Carol Newman Cronin's Blog, page 46

Saying No to Summer Go Cups

I recycle. I pick up trash from the beach and road side. I like to think I’m a tiny part of the solution to the plasti-problem.

But I’m also part of the problem itself, because I love iced coffee.

Iced coffee to go used to mean filling a plastic cup with ice, coffee, half and half, and then topping it with a plastic lid and inserting a straw. For the past few months I’ve skipped the straw, which means removing the lid each time I want a sip. That basically eliminates sipping while underway—another of summer’s great pleasures.

It’s also hard to see how skipping the straw is going to solve the plasti-problem when I’m still walking away with a single-use plastic cup and lid—even though they almost always get recycled.

So here’s my public vow for the summer of 2017: I promise to reduce my single-use cup (plastic or paper) consumption to a maximum of one per month. (Hopefully I can eliminate them all together… but I may need a “bye” once in awhile.)

I’ve stashed a stainless mug in my car. I will stash another in my bike basket. And I will respond to all sourpuss servers with a smile when they grimace about having to handle a clunky mug.

I promise not to get preachy about this if I see you with a plastic cup. But I also welcome anyone who cares to join me in my pledge to Say No to To Go Cups this summer. It doesn’t mean giving up our favorite iced drinks… it just means a little more planning, and a small change in habits. And if that helps us toward a future with less trash for someone like me to pick up off the beach, it’s all worth it.

Will you join me?

A Visit to the Land of What-If

Yesterday, I stopped by the land of What-If. To get there, I took a left turn away from outcome, followed an unpaved thought, and finally arrived at a new idea.

After a month of trying to edit my way out of a plot logjam in the new book, I closed every existing chapter and opened a fresh empty ‘page’ on the screen. At the top, I wrote what if…

Creativity, not end result

The only thing that lives in What-If is infinite possibility, and there’s a guard at the gate to check for (and remove) any pre-conceived notions I might be trying to smuggle inside. I don’t think about word count, or whether I’ve accurately captured the way a character picks up a beer, or how that final love scene will be received by critics and friends and most of all my mother. Because only by stepping away from all that could I find a real solution.

Just say no to distractingly shiny details

It was hard to take off my editor’s Dr. Seuss hat, and even harder not to put my writer’s hard hat back on again. In fact there are no hats allowed inside the carefully patrolled borders of What-If, because hats might keep my imagination from soaring free. After all, even in an imaginary place it is much, much easier to get caught up in the shiny details of words, grammar, and typos than it is to focus on the big picture.

Daydreaming with my fingers on the keyboard

Once I’d abandoned all my previous ideas, I started typing out whatever snippet of thought that popped into my head. Eventually those snippets turned into a new plotline that solved the old stumbling block—and, almost instantly, the new “facts” seemed like the only logical path.

I could only stay a little while before I had to head back to the real world, but that’s okay. I know from previous visits that once I’ve seen the big picture, the details will fall into place more easily if I’m actively focused on something else. So the new idea is going to percolate for a day or so…

And then I’ll put my writer’s hat on again and work on showing this idea through words and deeds that make sense to my characters. I can hardly wait to see what comes out of finally “understanding” this new section of the story.

I also can hardly wait to share this one with you all. But after this unexpected visit to the Land of What-If, I promise: it will be worth all of my hard work and all of your patience.

Freelance: Specializing Works

For the past year and a half, I’ve been working on projects that all relate to sailing—my chosen sport. Yes, I’m lucky—but I’ve also consciously set myself up as a specialist in a tiny niche. And this, I believe, is the true secret to my current success as a freelancer.

Anyone need a writer… anyone?

When I first started as a freelance writer thirty years ago, I already knew a lot more about sailboats than about anything else. But limiting myself to working only within such a tiny industry seemed like a bad idea, so my approach in those days was “I can write for anyone.” While that was true in theory, I eventually learned something that should have been obvious all along: I will do my best work on a project that excites me. And the projects that excite me involve boats—preferably those powered by sail. This could be considered the non-fiction equivalent of “write what you know,” I suppose, and it definitely helps me gain the insight needed to write for Seahorse Magazine.

