Jessica Quillin

By Jessica Quillin

Do you ever feel guilty for asking an editor or client for more time with a project? How do you reconcile that sensation of being overwhelmed about being unable to finish something within an assigned time frame with the sheer necessity of wanting to present professional, polished work that is worthy of having your name attached to it?

This morning I had to make the rather uncomfortable and embarrassing decision to ask a client for more time with a writing project I’m managing. There were simply too many things that needed to be fixed in the span of time I had. While I often don’t flinch at asking for extensions, I was dealing with a new client who has already been incredibly flexible and understanding.

Unfinished work is one of my biggest pet peeves. Having spent many years as an editor, I know the frustration of having to fix and rework sub-par writing. Now that I’m on the other side, however, as both a writer and a consultant who does editorial contracting, I am doubly sensitive about quality control and presentation.

Yet, sometimes you literally get so busy or so focused on your ideas that you forget about things like grammar, spelling, and a logical flow of ideas. But, to some extent, writing is all about these niggly details because even the best ideas lose credence when they are poorly expressed. While authenticity is obviously important in writing, as I have argued previously about finding your voice as a writer, point of view and strength of expression can become ineffective without the basics of good writing and editing.

If last week I was focused on the big picture of writing, this week I’m all about the details. I have three major project deadlines in the next two weeks, including a massive research paper and a written deliverable for another client. Then, there’s this editing project, which began to feel like a huge black hole … until I asked for an extension. Now that I have more time, I’m relieved yet overly anxious to finish this project.

As any student knows, the sticky thing about extensions is that they bring with them the expectation of a higher standard of writing and exactness. The idea, of course, is that more time allows you the chance to finish, review, and rework your writing, if necessary. Yet, in a world of waiting to the last minute, writer’s block, and the inevitabilities of other time commitments, extensions can often make you more stressed, more rushed, and thus less careful.

For some reason, life simply doesn’t adjust itself to the time needed for good writing. I’m never sure if this is because we’re unfocused or don’t set aside enough time or because the entire process of writing is organic and thus unpredictable. Either way, writing—more particularly, writing well—takes attention, focus, and time, all of which often can go astray and require management.

This is why extensions are lovely, if you find a kind editor. Life does frequently get in the way of completing projects; but, sometimes a little self-discipline can go a long way. Running headlong into the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” if you will, with your writing assignment and your indubitably busy life, can teach you important time management techniques.

Whether it’s a radio, quiet office, or busy café, finding a way to drown out or take inspiration from the noise of the world around you is one of the key skills that I’ve acquired since becoming a full-time writer seven months ago. While a girlfriend jokes that my ability to work well in noisy establishments is good preparation for dealing with children, her point is spot on. Distractions, being distractions, can be, well, distracting, but they don’t have to be.

Yet, while time management techniques are always good, sometimes they’re not enough. Writing projects frequently require more research, more in-depth thought, and thus more work than we anticipate. That’s obviously the nature of the creative process.

But, as I used to tell my university students, the need for more time does not obviate the responsibility that comes with writing. This obviously applies to the entire concept of a deadline as a written or unwritten contract between you, the writer, and your editor. However, I think that by commencing the act of writing, we make a deep, though perhaps unconscious commitment to our readers and to ourselves that we’re going to write, hopefully to the best of our ability. This is likely the source of the sensation of guilt that I cannot seem to shake whenever I ask for an extension. I feel as if I’m admitting defeat.

Of course, the thing that I love about writing is the ability to channel these sorts of anxieties and pressures into productive work. So, armed with my extension, I’m now heading back into the fray of deadlines no doubt to encounter other unknown challenges and burdens.

Jessica Quillin owns Quillin Consulting, LLC, a consultancy in Washington, DC, focused on content development, research, and strategy for the public and private sectors. She holds a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of Cambridge.

By Jessica Quillin

Metaphors and analogies are profuse whenever a writer is asked to describe his or her inspiration and purpose for writing. For Wordsworth, it was a “spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings.” Other writers throughout history have taken different points of view on the passive/active nature of what stirs us to communicate our thoughts in words and sentences. Writing about writing seems to invite prosaic philosophizing inasmuch as it does sarcastic self-deprecation.

Writers are a humble yet self-serving lot. We are at once embarrassed to be talking about ourselves and completely obsessed with talking about ourselves. Yet, we continue to talk about ourselves and readers continue to ask. So, obviously, there is interest and a degree of inviting mystery in a writer’s inspiration and purpose. I’m sure that somewhere, if not in many places, Alexander Pope has something witty to comment on this subject.

Whenever I read articles about writers, particularly retrospective pieces, I am always fascinated to read about how these writers describe their motivations and overall purpose for writing. The questions of “what inspires your writing and for what purpose do you write” are so incredibly subjective that there literally are no straight answers. When I’m asked these questions myself, I’m always tempted to quip back something random like, “why is a raven like a writing desk,” simply because I’m never quite sure what to say. Anything I do say always seems cute, curt, or cliché.

