Ink-Dipped Advice

Ink-Dipped Advice: Fred Needs a Writer Chapter 2: Writing Samples

I apologize for skipping last week. We had tornadoes on the Cape. While I was not hit, there was a lot going on as far as power outages and damages and clean-up. I did not get this chapter finished and posted.

Our story so far:
Small business owner Fred wants to hire a part-time marketing person for his floor installation business. His buddy Kurt and Kurt’s wife Sandy hire part-time workers at minimum wage off Craigslist ads, and have them do other tasks in the office. Fred posts an ad and is surprised he receives answers from all over the country, that many of them are misspelled, and many of them don’t even send a resume.

Chapter 2: Fred Asks for Writing Samples

Fred and Margaret go through the responses. There are five people who sound promising: Jenny, Walter, Brianna, Cole, and Mallory. He likes the cover letters Jenny, Walter, and Brianna sent. They are friendly, and sound like they actually know what they are doing. Those three are also the only ones who included writing samples. Jenny and Walter sent links to online portfolios; Brianna sent links to some of her previous work.

Jenny’s focus is more on the words. She talks about “partnering with a graphic designer.” Fred wonders if she has that partner in the office, or if she expects him to provide the graphic designer.

“Just hire someone who does both,” said Kurt.

“Make sure they have Photoshop skills,” adds Sandy.

“Yeah, like you’re going to get a decent graphic designer who also writes for minimum wage,” his daughter snorts.

Walter seems to do both. Brianna seems to focus more on something called “gifs” that go on social media. He’s not sure what Cole and Mallory do.

He asks Cole and Mallory to send writing samples of their previous work. He can’t open the file Cole sent him (and he even asked for it to be sent as .doc). Mallory sends him something about a sale at a souvenir shop.

None of them have written anything about flooring. Well, maybe Cole did, but Fred can’t open the file, and he’s too embarrassed to tell Cole.

“Ask them to write something about your company,” said Kurt. “Ask them to look at your website and Facebook page, and write something as though they already worked for you. Then you can see whether or not they know how to write about flooring.”

Fred sends the email to all five of his prospects, asking them to look at the website and write an ad about an upcoming sale.

Walter sends him something that looks good, but there are typos in the words. “If he doesn’t know the difference between ‘there’ and ‘their’ I am not impressed,” says Margaret.

Brianna sends a gif. Fred guesses it’s supposed to be funny, but he doesn’t get the joke.

Cole sends him a file he can’t open. This time, Fred asks him to re-send it in a different format. It comes in the same format.

Mallory sends him a long piece of something about how wonderful bamboo floors are for the environment. It’s about four pages long, and Fred has no idea how he would use it.

Jenny sends him a quick email asking, “How much do you pay for project-specific samples?”

It had never occurred to Fred that he was supposed to pay for them. He asks Kurt, who says, “It’s part of the interview process. You don’t pay for it. THEY are supposed to impress YOU.”

Fred responds to Jenny that he considers the samples part of the interview process, and doesn’t pay for them.

“I have a policy not to provide project-specific samples without a fee,” Jenny responds. “You have the link to my online portfolio. You can see if my samples have the tone and the quality you need for your campaign.”

“But they’re not about flooring,” Fred responds. He doesn’t say that he tried to put the word “flooring” in various articles, and it didn’t quite work.

“If I can write about biofuels, wind turbines, alpaca farms, and new kitchen gadgets, I can write about flooring,” Jenny replies. “Too often, companies ask for free samples, tell all the writers they’re not hired, and then use the samples without paying for them and without permission. My rate for project-specific samples is lower than my regular rate, but I don’t do it for free. Thank you for your time, and I withdraw from consideration.”

“She’s an arrogant little bitch and full of herself, isn’t she?” Kurt says, when Fred tells him what happened. “You don’t need her attitude.”

“But she said people use the free samples without hiring or paying the writer,” said Fred.

“Of course we do,” snorted Kurt. “Cost of doing business.”

That bothers Fred. To Fred, it seems like stealing. Besides, he liked Jenny’s writing best.

“Interview them,” Margaret encourages. “See who you like best in person.”

How do you feel about unpaid writing samples? What’s your experience?

Next week: Fred interviews the candidates.

Ink-Dipped Advice: Fred Needs a Writer (A Freelance Parable) – Chapter 1 – The Ad

We’re going to spend a few weeks on a parable of sorts about different approaches to hiring writers.

