Writing Memorable Phrases

Marketing expert Al Ries had an interesting piece in AdAge about some of the techniques that make for good marketing slogans. It seemed to me that the principles would not only apply to headlines and deks, but as ways of putting in the nuggets of memorable writing that can help make an article stick. (To say nothing of getting those doing corporate work to write better slogans.) Here are the techniques he mentioned (though read the article, because the examples are good):

• Rhyme and alliteration Used well, they can make language stick to the mind of the audience.


• Double entendre This is in the literal sense of a double meaning, and not necessarily a sexual double entendre. The tension between the two meanings helps cement the writing.


• Repetition This is a more sophisticated use than literally repeating the same thing. Instead, you use the concept two or three times in a row, underscoring it.


• Reversals This can be in the sense of chiasmus - the rhetorical structure where you use parallel construction but invert or reverse the latter ("Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country") - or a literal melding of opposite mental concepts, like sweet and sour.


• Pass-along phrasing Not only do you want the wording to be memorable - that is, lending itself to unconscious incorporation into memory - but you want it to contain words or concepts that one customer might use to pass on the message to another.

In addition to his strong list, I noticed three other points that I think bear consideration:

• Keep customers close Frame a concept with the customer in mind. Most of the winning slogans he mentioned communicate a vision of something the customer wants: a tractor that keeps running, non-messy chocolate, a newly cleaned drain, the promise of a job, getting your rear out of a sling by knowing the document you send will arrive by the deadline.


• Express big by talking small There is a specificity to the benefit or image that is important. For example, "You deserve a break today" speaks to a small benefit that people would like, and the delivery is an antidote for the larger disappointments of life.


• Specificity The more concrete the imagery, the more powerful the statement. I think that's why the "absolutely, positively" in the FedEx slogan works so well - because it conveys the real need of a member of the audience.

It would have been interesting to see some of the "bad" examples turned around. For instance, the EDS slogan "Expertise. Answers. Results." (which puts all the focus through the first two words on EDS, not their customers) could well have been changed to "Problems. Answers. Profits." or "Problems. Solutions. Pleasure." They aren't brilliant, but at least bring some sense of the customer in.

Distinguishing Between a Story and an Idea

At times I've spoken with colleagues about a common problem for writers: you send a pitch to an editor and get the response, "It's an interesting idea, but there doesn't seem to be a story here." If you've been writing for any length of time, you've heard it. In fact, a friend and I were discussing the very topic the other day, as a newer writer had brought it up in a discussion.

It's a fine point to make, but what, exactly, does it mean? At first glance, this seems to be one of those distinctions that you can't exactly define, but you know it when you see it. However, that helps little when such a comment hits your inbox and you're absolutely convinced that anyone would wait in line to read your opus. A little analytic thought can come in handy at such times:

• There's a difference between something interesting and a story. The latter must encompass the former, certainly; if it's not interesting, who would bother to read it, and what editor would make an assignment?


• Think from the audience viewpoint, not your own. You want to write about things that you find interesting - nothing wrong with that. But unless the topic is interesting to enough people, there is no story that others will read. When considering your idea, ask yourself if you find it interesting because of a personal experience, and then ask how many other people might have had that experience. The question becomes crucial when considering a profile. When relatively few could have the same experience with the subject, then either a) the person must be well enough known to attract curiosity, or b) what you have could only be a personal essay. Yes, you can think of some counter examples, but their number is like unto zero when considering the enormous number of profile pitches that have no relevance to anyone other than the writer.


• A story is compelling. I might be stating the obvious, but a story much have the ability to force the reader - and, by extension, the editor - to care. That means the audience must have either the basic information, the insight, or the emotional experience. A good news story falls completely into the information nook; a tear-jerker narrative is definite an emotional ride. A good philosophical essay must offer the insight, but might bring in an emotional connection. Having at least one factor is a must, and more would be better. People have to give a damn about the read.


• Be specific. Many pitches fail not for lack of a good concept, but because of generality. What is more interesting, noting that children can feel disaffected from step parents, or Hansel and Gretel trying to follow a breadcrumb trail back to the cottage only to find that birds ate their market?


• Have a beginning, middle, and end. No editor worth a drop of ink (or byte of pixels) wants shapeless writing showing up. That means a story must come from one place and have another as its destination, with a clear path leading from A to Z. That's clearly true in a narrative, as tales that go "Someone wandered around and then eventually wandered more" have limited attraction. But there are equivalents for any type of story. Even if you're writing a service piece, with lots of bulleted advice, the writing has to move from a problem, though approaches to solve it, to at least the promise of resolution and aid. Your query should show (not tell) that you address the stages.