In a recent interview with The Guardian, South African writer and Nobel laureate Nadine Gordimer commented on what drives her to write:

[T]he process of writing fiction is totally unconscious. It comes from what you are learning, as you live, from within. For me, all writing is a process of discovery. We are looking for the meaning of life. No matter where you are, there are conflicts and dramas everywhere. It is the process of what it means to be a human being; how you react and are reacted upon, these inward and outer pressures. If you are writing with a direct cause in mind, you are writing propaganda. It's fatal for a fiction writer.

Genre distinctions aside, I think that most writers would agree with these sentiments. Fiction writers perhaps have a different stance from non-fiction writers in that their fundamental purpose is to create stories, even if their narratives are based on or explore the nature of human reality.

To me, Ms. Gordimer’s explanation of her writing process is the linguistic equivalent of a shrug. Writing is at once meaningless and meaningful by nature because it is intuitive yet experiential. We write or we don’t write. But, we always write based on something that we have experienced or that we have imagined in our minds. Writing comes from the world of human thought. The beauty of writing is that it permits readers a chance to dip into an infinite stream of new and unexplored realms that someone else created.

As a scholar, I have spent years studying how writers and critics view the relationship between literature and the other arts and what these connections tell us about the art and the creative process. Since the days of Plato and Aristotle, thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of essays have been written exploring the origins of art and attempting to define the links between thought and the imagination. The reason I digress on the topic of literary aesthetics is that something of the purpose of writing is in how it affects us and other people.

My favorite British Romantic, Percy Bysshe Shelley, subject of that darned book with which I’m nearly finished, presents an interesting picture of the role of a writer in his essay, A Defence of Poetry. In this work, which focuses on the origins and purpose of poetry and literature, Shelley writes:

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds; his auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician, who feel that they are moved and softened, yet know not whence or why.

While a writer’s role and his or her reason for writing are obviously different categories, they are inextricably linked. In this excerpt, a poet writes or “sings,” in this case, to keep himself or herself happy and occupied; and, through this activity, he or she has an impact on others, however slightly anonymously. The image of a writer as an “unseen musician” obviously somewhat externalizes the notion of authorial intention, yet I think that it is a lovely picture of how writers would like our work to be received. In short, we write in part to please ourselves but also to invite others into the world of our ideas.

The notion of writing as an invitation, of course, makes us vulnerable and opens us up for criticism. As writers, of course, we do have a degree of control over what we reveal about ourselves, even if the world of the internet makes this increasingly difficult. But, it is this sharing yet not sharing of our inner thoughts that makes writing strong and interesting.

Jessica Quillin owns Quillin Consulting, LLC, a consultancy in Washington, DC, focused on content development, research, and strategy for the public and private sectors. She holds a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of Cambridge.

By Jessica Quillin

November begins an onslaught of major project deadlines for my small writing business. It is kind of funny to me that this month is Crunch Month for me because it is also National Novel Writing Month (better known as NaNoWriMo). For years when I dreamed of my life as a professional writer, I envisioned that I would have plenty of time to sit down and to calmly write 50,000 words of a novel from scratch by 30 November.

This year, like previous years, I’m way too busy to participate in NaNoWriMo. Only this year it’s different. There’s no regret or wistfulness about my decision not to take part in this fabulous novel-writing scheme. In fact, while I’m already tired just thinking of all this month’s deadlines, I am doubly excited to be able to throw myself into a flurry of writing in order to bring several projects to fruition.

As I’ve discovered over the past six months, it is really hard to dedicate large spans of time to writing, whether or not you’re working on one or multiple projects. It seems like there’s always something going on. A lot of us spend time staring at the computer screen (as I mentioned in last week’s column about writer’s block), checking email, or “researching” material that doesn’t precisely connect with the subject we’re supposed to be investigating for a particular article or writing project. There also are life’s inevitable disturbances: dishes, kids, dogs, exterminators, lunch….

This week I have the opportunity to travel on my first official trip in my new writing life. I’m actually looking forward to being able to devote myself wholeheartedly to one project for a few days. As I frequently mention, I’m used to juggling several projects, which generally have me scurrying around, writing one article quickly, editing something from my consultants, and then going back to my own work. Yet, with multiple deadlines looming this month, I’m purposefully trying to slow down and focus in order to make sure that I’m producing quality work, particularly since my time is short.

Writing advice columns and magazine articles often promote balance as the key factor in the relationship between stress and productivity. As a busy person, I find myself drawn to these articles in search of new solutions to keep my mind relaxed and my stress levels low. Of course, I rarely read anything particularly earth-shattering that I didn’t already know. Following a heart-felt story of one person’s journey to a more centered self, these articles usually advise yoga, meditation, physical activity, sleep, or spending time with humans away from your computer as the solutions to reducing your stress levels and finding inner sanctity.

I, like most people, stay active and relax when I can find the time, yet I always find myself drawn back to writing as the best medicine to keep my mind motivated and engaged. I like writing for the same reason that I like running: to get away from people, focus my mind, and return to the world a more energized and thus interesting person.