Let’s chart some possibilities. We’ll use the fictional Fred as an example. Fred runs a small business that installs flooring. He lives in a medium-sized community that has a brisk summer tourist trade, and “summer people” are the bulk of his business, along with a smaller clientele of year-round residents. We will spend time with Fred, learning different ways he can grow his business, from several sides of the marketing table — Fred’s side, his writer’s side, and his target audience’s side.

It’s a family-owned business. Fred took over from his father. Sometimes, his sons and daughter work for him in the summer. His wife, Margaret, takes care of the bookkeeping and some of the administrative work. Penny, a retired teacher, comes in part-time as an office assistant, 15 hours a week, to help with invoicing and correspondence and other stuff so that his wife can focus on the bookkeeping, payroll, and her many interests outside of the business, such as the local garden club, a book club, a knitting circle, and volunteering for the hospital auxiliary thrift shop.

The business has been in a holding pattern for the past eighteen months. They’re still in the black, but they haven’t expanded much. Fred would like to add clients, but he’s not sure how to get information out there. He’s got a Facebook page for the business, and his daughter talks about Instagram, but how interesting is it for customers to see his guys fitting floorboards on Instagram? Fred used to word-of-mouth to grown his client base, or meeting people directly. Fred likes people; if he can meet them, they usually get along, and when they need his services, they remember him.

But he can’t meet everyone in his region personally. He can’t afford to hire sales reps to go door-to-door. He’s tried those coupon-book direct mail packages, and taken ads in the local paper, but that didn’t bring in enough new business to cover the cost of the ads. His wife’s best friend Carla works in the library and suggested he give a program on the eco-friendly flooring he started using. Only three people turned up, and none of them became customers.

He talks to his golfing buddy, Kurt. Kurt runs a small real estate agency, mostly dealing in summer rentals. His wife, Sandy, runs an event company that specializes in weddings, showers, and large summer parties.

“Anyone can slap a few words together and send out a press release,” says Kurt. “I just have the girl answering the phone do it in between phone calls and scheduling appointments.”

“How much do you pay them?”

“I never pay more than minimum wage.” Kurt is proud of that. It makes him feel smart. He keeps everyone part time, with no benefits, paid holidays, or sick days, although he “generously” will let people work additional hours if they’ve been sick.

“I hire girls on college break,” says Sandy. “They work the events, and they post to social media and take photographs. Good photos are so important in our business. They have to know Photoshop. They are required to use their own iPhones, laptops, everything. If they don’t own the technology, I’m not going to hire them. Saves us on equipment, you know.”

Fred thinks these young women sound skilled. “How much do you pay them?” he asks.

“I never pay more than minimum wage.” Like her husband, she is proud of this. Even in busy times, she makes sure to only hire part-time help, so she doesn’t have to worry about pesky extras like benefits or sick days or paid holidays. Both of them find their employees through Craigslist.

Okay, minimum wage. Fred asks Margaret to run some numbers. They could afford to hire someone for minimum wage for ten to fifteen hours a week. But he’s uncomfortable asking them to use their own equipment. Fred asks his brother, who lives in a city and travels for work, about the equipment.

“I have my personal cell phone and a desktop computer at home,” his brother tells him. “My employer pays for my company phone and company laptop, which I use when I travel, and when I need to take work home. I wouldn’t work for someone who didn’t.”

Well, okay, then. If Fred schedules the new person during times when Penny isn’t there, they can share a computer in the office.

Fred posts an ad on Craigslist, advised by Kurt. He and Margaret are astonished by the replies. They receive replies from all over the country. Fred wants someone in the office; he wants someone local. He’s not sure how people from three thousand miles away found his little ad. One of them mentions that she saw the ad on a job board that picked up the listing and posted it.

The other astonishing factor is that most of the responses are poorly spelled, with inconsistent grammar, and the majority of them think he’s hiring additional manual labor. Few of them have even included a resume. Some of the attachments he can’t open, because they are in a format not compatible with his computer.

When he asks his daughter why he can’t open a file, she says, “Did you tell them in the ad what format you needed?”

Fred admits it never occurred to him. His daughter rolls her eyes.

What advice would you give Fred?

Next week: Fred asks for writing samples.

Ink-Dipped Advice: Holding To Your Own Standards

I admit it. I have some pretty high standards and expectations when it comes to dealing professionally with others.

They often fail to live up to it.

I’ve discovered, however, that it is important to me to live up to my own standards for myself, even when they don’t.

