Interior Designs

Who's intimidated by Virginia Woolf?

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 20:23:00 +0000

Well, I am, for instance.

Am reading Julia Briggs' Virginia Woolf: An Inner Life, and am impressed by the woman's energy and devotion to -- obsession with -- writing. Despite being beset by frequent headaches, debilitating illnesses and awful depression, she managed to crank out brilliant short stories, books and reviews throughout her relatively short life. I loved that to her, the work was the most important thing. She saw her art as her profession, her vocation, something to take seriously. I struggle with this myself, sometimes imagining people telling me that writing is but a hobby, a frivolous activity that should only take place outside of the restricted hours of a real job. Woolf absolutely believed not only that her writing was her gift but the work that she was put on this earth to do. Would that I could have so much self-confidence.

I knew that she had created a publishing company with her husband Leonard (Hogarth Press) but didn't know much about it until recently. Apparently much of her work was actually published by Hogarth Press, making her one of those "self-published authors" so many people disdain nowadays. (I have a dear friend who still looks down on self-published books as a bunch of drivel written by ignorant amateurs who couldn't hack it with a real publisher. Yes, we're still friends, but we definitely don't agree on that point.) I've always wondered what it would be like to have my own publishing company, not just for my own work but for others. Now would be the absolute worst time to be a publisher, of course, not with all these consolidations and bankruptcies, but wouldn't it be something? Mine would likely focus primarily on works by women, both fiction and nonfiction, biographies, literary essays, philosophy, feminism, that sort of thing. Not so much the academic volumes but the more accessible work that can reach a broader, mainstream audience, the people who wouldn't ordinarily visit a feminist bookstore, for example. I'd love to work with writers such as Jessica Valenti and Amy Richards, writers from my generation and younger who have such exciting ideas about politics and social and global issues.

Maybe someday, if I win the Texas Lotto. Awfully nice to dream about it, though.

Movies as guides to narrative structure

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Wed, 06 May 2009 12:57:00 +0000

One of my favorite "teaching moments" this past weekend at the D/FW Writers' Conference was Bob Mayer's frequent use of actual film scenes -- which he would incorporate into his PowerPoint presentations -- to illustrate the power of a solid narrative structure. I listed these in my notes as some of the films he mentioned and the specific scenes he cites:

Saving Private Ryan's opening scene
The Verdict, most notably: the scenes where he photographs the woman in the hospital; he meets the judge at the latter's home and begs to settle; the final scene in his office
L.A. Confidential
Broken Arrow, with John Travolta and Christian Slater
Walk the Line, specifically the scene where Cash (Joaquin Phoenix) and his bandmates are auditioning for someone and are told that the man doesn't think Cash "feels" the song. Mayer mentioned this scene several times throughout his presentations as a wonderful example of how artists must be passionate about their work, or their readers will immediately see through the artifice and lack of story

He mentioned many others, but these are the ones that stand out the most. I totally loved this unique perspective, since I'm such a huge film buff. He emphasized the importance of watching quality films closely, including all those special features on the DVD's, to see how scenes are structured and titled; how they build upon each other to create tension, a narrative arc; how characters are introduced, including the antagonist; how dialogue is written to distinguish one character from another. Mayer recommended that writers watch film commentaries, too, to hear how filmmakers decide on details to include in each scene, whether it's the burning cigarette in the ash tray in the background or the color of a woman's barrette. These little details are what add punch and interest to a story, the defining characteristics of the people and places and plots that make up a really good book.

I got to thinking about Battlestar Galactica, one of my all-time favorite TV shows, and how each episode built upon all the previous ones, how the narrative structure stayed so tight, even through multiple storylines and characters and over four long years. What made BSG such compelling TV were the characters and dialogue, really, more than the storyline itself. [Spoiler alert!] Who knew that the Cylons would end up being allies to the humans? Who knew that the last shot of the entire series would include the "angels" of a Cylon and human? When did we, the audience, begin caring for the Cylons, sometimes more than we did about the humans? That's some good stuff there, and I bet if I go back and watch it all over again, studying each episode's structure and dialogue, I'll learn even more not only about the story -- because we always catch details upon repeat viewings and repeat readings that weren't obvious during the first go-round, and which almost always give us clues as to the author's or screenwriter's overall vision -- but about the characters themselves.

So now I'm raring up our Netflix account again, getting it ready for our move this weekend to our new apartment. We've had it suspended the last two months, but delivery should start up again this Saturday. We've a backlog of several hundred films, if you can believe that, but now I have an even more attractive reason to park myself in front of the TV and watch movies: it's research for my novel.

By the way, if you're interested in knowing more about how a successful screenwriter thinks and works, John August (Charlie's Angels, Big Fish,Tim Burton's Corpse Bride, The Nines, among others) has a great blog in which he discusses the art and science of his craft and answers questions from readers.

D/FW Writing Conference

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Tue, 05 May 2009 13:15:00 +0000

I attended my first major writing conference this weekend -- major meaning that more than 25 people showed up, and the keynote speaker was someone who'd actually hit the bestseller lists.

If you've never been to one of these, you're in for a real treat once you do. Even intense introverts should attend, especially if you're serious about your writing. I thought I was until I met several attendees, many of whom put my writing activities to shame. Yes, I've been published, and yes, I have tons of clips to my name, but if I say that I want to write a book, and I say that for years, and yet I've no book to my name despite those years behind me, am I really taking it seriously? Hardly.

Bob Mayer, former Green Beret and keynote speaker, has sold over three million books. More importantly to someone like me, though, he's an amazing writing teacher. I can understand why he's so popular among conference organizers, including those of the Maui Writers' Conference (now the Hawaii Writers Conference). If you're of a literary bent and want to write the next Great American Novel, he may not be your first choice for a teacher. In fact, you're probably better off pursuing an MFA, however devastating that may be to your finances. Mayer, on the other hand, has his routine down pat. I attended all but one of his presentations at the conference this weekend (the one exception being "Military for Writers," for although I'm writing about World War II, the perspective is almost purely from the civilian side); his lesson plan is tight. I heard it quite often, even many of the same jokes and the same PowerPoint slides, but it didn't diminish from the influence of his teaching. He taught us the basics of structure, character and plot, and at some point during his Plot presentation I even had a flash of insight as to what the climactic scene would be in my novel. Talk about brilliant!

If you have a chance to attend one of his workshops, I highly recommend that you do so. They're not very expensive -- the one he's holding in Dallas at the end of the month is about $125/day, or $325 for the entire weekend plus a close critique of your query and synopsis -- and he obviously knows his stuff. The Green Beret part of him lends a certain air of cold aloofness, so if you're looking for someone to coddle you and your manuscript, you might want to look elsewhere. But if you're looking for some tough love, someone to really go through your manuscript and give you some very constructive criticism, you could hardly do better than turning to him.

Aside from Mr. Mayer, the conference had some other useful and interesting presentations. One of my other favorites was the agent panel that kicked off the entire event on Saturday morning. Four agents from around the country -- including Canada-based Sally Harding -- answered questions from the audience about what they're interested in, the state of the industry, etc. It was fascinating to listen to them give opposing opinions about publishing. For example, one agent flat-out said that manuscripts with a male protagonist would be a hard, if not impossible sell in this climate, but the others obviously didn't agree. (A good thing for me, given my own novel's main character, Thomas.)

The best part of the whole event was simply the chance to meet other writers, published and yet-to-be, all of whom take this whole crazy business as seriously as I do. They inspired me to take a closer look at my work and my approach to it as well as the focus I need to continue to slog through it day after day, even during those (all too common!) times when I think that everything that I've written so far is just pure crap. Sometimes I get too wrapped up in my head, cocooned as I am in my home office, that I lose sight of what I'm doing and why, or I get bogged down too long on a particular point or page or chapter, and the inevitable frustration kicks in. It felt good to be among like-minded souls who've gone through the same dark days of self-doubt and to know that there are ways around it, that life isn't all lost.

I was hoping to attend Mr. Mayer's conference in Dallas later this month, but after much reflection I think I'll wait until he returns for his next one. My manuscript really isn't ready for prime time, even for a workshop, especially after all that I learned this past weekend. I want to tear into it some more before I subject it to even closer scrutiny. At the very least, I want to put an end to the whole mess and call it done, if only for now.

Journalism's last throes?

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Mon, 04 May 2009 23:31:00 +0000

The New York Times just announced that, in order to shore up their revenues, they will be increasing prices from $5.00 to $6.00 for the Sunday edition, and from $1.50 to $2.00 for weekdays and Saturdays. They will also be shuttering the Boston Globe.

After the close of the Rocky Mountain News, which I used to read quite often when I lived in Grand Junction, CO, no one should be surprised that even some of the oldest and most established newspapers are suffering and threatening closure. It doesn't make it any easier to watch all of this carnage, though. I love newspapers -- used to read several a day -- but even I admit that I'm cutting back on my newspaper-buying. The Dallas Morning News daily is now $1.00, while the Sunday editions are $4.00. Doesn't sound like much, but when you have an alternative and you're a self-employed person with a limited budget, the online editions are awfully tempting. That does mean, of course, that I'm the reason why these folks are losing their jobs, why cities are saying goodbyes to their only newspaper, but hard decisions aren't just the purview of big corporations. We individuals have to make them as well.

