Life in the Bowling Lane

Per previous post, here’s my submission for the "FREELANCE SUCCESS STORIES" contest from Writer’s Digest books asking people to tell their stories about when they first realized they were successful freelance writers. (See entry for Jan. 31, 2007 on the outcome – fourth place and a tentative assignment from WD books!)

Life in the bowling lane

I’ve had many exciting milestones in my writing career: Getting my first letter to the editor published in a national magazine (Playboy, Dec. ‘78); winning the annual Writer’s Digest writing contest for a (non-fiction) piece called, “How to Get through a Divorce without Going Crazy”; the Saturday morning phone call I got from the editor of Metropolitan Parent magazine saying she “loved” the three stories I’d sent her; another phone call that came while I was fixing dinner one night from Woman’s Day magazine saying they’d accepted one of my articles; landing my first ad agency job; and probably the biggest thrill of all: the letter I got in March, 1988, from Writer’s Digest telling me they’d accepted my how-to piece on copywriting. (The letter still hangs on my office wall.)

All of those were encouraging and each propelled me forward in some way. But the moment I realized I was a successful freelance writer was a few years ago, one cold winter day while I was standing in the middle of a bowling alley. It was a brisk, sunny Thursday afternoon, and I had driven 50 miles to meet with a woman – Peg something or other – on a writing project for the Brunswick Corporation, the long-time manufacturer of bowling balls and equipment. Somebody had given Peg my name, and she wanted to talk to me about the assignment and what it entailed.

So I met with her, and as she began explaining the project to me, she said, “I’d like you to first talk with a couple of our engineers so you can get a better understanding of this whole thing.”

We walked over to the engineering department, and she introduced me to the two men, who began filling me in on the details. It seems they’d invented a new bowling alley cleaning machine and they needed an instruction manual to go with it. Writing the manual would be my job.

So I’m standing in the middle of this alley listening to the engineers explain how their machine works, and all of a sudden I couldn’t help it, I just started laughing. They kind of looked at me like, what’s going on? I was a little embarrassed, but right away I said, “I’m sorry,” shaking my head, “but I have to stop you before you go any further. Because I can tell you right now, I am not the person for this job.”

A bowling alley cleaning machine manual?? Is that what I wanted to spend the next three months of my life doing? No, it was not. It was way over my head. And that was when I realized I was a successful freelance writer: Because I had finally reached the point where I didn’t have to take this job. I could say, Thanks, but no thanks, this is one is not for me.

As a writer eking out a living in Rockford, Michigan, I’d had many, many years of saying yes to anything and everything that came down the pike: Brochures? Love 'em! Outdoor boards? Bring 'em on! Radio spots? Whoopee!

Around here, that’s what being a freelance writer is all about – writing for businesses and corporations. It’s the only way most of us can make a living. I mean, I’d love to be writing regularly for Condé Nast Traveler, but let’s get real. Breaking into the national magazine market, especially from here, is so hard. Yes, I’ve had a few little successes, but it was never anything that was going to pay the bills.

The local pubs don’t pay anything, either. I had a monthly column in a regional magazine for more than two years, but I don’t think my total earnings ever even hit $100; they just didn’t have the money.

Writing for corporations, however, now that pays – upwards of $65-$75 an hour. And there are all kinds of opportunities around, from web sites to TV spots. Yes, the furniture brochures do get boring, but writing newsletters never does; I always learn something. And interviewing high profile designers, which I do regularly for one client, still gives me a thrill. Traveling around the country (Hawaii, Florida, Idaho, New York) for another, staying in first-class hotels, continues to make me feel fortunate.

So it’s a nice life. But it’s always funny to me to hear people’s reactions when I tell them I’m a freelance writer. They’ll say, “Oh, really? Have you ever been published?” And I’ll say, “Yeah, a lot. Have you ever read any of the statement stuffers from your bank? I probably wrote them!”

I’ve learned that being a successful freelance writer doesn’t necessarily mean a byline in a national pub or a contract for a book. To me, it means being able to make a living doing what you love doing: writing.

And if there’s enough work in little old West Michigan to support me and probably 30 other freelancers around, there are probably opportunities where you live, too.

All I know is, it’s nice to now be in the position where I can pick and choose what I want to do. And who knows? Maybe one of these days, I’ll even have some time left over to try to crack that damn national magazine market.