August 2015 - The HerStories Project

Month: August 2015

Meet Our New Assistant Editor: Allie Smith

The HerStories Project keeps expanding…. beyond what Stephanie and I can manage on our own! We reached out to get a little help.

We’re thrilled to announce that Allie Smith, freelance writer and contributor to Mothering Through the Darkness, has joined our team as Assistant Editor. She’ll be helping us out with the HerStories Voices column and with our blog tour and other promotional projects in anticipation of the book’s publication in November.

If you’re not familiar with Allie, she blogs at The LatchKey Mom. (Read more of her bio on the new HerStories Project Editors and Team page!)

Allie was also kind enough to answer a few questions.

Jessica: How did you hear about the HerStories Project?

Allie: The first blogger I became friends with was Nina Badzin. At the time I was writing book reviews for Chick Lit Central and trying to understand this thing called “Twitter.” The woman who runs the site suggested I check out Nina’s blog, because she had great tips for how to use Twitter. While there, I saw an essay about her “failed career as a novelist,” which I loved. I started following her and read everything she wrote. She had an essay about friendship breaks published at The HerStories Project. I love reading about female friendships and I became a fan of the site.

Jessica: What is your favorite type of writing — as a writer and as a reader?

Allie: My favorite type of writing is nonfiction story telling. I like to write about my family and particularly about our travel adventures (we take huge road trips every summer). I think that’s where my voice comes through the best. I prefer to write about happy things, although my more serious or sad pieces seem to be more popular.

As for reading, I’m all over the place. I love to read fiction with a happy ending. Not necessarily sappy happy endings, but I want to feel as though I’m leaving my new friends in a good place. I enjoy humorous pieces as well – fiction and nonfiction. Inspirational essays and memoirs – stories about people overcoming obstacles and living their lives the way they were meant to. I’m always reading whatever I can about slowing down the aging process and healthy living. Finally, I’m a shameless consumer of celebrity gossip – I visit People.com and TMZ frequently!

Jessica: What are your goals for yourself as a writer?

Allie: Once upon a time, I wanted to be the new Nora Roberts, but I’ve let that one go. My dream is to have a road trip memoir published, and perhaps an autism memoir as well.

Jessica: Tell us a little about yourself (your family, your hobbies, background).

Allie: I’m a married mother of four (ages 8-14), living in the suburbs of Atlanta. I’m a former CPA, with a B.A. in Business Administration and a master’s degree in Accounting. It took me a couple of years to realize that the corporate world of accounting didn’t make me happy. As a stay-at-home mom, I joined a writing group and took a few classes and wrote secretly in my office for years. For our first big summer road trip, I started a blog so family and friends could follow us on our adventure – and I got the bug. I wrote book reviews for a couple of sites, before launching my own blog, The Latchkey Mom. In the last few years I’ve had my work published on a variety of websites and I write a travel column for a local magazine. I’m also very excited to have an essay featured in the HerStories Project’s upcoming anthology, Mothering Through the Darkness.

I love to read, so much so that I often annoy my family and friends with “book talk.” If I pass a stranger who is reading a book, I have to stop and ask what they’re reading. I cannot possibly pick a favorite book or author.

I love to travel, and often have as much fun planning a trip as taking it. The beach is my happy place and spending time with my family and friends will cure almost anything. I’m organizationally challenged, unless a spreadsheet is involved (old habits die hard). My favorite TV shows, past and present, are Mad Men, House of Cards, Friday Night Lights, The Good Wife, Friends, Sex in the City and Downton Abbey. I don’t do reality TV – except for Dancing with the Stars, which I watch with my daughter.

My vices include coffee with creamer that isn’t good for you, really good Chardonnay, and all forms and flavors of cheese. I’m eternally devoted to the New England Patriots and the Boston Red Sox and have held grudges against people who’ve attacked them – you’ve been warned. I also harbor a few inappropriate crushes on men I’ll never meet: Kyle Chandler, Jon Bon Jovi, Chris Pratt, and Kid Rock (although this one, I am working through).