Like everyone else in the business, you'll still come up with the occasional commercial clunker, but if you keep these principles in mind, that should happen less often, and you'll also get to the heart of your reporting and writing more naturally and easily.

Michelle Vranizan Rafter's Best Blogs for Writers

Michelle Rafter ran a list of best blogs for writers on her blog, WordCount. Ignoring for a moment her inclusion of my blog, there's a great list of resources, from the mechanics of writing and editing to the freelance business and corporate writing. It's worth putting on your list.

Keeping a Standard

I was talking with a friend and colleague the other day, and we were both shaking our heads at some writers we've heard boast of knocking off a thousand word piece in a very few hours, including interviews and research. Apparently the clients didn't mind, and the results were high hourly rates and, in the case of one, a high annual gross.

I'm all for making money, and I'm all for being efficient. But there is something about the take-two-interviews-and-write-a-thousand-words-by-morning approach that bothers me. I could put it off to jealousy, and yet I don't get that way about some colleagues who I know pull down far more than I do, and yet still undertake what I'd see as a reasonable number of interviews for a single article. (For those doing corporate work, feel free to substitute a lot of interviewing of people in the company and researching the product or service.)

What bothered me, I think, was the process of cutting corners. Writing has to be about more than just making money. If you're interested only in the monetary world, there are many occupations and businesses that can deliver in greater abundance. I've found myself similarly bristling when hearing, "Because I'm only getting paid X, there's only so hard I'm going to work on the assignment."

I really don't get that attitude. If you have a connection to the craft of writing, then you have respect for the process and what it can do. Good writing requires putting the needs of the story and the craft first - while ensuring that you've made arrangements for sufficient remuneration to keep your life from rising up and revolting. (Or so your life isn't revolting, for a different view.) If I've taken a shot at an assignment and it legitimately needs a rewrite, I rewrite. It comes with the territory, and if you're going to spend the time doing something, you might as well be proud of what you have done.

There are secondary business benefits. For example, if you keep hacking through assignments, then your clips will read like hack work, and you'll find it more difficult to land assignments at top publications, or even to muster the writing muscle to tackle various types of articles to your satisfaction. Given the large amounts of snow that have fallen in the last two weeks where I live, I'll use a winter analogy told to me by a pastor. He and his wife lived for years in northern Maine. He remembered their first snow fall there, and he was perplexed to see people plowing not only their driveways, but their entire yards. "I soon learned why," he said. So much snow fell annually that residents had to clear room so by the end of the season, they could still remove the snow from their sidewalks and driveways and have somewhere to put it.

Throughout your career, you need to make room for new techniques and approaches to story telling. When a writer takes the easy way out, he or she is actually only plowing the driveway and not the lawn in those first snowfalls. You become fixed in your approach, because you're now focusing on speed and efficiency, not on quality.

If you care at all about the writing craft, you have to keep reaching to do better, research more deeply, understand more thoroughly. All of this increases your ability to tell a story. To do that, you push aside the old tricks and concepts and keep turning into a wide-eyed student, always trying to grasp what it possible. That way, what you write becomes better and has more substance to it. You may make fewer dollars, but I've found that people who rely on their income as a measure of their self-worth always sound a little hollow. At least in my opinion, that's no way to go through life.

Why Writers Should Seek Payment for Reuse

These days, you'll find many people, from consumers to large corporations, all asking why content providers should get a cut of revenues made off their work. I've recently been involved in some discussions along this line and have found the following points helpful - you might as well:

• This is an issue of ground rules and assumptions. In our society, writing is considered a form of intellectual property because of choice - copyright has not always existed, and when it didn't, the English printed and sold Mark Twain's works without paying him a penny, just as the Americans printed and sold Dickens without royalties. The reason that writing and other forms of creative expression get property protection is that society as a whole sees the need to encourage innovation of many types, but if we say that it's open field day on what people create, many now have an enormous financial disincentive to continue their work. That reduces the benefit to everyone. Now, some people might argue that the periods of protection are too long, and I might agree, but that is a separate argument.


• The reason to let property interests lapse is not so people can take the material as is and make money off it, but to let people build upon what has gone before. Those who focus on wanting free stuff might ask themselves what it would be like to buy a house and then be told that other people would also be making use of it without chipping in on the investment or doing any work of upkeep or maintenance. Yes, a house is tangible, but so what? Are love and hate an illusion because you don't see them floating around in the air?


