I’ve just had the PR of a well-known UK shoe company send me an angry rant complaining about a very positive blog post I wrote about a pair of their shoes, in which I described the shoe as “lovely”, “classy” and “appealing”, but also mentioned that it was on the expensive side, and that the company in question have been raising their prices over the past year.
It was the last bit they didn’t like.
The PR in question is livid about the piece, and suggests that I have some kind of vendetta against the company, as I have mentioned the rising prices before – albeit in posts which are otherwise very positive.
Now, last I checked, I wasn’t employed by this company, therefore I don’t see it as my job to promote them. My job is to review their shoes, and to give an opinion about them. In this case, it so happens that my opinion is generally positive (it’s a brand I buy myself – or it was, until this PR got aggressive with me), although given that these are essentially reviews, they are not simply glowing pieces of PR fluff, but contain both good and bad points about the shoes.
Well, I emailed the angry PR and said that while I was sorry to see her so enraged, I felt that the coverage of the brand in question was balanced, and that the point about price was a fair one. She has now emailed me to say that while I should “Feel free to write positive reviews about [the company in question]“, if there are going to be any negative comments at all, they would rather I just didn’t write about them. So, basically she seems to be looking for some kind of “I promise to only write about you when I have something nice to say” kind of guarantee. This amazes me.
I should “feel free” to write positive reviews about this company? Well, thank you very much for giving me that permission PR Girl! I mean, I had no idea I needed your permission, but it’s sure good to have it all the same. And “if there are going to be any negative comments” I should refrain from publishing the piece? Or they’ll do what, I wonder?
What genuinely surprises me, though, is the “cut my nose of to spite my face” policy adopted by this PR. She has taken a blogger who liked her brand and who has written a large amount of positive reviews of her brand, and basically said that unless I ONLY write positive reviews from now on, I’m not “allowed” to write about them at. So, she’s taken a tame journo, who would happily have gone on sending traffic to her site forever more, and given her such a negative impression of the company that she is now feeling much less well disposed toward them. Oh, and she’s also lost them a customer.
Sometimes a freelance writing career can feel very much like “feast or famine”.
At the very beginning, it’s almost all famine. You spend more time looking for freelance writing jobs than you spend actually writing, and, quite apart from being utterly demoralizing, when you have a mortgage to pay and mouths to feed, it can be absolutely terrifying, too.
Of course, once you get past those early days of struggling for work and start to build up a portfolio and a reputation, you move into the “feast” era of your freelance writing career and everything should be rosy.
The problem is however, that those early days can be hard to forget. You can’t help but remember the days of living off ramen noodles while trying to get your freelance writing career off the ground, and there’s no way in hell you want to go back there. Like Scarlett O’Hara you vow never to be poor or hungry again – and so you accept every single assignment that comes your way, and end up working yourself into a greasy spot at the same time.
Rather than a feast, it starts to become a binge, and before you know where you are, you’re struggling again – albeit this time you’re struggling to get the work done, rather than to find it in the first place. Your home life and health starts to suffer, and, if you’re not careful, so does the quality of your work.
So what do you do?
Well, if you think you could be on the verge of a writing binge, here are a few tips:
1. Dump your toxic clients
Toxic clients are the ones who cost you more in terms of time and effort than you ever get back from them in dollars. These are the clients for whom everything is a problem: they’re not happy unless they’re complaining, and you end up spending more time coddling and cajoling them than you do working for them. At the start of your career, you’ll probably just put up with the toxicity. Once you start to get busy, however, it’s time to get rid. If a toxic client feels like more trouble than they’re worth, they probably are: so dump them, and stick with the ones who actually reward your effort.
2. Look carefully at your prices
How much are you charging? Writers who are new to freelancing are often tempted to reduce their prices in order to secure work. This can work very well; once you’re more established in your field, however, it can start to backfire on you, because once you have a reputation for being good and cheap, you’ll end up with more work than you can reasonably handle. If this sounds like you, it may be worth considering accepting fewer projects, but charging a higher rate for them. That way the quality of your work and life remains high, and you still have the opportunity to increase your earnings.