Some people have said that the newspapers themselves are to blame for allowing their content to essentially be distributed for free on the Internet, while requiring folks at coffee shops and grocery stores to actually fork over their dwindling dollars for a paper copy. I agree. The only way that the remaining newspapers can survive is to return to the pay-for-content subscription model, since those advertising revenues will never return. People who've grown accustomed to free content will holler and howl and bitch and moan, but remember what everyone said about Napster and the demise of the music industry after the former was shut down by the authorities? Now, the industry is as healthy as ever, and plenty of people not only don't mind paying for music on iTunes, they're doing it in droves.

Newspapers will always have a role to play in our society. Sure, bloggers like me and tons of Web sites provide just about any iota of information you could possibly want about what's going on in the world, but think about it: where do these folks get much of their info? Citizen journalists with Flips and digital cameras around the world supply us with lots of on-the-ground photos, videos and content, but nothing beats the kind of quality writing and analysis that experienced professionals provide. I know of wonderful commentators and bloggers online whose talent and skill rival those of a Nicholas Kristof, but they're few and far between, and their own relatively limited resources will never allow them to have the kind of breadth and depth and reach of a, say, New York Times.

I still have faith that newspapers are here to stay. The question, though, is whether or not they recognize their continued relevance and make the changes necessary to shore up what remaining resources they have to transform themselves and their failing business model into something that will weather this economic storm,

A Day in the Life

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 14:06:00 +0000

I've seen a lot of folks post their daily schedules lately, sharing with their readers their day-to-day activities. I'm not sure why, but I find it all so fascinating. (I guess that's why they themselves do it, because of people like me.) Maybe it's the anal-retentive, hyper-organized part of me (cough cough), but I like finding out how other people organize their lives. I suppose I like to glean whatever hints I can from their schedules to improve upon my own productivity. Right now I have so many projects on my plate, I'm on the lookout for even more ways to squeeze seconds out of everyday. I mean, we all get the same 24 hours right? Right?

Mine has been pretty haphazard of late, mostly because we're still living out of a suitcase at my brother and sister-in-law's house. We'll be moving into our new apartment next Saturday, which will hopefully bring much improvement to our hectic days by helping us establish a routine, but for now it's catch-as-catch-can.

So lately my average workday has been something like this:

6:00 Alarm goes off. Hit snooze. Twice.

6:18 Get up. Basic yoga stretches. Shower. Dress.

7:00 Drive B. to work.

7:45 Coffee and breakfast at Starbucks. Catch up on emails, blogs.

11:00 Write. Research. Read.

12:00 Lunch.

1:00 More of writing, researching, reading. Apply for jobs.

3:00 Watch two episodes of "King of Queens." (What can I say? It's like comfort food.)

4:00 More of writing, researching, reading. Apply for jobs.

5:30 Pick up B. at train station.

6:00 Two more episodes of KoQ. Browse Google Reader at the same time, pay bills, balance checkbook, update Quicken Online account.

7:00 Dinner. Play with Maya, chat with brother and sister-in-law.

9:00 Bed.

Not very exciting, huh? In between there are job interviews, doctor's appointments, lots of errands, and all the other things that make up the average American's daily life. Random detritus, shall we say. It's not the most glamorous life, but it works for me. For now. I want to devote more time to writing and reading, but I also need 8 hours of sleep. And in case you didn't notice, I've had to eschew running, at least until we move into our new place and I can unearth my running shoes from our moving boxes. I miss it so much. When I don't write or don't run, I'm a miserable person to be around.

Anyone else care to share their daily diary? I'm curious as to how people spend their time.

Quick, useful radio interview with Darren Rowse

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 21:23:00 +0000

If you're looking to blog for money, Darren Rowse should definitely be on your feed reader list. He's the founder and publisher of the phenomenally popular Problogger.net, which offers daily tips on how to grow your blog audience and earn a good income from your efforts.

Here's a link to a recent radio interview Darren had with an Australian radio show (Darren lives Down Under). It's a quick listen (about 14 minutes), so grab a cup of coffee or your favorite tea and have a go.

My takeaways:

a) Network, network, network.

b) Create useful content.

c) Post regularly.

d) Find a niche.

e) Repeat ad nauseam.

What the Chinese can teach me about business

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 19:45:00 +0000

Sometimes I wonder why I have subscriptions to Fortune and Forbes magazines. Although I operate my own business as a freelance writer/editor/photographer, my operating budget and annual revenues don't exactly match those of the typical Fortune and Forbes reader. I do occasionally hire a contract worker to do transcription work for me, and for awhile there I thought about outsourcing some administrative tasks to a virtual assistant (until I found out how much they cost per hour, which was about how much I make per hour), but with those rare exceptions, I'm nowhere near being able to hire employees.

Still, it is inspiring to read a lot of the articles, even those that don't directly pertain to me and my small biz. The ones that feature a particular small biz offer plenty of ideas and inspiration for other entrepreneurs, and it's heartening to know that others face many of the same challenges I do.

One recent article about Warren Buffett's foray into the electric car business via a Chinese company called BYD offers some interesting insight into that culture's secret to business success. The bottom line for Chinese industry is literally near the bottom line of the article itself:

"How did BYD get so far ahead?" Warren Buffett asked Wang [Chuan-Fu, BYD's founder], speaking through a translator. "Our company is built on technological know-how," Wang answered. Wary as always of a technologyp lay, Buffett asked how BYD would sustain its lead. "We'll never, never rest," Wang replied.

Buffett may not understand batteries or cars, or Mandarin for that matter. Drive, however, is something that needs no translation.

I love that. Hard work may not always save a company from failure, but it's definitely an essential ingredient for success. It's something that many would-be entrepreneurs forget to take into account when they dream of making their first million or two. I know that in my previous attempts to start my own business (wedding photography, Mary Kay sales), I always underestimated the amount of sheer hard work and time that I would have to invest in starting and growing the business. It means often having to work on vacation (which I did for about a fifth of my time in Singapore last year); working late during the week and on the weekends; and skipping otherwise very important events, even those that involve family. People have the misconception that working for yourself means that you have unlimited time on your hands -- I can't count how many times I'm often asked, "So, what are you doing with yourself these days?" As if being a freelance writer meant lounging around in my jammies, waiting for inspiration to hit while popping M&M's in my mouth and watching daytime TV.

Well, okay, yeah, I do pop M&M's frequently, but usually it's while I'm hammering away on an article or blog post or responding to a job posting. I watch TV no more than the average American, and probably even less. I don't watch daytime TV because my job requires my full concentration, even though I'm doing it on the couch at home.

Still, I know I can do more. I'm not afraid of hard work, but it does require some sacrifice. I know I work hard, but I also recognize that there are times when I slack off a wee bit too much, and since we moved back to Dallas, those times happen more often than I care to admit.

What about you? If you're an entrepreneur, whether you're a writer or Web developer or artist or craftsperson, do you think you work as hard as you're capable? Or do you think you have some room for improvement in your efficiency and industry?

It ain't waterboarding, but writing is still torture

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 14:40:00 +0000

I'm reading Sol Stein's Stein On Writing: A Master Editor of Some of the Most Successful Writers of Our Century Shares His Craft Techniques and Strategies, a great instruction manual on the mechanics of good writing. (He doesn't consider John Grisham's The Firm to be good writing, I must add. Rather, he calls such novels transient bestsellers. Would that I had a transient bestseller, though.)

Anyway, something he mentions in the book answers a question I've been pondering since I first began attending the D/FW Writers' Workshop. You see, during the reading-and-critique sessions, I noticed that most people read their work with very little inflection or character in their voice. Most of the time they read in a rather flat monotone, and I always thought, Wouldn't your work have more punch if you were to inject more personality in your voice? Maybe vary the tone a bit? It would make sense, right?

Stein, however, points out -- rightfully so -- that the writers should rely solely on their words to tell the story. Otherwise, if you were to expect an actor to do that for you through gestures and intonation, you're taking the reader outside of the story, the book. Your words alone should carry the story, convey the emotion, compel the reader to continue reading. After all, chances are, the reader isn't going to have a Shakesperean actor reading the book out loud to her, and even if they did, bad writing is never going to be rescued by good acting. It just doesn't work that way.

So writers can never use that as a fallback, whether you're a screenwriter or a novelist or journalist or children's storybook author. The words are all that matter. They're all that should matter. Stein recommends having the worst actor in your group to read your story aloud, or barring that, read it aloud yourself with the flattest monotone you can conjure up. Then listen to the words and see if they still inspire a response, despite the delivery. If it does, you're on the right track.

You can never be lazy in writing, expecting illustrations or your reputation or the talent of the actor chosen to play the lead role in your script to carry your work to success. I succumb to this more often than I care to admit, which is why I'm shopping around for a new dictionary. As much as I love playing with words, I'm human. I pull any random word out of the air, even knowing that it's not exactly what I want to use, but I can't be bothered to make the effort to actually find what will work best for the sentence I'm working on. I think to myself, Yeah, I'll just fix that when I do the edits, but especially when I'm on deadline, that can be conveniently forgotten. Journalists with their relentless deadlines can be forgiven (?) for imperfect prose, but I've let that habit spill over into my novel-writing as well. Writers who've been practicing their craft for any substantial period of time will be very familiar with the exhilarating feeling that follows the creation of the elusive perfect sentence. Sometimes it flows like water out of you, but more often than not it takes some serious thought and meditation. (I almost wrote medication but caught myself in time. However, upon reflection perhaps that's also an appropriate description of the many tools writers use to create!)

