I am not the bravest of people. However, I act when I need to, and sometimes step outside my comfort zone when something excites me or, maybe more so, when desperate for change in my life. I have "fallen" many times, fallen meaning "failed." And here I'll be transparent to an extent. I've had writing jobs and projects land in the "G" file, sometimes no matter how hard I try I can't keep away from any food that could cause another heart attack and adds to my mid-section spare tire, and my finances tend to "slinky" no matter where collected -- balances up and down according to my bill paying, saving and spending, topsy--turvy and constantly in motion. Sound familiar...maybe? Still, I wake each morning, trudge downstairs four feet below ground to my writing desk, and pray, read scripture, and write in my prayer journal, ready to begin a new day. I've gotten up again. That word, "failure," seems so acidic, doesn't it? Maybe I should eliminate it entirely, replace it with..."fallen." To fail seems so absolute; to fall means that, soon, I'll be on my feet again. I'll liken it to our current season. Outside, the leaves of our beautiful crepe myrtle bushes are turning red; a sign of the fall. Soon, the thin branches will be devoid of leaves, all having "fallen" to the ground, soon the be raked by me or my daughter or blown a distance by the seasonal winds. However, come spring -- March\April -- greenery will once again sprout along the myrtle limbs, life anew. Like me, every morning, after every completed project or unsuccessful attempt. I live another day, am granted more opportunity. I'm back on my feet. Steve
0 Comments
I have just concluded a very busy week of marketing my writing business - a full time venture I had not planned to return to at age 55. However, a job layoff forced my hand.
For those familiar with the business, the busyness includes sending email and traditional mail LOIs (letters of introduction) and queries, while at the same time working on assignments current and future, and as well taking care of my business accounting. These activities offset the others and are a necessity for the keeping the business alive and, most of the time, smoothly running. And then there's the "escape stuff," like writing this blog post. Back to marketing, the main point of this post. It's one thing to do it as part of your job description for someone else, knowing a paycheck for doing so is (or should be) coming regularly. It's another when you do it for YOUR business. If you don't make a direct hit and sell your idea (and eventually writing a great article or specific project), there's no paycheck. That's where the "heart" comes in. You're extending an idea, better yet yourself, to another to serve their need, but many (make that most) times the percentages aren't in your favor, and this can be determined by numerous factors: distance, not the right time for the idea, etc. But with every contact, "heart" must be present. How would I personally define it as relates to a freelancer? Moving forward without giving up. Not letting a "no" response deflate you. Not taking a rejection personally, just realizing that it's what the business entails and forging forward. But I think it's most of all having the following: belief (in your ability), faith (in your ability and universe), hope (never giving up this wonderful, freelancing life, for you never know what tomorrow, or even the next hour, holds for you), and learning from it all, rising the next day to do it all again. Entrepreneurs will understand, freelance writers the most. A challenging profession it is, and that rising to "do it all again" is maybe the most challenging thing of all. *"You gotta have heart..." Steve "Heart" - written by Richard Adler Folks who regularly read my blog posts know that I see beauty and worth in many things, sometimes the mundane. Things or occurrences that many disregard I sometimes see as worthwhile. Ignored (for lack of a better word at this moment) ugliness I see beauty in.
Last week, I joined my daughter Stefanie on one of her freelance writing assignments when she visited a 30-acre nature area with carefully mapped out paths for walking and identifying flora specimens. A volunteer of the facility took us on a golf cart tour of the area, pointing out significant flowers, plants, trees, and unique areas of the property, while at the same time answering all of mine and my daughter's questions. I disagreed with one thing she said though, although I didn't tell her this. As we moved slowly along, she referred to an area where some bushes were half eaten by deer, and underneath some nearby bushes were old, brown, and rusty colored leaves that nature, change of seasons, and time had not removed from the landscape, nor does it appear that the staff had made the effort to do the same. Our guide said (not verbatim), "Eh, there's nothing interesting over there." I beg to differ with her. While the property is home to things that, most certainly, are beautiful and have their specific importance, the undisturbed leaves are, for me, even truer nature. They leave (no pun intended) me with questions: How long have those leaves been there? What does their remainder mean to the earth, and to the nearby plants? I assume botanists, avid gardeners and, yes, members of the staff at the location could provide those answers. The "forgotten" nature, the downed and dead leaves, reminded me a few years ago of a yard project I embarked on with my wife's blessing. In fact, if memory serves me correctly, she may have spearheaded and encouraged it. While 99% of our property was mowed and maintained, I allowed the remaining 1% to grow wild and accumulate "stuff": old leaves, high weeds...whatever true manicured lawns are most often devoid of. I separated this area with an old piece of wooden gardening fence that a neighbor had trashed. I let the area "sit" and "live on its own." In the fall, I mowed the area and mirrored the rest of the yard for the colder months. It was different. That, and its natural beauty, made "nothing much" pretty darn good looking. I'll close with this, which is part analogous. A few weekends back, the Wall Street Journal published an article about visiting inns in the summertime and how, when one visits, on-site literary collections for perusal are often titles which are well known to readers. However, the writer also mentioned that at some spots, you'll find volumes that are unknown, gems forgotten (and I assume gathering dust). Well worth it, I suppose, is taking the time to really read into and see what's offered. Kind of like those old, deceased leaves, many side-by-side or on top of others, forgotten or ignored by people and time. Steve |
Steve Sears is a New Jersey based freelance writer
Archives
February 2024
Categories |