Institutional knowledge

Over several decades of writing projects, I’ve picked up information about many aspects of the sport just by being interested and paying attention: from coastal cruising to the Olympics, from large boats to small—if I don’t know the answer, I know someone who will. That institutional knowledge means more dots connected for my clients—as long as I’m working on a project where that knowledge is relevant.

So what if some wise older human had said to me when I first started, “Stick to boats” rather than “cast your net as wide as possible”?

Even if I’d listened, it probably wouldn’t have made much difference. I’ve only worked on one project that didn’t have anything to do with boats, and that was a long time ago—though I still remember how much I dreaded sitting down at my desk each morning. Anyway it was a much different world then; today, our interconnected lives makes it a lot easier to succeed as a freelancer in a small industry like sailing.

Projects that excite us are likely to lead to our best work. Being uniquely qualified for something makes us happy. And there’s nothing wrong with any of that.

Fiction-Gathering and Purple Pancakes

We usually have pancakes on Sunday mornings, but not the traditional flour or mix variety. Instead we make the batter in a blender (a variation on this recipe, though our version isn’t vegan).

Last Sunday, I added frozen raspberries to the blender—which is the first ingredient of my weekday smoothie breakfasts. By the time I realized my mistake, the other pancake ingredients were already added as well… so I made purple pancakes.

They didn’t cook into puffy delicious masterpieces like the previous week’s version, but they tasted fine. And while I could take a make-lemonade lesson from this experience or blame the obvious culprit (an aging brain), I’m choosing instead to use it as the perfect example of fiction-induced spaciness.

As a reader, you might think that fiction resides in one part of a writer’s brain and fact in another. Instead (at least for me) it’s all one great big jumble.

(Warning: This post may be a jumble too.)

“Woolgathering” means “indulgence in aimless thought or dreamy imagining; absentmindedness.” I assume it comes from the mind-freeing work of gathering wool: turning skeins into more knittable balls.

Fiction-gathering is indulgence in aimless thought about a world that no one else can see (at least until Island Shell Game is published). Downtown for lunch, I’ll see someone with the same hair color as one of my characters—but with other features that are completely “wrong.” That starts me wondering how I “know” such previously unconsidered details about my characters; “she wouldn’t wear that blouse” or “he doesn’t have a watch like that.” Ten minutes later, I’ll realize I’ve been staring off into space and haven’t ordered any food yet.

At the end of each writing day I often still have one foot on my imaginary island, even though I’ve been consciously working on “real” jobs all afternoon. Sometimes (on the best days), it’s hard to define where the real world ends and the other begins.

So there may well be more purple pancakes before I finish this thing.

Malcolm in the Middle

You can read the background of this piece in Seahorse Byline: Sign of Success. For more insights into the world of international sailboat racing, visit Seahorse Magazine. This story originally published in the April 2017 issue and is reprinted here with permission. (Photo courtesy USSailing Team)

USA

Malcolm in the Middle

For almost a century, American sailors won more medals at each Olympic Games than any other country. Then in 1996, the team began the downward slide that would describe the next two decades: second in total medals at Savannah and Sydney; tied for third in Athens and Qingdao. And in 2012, Team USA hit the unthinkable bottom by coming home empty-handed.

After a lone bronze at Rio 2016, what happens at the 2020 Games in Tokyo will either cement the post-Weymouth turnaround or mark Rio as just a lucky accident. Obviously, US Sailing would prefer the former. So would Malcolm Page; in January, the Australian double gold medallist brought his accent and his experience to Portsmouth, Rhode Island, to take over as chief of Olympic sailing for Team USA.

Malcolm Page took over as Chief of US Olympic Sailing in January 2017. Photo: US Sailing Team

As the editor of this magazine observed in the February 2017 issue (after noting Page’s ability to keep a secret until his new position had been officially announced), ‘USSailing sure needs a kick up the jacksy.’ Sitting in his new sun-filled corner office only two weeks into the job, Page sounds confident about continuing to build what would be a very visible US turnaround.