I don't always want to invest that kind of time and energy. I'm a girl in a hurry half the time. But I know I must, even if the will isn't always there. Otherwise, I'm just wasting not only my time, but that of my reader.

Dictionary.com or bust?

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 17:23:00 +0000

The wonderful Betty C. recently got me to thinking about my dictionary usage. As a writer, I have an endless fascination with words. I'm not always enamored over the actual process of writing (what? You think it's all wine and roses and glamorous book tours? I wish.), but I do enjoy mulling over a sentence, trying to find just the right word to express what I'm trying to say. It's that whole precise vs. accurate conundrum. If I say "fat," would it actually be a better description to say "overweight?" "Obese?" "Enormous?" "Flabby?" All these words have shades of meaning that differ from each other, and to substitute one over the other would change the meaning of the sentence. Really good writers would know the difference. Readers will have different intellectual and emotional reactions to each word.

I have a dictionary that was published sometime either in the 1970's or late 1960's, one that's been in my family's possession since at least we first arrived in the United States. I think my mom bought it at a yard sale. I used to pore over it when I was a kid, finding funny words or interesting words or words that just stumped my eleven-year-old brain. I would highlight them, so that during an idle moment while I'm flipping the pages I would stumble upon these bright yellow words and ponder over their meaning. Again and again.

Betty C. just bought the Oxford English Dictionary, complete with CD-ROM, and I now have dictionary envy. I've gotten lazy of late, relying on Dictionary.com for all my look-up-the-damn-meaning needs, but now I wonder if I should update my bookshelf as well and get a new dictionary. Awhile back I was on the hunt for a dictionary published around 1940, to use as a reference for my World War II-era novel, but now I'm thinking I should go contemporary and retire my poor old dictionary. It's still in fantastic condition, but it's hard red cover is showing lots of wear and tear, and the gold-colored embossed title is worn. The spine is starting to separate, although the rice paper-thin pages are remarkably still bright and hardy. Today's books are poor cousins by contrast in terms of quality of binding and materials.

Anyone care to share their favorite print dictionaries? Do you have a particular dictionary of choice that you consider the definitive reference for writers of all stripes?

Why do I write?

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 14:30:00 +0000

One late, late night many years ago (2002, to be exact, sometime in early May of that seminal year), I chatted on the phone with a guy I was dating at the time. It was well past midnight, and as I had just returned from a months-long backpacking trip around the world, my body was still shaking off the nasty effects of a particularly bad bout of jet lag. At the time I stayed wide-awake till the early hours of the morning, only to find myself literally falling asleep at the wheel of my parked car. It took a month for me to finally get back on a regular sleep schedule.

Anyhoo, back to the conversation.

Jim tended to go to bed late anyway, so we sat up and talked and talked, mostly about the kind of things you talk about when it's one in the morning on a Saturday night. Favorite movies. Life philosophies. Jobs. Or in my case at the time, job hunts. Grammar. Words.

Jim was not a writer. Rather, he was a millionaire entrepreneur, but he also had a love of words that nearly equaled mine (we met in a bookstore, natch), and what I remember most about that conversation was a lengthy, lengthy discussion about the difference between the words precise and accurate. We didn't argue or debate, we simply discussed it with the kind of keen interest that, say, anthropologists display when they're discussing the discovery of a tribe of pygmies in Southeast Asia. This was truly fascinating stuff to us.

I sometimes think that that's why I write, because few things in life -- not movies, not jobs, not even life philosophies -- hold my attention like words do. I'm good for little else, and when I'm really honest with myself, that's enough for me.

Credit card sneaks

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 12:56:00 +0000

It was inevitable, of course. I've enjoyed a 5.9% APR on my Fidelity MasterCard since I first got the thing about six years ago. When I called them a couple of years ago to ask them a question about the card, I made a point of telling the customer service representative that I really appreciated them maintaining that same low APR for so long, and he said something to the effect of, "Oh, as long as you keep paying on time and maintaining good credit, we won't change the rate."

Even back then, I knew that wasn't necessarily true. You don't have to read the fine print to know that APR's are at the mercy of the issuing company, and that they could change them at any time. Every now and then, I would check the statements to see what the rate was, and each time I would smile and think, Good, they're not changing it.

Well, that was a good ride while it lasted. I recently recieved one of those thick, official-looking envelopes in the mail from the company, and although I normally just glance over the contents to see if there was anything that required my immediate attention before tossing it in the shredder, this time I actually took the time to read the whole two-page document that accompanied the privacy manual and a couple of ad flyers.

In short my credit card company is now raising my APR as of June 1, 2009, to 11.99%. Still not a bad deal (my Wells Fargo VISA, which I only use once every few years, is a crazy 14.99%, and they refuse to lower it, even after I've asked and pointedly told them I would not use it until they do), but it's still double what it has been. They also raised the APR on balance transfers and cash advances, as well as the late fees, although since I'm never late in my payment and I never do either transfers or cash advances, I didn't pay attention to what the new terms are. And here's the thing: the new rate applies to new purchases and existing balances.

Here's the interesting part, though: The notice also offered the option to reject the new APR, with a caveat. In order to reject the new rate, I had to call this number or send them a written notice. In addition -- and here's the kicker -- I can't use the card anymore, whether for purchases or balance transfers or even those automatic payments for things like subscription services. The moment I do, the new APR kicks in, applying not only to the new purchase but to all existing balances.

B. and I weighed the options and decided to reject the APR. We'll pay off the current balance and then decide whether or not we want to continue using the card. One of the things I really like about the card is that I've had it for a long time, and along with the Wells Fargo VISA (which I've had for six years), it gives me a good credit record. I pay on time, and a couple of times I've paid the full balance off. (The VISA hasn't had a balance in a couple of years.) They've always been pretty decent, especially with the APR, although occasionally they'll play that awful trick of changing the due date, sometimes by as much as a week. That's one of the reasons why I never do automatic payments for anything, even for utility bills. I like to be able to control when I pay bills, and since I keep a close eye on our outstanding bills and pay them weekly, I'm never late.

Another reason we like the card, of course, is that it allows us to get things like rental cars and hotel reservations worry-free. The card does have a rewards program, and right now we're expecting a $350 check from it, but it's not as good as, say, the American Express or Discover cash back programs.

We'll probably look into other cards with lower interest rates, but for now I think we'll just pay off the card and then use it only for things like the aforementioned travel expenses, paying the balances as soon as they incur so that the rate doesn't kick in at all. I don't like having too many credit cards -- I have two, the MC and the VISA, while B. has one -- and I loathe applying for more. Still, it might be a good idea to start shopping around once we pay this one off.

If you have a credit card with a low rate, or even a not-so-low rate, make sure that you start monitoring any correspondence you receive in the mail or electronically from the card issuer. It may come in a formal letter like mine did, or it may be buried in fine print among many other documents they send you, but with the Obama administration considering legislation that will impose restrictions on the ability of lenders to amend credit card terms, you can bet that banks are going to be scrambling to make changes now, before any new laws take effect. Even if you've been paying on time for the entire life of the card, and even if you've rarely used the card, definitely keep an eye on it. You might be in for a big surprise.

D/FW Writers' Workshop

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 14:29:00 +0000

I attended my second meeting of the D/FW Writers' Workshop last night as a visitor (my first as a new member!) and was so happy that I did. It's a three-hour meeting (7-10) in Euless, in a community center that will actually be no more than ten minutes (if not less) from where B. and I will be living. Yay! That's one blessing, as Dallas traffic has really bummed me out of late. I'm still trying to get used to the tangled, construction-crazy network of traffic that is the Dallas/Fort Worth highway system. It's a bloody miracle that the saving grace of my life, the writing group, is only minutes away from where I'll be living.

The group is pretty large, about 75 or so strong, and there may actually be twice or thrice that many paid members, but in terms of the people who actually attend the meetings, I gather just under 100 show up on Wednesday nights. The first twenty or so minutes (and they start precisely at 7:00, bless them) is devoted to announcements, including a chance for members to share with others their submissions, acceptances and even rejections (only other writers will surely understand the importance of sharing even rejections), while the rest of the meeting is then turned over to serious read-and-critique sessions. Since the group is quite large, we break up into mini-groups of anywhere from ten to twenty, with 4-5 people each reading from their work for 20 minutes, followed by group critique for 5-10 (I think that's how long the critiques are. I haven't really counted). The critiques are helpful even for those of us who didn't read, as they give insight on what works in a piece and what doesn't, what readers may or may not like about a character or plot or structure. I've taken notes from others' work and have gotten tons of ideas of my own for how to work my characters based on what people have said about others'. Super useful.

Last night I became a member, and of course, the enterprising Treasurer (who processed my membership) issued his challenge to me: to read the first 10 pages of my work-in-progress next week. Next freakin' week. As in, 6 days from today. As in, I read out loud my little baby, the one that I think would end up in the trash bin were it not for my reluctance to get rid of anything I've worked so hard on.

I know he meant well, but does he realize just what a tizzy he put me in? I'm actually trying to remember my first 10 pages; it's been two years since I first wrote them. I recall a scene in a maternity ward, a Japanese woman giving birth to her first child in the heat of a Singapore November, her husband hovering just outside, sweating from the stress and the unairconditioned heat of the hospital corridor. I know I can just open up the document right now and refresh my memory easily, but I'm reluctant to do so. That doesn't bode well for my attempt to share that chapter next week in front of people I just met -- and many whom I've yet to meet, dammit -- but oh well. I comfort myself with my favorite writing mantra, that James Redfield is a mediocre writer who managed to parlay his New Age novel, The Celestine Prophecy, into a global bestseller, and if someone of that so-so talent can convince a major publisher to buy his book, surely my own little scribbles can be shared with a handful of strangers in a cold, ugly community center room in...Euless.

