Lex and the Pity too

Okay, so it’s not the greatest wordplay title ever and ‘lex’ isn’t even a real word – even if lexis was Greek for ‘word’. Although it does give me the opportunity to reference the excellent Mslexia magazine.

I watched Sex and the City 2 last night. I enjoyed the first film and the series had brilliant dialogue threading through it like veins of gold. But part deux…well, let me tell you a little story first.

Back in the day, I went to see the first Bridget Jones film – me, Anne, a friend of ours and a friend of hers over from Germany. At the risk of generalising, I’d say I was the only guy watching screen one and I was probably also the only one not laughing. The German woman sat one side of me leaned over and said, “I am watching this film and I see that other people are laughing, but you are not laughing and I am wondering why this is?” I took a deep breath and explained that I’d broken my nose when I was thirteen and in comparison that experience was funnier.

I’ve revised my opinion since then, I should add, both about the Bridget Jones films and breaking my nose. Believe me, there’s nothing funny about finding cartilage in your mouth unexpectedly.

Sex & the City 2, however, managed to offend me twice. And I’m pretty hard to offend.

The first offence was the way that Carrie Bradshaw was portrayed as a writer. Yes, of course I know it’s fiction and meant to be entertaining, but it still got my goat. There she is, her sing-song voice merrily tweeting away about some article she needs to write – fortunately she has an unused apartment she can stay in undisturbed for a couple of days to do her literary stuff, as all writers do.

Come on, I hear you whisper, it’s just a first offence – let it go.

Wait, I haven’t told you about the second, more heinous offence. She’s a writer, right? So when she pens an article entitled The Terrible Twos, you wouldn’t expect to see an apostrophe in among those three words at the top of the page? Rent the DVD and check it out though.

Yes, my friends, unlawful use of an apostrophe: bang to rights. That's got to be worth two years in solitary confinement - ample time to write Sex & the City 3.

The best writing job ever – by which I mean the worst

I don’t know exactly what it is that draws me time and time again to trawling the Internet for writing gigs. Could it be the great clients I’ve met along the way and even the not so great? Maybe. Could it be the rich diversity of business requirements across three continents? Yep, that would be part of it. But it’s also the occasionally breathtaking, stupendously ridiculous ads that are out there if you lift enough rocks.

This ad that not only took the biscuit, it licked off the cream in the middle (the metaphorical biscuit was a custard cream), put the two pieces back together and then replaced it in the packet. It went something like this…

Hello there!

I have received a lot of replies to my job advert and after going through all the resumes and replies I have chosen a couple of writers [if ‘couple’ meant a dozen] that I think would fit the job well. For a job like this, a small amount of training is required. I know you are an experienced writer and all, but I require you to read an e-book that is similar to the content and tone I'm after. This position is a very laid back job and brings you great pay and incentives. You get to write about what you know and love, which itself is something you can’t put a price on.

So in order to be one of the chosen few for this job I need you to:

1. Get this e-book called – [Naturally I Won’t Be Advertising It Here!] which you can find at: [http://one-born-every-minute] I know that it costs around $10 and I'd like to provide it to you for free. But I simply can't due to copyright laws and creative commons laws. I’m sure you understand as a writer and wouldn’t want your work stolen or given away. The writer of that e-book is actually a great guy and a friend of mine [they might even share the same name...] so by paying for it you are helping out a fellow writer. And you’ll be able to afford two copies of his book in only one paid hour working for me. After the trial, I mean.

2. When you get the book, I need you to read it quickly - it’s pretty short so don’t worry, but it's still worth $10 of anybody’s money. Then write at least a 300 word article that summarizes what the e-book is all about, for the readers of my site [http://client's-nearly-empty-website]. And I need to know exactly how long it took you to write the article.

This will be your training and a test for this job – that way we save time. Training isn’t paid for - that way I save money. Good luck everyone and remember to submit the article to me by the 5th of February to be in with a great chance of employment. I’m expecting a lot of entries so write quickly and let’s do business! lol.

And the client very kindly put everyone’s email address in CC so we could write to one another about what a great opportunity this could be. Not.

Here is my reply:

This is the most entertaining job offer I've had in a long while.

If I may:

1. Creative Commons specifically allows for the distribution of copyrightedworks: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Creative_Commons_License

2. Plumbers don't so try-outs, carpenters don't do try-outs and shop assistants don't do try-outs. Neither does this writer. Money should flow to the writer and not from them. The idea that a writer ought to pay for the privilege of trying out (i.e. writing a piece for free) is ludicrous.

So thanks for the opportunity, but I'll pass this time.

I'm guessing the would-be client was too busy with their other writers to respond.

I fired my first client

I like to think that I've experienced most of the surprises that freelancing has to offer, but don't count your chickens - or your clients - before they're hatched. I recently ticked off a brand new one for the journal by firing a client.