As an athlete, he won his first gold only four years after Team Australia’s own medal-less 2004 Olympics, so his first promise of two US sailing medals at Tokyo 2020 carries weight. So does his second promise, which is to return the US to the top of the medals table – perhaps by 2024. ‘If we’re the best managers, and the best administrators and the best at finance and the best at communications,’ he says, ‘with the best coaches, we’ll produce the best athlete.’

When asked for the strategy to achieve his lofty goals, he quickly ticked off the three things ‘that I’m hanging my reign on, if you can call it that: Performance excellence. Team culture. Sustainability.’ He already has some very concrete ideas of how to lead the US team forward in each.

Performance excellence

‘It’s about skilling the athlete,’ says Page, and he’s not just talking about the finer points of reading a compass or trimming a main. ‘I’m a big believer in education – it’s a huge factor. And you definitely need it for sailing.’

Once US Olympic hopefuls complete their secondary education, the usual next step is to spend four years at one of the top sailing universities. With six or seven days a week of practice and regattas and sharp-eyed coaching, college sailors build a very strong foundation in starting, boathandling, and small course tactics. But college sailing has traditionally existed in its own bubble, and the school-year-based schedule doesn’t easily mesh with Olympic training. Add in low-tech, supplied boats that don’t require much tuning or technical tweaking, and college sailing can easily be viewed as four years of distraction from winning a medal. (Caleb Paine, the lone medal winner in Rio, chose a Finn campaign over more school.)

Page hopes to align the strengths of college sailing much more closely with Olympic preparation, so sailors don’t have to choose between an education and their Olympic dreams. ‘If we connect well, get all these different circles to actually overlap, we will then get the best out of it for everyone.’ Then he laughs. ‘It sounds so easy… the execution is going to be hard, of course. And it’s going to take more than one cycle to get it right.’

Malcolm Page began his Olympic sailing career ‘late in life,’ after he’d already completed a degree in electrical engineering. Looking back, it’s easy to see his own search for performance excellence as a steady, inevitable climb through the 470 ranks: from 2000 Olympic hopeful to 2004 Olympian to 2008 and 2012 gold medalist. Living through it, though, the view was quite different. Not earning selection in 2000 was ‘my first big learning experience… it made me hungrier, and maybe a little wiser as well.’

Then came the 2004 Olympics. After winning the 470 worlds that year, Malcolm and skipper Nathan Wilmot ‘were obviously the favourites.’ Malcolm shakes his head. ‘And then we got a solid twelfth.’ They were still in medal contention going into the last race, but an OCS sent them home empty-handed – along with the rest of the Australian team.

‘It’s the Games… deer in the headlights.’ He sighs. ‘Like nothing else.’

Australia rebounded quickly to win 11 medals over the next three Games, thanks to a renewed focus initially spearheaded by the athletes. In 2012, Team Oz won the medal count in Weymouth – much to hometown Team GB’s chagrin – with three golds and a silver. So Malcolm has already seen what a return to performance excellence looks like. Now he’s excited to put that experience to work.

Team culture

Sailing with Nathan, Malcolm says communication and teamwork came quite naturally. ‘We grew up together, learning how to win together, and to keep the pressure off, our objective was to win a medal. But we knew we could win a gold if we did our job properly.’ In Qingdao they did just that, thanks in part to the lessons learned in Athens (and the ongoing support of coach Viktor ‘Medal Maker’ Kovalenko).

The next morning after winning that first gold, Malcolm was approached by Mat Belcher to sign on for 2012. ‘I think I was still a bit… seeing double,’ Malcolm laughs. But he also had ‘unfinished business,’ even after winning the gold. So he asked Mat for three months to decide, and when he did sign on it was for a different program right from the start – even though they would have the same medal-making coach, and eventually the same golden result.

