Follow That Detour!

One of the interesting things that have come out of working for the newspaper is how an assignment can morph.

An event is about X, and I start mulling it over and thinking about what angle I’m going to take on it.  Since I have to get it written and submitted the same day, I don’t have a lot of

time to get it done, so I try to map it out in my head as much as possible.

What happens is I’ll get to where I need to go, and start chatting with people and asking questions, and a new angle will unexpectedly present itself, or someone will come up to me with “Did you know that…” and suddenly I've detoured into a whole different story.

It’s one of the things I’ve come to enjoy the most in writing for the newspaper.  It’s also happened with some of my Tractor Supply pieces.  An interviewee gave me so much good, interesting information, that I was able to glean two separate articles out of it, on two different topics.  That was a win-win. 

Experiencing this has helped me to keep more of an open mind on things.  I tend to be rigid; I like routines and expectations, and there’s a lot of good in that because stuff gets done.

But it also blocks opportunities for new experiences and things I may not have thought of before.  Now when I go to do a story, I’ll have the foundation of what I’m going to cover, as I still do my homework, but I stay much more open to let the story evolve the way it wants to.  I listen to people more, and I try to pick up on their cues as to what is really pertinent.

A story on the White Water Derby in North Creek took on the angle of the volunteers necessary to make it all happen.

Covering the groundbreaking of a Habitat for Humanity build became an informative piece on how the process actually works.

The Young Eagles Weekend showed me how an aircraft group, through it's selflessness and generosity, could share its enthusiasm for the sport of flying with local kids, free of charge.  

I tend to use Larry as my gauge.  If, after reading my story in Sunday’s paper, he says “I didn’t know that,” then I know I’ve done a good job.  It doesn’t happen every time, but more often than not I’m successful.  And that’s what I should be striving for – to tell people something they didn’t know. 

My stories are on the short side, as they’re community pieces as opposed to full-blown features.  They’re supposed to be about 300-350 words, but my awesome editor Adam usually lets me go longer if there’s room.

A time when that backfired was when I covered the Fall LARAC Fair.  In trying to come up with a different angle for this long-running event, I had the brainstorm of asking numerous vendors how they got started, what they liked about doing the circuit, what they disliked, advice they would give to people wanting to get started, almost like a how-to piece.  I was pretty pleased with myself for coming up with this, and had a microcassette full of good stuff.  After I transcribed my first draft, I emailed Adam and asked how much space I could have, as I had a lot of great material.  He came back with “Keep it on the short side, we’re tight on space.”  Argh!! 

My whole format was blown out of the water.  I had to slash and burn mercilessly (which, normally, is a healthy editorial thing to do), and ended up with a fraction of what I had started out with.  Oh well.

Life morphs, too, as I’ve learned in spades the last few years.  The track you plan on isn’t necessarily the one you stay on, and that’s okay.  Sometimes you just need to listen more, and follow the unexpected detour that presents itself.

Changing Horses in Mid Life

Welcome to the inaugural post of My Freelancing Fifties, a self-indulgent blog of my terrified musings as a newly launched full-time freelance writer!

As of the end of business on December 31, 2014, I left the safety and security of my 8-year stint as a legal secretary in my small town to pursue my writing on a full-time basis.  I’ll be right back after I have an anxiety attack.

This decision wasn’t made hastily.  I liked my day job, for the most part.  It had given me the opportunity to get to know everybody in town, and to know interesting and sometimes unsavory things about them, and, as my mother said about her career as a legal secretary, “where the bodies are buried.”

I did some writing in high school, interning for The Saratogian Newspaper in high school and learning some hard lessons in the summer of my junior year at The Spa City Spectator, a little weekly independent.  I idolized my older cousin Marianne, a bona fide writer who went to college and everything, who wrote for NBC’s kid’s program Hot Hero Sandwich in the late 70’s.  She sent me a press kit, and I felt like I had entered the inner sanctum.

But life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans, especially if you’re not paying attention.  I got married, had a baby, got divorced, then played that trifecta again.  During that time and beyond, I worked primarily in the secretarial and its peripheral fields.  I was good at these jobs.  I was organized, efficient, a self-starter.  Some of these jobs sucked and a couple were wonderful, with coworkers who were and continue to be blessings in my life.  I did interesting things like work in strategic planning, domestic violence and a very brief stint in a veterinary office. 

