A hack like me…

The Wall Street Journal today has an article about the five greatest inaugural speeches of all time. I’ve been writing professionally for almost 20 years, but have only written a couple speeches.

I found it a humbling experience. Writing for speaking is quite different from writing for reading — and probably the ultimate form of writing by ear. Paying attention to word choice, how words work together, word length, sentence length, overall speech length, and still getting your point across — and a stirring point at that — is a skill I certainly haven’t mastered and will always be intimidated by. At my first writing job, the firm sometimes engaged the services of an older/wiser/ better writer who used to write speeches for President Gerald Ford. So the initimidation factor goes way back.

Imagine my surprise and delight, then, when I honed in on this little gem from the WSJ article, referring to the inaugural speech it ranked #1: FDR’s in 1933:

In his opening, FDR spoke the line that everyone today knows: his assertion of his “firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Much like Kennedy’s “ask not” dictum a generation later, the aphorism was not original; Roosevelt’s was inserted by his aide Louis Howe, who is believed to have seen it in a department-store advertisement.

So, one of the most memorable lines from any speech ever delivered was likely penned by a hack like me, earning his living writing copy for a department store. (Can you imagine a department store with such an ad today? Times were clearly different!) And as ever in the long tradition of copywriting, where writers pen memorable lines for their clients every day, we’ll likely never know who he was, and he’ll never get the credit.

But he wrote it, and he knows.

It does a hack’s heart good — my very own “message of hope” on today, the inaugural of the 44th U.S. president.

When a thing has been said, and well said,
have no scruple: take it and copy it.
                                                 ~ Anatole France

Who said working from home is easy?

OK, I might not have to battle snow and ice to get to work. Or worry about sleeping in an extra half-hour after a late night watching the post-game shows. Or even wrestle with the perennial chore of what to wear every blessed day.

But working for yourself from home is not without its challenges. I tell people who ask me about it (with dreams in their head and longing in their eyes) that it’s not for everyone.

You have to be self-motivated. Nobody is checking to make sure you’re at your desk, doing whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing to earn a living. You have to forget there’s a TV a few feet away, a refrigerator full of food, rooms that need cleaning, a novel begging to be read, or an Internet full of time-wasting at your fingertips.

You have to deal with the insecurity of not being sure of your next paycheck. Or the one after that or the one after that.

You have to find all the jobs, pay all the taxes, buy all the supplies, and make all the coffee. You have to be your own cheerleader — attaboys are hard to come by. The very best you can hope for is that they’ll call you again next time.

Working solo means usually being alone. No one’s around the water cooler to rejoice over the big win, lament over the big loss, or dish about what so-and-so said when you-know-who told him about you-know-what. Lunchtime is no different from any other time. There’s never any birthday cake at 4:00 in the conference room. It’s isolating. You have to have the temperament to deal with that. And no, everyone else is not checking e-mail all day long. Your computer is your lifeline in so many ways, but it’s not always attached at the other end.

And, there will be other obstacles you didn’t anticipate. For example, it’s hard to write when you can’t see what you’re writing.

blocking-the-screen

And it’s hard to type when you can’t move your arm.

asleep-on-my-arm

And yes, you may end up wearing your bathrobe for an embarrassingly long time.

I’m just saying. Just so you know.

Nothing is really work unless you would rather be doing something else. 
                                                ~ James Matthew Barrie

Simplification or Scroogification?

For the first time in over 20 years, I didn’t send Christmas cards this year.

I managed to send out client “holiday” cards, as I have every year I’ve been in business for myself (and am more than a little concerned because so few clients acknowledged them — I think it’s a sign of bad things to come in the new year.)

But the personal cards, purchased last year on sale after Christmas, never made it out of the box, even though I printed out address labels and asked Mike to buy me two books of the Botticelli Christmas stamps. Mike, ever-vigilant, mailed out some cards to his family and friends, but me…nada.

I’ve been torn about it. I enjoy getting cards — especially from friends who have kids and send pictures. I even like those newsy-letters that some people think are braggy. I tend to admire what other people are able to accomplish, and how else do you know what people are up to?

In my head, I chalked it up to “simplification.” But was it really “Scroogification”? Others complained that Thanksgiving was later this year, so they lost time in their Christmas prep. I agree; I just couldn’t seem to squeeze in cards between decorating the house and making cookies and wrapping and shopping. But really, I couldn’t drum up the enthusiasm for it either. Why do people care if they get a card, just a card, from Mike and me? No cute kid photos, no real news, just our names and a brief, “Hope you are well. Happy 2009!” message. Especially now with e-mail, and the ease of keeping in touch with people all year long, the cards just don’t seem as important.

But still, it bothers me. Am I too willing to let old friendships and acquaintanceships slide for lack of a few minutes’ time and less than $20 in postage? Is it one more social nicety falling by the wayside in our too-busy, too-preoccupied world? I, too, received fewer cards this year — why? Too expensive? Too little time? Just seemed pointless?

Maybe this year was just an anomaly in my 20 years of card sending. Or maybe it’s the year that cards became a thing of the past. In either case, it’s worth noting.

I’m still torn. I hope friends and family seeing this know that I’m thinking about you and happy to get your cards and photos. I do wish you the best of health and happiness in the new year, and hope our paths cross beyond a simple end-of-year card.

Oh! (lightbulb clicks on) Maybe that’s really the point of it all — knowing that our paths aren’t likely to cross in the new year, or maybe any year, and our annual Christmas card exchange is our only way of saying, “Hey, I’m still out here and I still remember you…fondly.”

With that in mind, I’m rethinking this whole thing…I think I need to be shopping for some Happy New Year cards. After all, I’m still out here and I still remember you…fondly.

If a man does not make new acquaintances as he
advances through life, he will soon find himself alone. 
A man should keep his friendships in constant repair. 
                                                     ~ Samuel Johnson

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