• There are people who argue that all "content" should be free - whether writing, music, software, or art - and that taking it is ethical. To take someone else's work and to proclaim that it is ethically allowable to copy and sell it, making a profit without their permission and, in fact, in the face of their express disapproval, is just rationalization of an unethical act. Just because you don't like the way your neighbor cuts his lawn doesn't give you the right to tell him how to do it, which is essentially the argument being made with "all content should be free." Some activists think that any control over content prevents free exchange and common work. If someone wants to write open source code or make a book available for free download or turn an artwork into a free image file, that is the person's right. But if I’m putting the effort in to create something, and I’m the one whose business is making the investment to do something, then I'm the one who has control. Why should all my investment be taken out of my hands and given to someone else to profit from it? For the same reason, I cannot tell others not to freely distribute their own creations.


• A large part of the problem is that people often do not distinguish between intellectual property and a product. There is a difference between licensing a use and selling the property. If you rent out your car, you retain ownership and control, even if you allow someone to use it. If you sell some electronic device, the units are the physical property of those who buy them, but those buyers do not necessarily have the right to take the design of the device and incorporate it into something else for profit. When someone brings up the word product, try having them substitute something else, like design or underlying concept or brand or business plan. What makes writing different from many businesses is that it can make possible whole lines of separate income, and what the writer has is the ability to let someone pursue those businesses. The writer licenses an opportunity for a suitable fee.


• Many question why Hollywood writers should keep getting a cut of revenue. That's easy. When you sell copyright, you no longer retain control. However, Hollywood writers are in an odd situation. The only way they generally get to do business is to sell copyright, and yet the industry has long recognized that the writers have a right to ask for continued payments as part of the price of that copyright. In other words, they learned from the vaudeville performers of the early 20th century who allowed their acts to be filmed, receiving a single payment, and then found that no one was willing to pay them to do the same act. They had put themselves out of business. If the studios are not willing to pay the price that the writers think is fair for giving up all control, then the writers have the right to refuse to provide the material.


• If someone brings up the idea of a painting and how the buyer might sell it for more money down the line, you can agree that the painter doesn't get a cut of that money - because in this case, there are two things in question. One is the painting, which is a "product." It's a physical thing and once sold, the painter has no claim on it. But selling a painting does not convey the underlying copyright of the image. The painting's buyer cannot license the use of the image, but the painter still can, because the painter owns the copyright of the image. Similarly, a publisher only buys the use of a piece of writing for a given use. But that doesn't convey - and should not convey - underlying ownership and control of the writing. If that were true, then virtually no publishing venture of any type could exist. The only thing a company could sell would be some supporting services or simple delivery. While this has worked with Linux, given that much creation doesn't come out of groups of people who have full-time jobs, much of the content would be unavailable, because few people would have the resources to spend their time doing something that would pay nothing.

Writers Must Be Reporters

Over time, some colleagues and I have noticed how many freelance writers, who have never worked in more traditional forms of journalism, don't think of themselves as reporters, and that's a pity. In my view, at least, there is an obligation for writers, whose work will appear in newspapers, magazines, and books, to focus on more than just the cleverness of their prose, or the invoice that accompanies it. The heart of any writing is its subject: the story. To get the story right means getting the details right. Not that I'm of the school cheering for mindless piles of verified detail as a form of story in itself. But if someone is going to make claims, then the writer has the obligation to do at least a little verification and apply a modicum of skepticism. When there is a mistake in a story, the writer should take it seriously, and, if the source of the error as gatekeeper, feel he or she let the reader down.

I've recently had the experience of some sources responding to Profnet queries and touting themselves as experts, citing their books. A little investigation showed two being self-published and another the client of a service that helps public speakers produce books to extend their platform. In principle, I have nothing against self-published authors. Many wonderful books had their start that way, and I've seen useful work from people who were truly experts in their fields come out of such production. But that is the exception these days, when people want instant credibility to further their careers. If someone cannot get a traditional publisher to take on a title, you should at least ask why. If not, you act as a PR outlet for the person.

When you blindly note every claim someone makes and one turns out to be wrong, you have two problems. One is that you've shirked your professional duty, and may have ruined your credibility with that publication. The other, as I've seen by friend and colleague Randy Hecht point out, is that you continue developing habits that will keep you from reaching the professional heights you otherwise might.

Debra Cash, a colleague and reader of this blog, had sent me a link about how the contracts for reality television shows can read. The author of the post, Joey Skaggs, is known as a media prankster, undertaking political and social commentary by making reporters look like fools. In his case, at least, he says that every communication he has with reporters contains at least one clue that they are being hoaxed. However, the vast majority of people who want to use you - whether would-be expert or corporation trying to burnish its market image - won't be so intentionally kind. That is why vigilance is the first step toward superior writing. As any chef knows, when the ingredients are good, you're 80 percent of the way to a good meal.

Letting Go of Failure

Every time I run my online planning course, I find at least some participants who get frustrated because they look at where they want their business to be financially and don't see how they can get there from the type of work they currently do. For example, a writer might calculate how many more corporate or editorial assignments they need to add a month and then go into shock over the quantity.