So, for me, the stress of writing deadlines is perhaps a bit ephemeral. While I, like all writers, struggle constantly with time management and with keeping my schedule balanced but not overloaded, I think that I actually prefer to be slightly too busy. Being a little stressed, particularly where external deadlines are involved, forces one to stay organized in order to keep things moving. Of course, like anything else, too much stress is harmful, particularly when you have no outlet in a life full of too much work, too much pressure, and too little sleep. Yet, with writing, like with reading, there’s always another thought or book that needs to be written. It’s a slightly obsessive, soul-fulfilling activity to feed thoughts once they get used to constant stimulation.

It is for all of these reasons that I love the idea of a National Writing Month, which doesn’t quite exist yet. I know that there are a lot of local and regional activities that encourage this sort of thing. Nonetheless, it is a rather thrilling idea to consider a month in which we encourage adults and children all over the world to write on a regular basis. Schools teach writing as an important activity but they have little time to encourage the enjoyment factor. Writing is a pleasurable activity but also a community through which people can learn more about themselves and the world through expressing themselves in language.

Jessica Quillin owns Quillin Consulting, LLC, a consultancy in Washington, DC, focused on content development, research, and strategy for the public and private sectors. She holds a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of Cambridge.

By Jessica Quillin

Most, if not all, writers know the exasperating feeling of rewriting a sentence or paragraph a million times yet being unable to achieve quite the right tone or phrasing. Most of us eventually either give up or move on in this situation. Yet, I’ve always wondered if it is possible to write through these moments of frustration, even though you may feel as if your brain is zapped and your creativity nil.

While the age of the internet may have saved trees in reducing the size of the stereotypical pile of crumpled paper near writers’ desks, this likely had little effect on the frequently painful process of writing—i.e. surviving writer’s block, writing about your ideas when you finally get them, and eventually revising your own work.

The reason I am musing on this topic is due to two sad hours spent on Friday typing, deleting, typing, deleting, and typing for an article pitch that I was writing. The general idea of the pitch, in my opinion, was quite interesting. It was just the execution that had problems. When I sat down to write, my thoughts were jumbled and my words, in turn, were, well, unsatisfactory.

On the whole, it was a rather deflating end to a relatively successful week. I had made good progress on the research front of several projects, including gathering final data for my education policy paper and chatting on an informational basis with a few magazine editors to see if my ideas carry any weight before I begin pitching articles to their publications. To my slight surprise, the editors with whom I spoke were encouraging and offered useful suggestions on how to proceed forward with my pitches.

After speaking with these editors, I was extremely excited to begin working on a few pitches as soon as possible. Yet, in spite of two hours of work, I ended up with four paragraphs that could perhaps be used for a full-length article but were far from a pitch. Even though I had been furiously writing (and deleting, of course), my mojo was off. I felt no pizazz or surge of inspiration. At the time, this made no sense to me, as I had just conversed with two relatively well-known magazine editors who seemed to find some interest in my ideas.

In retrospect, I think that I failed in two critical areas. First, I psyched myself out by building up the importance of these pitches in my head. Second, I should have taken the time to slow down, step back, and jot down a few ideas to center my thoughts before trying to type anything substantial on my laptop.

As every writer knows, the world of freelance magazine pitching is, at best, mercurial. This is not necessarily even in reference to the usual warnings one receives as a freelancer about the inevitability of rejection. I’m talking about the market itself. Despite an ever-growing tome of articles and “how-to” books on pitching, the freelance market seems to shift with the wind. What may seem a best practice one day to reach out to an editor may annoy them the next day or cause your pitch to be rejected or ignored.

Unlike other areas of the consulting/contracting market, there is no established bid-and-pitch system for magazine articles. This is likely a good thing as it is arguably more accessible and encourages creativity and diversity. Yet, it means that, as writers, we have to be doubly aware that it may not be our ideas or the way in which we’re presenting them that is causing our work to not get noticed. It could simply be the result of catching an editor on a bad or busy day or the unfortunate product of having pitched an idea that is similar to one that someone else already proposed.

Recently, I have tried to follow the advice of a writer friend to approach editors with a general pitch and attached samples of my writing. This has gained me several informational interviews, which is good. Yet, it hasn’t quite sold anything. The funny thing is that another writer I know suggested that the problem could, in fact, be the attachments themselves. She suggested that my pitch should be a single tightly-written email that sells the core of my idea and offers to send more information should the editor be interested. However, both recommended being unrelenting with following up and not being afraid to send a pitch to another publication if I don’t hear back in a decent period of time.

With all this advice in my head and my own common sense about the vicissitudes of freelancing, I became rather overwhelmed when trying to write my pitch. It was both too much information to think about at once and too many details for what should be a pretty straightforward process. I can easily explain to someone in conversation about what I’m interesting in writing. It’s just a matter of translating that into engaging, comprehensible prose.

As a result, I’ve determined that I need a fresh start on this pitch. I want to detoxify my brain to restore my creative imagination towards this particular idea. I need to cleanse my mind as much as I can of external advice in order to focus on my idea and why I think that it is perfect for a chosen publication.