Please join us in welcoming Allie to the HerStories Project!

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HerStories Voices: Solidify

Like our HerStories Voices contributor Jackie Cangro, I am not one to initiate or encourage conversation in public places with strangers — on public transportation, at the library, in line at the grocery store. I’d rather be left alone in my (quiet) thoughts. It sounds, you know, unfriendly, to admit something like that. And sometimes I wonder if I’m missing out. So that’s why I love this essay about an unanticipated — and not necessary wanted — conversation. – Jessica

It isn’t often that I get a seat on the subway ride home from work. As luck would have it, today I am standing in front of someone who gets off at the Park Place stop in lower Manhattan. You can’t hesitate for a moment if you want to sit on a crowded train. Polite people stand a lot.

This gives me the opportunity to get engrossed in my book without being jostled. I’m nearly transported from the gritty bowels of New York City to antebellum Virginia when the woman to my left asks me a question.

“Do you know what this word means?” She points to solidify in her book.

“It means ‘to make stronger.’”

“I’m going to write that down in my book so I don’t forget it.” She flips the pages to the back cover to show me a long list of words on which she needed clarification.

We smile at each other and return to our books. I could tell you that I had warm, fuzzy feelings about this exchange, but that would be a lie. I could also tell you that my guarded nature developed only after moving to New York City fifteen years ago, but that too would be a lie. The truth is that even when I lived in the suburbs with grassy spaces between houses and expansive views of the sky, I was not one for idle chitchat with strangers. I’m not the person who will talk your ear off on the flight from Albuquerque to Atlanta or the one holding up the supermarket checkout line while telling the cashier my life story. I wish it came naturally for me to be one of those people who love people. Many New Year’s resolutions of my youth involved being more loquacious, but by January 5, I was exhausted.

That’s not to say I don’t try to be helpful. Need to know how to get to Harlem from Brooklyn Heights? I’m here for you. Want a hint on which hipster coffee shop has the most reliable Wi-Fi? No problem. But I’m not going to divulge personal shortcomings to a stranger on a train—the way this woman will in just a few minutes.

I nod at her, unsure what else to say, and give her my polite this-conversation-has-run-its-course look, but she hits me with another question out of left field. “How do you know if you’re a visual or auditory learner?”

The train rocks and sways under the East River heading into Brooklyn. As a captive audience in a subway car, I’ve learned that the worst thing you can do in this situation is to make eye contact. Even a hardened glare only serves to encourage some people. Yet something about her earnest question makes me look. She has a pleasingly round face and a shaved head with a five o’clock shadow. The lack of hair makes her pink lipstick stand out against her chocolate skin.

“I guess whichever comes easier for you,” I say.

“Which one are you?”

Now, this seems a bit personal. I glance out the window to see that we are only at Clark Street—a full six stops from home. There’s no way to end this conversation, so I know I have to let it run its course. “I suppose I’m a visual learner.”

“How do you know?”

“I’d rather read directions than hear them, for example.”

She writes this down on a separate piece of paper, under the heading ‘Visual Versus Auditory.’ It seems that she is also a visual learner; she just doesn’t realize it. Her smile is wide, and she gives off a kind vibe, not a creepy one. “Do you have any tips for taking tests? I’m always looking for tips.”

It’s been many years since I’ve taken a test. The last one, to complete my Master’s Degree, was the most intimidating of my life. We were given one essay question from each of seven courses completed and allotted one hour per question to write our answers in exam books. The proctor looked at us coolly as we entered the room, trying desperately to retain all of the information we’d memorized until we could regurgitate it on the page. She sighed. “Most of you will fail today and have to retake the exam next semester.” A fellow student leaned over and looked at me with a fierceness that comes from a combination of being sleep deprived and over-caffeinated. She whispered that we were going to make it through. I’d only had one class with her and couldn’t even remember her last name, but I believed her.