The client wasn't a difficult person; they weren't hard to get hold of or vague in their requirements. There was just one thing we couldn't agree on and that was money. Or rather, we had agreed on it and then subsequently it turned out we hadn't. And then after all that was resolved, we ended up in some spooky Twilight Zone re-run of the first issue.

It played out a little like this... (and you'll have to imagine the Twilight Zone music tinkling in)...

The client and I swap a few emails and agree terms for the freelance writing and editing. As part of that agreement we have a two-hour 'trial' which the client agrees upfront to pay for. I try to avoid spec work as there is a tendency for spec to end up being an abbreviation for suddenly proves economic catastrophe.

Anyhow, I do the work and the client is happy and we speak on the phone - not skype, but the real phone and long-distance too. And the bluebirds of happiness are dancing over the keyboard because they know that the freelancing faeries have cast their magic spell.

Shortly afterwards, the Paypal faery shows 4 hours payment, but the email says that's for four hours in advance. I do a double-take and check back and sure enough, I did the writing I thought I had. I also know this because those bluebirds are still on my keyboard. So I email my client and ask what the dickens is going on.

The client says they 'sort of thought my original two-hours of work was a way of me selling and showcasing my skills to get the gig'. Being both organised and twitchy, I keep all emails and quickly dig out the 'I'll pay you for the trial' email and ping it off with a sense of concern.

But it's fine. The client emails back and says 'no problemo' or something similar. I finish the second two hours of writing and editorial work and clear the decks for the next four hours, reasonably reassured. So which of these scenarios do you think occurs next?

1. The client asks me to work for four hours and then send an invoice for payment.

2. The client asks to pay in advance for another four hours of work.

3. The client pays for four hours of work in advance, but says I owe them six hours because there's still two hours to be done from the first payment?

If you answered number three, award yourself a cookie, a piece of chocolate or some other sugar-filled delight. Yes, that's right, 'no problemo' has gone on a diet and become just 'problemo'.

What I did was go back through all the emails to give the client a chronology of our exchanges, including work and payment. I also pointed out we were having our second disagreement about the same two hours in a matter of days, and that consequently I was returning their advance payment  - minus the two hours I had actually worked - and ending our work agreement with immediate effect.

And that, dear reader, is how I came to fire my first (and potentially lucrative) client. And the lesson here? Even when the money is good, know your own boundaries.

How low can you go?

Wordcount, that is. The 100 word One Tight Write competition, run by A Word with You Press, is going great guns. It's remarkable how much you can fit into such a small space, like the literary equivalent of the joke about fitting four elephants in a Mini.

I've written 50 and 60 word stories in the past, but the most celebrated short story is surely Ernest Hemingway's masterpiece: For sale: baby shoes. Never worn.

The Arvon Foundation ran its own six short words competition earlier this year and these were my entries (with thanks to fellow writer Susie, who is better at archiving my emails than I am):

One survives, one dies; now choose.

Last human, online; then instant message.

Congratulations! I blanch, knowing I'm impotent.

Good to see you again, Lucifer.

Published at last and no one suspects.

Till death us do part... goodbye.

Check your notes

Every book on writing I've ever tried to read in a shop and every workshop I've attended have all had the same piece of advice - carry a notebook with you at all times. That's fine for recording what's going on around you, but it takes on a different dimension when you're writing about your own experiences as they happen.

I can't say that a writer's dairies (or journals) are any more honest than those people who don't write - mine certainly weren't in days gone by. But I did note little details which, with the passage of time, now surprise me. In the course of writing Scars and Stripes I dug out my chapter outlines and a faded print of 'American Adventures', a set of monologues that never saw the light of day. Some of it makes interesting reading. I didn't recall, for example, that while in hospital after a car accident, someone in the next cubicle was being given the Last Rites. Or that I'd faithfully recorded a phone conversation on paper with a Mr Wank, a man randomly assigned to me for a market research call.

The notes aren't exhaustive and they're inevitably biased. But I have another treasure from the past. I rediscovered - in the attic this very day - a cassette tape that a 21 year-old me sent home from New York. He rambles a little and his concentration after the blow to the head isn't brilliant. And he's a little full of himself when he speaks, as all twenty somethings ought to be. And he's every bit as sinusy as I am now. But when I hear him speak, I can also hear his isolation and his dreams and I suddenly have a hot line to all the things he didn't want to say.

Then suddenly I glimpse a truth both powerful and daunting. This novel I'm writing is about real people, whose lives briefly intersected mine. And while it's fine to use my experiences as source material for the plot and characterisation, I owe it to all of us, the heroes and villains and every shade in between, to do it all justice. I need to make it a good book that doesn't trivialise the emotional journey or lessen the impact of the loss of innocence - the same loss we all go through when we realise that life doesn't bend to our exclusive desires and that sometimes we're just dealing with circumstance.