So, this afternoon I’m setting aside an hour. I’m going to unplug from the Internet and my Blackberry (though someone may need to pry it from my hands). The plan is to grab a cup of tea, pen and paper, and my laptop. I’ll then see where my thoughts and words take me. It could be nowhere but at least I’ll get the experience of slowing down and decompressing for a while, which is always a good thing.

Stay tuned next week to see how well this little experiment goes….

Jessica Quillin owns Quillin Consulting, LLC, a consultancy in Washington, DC, focused on content development, research, and strategy for the public and private sectors. She holds a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of Cambridge.

By Jessica Quillin

This week I have so much to research and write about that I scarcely know where to start, never mind actually have time to breathe. I’m trying to take things one step at a time. But, as an intrinsic multi-tasker, I am finding myself impatiently working on one project for an hour, jumping to the next one, and then back to the first project.

So far, my project-hopping approach seems to be working. Yet, while the topic of future contracts is sometimes probabilistic enough to enervate any writer, I feel confident that I will complete everything. However, I’m trying to build in more time to do fun things in order to keep myself motivated to reach my goals.

Last week I was able to step back a bit and contemplate the bigger picture of research methodology for this paper I’m writing. While, like any normal researcher (I won’t say good, since this is not necessarily a positive habit), I’m still piddling with my methods and organization, I am up against a self-imposed deadline to gather my remaining data, do my survey interviews, and begin writing no later than next week.

This goal is, well, ambitious at best and would seem crazy to most, particularly given all the other projects on my plate. In addition to ongoing writing commitments with this paper and freelance work, I have consultants to manage, clients to keep up with, daily business tasks to oversee, and a new project to work on that is frankly much more exciting than everything else I’m doing.

Strangely, I think that I am managing tasks fairly well, though basic things like sleep are, well, slightly irrelevant. OK, I did find time to watch the finale of Mad Men. Yet, my evenings are devoted to writing, as are my mornings and afternoons. I’m actually grateful to Major League Baseball for the post-season games, as they somehow round out my work week and make it more acceptable for me to work late, since the rest of my household is awake as well.

So, how do I not go insane and continue to push forward?

Two weeks ago I had the lovely opportunity to write a guest blog on how I stay sane as an entrepreneur for a local business website. Writing this piece helped me refocus on why I’m doing all that I’m doing.

You see, I have a secret hour (sometimes more) most days where I work on my academic book. It is due to my publisher in about six weeks, a deadline for which my workload likely will force me to request another extension. I’m slightly nervous about approaching this question with my publisher yet again since this book is painfully overdue. Indeed, I feel terrible for leaving this book uncompleted, both because it makes me feel incomplete as a writer/person but also because I think it represents an important area of literary history that people should know about.

Yet, time has a sneaky way of going woosh out the window when you’re not looking. I’ve been so occupied, perhaps quite rightly, in bringing in clients, in writing and editing, in reviewing work from my consultants, and in doing necessary business tasks that the months have literally flown by.

On Wednesday, my company turns six months old. While I may use this as an excuse for a cupcake (and thus an extra session with my running shoes), a millisecond after blowing out the candle I’ll be back to working.

As most writers can attest, writing and working for oneself are at once addictive and agonizing. It is a necessary addiction, if one is to have any chance of making money out of it. For me, there is an unavoidable flurry of excitement every time I sit down to a blank computer screen to write something new. Yet, even when I’m focused, I have a mixed feeling of delight and angst when I’m writing. It’s like the nine-year old girl in me who was obsessed with becoming a writer is clapping and skipping around in glee while the adult woman in my head is tapping her foot to tell me to get moving on work so I can get paid and thus keep myself in shoes.

Yet, while I berate myself for not completing my academic book as I relish the moments I have to work on it, it’s hard to be too harsh on myself. I have been much better at building in time to finalize my book because it relaxes me. But, like anyone, I do what I can with the resources and time I have. I’m very proud of the way in which my business and writing career have grown over the past six months.

Now, it’s time to engross myself in the muck and mire of writing. As Marge Piercy wrote in her poem “To be of use”:

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.
…

Work Cited:
Piercy, Marge. “To be of use.” Circles on the Water: Selected Poems by Marge Piercy (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1982) 106.

Jessica Quillin owns Quillin Consulting, LLC, a consultancy in Washington, DC, focused on content development, research, and strategy for the public and private sectors. She holds a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of Cambridge.

By Jessica Quillin

When beginning a new project, most writers face a series of important decisions when it comes to research. Regardless of whether you’re a fiction writer, journalist, or social media marketer, getting your facts straight is important, as is setting up a cohesive framework for your writing through which to leverage the power of your research. In other words, you not only need to do your research, but you also need an organizational method for your writing.

Research methodology seems like something that belongs to the stuffy world of academics without much application to the practical world of professional writing. While many grad students may argue that courses on research methods are designed either for torture or napping, the concept of creating a formalized approach for research and writing can be a powerful tool for writers of all kinds.

Last week I dove headlong into a major research study. I’ve been doing background work and data gathering for weeks. Yet, the period of serious analysis, information assimilation, and intense writing has only just begun.