I've only ever read a story of mine out loud once, in a creative writing class way back in my college days. I've had my work read out loud by others -- most notably, an essay I wrote for a political theory class in grad school that the prof liked, much to my relief -- but I've never done it myself. (Plus, in that last example, my name was kept off the paper, so no one but I and the professor knew who wrote it, possibly to save me from embarrassment.) I'm pretty sure I'll be thisclose to being sick, or worse, but I'll just have to, well, deal. People do it every week, after all (most of them far more brilliant writers than I, natch), so it can't be too bad. Can it?

Anyway, what I am looking forward to is attending the workshop's annual writers' conference that following weekend in Grapevine. It'll be my first conference since the one I attended in Montrose, Colorado, shortly after Brian and I moved to Grand Junction. I love being around other writers and meeting people who take this writing habit as seriously -- if not more so -- as I do. It can be difficult to find people who think of writing as anything more than a hobby rather than a craft and a real profession (I think of those who often asked me, a professional freelance writer in Grand Junction, "So, what are you doing these days?" As if I had tons of time in the world and didn't have a real job. They meant well, I'm sure, but it was still grating.) The workshop has given my writing a big boost of inspiration and confidence, and I imagine the conference will multiply that effect even more.

If you're in the Dallas area the weekend of May 2nd and 3rd and want to hook up with some great writers, check out the conference (held at the Grapevine Convention Center). It's two full days of networking and learning the art and business of writing and publishing, and considering all the great events that the organizers have scheduled -- including agent pitch sessions -- it's a freakin' bargain at $125 for members, $175 for non-members. (Membership is $100 per annum.) I'm not pitching -- my manuscript is obviously not ready, and I'm still hoping that the agent who expressed interest in my story in 2006 will still be interested once it is -- but I know plenty who will, and that option alone is worth the entrance free if you've been wanting to get in front of agent with your book proposal.

Hope to see you there!

Let's hear it for Susan Boyle!

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 23:02:00 +0000

Tell me you can watch this video of Susan Boyle's triumph in her audition for Britain's Got Talent without crying. I think I've seen this at least a dozen times, and each time I bawled and bawled. I have a desktop full of crumpled tissues to prove it.

A few snarky YouTube commentators wrote that her voice "isn't anything special," that as a "pro in musical theatre," they claim that she's just average, or some such nonsense. These folks obviously missed the huge, huge point glaring at them in the face, i.e., that it's not just her voice (and clearly, as someone who is not a pro but rather a sheltered church-choir amateur, Boyle is a revelation) but rather the stark, brilliant contrast between the audience's expectations and her mind-blowing performance. Her back story (she only entered the competition in order to fulfill her dying mother's wish for her to "make something of [herself]"), her obvious gush of glee and exuberance, her amazing self-possession despite the audience's skepticism and cynicism...those are what make this video so bloody moving.

I desperately wish I could watch her progress through the show's trials, but for now I'll just be content keeping track of her from across the pond. Britain's bookmakers are already betting on Ms. Boyle's ultimate victory. I can't even imagine what that must be like, having your entire life change in mere minutes, going from being an object of scorn and condescension to the center of the entire world's attention.

Ms. Boyle, congratulations. Welcome to stardom.

I knew I should've gone to UT Law...

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 21:50:00 +0000

I was accepted at the University of Texas at Austin Law School for the 1994 class.

I deferred it a year so that I could teach English in Japan.

When 1995 rolled around, I wrote to UT Law and said, Thanks, but no thanks.

I stayed another year in Japan.

I never thought about going to law school again.

Huh. Obviously I made the wrong decision.

Oh well.

It's April 13th. Do you know where your W-2's are?

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 21:30:00 +0000

I totally do not mean to sound smug at all, but I did my taxes way back in February. As in 2007 and 2008, I pretty much started doing my taxes almost as soon as all the W-2's landed in my mailbox solely for one reason: I knew we had a big refund coming to us, and we needed that money badly. Badly. That will overcome an procrastination tendencies I may have to put off filing the return until, say, the evening of April 15th. I've done that nearly every year since I started doing my own taxes way back when.

Okay, I take it back. There is another reason why I do taxes early, and this will sound very geeky and goody-two-shoes: I actually like doing my taxes now. Seriously! Yes, I like seeing the refund amount increase and increase and increase as I plow through the different pages of my online Turbo Tax program, but honestly, I actually like sifting through my tax forms and working the numbers. Strange as it may seem for someone who didn't do well in college statistics, but I actually love working with numbers now. I'm the CFO in my little family, the one who pays the bills and plays around with Quicken and balances the checkbook every couple of days. In a way, we pretty much have to be this diligent because of our limited income, but much to my shock I've found that I derive real, perverse pleasure in organizing our paperwork and working through the spreadsheets. I know, it's weird, huh?

There's a huge, huge amount of satisfaction in knowing exactly where we stand financially all the time, even if that actually means that we have, oh, $10 in the bank. (No, it's not that bad, but there have been times in the past, I must admit. Talk about being creative.) Knowing that I have exactly $10.21 in the bank, however distressing that may be at times, is still infinitely better than the terrifying experience of constantly being in the dark, not knowing if I have enough money to cover a check I've written. I've been in that situation before. It's not pleasant at all.

So yeah, we got our refund two months ago. It helped us tremendously with our moving expenses and in paying off one of two credit card balances. I'll do it again next year, too, and begin filing as soon as we get our W-2's and 1099's. It's amazing how easy it is to set up a tax system -- I have a single file folder labeled TAXES [insert tax year here] in which I throw anything that I think will be useful and necessary when tax season comes in. Donation receipt from one of a handful of nonprofits that we support? It goes in there. (Not that we've ever had to use it, since we don't itemize enough to surpass the standard deduction, but you never know.) Business-related receipts? It goes in there. (I tape all business receipts on to copy paper and put the latter into the folder. It's infinitely better than shoving a thick sheaf of small, odd-sized receipts into the folder, where it will inevitably fall out.) Health care receipts for expenses we couldn't deduct from our Flexible Spending Account? It goes in there.

This year will be a little different, depending on my job situation. If nothing of interest comes up, I may decide to continue freelancing and hope that I'll be able to double my income, as I did in 2008. With the economy still very shaky (anyone else sick of hearing analysts trying to predict when we've "bottom?"), it's not promising, but I'm nothing if not optimistic. Besides, who knows? Perhaps I'll finally finish my novel and sell it for a million dollars to Random House, after which I option it to Steven Spielberg (call me, baby, it's right up your alley!) for an equally jaw-dropping amount. Hey. If you're gonna dream, you might as well dream big.

Support your local library

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 20:37:00 +0000

I'm disappointed in my local library. I worked there as a part-time assistant pretty much my entire college life, and I remember loving the place. My co-workers and I got along famously -- so much so that at times it resembled Friends (the TV show), where some members of the group would date other members of the group, sometimes temporarily destroying the fragile bonds -- the pay was quite generous, and the schedules couldn't be beat. Most of us were college students, so there was a high-energy vibe throughout the department, and even those who were a few years past the university years fed off our enthusiasm and drive and were quite youthful themselves.

What I don't remember, I guess, is how mediocre the collection itself actually was.

I lived in Columbia, SC, for four years in the late 1990's and frequented the Richland County Public Library. It won the American Library Association's library of the year award in 2001, shortly before I moved back to Dallas, much to my dismay. The architecture doesn't impress me very much -- too modern, too white, too much glass -- but the collection! The library owned nearly all the books I searched for in its vast catalog, even some of the more obscure ones, but most impressive was its vast, vast periodicals selection. I think RCPL had subscriptions to at least a thousand magazines and newsletters, if not more. They occupied one entire wall on the 2nd floor and were so crammed with the latest issues that sometimes you had to lift one up in order to see what gem hid behind. The video collection was housed in its own separate, glassed-in room, and they even had a little cafe and gift shop near the front entrance.

And yep, even I had to admit that the service offered by the assistants at the front desk as well as by the librarians handily beat the lackluster service at my current library. It may even have been better than the service we offered when I worked at my local library.

Mesa County Public Library in Grand Junction was even better. Service could be inconsistent, with some staffers poorly trained and/or just plain indifferent, but it was hard to complain about the collection, certain patrons' frequent whining notwithstanding. They actually had to expand the new books section by several bookcases -- and even had to build another entire section on a different wall -- just to accommodate the constant influx of new material. They make sure to order a good number of new release films in their DVD collection, and they offer lots of classes and workshops to the public.

Even better, they participate in a consortium of libraries throughout the Western Slope so that if, say, Aspen had a book that you wanted but which MCPLD didn't own, y0u could place a hold on it via the computer or through a librarian and voila! It would arrive within a day or two at your chosen library location for check out. The service -- introduced just a year or two ago -- greatly expanded the collection at a patron's disposal, especially since some of the participating libraries were based at colleges, allowing you access to many academic materials you might not otherwise find at general public libraries.

But now...meh.