I have to make good on that journey because I owe it to the people who aren't around any more.

"To err is human, to forgive is divine. And to forget is folly."

Post Script

I'd like to add that, awkward as it was to hear my past on tape, I'm really glad I stuck with it right to the end. And that I kept the tape all this time. What he doesn't say is as powerful as what he chooses to share. And it all helps me understand where the protagonist's character needs to veer away from what actually happened, even if it still draws upon those events, people and emotions. And hopefully I understand myself a little more too, which is one of the happy byproducts of being a writer!

Right to (a) Reply

I don't often do requests, but a fellow writer who has browsed this blog recently took me to task. He said I was being less than honest about those agents and publishers which have been a little tardy, neglectful or outspoken with their communications.

I maintained - and still do - that it's not only unprofessional to name names, but it's hardly a proven employment strategy. However, as a halfway house - and to provide a little amusement - here's a little update of my recent writing adventures, presented as.... The Face Slap awards 2010,

THE 'YOU MATTER TO US' AWARD - Novel submission 5th Feb 2009. I contacted them for an update four months later and a month after that I got an email from 'slushmaster' to say they'd accidentally deleted my submission. Seven months after my submission, they rejected it because, 'They liked it but didn't love it'.

THE 'CONSIDERATE AGENT' AWARD - Novel synopsis Jan 2009. Phone message left four months later. I subsequently sent them in three chapters and, over the eight month hiatus, left a phone message and subsequently sent a registered letter. At this point I got an email back to say they'd sent my material back months before. Needless to say, I never received it.

THE 'FRUGAL STATIONERY' AWARD - Novel submission - rejected two months later with a badly photocopied strip, about an eighth of an A4 page, that began 'Dear Writer'.

THE 'RIGHT IN THE KISSER' AWARD - Novel submission - rejected three months later with: "...we regret to inform you that it's not what we would consider publishing. We are looking for refreshing new writers who can deliver new and exciting work. We felt that your novel was an old take in a genre that has been stale for a long time." Ouch!

THE 'ECONOMIC DOWNTURN' AWARD - Novel submission query Nov 2009. Feb 2010 reply to say they're starting a fiction imprint, but the author has to purchase 150 copies- I ask for more details of their projected sales and distribution, etc. Two months later, without a response, I send in three chapters and my original queries. Three months later I leave them a phone message. Three months after that, I send a registered letter requesting the return of my material. A month later, still no response - they're obviously in need of my stamps.

And finally, as recently as today...

THE 'SHOULDER SHRUG' AWARD - Humour submission by email 24/03. Phone call four months later - they found the email and realised it hadn't been opened. Four months later, emailed for an update. One month later, phoned and was told 'We only publish three humour books a year so... like... we've already got our quota..."

A Bug's Life

Today I discovered three things:
1. Ebay ads don't live forever - they get sent to the internet Knacker's Yard.
2. My CV / resume has still been referring out to a link that's been knackered, which might explain why there hasn't been a flurry of similar ad work hitting my inbox. (Well, that's one explanation...)
3. A blog is a good place to archive old material where it can live out its dotage without fear of extermination, at least until the internet reaches meltdown. (Come back Arpanet, all is forgiven.)

The following is an ebay ad I wrote for Kyle, who had decided to part company with this, his much loved vehicle. His brief was for an ad that was original, witty and memorable. I went for a character piece and, with a little tweaking, here's what the finished article looked like. He received inquiries from across the US and sold his Beetle - everyone loves a happy ending.

2001 Volkswagen Beetle- New, Burberry

If you’re looking for a car that makes a statement, then look no further. Yep, this is it – the vehicle of your dreams – a classic 2001 VW Beetle with Manual Transmission. Nothing short of showing up to your destination in an Iron Man suit will get you more attention than being in this car. James Bond may have his Aston Martin, Batman his batmobile and the Scooby Doo gang their mystery machine, but you, my friend, you can have a designer car that will never go out of fashion. Because it’s never been in fashion – no, it’s in style.

I know, I know, it’s not what you’re used to. And people will point and stare, right? Let them gaze on you with envy. Your *sshole neighbor, the douche bag at the lights in his 911 Turbo and every John and Jane on the milk and eggs run to the 7-Eleven. This car makes all other vehicles seem like they have attention deficit.

But it’s not just a pretty face (okay, bodywork then). You want amazing gas mileage? This car has it. Point B from Point A, this car gets you there comfortably and in style. And yes, this kind or originality takes some getting used to. But it drives really well.
Which is great because you'll want to pull away quickly at intersections before the crowds gather. There’s only so many times you want to appear on your local news channel: cool car holds up traffic again; owner of most awesome car in world hassled for autographs in 50mile traffic jam. You get the idea.