This project has put me in the unusual position of having to reframe my writing mindset away from shorter essays and fiction writing back to the basics of the research methods I learned in grad school.

When facing this new project, my mind became suddenly full of questions I hadn’t thought of in years. How much research should I do? How do I gauge the best sources? If I struggle to find the data or facts I need, at what point do I contact people directly to request information? What is the best balance of sources between online, print, and direct interviews or surveys? After an initial search, how do I determine if I have enough information?

A woolly-headed professor I had in grad school once compared the university’s library to a bran muffin because they are both “dense but delicious.” He then told the class that our job as writers and researchers was to approach the library with a well-defined investigative question that would help us sift through materials as if in search of the perfect raisin in the muffin to target the right information on our topic of choice.

Terse analogies aside, my professor’s point was that the most important step in approaching any writing project, no matter how much research you ultimately need to do, is to take your topic and narrow it down to a central question and even a series of sub-questions that you want to explore further. This can ultimately provide you with an easy way to organize your ideas and, in turn, your writing.

When approaching research, it’s not enough to have a topic. You often need a specific series of questions or ideas to investigate. Say that you want to write an article on the effectiveness of hybrid vehicles in reducing climate change. This may be a good start to gathering initial research but does not necessarily help you probe into deeper issues. To find sources, it can be helpful to narrow your topic down to examining more specific issues, such as: What is the relationship between vehicle emissions and the Earth’s temperature? Are there any hidden problems with the reliance of hybrid vehicles on supposedly “cleaner” forms of energy like electricity?

Once you have your questions, of course, the research itself doesn’t necessarily come swiftly. But, at least, you have a plan of attack, which can help you locate the right sources and not waste valuable time. Knowing not only what you’re researching but specifically what question(s) you’re trying to answer can help you towards the information you need for your writing project.

For my part, I had my questions coming into the research process. Yet, the information gathering process has not been as straightforward as I anticipated. I’ve encountered a series of problems in terms of the questionable quality of information from online sources, difficulty in sifting through incredibly long articles or documents to find information, and inevitable technological issues with downloading documents. But, most noticeably, I’ve encountered significant challenges in getting people I contact to respond even when in theory they’ve said they’re available to assist. After making initial contact either in person or virtually via email, people very often say one thing but don’t follow through even when you, the writer, follow up.

In all, working on this study has reminded me that this type of research-oriented writing really is no different than any other writing. Despite the ephemeral divide between academic writing and professional writing, all good writing comes down to a matter of a clear central argument, appropriate and adequate supporting information, correct language usage, and a logical flow of ideas through strong organization.

Perhaps it’s this general philosophy towards writing that makes me constantly feel that I live in a liminal space as a writer. I have been trained as an academic, so approach the art of writing with a certain sensibility towards clarity of expression and originality of thought. Yet, my entire business model is based on writing and content development, which means that I also try to keep a well-focused eye on what I write to make sure that it is readable, useful, and interesting.

In any event, having some sort of method to your madness as a writer can make the research process easier. This, in turn, can help you focus on your topic and, hopefully, the fun of writing.

Jessica Quillin owns Quillin Consulting, LLC, a consultancy in Washington, DC, focused on content development, research, and strategy for the public and private sectors. She holds a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of Cambridge.

By Jessica Quillin

Like any celebrity or commercial product, writers are greatly advantaged when they can rely upon an agent or public relations firm to handle advertising, selling, and building their image as a writer. But, very few writers have the luxury of this kind of external support.

So, how do you, as a writing professional, go about building your own brand as a writer? In a nutshell, it takes strategy, execution, and follow up. To some degree, you and your writing are relatively inseparable in terms of brand strategy because your written work is the main method by which you present yourself to potential clients, who are your readers. You and your writing together form your brand identity and your product line, to go with business speak.

Recently, I have begun to do a lot of brand management work with private and public sector clients. After learning about their company goals, visions, and market challenges, I work with design partners and other creative professionals to help clients create a unique, holistic, and adaptable brand strategy. In the latter phrase, the concepts of “adaptable” and “holistic” are just as important to branding as the concept of “unique.” A branding strategy has to represent not only your individual product but it needs to be flexible at the same time that it is comprehensive of all aspects of your product identity.

As I have mentioned before in this column (perhaps too often), everything comes down to messaging. In general, messaging is about perception and presentation. Everyone has ideas. But, it’s the way we translate them into actionable thoughts, if you will, by arming them with the right words. It is this facet of writing as messaging that becomes particularly powerful for the professional writer because, well, you practice the craft every day.

In my opinion, branding comes down to:

1) What do you think of yourself?
2) What do you want to communicate to others?
3) What do others think of you?
4) What do you want others to think of you?

At first glance, only items 1, 2, and 4 seem within the realm of one’s own jurisdiction. After all, one can never control what another person thinks. However, not to sound like a motivational speaker, the beauty of writing as an art is that it gives you some degree of influence over what people think of you simply because of the inevitable artifice and spin inherent to all written communication. In other words, perhaps paradoxically, the very act of writing with planning, deliberation, and attention to your intended readership strongly affects, at least in part, what that readership thinks about you and your writing.

