October 14, 2006
Public Relations & You
I’ve been asked by a professor at the college where I am employed to deliver a lecture on public relations. My speech is tailored to the young, inexperienced, undergraduates in her class. The main theme will focus on how the demeanor and appearance of job seekers influences potential employers.
In my other professional life, I am managing editor for fiction for an international literary magazine. In that role I get to read some well written stories. In many cases, however, I must turn writers down in short order. My duty is to accept only the best a writer has to offer which complements the style accepted by the periodical I work for. I am intolerant towards authors who submit poorly written query letters which do not provide a plot summary or begin with a salutation. Many of the e-mails I receive are composed like text messages and expose the authors as incompetent writers. This brings me to my earlier ideas on public relations.
Writers are entrepreneurs who are the product they are marketing. They must present their stories to agents and editors who have their own individual biases and preferences. In order to be perceived as a skilled writer, one must begin with the opening sentences of their initial contact letter with respect for editor or agent’s position.
You may view your stories as art and be casual about your craft; but, make no mistake, the editor views your work as merchandise which may or may not help sell magazines. The writer/editor relationship is a business affiliation and is best treated as such. There is no room for informality and flattery. The writer needs to make a pitch and wait for a response. In turn, the editor will treat you with the same courtesy which you extended with your initial letter.
I’ve given speeches on public relations before, at the college. Typically, I package my sermons as informal advice while I am conducting seminars on technology. As I stand before a classroom of slouching, apathetic freshman, I point out that their manners convey a lot about them, either fairly or unfairly. While attending a university, you are actually on an extended job interview. The classmates surrounding you will enter the job market at roughly the same time you will soon after graduation. Some may already be working in your desired occupation and could potentially be the one interviewing you for the job you aspire to obtain.
Do you want to be remembered as someone who slept through most of their classes, drank a lot, and couldn’t memorize their class schedule? Or, do you wish to be admired as a dedicated learner who studied and made meaningful contacts through internships? The answer to that question is not always obvious to today’s youth, as they do not see marketing themselves as a vital effort.
Few recognize that companies must promote themselves to a fickle public, and therefore, selecting only the best from the talent pool will help them advance ahead of their competition. One fact which can never be overstated is that talent is sometimes available in abundance; and, other subtle factors are considered when interviewing candidates for any career opening. The key to accomplishment lies in the first impression one makes with a job interviewer.
Authors are free agents who vend their wares to a saturated market. A strong query with a proper greeting, story outline and word count, writing credits, and a conclusion, will rise above queries like these: “I have been published in far more prestigious magazines than this, so I know you’re going to accept my work,” or, a defensive tone “I don’t care if you publish me or not because I know I am good,” or the rude and poorly written e-mail “hi I want u to read my story ‘The riding cowboy’ which is something I wrote for my blog but did not post there becuz I am sending to u now so please publish it as I know you are accepting writing like this.”
In the end, I remain employed in my full time position because I consistently prove my worth to the College’s administration. My appearance is professional, and I deal with faculty, staff, vendors, and students alike with the same respect I wish they show me.
In the literary world, I am an editor who expects only the best creation a writer has to submit. It is assumed that an author wishes to peddle only their strongest pieces. When I open stories with poor grammar and with spelling errors, I am inclined to reject them. It’s obvious that the writer did not know, or did not care enough to find out what to do correctly; and, in those cases, it is not my function to teach the author grammar and punctuation, but to dismiss their submission.
I've been asked to be an editor because I impressed the magazine's founder with my experience and with my writing. When I read an e-mail from a writer, I want to be shown the same respect I offered to agents and editors whom I have queried over the years. It is not only professional, it is a courtesy, and it makes one’s work more acceptable before others.
In a few days, I am going to deliver my lesson on public relations. The main theme in my presentation will be personal appearance and professionalism. Right now the students are learning to market themselves, just as writers need to do.
Photo From Stock.Xchng
October 13, 2006
Seasons Of Living
This is the first Christmas season without my mother and father and it has hit me hard. Granted, I am a middle-aged man with a family, and there are those who have suffered greater losses while much younger. Still, my children miss them very much, and their passing left a big hole in our lives. Also, not having parents leaves me at the top of the family tree along with my brothers and sisters. I’m too young for that, I think.
My nieces and nephews are either in college or getting ready to go. My daughter is in high school and we are already picking out universities from websites and catalogs. My son will be entering middle school next September, and I feel like life is sailing past me rapidly. I’m in my forties, sliding down the back end of the hill. There’s nothing but gray hair and an A.A.R.P. membership in my future. I’m not unhappy, but I have a vague sense that I lack accomplishment.
I keep telling myself that I exist solely to prepare my children for the future and create a better life for them. Everything I do, I do with them in mind. There’s a blissful movie which runs through my head each night before falling asleep, of my wife and I watching our kids graduating college, starting meaningful careers, getting married, and bringing their babies back home for visits. However, inside, I hear a voice, harkening back to my childhood, and it is agitated. The voice is me as a boy, and he does not realize that he is mature, older, and almost a half-century in age.
Perhaps we all have a similar, internal monologue which asks us if we’re emotionally equipped to move forward. Time does not stop because we need a breather. Yet, I can hush the voice with my keen grasp on reality. The compass I use to guide me through periods of such anxiety is my family. Each season reawakens dormant, and apprehensive sentiments which need to be dusted off and afforded attention. Much like the Christmas tree I pulled out of storage a few days ago along with boxes of accompanying lights and ornaments, my feelings will be dealt with anew, and they will settle down as I move forward and adhere to the happiness my family brings me during each holiday.
This year is the one which will be marked with me being at the helm of an older generation. I’ll miss my parents and others who have departed before them. Still, I cannot succumb to my inner child’s fear and allow myself even an instant of self pity or to wallow in remorse. After all, I have children who see me as a role model. One day they will lose me, and they need to know how to move on.
My nieces and nephews are either in college or getting ready to go. My daughter is in high school and we are already picking out universities from websites and catalogs. My son will be entering middle school next September, and I feel like life is sailing past me rapidly. I’m in my forties, sliding down the back end of the hill. There’s nothing but gray hair and an A.A.R.P. membership in my future. I’m not unhappy, but I have a vague sense that I lack accomplishment.
I keep telling myself that I exist solely to prepare my children for the future and create a better life for them. Everything I do, I do with them in mind. There’s a blissful movie which runs through my head each night before falling asleep, of my wife and I watching our kids graduating college, starting meaningful careers, getting married, and bringing their babies back home for visits. However, inside, I hear a voice, harkening back to my childhood, and it is agitated. The voice is me as a boy, and he does not realize that he is mature, older, and almost a half-century in age.
Perhaps we all have a similar, internal monologue which asks us if we’re emotionally equipped to move forward. Time does not stop because we need a breather. Yet, I can hush the voice with my keen grasp on reality. The compass I use to guide me through periods of such anxiety is my family. Each season reawakens dormant, and apprehensive sentiments which need to be dusted off and afforded attention. Much like the Christmas tree I pulled out of storage a few days ago along with boxes of accompanying lights and ornaments, my feelings will be dealt with anew, and they will settle down as I move forward and adhere to the happiness my family brings me during each holiday.
This year is the one which will be marked with me being at the helm of an older generation. I’ll miss my parents and others who have departed before them. Still, I cannot succumb to my inner child’s fear and allow myself even an instant of self pity or to wallow in remorse. After all, I have children who see me as a role model. One day they will lose me, and they need to know how to move on.
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