‘When I committed to Mat,’ Malcolm explains, ‘I said, ‘I’m sorry Mat, but we’re going for the gold. I know I’m done after London, that’s the last hurrah, so we’ve gotta get it right.’ It was a different philosophy, because I knew what it was like.’

And Malcolm quickly discovered that sailing with his new skipper required a new approach. ‘I had to change a lot to make Mat and Malcolm work – in the end, even better than what Nathan and Malcolm did as a team,’ he says. ‘I don’t know if age had a lot to do with that? But Mat was distinctly from a different generation. The way we talked was almost a different language. The first year, I said ‘yes’ to everything – even though I didn’t understand him. And then I said ‘hang on, that’s not good… we need to understand each other.’ So the second year I started to say, ‘no, I don’t understand.’ We spent a lot of time working on our communication. We had to work on that glue between us.’

Their hard work created ‘that resilience, that team work, that all great teams have…’ Malcolm grins. ‘People tell me about the Green Bay Packers, they’re the NFL team that keeps producing against all odds.’ (It seems he’s been studying up on other US sports as part of his job prep.)

‘Sailing with Mat for my fourth quad was the most detailed campaign I’ve ever done,’ he continues. ‘Viktor always said to us ‘Dominate in the last year,’ but I never thought it was possible like we did. The level we got to, it was incredible.’

And now he has to figure out how to use those two very different team experiences to transform the US program into a cohesive whole – not by starting over, but by building on what’s already in place.

‘The foundation laid in the last four years is in the right direction,’ he says. ‘I know you could probably say the results haven’t shown that, but that journey’s begun. I don’t even know if we’re halfway along – I would doubt it, actually. But the initial steps are always the hardest, most painful. I really feel like this is phase two.’

Like the Australians, the US used their medal-less 2012 Games as a wake-up call to revamp their Olympic program. Led by Josh Adams, US Sailing launched Project Pipeline in 2015 to better prepare young athletes for Olympic sailing. With seed funding from the AmericaOne Foundation, coach-led clinics around the country introduce sailors to Olympic boats and then funnel the best of the best into the Olympic development program – ideally before kids have started college sailing.

Historically, US Olympic hopefuls have been rewarded for their independence, partly because there wasn’t enough money to support everyone and partly because that’s how the game used to be played. Page says, ‘Traditionally, I see the [US] programs being driven by each individual boat – by the athlete.

‘That is not the most efficient – and more importantly, it’s not the best way to do it. Because how does that athlete know what to do? They spend four years learning. And if they learn, they might get it right.’ Getting American teenagers on an earlier path to the Olympics will help create the culture Page believes is paramount to winning medals. ‘It’s all anchored around that team approach.’

A team approach was already in place for the 2016 quadrennium, but Page knows ‘it will take time. You need to build a foundation, sometimes you have to build generations of it to achieve it.’ He also knows it’s worth the effort, because ‘It still sends tingles down my spine, that we got to that level. I would like to see this next generation feel what I felt as an athlete.’

And with a much more solid youth development program now in place, Page sees huge potential for growth in US Olympic sailing, which translates into huge potential for him as well.

‘The biggest opportunity for me is in the US. The talent pool here hasn’t changed – you’re still the most medaled country.’ (The Americans maintain a slim lead in all-time medals won – though in 2016, GBR took over the top spot in golds.)

Of course the challenge remains: ‘How do we pull that all together? One effort. That’s the key.’

Sustainability

The final piece of the Page plan requires a reliable long-term funding stream. While Australian sports are government-funded and Team GB has its lottery, Olympic sailors in the US are supported by a combination of private donation and corporate sponsorship. Page sees huge growth opportunities in the US model, since ‘this is the world’s biggest economy! The funding potential is through the roof here.’

He also plans to take advantage of US technological innovations. ‘When it comes to the Olympic Games, to win is 80 percent athlete and 20 percent equipment. So we have to be leading the world in technology.’ Then he pauses, and laughs. ‘Actually in every area, my plan is to be the best.’