The problem they face is one that many writers have: They don't let go of failure. If you want to progress in anything, whether a skill, an endeavor, or even taking a hike, you have to move in one way or another from where you are to your destination. You cannot stay fast and make any progress. And yet, many of us do exactly that, whether in business, relationships, habits, or even in our aspirations and dreams.


The refrain is something of the frm, "But I can't do that because of this, that, and the other," when said this, that, and other are of your choice and control, and not externally imposed. If you want to make more money in magazine and newspaper writing and you've been writing for publications that pay 25 to 50 cents a word - or less - the answer is clear. You have to start writing for places that pay more and, as you get new clients, stop working for cheapskates.


But the moment you try doing this, you may notice thoughts like, "But I love that editor," or, "It's so easy to get assignments." Brick by brick, you're using your own thoughts and attitudes to build the wall that will encase you where you are. The only solution is to stop defending your previous decisions. You have the right to make a different choice, and you can start doing it today. It will take time to pull away from the old and become established in the new, but it can and will happen - when you stop clutching the bricks in your hands and begin walking in a new direction.

Peter Jacobi Tips on Writing Well

Samir Husni's Mr. Magazine blog has a list of six points on writing well for magazines as suggested by Peter Jacobi, professor emeritus at The University of Indiana. I thought they were interesting, and valuable. Yet, as they say in mathematical circles, they are necessary but not sufficient for good writing. So I thought I'd look at each one:

1. The invitation: the lead or the initial tease; it should even hook the reluctant reader.


2. The thesis: telling the reader what the article is all about, sort of an early summary. Perhaps a response to the readers expectations. - This is the first sales stage of an article. Thought you "don't do" marketing? Oh, yes you do, every single time you write something. There are other pieces in the magazine, other magazines, television, bills, work, family, a book, music - millions of things that can potentially distract the reader. To get people to read your writing, you must interest them. Dont' turn this into a dry formula, where you always use an anecdotal lede or a quote or a question or something clever. This is the highest type of selling you can do, to so thoroughly understand the need of the customer as to present something in a way that compels attention and summons forth interest. Formulas get dull. Putting that need first makes you think, be inventive, and look for the approach that will best work at the intersection of topic, audience, and your own craft.


3. Purpose: the why it is for me “piece of writing.” It is an extended explanation of the purpose of the piece. The purpose must be made evident (another sales pitch). - Yes, a second sales pitch. But this phrasing can be misleading. You can tell someone from here to a week from Wednesday why you do something, but it doesn't matter unless you can show that purpose. You have to make something evident; that is, you must uncover it so that the audience can perceive it. That's different from giving someone a lecture.


4. Direction: you must have a sense of clear direction. Every point along the “verbal highway” must set the course… a crystal clear viewable course…you must write with a compass. - Absolutely fundamental. I find this is often the most time consuming and difficult part of the craft. You can't be concerned only with making a given set of points or observations, or touching on the basic elements of a narrative. How you arrange them will determine where you end up. Writing is like having a series of pipes that run either vertically or horizontally. Send someone up one pipe, over another, and down a third, and it might be as though you had just directed the person directly to the side. Go up one, over, and then up another, and the person is in a completely different place. ask yourself, what do I want to emphasize as the center of the story? What relationships do I wish to show among the story elements? And how do I set direction in a way that brings the audience along without leaving a sense of intellectual lurching or foundering?


5. Propulsion: a sense of motion, going forward. Your writing must have actual movement with pulse and progress. - Stories with no movement are dead. This is like the stereotypical modern short story in which nothing really happens and there is only a tiny denouement, not a satisfying flash of comprehension or insight. Pay as much attention to the rhythm of the words and sentences as to the imagery. Transitions will make or break the attempt to move forward, acting either as conveyor belts or brick walls.


6. Memory: pleasure of reading should be followed by a sense of recalling. Good writing should give me “something to remember.” - This is only possible if there's a strong reason to tell the story in the first place. You have to show that reason throughout the piece if it is to stay with anyone, or all you can achieve is a bit of verbal candy.

Writing and Real Passion

I've heard many writers claim a passion for their work, but in the common use of the word as a heightened emotional state full of excitement. And then they face periods when things are difficult, the assignments come up short, and they go into a funk. I think it's because real passion is something else.

Strong emotion comes and goes in life - often within a matter of minutes, or even seconds. Have you ever found yourself swinging from "love" to "hate" when someone you care about does something you think is mistreatment? Only to feel remorse and self-pity when you decide that you over reacted? Or you're high, sailing on the wind of an assignment, and then falling when you run into difficulties? Now what once was inspirational and energizing is a painful struggle. You wonder if you're really suited to a writing life and figure that if it were that important, you'd feel strongly about it all the time.