Don't get me wrong. I love love love the whole idea of public libraries. They're the most underappreciated and arguably most valuable public institution in the United States. As someone who has lived in countries where free libraries were a luxury, if not non-existent, I consider it one of the greatest privileges of living in this country. (I once visited the public library in Moshi, Tanzania, and was dismayed to find that the entire collection consisted mostly of donations from passing tourists on their way to and from safaris and Kilimanjaro climbing trips. Outdated National Geographics, faded Lonely Planets, and decades-old books filled the shelves. The librarian frequently went literally door to door throughout the city begging for monetary donations from businesses and tourists to sustain his one-room endeavor. We met him on the day we were scheduled to leave for India and gave him what Tanzanian shillings we had left -- I think it was about 10,000, or approximately USD10.)

Still, when I think of how much wealth goes through this very corporate suburb, I wonder just how much better the library could be. The collection is so-so, and the new books area is pathetic, with probably no more than about 50-60 at any given time. Most of the books I want aren't in the system, so if I really wanted it I would have to order it via Interlibrary Loan -- not a difficult process, but it can take a while to get your book and you're not allowed renewals. I wish that the city would enter into a similar collection-sharing agreement as MCPLD did with the Western Slope consortium, but the chances of that happening ever are pretty much at zero, considering the fierce provincialism that prevails in each Dallas suburb. Heck, a few years ago one of the suburbs near Irving actually voted to close their last remaining library due to budget restrictions. A concerted effort by a group of local citizens -- not to mention the largesse of an anonymous donor -- brought it back to life, but it was a clear demonstration of just how poorly many in the area think of their public library.

I sometimes wonder if perhaps Irving would be better served if they a) began collecting late fines, and b) charged non-residents for the privilege of using the facilities. Most public libraries do one or both, and doing so might provide the much needed funding for more acquisitions. The library has never charged fines, nor has it ever restricted membership to Irving residents (as far as I can remember, and I've been going there for nearly thirty years), but perhaps it's time they did so in order to shore up their budget. I'd hate to see it neglected. It's too much a critical part of the local community to become irrelevant, if not forgotten. Not to mention that, despite its age, it still has tremendous potential, particularly in this age of information and knowledge.

Walter Mosley in Dallas tomorrow, Friday, 4/2/2009

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 19:36:00 +0000

Okay, one great, great thing about being back in the great Dallas/Fort Worth metropolitan area is the chance to meet and greet with renowned authors, not to mention the opportunity to network with fellow aspiring writers.

An excellent example: Walter Mosley will be at the Barnes & Noble on Northwest Highway tomorrow evening at 7:00 pm for a booksigning. His book about writing, This Year You Write Your Novel, has been on my must-read list for a few months now, and listening to an interview he gave this afternoon to the local NPR affiliate (http://www.kera.org/think) only inspired me even more to get a hold of this book ASAP. If KERA offers a podcast of the interview on their Web site soon, any writer worth his/her salt should definitely set aside some time to listen to the whole broadcast. Mosley offered up some thoughts on the writing process and the evolution of the characters in his latest mystery series. (He also mentioned that he usually goes through anywhere from ten to thirty [!!!] rewrites when writing a book. Whew. Okay, I don't feel so bad about the utter awfulness of my debut effort.)

Another great example of useful local writing resources is The Writers' Garret, a literary nonprofit based at Paperbacks Plus, one of the few remaining independent bookshops here in the North Texas area. Richard Price will be speaking at an event there later this month. And of course, the D/FW Writers' Workshop is filled with dedicated writers -- both published and aspiring -- who meet weekly in the Mid-Cities to critique each other's work and lend each other loads of much-needed moral, intellectual and literary support. I've attended a few of their meetings in the past, but for one reason or another never joined. My reasons had nothing to do with the organization -- it's a great group of folks -- my job was often so demanding of my time that I usually couldn't make the meetings.

I'm looking forward to being more involved with the local literary community. I think in the past I always made excuses about joining this or that group, when in truth I probably was just too scared to expose what I always imagined was horrific writing to an innocent audience. After having read many, many, many successful writers' happy confessions of the incredible usefulness of writing groups, however, I'm willing to possibly subject myself to the agony. It's a critical step to taking your writing seriously, when you're willing to work with more experienced and talented writers who will help you take apart a manuscript word-by-word and polish it to perfection.

Back in the saddle again

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 18:26:00 +0000

It's funny. We've been in Texas for just a little over a week (having arrived last Sunday, the 22nd), and yet we already feel as if we never left, the 2 1/2 years in Grand Junction notwithstanding. B. and I speculate that it's a coping mechanism/trick the brain employs to alleviate the shock of leaving one place and settling in another, especially if the transition is short and quick like ours was. From the moment B. received the job offer to the day we actually left GJ was just a little over two weeks. Talk about abrupt.

B. started working at the hospital today, and for a wild moment I imagined that it was all an April's Fools' Day joke, that his supervisor would greet him at the door with, "Hey, we were just kidding! We didn't really offer you a job!" In actuality, though, they apparently weren't expecting him until Monday, but it worked out okay as he spent most of the day running around campus, finishing up paperwork and getting to know the lay of the land. Since his contract says that April 1st is his start date, he's in good shape.

It's a very strange experience, sort of a reverse culture shock, that may be even more acute than what I went through when I moved back to Dallas after two years in Japan. Maybe it's because I'm a bit older, but it really has been an adjustment being here. I imagine it's partly because my mom retired to the Philippines literally two days after we arrived (no worries, this was something she had planned months, years ago, so she didn't flee the country just because we were back in town!), so there's that void. We're also in a sort of limbo, as the new apartment that we've signed up for won't be ready until the middle of May, so we're camping out at my brother and sister-in-law's house until then. They've been exceedingly kind and accommodating to us, and I love being around my one-year-old niece, but it's different when it's your own place, you know? And it can't be easy to have long-term guests in your own home, even though we basically live on their 2nd floor while they occupy the rest of the house. Still, it's wonderful knowing that we didn't have to worry about finding a place to live right away.

The one thing neither of was truly prepared for, though, was the traffic. I'd always known that Dallas traffic gets worse every year, but have the drivers always been this aggressive and downright reckless? For god's sake, a school bus overtook me in a 20-mph school zone yesterday. I've never been afraid of driving on city freeways and interstates, but lately it seems more like a death wish than a route from Point A to Point B. Yesterday the evening news shows were filled with reports about a 72-year-old school crossing guard who was struck and killed by a drunk driver. At eight in the morning.

Yeah, it's times like these that I realize just how quiet and relatively safe I felt in Grand Junction, compared to the big city.

Still, it's lovely to be back with the families again. To know that anytime I wanted to patronize a Filipino restaurant, I could do so within the hour. (When I lived in GJ, anytime I traveled I would check the local listings to see if there was a Filipino restaurant in the area. Salt Lake City, you really need to get some entrepreneurial Pinoy foodies to move to your fair metropolis.) To be able to shop for just about anything I want, from organic soy candles handmade by a local artisan to Choc-Nut bars at the Asian market to cool-if-overpriced-and-overhyped organizing bins at the Container Store. Oh, and yes, it's nice to have Ikea nearby, even though realistically I'll probably go there no more than once a year.

I miss GJ like crazy. I miss my friends, my favorite editor (Josh, you rock!), my favorite coffee shops (Coffee Muggers and Colorado Java House), the view outside my office window of Colorado National Monument, the running trail just behind my house. When we first set foot in GJ over Labor Day weekend in 2006, we weren't sure what we had gotten ourselves into and were wondering if we would ever get used to living there. Just two and a half years later, it turns out to be one of the best little secrets in America.

But now we're here, and we're going to make the most of it. Back home with family, back home where we were both raised, back home where the familiar and the new collide.

It's just great to be back.

Get free government grants that you never have to pay back!

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 14:32:00 +0000

Okay, now that I have your attention...

When I worked as a grants director for a women's college, I would occasionally receive the odd request for funds from individuals. Inevitably, they were hand-written and stuffed into a colored envelope of some kind and smelled faintly of desperation. I think I received a handful a year, but they were memorable. There was one from a single mother who needed money to pay her bills. Another one was from a woman who needed money to help with everyday expenses, which had become untenable since she became the sole caregiver of her ailing elderly father. They were heartbreaking, even more so since there was really nothing I could do for them. After all, my job was solely to solicit grants from foundations, corporations and individuals for the college, not to disburse them to the public. If only.

One thing all the letters had in common was that they all mentioned that they found my contact information from the infamous Free Money Man himself, Matthew Lesko. You know the guy. (And no, I'm not linking to his Web site. I'm annoyed with him enough without throwing him any traffic.) He's the one who wears those blazers with the question marks printed on them; he screams at the camera at the top of his lungs and tells you all about the "free money" that's available from the government. Uh-huh. He basically repackages information anyone with a quarter of a brain can find themselves for free from government Web sites, and then charges a nice little fee for the privilege. He has plenty of critics and is frequently charged with broadcasting misleading advertising, but he's still around and still taking suckers' money.

I didn't take the time to actually track down this book that my correspondents claimed had my information in it, but I had little doubt that it was true. Although my name and title were on the college Web site, few ordinary folks would have found me unless they were somehow associated with the college. I was appalled that Mr. Lesko would perpetuate his fraudulent practices by throwing my name into his book; surely he's smart enough to figure out that a grant writer, especially one employed by a college, would not be in any position to give money away.