While athletes are rightly focused on Tokyo 2020, Page understands that he needs to look farther into the future. ‘You’ve got to keep producing. We do one cycle, then we learn from it, then we can do better the next and the next and the next. Stepping up the ladder – not being sporadic in our results and how we’re going.’ And then with a smile, he regresses for just a moment: ‘Of course that is a little bit boring, from an athlete perspective.’

Page brings a lot of ‘street cred’ to his new role, because he’s seen the Games from every possible athlete perspective: he lost selection, he went but didn’t medal, and then he won gold twice – with two different skippers. ‘I do feel like I’ve lived the whole Olympic experience from a few different angles,’ he admits. ‘I’ve got the scars as well as the stripes on the shoulder.’

Seeking out the best in the world led US Sailing to hire an Aussie – perhaps in spite of his strong accent. And if he can achieve his stated goals of two medals in Tokyo and a return to the top of the medals table, nobody in the US will care where he came from or what he sounds like. For Page, it’s a chance to channel his Olympic fire into what would be a very visible comeback. ‘I want to work in sport, and I want to spend time with my family. This role for me is the perfect connection of both.’

Putting the US back on top will require hard work from the entire team: athletes, staff, coaches, supporters, and of course the new chief of Olympic sailing. It will also take a little luck, because ‘sport is still sport, and there’s always that battle on the course that you can’t always control.’ But as Malcolm Page adds, ‘If we’re the best at each of our jobs, the sum of it should bring the right result.’

-Carol Cronin

 

Seahorse Byline: Sign of Success

When I first developed my freelance writing business, I thought writing magazine articles would be both proof that I had “succeeded” and the ticket to financial security. I was right about the first part, anyway… so I was quite excited when the editor of Seahorse Magazine asked me to interview Malcolm Page, the new Chief of US Olympic Sailing. First I meet a double gold medalist, and then I get a byline in the top international sailing magazine. What’s not to like?

Writing Deep

Seahorse takes the space to delve into the nitty-gritty, so writing for them inspires me to think both more globally and more deeply. Interviewing Malcolm made it easy to spot similarities between the Olympic sailing programs of the US and Australia, where Malcolm won his two gold medals (with two different skippers). After the article was published, editor Andrew Hurst responded: “The piece with Malcolm was really nicely written at the same time as being insightful. We appreciate that!”

(Seahorse has kindly given me permission to reprint the entire article for your enjoyment; follow the link at the bottom of this post.)

More Olympic insight

Another article in the April issue that’s a must-read for anyone interested in the nitty-gritty of winning Olympic sailing medals is “A Complex Subject, Part I.” Two of the best Olympic coaches in the world, Viktor “Medal Maker” Kovalenko (who coached Malcolm) and Jonathan McKee, share their thoughts about the benefits and risks of widespread coaching. To read an excerpt, follow the link below.

I plan to write regularly for Seahorse at least through Tokyo 2020. And while I now realize magazine articles might not be the ticket to financial security, a Seahorse byline sure does feel like freelancing success.

Read Malcolm in the Middle

Read an excerpt from A Complex Subject, Part I

Visit the Seahorse website

Morning Standups on the Water

It’s spring, and morning paddles have begun. Today the sun wasn’t yet visible over the island behind me when I pushed off the beach, and the wake from my paddle and board disturbed an otherwise glassy harbor surface. I felt like an invader, conqueror, circumnavigator, super hero, and very lucky human all at once.

Wildlife sightings included the recently returned ospreys (who have some work to do before their nest on top of the Dutch Island lighthouse reaches last year’s size). I also saw my favorite pair of loons, who kept me company all winter. I can usually get close enough to admire the white collar around their necks and the sharp definition of black and white on their tail feathers before they dive underwater to safety. And speaking of underwater, the many jellyfish are a great reminder not to fall into a fifty degree bay.