But that isn't the case. In fact, the opposite is true. When you have passion for something, you continue pursuing despite emotional roller coasters, not because of them. When your outlook is wonderful, you keep your eye on what you're doing to make sure you don't get sloppy. When things seem bad, you soldier away, knowing that one step still needs to go in front of the other. The ordinary swing of emotions is what keeps you staggering one way and then the next.

Real passion requires a more constant state of commitment and resolve. It's what gets an explorer to the top of a mountain or someone like Michelangelo lying on his back for three years as he painted the ceiling of the Sistene Chapel. Passion has you in your chair day after day, making calls, finding homes for your work, struggling to improve your craft each time you sit down. The image may not be so romantic or enthralling, but the results of regular and constant efforts are far more satisfying.

Technique: Eleven Types of Endings for Non-Fiction Articles

I know many writers, including myself, who spend conspicuous time working on the opening for a given piece of writing. But almost as important, if not as obvious, is the ending. For the readers who make it through the piece, the ending ties things up, helps create a sense of having read something substantial, and helps satisfy the need to hear the entire story. They are also as difficult, if not more so, to write well than ledes. Here are 11 types types - along with some strengths and weaknesses - to inspire some experimentation:

• Kicker - An ironic transition out of the last point or two in the piece. Can be humorous and even make an interesting point, but is more clever than profound.


• Summation - Provide a summary of the article's main point. This offers reinforcement of the most important thing you're trying to convey, but it can seem repetitive and pedantic.


• Take-away - One last point (not the main one) that you want the reader should consider. It provides additional emphasis, but only for those who read to the end. If the point is that important, make it earlier in the piece.


• Circular - You return to the theme of the opening for a sense of thematic closure. It ties things up nicely and delivers a solid feeling of completion, and yet if used badly can leave the reader feeling that nothing has changed.


• Quotation - Uses a quote from an interviewee as a final commentary. Generally carries an emotional weight of a problem that is ongoing. It's a sneaky way of doing a "time will tell" ending without saying that time will tell. Unfortunately, it's over used and may (but not always) leave an editor feeling that you've indulged in cliche.


• Inconclusive - Although popular in modern fiction, this approach leaves things hanging and you guessing as to what happens next. It's similar to the quotation in that it can create the feeling of a situation that is ongoing, with resolution in the distance at best.


• Surprise - More a fictional tool, you might still be able to use it in non-fiction. At the end, something completely unexpected happens. But this is a tough balancing act, because it has to be logical and conclusive at the same time.


• Chronological - If you're writing narrative, you can have the end of the article be the chronological finish of the event or subject. Be aware that you can choose slightly different ending points to create different emotional responses in the reader: irony, disappointment, elation, satisfaction, and so on.


• Abrupt - You would use this in a newspaper, not a magazine, and generally it would be in an inverted pyramid structure, where you make points from opening to closing in their order of perceived importance to the reader. This is fine for the recitation of facts that a hard news article can be, but is not a good fit for anything even slightly more literary.


• Poetic - If you've used rich imagery and a literary tone, you can sometimes go out on an image that becomes a metaphor or visual association you leave with the reader. It's easy to become the "artiste" and call too much attention to your writing style with this one.


• Tagline - Just like it sounds, the tagline is a fixed phrase that you always use. Although it has worked well for some in audio (like Paul Harvey's "Good ... day!"), it has no place in the average article and would often seem strange even in a column.

Selling Articles and Photos

I'm actually writing this at the request of someone on Freelance Success, who had a question about selling photography and writing together to a magazine. The writer/photographer wanted an opinion on the wisdom of selling the two as a package and how to price photos when also writing the story. For example, should you round up the price of the story by 25 cents or 50 cents a word? The person also provides six month rights to photos and then resells them on a web site.

Let's break things down into two areas: payment and rights. Obviously, you want to maximize the pay you get. Remember that the photo department and its budget are usually separate from editorial. It always makes sense, then, to ask the photo department what it would normally pay for images.

Sometime publications will pay a daily rate plus expenses. Some pay by the image. Some have a flat fee in mind for a certain number of images. Generally, the amount is going to be significant in comparison to the writing. I've personally had assignments where the photos paid about as much as the writing did. In the worst case that I can remember, it was still about a third of the fee. There are cases where the photography could run more than the writing.

Only after you've understood the publisher's photo pricing can you know if a bundled price give you more money or less. The publication wants to minimize the total, because then it saves money is is more profitable. You can also reasonably guess that the publication is unlikely to pay you more in total than it might otherwise. Unless you have a sense of how the photo department pays, you won't know if you're maximizing your income. I wouldn't give a break in pricing for getting both parts of the business. By having only one person go to an event, the publisher is already saving on expenses. You want that to be the source of cost reduction.

