Fog free

Returning from a lovely European honeymoon, my husband and I recently took a connecting flight out of Chicago to Baltimore. Once we arrived at O’Hare, we checked the monitors along our way to the gate, and they told us the flight was scheduled to depart on time. When we got to the gate, the sign said the same. We settled into the waiting area chairs and watched the minutes tick by.

It soon became clear that our flight would not depart on time, despite the sign that still told us it would. Several people went up to talk to the customer service representative at the desk. Soon after, she got on the microphone and said, “Attention, passengers on Flight XXXX, we don’t know where your plane is and we don’t know where the crew is so we can’t tell you when the flight will leave.”

Really.

I know you all have been in this waiting area. A low rumble of grumbling ensued. One woman near us declared to her husband that she was going to go get a beer. And she did.

My husband and I just looked at each other. Was the plane delayed in Timbuktu? Having mechanical difficulties? Would it ever arrive? And what about that crew? Were they all sick? Lost? Sitting out in their own small strike? Anything could have been going on and none of us had any idea if we should start diving for alternative flights, sit tight, or burst into tears.

B. went to talk to the customer service representative, who had been making “woe is me” faces while talking to other puzzled passengers. When he came back, he was smiling but it wasn’t a “problems all solved” kind of a smile, more of a “what the heck?!” kind of a smile. It turns out that the plane was coming from a hangar and the crew was in the airport just not to the gate yet.

Next thing we know, she comes on to tell us that exact information and then that there will be “decision time” at the orginal time of take-off. Decision time? What did that mean? The flight had a plane and a crew. And a whole bunch of passengers who were all decided. What more did we need?

The upshot was that the plane arrived, the crew arrived, and we took off about 45 minutes later than scheduled.

Why am I writing about this? Because it is a textbook example of a lesson all writers (and other communicators) need to learn from the time they write their first sentences. Be specific. Do not lose your readers (or passengers) in a big dense cloud of ambiguity and uncertainty.

Readers want to know even more than we passengers did that day. They want you to paint a picture with words that allows them to see what you are writing about, to understand it clearly, to take it in. And for the sake of your client, if you are being paid to write something, you want your readers to clearly understand what your client wants to communicate.

It’s also a great public relations lesson. When the news isn’t good, it may be better to lay it out than to give out information that only results in shaking heads and a room full of frustration. It was far better for us to hear the plane and crew were there but delayed than to hear that seemingly no one knew where the heck either was.

Take a lesson from our hapless customer service representative. Don’t fog up your words when you have specific information at hand and a means to communicate it. Make your communication fog-free. Your readers and your clients will thank you.

Ripoff report

The Wall Street Journal recently published an article about freelancers fighting to get paid. A consultant recommended this site to check on potential employers:

http://www.ripoffreport.com/

I'm happy to report that I've only had one problem client in 13 years of freelancing but have heard plenty of sad stories from other freelancers. And a big thanks to all those prompt-paying clients of mine!

Gone honeymoonin’

My new husband (hmm, I could get used to saying that) and I are off on our honeymoon after a fabulously fun wedding. AlmsInk is taking a break to enjoy her new marital status in a lovely place. She’ll be back to the clients, the keyboard, the bills, and this blog in a couple of weeks.

I could be a steelworker

I lived in Pittsburgh as the last of the steel mills were dousing the fires and shuttering the doors. It was grim, a time I remember as constantly and ominously cloudy. Families out of work, steelworkers with no notion of what they would do next since “next” had never occurred to them as necessary.

Now, I am wondering is my profession going the way of steel? Could I be a steelworker? Here are a couple of blog posts on the topic:

Susie Bright's Journal

Seth Godin's Blog

I’m not a book author and I don’t write for mainstream publications. But when newspapers, magazines, and all those other print publications lay off their staffs, when DC association communications departments can communicate with one-quarter of the staff in one-eighth of the time, I wonder for whom these bells are tolling?

And I don’t want to be a steelworker with no “next.” I know I will be a writer and editor until I can’t hit the keys any more. But I need to rethink the way I make my living and the environment in which I do that. Hard thinking.

It’s a thankful job and I’m glad to do it

“Thank you.” My parents taught me to say that word and say it often. There are days I think I overuse it. Must I thank the telemarketer who calls? But I do. “Thank you for calling. I’m not interested.” Really? I’m not only not interested, I most certainly am not grateful he or she called. But habits die hard and thanking people was ingrained in me from an early age.

Gratitude is something I’ve been thinking about a lot in these difficult economic times. In the past two years, I’ve lost a series of major clients, the ones who pay my regular bills, who keep the electricity and heat on. It’s been hand to mouth ever since because I haven’t been able to replace them.

That’s the gray cloud. This is the silver lining: I still have one major client and a pretty large number of clients who come to me now and then, as needed. They are the ones who have helped to pay my bills over the last couple of years, who have kept this sole provider able to provide services. This is my thank-you note to all of them.

Thank you for sending work my way. Thank you for being great clients, regular clients, clients with work that pays reasonably. If you’re not a freelance writer, you have no idea how many potential clients out there think you will be happy to write for less than minimum wage. Because isn’t it good of them to publish said writing? To them, I say, "No, thank you!"

And I try to make sure my clients know how grateful I am. Thanking them for work. Thanking them when their checks arrive. Taking time to send holiday cards, to have a non-job related conversation with them now and then. To not charge them every which way to Sunday. To occasionally go the extra mile by doing something for free or adding on a little lagniappe. In other words, to make sure they know I enjoy working with them.

Gratitude is so easy. It takes a second and it costs nothing and it pays major dividends. I love watching my young niece’s eyes light up when I hand her a cookie. “Thank you,” she says, eyes round and a big smile on her face. That’s how I feel about my clients—like I’ve just been handed the best chocolate chip cookie ever. Thank you! Very much!