The only people I see on these dawn adventures are deep into their own tasks: a runner making his way along the Sheffield Cove shoreline, only twenty feet away from my watery path. The local oyster farmer who pushes off the Fort Getty dock each morning. Over the next month, fishermen will reappear, but for now the quiet harbor feels like a private playground.

Paddling allows me the luxury of waking up on the water. It’s also a great full-body cardio workout, which somehow clears my mind. While I’m focusing on pulling the paddle through the water bubble-free or changing sides to adjust my course, an idea will suddenly crystalize: a theme for a blog post, an approach to a meeting, or the best analogy to describe the rocky shores of a fictitious island.

Thanks to where we live, I don’t need to get in a car or load my board on the roof to go. So even though I may not be a conqueror or a super hero, and even though the other creatures I meet each morning may consider me an invader, I’m definitely one very lucky human.

Lingering and Language

In early April, I went to Scotland with a friend. (Let’s call her Margaret, since that’s what everyone else calls her.) We’d traveled internationally together before, but only to attend regattas. And it was partly a team conversation at one of the coldest of those shared events that inspired this latest non-sailing adventure. On one particularly nasty morning, I’d told my team, “Hey, it would be really fun to hang out with you all and not have to go sailing today.” The response? “Carol, that’s called a vacation.”

Margaret and I are both planners, but we consciously chose not to over-program our ten days of travel. Maybe we didn’t see as many tourist attractions as we could have crammed in, but we did see some real detail. And the best part of our flexibility was being able to linger, wherever and whenever we happened to find something of interest.

Luxury of Lingering

The best example was an unexpectedly wonderful lunch on the isle of Skye. Hungry after our morning hike to the Neist Point lighthouse, we stopped at a bakery on the side of the road. It wasn’t our best meal, but it will be one of our best memories—because one of our fellow-diners turned out to be a descendant of the MacLeods, the family that still owns the nearby 800 year old castle. Later that afternoon we toured the castle, and instead of rushing by the endless string of ancestral pictures, I studied them for facial similarities. (We also learned something new about US history, a sign of how small the world can be.)

Listening to Language

At home, I tune out most side conversations in cafes because they are too predictable; all over Scotland, we eavesdropped shamelessly. In a country where we supposedly spoke the language, it was surprising how much we didn’t understand—and also surprising how distinctive the accents were in Glasgow and Edinburgh, cities less than fifty miles apart. Fortunately the Scottish are naturally welcoming, and if we didn’t understand and could figure out the right question to ask, we’d get a friendly explanation.

Even street signs used familiar words in a new way. While we didn’t always understand the intent, our favorite was all too clear: Just before a one lane bridge followed by a blind dropoff, we read, “Oncoming cars will be in the middle of the road.” Eek!

I wasn’t sure how a non-sailing vacation would be, but after experiencing the luxury of lingering and listening without feeling pressured to get down to the boat park (or to the next big tourist attraction), I’m ready for more. So for all of you sailors thinking about an adventure to another country that doesn’t include a regatta, I say “go.” Just make sure you build in enough time to linger.

4 Tips for Weekly Blogging

Publishing a blog is almost as simple as pushing the magic button of my dreams. There are no spatial limits, and the only editing eye I need to satisfy is my own—which isn’t exactly objective.

You, however, will quickly tire of blog posts that don’t either inspire, educate, or entertain. So how do I make both quality and quantity consistent enough over the long haul that you will keep reading, subscribing, and commenting?

1. Something to be enthusiastic about

There’s an Albert Einstein quote that lives under the clear blotter on my desk: “We act as though comfort and luxury were the chief requirements of life, when all we need to make us happy is something to be enthusiastic about.” Enthusiasm for the topic will always shine through. Writing about what excites me will also keep blogging fun, which is the only consistent reward.

2. Stick to a schedule

I’ve been attending a 9am yoga class on Tuesdays, so I try hard to get my weekly post written before I go to class. That forces me to write during my most creative time (early morning), and it also imposes a 2-3 hour time frame that keeps me from wandering too far off track.