When you bundle two services together in pricing without explicit acknowledgement of each contribution, you effectively devalue both. If the publication decides to use some extra photos, well, it's already paid for them in the word rate and doesn't need to pay the addition that it might. You've eliminated an argument for getting a future rate increase because the editor thinks that should include something additional - more photography. But for all you know, some writers might already get a higher per word fee than you.

Now lets discuss the rights portion. When you bundle things together, you also start lumping together rights. But photographers generally give less generous rights packages. Why should you be unable to sell the photos for six months? Because you think the publisher should have that long with the story? The idea of exclusive use for a period of time is usually to keep something away from competitors. But if you treat photography separately from writing, you can possibly get more nuance in negotiations. For example, if you sell directly from a web site to people who might like an image, that shouldn't be competitive, and so, shouldn't be part of an exclusive run. (I'd actually think six months was too long even for writing. Try three, or even two.)

In summary, by bundling, you impair your ability to get better terms on rights, and you potentially devalue your work. I think separate pricing and rights negotiations are usually the better choice to sell both writing and photography.

As for publishers who expect writers to provide photos for a single fee, consider what you're actually doing. Say that the photography would typically run half of the writing fee (and, again, that's not wildly optimistic). So you're selling 1.5X, where X is the writing fee. Now divide the package price the publisher offers by 1.5. If the amount is, say, $1,200, then your writing is actually bringing only $800. If someone offers $600, then the writing is only bringing $400. Ask yourself if the amount you get seems reasonable for the writing alone. If not, then pass on the project.

Blog Links and Responsible Writing

While looking at stats for this blog last night, I had a minor revelation. The article I wrote about SPJ's support for National Geographic in its law suit was fairly popular popular, but with two links in it, not even 10 percent of the readers went beyond what I wrote. That got me thinking about statistics for all my blogs, and I realized that many people never click on links that lead off the blog page.

It was a depressing thought, in a way. It could be a result of a skewing of my audiences, and this is a small sample, but I'm now wondering to what degree people actually use links. In other words, if you provide links for additional information and to back up what you claim, very few people have a practical care. They just read what you wrote and go on to something else.

That puts a great burden on the writer. You can't reliably use links as a way to help explain a story. You can't use statements that are cryptic unless understood in the context of a reference you provided. In short, we may all need to assume that for many people, what we write could be it.

Let that sink in. Posts really need to be thorough, recap all the necessary information, and be able to stand on their own if necessary. Most need to have the discipline of miniature reported articles. That's just on the craft and writing side. How about marketing? Getting a link to your piece in someone else's story is probably going to draw a lot less traffic than you might otherwise want.

We all have a lot of learning facging us when it comes to these new media. No one can give you certain answers because they don't know them. The experience does suggest that paying scrupulous attention to the usage numbers of your blog are important for writing quality and responsibility in addition to better controlling your marketing.

Here's to finding out that this "easy" form of writing is a lot more difficult than one might think.

Too Much Information

Journalists often learn that detail is the heart fo writing. Read some of the early classic pieces of non-fiction narrative and you'll see one piece of information after another intended to put the reader into the scene. Instead, the details often put the reader to sleep.

I can remember looking at a piece regarded highly by some big names in the non-fiction narrative genre. The reporter was walking through a field that had the smell of apples from a distant orchard. So the writer did some research, found the varietal being grown, and mentioned it by name. But what did that add to the story? If the average person were walking through that field, would he or she know whether the smell came from a gravenstein, winesap, royal gala, or some combination? Not at all. This is the use of detail that falls into the smart ass category: journalists add information simply because they can and like to show that they know it. But the apples in this case weren't central to the story - it was just the scent of apples that provided a detail of what it would be like to walk through the same fields.

This is when detail becomes distraction. Ever hear the phrase about killing your darlings? It means that no adored sentence or passage can take precedence over the piece as a whole, and that you have to be ready to eradicate that which will get in the way of the story. That's what needless detail does. Just as you bring the reader further in, it's that annoying noise that breaks the mood. Yet detail has become a matter of one-upsmanship, particularly in newspapers, from what I can tell.

Stories are the only victim. So are queries. Another writer asked me to look at a pitch that ran 700 words. I made some suggests that kept the essence of the pitch and cut the length in half - meaning that it's more likely the writer will get the attention of an editor. The details I pruned weren't irrelevant - but including them only did damage to the query because of what it had to accomplish and the constraints on space.