A writer’s ability to impact readers directly makes brand strategy important and highly effective. With as much energy and passion as you throw into your writing, many of your readers approach the activity of reading with devotion, a desire for fulfillment, and a need for escape.

So, what does a writing brand strategy look like? As I mentioned earlier, I think that it is a three-fold process of strategy, execution, and follow up.

Yet, before you even get to these three steps, you need to make sure that your product, i.e. you and your writing, are polished, well-researched, and up to scrutiny. To go with business jargon again, you need quality control. While this may seem intuitive, it is the key to presenting your vision as a writer. Editors receive and subsequently reject pitches every day due to basic typos, grammatical errors, and poorly thought-out or unfocused writing. As I have commented before, attention to quality is almost as important as the overall communication and flow of ideas in your writing. Even a writer with a strong narrative voice and amazing story can be undermined by the basics of quality and presentation.

Once you’ve got your product in place and some idea of your goals in mind, then it’s time to create a brand strategy.

Here’s my take on a basic branding plan for a writer:

• Strategy: You need to design a targeted, comprehensive writing plan. This involves determining the value-added of your product through ensuring its quality and doing research on your intended market and market reach (including competitors, saturation, and growth potential).
• Execution: With your plan in hand, however rough it may be, you need to execute it through writing, communicating, and interacting with your desired market. This may involve pitching ideas to a variety of trade publications, drawing new readership to your blog, or finishing up and packaging off the manuscript for your first novel.
• Follow Up: With your plan in motion, you finally need a way to maintain and build it. For this reason, you need to be confident in your writing and get used to networking, following up with people, and finding new ways to interest people in your writing. This is a process of continually focusing and re-focusing your writing efforts on your market in a cohesive and targeted fashion.

For most writers, writing is an art, a passion, and a business. While it’s hard to balance these elements, particularly as they can be highly personal and thus sensitive, it nonetheless can be useful to think about yourself and your written work as a brand to be bought, sold, and sought after.
In all, designing a creative brand strategy for you and your writing can not only take some of the pressure off your work by making you more organized and aware of your market potential; but also it may have the adding benefit of making the art of writing both more fun and lucrative.

Writing is the art of articulating and organizing your thoughts into written language. This is an incredible privilege, as I noted last week.I have
Most experienced writers are keenly attuned to their choice of words and to the organization of their ideas when they write. They also are aware, at least to some degree, of the intended audience for their writing and how what they write comes across to this audience.

Jessica Quillin owns Quillin Consulting, LLC, a consultancy in Washington, DC, focused on content development, research, and strategy for the public and private sectors. She holds a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of Cambridge.

By Jessica Quillin

There are many stereotypes surrounding writers. In film and on television, writers are often portrayed as possessing an intellectual air of aloofness with a dash of vulnerability that supposedly leaves readers hanging on their every word. The very aloofness of writers, of course, is symptomatic of the fact that their thoughts are constantly hither and thither rather than centered on what is happening in the real world. Following this stereotype, contemplation thus permits writers a unique lens into the deeper mysteries of life and human experience.

Of course, all writers (and perhaps their audiences as well) know that these stereotypes are completely misplaced. Somehow, as a writer, after you delete draft 52 from your computer for an article you’re trying to write or after you feel lucky to have received your fifteenth rejection letter from another publisher (at least you heard back!), you no longer take yourself so seriously.

Let’s face it: we’re all pretty happy to receive any work, never mind actually garner readership. Obviously, it’s better if writing work pays. But, at least the opportunity to get exposure, make contacts, and have your work read is the way to keep things moving forward.

Yet, we all know or have seen writers on TV or elsewhere who come off as arrogant, self-possessed, and judgmental about their subject matter and even their readership. Perhaps success has gotten the better of them.

However, I suspect that the “writerly” public persona is a myth. Like any actor or good salesperson, a writer must keep his or her defenses up yet continually be in the game to market their work since they are constantly selling a product. Inasmuch as our creative energies inspire us to capture our thoughts in language, writing is nonetheless a business and a brutal one at that.

This past weekend I had the unusual opportunity to observe famous and highly-touted writers interact with readers at the National Book Festival in Washington, DC. As a writer, I found it an interesting bit of research. On the whole, I found the authors insightful, intelligent, and gracious. But, inevitably, they had their limits, even considering their vast experience in dealing with the public.

For one, the National Book Festival took place on a gorgeously sunny but unbelievably hot day. It was over 90 degrees. Hundreds of people waited in seemingly endless lines to get books signed by their favorite writers. However, these writers, perhaps not surprisingly for such a large event, were on a very tight schedule that was rigorously enforced. Each writer was assigned a one-hour book signing block. After he or she finished, it was time for the next writer. Unfortunately, as a reader, this meant that it was entirely possible that, despite waiting in line for a long time, you wouldn’t get the chance to have your book signed.