One of the things that I find most insulting about so many so-called “professionals” is the refusal to give a definitive answer. I don’t care if you’re an agent, a publication, or a business. When you’ve interacted with someone and decide not to hire them, TELL THEM.

Only answering if you want to do business with them is not, to me, acceptable. You don’t want to hire me? Fine. Your choice, and I respect it. But have the professional respect to TELL ME, not just never contact me again.

Sure, I get it when X amount of time has gone by.

But it’s rude, infuriating, and unprofessional.

However, it also proves to me that the business wasn’t worth my time for the interviews/meetings. I lose respect.

The next time you approach me? I set stronger parameters with specific deadlines for answers. And the price goes up. Or, I just say no.

Am I always perfect? Of course not. I lollygagged about writing notes after a recent series of meetings that dragged over six weeks. Had I lived up to my own standards, no matter what the result, I would have written notes after each set of meetings. But I felt jerked around, especially when, a few times, the day after the initial meeting, additional meetings were requested, I cleared the time , and then . ..crickets.

Kind of told me what I needed to know.

Should I have sucked it up and written a polite note, even though it would have been difficult on my part to say anything polite that was also true? Yes. Because I am disappointed in myself.

No matter what the other party does, I demand a particular standard of behavior for myself. Small gestures that follow protocols WITHOUT hypocrisy are important to things running smoothly. They also indicate a level of professionalism, in my opinion.

When people choose not to fulfill those protocols, it gives me important information.

I’m not talking about pointless hoop-jumping fake “tests” where I expect someone else to read my mind. I’m talking basic professional courtesy. “Please.” “Thank you.” “Thank you for your time.”

These matter.

When a company or business or individual ignores the small details, how can you be sure they’ll pay attention to the big ones?

Decide what your professional standards are. Live up to them, even if those around you don’t.

What refusals of basic professionalism and courtesy bother you? How do you deal with them?

Ink-Dipped Advice: Sick Time

Yesterday, I came down with a nasty stomach bug, and was forced to spend the day either on the couch or in the bathroom.

It happens.

I’m on top of deadlines. There’s nothing that couldn’t wait at least another day.

The client for whom I’d have been onsite was fine about it. Just wished me a quick recovery and left me alone.

Several others, however, who wouldn’t even have had my attention that day had I been healthy came at me with, “Oh, I know you’re sick today, but can’t you just. . . .?”

No.

I am sick.

Not having a bit of an annoying cold or allergy that I can push through, but genuinely sick.

I am taking a sick day.

That means I am NOT WORKING.

Be being home sick doesn’t mean I suddenly have the time to move an on-track project higher up in the queue. It’s not an extra block of time to devote to a client who is already getting plenty of it.

When I was young and naive enough to feel guilty for being sick, sometimes I’d acquiesce. I can’t tell you how often the clients then balked at being charged for the time “because you were sick that day.” Uh, I hauled myself out of bed while sick to do the work you asked, and now you don’t want to pay me BECAUSE I went the extra mile when I was sick? Get a grip. You’re being charged.

I don’t do that anymore. I hold my boundaries and say, “I’ll do it as soon as I’m up to working again.”

Being home sick means I AM SICK. I am taking care of myself so that I can get healthy more quickly and be more productive on ALL my projects, and for all my clients.

It doesn’t mean sneaking in extra work — which wouldn’t be of any quality because I don’t feel coherent enough to be witty — for someone whose project isn’t due, and it completely on track.

It’s bad enough I lost an entire day of billable hours AND an entire day of work on my novels and plays.

I couldn’t sit up. I couldn’t think.

How the hell could I get anything worthwhile done on YOUR project?

I’m sick. I’m not taking a day off for fun. I don’t do that. If I’m sick, I take a sick day. If I need a day off for something else, I take it off. I don’t pretend to be sick.

And if this was a day off for fun, I STILL wouldn’t be sneaking in your work. It would be a day OFF.

Sick days are sick days. They are called so because when we take a sick day we need them to get well. To think someone can “just do this little thing” (and it’s NEVER little) shows a blatant disrespect that sends up a red flag.

Whenever someone comes at me with the attitude that taking a sick day means I’m not really sick and I must just want a day off, it gives me information about that individual. Chances are that’s what they do — call in “sick” when they don’t feel like working, not because they’re really sick.

In other words, because they lie, they assume I’m lying.

I don’t lie about sick days.

