Writing with Persistence

PERSISTENCE in WRITING

Win-Win Propositions

Persistence in writing DOES pay off! Win-win propositions pay off, too. What is a win-win? It is a deal that makes both people happy. I remember the first time I used that term.

The American Legion’s upcoming 75th Anniversary Edition was in preparation and their national office was fifteen miles away. Unfortunately, I didn't realize that soon enough. I called to ask about vacant positions and the kind editor, Mr. Greenwald, said all were full. *Click I sat speechless, holding a dead connection to my ear.

Somewhere on the path of life, I had heard not to take no for an answer, so I called again the next day.

"Hello, Mr. Greenwald. This is Deborah Owen calling back... " and the not so kind editor cut me off mid-sentence with, "As I said yesterday, all positions are filled. Thank you for calling.” *Click

I didn't sleep much that night. I lay in bed devising a plan whereby Mr. Greenwald would have to hear me out. By morning, I was ready with a new angle. I called him again and spoke fast, literally reading from a written script, faking the bravado and excitement I had two days ago:

“Hello, Mr. Greenwald. This is Deborah Owen again. I understand that you don’t have any openings available, but I have a win-win proposition that's sure to interest you. Let me take you out to lunch and we can discuss it. What day would be convenient for you?"

He tried every way possible to finagle the proposition out of me, but I sensed that it would be good-bye for good if we didn't eyeball each other so I said, "It's much too complicated to explain on the phone. You choose the time and place and I'll tell you in person." He hesitated. "I promise to be brief," I said.

After great reluctance, he agreed. Nervous and on cloud nine, we met at his office Friday and walked two blocks to the diner. All the way, he wanted to know what it was all about, but I said, "There's plenty of time for business. Let's eat first."

At the diner, I asked how long he had been editor at The American Legion, where he worked before and what his goals were. (People love to talk about themselves, so it was great strategy. At the end of the meal he asked about the great win-win proposition. The time had come. I tried to look confident and enthusiastic (best done with a smile on one's face).

"I'm a published freelance writer but I have yet to work inside a magazine. I understand the importance of a deadline and I'm never late. I'm meticulous in researching and was once a secretary for five men so I have good office skills. I'm a touch typist and a quick learner. Here's my proposition: I'll work for you free of charge. I'll research, write, edit, or sweep floors if you'll let me work on the 75th Edition with you. Teach me. I want to learn. I'll be the first to arrive in the morning and the last to leave at night. No matter what job you assign, you can count on it being done well. Now if that's not a win-win proposition, I don't know what one is."

With a smile, he answered, “Let me give you some advice, Mrs. Owen. Never offer your services for nothing. Someone may think you aren't worth anything, and everyone is worth something. I'll see you Monday morning at 8 am... and I will pay you a salary. I met you because I was curious, and I hired you because you were persistent. Persistence is an excellent quality. You'll intern directly beneath me and you can have the desk right outside my office."

The waitress brought the check and I reached for my billfold -- which I had left on my dresser. I dug every penny out of my purse as Mr. Greenwald watched. The few bills I had plus all my change left me with a fifteen-cent tip. The editor was still staring as I stood up, squared my shoulders, and walked to the door.

I researched amazing WWI history, contacted WWI veterans, created two whole sections in that 75th edition, and drafted 37 articles. No other job taught me so much in such a short length of time (eight weeks). I would like to end the story here, but there’s more.

Mr. Greenwald sent me on an errand to some big shot politician. She was nice looking and dressed to the hilt. I witnessed her brief conversation with a third party and could not believe my ears. She had outright lied to the third party. Putting both feet in my mouth at the same time, I stepped in and called her on it. It did my heart good to see the big muckety-muck get the shaft, turn beet red, and walk away. But a week later, it came back to bite me. The lady liar turned out to be higher on the totem pole than I thought. She found me and demanded my job. Mr. Greenwald had the unpleasant duty of firing me, but not before I received a dressing down on how to conduct myself in politics.

I went home and licked my wounds for a very long time. My emotions had run the gamut. The high had been too high. The low far too low. My heart turned to stone and I quit writing for ten years.

But here's the lesson:

When doors don't open easily, quit knocking and use a crowbar. Know what you are going to say. Write it down and practice saying it out loud and then go for it! What do you have to lose?

Greet the editor with a strong handshake.
Insist on a lunch date -- their schedule -- your treat.
Make the conversation about him/her.
DON'T leave your wallet at home.
And above all, learn when to keep your mouth shut. Editors want to hire writers who have horse sense, not know-it-alls who place the magazine in a bad light.

Writing persistence and win-win propositions will take you far, but in the end, you must step out and do it for yourself.

Mr. Greenwald was a main stepping stone in my life. A few years later, I founded Creative Writing Institute and now I spend my life helping young writers. The future is exciting! Go after it. And since you're in the neighborhood, swing by my writing school at http://www.creativewritinginstitute.org.

If I can be of further help, feel free to write: [e-mail].

Very best,

Deborah Owen