“I’m not a doctor. I just play one on TV.”

Well, it’s Halloween — the day for pretending to be someone or something else. I know all about that. For years, I wrote articles for a Web magazine geared to IT (information technology) professionals — you know, the ones you call at work when your computer freezes or e-mail is down or your laptop needs new software. And to their bosses — the ones who decide what systems to buy in the first place. The articles were about “mobile information servers” and “volume managers” and “securing VPNs” and once in a while a product you’ve even heard of, like Office XP or Adobe Acrobat.

It was a little like Robert Young presenting at an AMA conference. You see, I’m no techie. In some areas 10-year-olds have mastered, I’m downright technologically challenged, a functional illiterate, Mr. Ripley masquerading as someone who can relate to a tech-savvy audience. 

Considering I wrote more than a dozen of those articles, it was a mighty fine piece of acting (and I had a lot of coaching). Heck, I even interviewed the CEO of Symantec. At the time, I had never used a cell phone.

At my old job (over 8 years ago) I won the free use of a cell phone for a month. It stayed in my car untouched until I could happily give it back. I finally got my own cell phone 8 months ago — I can call people and they can call me, assuming I remember my number when they ask and can hear the phone ring in my purse. I had 400 minutes to use up in a year and still have 311 minutes left.  I have no clue how to text someone (if my phone could support it), or why I would want to. I don’t have a “Palm” except the ones in my hands or a “BlackBerry” unless I make cobbler (though one of the articles I wrote was all about mobile devices). I don’t even know how to program the VCR anymore — digital cable seemed to throw off the process.

But there’s hope. As of my birthday a few weeks ago, I own a nifty little MP3 player smaller and lighter than a pack of Tic-Tacs. I had to ask my husband just last month, “How do those iPods work?” So the fact that I now have an MP3 player and have actually figured out how to get music onto it bodes well that I may someday understand texting…or maybe even this paragraph from one of those tech articles I wrote back in 2001:

Pure IP environments are highly efficient in reducing routing hardware and software requirements, freeing up scarce network bandwidth by up to 30 percent, eliminating the need to support other client protocols and creating greater opportunity for remote connectivity. With pure IP support, administrators manage a single protocol delivering higher service levels without costly infrastructure upgrades.

Sometimes I wonder: Am I really a business writer, or do I just play one in real life?

There is nothing that gives more assurance than a mask.
                                                                     ~ Collette

Wish I’d Said That

Once in a while, a commercial comes along that begs kudos for the writer. Like the one for the insurance company encouraging people to be prepared “for the ‘if’ in ‘life.'” That’s some writer’s “aha moment” in 5 words. You have that nice little “if” smack in the middle of “life,” plus the perfect concept for the subject. The design — interesting typographic variations of the word “life” with “if” pulled out — complements the writing beautifully. (Another writer’s dream — a designer who gets it.)

Hmmm, but maybe the “if in life” is not so perfect because I can’t remember WHICH insurance company it’s for.

I also appreciate the clever wordplay in the commercial for a cell phone company (I think AT&T) touting that it works where you do. I couldn’t get “Philawarepraguicago” out of my head if I tried. I wouldn’t have remembered the company name from the commercials alone, but I did see a billboard from the same campaign on my drive into town — way to market, AT&T.

And kudos to another cell phone company for the funny commercials where the kid talks “texting speak” and the mom translates (“IDK, my BFF Jill?”). I never would have known what any of that meant otherwise. Ditto with the cell phone commercials (what is it with these cell phone companies getting all the clever writers?) where the child and parent are arguing, but saying the opposite of what you’d expect. (“That’s so fair. You always get me everything.”)

I understand it’s a common problem that people remember the commercial, but not the product or company. (Those monkeys in the office — Monster? Career Builder?) One ad that does work on many levels (you easily remember the product name, how to use it, and what it’s for) is so universally annoying that the product’s latest commercials even capitalize on that fact. (“I hate your commercials, but I love your product.”) “Head On — Apply directly to the forehead.” Try watching The Weather Channel without seeing that one. Brilliant.

Jingles can be a great way to distinguish a product. If you watch “Two and a Half Men,” you know that Charlie is a jingle writer. Last week he was lamenting that nobody uses jingles anymore — they just set commercials to rock songs. How true. And kind of sad. No more “Jing-a-ling-a-ling give Roth a ring” or “You’ve got a lot to live, and Pepsi’s got a lot to give.” Ray Liotta’s character in Corinna, Corinna is a jingle writer as well, penning one for JELL-O.

Oh to have that talent. Imagine being able to play and write by ear at the same time! Maybe in my next life. (Where I also hope to be able to draw — I could be a one-woman marketing machine.)

In the meantime, I’ll just keep plugging away, hoping to write something that inspires a “wish I’d said that” in someone else.

For a long time now I have tried simply to write the best I can.
Sometimes I have good luck and write better than I can.
                                                         ~ Ernest Hemingway

Feast or Famine

I don’t know if all free agents experience this, but I’ve found it true for myself and many of my writer friends: The work is feast or famine. You’re either sitting around uneasily waiting for your next project to surface, or you have 5 people calling you at once, 4 of them after you committed all your time, with a sigh of relief, to caller 1.

It wasn’t any different when I worked at a “real” job. I was always either crazy busy or twiddling my thumbs and trying to LOOK busy — much harder when you have to be in an office for 8 hours or are expected to produce X hours of billable time. It was excruciating, and such a waste of time. But then, I still got paid. So in a way, it was all in a day’s work.

What do I do now when it’s slow? (I think my husband is dying to know.) It depends on how panicked I am about knowing there will be no money coming in 30-60 days from now.

I often check out Monster or the local want ads (maybe that dream job is just waiting for me — yeah right), clean out my e-mail Inbox and Sent folders so they’re under 400 each, maybe clean my desk (but not usually — it’s the one place where I thrive in clutter). I might send out some feelers to get in front of clients who might have work. Or if I’m convinced no one will call and suddenly need me, I tackle any of a thousand house projects (from the mundane laundry, cleaning, and grocery shopping to the latest torture-du-jour — paint scraping, mortar chipping, wall sanding — fun stuff like that).

And lest you think I’m a saint, I do sometimes take an afternoon nap, tune into HGTV, or go for a walk. (I always ask the boss first to make sure she says it’s OK.)

Now, of course, I can add blogging to the list — more fun than any of the above and even like working … for free … so it’s like volunteering … or doing pro bono work … so I should feel good about it. Right?

Fortunately, my current mini famine comes without hunger pangs. I have 4 or 5 projects hovering out there, including a couple of white papers to write (major deals — a bit intimidating), an article, a bulk of editing, an internal safety campaign, another editing project…all committed to and all obviously conspiring to strike at once.

The feast is coming — better tighten my thinking cap and get those fat pants ready.

The supreme accomplishment is to blur
the line between work and play.
                         ~ Arnold Toynbee

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