3. Learn how to say no gracefully
Turning down work can be frightening. No matter how successful you are, when you’re a freelance writer there’s always going to be a little voice whispering in your ear that although you’re doing well this month, next month the work could dry up. While it’s never a good idea to become complacent, you do need to learn when to switch this voice off. If you’re good at what you do, and you’ve built up a strong portfolio and network of contacts, there will be more work. Sometimes it’s better to turn a project down than to take it on when you don’t have time for it – and risk your reputation by doing it badly.
4. Make friends with your competitors
Yes, really. Your fellow freelance writers don’t always have to be “the competition”. If there’s another freelancer in your area, or in your field of expertise, why not contact them when it’s busy and offer to recommend them to the clients you don’t have time for, on the understanding that they do the same for you next time they’re busy and you’re not? This kind of reciprocal arrangement can work out very well for both parties: it means that you’re not having to flat-out refuse work, for one thing, and it also gives you something of a safety net if things suddenly get slow, but your competitor’s workload is more than they can handle.
Freelance writing is as much about selling yourself as it is about writing. With this in mind, we asked some of the employers who use our site, and others like it, just what it is that they look for in a freelance writer. Here’s what they told us:
1. Employers won’t go looking for the information they need
“A lot of the freelancers who replied to my advert just sent me their quote and nothing else,” says Angel, who advertised for a freelancer in July. “There was absolutely nothing to set them apart from all of the other writers who responded, and I’d have had to contact them with questions to try and get the information I needed out of them. Needless to say, I didn’t bother. I employed one of the writers who took the time to tell me a bit about herself, and why she was right for the job.”
2. Employers won’t ask the same question twice
If an employer asks a specific question: “what’s your writing experience?” say, or “who have you worked for before?” they expect an answer. Strangely, not all freelancers give them that answer.
“I advertised for a proofreader,” says Jason. “One freelancer responded with a huge spiel telling me what a wonderful writer he was. That’s great, but I wanted a proofreader. Rather than emailing him back and asking about his proofreading qualifications, I chose one of the people who’d answered my question the first time.”
3. Employers appreciate courtesy
“A few weeks ago I was looking for a freelance writer,” says Samantha. “I posted an advert on a number of different writing sites, and said that I would send a written brief to anyone interested in the project, to allow them to give me a quote. I was shocked by the responses I got, particularly the number of people who just emailed one line saying ‘send me the brief’. I mean, is it really so much effort to write a proper email, giving your name and addressing me with mine? Does ‘please’ take too long to type? Apparently so. Needless to say, those kind of emails didn’t get a response. I wasn’t just looking for someone who could write well: I wanted to hire someone who’d be easy to work with. I don’t want to work with someone with no manners.”
4. Your writing matters – even in a query letter
“One freelancer proofreader asked me a question via email,” says Jason. “She ended the question with four question marks. She didn’t get the job.”
5. Employers aren’t always looking for the cheapest possible quote
“Some of the quotes I received were really shockingly low,” admits Angel. “I just thought that if someone is willing to write an article for $10, they must really be struggling for work. And if they’re really struggling for work, they must not be very good. I went with someone who charged what seemed to be a reasonable rate: she wasn’t the cheapest I found, but quality was important to me.”
So, you want to be a freelance writer. You’ve scoured the Internet for the best paying writing jobs, and now you’re ready to apply for some of them. There’s just one problem: so are a few hundred other freelance writers, many of whom have a lot more experience than you do. How on earth are you supposed to make sure you stand out from the crowd?
Here’s how:
1. Make sure you read the advert properly
This is an easy way to make your query stand out, because amazingly, the vast majority of queries we receive are from people who haven’t read our requirements properly. We get proofreaders applying for copywriting jobs, people with no writing experience applying for projects which state “experience required” – you name it, we get it. An email from a writer who has read our requirements and taken the time to explain how they can meet them is a rarity – and will always get a response.
