So you want to be a pro?
(Part Two)
I got such encouraging responses to last week’s piece on writing for a living (or, to put it a tad more nicely, becoming a professional writer) that I thought I’d come up with a Part 2 — another set of 10 tips for the writer who thinks that he or she has what it takes to write full-time and earn from it. Consider these advanced lessons, meant for the writer who’s already taken the plunge, who has the talent and the drive, and who may already have notched some successful projects.
I know that you can find many how-to books out there that will probably tell you the same things, but let me save you a few pesos and a trip to the bookstore by drawing on my experience and that of some friends
1. Don’t just write, edit. Many projects don’t require writers — especially when the writing of the draft is done in-house by the regular staff — but they do require editors with a sharp eye for grammatical, mechanical, and stylistic errors and problems. Editing, of course, requires a higher level of mastery of the language. (Last week, I promised to do a full-blown piece on interviewing; today I’ll make another promise to do the same for editing.) While we’re on the subject, prepare to be edited. Don’t be so proud as to imagine that your prose is flawless. Even the best writers can misplace commas and apostrophes, or confuse their tenses (or worse, like I once did, their characters’ names).
2. Learn how to take pictures. Many writing jobs — like this column — occasionally require pictures to go with the text, and without a separate budget or extra manpower for photography, it’s left to the writer to take pictures as well. Invest in a good digital camera, and learn the basics of photography. I may never get good enough to become a professional photographer, but on the level of snapshots meant to illustrate a story, I can probably stand toe-to-toe with my fellow fictionists and journalists. Besides, photography is fun on its own, and can be a welcome break from working with words.
3. Understand and learn basic layout and design. Understand press and video production. This is the area of the graphic designer and art director, whose jobs I don’t mean for you to take on (although some gifted writers can, and do), but it’s good to know basic design principles and production processes, so you can anticipate the designer’s needs and work more closely with him or her for a cleaner product, and meet production deadlines.
4. Learn to work with other professionals. If possible, learn to work with the best. Learn and practice teamwork. Prima donnas don’t last. I’ve been fortunate to work with excellent photographers, designers, publishers, and fellow writers. Knowing them not only expanded my network of contacts, and brought me into theirs; I also observed and picked up work habits and attitudes that served me in good stead. It’s fascinating to see a master craftsman at work; many years ago, working on a 10-volume history of the Philippines which I edited and Nik Ricio designed, I watched as Nik labored on his own initiative to remove unsightly “rivers” that ran through blocks of text; imagine doing that to 10 volumes! (And if you don’t know what these rivers are, you can begin your self-education right now.)
5. Be prepared to travel. Okay, let’s be honest and admit that travel is more often a perk than a pain, especially when your ticket says “Paris” or “Boracay.” But do it often enough — or slog into the muddy hinterlands in a rickety tricycle — and you’ll be singing a different tune. Be ready for all kinds of trips, rides, and destinations. Make sure your passport is valid and your visas are current — you just might get lucky (or otherwise).
6. Back up your work. I can’t say this often enough, but there’s nothing worse than entrusting a major project to a single computer — then, when it’s halfway or nearly finished, losing it all to a virus, a sudden brownout, or some other disaster, and only then realizing that it hasn’t been backed up anywhere. This is why I prefer to work on a laptop — if the power fails, as it often does in these benighted isles, the battery will give you some time to save your work. I’m a redundancy freak and keep multiple copies of ongoing and completed projects on USB drives and external hard drives. I also email copies of ongoing work to myself, so I can retrieve them anywhere online.
7. Register as a professional, and keep proper accounts. If you’re going to undertake major projects with lots of zeroes on the check, your client will very likely require an official receipt. You can do that — as I did — by registering as a professional with the BIR. (Oddly enough, writers are classified — according to my certificate of registration — under “Other Entertainment Activities, Dance Instruction.” Hmmm, I think that merits yet another column.) Get familiar with contracts and conformés. On this note, write down your Taxpayer Identification Number and your cedula details on a card you can keep in your wallet, or encode them on your phone. Of course, ORs mean that you’ll be paying or at least be liable for taxes, so make sure you keep track of everything, or better yet, hire a professional bookkeeper. Believe me, it’s well worth the peace of mind.
8. Learn how to deal with failure. Not everything you do will turn out right. Sometimes it will be your fault, sometimes not. Take your losses, learn from them, lick your chops, and move on. I’ve had a couple of sad experiences with clients who — after agreeing to how the job should be done — realized later that they wanted something else. You can save a lot of grief by getting things mutually clear right at the beginning. When dealing with agencies or corporations, ask to liaise with just one or two persons with the authority to speak and decide for that organization; the last thing you want is to defend or explain yourself before a board of directors. (NGOs, I have to say, can be the most difficult clients; their management style encourages everyone to have a say in things, from texts to logos to titles, resulting in excruciating delays.)
9. Give yourself an incentive for doing well. In my deepest moments of anxiety or depression — when I’m facing a deadline but would rather be playing poker or pecking away at my next novel — I offer myself a little prize to keep me going: a weekend dash to Tagaytay for the repose and the bulalo, or a new digital toy, or yet another 1930s Parker Vacumatic in a rare color or configuration. Create your own carrot.
10. Give credit and give thanks to others. Again, whether it’s God, family, friends, co-workers, or people who were perfect strangers before you met them on the project — or all of the above — don’t forget to thank them for making your work possible. Writing is a lonely business, and you might think you’re so good to have done it all alone. But in fact, you’re hardly ever truly alone. The spouse who brings you coffee and puts up with your tantrums, the research and editorial assistants who scurry to come up with what you need, the colleague who covers for you in emergencies so you can finish a job — all of them deserve a word of thanks, or better yet, a share of No. 9, above.
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E-mail me at penmanila@yahoo.com, and visit my blog at www.penmanila.net.