Anyway, I mention this now because I'm seeing lots and lots more people heading to the Web and seeking the "free money" scam that Mr. Lesko continues to hawk. One of my former clients is actually a young small businessman who wanted grant money to buy a farm. We had a lengthy meeting whereby I took as many notes as I could about his background, finances, etc., but cautioned him multiple times that there were likely few, if any, sources of government or private funds for land purchases. I didn't have much experience in the area at the time, although my background in grant writing did give me enough confidence to let him know that I thought our search would likely prove futile.

He didn't care and remained optimistic. I offered him two hours of basic research to see if his idea was viable, after which we could talk about the next step, which would have been crafting a bare-bones proposal draft. He paid me 75% of the work in advance and in cash (although I'd only requested 50%), and I went to work.

As I had predicted, no "free funds" were available for what he wanted. I dug deep into the sites of the US Department of Agriculture, the Colorado Ag dept, a few foundations, the Farm Bureau, and talked with folks from organizations such as the Future Farmers of America. My conclusion dovetailed with what I had initially predicted: unless my client had a very, very specific and research-oriented reason for buying a farm (in which case the USDA does have some grants), his only option would be to take out a low-interest loan from a lender that specializes in rural development loans, of which there are actually quite a few here in Colorado.

I wrote up my report and sent it to my client. I actually spent 2.5 hours on the project rather than the initial 2 that I had quoted, but I threw in the extra half-hour for free because a) it was an educational experience for me, and b) I liked the guy. He has a wife and little kids and really wanted to have his own farm. He had great ideas for it, and I had no doubt that he would succeed.

Of course, you could probably guess how this ended. I never heard from the client again, and I never got the remaining 25% that he still owes me. Oh well.

I suspect that he's still out there, still believing in the hype that free money does exist, still trying to find a grant writer who would find him that elusive pot of government gold. I see variations of him on Craigslist and other job sites I haunt, folks seeking grant money because "I'm a woman" or because they "want to raise funds for my company to get off the ground" or because they need money to "pay my bills" or -- and here's a really popular one -- because they have a "great idea." I suspect that few, if any of these folks want to even consider a loan -- possibly because they're not eligible, especially in these days of tightening credit -- so they fish the Web for some cheap writer to find that free money for them.

Many promise fees to the writer of over $25,000, although most wouldn't pay more than a couple of hundred dollars, if they pay at all. Forget about the fact that writing grant proposals is a professional service that often requires hours of time at a rate upwards of $50-200 an hour. These poor souls have fallen under the Lesko Spell, the kind that seems to especially attract the gullible, the desperate, the lazy, and/or the greedy.

Folks, please get this straight: THERE IS NO FREE MONEY OUT THERE. Sure, there are plenty of grants from all levels of government (federal, state, local, tribal), but generally they're scholarships for students, and more often than not they're very specific in their requirements, e.g., you have to be a particular ethnic minority, go to a particular school, study a particular subject, have a parent who's employed with a particular agency, maintain a high GPA, etc. If by some chance you are eligible and that's what you're looking for, you still have to apply for it -- the government is likely not going to just hand it over to you. However, know this: if you're smart enough to go to college, you're definitely smart enough to find these grants yourself and fill out the applications without hiring someone like Matthew Lesko to do it for you.

There is no "free money" for individuals looking to buy a home.

There is no "free money" to help you start a small business.

There is no "free money" to help you pay your bills.

There is no "free money" to help you with your health care costs.

Repeat after me: There is no "free money." There is no "free money." There is no "free money."

What does exist are: programs for desperate homeowners to refinance or renegotiate their mortgage payments; small business loans to qualified folks with a solid business plan; food stamps, energy rebates and other government entitlement programs for low-income Americans; and Medicaid and extension of COBRA eligibility for people needing health insurance. Many of these provisions are in the new stimulus package recently passed by Congress, which also includes plenty of tax credits for both businesses and individuals.

In other words, there is money out there, but none of it can technically be called "free," with the possible exception of food stamps, but I doubt that these are what people have in mind when they start hunting down proposal writers.

It actually makes sense that the myth of "free money" remains just that: a myth. There's a reason why foundations don't simply distribute checks to outstretched hands. Grant proposals are complicated beasts, requiring not only the basic information about the potential recipient but also a damn good reason why they should hand out their funds. Donors want to know that their money is going towards a greater good, that their hard-earned cash is going to a project that will serve the greatest number of people. They want to give $1,000 or $100,000 or $1,000,000 to a program that will change a community, a country, the world, not to a single person or a group of people with more limited needs. They want to know that their money will outlast them, that they will create something that will make a difference. Imagine if UNICEF just handed out checks to all the people in Africa or Asia or South America rather than create programs that will expand education access to all children or train women to start their own microenterprises or ensure potable drinking water for a village. With very few exceptions, grant money operates on this classic principle: Give a man fish, and he'll eat for a day. Teach a man how to fish, and he'll eat for life.

So please, if you're thinking about maybe hiring your own proposal writer for $100 or so to help you land that "free money," save your cash. First of all, really good proposal writers -- the kind who can put together a viable proposal that may actually stand a chance of attracting funds, not the kind who will just slap together a rambling essay about why you deserve this money -- are generally a kind and generous bunch, but we need to eat and pay our own bills, too, so we'll need to charge more than a pittance for the work. Many of us will do pro bono work, but usually only for nonprofits with which they've worked/volunteered in the past.

And second? There is no "free money."

Would you care if your town lost its only newspaper?

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 17:10:00 +0000

Grand Junction has a relatively healthy media community: we have two newspapers, including one daily and one tabloid that publishes three times a week (that would be the Grand Junction Free Press, my personal choice and for whom I've written the last two years); a biweekly business tabloid; a senior-news tabloid; a Things to Do tabloid; a student newspaper published by the Mesa State College journalism department; and a gorgeous glossy monthly, the Grand Valley Magazine. That doesn't include the much smaller community papers, including the Fruita Times and the Palisade Tribune. The Free Press, as many know, went from a Monday-Friday circulation schedule to Mon-Wed-Fri recently, in light of economic conditions that have hit the Western Slope, but it remains very popular and continues to publish the kind of community news and announcements that everyone clamors for.

Considering the relative size of the city, then, Grand Junction's media community is surprisingly robust. Dallas, for example, has only one newspaper, the Dallas Morning News, and more than one media pundit has predicted that the neighboring Fort Worth Star-Telegram will close and soon be folded into the greater Belo empire. The Irving Daily News used to be published 2-3 times a week, but the Morning News eventually either drove it out of business or took it over entirely; now the Morning News simply comes out with a local edition once a week, distributed only to the subscribers in that area. The same thing happened to a number of other community papers in the greater Metroplex, although a few hearty souls managed to survive and somehow thrive.

You could get D Magazine and its many isotopes (D Home, D Weddings, D CEO, etc.), but they all come from the same small publishing group and share the same staff. There's the so-full-of-itself-it's-annoying-but-you-can't-help-reading-it Paper City, but it's unabashedly by and about the creme de la creme of Dallas social elite, so the rest of us read it just to be able to lick the pages, so to speak, and wonder what it would be like to be able to wear haute couture.

You could also get The Dallas Observer, the scrappy, award-winning independent weekly whose elegant, breezy, and downright eye-popping prose trumps that of the boring ol' News anyday. It's my and B.'s favorite, and we're so glad it's still there.

But still, for a metropolis with millions of people, Dallas suffers from a scarcity of great writing and great reporting. The handful of talented writers at the Observer and the News have more than enough to fill their column inches, but the Big D starves for more.

So yes, I'm moving from an amazingly media-friendly community to a shrinking one, and yes, I realize the irony in that statement considering the recent layoffs at the Free Press and the still-ongoing sale of the other paper in town, the Daily Sentinel. Am I going to miss that richness of local content, the gee-willikers tone of reporting and the proud, zealous efforts to elevate that local content above all others?

Hell yes.

Would I care if my town -- and even though I'm leaving soon, I still consider it "my town" -- lost either of its newspaper? Oh god, yes. I would care if we lost the Sentinel, and I would weep buckets if we lost the Free Press. I grew up at a time when Dallas had not only two newspapers (the Morning News and the venerable Dallas Times Herald) but two editions, a morning and evening. It's more than mere nostalgia, too. I really do believe that newspapers represent the best and worst of a community, a demilitarized zone where neighbors as well as enemies can bring their grievances and concerns in the most democratic of all institutions and come to civilized solutions. It's where we go to learn about our world, our neighborhoods and wards and villages, about births and deaths and all the terrible and wonderful stuff in between. Sure, we have the Internet, but with very few exceptions, the really good articles and essays unique to one's town or neighborhood could really only be found in print. You can find a million people more than happy to sound off on the latest mayoral misstep or the shenanigans at City Hall, but only a tiny fraction will really have something worth reading.

It's devastating to know that few people would care if they lost their town's only newspaper, and not at all because I'm a journalist and freelance writer. I've had a unique opportunity to contribute to the local news, but it's unlikely to happen in Dallas, where a kajillion out-of-work, frustrated journalists with far more experience than I are competing for the few remaining slots at the only game in town. But I do care deeply about the newspaper, not the least because -- despite what some of the respondents say in the Pew survey linked above -- local TV news shows bleed mediocrity. I rarely watch the local news here in Grand Junction, and I'm likely not going to change once I'm back in Dallas.