2. Check your spelling
This should go without saying, but all applications for freelance writing jobs which contain less than perfect spelling and grammar, go straight to the recycle bin. Make sure yours isn’t one of them.
3. Get personal
My name is all over my website, and is included on every job advert I write. It’s very rarely used. Most freelancers who contact me refer to me as “Dear Sir”. I’m female. An email which addresses me by name makes me stop in my tracks as it shows that the person has taken the time to find out a little bit about me and my business, and to send me a personalised email, rather than a form letter. That person will get a response in kind.
4. Show, don’t tell
Fiction writers have heard this one before. It applies to freelance writing too, though: rather than telling employers how great your writing is, show them. Even if you don’t have any published clips to attach, send a sample of something you’ve written, and written well. It will speak louder than all of your words of explanation.
5. Don’t be flashy
Yes, fancy fonts and multicolored text stand out, but for all the wrong reasons. Writing is a creative endeavor, but when you apply for a freelance writing job it’s important to let your words do the talking. On a practical level, not all email clients will display html emails, so what looks to you to like a pretty snazzy email may appear to your prospective client as a big old mess.
6. Show them your references
When you write for a living, it’s important to collect testimonials from clients you’ve worked for before. You can put them on your website, print them in your brochures, and, of course, paste them into your quotes and queries. When it comes to winning clients, there’s almost nothing more effective than a personal recommendation. As you close your letter, then, add a short line saying, something like, “My previous clients include X, Y and Z – I’ve attached some of the comments they’ve made about my work.” If those comments are good enough, I can almost guarantee you’ll get a response.
In order to know how to reach your prospective clients as a freelance writer, you need to think about who they are. It’s unlikely, for example, that the average man or woman on the street, who works in an office and has 2.4 children and a dog, will be interested in the services of a freelance writer (although they might!). Some people who may well be interested in your services, however, include:
Marketing Agencies
Marketing agencies have a constant requirement for creative copywriting for their clients’ brochures, adverts fliers and other marketing materials. They need so much copy, in fact, that they may well need a freelance copywriting service to help them get it.
Web development firms
Web developers can create the design and programming for their clients’ websites, but only very rarely can they create the content for it too. Therefore, they need freelance writers.
Large businesses
Large businesses create brochures, reports, newsletters, sales letters, and a whole host of other pieces of paper with words on them. Who’s going to write those words? Why, a freelance writer, of course…
Small firms
Small firms have exactly the same requirements as larger firms, and they’re less likely to have someone in-house who’s able to do their copywriting for them.
PR companies
Just think of all those press releases that need to be written…
Webmasters
As distinct from web developers, we’re talking here about people who own large, community-based websites, and need content for them. A lot of content.
You get the picture. These are all potential clients for your writing business, and, having identified them as potential clients, your next task is to work out how best to reach them. That’s what we’ll be talking about next…
So, I’m having a dress made. This is probably a mistake, because, as loyal readers (hi, mum and dad!) will remember dressmakers hate me. But I am doing it anyway, and unfortunately for me, a necessary part of this process has involved being measured. Which has led to the discovery that I? Am deformed. Yes.
The dressmaker, you see, provided a list of about half a million different measurements she would need in order to make this dress for me: bust, waist, hips, shoulders, distance between left buttock and back of right ear, right elbow to left little toe – that kind of thing. I knew beyond doubt that, left to my own devices, I would screw this up beyond belief, and so it was that my mum and I spent a strangely puzzling half an hour or so on Saturday night trying to work out what the hell size I am. This was made more difficult by the fact that, as we measured, we discovered that my shape was subtly, yet constantly, shifting (AM SHAPE SHIFTER! WOO!) all the time, so that no matter how many times we measured a particular part of my body, we would get a different measurement every time.
Eventually we managed to pin down a set of measurements that we believed to be accurate. We double checked these, to make sure no further shape-shifting was going on. It wasn’t, so I went home and the next day, sent off the measurements to the dressmaker, and then sat back, in happy anticipation of the arrival of my perfectly fitting dress.