When applying the detail, think of Chinese brush painting, or a really good cartoon. There are only enough lines and details to render the whole image. Every piece of writing can go on only so long. I'm not suggesting to forget details. When writing an article, for example, I typically have a 10 to 1 or higher ratio of research notes to final article length. Properly handling detail means gathering all you can and then being judicious in the inclusion. Those details aren't wasted - they serve two purposes. One is being available in case the story needs them. The other is saving time by being available if the editor wants them.

The En Passant Quote

In chess, en passant (in passing) is a specific circumstance under which one pawn can capture another while moving by it. But a few years ago I found a way of using a quote in passing.

I was writing an article for Newsweek, which meant a lot of information in a small amount of space. In this case, I had about800 words and 10 sources. Normally that would be overkill and you wouldn't use all of the material, but in this case I really wanted to, so I had to find a way to fit it in without being too obvious in the reading.

So I experimented with using a quote as both a way of delivering additional information and acting as a transition between paragraphs at the same time. Here's an example:

..."Many of the people running dot coms have never run a business before. All they're doing is spending a lot of money and getting very little return." Experience is key, because there are no hard and fast rules about exactly how to value intangible services like consulting. As Marty Winston, an old time technology PR expert, puts it, "PR pricing always has been a bit of voodoo."

More often, though, the real source of trouble is "Internet time," the frenzy that arises when the impossible is expected and service providers have to lavish staff and other resources on projects simply to keep up. ...

In this case, the Winston quote adds an insight into a business issue - PR pricing - while creating a natural transition to the next paragraph. It's not a technique that always works, and overuse can look clumsy, because you might well be using quotes from two different sources in one paragraph after another. But when you need to squeeze a bit more into limited space, this reduces the need for separate transitions, and the words they require.

Blogs: the Writer's Weight Room

Many people spend hours a week on treadmills, in front of weight machines, and traveling to and from the gym. They don't get paid; on the contrary, they pay with both their money and time because the experience itself provides a benefit.

I've seen many writers take up blogging and then drop it, or only do so sporadically. My own experience over the last six months would suggest that even when you are busy, it can make sense to set aside time to blog.

To write well, you have to set words to paper. Lots of them. The more you write, the better and faster you will get. But there are only so many assignments you can land. So unless you're writing constantly and getting paid for it, try blogging. Not just a quick line pointing to something that has appeared somewhere else, but actually writing.

I'm currently maintaining four blogs with new posts once a day, Monday through Friday. At even a few hundred words a post, that adds up to well over a quarter million words a year. No, I'm not getting paid for it (although I've had at least one assignment come from an editor I knew looking at a topic I had pointed out).

But it's like intellectual weight lifting. My writing feels stronger and faster just in the last few months. There is always room to improve, if you're putting in the requisite work. Concert musicians will practice hours a day to keep limber and to stretch their abilities in new ways. The same applies to writing. If you're a pro, you should still be writing every day, doing the equivalent of scales, putting one letter after another. You can write non-fiction, write up material that you couldn't otherwise use, work on a novel section at a time - anything you want. The important thing is to sit and write, whether you feel like it or not. You'll get the direct satisfaction of improvement and the indirection one of being able to more easily impress editors. It's a long term investment, but one that seems to me worthwhile.

Practice Makes Perfect Sense

At some time in your writing career, you will find the overwhelming desire to coast. You might notice it as a greater reliance on formula writing, where you use the same types of openings, always make the third paragraph the nut graph, and go out on an ironic quote. Coasting might come up in pitching to familiar editors only, or in always pursuing a specific topic or story type. You might keep doing the same amount of work.

No matter how the coasting starts, the taste of sameness is always there. One story sounds like the next. Each day becomes a slogging through a business that might as well be working for someone else. Then you start thinking that maybe, just maybe, the problem is with freelancing and that a change in what you do would solve all your problems. There would be enough money, adequate insurance (at least at an affordable rate), interesting people to speak with, challenges, and the possibility of advancement. But there won't be, because the problem isn't with circumstances; it's with how you meet them.

Granted, some people are not cut out for the freelance life and never will be. They really would be much better off working for someone else, or possibly doing something completely different from writing. But for those who really are suited to freelancing, this sort of feeling is a sign that you've forgotten an important life lesson: practice makes perfect.

We all know that the more you do something, the better you get at it. But doing isn't the rote replication of action. By essentially writing the same story and undertaking the same assignments, you aren't doing. Instead, you're working on an intellectual assembly line and just becoming more efficient at fixing the nut onto the bolt. That's unfulfilling because it misses the human inner drive to achieve something more. When you perform by rote, you work without really being present; you cease to exist. Any wonder why that would leave you unhappy?

