So here’s the thing. Normally, I’d advise writers to ease into full time work as circumstances allow. There’s no one right way to become a professional writer. Maybe you’re fed up at work. Maybe you saw a chance and you think it’s time to go for it. Maybe you just finished an online degree program and feel ready to go pro. However, I made a discovery over the past week. Three years ago, I wrote a young adult novel. It was fair, and certainly had potential. I got nibbles from a few agents, but nobody bit for full representation. Writing it was like pulling teeth. I struggled to make 1,000 words a day. I routinely had to force myself to sit down and bang out my goal. I liked the story, but hated writing it. Last week, I got hit in the head with an idea for another young adult novel. Three years of writing daily for a living have made a noticeable difference. I’m banging out 2k or 3k words every day just on that story, and it’s coming easily. I’ll post later about some of the things I notice that I learned over those years. I’m enjoying the process of writing it. It’s not always easy, but there’s a flow to it. I blame the habits and the practice of the intervening years. Malcolm Gladwell (I want to be him when I grow up) writes in Outliers about research indicating 10,000 hours is the amount of practice you need to become an expert at a task. Three years, figure three hundred days per year, four hours each day of actual writing time…that’s 3,600 hours so far. I wonder what it will be like by the time I reach 10,000. The moral of this story isn’t necessarily that you should quit your job, and its accompanying health insurance for your seven children, today. But it is that you should write. Every day. Without fail. No excuses. Write. Every. Day. Even if you don’t notice your slow accumulation of competence, your readers will. Thanks for listening.

Many of you have read this list, or a version of it, at some time in the past. It’s been running around the internet since UseNet was the only place such things ran around in. Kids in the audience should consult their favorite paleontologist if they’re unclear on what UseNet is.

Origins of these analogies vary according to the version of the email or blog post. Popular theories include:

• Entries in a “bad analogy” contest.
• Text culled by high school teachers over the years.
• Some wise guy making stuff up.

http://writingenglish.wordpress.com/2006/09/12/the-25-funniest-analogies-collected-by-high-school-english-teachers/

http://patrickmylund.com/blog/25-funny-analogies/

http://shayari.sr-ultimate.com/funny/funny-the-25-funniest-analogies.html

Read ’em. Or — more likely — read ’em again. Funny and educational is powerful stuff.

And now, the contest…

Take one of the analogies. Mad-lib with it, keeping the same basic structure but turning it into the funniest thing I’ve read this year. Post your entries in the comments below.

For the winner, I will post word-for-word the compliment of your choice on my personal and professional Facebook pages, and do a guest post on the subject of your choice on your blog if you have one.

I’ll make my final choice next week and announce the winner in that Friday Fun post.

Good luck.

I may have made a mistake in naming my youngest son. Our oldest is adopted, so I didn’t get any practice before it was time to name young Gabriel. Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s a great name. It has cultural implications of power. It’s common enough people won’t mispronounce it, yet rare enough that there won’t be four of them in his first grade class. (Jasons out there shout out for getting why I find that last one important.)

But here’s the thing. He’s 18 months old now and really starting to get letter recognition beyond the ability to mimic what I say or perform parlor tricks that elicit positive adult attention over his ability to rote memorize.

He’s already got “W” down, in and out of context. I like to think it’s because of my fondness for Widmer beer, but that may be wishful thinking. And that’s where his name comes in.

We’re working on the letters of his name. My name starts with “J” — ju-ju-ju-jayson. My oldest starts with “D” — du-du-deejay. My wife’s name starts with “B” — bu-bu-bu-beverlee..

Gabriel’s name starts with “G” — ju-ju-ju-….uh….damn.

No wonder English is one of the only languages you can make a living teaching all over the world. It’s downright confusing.

Thanks for listening.

Hey everybody. I now have a fan page on Facebook.

Like me for fast access to updates and breaking news. I’ll be ramping up my FB presence over the coming weeks, including exclusive awesomeness for fans.

When you have a regular job, you set your budget by asking what you can afford based on the money you make each month. You ask the question “What can I do with X number of dollars?”

Many freelancers do the same thing. They count their money at the end of each period and figure out how to pay their bills with what’s in their bank account. This is a mistake.

Entrepreneurs are aware of their real-world bottom line, but they don’t plan based on that. Instead, they make financial plans based on what they need to do. They ask the question “What do I need to do to have X dollars by Y date?” It doesn’t take online
accounting degrees to know that much.

This may seem like a subtle difference, but it’s a huge shift in focus. As a freelancer, your potential income is limited only by your willingness to work and your ability to find assignments. You literally decide how much you want to make. If you make as much as is easy, then tailor your budget to that number, you’ll do okay. But you’ll never expand your writing business to make the money you want.

Try this experiment when you have fifteen minutes to spare:

1. Calculate your hard monthly expenses: the expenses you can’t change. These are things like your mortgage, car payment and insurance premiums. Be sure to include taxes for your self-employed writing business.

2. Estimate your monthly soft expenses, called “variables” in business. These change monthly, and you can impact them through planning and discipline. Groceries and utilities are examples of this.

3. Total those two numbers to figure out your monthly expense base.

4. Add to that total any other payments you’d like to incorporate into your “monthly nut,” for example increased retirement deposits, equity payments on your mortgage or a travel savings account.

5. Add a monthly “fun budget” equal to how much you would like to spend each month on yourself and our family.

6. Multiply the total by 110% to account for emergencies and overruns.

7. Compare that amount to how much you make, on average, from your writing. Add in additional income such as a spouse’s salary, rent payments or retirement income.

8. Determine how you’ll make up the difference. This might mean writing more articles for an existing client, bringing in ad revenue on a blog, landing a book deal, or finding a new client.

9. Make your plan for getting the assignments to make your list from step 8 happen (more on that in another post).

The key here is to change your perspective about the income from a writing business. The best entrepreneurs don’t live with the results that happen. They make the results they want. That process begins with a realistic look at what they accomplish their goals. To run your writing as a business, that’s the first step in creating the life you want.

I dare you to take that step, and to comment based on what you discovered.

Thanks for listening.