Have you seen that obnoxious TV commercial where this guy named Dave plays all the roles in his business? People keep calling his name. “Dave.” “Dave!” “Dave?” I honestly don’t know what they’re advertising. I’m so busy muting the sound that I don’t pay attention to the product. However, we writers may sometimes feel a little bit like Dave. At least until we get rich and famous, we play all the roles. We are the boss, the accountant, the secretary, the researcher, the publicist, tech support, and oh yes, the writer.
We answer the phones, manage the mail, file the papers and keep the office fully stocked and running. Over the next few posts, we’ll look at each of these jobs, offering ways to get them done while taking a minimum of time away from your writing.
Let’s talk about the telephone.
I have a love-hate relationship with my telephone. Some days I want to unplug it, but I might miss an editor telling me she loves my story or the source I have been waiting to hear from for a week. I might also miss a family member with an emergency. But if the words are rolling, I definitely don’t want to hear from the dentist reminding me of my appointment, anybody asking for money, an editor requiring a rewrite–or, to be honest, a friend who wants to chat. I just want to write in peace.
As for outgoing calls, well, they make me nervous. Show of hands, how many of us suddenly become shy when it comes to cold-calling a source or an editor about our work? Good. I’m not alone. You keep putting it off until it’s so late you’re about to miss the deadline. You find a hundred other things you need to do before you make that call. You might even pick up the phone, start to dial, then slam the receiver down or slap the cell phone shut. No. Not yet. Maybe later. Sound familiar?
I don’t blame you. I often e-mail instead of calling. But the phone, as they used to say on the TV commercials, is the next best thing to being there. It’s hard to have a dialogue by e-mail, even with the chat function. You can’t hear the tone of their voice, their accent, their emotions, or the dog barking in the background. Most important, you can’t follow up with questions in the natural way of a real conversation.
Besides, an editor or agent who can’t reach you by telephone probably won’t want to work with you.
So, you’ve got to have a phone. But what kind? Today’s phones identify callers, answer when you’re not home, record conversations and remember phone numbers. Cell phones can take pictures and exchange e-mail messages. New telephone features show up every day. But they all cost money. One could easily spend $200 a month on telephone expenses. What do you really need? Let’s look at the options in descending order.
1) A telephone. The actual equipment can be inexpensive, with no special features as long as it makes calls in and out. You could even buy a telephone at a second-hand store for a buck or two. Bonus: The old-fashioned phones still work when the power goes out. Cell phones cost more, but may be cheaper in the long run because they’re not only portable but offer plans where long-distance is almost free. Lots of people are opting to use their cell phone for everything. Where I live, cell phone reception is bad, so I count on the landline, but I’d go all cell if I could.
2) Voicemail, an answering machine or an answering service. Even if you take your phone everywhere you go, you’re bound to miss a call if you’re already on the line or in the shower. If you are trying to impress editors and sources that you’re a real writer, the last thing you need is for them to hear endless ringing. The second worst is a child babbling baby talk or a smart-aleck roommate who likes to answer, “Joe’s Bar.” And check your voicemail to make sure it’s working. If a caller gets a message saying your voicemail box is full, offline, or out of order, they’re likely to hang up and never call back.
3) Caller ID, which shows you the name and telephone number of the person calling. If your phone didn’t come with a Caller ID built in, you can attach a caller ID box. For non-cell phones, the service costs another $5 or so a month, but it’s worth it. You can see who’s calling, allowing you to decide whether or not to answer. If it’s a work call, you can pull your notes out and be ready. In addition, the service keeps a list of callers, including those who didn’t leave a message.
4) A separate line for business calls. Working from home, it is difficult to separate your writing from real life. It’s also hard keeping other family members, especially teenagers, from grabbing the phone every time it rings. If everyone knows “That’s Dad’s business phone,” then Dad can choose whether to answer it or declare that he’s off for the day.
5) A built-in tape recorder. This is a nice feature, especially if you do a lot of telephone interviews, but you can buy a two-dollar connector at Radio Shack to hook your tape recorder to almost any phone for the same result. If you do record a call, tell the person you’re doing it. Most people don’t object if you assure them you’re only doing it for accuracy.
A word about “call waiting.” When the phone beeps with another call, it distracts both parties. Even if you decide to ignore it, the repeated beeping may very well ruin what would have been a fruitful conversation. Most phone companies have a code you can dial to shut off call waiting temporarily. For business calls, use it. Speaking of beeping, keep your cell phone charged, so it doesn’t start beeping in the middle of a call. It might even quit altogether.
At a regular job, someone else would answer your phone and screen your calls, but as a freelancer running your own writing business, you ARE the secretary and receptionist. If you’re making your first impression by telephone, it needs to be a good one. No matter what’s happening when the phone rings, take a breath and answer it professionally. “Hello, this is Sue” works a lot better than a harried, “Yeah?” Let them know who you are and that you’re actually happy to hear from them–just like a real receptionist would do.
Next time: managing the mail.
Copyright 2012 Sue Fagalde Lick