TV news reporting barely skims the surface of the news, and it certainly never strays beyond offering up the most basic of facts. To really understand the context of what's happening, I turn to the local newspaper, where reporters and editors cull the sound-bites to uncover bits of the truth. Sometimes they get it right, but more often than not they give the reader more insight than she could ever hope to get from watching a ten-second video on the 10 o'clock babblefest. And with the newspaper, at least you're spared all the "banter." Oy, the banter. Is it any wonder that they're referred to as personalities and not reporters? (I suppose that's still a step-up from Hairdo, but not by much.)

I remain optimistic that cooler, more practical heads will prevail and that the "death of journalism," as declared by gloomy prognosticators, will be nothing but a mere bump in the road. I refuse to believe that we are creating a world that will no longer recognize quality writing, critical analyses and solid investigative reporting. I can't imagine that we will soon live in a society that will rather get crappy content online so long as it's free, rather than pay for the really good stuff that we used to take for granted. It may be naive of me to believe that such a world couldn't possibly survive, much less thrive, but I have faith that we're a lot smarter than that.

Goodbye, AdSense

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 16:21:00 +0000

A year or so ago, I removed Amazon.com's links on my site because of growing concern of their obvious attempts to monopolize the publishing sphere, both off- and online. I will admit that I still do purchase from the site; the current state of the economy means lots of penny-pinching where we can do it, regardless of the source. Heck, I might start going to Wal-Mart again. (But probably not.)

Now I'm removing Google AdSense from my blog pages. An email sent to all Google AdSense partners yesterday announced that the search engine giant will now begin to track the sites that blog readers visit so that the ads will be tailored to their "interests," e.g., "sports enthusiast." (That's an example Google mentioned in the email.) The letter informed us that we must now change our privacy policies to reflect these new changes.

Welllllll. No. I have one privacy policy on all my blogs: Any information you send via this blog (e.g., your email address if you choose to subscribe via email) is used solely for the purpose for which you gave that info, and nothing more. I don't use the info to send anything other than updates to this blog; if you send me a direct email, I use that address only to respond to you personally, not to bombard you with even a single page of spam. And I certainly don't want any visitors to this blog to have to worry about any tracking service that follows them around the Internet.

So I've removed all Google AdSense ads from this blog and will do the same for the others that I maintain. Eventually I want to create advertiser space for companies/individuals to buy directly, but for now, whatever advertising is on this page is from non-Google networks with which I'm affiliated but which don't [yet?] use tracking services.

When it rains...

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 20:09:00 +0000

So B. and I are moving to Dallas next week, and here's what the universe has thrown in our direction:

a) I caught a weird sore throat/flu/cold combo on Monday, and now I get out of breath just climbing up the stairs. Weird, because I just ran 4.5 miles on Sunday at a nice, strong clip and felt amazing. Guess I should've taken myself more seriously whenever I scrawled "Need more sleep!" on my running journal.

b) I was chewing on some chicken the other day when I felt a dull pain in my mouth. I checked out my teeth that night and realized that a filling I've had for 20-odd years has chipped off. Nice. My dentist is out of town all week (spring break!?), so after some frantic calling-around I was able to get an appointment tomorrow with a dentist across the hall from my usual guy.

c) I still haven't been able to go on remission with my ulcerative colitis -- after several months' of trying out different medications and diets -- so I've made an appointment to see my GI doc on Tuesday, i.e., the day before we're scheduled to leave for Dallas. I guess I should consider myself lucky that I was able to nab an appointment at all, as he's out of town this entire week as well. (Spring break?!)

I've rescheduled a bunch of last-minute coffees and lunches with friends, and now I'm worried that I won't be able to say goodbye to some folks. Yikes. When we said that the decision to leave GJ was "sudden," I guess it didn't occur to us just how sudden it really is.

We were really on schedule to have everything packed up by the end of this week, but with my illness that's all up in the air now. B. has had to do everything pretty much by himself, as it tires me out just going up the stairs. I'm usually asleep by 9:30 pm and able to crawl out of bed by 9:00 am, which is probably good for my body, but I still lack the energy to do more than work on the laptop and watch hours of daytime TV.

I'm also very, very lucky in that I don't have any assignments at all for the next two weeks. I do have my [final!!!] column due on Tuesday, but other than that, I don't have any commitments. I should be panicking, but I have all the work I need to keep me busy until we get settled in our temporary quarters at my brother's house in Irving. My body's taught me that there's really only so much it can take before it gives out on me, so for once I'm heeding its call to get lots of rest before I subject it to more stress next week. Five days of being on the road! Woo-hoo!

The Golden Rule of Freelancing

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 15:16:00 +0000

A meeting with an editor the other day gave me a huge, much-needed ego-boost. She mentioned several of the writers with whom she's worked in the past who have made her professional days a nightmare filled with arrogant demands, prima donna attitude or just plain cluelessness. She pointed to my reliability and professionalism and unfailing good nature, and me being someone who was finally learned to just accept a compliment with a simple Thank You rather than arguing profusely with her, I said, well, Thank you.

These are my competition. If you're a writer, these are your competition, too. I love reading those Writer's Digest articles featuring true-to-life, rejected query letters and proposals, the ones threatening suicide if the publisher doesn't accept the manuscript, or the ones listing all the editors who had rejected the submission before landing on the current editor's desk. They remind me that, even with all the statistics out there about slush piles and the number of stories an editor may reject, the vast majority of those are actually from writers who have no idea how to actually write, much less how to submit a clean, professional-looking manuscript. The fact that I take the five seconds to call or go online to find out an editor's name so that my query doesn't start out with "Dear Sir/Madam" puts me way ahead of the pack already.

One thing that I've found over the years that I've been freelancing is that editors love writers who can do one thing really well, and that is, We make their jobs easier. Now, it wasn't always like that for me. I've missed a deadline or two in my early years. Procrastination has always been my enemy, one I still wrestle with today, but I have not missed a deadline in years. I also do not call an editor several times over the course of a day or week and bombard her with questions about an assignment, or worse: call her up and pester her up a query I sent two minutes ago.

I've learned a lot of lessons as a working freelance writer since that first day I was published by a national magazine, and the funny thing is, the most important lesson is one I should have already known, given all the years I've spent as someone's personal/administrative/executive assistant: My job is to make my boss' job easier. Easy-peasy, Japan-easy. And when you're a freelance writer, the trap we can fall into is to believe that we work for ourselves. Nuh-uh. The thing is, you work for whoever you're writing for, and usually, that's an editor. So to extend that lesson's point: Your job as a freelance writer is to make your editor's job easier.

That means:

Submitting professional queries and proposals that are free of grammatical, punctuation and spelling errors; are short but with just enough information about your story idea to intrigue the editor and make her want to read more; and includes a brief mention of your writing experience and publications with whom you've worked.
No calling up an editor two days or even two weeks after you've submitted a query and asking about your story idea. Believe me: she got it. She may not have had a chance to read it, though, and the last thing she wants is to get a phone call from an unknown writer asking her to dig through her Inbox to find your email. Editors are swamped with submissions. She'll get to yours eventually, and if she likes it, she'll let you know.
No sending queries via post without an SASE, or you risk having your query thrown out without so much as a glance. Also, no sending queries via post if the editor clearly indicates in their Writer's Market entry that they only accept email, and vice-versa.
No calling up the editor a to whom you're assigned after your idea has been accepted and asking a million questions every day or so. Find out the parameters of your assignment and start working. Ask questions only if truly necessary, and never, ever call "just to chat" unless you're close friends with said editor. Even then, it's just not professional to do so during working hours.
No demanding that the editor accept your piece as it is, regardless of the changes the latter requests from you. Remember that, chances are, the editor knows her publication's audience better than you do and will understandably make sure that all the copy printed in each issue is written in that specific publication's "voice." Your essay may be the greatest story ever written, one that even Somerset Maugham himself couldn't touch, but the editor has a job to do, and that is to address her specific audience's needs, not yours.
Submitting everything on deadline, unless you've made prior arrangements with the editor to postpone because of an unforeseen circumstance.

Return phone calls. Track down interviewee subjects yourself. Fact-check your work, and if required, list all your sources neatly and completely for the publication's own fact check department. Turn everything in on time, including manuscript, photos, list of interviewees and their contact information, and your invoice.

It all comes down to this: Make it your job to make your editor's job easier. Remember that, and you'll be way ahead of your competition.

To outsource or not to outsource

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 14:40:00 +0000

Recently I had a conversation with two people at two separate times about my decision to outsource my transcription jobs to a contract worker in the Philippines via Elance. My new contractor has been nothing but prompt, professional, and efficient, and if she makes a few mistakes in transcribing, then she's still a great, great bargain compared to what I would ordinarily pay a transcriber based here in the United States.

The first person I spoke with is actually an editor with whom I've worked extensively in the past. She understood completely what I'm doing and why I'm doing it. She's a small biz person herself, as a publisher of a fledgling glossy magazine that was only launched in the past year. As the publisher and a former writer/editor herself, she wears a number of hats in her organization -- co-editor with another person, business manager, advertising representative, distribution manager, etc. -- but has yet to pay herself a salary. The magazine -- a well-received, much-lauded publication -- was launched at what may have been possibly the worst time, with the economy zooming into a downward spiral, magazines and newspapers all over the country shuttering their doors and her biggest advertiser closing up shop just two months after the inaugural issue. In other words, even with the accolades, she's struggling.