All the while, I dabbled with my writing, doing a stray article here and there.  I finally met a wonderful man who thought I was the greatest thing since sliced bread AND wasn’t a flake.  He encouraged me to keep writing.  I had my arsenal of excuses – no time, no college, no internet, no talent – and didn’t hesitate to use them to keep myself down.

Then a couple of years ago, two friends (one a life coach, the other a yoga instructor) approached me about doing a writing component at a women’s retreat they were organizing.  In my brain, this smacked of validation, even though I kept asking myself why they thought I of all people had anything to offer.  (Thankfully, self deprecation gets old, and eventually you stop.) 

Planning for the retreat, and working with these awesome people, got me thinking in different directions.  It was empowering and fun.  But it wasn’t something I could pay my bills by doing.

I sent out some letters of inquiry to publications I liked and thought I could contribute to, kinda knowing what I was doing.  Almost a year after sending one out to a national quarterly I admired, the editor called me out of the blue, asking if I’d be interested in an assignment.  I was on cloud nine, then realized I had to actually write the thing.

Bella, my Gray Muse

I hammered out the article, angst ridden, completely unsure of my capabilities.  My husband walked in the door and cheerfully asked “How’s it going?”  I went into a tirade of “I don’t know what I’m doing!  I’m never going to get this done in time!  Why did I think I could do this?  I suck!!”

But I did get it done, and submitted on time.  I bit my nails waiting to hear back from the editor, expecting her to berate me on my crappy writing until I peed myself like a puppy backed into a corner.

Instead, she wrote back with “Very nice job on the story.  I appreciate it when a writer delivers exactly what I’ve asked for.”

I suddenly had some traction. 

In February I contacted a small local weekly newspaper about doing some freelance work for them.  I excitedly read their reply about how sure, we’d love to have you do freelance work for us, here are our guidelines, yadda yadda.  Oh, and we don’t pay freelancers, thanks!

That was a turning point for me.  Yes, I’ve read where it’s good karma to write for organizations, especially nonprofits, for free; it helps them and it helps you, professionally and cosmically.  But I made a decision that day that, unless it was my idea, I didn’t work for nothing.  What I did, what I offered had value.  Plus I had bills to pay.  I wasn’t going to give away the store.

Two weeks later, I responded to an ad in a daily newspaper with a sizeable circulation that was looking for freelancers.  They called, I interviewed, I left with my first paying assignment.

There’s your karma.  Now I had momentum, too.

I suddenly had tight deadlines.  I didn’t have the luxury of a couple of weeks or more to put a story together, massaging it until it was just right.  It was more like a couple of hours.  And it made me a better writer. 

When I had another magazine article assignment a couple of months after starting the newspaper work, I completed it in half the time of the first one, with fewer revisions.  My hourly rate suddenly jumped exponentially.

It’s true that once you put your nose to the grindstone, the universe will start to open up.  Yeah, you have to make your intentions known and all that stuff, but it’s doing that work that brings in the real opportunities. 

In September, I made the conscious decision to leave my day job and try to support myself from my writing.  I’ve done my best to set myself up for success:  I’ve bankrolled some cash to get me through the first couple of months of bills, I’ve reduced my expenses as much as possible, I’ve established a strong network of professional colleagues, and I’ve put myself in the mindset that I will make this work.  I’m not adverse to working part-time somewhere if I need to at some point. 

At 51 years of age, I’m finally making my career move.  I’m not some kid fresh out of college.  I’ve got some miles on me, some – let’s say – perspective.

Through this blog, I’m inviting you to join me as I continue to figure things out.  There will be a fair amount of blood, sweat and tears along the way, and laughs as well. 

Welcome to My Freelancing Fifties!

Getting gutsy is all about stepping outside your comfort zone to reach your goals and live a life that makes you truly happy. This post is my entry for Jessica Lawlor’s Get Gutsy Essay Contest. To get involved and share your own gutsy story, check out this post for contest details and download a free copy of the inspiring Get Gutsy ebook.