Praise, then hire, a freelance writer this week

(This post first appeared in The Independent Journalist, a publication of the Society of Professional Journalists.)

This week, if you see a freelance writer, give ’em a hug.

Better still, give ’em a job.

The annual National Freelance Writers Appreciation Week started Sunday, and if you haven’t heard it’s a seven-day serenade to all the wordsmiths and keyboard-pounders who give shape and life to ideas on their own time, often on their own dime, so that others without the patience or aptitude to write still have a voice.

No proclamation made this week possible; no act of Congress, or act of God — just the goodwill and good sense of people who put a premium on well-rounded words and the diligent souls who smooth them into shape.

And there are many of these souls plying this heartfelt trade. Besides being responsible for the words you’re reading here, freelance writers create most of the grant applications, e-commerce strategies and advertising copy that shape our world. They break news and they build reputations; they churn out blogs and business plans, pastorals and poems. In fact, you probably can’t make it through the day without seeing a freelancer’s work in ink or digital print.

So, this week, show your appreciation by giving a freelancer more than just a smile. Become acquainted with and support such prime sites for freelancers as the Editorial Freelancers Association, Freelancers Union, and of course, become a regular reader of the Society of Professional Journalists’ own Independent Journalist blog.

SPJ also offers a Freelancer Directory, where one can shop for freelance help, as well as a Job Bank, where freelancers can shop in return. And there’s “On Your Own: A Guide to Freelance Journalism,” written and edited by SPJ-member freelancers and free of cost to SPJ members. However, a small donation for it is welcome from everyone, as the money goes to help support freelancers and their efforts.

 

'Pay for praise' undermines journalism's credibility

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The crisp suits and tuxedos are put away, the gowns and evening dresses are hung as well. America’s journalists have packed their finest threads for another year, and the shining plaques and embossed certificates that prompted such fashion displays are already up on shelves, bookcases and desktops across this wide nation.

This is because journalism’s two-month season of giving itself awards recently ended; everything from Pulitzers to proclamations went out in rapid order, ranging in purpose from national recognition to just a pat on the back. It’s an unabashedly narcissistic season in which we journalists look back at our work to see what we did best, or did right, this past year, and try to justify among ourselves the value and importance of it.

Absent unimpeachable proof from our readers and viewers that they think we’re doing the right thing, it’s the optimum means of self-gratification available to us.

And yet, the implied veracity has come into question with me. Thanks to a particular incident, I wonder, especially now, how many of those honors truly recognized laudable effort — or whether they are the result of cash guarantees.

I didn’t use to wonder. As president of the St. Louis Chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists, part of my responsibility has been to assist other SPJ chapters in evaluating submissions for their annual awards, so they could avoid the appearance of currying favors from friends and colleagues. To juxtapose even more space between thought and deed, SPJ urges contest administrators to seek that assistance well away from their chapters’ membership areas. The closest chapter I assisted this year was a six-hour drive from me.

This year, my third consecutive as a judge, I volunteered to assess submissions for five different competitions — one of them national and four regional, or two more competitions than last year. Looking back, I’m sure though that one of those chapters won’t ring up my number again.

Before the explanation, a little background: Besides recognizing excellent work and stroking egos, awards contests can rake in a lot of money. Organizers often attach entry fees per submission, ranging from a few bucks to tens of dollars, ostensibly to offset administrative costs but also to generate operating funds for the chapters. For example, imagine a particular award category attracts two dozen entries. Charging $10 per entry nets a fast $240 in pocket for a chapter before even the invitations go out.

Multiply that by, say, 80 categories spread across the spectrum of print, televised and digital media, and the chapter is looking at potentially thousands of dollars to not only spend on impressive looking plaques and certificates to hand out at tony venues where food is served and fashions much nicer than office wear is de rigueur, but also bank a few bucks for other special events, scholarships and professional training. 

This kind of thing is not unique to journalism; awards are handed out in much the same way across the scope of professions, each with its own rationale for assessing fees. One would think though that journalism, prominent among them, eschews guarantees of praise to go with those payments, if only to ensure the notion that its award-giving smacks of the same objectivity attempted in its news coverage.