Still, she has a lot going for her. The magazine doesn't have a central office, just a P.O Box and a staff of half a dozen or so who work from their homes. Since the town in which they operate is rather small, and they've all known each other for decades, they're a smoothly run operation and can get together within minutes from wherever they are. They run a very tight ship, and while they don't pay writers a lot, they do at least pay separately for photography, so an enterprising scribe with a basic understanding of how a camera works and how to compose a good shot can make more money submitting photos to accompany her article than for the article itself -- and for a lot less work! (Yes, I've done that several times, and it's fantastic.)

But even with such efficiency, she's still a small business owner struggling in an economic climate, and she completely sympathizes with my need to outsource this tedious job to a relatively low-wage worker overseas. I don't pay quarterly taxes -- yet! -- because I file a Schedule C along with my husband's full-time salary, and it always comes out to a hefty refund for us. However, my accounting software does let me know in no uncertain terms what my estimated quarterly taxes would be, based solely on my business' revenue and if I weren't combining it with B.'s salary. And as someone who almost made it to five-figures last year, I can tell you that it wasn't a pretty number. If I remember correctly, I was looking at an almost 40% tax bite.

Woof.

I have no problems paying taxes at all. I understand that it's patriotic to do so, that we wouldn't have all these great services and privileges we Americans enjoy if the federal and state governments didn't have the ability to pay for it. On the other hand, it's also discouraging to have the government pay lip-service to small businesses -- supposedly the "engine" of our economy and the last great hope we have of pulling ourselves out of this recession -- while at the same time extracting huge chunks of our already tiny revenue.

Now do you see why I seek every means possible of lowering my expenses, even at the cost of outsourcing to a deserving, but more expensive fellow American? If I were to do that, considering the relatively low pay many publications are now offering, I wouldn't even break even, let alone make even the tiniest profit.

You see, the second -- albeit brief -- conversation I had regarding my outsourcing was with, you guessed it, a professional transcriptionist based right here in the good ol' USA. Now, granted, I actually don't know how much she charges. Based on what I've been quoted in the past, though, I'm probably looking at at least $40-$45 per recorded hour, and possibly even more. I've seen rates upwards of $80-100 per recorded hour. A couple of virtual assistants have asked for $45 per hour of transcribing, so if she took two hours or more to transcribe a one-hour audio file, I could be looking at $90+.

Yikes. Some of my assigned articles that require interviews are for under $100. A few are $50-75. At that rate, I might as well save myself the money and do the transcribing myself. Otherwise, I would have just spent 50-100% of my income just on the transcription.

I would love to give the job to a fellow American worker. But considering the tax rates and the relatively low pay many publications offer their writers, it's just not feasible. Perhaps in the future, when I can command $4/word assignments from Vogue and Harper's Bazaar. Right now, though, I'm on a very thin shoestring budget. The bottom line is that I have to think about my own business before I can think about anyone else's. It's just the nature of the beast. And for now, Elance it is.

Customer may not always be right, but they should be respected

noreply@blogger.com (Marjorie) — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 21:14:00 +0000

You'd think that, in the middle of a horrendous recession such as what we're experiencing now, with Americans zipping their wallets shut, staying home and away from the malls, and eating in more often, companies would be falling all over themselves to provide superior customer service. As if their very lives depended on it. And if you consider just how close many companies are to declaring bankruptcy or shutting down altogether, what with tight credit markets and a shrinking customer base, their very lives actually do depend on it.

Well, maybe not for some people.

Case in point: my not-so-dependable Avon rep. Now, granted, my Avon rep is not a huge corporation (although the company that makes the products she sells is), but in a legal and technical sense she is a small business owner whose very existence depends on good customer service. Direct selling companies like Avon, Mary Kay, Tupperware, and others rely on the reputation and services of their representatives to make money. Customers have an unlimited universe of options to choose from when it comes to commodities like beauty products.

Sure, brand loyalty can play a role in a customer's choice of product, but in reality most women shop for cosmetics and skincare products like they do clothes: whatever catches their fancy. Even women who've experienced stellar results from a particular line will occasionally stray to a competing one, "just to try it out." Alienating that enormous audience, especially at the point-of-transaction, can result in a loss of those customers.

I've worked with my Avon rep for a few months now, at least since last summer. She has a somewhat indifferent personality and can take days to respond to an online order request, if she does it at all. Usually I place an order online and then wait for her to call me when it comes in. I would appreciate an acknowledgment or even a simple "Thanks for your order," whether via email or over the phone, but I've gotten used to her silence.

A month ago, however, I ordered several products on her Web site, and it was only yesterday that I heard from her, via a message left on my voicemail. She had mumbled something about a "mix-up" and how that resulted in the delayed order, but otherwise acted as if nothing was amiss.

Now, I ran out of my products weeks ago. I could have picked up the phone or shot her an email asking for an update, but frankly, why should I make the effort? I'm her customer, after all. As a writer and small business person, I'm busy enough without having to also add "Track down Avon Lady" to my to-do list.

Ironically, I had actually given up on her just an hour before she left that message. I broke down and finally contacted another Avon rep in town. The latter wasn't much friendlier than my original one, but at least she thanked me for the order and promised me that she would get my products before I left Grand Junction in two weeks. After I hung up with her I saw the flashing light indicating a message on my telephone and heard my original Avon rep make that lame-ass excuse about my delayed order.

Good customer service? Not even close. Neither of these women bowled me over. I've worked as a Mary Kay rep before and understand that it can be a very demanding job. Representatives who reach the pinnacle of success -- the pink car, the lavish Caribbean vacations -- have done so through sheer hard work, dogged determination, and a killer customer service policy. They do the following, and more:

Return phone calls promptly.
Take every single opportunity to thank the customer: when the latter places the order, when they receive the order, when they pay for the order, and many, many other times in between orders.
Give the customer lots of opportunities to try out new products without commitment, i.e., free samples. Mary Kay -- and I assume, Avon -- sells inexpensive sample sizes to representatives as marketing tools. In the six months or so I've worked with my Avon rep, I've not once received a free sample.
Make it super-easy to order and receive their products. My Avon rep has not once visited my home. I usually pick up my order at her house. Now, caveat: usually my schedule is such that I would prefer to be able to just swing by her house rather than wait for her to come to me. She lives only five minutes away, after all. Still, sometimes I get the feeling that it's actually an inconvenience for her to make the delivery.
Never treat you as if you're an inconvenience.

My Avon rep reminds me sometimes of something I read about Dolly Lenz. It's said that the Manhattan power broker sells more real estate than anyone in the country. Now, realistically she may not actually sell more properties, but it's undisputed that she is #1 in the U.S. in terms of the value of all properties sold. Estimates are that she's sold about $7 billion of real estate since she began her career twenty years ago.

In an interview with The Observer a couple of years ago, when asked about the secret to her success, she's quoted as saying, "I think it's mostly that I truly just work so much more. You know, most people in real estate don't work; it's not a job of workers."

Some people might consider that an incredibly arrogant statement, but frankly, I suspect that there's some truth in what she said. How many times have you heard of friends or distant acquaintances who got themselves real estate licenses in order to make money off the housing bubble? I've met part-time real estate agents in attendance at writers' conferences; holding garage sales; hanging around the coffee shop. Most had gotten a license simply because they thought there was money to be made. They didn't realize the enormous amount of real, actual work that goes into those big, moneymaking deals.

Lenz admits to sleeping very little and seeing her children even less. She juggles anywhere from one to twelve Blackberrys and runs 10 miles a day in Central Park just to maintain her high-energy career and life. I wouldn't necessarily hold her up as a prime example (I need my eight hours, preferably nine; I turn off my one smartphone at night; and I'd like to see my [future] kids more often than five minutes a week), but she hit the nail right on the head about what success demands from most people: lots of hard, dirty work.

I sucked at selling Mary Kay because I had a full-time job and just didn't have the energy or inclination to really pound the pavement looking for clients. I disliked asking friends to host in-home facial parties, which are critical to selling MK. I didn't have the nerve to approach total strangers (which I'd seen one successful MK rep do in a TV documentary about salespeople) and start my spiel. In other words, I just didn't work it.

Lenz makes millions of dollars a year because she's willing to do hit the road, talk to strangers, even eat several dinners and lunches a day to be available to her clients. Most real estate salespeople I know operate like I did when I sold Mary Kay -- I waited for people to come to me. While I was unfailingly nice to those few customers I did have, I rarely took the initiative.

My Avon rep, simply put, isn't a worker. She epitomizes the fallacy of the Avon (or Mary Kay, Tupperware, etc.) business plan, that it can be something you do "in your free time." Clients understand in theory the idea of "God first, then family..." but in reality, when we want our products, we don't want to have to hunt you down and then feel as if you'll only respond to my needs when it's convenient to you. That's how my Avon rep made me feel, and that's why I'm dropping her. When I return to Dallas, I'll be on the hunt for another Avon rep, one who doesn't disappear for weeks on end and who considers it a privilege to earn my business.

That's how I like to think I operate with my own small biz. I haven't always been the best vendor -- I may the only freelance writer alive who will admit that she has missed a couple of deadlines in the distant past -- but I've learned from my mistakes. I work very, very hard. I'm constantly trying to think of new ways to make work easier for my clients. It hasn't yet translated to million-dollar success, but I'm confident that my business will continue to grow, even with the current economic crisis.

I can't say the same for my erstwhile Avon rep, though.