$50 Sunglasses: The Dangers of Promotional Writing

I got back from my most recent out-of-state adventure and was excited because my sunglasses have arrived.

Sunglasses that I don't really need, but I do. I do. I sold them to myself, after all.

They're Italian. Vintage. And they promise to be much better for my eyes than the $5 drugstore sunglasses I've been using for the last couple of years. Although now I will have to actually care where they are and watch out to ensure I don't sit on them!

I'm not supposed to have them at all, naturally. They break one of the cardinal rules of promotional writing, which is to love the products . . . but don't buy them!

If I bought one of everything I wrote about, I would have a house full of beautiful things and absolutely no money in the bank. Hence, the no-buy rule for my promotional work. It keeps my bank account insulated from trips to Spanish beachfront hotels, my bathroom free of Chi Nano curling irons, my sister's house devoid of Frontline Flea treatments, and my parents' yard uncluttered by solar alarm systems . . . just to mention a few of the things from the last month.

And yet this sales cynic sold herself on Italian sunglasses. Sigh. Will I never learn? It's one of the dangers of promotional writing - you are so busy convincing the target market that you can definitely end up convincing yourself.

The sunglasses will also come in handy for the next stage of summer roaming at hand. It's been hard to keep up with the blog and any other hobbies as I've been running between weddings and graduations and trying to work all the while. The next big jaunt is a drive from Nebraska to Washington DC for a cousin's wedding, and then I will be roaming on to North Carolina to visit dear friends and my storage unit. It will be hot, the sun will be out, and I will *need* those sunglasses, dear reader, really *need* them.

Definitely *need* . . . right . . . oh well. I do love my job, even if I do oversell to myself at the end of the day. Have a good laugh at my expense, and watch out for your own impulsive buys!

I'm As Old As Pac Man

Apparently, I'm not the only one turning 30 this year. It seems that the popular arcade game, Pac Man, is also 30 this year.

Google did not make a game for my birthday.

However, they did make a game for the Pac Man birthday out of the Google logo that appears above their search box on the main Google.com page.


Hit "Insert Coin" or just double click on the banner and you can use your arrow keys to play. If you hit "Insert Coin" twice, or keep clicking on the icon, you can get Mrs. Pac Man for two players, and play with a friend. Note that the second player has to use W-A-S-D as their arrow keys.

I made it through 8 levels on the first try. It's kind of fun. Very addicting, just like the real thing. I stink at the game, just like the real thing, too. Apparently 8 - 10 levels is about my limit.

It apparently has 256 levels. Dear Lord, who has that kind of free time?

Google is leaving the game up for the weekend, so why not play? Do note that in the bottom left corner of the play box there is a sound icon - the game has original style arcade siren sound, and it can get a little annoying by the third level.

Career Pick Me Ups: Client Love

Working outside of an office setting and being your own boss, it is sometimes hard to get that "way to go" love you get from co-workers in a real job when you finish a piece of work. After all, freelancing you work for yourself, and I've found that nobody gives a tougher performance review than I do. Unless I've absolutely knocked it out of the park in my own mind, there's no A+ rating from my internal boss voice.

In the midst of the continual grinding mental 360 review that I am always giving my work, it is FABULOUS to hear the positive voice of a client. My mailbox this morning contained the kind of client feedback I love to see:

"Once again another great job! I am very pleased to be working with you!"

Not that long, not that detailed, but you know what? Acknowledgment and a little praise go a long, long way in this business. This particular piece of feedback is also precious to me this morning because this is a new client I've picked up, and I always get extra nervous working with new clients. I'm also tired from having promised to complete too many projects before this weekend {what is this sleep you speak of?}, and the mental pick me up is very appreciated right now.

In the spirit of spreading the love, if you work with any freelancers . . . or for that matter, if you have anyone around you that you haven't yet thanked for a favor or praised for a job well done, make today the day you share. If it means half as much to them as it does to me, you'll completely make their morning.