On the other hand, it wasn’t too long ago that I gave tests as an adjunct instructor at a local college. So I tell the woman next to me what I would have told my students. “Be confident and don’t second-guess your answers. Your first instinct is nearly always right.”

She smiles again—a big, broad smile that takes up her whole face. “Yes, I usually have good intuition. All my friends tell me that.”

She goes on to tell me how inspired she is by the book she’s reading and since she’s read all three books by the author, she doesn’t know what she’ll read when she’s done. Now she’s trying to read very slowly. She also thanks me for talking to her. “You know, every time I get on the train I ask God to put me next to someone smarter than me. I’m trying to learn all of the things I didn’t learn when I was younger. I know I’m kind of old for this. It’s not easy starting from scratch.”

“No, it’s not, but please don’t give up. It’s never too late.” I suddenly and deeply care that she not quit. I want her to dream big. I am prepared to dream bigger for her than she is allowing herself to dream. I know sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps you going—to feel that someone else, even a stranger, believes in you.

The train pulls into Grand Army Plaza, and I take my leave of her. In a fifteen-minute conversation with a woman I’d never laid eyes on before, and probably never will again, I’ve been reminded to trust my instincts, let my guard down, and remember the power of tenacity. All things on which my soul needed a bit of a refresher.

Jackie Cangro’s short story “Secrets of a Seamstress” was selected as a finalist in the Saturday Evening Post’s 2013 Great American Fiction Contest. Her fiction has also been published in The MacGuffin and Pangolin Papers, and her nonfiction has appeared in Narrative.ly, Prick of the Spindle, and History Magazine, among others. She can be found on her blog, on Twitter, and Goodreads. When she’s not riding the subway, she works as a freelance editor and creative writing instructor.

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HerTake: Your Friend, Not Your Free Editor

Today’s question comes from a writer who feels that friends and acquaintances who ask for “quick” editing help for their writing projects or their teens’ college essays, for example, are taking advantage of her friendship. We bet that readers from many professions can relate.

Do you have a question for Nina? Use our anonymous form. You can read Nina’s answers to past questions here.

Dear Nina,

I am a writer with print and online credits and a blog. However, I think my question applies to lawyers, doctors, nutritionists, physical trainers, or really anyone with a business that relies on expertise.

Let me start by saying that I consider myself a generous and attentive friend, but I am struggling to know where the line is between allowing myself to be taken advantage of and helping my friends.

Here’s the situation: Friends and acquaintances often ask me to “take a look at” (in other words, help with) their writing or their kids’ writing. I’m talking about college admission essays, special occasion speeches, blog posts, articles, or even basic emails. I also have acquaintances who want to get into the publishing business, perhaps as a blogger, who send me their essays to read, ask for detailed feedback and sometimes for the names of the magazine and site editors I’ve worked with in the past. Sometimes it truly is a just quick read and I’m happy to help. Other times, the editing or publishing advice requires much more of my time and energy than I am comfortable giving, but I have a hard time saying no.

I don’t want to resent my friends, but I don’t feel comfortable asking for some kind of payment, especially since I’ve never set up an official editing business. Do you think it’s okay to charge my friends/acquaintances for this type of help even though I do not run an editing business and do not necessarily want to run an editing business? I’m not sure how I can explain to a friend that at some point as I’m helping her kid with a college admissions essay, for example, that I’d want to be compensated for my time.

As an aside, I have a few “go-to” writers who edit my work every now and then, but it is almost always reciprocated eventually. I look over their work, they look over mine. It’s an unspoken, equal arrangement. I am referring to something different with these other requests. My main question is this: What is the best way to let a friend know that she (or he) has crossed a line from asking for a quick favor to taking advantage of me?