To find meaning and fulfillment, keep practicing amd challenge yourself so that you must be present to solve the problems that will arise. Of course some of your work will be similar, but it won't be identical or rote. Push into new markets and talk to new editors. Improve the approach to your profession so that you stretch your skills and increase your knowledge of craft. Toss the web for a week and use a library for research. Go on location to do some reporting. Try a different way of writing an article, even if think the results might not work. Just keep pushing - keep practicing. You'll never reach perfection, but you will gain satisfaction, and that's something that few jobs ever offer.

Inspiration, Perspiration, Desperation: Sayings for Writers

I figured a collection of sayings about writing, work, business, and life. Hope it makes for a fun break:

• Good. Fast. Cheap. Pick any two. (Anon)


• Your failure to plan is not my emergency. (Anon)


• I usually get more for that. (Tim Harper)


• When the going gets tough, remember the assignment will eventually end. (Erik Sherman)


• Storytelling reveals meaning without committing the error of defining it. (Hannah Arendt)


• Nothing is really work unless you would rather be doing something else. (Sir James Barry)


• Everywhere I go I'm asked if I think the university stifles writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them. There's many a bestseller that could have been prevented by a good teacher. (Flannery O'Connor)


• To be prepared is half the victory. (Miguel Cervantes)


• Publication - is the auction of the Mind of Man. (Emily Dickinson)


• Writing is an occupation in which you have to keep proving your talent to those who have none. (Jules Renard)


• Deliver me from writers who say the way they live doesn't matter. I'm not sure a bad person can write a good book, If art doesn't make us better, then what on earth is it for. (Alice Walker)


• Asking a writer what he thinks about criticism is like asking a lamppost what it feels about dogs. (John Osborne)


• Always be smarter than the people who hire you. (Lena Horne)


• I love being a writer. What I can't stand is the paperwork. (Peter DeVries)


• No matter who says what, you should accept it with a smile and do your own work. (Mother Theresa)


• The best thing about the future is that it only comes one day at a time. (Abraham Lincoln)


• Women do not always have to write about women, or gay men about gay men. Indeed, something good and new might happen if they did not. (Kathryn Hughes)


• Most writers regard truth as their most valuable possession, and therefore are most economical in its use. (Mark Twain)


• Critics are by no means the end of the law. Do not think all is over with you because you articles are rejected. It may be that the editor has his drawer full, or that he does not know enough to appreciate you, or you have not gained a reputation, or he is not in a mood to be pleased. A critic's judgment is like that of any intelligent person. If he has experience, he is capable of judging whether a book will sell. That is all. (Lavina Goodell)


• Writing is not necessarily something to be ashamed of, but do it in private and wash your hands afterwards. (Robert Heinlein)


• If I had to give young writers advice, I would say don't listen to writers talking about writing or themselves. (Lillian Hellman)


• Television has raised writing to a new low. (Samuel Goldwyn)


• Writers will happen in the best of families. (Rita Mae Brown)


• In certain kinds of writing, particularly in art criticism and literary criticism, it is normal to come across long passages which are almost completely lacking in meaning. (George Orwell)


• I write down everything I want to remember. That way, instead of spending a lot of time trying to remember what it is I wrote down, I spend the time looking for the paper I wrote it down on. (Beryl Pfizer)


• Rage is the only quality which has kept me, or anybody I have ever studied, writing columns for newspapers. (Jimmy Breslin)


• Writing is one of the few professions in which you can psychoanalyse yourself, get rid of hostilities and frustrations in public, and get paid for it. (Octavia Butler)


• Writing is the only profession where no one considers you ridiculous if you earn no money. (Jules Renard)


• If we could sell our experiences for what they cost us, we'd all be millionaires. (Abigail Van Buren)


• Every writer I know has trouble writing. (Joseph Heller)


• If you want to know what god thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to. (Dorothy Parker)


• It is impossible to discourage the real writers - they don't give a damn what you say, they're going to write. (Sinclair Lewis)


• It is awfully important to know what is and what is not your business. (Gertrude Stein)


• I can't believe it! Reading and writing actually paid off! (Matt Groening)


• Striving for excellence motivates you; striving for perfection is demoralizing. (Harriet Braiker)


• The wastebasket is a writer's best friend. (Isaac Bashevis Singer)


• Too many people go through life waiting for things to happen instead of making them happen. (Sasha Azevedo)


• English usage is sometimes more than mere taste, judgment and education -- sometimes it's sheer luck, like getting across the street. (E.B. White)


• I long to accomplish a great and noble tasks, but it is my chief duty to accomplish humble tasks as though they were great and noble. The world is moved along, not only by the mighty shoves of its heroes, but also by the aggregate of the tiny pushes of each honest worker. (Helen Keller)


• Most of us can read the writing on the wall; we just assume it's addressed to someone else. (Ivern Ball)


• Never work just for money or for power. They won't save your soul or help you sleep at night. (Marian Wright Edelman)