It was at this point that I discovered that I was deformed.
“Are you SURE these measurements are correct?” asked the dressmaker in an email, clearly puzzled. “I mean, are you REALLY sure? Can you double check them for me, please? FREAK.” I could almost see her, staring at her computer screen and scratching her head, thinking, “Man, this chick is deformed! DEFORMED!”
So, I measured again, and discovered that, at some point in the intervening hours, I had managed to lose an inch off my waist. Yay! And also: HOW? (“Read my amazing weight loss story in next week’s Forever Amber!”) Well, I emailed the dressmaker back, and admitted that actually, my waist measurement had changed. Again. This blew her mind.
“This is definitely your WAIST you’re measuring, right?” she asked. “Like, the NARROWEST part of your waist? Are you sure you’re not measuring your hips? Because most people measure their hips. FREAK.”
Yes, I was sure I was measuring my waist and not my hips. I was sure because:
a) I have been able to tell the difference between the two for quite some time now, and
b) My hip measurement hasn’t been that size since I was in short pants. (Note: I have never actually been in short pants. But you know what I mean.)
The dressmaker, however, was convinced I was lying. And she was also convinced that I was DEFORMED.
“Do you have trouble buying jackets and tops that sit right at the waist?” she asked, still presumably scratching her head in bemusement. “Like, do they normally sit either way above your waist or way below it? Because it sounds to me like you’re deformed. FREAK.”
OK, she didn’t actually say that last bit, but she may as well have, because WHAT”S THE BIG DEAL WITH MY WAIST? And you know, I’ve thought about this, and actually, no, I don’t have problems finding jackets and tops that sit on my waist. I mean, almost everything else about them will be wrong: the sleeves are always so long that I look like I’m wearing a straight-jacket, and the necks are always so low that last time I went out wearing a scoop necked top I had to get dressed and then painstakingly sew my top TO MY BRA, otherwise I would have spent the evening, er, flashing people. But waists? Generally sit right where they’re supposed to. You know, on the waist. Such are the joys of being a “petite” person. And, actually, such are the reasons that drive me to have my clothes made, rather than buying them off the peg. Well, that and the fact that I’m way fussy.
Apparently, though, I am deformed. My waist is not where it should be. (WHERE SHOULD IT BE?!) This has thrown me for a loop, because I thought I had successfully listed each and every one of my physical defects when I was a teenager (I’m not joking, by the way – there is an actual list) and “position of waist” was not one of them. It is now, though, obviously.
I haven’t heard from the dressmaker in a few days now. I’m assuming she’s too busy laughing at my freakish shape to type. I have to say, I can’t wait to see where the waist is on the dress she sends me. In the meantime, I’m off to get my deformed ass some coffee…
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my clothes, my life and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
Well, it turns out that what I actually need in my quest to become A Morning Person is a “Teasmade”. Do you see what they did there? It’s like a “maid” that makes tea, and also, the tea is “made”. Isn’t that clever? Also: Hi, I’m Amber, and I’m actually 92. That’s why I’m considering either buying one of these, or just traveling back in time to the 1950s, which is when people seem to have actually used them.
(And, you know, I don’t even drink tea. I know that, as a British person, that’s almost sacrilegious to admit, but I just don’t see the point of it. It’s coffee all the way here. Mmmm, coffee. Where are all the “Coffemades”? WHERE?)