But now I have two red flags about them. One is the lack of respect. The other is that chances are good they lie. It makes me proceed with much more caution.

How do you handle demands on you when you’re sick? How do you hold your boundaries?

Ink-Dipped Advice: Your Disorganization Is Not My Emergency

 

The downside of the technological age is that people expect an instant response. One of my small business clients has this problem all the time. The staff is small and part-time. The office is closed on weekends. If someone places an order at 11 PM on Friday, it gets filled and shipped as soon as someone arrives on Monday. Yet, nine times out of ten, there are a dozen or more nasty messages on the answering machine and/or emails having a hissy fit because it hasn’t arrived by Monday. It’s very clear on the site that it is a small business and there is no 24-hour fulfillment staff. The shipping date ranges are also clear. The auto-acknowledge is also clear. But people throw tantrums anyway. Supposedly, they’re buying from my client because it’s unique, one-of-a-kind merchandise. But they act like spoiled toddlers.

I’m audience engagement, not customer service, so I don’t have to deal with them, thank goodness.

When I have a big event or plan to be out of the office for a day or more, I let clients know ahead of time. I often put up on “out-of-office” message on my email. I complete anything they need AHEAD of time, and remind them, when I send it, that I am not available on days X, Y, and Z. I will get back to them as soon as possible after Day Z.

It never fails that, any scheduled day out of the office or doing an event for another client, the clients WHO HAVE ALL THEIR MATERIALS AHEAD OF TIME start making demands on something they need RIGHT THIS SECOND.

Which, of course, they don’t. Because they received everything they needed ahead of time, and there is plenty of time in the schedule to take the next steps on time WHEN I AM DONE WITH MY DAYS AWAY.

This is when firm boundaries are vital.

If I’m only out a single day for an event, I simply wait until the following day, when I’d be officially back in the office to respond. If I’m out multiple days, I send a reminder that I told them I was not available during this time, they have the materials they needed AHEAD of time, and we will continue when I get back.

If there is a GENUINE emergency (which are few and far between), I respond as best I can.

Most of it is panic or a want to prove that I will drop everything to respond.

I don’t work that way.

In the situations where there is continued escalating demands for instant attention (especially without reason), I wait until I am back on the clock. I wind up the project, on time, and on schedule, as per our contract.

Then I don’t work with them again. If they want to set up another project and the panic demands have only happened once, I have a discussion about the panic demands and solutions so it doesn’t happen again. If it DOES happen again, I don’t take on any more projects with the client. I let them know our working styles aren’t compatible and wish them well.

One of the discussions we freelancers often have is how we set up the terms and schedules in the contract, we turn in our part of a project on time, but don’t get back what we need from the client on time, and then they expect us to scramble to make up the difference.

I handle this with clear communication, reminders, and reminders about the contract terms (because this issue is contained in the contract). If (and when) it continues, I start charging the additional fees as stipulated in the contract.

I am not staying up until 4 AM to meet a deadline when I’ve met all my fulfillment dates and the other party hasn’t. Not without additional money.

It’s vital that we make these terms clear and hold them. Far too many clients don’t think what we do is work already. If we continue to let them create unnecessary emergencies and we continue to clean up their messes without charging for it, and showing that there are consequences, then we encourage and enable their behavior.

Which makes it harder for everybody.

How do you deal with clients who fabricate emergencies and expect you to drop everything to tend to them?

Ink-Dipped Advice: Mutual Information Sessions, Not “Interview”

Back in the days when I was starting out in the working world, before I worked my way up in theatre to a level where I was paid a living wage so I didn’t have to work temp jobs around show schedules (and then later supplement my income at the rack track), I had a specific attitude toward interviews. I interview them as much as they interview me.

Not much has changed over the years.

What is my purpose, my end game, when I meet potential clients? Why am I pitching myself to them?

My purpose is to be paid a fair fee for using my creative skills to engage and enlarge their audience. The “fair fee” is comprised of my skill, the unusual training and experience I bring to the table, what the work is worth in the competitive marketplace, and how well it achieves my clients’ goals of expanding their business and brand recognition.

I pitch myself to particular clients because what they do interests me, and I believe I’d be a good addition to their team so that they can achieve their goals of business expansion and brand recognition.

Work styles and workplace culture are important to this. If I’m working on site, there are certain things I need: dedicated workspace, the equipment to do the work expected, and uninterrupted work time. I want the environment to be upbeat, friendly, and creative. Preferably with a lot of laughter.