Thanks for any advice,

Your Friend, Not Your Free Editor

Dear Your Friend, Not Your Free Editor,

Thank you for this question! I have the same problem, but receiving your question really pushed me to think more about how I want to handle these writing/editing favors in the future. People ask me for the same sort of help you’ve described: “the quick looks” that include emails back and forth for days even when I think I’ve said all there is to say; the college admissions essays that I don’t feel quite right about helping with anyway; the publishing and blogging advice; and in my case, advice about Twitter and other detailed social media questions. I don’t mind giving a quick read and an overall opinion or a quick look at a site or a Twitter feed, but when it starts getting to the paragraph-by-paragraph questions or more involved strategy questions (for social media or blogging), then I feel like I’m spending time that could and should be billable, or spent on my own work, or not spent on my computer.

To tell you the truth, I had a hard time even writing the previous paragraph because, like you, I consider myself a generous and helpful friend. Also like you, I’m not particularly interested in starting a business nor am I all that good at saying no. Alas, you and I have the same questions. How do we charge our friends and acquaintances if we weren’t intending to run a business? But, how do we not charge them if we want to help without resenting the time we’re spending?

Since I’ve had little success solving this issue before now, I asked a version of your question on Facebook. Several writers chimed in to say they have the same problem. It’s no surprise that the most solution-oriented answer came from a friend who is not a writer!

My friend Steven said: As a lawyer I am somewhat familiar with the situation of being asked for advice. One thing that I think helps is knowing what you and/or your time is worth (and having it written down). That way, when someone asks you for help, rather than saying, I’ll think about it,” you can say, “I’d be happy to help, I typically charge $50 per hour or $100 for a project, so let me know what you think would be in your budget.” Even if you end up charging a lot less, or nothing, it sends a powerful message that you are doing more than a favor.

Steven also suggested the following as another possible response to a request for help: “My hourly rate, is over $150 per hour. For a friend I’m always happy to give you the first hour or two of my time, but after that I really need to charge.” Again, this creates a much better dynamic between the professional and the potential client. Another thing often done in billing is to charge the full amount, but then give discounts. This again reflects the true value of the service you’re providing.

A professional writer and editor I know, Hila Ratzabi, also said something that felt right and showed how taking ourselves seriously and valuing our expertise and time is the first step. Hila said, “Friends who respect my work insist on paying.” I suspect that Hila respected herself and her time before she expected anyone else to do the same. I think Hila’s and Steven’s responses go hand-in-hand.

A related story: one writer friend (who is also a lawyer) is the only one who has ever insisted on paying me for my editing time. We set up a structure for her to pre-pay for a few hours, which made her feel more comfortable emailing with revisions and questions and cover letters. My level of help to her was significantly better and more helpful than my free “quick looks” that I did as favors. She encouraged me to make a page on my site to advertise my services, but I was nervous that I’d end up doing more editing than writing. Your question, however, reminded me that having that information organized and written down is important, even if I just take on a few clients a year.

Your Friend, Not Your Free Editor, I’m giving us both an assignment.
1. Recognize the monetary value of our time and experience. We must recognize that the years we have spent writing, editing, blogging, and getting our work published is worth something. To echo Steven, it is more than a little favor when a friend asks for that expertise for free.
1. Pricing! While it might be hard to put a number on our experience and time, we can certainly research what is standard in the freelance editing and social media consulting world and charge accordingly. (I’ve seen anything from $50-200/hour.) I liked Steven’s idea of giving discounts or giving away the first hour, but making it clear what our time is worth.
1. Write it all down! We need to create a one-page document that lists our services and our rates (on mine, I would also include the social media piece). That document can exist on our sites or simply on our desktops to forward to anyone who inquires. I don’t think that creating this document or sharing it means we are now editors by trade instead of writers. It’s simply a logical solution to a problem. Also, the extra cash would be nice!
1. Learn to say no! If we absolutely do not feel like we can charge our friends, then we both need to get better at saying no to the request in the first place. Easier said than done, I know.
Good luck to you! And to me!

I know there are readers out there who can commiserate or can tell us how they solved this problem. Please let us know in the comments.

Until next time,

Nina

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