Anyway, having decided that one of these contraptions really would help me to get out of bed in the morning, and also being quite stingy, really, I looked on eBay and discovered that almost all ‘Teasmades’ units are made by a company called “Goblin” (I don’t know why that makes me laugh, but it surely does), and really do date from the 1950s. See, I didn’t just make that up, I did my research. Are you enjoying this impromptu history lesson, by the way? Because I could also tell you a fair bit about radiators, too, if you like? No? You’re sure? OK, well, moving on…
As I was saying, most of the “Teasmades” on eBay are described as either “retro” or “vintage” and I quickly discovered that what THAT means is basically, “ain’t no way in hell this is going to work, sucker!” Also, these things seem to be verging on becoming collectors items: there’s a whole breed of people out there earnestly discussing the merits of the 1977 Philips Tea for Two versus the Goblin 860. I’m not sure I’m ready to become part of that community, so I got to thinking: I could just buy an ordinary coffee maker, and I could put it in the bedroom and switch it on my very own self in the morning, possibly without even leaving the bed. Then what I could do is, I could set the alarm for thirty minutes earlier than I actually needed to get up, and then sit back and enjoy a leisurely cup of coffee IN MY BED, while maybe flicking through the morning paper, which, in this scenario, would be magically delivered, not just to the house, but RIGHT TO MY BED every morning.
And then I thought, “Screw that, I could just bring the kettle upstairs.”
Which is how I came to spend last night sleeping with a kettle next to my bed. I’m such a student, no? “And did it work?” I hear you ask, breathless in your excitement. Well, no, obviously not. It’ll take more than THAT to get me out of bed in the morning, I’ll tell you: because when 7am came and the alarm went off, I looked at that kettle, sitting peacefully on the floor next to the bed, and I thought, “Yeah, screw you kettle – I don’t even WANT your coffee. It’s freaking 7am!” Then I rolled over and went back to sleep.
The next step in journey towards becoming a morning person: taking your advice and trying to bring my time down gradually. I WILL DO THIS! I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED BY MORNING! Or, you know, I probably won’t do it, but I will try. Wish me luck…
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my clothes, my life and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
You know what I hate? What I really, really hate? Telemarketers who not only call me up to try and sell me stuff when I’m a member of the Telephone Preference Service, but telemarketers who HANG UP ON ME without another word the second the words "Sorry, I’m not interested," come out of my mouth. I mean, seriously, that’s just rude, isn’t it? Did their mothers never teach them how to close a call professionally? DO THEY SLEEP WELL AT NIGHT?
The latest offender was a Chinese restaurant in our town, who, seeing as they weren’t ashamed to slam the phone down on me as soon as I politely declined their offer of having my business featured on their menu, presumably won’t mind being named here – it was the China Glen in Livingston. Guess I’m not going to be eating THERE then…
Shortly after that I was called by a rep from a catalogue company. "Is that Mrs McNugget?" she asked. (They always call me that. Most of the time I just say, "Sorry, you have the wrong number, no one by that name here!", but this time I decided to play along.) I admitted that it was,indeed, "Mrs McNugget". Even although that makes me sound like some kind of crazy cartoon Scottish person with a kilt and possibly a beard. "OK, Mrs McNuggest," said the telemarketer. "For security purposes, before we continue the call, I’m going to need you to confirm your address, postcode and telephone number."
Er, sorry, but WHY? Why have they started doing this? They call you to try and sell you something you don’t need/want, but before they do, they try to get you to hand over all of your personal details. WHY? Because they think you’re stupid, that’s why. I mean, if a random stranger walked up to you in the street and asked you for your name, address and telephone number, you wouldn’t just spit it out, would you?
Now, I did think this one had the potential to turn into the type of call I had with Lynette from MBNA that time, but I was feeling slightly frazzled by this point, so I settled for telling her that for MY security reasons I didn’t really want to give her my details, and she went away. And why was I feeling frazzled, I hear you ask? (Note: I don’t really. Oh, I KNOW you don’t care about my ongoing bathroom issues – I just pretend you do. It makes me feel important.) Because these calls (plus about five other marketing calls) came to me on Friday, which just so happened to mark the start of the Weekend of No Bathroom.
No, the bathroom project is STILL not finished. We DO now have most of the wall around the bath re-tiled, but the rest of the room still looks like a building site, and we weren’t able to use the shower for 48 hours while the "grout" dried, which meant that we’ve spent the weekend driving to the gym every time we wanted a shower. (I KNEW that gym membership would be useful for SOMETHING!) It wasn’t a whole lot of fun – especially not for Terry, who had to do the tiling AND listen to me whining about it all.