Think again. As my award-judging obligation wound down I received an email from a contest organizer who was dismayed with my selections — not so much regarding my overall judgment as the lack thereof for a handful of categories. In other words, where I judged the entries to be wholly substandard, I left the category blank, ensuring no award.

“Perhaps I was unclear in my instructions, and for that I apologize,” the contest organizer wrote to me about a week after I made my choices. “These entrants paid the submission fee. We should show that they are getting something for their fee.”

Absent that, he continued, they may decide to not make submissions for future contests. And we need the money; the awards are central to our fundraising efforts.

I tried to shore up my position by reminding him that the five reporting categories I left blank had just one or two entries total for three potential awards — first, second, third and honorable mention — and that the entries themselves were laughably far off the award-winning mark: unenterprising, perhaps culled from batch-distributed public relations announcements and devoid of sourcing that might prove to me the reporters attempted to verify a shred of their PR content. In a couple instances, what struck me was that the florid wording of the original PR release had oozed through into the story.

Granted, I was not certain of the story origins. But after 30 years in this business, much of it spent coaxing good writing from bad, I have come to recognize patterns of writing, and that recognition is fairly bankable.

The awards organizer, perhaps immune to my argument, graciously deflected my concern.

“We appreciate your time and effort,” he wrote back. “Please send back the entries you judged for the categories in question, and we’ll have the awards committee review your decisions.”

I did as advised, and a few weeks later I checked the contest website for the results. Sure enough, there were the categories I had judged and left blank newly filled with winners in each and with carefully worded platitudes attached. The circle of this particular contest remained unbroken, no matter my noble intent.

Maybe I’m may be part of a dwindling contingent that believes awards and honors should recognize true exceptionality. The Pulitzer committee, at least, is a member of this group, charging $50 per Pulitzer-prize entry while not at the same time issuing awards like a supermarket coupon dispenser. That entry fee opens the door to contestants; it doesn’t ensure them one of the silver-and-gold medallions.

When any of us promise awards for the price of entry, no matter the profession, we cheapen not just the award but also the work it was intended to honor. The organizers for all journalism awards need to keep that in mind, lest their efforts to distribute praise and bolster funds also chip away the foundation of journalism’s credibility.

Nuance matters in shooting video

(This post first appeared in the May/June 2012 issue of Quill, the magazine of the Society of Professional Journalists.)

In the mad rush by journalists to become multilingual in the language of multimedia, a few finer points can get cropped out of the picture. Key among them: nuance. Lacking this, attempts at quality journalism will seem a little less so, to journalists as well as their audiences.

For example, in print journalism, it’s crucial to know that most words have many definitions, intended and implied, and the context either way can make the difference between enlightening readers or confusing them. Radio talent understands this, too, and is adept at conveying additional meaning through pronunciation and delivery.

Meanwhile, videography incorporates both sets of nuances and brings another that’s purely visual in scope, something many seasoned journalists are wrestling with as video news-gathering rises in prominence and importance. These nuances do not come bundled with the technology, though; they are, like verbal and audio knowledge, products of wisdom acquired over years of practice and error.

Thus, while it’s one thing to know how to use video technology, it’s quite another to use it properly and effectively, to bring out a news story’s layers and colors. So, be sure to make room for nuance in video, the better to keep an audience engaged.

Among the nuances that deserve attention:

Humanity: The more complex a story, the harder it will be to explain all its facets. That’s why it’s more effective to narrow the story’s focus onto one person, one character, who embodies the issue. Pull the audience into that character’s life and explain how this one person fits inside the larger issue. People relate to people better than broad concepts or ideas. Show how the central concept or idea has affected this single character.

Personality: If you’re the one in front of the camera, do not fear the lens, as the audience will see that fear. Look directly into the lens, taking care not to read from cues or prompts. This way, the delivery looks natural, the conversation seems personal, and nothing appears scripted. Audiences also can sense that there’s a script nearby and will be just as distracted in listening to it as you are reading from it.

Energy: Don’t just talk to the lens; show energy and commitment while delivering the message. Bring all that energy to the camera if you want the audience to bring all of its attention in return. When the subject material makes this difficult, it may be easier to also attach a purpose to the delivery, such as getting the audience to laugh or cry or to have it ponder a particular point.