3. Explore a new idea

If I only write about what I already understand I will quickly run out of topics, so I use this blog as a way to explore new ideas. Often I’ll start writing about something and realize by the end of the post that I’ve reached a different conclusion. Then I’ll go back and edit the post to make it flow more smoothly, so that you can quickly absorb the point I’m trying to make.

Which brings me to my most important tip.

4. Enthusiasm + Clarity = Quality

Blogging may be casual, but I proofread and edit carefully before posting anything. Besides checking for spelling and grammatical errors, I try to make the primary idea of a post clear so that you don’t have to take too much of your valuable time to absorb it. It’s a sign of respect to you, and it also makes rereading old posts a lot more enjoyable.

As far as I know, there’s no magic button that will produce a weekly blog that’s worth the effort (both yours and mine). As long as I’m excited about sitting down at my desk every Tuesday morning, I’ll keep up with my weekly posts—and hopefully some will continue to resonate with you all. Because isn’t that what this blogging thing is all about?

Time Capsule: A Letter from 1995

A few months ago, a client was cleaning out several ancient filing cabinets when he noticed a letterhead with a familiar name. Dated March 7, 1995, I’d written a follow-up letter to a now-retired editor, looking for writing assignments.

The letter never led to any work (though apparently it was carefully filed away for future reference). And now twenty-two years later, it has morphed into a tiny time capsule, sparking a look back at how much the freelance writing world has changed—and a few aspects that haven’t changed at all.

Communication mechanics

Then: Attached to the letter was a meticulously updated resumé and three writing samples, because that was the proper, agreed-upon procedure when soliciting writing work. My primary goal was magazine articles, but I figured writing for individual companies might fill in some unused hours. (Maybe I was ahead of my time.)

Now: By the end of the 1990s, email was the preferred form of solicitation and I had begun to establish a bit of name recognition within the sailing industry, so resumés and writing samples were usually unnecessary. By the late 2000s, I would simply provide potential clients with a link to this blog—or tactfully refer to one of my books. So this letter (and the many others I sent that year) was probably one of the last printed requests for work I ever sent out.

Where the work is

Then: In 1995, my primary goal was writing for magazines (and writing fiction, which has been through its own complete evolution since then). I did write several pieces for a wide variety of publications in the sailing industry (Sailing World, Cruising World, Seahorse, as well as several that are no longer with us). And what I quickly realized was that it was very hard to justify the time and effort put into one-off pieces. The key to making a living as a writer was syndication, which really only worked in a bigger industry—and wasn’t my cup of tea at all.

Now: For the past ten years, magazine articles have been the spice while writing directly for companies has been the meat and potatoes. As selling has softened and websites have eliminate page count concerns, the demand for content has increased. Instead of syndication, now we all try to churn out as many words as possible—while also trying to keep the quality high, so they are worth what we’re paid for them.

Today the idea of printing and mailing a letter like this would be laughable—which is why this one felt like such a step back in time. The client who’d carefully saved it for me was still in short pants when I mailed that letter, so for him it probably felt like something akin to the Magna Carta. For me, the sight of a twenty year old letter head (without the “Cronin” I adopted three years later) brought me right back to those days of hopeful requests for work.

Which brings me to what hasn’t changed at all.

Who you know matters

Most of my work back in 1995 came by word of mouth. Today, that is still true. One job usually leads to another, so the hardest part is getting started. And even though I’m no longer writing letters, I still have to get the word out that I’m available—because “If you don’t ask, the answer is always no.”

Quality counts

In the time it’s taken me to write this post, two new content trends have probably been announced. But for more than the past two decades, the value of high quality writing has remained a constant. Leaving out a comma can be very expensive (as a dairy in Maine recently discovered), and sloppy spelling on a company website makes the whole business seem less professional. I’m proud to report that a careful reread of this twenty-two year old cover letter, resumé, and writing samples still makes me proud. The format may be only somewhat less archaic than the Magna Carta, but fortunately good writing never goes out of style.