because, long ago, I lent my copy to someone else, and it was never returned.
Recently, I bought myself a new copy, and immediately fell in love all over again.
Earlier this week, I bared it all in an essay I wrote for Nerve, on my experiences posing for a nude portrait.
Its publication was a long time coming: I first faced my fears by stripping down for a complete stranger, and then did up my essay in a frenzy of excitement and inspiration.
It was considered “too flippant,” and “not revelatory enough.” I rewrote it.
It was considered “too dark.” I rewrote it.
Nerve then got a new CEO, and my editors told me they were uncertain my essay would ever be published, because of the site’s possible new editorial direction.
I tried not to freak out.
Finally, it went up, slightly truncated. The entire process was far more traumatic than actually getting naked.
When I first started writing personal essays, I felt that nothing could be easier — or more fun — than writing about yourself. After the jump, find the reasons that baring it all (in writing) can be tougher than you think.
[Photo via]
It can be tough to make money when you have a conscience.
Over the weekend, I asked tweeters whether they thought their feelings toward a manuscript’s subject matter subconsciously affected the way in which they edited it. I was slogging my way through a particularly arduous manuscript, and the contents weren’t helping matters. “You’re getting a paycheck,” my husband told me when I complained.
True enough. But have you ever found yourself turning down a project because of personal biases? Or turning down advertising dollars or freebies because you couldn’t bring yourself to endorse a profuct or service?
After the jump, various sources of freelance-y moral crossroads:
[RCA Rp5022 64 Mb Voice Recorder With Usb, $19.98, Amazon]
[Olympus TP-7 Telephone Recording Device, $17.71, Amazon]
I’ve been doing a lot of interviews lately and, to get the job done, I’ve been using the items above.
My voice recorder (new versions are available) has a ton of storage place, allows me to place markers within my sound files, and includes a USB port for uploading to my computer. My telephone recording device also works like a charm, one end plugging into my recorder, the other going into my ear, allowing me to record all of my telephone interviews. Both of them being quite cheap, I’d recommend them to any writer on a budget.
But once the interviews are done, the worst part still remains: transcribing.
After the jump, a few resources for those who wish transcribing could be easier, or for those who’d like to outsource it altogether!
I remember how good it felt when I first published this piece on YourTango. Finally, I thought to myself. Something that’s not about sex.
I was reminded of this yesterday, when I appeared on a radio show to talk about the experiences detailed in the article. Near the end of our chat, one of the hosts asked me where listeners could find more of my work. I dutifully rattled off my url.
Afterwards, I panicked. Poop! I thought to myself. When they go to my site, all they’ll find is sex stuff! Is that really all I want to be known for?
After reading a transcript of last week’s editorchat — a Twitter-hosted conversation between writers and editors — I got to thinking about how lucky I was to have had worked on both sides of the fence over the past eight years.
Too often, writers find themselves wondering why in heck editors do the things they do, while editors find themselves wondering the exact same thing about writers.
Knowing how the other side operates — what they’re going through, what their responsibilities are — can foster understanding between the two groups, and help them work together more smoothly.
And so, after the jump, the top 5 things each side wishes the other knew:
I’ve been missing my old writing group.
We met several years ago, in Cris Beam’s From Pitch to Publish Class at New School. For at least a year, the four of us workshopped each others’ pieces, shared contacts, suggested paying markets, and basically gave each other the kicks in the ass we needed.
Eventually, life got busy. One of us moved to Brooklyn. One of us moved abroad. One of us had a baby. And I kept getting promoted at work, a development that forced me to travel more often on business.
I’d love to start a new group. But how? And who?
These past few days, I’ve been struggling with a rewrite ever since and, man oh man, has it been rough.
In honor of my impossible rewrite, I present to you the three toughest parts of that piece you’re writing:
Ever have one of those days where every step of a project feels like pulling teeth?
For me, this usually occurs when I’m working on one of my dating advice columns for Nerve. First, it takes me eons to find enough people willing to participate. And then, when I feel as if I’ve finally overcome all hurdles, and am on the home stretch, my interviewees miss the deadline I’ve given them, or balk at supplying everything they originally agreed to, or just plain flake out.
Earlier this week, I got to try out the Keyboard for Blondes. Tonight, I’m having people over for pizza and premixed shots, also for the purpose of review. Some other test drive products in my queue? Bacon-related products, like canned bacon, Baconnaise, and bacon-flavored lip gloss. Anti-muffin top underpants for men. Flying Wish Paper.
Just for shits and giggles…what’s the kookiest book or other product you’ve received for review in the line of duty?