Brevity: Audiences give videographers just seconds to make their case, then only seconds more to explain why audience members should even care. So don’t waste the audience’s time or patience. Make the video’s main point in one shot, preferably unedited, because viewers tend to trust clear, straightforward messages to ones that are filled with edits. After that, keep the video’s maximum running time at three to five minutes. Not only does this respect the audience’s time, it reduces the potential for errors in the final product.

Clarity: Speaking of the final product, take care to include only the essential elements in any video clip. The best way to do this is edit out the beginning and end of the clip, where you’re stepping in and out of the frame. There’s a theory that leaving in the rough edges around a clip makes the end result seem more natural and inviting. But news trumps “natural” when it comes to credibility. Stick to using clean clips and resist the urge to “edit in” more than what the clip is saying. 

 

Social media and the news

This spring, I gave a presentation at the Society of Professional Journalists' Region 7 Conference, held this year at Iowa State University in Ames, Iowa, where I discussed briefly how best to implement social media in journalism. There is much more depth to the discussion than this, so consider the presentation a primer, not a guide.

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As social media use in journalism continues to grow, the scope of this discussion and the best practices that go along with it will broaden, to the point where one day may become the central theme of journalism. That's why there's no better time like the present to start the discussion in earnest, and start it with presentations like this one. I hope it helped you in some way, and I encourage input regardless.

How to get a newspaper editor's attention

(This post first appeared in The Independent Journalist, the freelancing blog of the Society of Professional Journalists.)

The calls, emails and tweets started flowing in around during the holidays, coming across my desk at a rate of about half a dozen daily. Many more landed among my colleagues. They usually say something like this:

"I wrote this piece and thought you might like it," says the introduction to one email.

"Sure, it's a blog post, but it's a subject that interests everyone," says another.

"I'd love to write about sports. I'm a big fan," says one caller.

This time of year, aspiring writers drop hints, notes and whole unsolicited stories on newspapers like new snow with the intention of publishing those stories and getting paid for them. I think of it as a different kind of holiday tradition: as Christmas-related bills mount, these optimistic writers try to salve their financial wounds by banging out what they consider "news" and expecting a newspaper editor to read it as such, thus publishing it in the next day's paper and paying generously for the writers' work by week's end, or at least before the next credit card statement arrives.

But most of these gratuitous pitches and contributions wind up deleted, erased, ignored, because their writers failed at good reporting.

Sure, newspapers long have relied on contributing writers or freelancers to report news particularly when their full-time staffs were swamped with other work. The need for freelancers is acute now since newspapers nationwide have cut about one-third of their staffs over the past decade.

But today as decades before, newspapers do not accept anything and everything submitted to them for publication as "news." The stories appearing in today's print pages or online are products of careful planning, research and attention to detail. Even breaking news coverage requires rapid incisive analysis by teams of reporters and editors — freelancers sometimes among them — to determine how and why something happened and why it's what journalists like to call "newsworthy."

So, before you ship that free-form story to the nearest newspaper, stop for moment to understand first what it takes to attract a newspaper editor's attention:

First, you have to read the newspaper — This sounds pitifully obvious. In reality, it's pitiful how many solicitations that come to newspapers are ignorant on their face, as the writers are blind to the newspaper's greater purpose. Each paper serves as a kind of window onto the community, and the communities themselves are distinct. Thus, what interests readers or is newsworthy in St. Louis may not warrant similar attention in Sheboygan, Wis., or Syracuse, N.Y. Reading the newspaper carefully every day reveals the distinction. Consider how a newspaper is organized and edited, and where certain topics routinely appear. In other words, study the newspaper before trying to write for it.

Sell the story, not yourself — Prospective freelancers often try to tell their life stories when all an editor wants to know is whether the writer's idea is worth attention. Concentrate on explaining the story's importance in one or two short sentences, focusing on the key questions all news stories try to answer: who what, when, where, why and how.

Remember, there is no "I" in news — What you think, feel or believe about the news is not important; don't try passing off a recent blog post or journal entry as a news story. Cite only the facts in a story pitch; leave out your opinion. Because everyone has an opinion, but not everyone has the facts.