The combination of the heat and long lines produced many very unhappy people. One lady with whom I spoke briefly while waiting in line became enraged when she learned that she was too far back in line to have her book signed by certain Famous Author. He finished on time, gave a quick wave to the 20-odd of us left in line, and was ushered away by event security. As the Famous Author drove past, the enraged lady started yelling at him, screaming that it was unfair for readers to have spent money on his book when he couldn’t stay an extra ten minutes to sign their books. He looked at her in bemusement and gave her a cursory shrug.

While I felt rather bad for the Famous Author, I couldn’t help but think that there was some truth behind the rants of this slightly crazed woman. His reaction was at best perfunctory, though I’m not sure what else he could have done. The situation was perhaps slightly out of his control.

Yet, I found the Famous Author’s reaction incredibly amusing, both because it was a ridiculous situation but also because of his status as a writer of contemporary fiction. He purports to write about the ordinary person and even presents himself as a quiet, reclusive sort of fellow. Yet, here he was, being treated deferentially as if he was a member of an elite society.

Since, as a writer, this Famous Author has suffered through long periods of rejection and frustration, shouldn’t he want to find a way to stay a little later? After all, these were his readers that were being turned away. It was especially silly since there were literally less than 20 of us left in line. But, all we got was a wave and a brief glimpse of him being escorted away on a golf cart.

Given the situation, I’m not sure what would have been a better solution. He could have said, “Sorry,” or insisted that event staff extend his time. It may not have made any difference, though. The ultimate answer was clearly for event planners to have allotted more book-signing time in the first place for authors for whom they expected a large turnout.

Observing this funny episode, I came away thinking that we, as writers, could all use lessons in humility. By humility, I mean that, no matter how experienced or inexperienced we become, it is important to step back from the day to day and realize how incredibly fortunate we are. We have the chance to communicate our ideas to other people and perhaps in some small way help or influence them. One day, if we’re really lucky, we might even find money and success via this route.

Writing is an art. But, like all arts, writing is a privilege. It should be exercised often, though with care and cognizance of the how, the why, and the to whom we are writing.

Jessica Quillin owns Quillin Consulting, LLC, a consultancy in Washington, DC, focused on content development, research, and strategy for the public and private sectors. She holds a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of Cambridge.

By Jessica Quillin

Is it possible to have too many plans for your writing? Is ambitiousness just a sign of foolishness?

Once you’ve got a good idea, how do you know if your work is ready for public view? Do the old concepts of self-editing and self-criticism have any function in an age of spontaneous communication?

As writers, we all have grand plans for our writing. Despite our protestations of amazement at any level of success or readership we may achieve, we all share the common ultimate goal of communicating our ideas or message to others and in turn building a community of readership. We can’t help it. Dreaming—wide-sweeping, world-changing dreaming—is what motivates many of us to write in the first place.

Perhaps it’s because the art of writing brings with it an inherent sense of narcissism that comes from focusing on one’s own thoughts for a long time. Coming to even a tiny fraction of nosce te ipsum (“know thyself”) sends many of us reeling into churning out page after page of written work as a way to capture our unique take on a particular idea or indeed the world itself.

As anyone who has been following this column over the past few months knows, I firmly believe in the importance of establishing your own voice as a writer but also in not being afraid to follow your passions. These are, obviously, clichés. Yet, I think that voice and passion in writing are so often overwhelmed by a litany of prescriptiveness about the proper ways or best methods for certain types of writing.

When I first made the move to become a full-time writer, I, like many neophytes, obsessively consulted advice columns and books about writing. Yet, while I understand that writing for the web is more casual than other forms of writing, the number of errors I found in articles purporting to provide advice on effective writing techniques was absolutely astounding. How can I be expected to garner lessons on communication from sources that themselves are unable to convey ideas clearly and succinctly?

It is for this reason that I think the concepts of ambition and good writing are intertwined for professional writers. Most writers begin as readers, so they should have a sense of what defines good writing. This understanding should, in turn, influence a writer’s own style and use of language. Thus, in an ideal world, a writer should be able write whatever he or she wants but then be able to judge when his or her work is of sufficient quality to be read by someone else.

Unfortunately, this often isn’t the case. “Good” and “sufficient quality” are obviously subjective, yet the fundamentals of grammar and syntax are not. The web may make everyone a writer, which is good from the point of view of ambition because it encourages creativity and entrepreneurship. Yet, this open forum brings with it inevitable foibles in terms of quality because it does not mean that people are writing well, never mind writing about something in a way that someone else will find interesting.

On the other hand, many excellent writers may be stifled by their own sense of the inadequacy about their writing, misjudging the actual quality of their own work because they’re not sure if their work is up to scratch or if anyone will want to read what they have to say.

In my opinion, there are two sides to dreaming big in reference to writing: the innovation of new ideas and implementation of these ideas in actual words. Big ideas have the potential to create change through generating discussion and altering the way we think about things. However, when it comes to writing, tempering—or at least being conscious of—the implementation of these ideas can make them more powerful. It is often important to take a step back, refine your thoughts, and figure out if you’re saying what you want to say in the right way.