We’re hopeful it will be finished sometime before the end of the decade. In the meantime, this is Mrs McNugget, signing out…
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my clothes, my life and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my clothes, my life and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
So, I need to find out how to become a "morning person". How will I do this, do you think?
At the moment, you see, I’m definitely not a morning person. And it’s kind of irritating, to be honest, because I’m not so much a "night" person, either. What am I, then? Well, a LAZY PERSON basically. Man, I love my bed. I’d be in my bed all day if I could be. Oh no, wait – I already am, aren’t I? I FAIL.
I exaggerate, of course. Yeah, I know, it’s not like me, is it? I don’t lie in bed all morning just most of it , but I do sleep later than most people, and up until now, I have been convincing myself that this was not only an acceptable thing to do, but was, in fact, the RIGHT thing to do. "I deserve it," I told myself. "All those years of working seven days per week and getting up at 6.30am every day in life mean that I am OWED sleep. And this is why I work from home, after all: so that I don’t have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn every morning, and, instead, get to lie around like a giant sloth, getting up when I want, going to bed when I want, and just generally pleasing myself. It’s all about ME, baby! And also: am a rebel! A renegade! Am challenging the conventions of society with my giant sloth-like behavior! Or something."
See, I’m starting to talk myself out of this whole "becoming a morning person" thing already. Gah.
Anyway, all of this came to a head on Monday morning, when I was forced out of bed at stupid o’clock to await the arrival of the plumber. And the weird thing was that once the initial shock of being awake in the Land of Seven O’Clock (a land I have not visited for quite some time) had passed, I really started to dig the whole thing. The work that I’d normally have still been doing in the evening? Finished by lunchtime. (In fairness, this was partly because I’d done some of it the night before. I mean, I don’t really lie in bed all day.) The rest of the day? Lay before me, an unblemished page, just waiting to be written on. Why, I could write a book with all those extra hours! I could train for a marathon! (Note: totally not going to do that.) I could SHOP! My whole life would be revolutionized by all of those lovely, lovely extra hours!
And so it was that I decided that, from that point on, I would be A Morning Person.
So I set the alarm for 7am and went to bed, dreaming all all of those extra hours I would soon be enjoying. Then I woke up when the alarm went off, thought, "Screw you, extra hours – you’re not that good" and went back to sleep.
The next day? The same thing. The day after that? Ditto. Today? Well, you get the picture.
I just can’t do it. I can’t seem to become A Morning Person, no matter how hard I try – and trust me, I have tried. I’ve even tried putting the alarm clock in another room, or hiding it last thing at night, but that doesn’t work either, because even although I’m not generally awake in the land of Early Morning, when the alarm goes off, I become possessed of an unearthly speed and dexterity which allows me to fly from the bed like lightning, switch off the alarm and be back under the covers before I’ve even fully opened my eyes. It’s a shame that’s not some kind of Olympic sport, actually, because I WOULD WIN. I’d try getting Terry to hide the alarm, but then he’d just have to lie there listening to it while I fumbled around in the dark for ages, and I don’t think he’d like that because he’s NOT trying to become A Morning Person, and he probably wouldn’t appreciate becoming one by proxy…
So, anyway, this is my dilemma. How shall it be solved, though? Well, at the moment I’m thinking it will be solved, like most things in life, by me buying stuff. Specifically, I’m thinking I should buy one of those alarm clocks that makes a cup of coffee for you. Because, I know my problem isn’t staying up – it’s just getting up. If I can actually persuade myself to haul ass out of the bed, I will be feeling fine by the time I hit the shower. It’s the "getting out of bed" bit I fail with, and this is the case no matter how early I go to bed or how well I sleep: I’m not actually tired, you see – just heart rotten lazy. So maybe if I buy an alarm-clock-that-also-makes-coffee I would wake to the smell of caffeine, and because I can’t resist the caffeine, I’d be motivated to get up and drink it? Or maybe I could just buy a new pair of shoes every day, but only at 7am?
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my clothes, my life and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