Provide verifiable sources — Newspapers aim to steer clear of bias in its news, leaving that instead to the commentary pages, thus some editors may want to check the validity of a freelancer's idea before committing to it. Providing at least three independent sources that editors can contact if they wish will sell a story pitch better than if there are none.

Send your pitch to the proper place — Story ideas relating to sports should not go to the news or features editors. Find out who the editors are that work with freelancers and accept story ideas, and craft pitches and queries to them specifically.

Pay attention to quality, quantity — Besides determining the proper editor for submissions, make sure to spell the editor's name correctly. For that matter, pay careful attention to fixing spelling and grammar errors before sending any correspondence. Most newspapers also adhere to "style" guidelines outlined by The Associated Press. Furthermore, if a story calls for a specific length, say 500 words, avoid writing even one word more than that. Not following such a simple direction may prompt time-challenged editors to hit the "delete" key.

Keep an open mind about being edited — Even the world's best journalists need editors, so don't think your work is much better. But don't take editing personally. Accept that stories may be trimmed or adjusted for length before publication. Tight, precise writing and rigid adherence to a prearranged story length go a long way toward preventing this.

Small potatoes are better than no potatoes — It used to be that newspapers paid well for freelance work. These days, big paychecks are rare, $25 to $50 per published story being typical and non-negotiable.

Don't be discouraged, but don't be a pest, either — Upon making a pitch, if a newspaper editor has not yet responded, wait three or four days before following up politely, professionally. It may be that the editor has been busy, or is keeping an eye open for other ideas.

Your first task as a freelancer: Suck it up

(This post originally appeared in The Independent Journalist, the freelancing blog of the Society of Professional Journalists.)

Hall of Fame hockey player Wayne Gretzky is synonymous with excellence on ice, but it turns out he also had superb advice for the prospective freelancer.

"You miss 100 percent of the shots you don't take."

Sure, he meant that about hockey in particular. But in general, Gretzky's wisdom stretches wide to encompass whatever we do in life and prompts thoughts about what we stand to lose when we fail to take chances.

For writers or editors eyeing independence as a way to a life-sustaining career, opportunities abound. Everyone, no matter their skill set, requires help with words, either creating them or crafting them, and your skill in these areas may be all another person or organization needs to convey the optimum message of the moment. Moreover, the market for effective, engaging communications continues to grow exponentially.

Yes, newspapers as a medium are going away, but the demand for what they try to offer their communities — responsible, accurate reporting — has not diminished and in the wake of social media has grown more acute. Besides personal engagement, we as a society also hunger for dispassionate views that help hone those engagements.

So, yes, the opportunities for freelancers are more and varied than ever. And it's time to take your shot.

Your goal, then: suck it up. Don't chicken out.

"But how?" you might ask. "Where should I start?"

The easiest, simplest and perhaps most flippant answer is, "At the beginning." But aspiring freelancers can have trouble distinguishing the well-traveled path from the one least taken. They need advice, however small, and guidance, however approximate, to start moving in the proper direction.

In truth, the beginning can be anywhere. What matters is clearing the path beforehand, accepting sacrifice before reward. Biting the bullet.

Sucking it up.

Here are a few things that must be cleared out of your path:

Procrastination — The phrase, "Do not put off until tomorrow what you can do today," should hang from a sign in front of all freelancers. They are their own bosses, they are their own staff, they are the sources of their own motivation. Workers who are confined to cubicles have their environment as a sprawling reminder to stay busy; freelancers have only themselves. The best help in this area is a schedule that delineates working time and non-working time — and rigid adherence to that schedule. If the working time you set for yourself goes from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m., with two or three breaks spaced between those hours, then stick to the schedule. If you prefer a more liberal structure to the working day, fine. Regardless, work when the schedule says "work," and nothing less.

Distraction — This tends to provoke procrastinate and in general comes in the form of television, video games, social media, peripheral noise and activity, among other things. Remove them, or somehow set them aside, and keep them there. Author Anne Lamott says, "Turn off Twitter. ... And don't clean house." Author Carl Hiaasen wears noise-dampening headphones when he writes. And I, presuming to include myself at their level, gave up television a couple years ago when it became obvious my remote was getting a better workout than my keyboard. Indeed, that sacrifice has helped, if not quite to the extent that I can join Anne's and Carl's company.