Writer Humor: I Shot The Serif

After being a little heavy at people yesterday, I thought I would share a wee bit of writer humor today:



If you don't find it hysterical, well, that's why writers are a special breed unto their own! ;-)

How To Really Quit Your Day Job

One of the things that I often hear from people who find out I am a freelancer is "Oh, I wish I could do that."

I say, "You can. What's stopping you?"

This usually gets a nervous laugh and a swift change of subject. Others will laugh and then go, "Oh, I could never do that because of {list of things that may or may not be true obstacles but are usually artificial barriers in my mind}"

The thing is, if you really want to do it, find a way to do it. And if you fail, learn from that and try again.

However, you don't have to be an idiot about it, and there is a lot of great advice out there for people looking to make the switch from day job to freelancing / owning their own business.

I was reminded of that today by Dave Navarro's guest blog on IttyBiz {which is a fabulous resource site, btw}. The post is called, "How To Stop Screwing Around And Really Quit Your Day Job" and if you're even thinking about leaving your day job behind, go read it. Don't tell me you wish you could be a freelancer or have your own business. That doesn't get you anywhere.

Go.

Read.

Do.

Twitter Trumped By Telephones In Small Towns

One thing that repeatedly jars me out of my optimal work zone when I am visiting my parents is the telephone. It rings all the damn time. Rings are not limited to the land line either - my mother's cell phone rings constantly, and often at the same time as the land line. Just because it can.

The telephone ringing off the hook serves a serious purpose in a small town. It serves as the Twitter of the greater Western Nebraska network in which my family lives. Information moves by phone from one end of the state to the other at practically the speed of light. Good news, bad news, weird news. . . people 300 miles away know about it in real time out here.

"Did you hear that. . . .?"

Oh, people have email. But why bother to type out an instant message when you can pick up the phone and call?

In fact, when you receive an email out here, it seems as though it absolutely must be either preceded or followed by a phone call. There's "I'm going to send you an email", "Did you get my email?" and "I just saw this email. . . " All three phrases seem to be independent merit for a phone call to talk about the contents of the message.

It completely baffles me. I don't know if it's a generational thing, a cultural thing, or a technology thing, but I never cease to be amazed at the network of information that is being shared out here over the phone even though other message distribution systems are in place as an option. Sometimes I think Twitter or some other social media network will spring up to replace the ever-ringing phone, but at the moment telephones reign supreme.

And now if you'll excuse me, the phone is ringing. . . again.

Freelancers Look Like Crap

The doorbell rang this afternoon, and I had one of those moments. You know the one. . . Oh, no, someone's going to see me like this!

You think I would be used to this by now. After all, I've been freelancing for a while now, and pajama wear at 4 in the afternoon just comes with the territory. My postman in North Carolina got to see me with a full blue clay mask on one day, too. I'd been busy typing away on an interesting project all day and I answered the door when he knocked without thinking. It happens.

Now, I know that there are other freelancer advice sites out there that will tell you that the only way you are ever going to be a successful freelancer is if you get up and dressed in the morning. Otherwise, you just aren't serious about your business. I mean, how could you possibly be serious about your business unless you are in business attire?

I sometimes wonder where these people find the extra time in the day to waste on hair fixing, shaving, make up applying, doing laundry, and ironing. For that matter, they're a lot less busy than I am if they have time to roam the mall for new business outfits and hit up the dry cleaners on a regular basis.

Frankly, I've got clients who would love it if I never showered again and just worked on their projects non-stop. After all, they don't have to smell me.

I've had to draw the line somewhere, and I fight for personal time. I especially fight for that very wonderful personal time - guilt free personal time, where you are honestly all caught up and not just saying you are so you can have a nice weekend with the family.

Naturally, there are trade offs in every decision you make. I've decided that unless I'm planning to see other people that day, my hairstyle is called "out of my face" and my outfit is modeled after the consistently popular style known as "clean". This means that most of the time by professional standards I look like crap, but I'm (mostly) okay with that.

In my experience, there are thousand of successful freelancers just like me, sitting in comfortable but ugly pants at the computer, wearing natty t-shirts left over from college or high school, and living in fear of unexpected guests at the door. Other people may be better dressed, but I'm getting my work done.