So how did I end up with a car like this?
Was it a bet, a creative girlfriend who thought she knew better, or the last VW model in the showroom? It's a long story. Let's just say that I lost the bet, my girlfriend dumped me - for some *sshole conceptual artist - and I worried that all my angry tears might damage the interior.

It was a great car for me, with many happy memories of my two-faced ex, including the tear-stained night she left me, and the time I parked outside a retirement block and the residents all thought they'd developed vision problems. This car will tell you who you're friends are. Chicks love its originality and, by extension, yours (even if you don't have any).

In fact this VW is everything my girlfriend wasn't - it's economical to take on the road, a pleasant ride and handles well. You won't regret it. So why am I selling it? Well, let me say three words to you: Vegas, Road Trip. That’s right, this dream of a car will not only make you happy but the proceeds of the sale will enable me to fulfill a long held ambition to get wasted in the capital city of planet wasted.

Wanna know more? Then here are the specs:
1. 2001 VW Beetle Manual Transmission – so you can play at being in Herbie, only without Lindsay Lohan for company.
2. Roll up windows – kinder to the environment and good exercise for arms.
3. Hardly any "luxury" options – because with a car this good, every drive is a luxury experience.
4. Gets ridiculous, unbelievable gas mileage - honestly. You’ll be laughing all the way from the bank.
5. Runs great – renowned VW engineering.
6. Has tinted windows - otherwise known as counter-paparazzi intelligence. And great for looking mysterious at the lights.
7. Neuspeed Air Intake – yeah, like either of us know what that means! Just know that it’s great for the car’s performance.
8. Cloth interior, no rips or tears, a few coffee stains – lived in but loved. Kinda loved in.
9. Original owner – yes, I was its first and it’ll always respect me.
10. Clean title and title in hand. Sir VW.
11. Only 134,000 luscious and affordable miles on the clock.

The wrap can be removed, but I can't imagine why you would ever want to remove it, you might even make it angry. And you won't like it, when it's angry.

Shades of grey

Usually, when I start a post, I have a clear idea of what I want to say or at the very least some semblance of a point I want to make. Not so today. I haven't even figured out where I stand on the following situation, but it grabbed my attention and now it's all yours.

On Radio 4 today, there was a short piece about cuts to the Arts Council's budget. I missed the beginning, but I gather from other sources that the Arts Council has to reduce its overall budget by £19m. This will mean a direct cut of £1.8m of funding, affecting around 800 arts organisations.

The radio interview was with one of the owners of Flambard Press - I'm afraid I didn't catch her name. Flambard Press has a reputation for innovative authors and I've submitted material to them this year without success. That's not relevant to this post; it's just some context.

So, the owner explained that Flambard Press has been going for 20 years and has received Arts funding since its inception, and currently receives £21,000 a year. She made a convincing case for the importance of independent publishers like Flambard and that £21k is a small sum in the great scheme of things. (I was reminded of the £78m of National Lottery funding given to the Royal Opera House, back in the 90s.)

I came to the arts arena after leaving my corporate job, with two unpublished novels in hand and the promise of publication within a year. Over a year later, I'm come to see the arts world in an entirely different light. Different rules apply and it is a hand-to-mouth environment. Success, it appears, is judged by other criteria. It seems to be more about fulfilling a niche need and it definitely helps to tap into the right networks. Some things have changed though. There are people will go out of their way to help you while there are others will smile as they pull up the ladder behind them and make sure that window of opportunity is securely locked.

So the idea that a publisher can be funded for 20 years was something of a revelation. I wish them every success and I'm flabbergasted, all at the same time. Mainly, I started to wonder. Could a writer get that kind of patronage?

Character forming

I've been editing my second thriller, Line of Sight, a work in progress. Perhaps because I know the characters better (from Standpoint), I find it easier to get swept along with the manuscript as a book and sometimes have to pull myself back to the editor's chair. One thing I have observed is the way in which small details illustrate character. The way Thomas irons his tie for a funeral or the way Karl cracks jokes when he's aware of tension. Or the way Miranda bursts the bubble of intimacy with a well aimed crude comment or two.

I've also turned that lens on people I met upon life's journey. Small details, and each one of them a billboard of the soul.

Mick, who made a key ring made from a dead dog's ear, supposedly as a mark of respect.
Michael - no connection - who spent a whole weekend turning my angst ridden teenage lyrics into songs and recorded them for me.
A nameless former colleague who put on the lingerie that his wife refused to wear (once she'd gone out of the room).
The man who put a cold hammer against my temple and demanded money.
The woman who thought it'd be funny to share an intimate secret, just to see what would happen.
A landlady who lowered the rent just because we got on so well.

Maybe character is best revealed by those things we do when we have freedom of choice and there's no one else around.