There are no puffy white dresses or suitors at this coming out party. There is, however, a glass of bubbly.
I’d been contemplating creating a business for a long time. But I wasn’t sure what I could offer. I had great business connections from my work with a St. John’s not-for-profit. I know the current labour market and political scene inside out, but writing was only ever part of the job.
Don’t get me wrong, I got plenty of compliments on my writing from my co-workers and the volunteer board I often ghostwrote for – maybe I suffered a little from imposter syndrome – but I never really did identify as a writer, despite doing the job for nearly 15 years.
One morning – not long after sending one of those ghost-written columns for approval – I received two compliments on my writing that would change everything.
One was from my supervisor, telling me they’d opened the e-mailed document planning to read it later in the afternoon along with some other reading, but after scanning the first line, got so engrossed they read the whole column and had to make the call to tell me how reading it had impacted them.
For a former journalist, someone always trying to write the perfect first sentence that will suck the reader into the story, it was a pretty high compliment.
The second compliment came only hours later that day, in the form of a voicemail from the person I had written the column for. The tone of this voicemail was astonishment.
The woman’s voice on the recorded message became emphatic; said she’d realized I was a good writer, but that she’d never understood how well I could capture her “voice.” That the column had exactly her tone, her passion, written into it and she said was so pleased she had access to someone who could seemingly get into her head and articulate the things she never felt she could.
I left the office immediately and once outside, called my Mom, as I am wont to do upon hearing either exciting or terrible news.
My tone, I realized, as I spoke to her was also astonishment.
“I am a writer,” I said
Mom, in typical mother fashion, responded with a “well, duh,” response.
I repeated myself, more excited and curious this time at my own realization, “I am a writer.”
“Yes, dear,” my Mom said.
That day, I knew my business would not be consulting or making connections for business people. It wouldn’t be editing video, a self-taught, recent passion, nor would it be designing ads, another new adventure I was on.
No. I would be a writer.
And here I am, pounding out projects for companies, big and small, on my little MacBook . This whole post sounds a tad self-serving, and in a way I guess it is. It’s my introduction, my debut. But it’s also the story of a beginning and that should be noted.
This blog will be a place where I share what I do and how, so you can take practical pro-active steps to incorporate great writing into your company’s collateral. Because the right words can mean the difference between a cursory look at your website or sales materials, or it can mean an intrigued buyer, excited about the work you do.
Today, I will keep calm and write on.
I’d been contemplating creating a business for a long time. But I wasn’t sure what I could offer. I had great business connections from my work with a St. John’s not-for-profit. I know the current labour market and political scene inside out, but writing was only ever part of the job.
Don’t get me wrong, I got plenty of compliments on my writing from my co-workers and the volunteer board I often ghostwrote for – maybe I suffered a little from imposter syndrome – but I never really did identify as a writer, despite doing the job for nearly 15 years.
One morning – not long after sending one of those ghost-written columns for approval – I received two compliments on my writing that would change everything.
One was from my supervisor, telling me they’d opened the e-mailed document planning to read it later in the afternoon along with some other reading, but after scanning the first line, got so engrossed they read the whole column and had to make the call to tell me how reading it had impacted them.
For a former journalist, someone always trying to write the perfect first sentence that will suck the reader into the story, it was a pretty high compliment.
The second compliment came only hours later that day, in the form of a voicemail from the person I had written the column for. The tone of this voicemail was astonishment.
The woman’s voice on the recorded message became emphatic; said she’d realized I was a good writer, but that she’d never understood how well I could capture her “voice.” That the column had exactly her tone, her passion, written into it and she said was so pleased she had access to someone who could seemingly get into her head and articulate the things she never felt she could.
I left the office immediately and once outside, called my Mom, as I am wont to do upon hearing either exciting or terrible news.
My tone, I realized, as I spoke to her was also astonishment.
“I am a writer,” I said
Mom, in typical mother fashion, responded with a “well, duh,” response.
I repeated myself, more excited and curious this time at my own realization, “I am a writer.”
“Yes, dear,” my Mom said.
That day, I knew my business would not be consulting or making connections for business people. It wouldn’t be editing video, a self-taught, recent passion, nor would it be designing ads, another new adventure I was on.
No. I would be a writer.
And here I am, pounding out projects for companies, big and small, on my little MacBook . This whole post sounds a tad self-serving, and in a way I guess it is. It’s my introduction, my debut. But it’s also the story of a beginning and that should be noted.
This blog will be a place where I share what I do and how, so you can take practical pro-active steps to incorporate great writing into your company’s collateral. Because the right words can mean the difference between a cursory look at your website or sales materials, or it can mean an intrigued buyer, excited about the work you do.
Today, I will keep calm and write on.