If I’m working remotely, again, I don’t want to be interrupted every two seconds by phone calls or demands. Let me do my work. I’m far more productive and, in the long run, it costs the client less money.

I think I mentioned on this blog (or maybe it was on Ink in My Coffee), the interview I had with a local business a couple of years ago where none of the above was true. It was supposed to be a marketing/writing position. Only my “desk” would be a board set up across two oil drums and a stool. They’d “prefer” I brought in my own laptop, but that it be one that was “dedicated” to their business. (I’m supposed to purchase multiple lap tops for different clients? I think not). I would have to cover reception at least a couple of times a week during lunch. I also had to accept that there would be inappropriate remarks or physical contact because “that’s who these guys are.” For a rate that was less than half of my usual rate, part-time, no benefits or paid holidays or vacation or anything else.

Uh, no.

I thanked them for their time and left.

I spend more time in the early conversations asking about a typical day, the environment, etc. than I used to. I spend at least as much time on that as I do on the actual tasks.

I’m not twenty, on my first job. I know I’m up to the tasks, or I wouldn’t have pitched in the first place.

I also ask where they see the company in the next year, the next three years, the next five years. What are their goals? How do they see the company growing? Do they see a shift in focus? Where do they see themselves in the political, economic, and social contexts? What do they see as their place in the world?

These are not questions for anyone in the Human Resources Department. In the decades since I’ve started my professional working life, I have yet to get any accurate information on anything other than a pay stub from someone assigned to “human resources.” These are questions I ask to the people with whom I’d be directly working.

Very often, I build on my answers to their questions to ask my own questions. This means we cover a lot of ground that is often left in their last question, which is to ask if I have any questions. I usually have one or two, but often I can say, “We’ve covered them in our previous conversation.” That shows that yes, I HAD questions, but we’ve talked about them, and there’s no point in repeating ourselves.

After the interview process (because it’s usually more than one talk), I send handwritten thank you notes. I used to do it after each conversation, but that got too complicated, especially if multiple conversations are set up over a short period of time. The more companies expand globally, the more people in different regions are factored into the equation.

I take notes during the conversation, to make sure nothing is missed — or later changed. I’ve had that, too, especially in terms of money. “That’s not what we talked about.” Actually, yes, it is, and I have the notes to prove it. I date the notes. Sometimes I’ll type them up, but I always, ALWAYS keep handwritten notes during a conversation, dated and timed.

When the conversation leads into a quote or letter or agreement or contract as the next step, I type a letter/memo based on the notes and the conversation to make sure we all agree. So we are, literally, on the same page.

And then we build from there, with the actual work.

How do you handle initial meetings and/or interviews? What are some of your favorite questions to ask? What are questions you’re asked that make you roll your eyes?

Ink-Dipped Advice: Short and Long Term Trade-Offs

Most of us are doing the best we can to stay on top of all the demands on us, especially the financial ones. The Narcissistic Sociopath’s determination to crash the economy and send us into recession while he grifts from taxpayers isn’t helping.

Too often in all of this, we are so focused on mere survival moment-to-moment, we forget to look at whether what we’re doing works in the bigger plan we need for our lives, both in our careers and elsewhere.

We have to ask ourselves, with each project:
–What are the trade-offs between creativity, money, purpose?
–Are those trade-offs worth it?

Sometimes they are. It might not be the most fascinating gig, but if it pays the bills and the people are pleasant, it can be worth it.

Eventually, though, it won’t be. Whether it’s a living situation, a work situation, or a creative situation, each of us has personal boundaries where the trade-offs stop making it worthwhile, and it starts to eat away at our well-being on multiple levels.

That’s when we need to stop and take a step back.

Time to ask:

WHY have we made these trade-offs?

WHEN did they stop working for us?

HOW can we adjust in the short-term in order to pave the way for the long term?

It’s going to be different in every situation. We need X amount of money in order to survive. But if, in order to earn our Survival Pay, we destroy our health and happiness, it’s time to take a look at other options.

I always try to overlap. I want to be able to transition from one situation to the other, have them overlap so that it’s less traumatic.

The reality of my life rarely works that way. I often have to make a complete break with one situation in order to make room for something better.

I hate it.

I like to put pieces in place and transition, not jump. But time and time again, I’m forced to take a leap. To gamble.

Sometimes it works, other times it does not.