So, don’t be afraid of having big dreams in your writing career. Yet, keep a dash of humility in the form of self-editing, even if it’s just a quick proofread of a blog entry or closer analysis of a longer article. It may help make you a better writer in the long run.

Jessica Quillin owns Quillin Consulting, LLC, a consultancy in Washington, DC, focused on content development, research, and strategy for the public and private sectors. She holds a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of Cambridge.

By Jessica Quillin

I have a hard time saying “no” to writing assignments, even if they’re unpaid. Perhaps it’s because I’m ambitious or because I’m a people-pleaser at heart. But, in these early stages of my writing business, I feel like I cannot properly gauge the fruitfulness of a project until I’ve finished it.

Yet, is unpaid or pro bono writing work a good idea? How do you know if doing work for free is work worth doing in the long run?

From a revenue-generating standpoint, this practice may seem foolhardy. Like many writers, I have a serious commitment to building my portfolio and establishing my credentials in certain arenas in order to attract the clients I want. Unfortunately, this requires doing some projects for free, particularly when it comes to blogging and online article writing.

For me, I’m finding that taking on a certain amount of pro bono work has unparalleled rewards in terms of networking and positioning. My small efforts at connecting with people and taking on select assignments have brought me some fantastic opportunities about which I’m positively giddy.

However, I’m finding it hard to keep my head on my shoulders with all this new work. Indeed, I am now so incredibly busy with writing and attending events that I now find it hard to sit still. I have to calm my inner 6-year-old who wants to hop around in excitement about all the lovely and stylish writing projects that are now on my plate. This new, largely unpaid work is, perhaps by its very nature, significantly more interesting than the paid work, which can make it difficult to concentrate.

Yet, with consultants to manage, a public policy paper to write, and a growing list of freelance work, it is now finally time to get a grip on things, tighten the ropes, and set the crew to work. To this end, my main concerns now are ones of execution, management, and quality control. These collectively boil down to a need to write, write, write, and keep writing.

The idea of battening down the hatches is perhaps self-evident, particularly for writers who are able to focus on a single long-term project. Yet, for a writer who works on several projects at the same time, getting it all together—and keeping it all together—is much harder than it looks.

For one, as I have mentioned, a core part of my job, like many writers, is networking, a.k.a. business development to meet people and bring in new business. Yet, this networking is not only time-consuming but also rather taxing. After an evening or a day full of attending events, reading things, meeting people, and taking the notes, often the last thing I want to do is sit down and write. But, writing is the name of the game, particularly if I have half a chance of eventually monetizing pro bono work.

Strangely, I find solace and focus in the perhaps more rote stream of paying work. This may seem somewhat counter-intuitive, since I’m much more passionate about some of my current unpaid assignments. Yet, I find that it calms my mind to sit down and write a more research-oriented piece for a client. I then find myself able to write a blog for a new client or even curating my own site with renewed vigor.

Yet, to be honest, my best solution for getting myself to sit down and focus on working through a number of assignments is to task myself into it. I set up a master task list, target goals, and a set of incentives along the way for completing various phases. I find the old-fashioned carrot-and-stick method is less self-flagellatory than other motivational techniques, like reading endless “How to Write” books or article-writing advice blogs.

On a tangential note, setting to work this week on a variety of paid and pro bono assignments has had the effect of re-uniting me with the art of writing by hand. This is not only through note-taking at events I’m covering for clients, but also in writing task management. In particular, when I’m this busy, I find myself writing out several versions of my master list. While programs like Outlook are set up to provide an electronic task list, I find handwritten lists more immediate and thus more cathartic. There are times when I think a pen in hand has a closer relation to actual thoughts than typing on a keyboard ever can.

To return to my topic, in terms of whether or not to take on unpaid work, it ultimately becomes critical to sit down and identify for yourself your main goals as a writer. For instance, if you write fiction, it is often quite lucrative to go the route of unpaid work to get your writing noticed, build a following, and thus secure a future of paid work. Yet, it is a risky path, particularly if writing is your livelihood.

In my case, I must limit the amount of unpaid work I do, even if it gets my company good exposure, because we all sink if I don’t. To continue with the sailing metaphors, as the owner of a writing-based business, my future and my consultants depends on my ability to secure a steady stream of paying work and to keep an watchful eye on the horizon for new business, all while keeping the company ship afloat.

Finally, to steal a thought from L.L. McKinney’s column a few weeks ago but to take it in a different direction, if you’re trying to complete a project—whether paid or unpaid—I think it is important to harness your inner bully. Being your own cheerleader is obviously vital to get you through tough deadlines and to keep yourself invigorated.

But, when it comes to the bottom line of being a writer, which is, obviously, writing, sometimes taunting yourself is the only way to get through, especially if you’re trying to balance a number of different types of projects. It’s hard to be your own taskmaster, given life’s inevitable distractions. Yet, pressing through, it often becomes worth it.

Jessica Quillin owns Quillin Consulting, LLC, a consultancy in Washington, DC, focused on content development, research, and strategy for the public and private sectors. She holds a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of Cambridge.