On the other hand, silence and isolation may only amplify the ringing in one's own ears, whereas a distraction or two instead stirs the imagination. In author Stephen King's view, "Any day's routine interruptions and distractions don't much hurt a work in progress and may actually help it in some ways. It is, after all, the dab of grit that seeps into an oyster's shell that makes the pearl." In other words, be comfortable: cherish what you can work with, expunge — really expunge — what you cannot.

Surprises — Said expunging speaks to planning. The more one has even the dreary little details of freelancing mapped out, the better one can navigate through or around them. Work flow, illness, budgeting and networking all are issues that take time away from writing and editing but are essential up-front considerations for every freelancer. Attend to small details early and the bigger ones that arise later will be easier to handle.

Generalization — You could write or edit anything and everything with the notion that volume means security. Look around though and you will find that successful freelancers do not have vague notions about what they are doing. They took the time to research the marketplace for needs not already addressed, or rarely so, by other freelancers. They chose specialization and hewed closely to a small number of subjects, educating themselves each day on the finer details of those subjects. Armed with unique knowledge, freelancers can attract expert clients, instead of the other way around.

Boredom — Banality abounds. The key is not letting it slip into our work. A person in a cubicle somewhere may not have that option, but freelancers, as noted above, possess the power to chart their own course. In an earlier post on this blog I noted ways to stay busy between jobs and they are just as effective for helping break out of monotony. However, if the urge to leave freelancing as a career in pursuit of other excitement still seems too tough to shake, try talking through it with other freelancers; they may have been in the same hole and found ways to climb out.

Freelancing should be fun, something you want to do every day. Unless you suck it up and clear the road ahead of obstacles, the fun will seem only further and further away.

 

Return engagement

This wasn't what I expected — a big gap between my previous post and this one. At least not a gap of such prodigious size, prompting friends to wonder aloud if I dropped off the planet.

In response to all of them, no. I'm still here but my list of obligations has been reordered. That gaming blog I wrote? Gone. The technology writing for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch? Not a daily thing anymore. I continue to edit sports, or try anyway, though the still-tenuous state of newspaper journalism has made the job seem as essential as buckboard repair.

So, what prompted the shift in status? Look down a few dusty entries to the one marked "SPJ," the moniker of the Society of Professional Journalists. I went from local programming director to chapter president in one leap and now have much more on my mind than gaming and gadgets.

There remains, however, some space in my head for those things, and when they spill out a couple blogs should catch them. One encompasses a concept that remains in development. The other involves a national SPJ committee I joined while attending the society's annual convention in Las Vegas.

In time, you'll see more of my musings in this space, just not with yawning spaces in time between them. If your opinion of me is favorable, this is a good thing.

Right?

SPJ is my life, now

I'm writing a new chapter in my life by leading a chapter – the St. Louis-area chapter of SPJ, the Society of Professional Journalists, to be specific.

Election was easy; nobody else wanted the job. Installation this afternoon at the chapter's monthly luncheon was just as effortless. The current president pointed to me, announced I'm the lone candidate, asked if everyone in the room was OK with that, and upon hearing no objections declared the handover of power official and passed the gavel.

(Our group does not own a gavel; however, a cliche seemed a fair punctuation mark for that sentence.)

In fact, my one-year responsibility does not begin until June, but before then the current president will mount her formal campaign for regional SPJ chairman and needs room on her schedule to build a policy platform.

This is not to say we take chapter responsibilities lightly, passing around board memberships like copies of this morning's newspaper. SPJ remains an important resource to the local news-gathering community by showing ways that veteran journalists and budding ones can improve on their craft and deal with the changes wrought by technology and the Internet.

Rather, we'd like to think the quick transition represents an eagerness to move forward and impress how interested St. Louis-area journalists are in the state of the industry. Having the current chapter president move now into the regional chair, and subsequently a seat on the national board of directors, helps raise St. Louis' profile within SPJ.

As for me, I'd like to just see more faces to meetings, increase membership, brainstorm for ideas on bringing more online journalists aboard, and help out-of-work journalists continue to practice their craft to its fullest potential. I'm not sure how to do all of that just yet, but as ideas arise this vehicle may be the first place they see light.