I’m trying to change that pattern, trying to get it into something smoother and more positive. Can’t say it will work. But I’m trying to move pieces into place in a logical fashion.

I know the changes I want to make. I’m just not entirely sure how to make them happen. I’m also feeling pressure to make them happen within a specific time frame that has to do with contracts, and an eye to how the economy is getting ready to crash and send us into a recession. We don’t have leadership that can get us out of it this time, the way we did last time, and the regulations that helped steady us and get us back on track have been rolled back.

How do you make major career shifts? How much planning do you put into place before you make the change? How often have things gone to plan? How do you deal with it when it doesn’t?

Ink-Dipped Advise: Personal Strategic Plan – Use Opportunity to Offset Threat

 

This is a good week to go back to our personal strategic plan and talk about the “T” in “SWOT” which stands for “threats.”

One of the threats involved with being a freelancer is that often, we are part of the 78% of the population living paycheck to paycheck, without enough of a financial cushion for the unexpected. I’ve certainly been struggling with that the last few weeks, dealing with a major, unexpected car repair.

Something that brings down fair pay for all freelancers is content mill work, where the “writer” is expected to churn out dozens of articles per week for well under market rate. Most of us have hit points where every penny matters; but when we stay mired in the low-paying markets, we don’t just hurt ourselves; we hurt our colleagues.

We face daily threats from the outside world – those who don’t value our skills, our talents, try to control our bodies, deny us health care and housing and more.

It’s important to break down long-term and short-term threats in the same way you need to break down long-term and short-term opportunities. Which threat has to be dealt with immediately? Which threat has to be part of your own personal long game, which will need adjustment as you continue? You don’t ignore it; you’re aware of it in the background. You chip away at it. But it’s not necessarily your first priority.

Using opportunity to counteract threat is a strong choice.

Each job for which you pitch should have a place in the web of the career you’re building. Each job should have a definable goal, be it “this article is a little bit under the rate I want, but it’ll be a solid clip and it pays the light bill this month.” Then BUILD ON IT. Don’t stay in that market, because it’s easy and comfortable. Use the clip to climb to a higher-paying tier.

I participated in panel discussion last week about the submission process. One of the pushbacks from several audience members was that they “didn’t like” the business aspect of writing, and that they felt it got in the way of “art.”

You’re not the literary Lana Turner, and you’re not going to be discovered as the Next Big Novelist in the produce section of Stop N Shop. You need to get out there, make connections, make sure each publication is a building block to the next one, and that you’re expanding your reach. No one OWES you discovery. You have to make your work worth discovering, and then you have to make it discover-able.

You also have to pick and choose the venues and the opportunities that value your work. Which often includes fair pay.

Learn to say “no.” “Exposure” is the oldest trick in the book to let others profit from your work, while you get nothing.

Don’t let the biggest threat to your growth in art, craft, and career be yourself.

Ink-Dipped Advice: Adversity

Those of you who have followed along on Ink in My Coffee and on social media know that last week, I was hit with a crisis. I had an unexpected major car repair, far more than I had put aside. Yes, I am one of the 78% of Americans living paycheck-to-paycheck who cannot afford an emergency.

I’d thought the month of May was the start of my road out of that, and that I might even have enough of a cushion to take a few much-needed days off, but then I was hit with the car repair.

The repair is being done in stages. Phase One, the most expensive one, was to get the car back on the road. I live in an area where public transportation is a joke, unless you’re going from Hyannis or Barnstable into Boston.

The hard part is, I had to ask for help to do it. That nearly killed me. Which is not logical, because I do my best to help anyone else who asks whenever I can. Yet not having enough of a cushion to fund this major, unexpected repair myself makes me feel like a failure.

But I asked for help. I received far more than I expected. I also sent out another spate of pitches, some at a much higher rate than I expected. I received payment for a big job just completed (which had been marked for other bills and a couple of days of rest for me, but oh well). I landed an assignment from a quick-pay publication, and have another spec assignment on a bigger-than-I-usually-work-for pub that would pay well (although a few months down the line). I sent some LOIs to companies I might not have initially approached, but circumstances made me do so now.

It’s more immediate pressure on me right now, but if I can keep myself mentally in the game, and not break down physically, I should be able to do it.

But it sharpens into focus some of the things I’ve been trying to change, and forces me to change them sooner rather than later.

This is a catalyst for change.

It will be good in the long run. If I can only survive in the short run.

How do you deal with unexpected adversity? What are your most helpful tools?