Tag: writing

Sales Pipeline Software and Waterfalls

How are sales pipeline software and waterfalls connected?

A waterfall is when water flows over the edge of a rock or cliff or some series of vertical drops. The result is a beautiful cascade of water where you hit your sales goal and collect a fat bonus check.

Then you tell your boss you’re taking the rest of the month off to play golf.

They are also connected because I had the pleasure to write about sales pipeline software and waterfalls. That also meant I had to switch between corporate-style martinis and vacation-esque mai-tais to quench my thirst until my deadlines. KIDDING.

It is sort of a productivity challenge to move from one mindset to another, but that’s also what makes content writing so interesting.

If you’re a freelancer, are you able to make fast pivots when deadlines collide?

For the sales pipeline article, I researched what was available and analyzed user reviews, features, and pricing. There are some really great options available and a couple are even totally free.

Although if you want to unlock all the cool features, you should really look at all the pricing options. Most aren’t cost prohibitive.

You need sales pipeline software to bring in the big shark.
Source: The Daily Sales

But if you’re in sales or you manage a sales team, you would benefit from having a solution that gives you a visual sales pipeline and how to get those deals closed.

See all the great details in my article for Selling Signals, 7 Best Sales Pipeline Software for 2021.

The waterfall articles were for the excellent travel blog, Via Travelers. They assigned me a couple of listicles–one for Minnesota waterfalls and one for California waterfalls.

Both states have so many gorgeous ones, it was hard to whittle them down. I really enjoy writing for Via Travelers because travel is something everyone likes to read.

Basically my research goes like this: Google images for waterfalls, say to myself, “Hey, I think this one is pretty,” then figure out where and when the photo was taken.

Even if readers don’t have a trip in mind, the research makes for good inspiration. You’ll see what I mean:

Best Waterfalls in Minnesota to Visit and Best Waterfalls in California: SoCal & NorCal Spots.

I Have a Horrible Personality And People Hate Me When They Meet Me

That’s what I told myself this morning when I didn’t get a client I wanted. It was the only logical explanation as to why I received their email late the previous evening informing me of their “hard decision” to “go in another direction.”

Since no other reason was offered, I permitted my mind to wander the vast desert of doubt — a place I like to call Doubt Desert — to mull over all the valid reasons why my horrible personality must be blamed.

This was not a cold pitch. This meeting was so warm I could fry an egg on it. I had a personal introduction. Okay, so the person who introduced me doesn’t hate my horrible personality. But to be fair, he is a lawyer (haha).

I’m not new at this, nor am I so old I carve words on stone tablets. I’m also an innovative thinker.

I ruminate some more

During the meeting, I brought up all my oodles of experience. I must admit that my experience was not exactly what they were looking for. But all the podcasts to which I subscribe tell me not to let lack of experience stop me. After all, I can speak English and write strings of words down that mean things. Perhaps I falsely deduced that this was good positioning.

Right.

I brought my relevant samples with many of the words in strings that mean things. He oohed and ahhhed as he skimmed them. Asked me if he could keep them.

“Absolutely, I brought them for you.” Because that’s the kind of gal I am. I’m a giver.

But I know my value. I have an hourly rate. Since this was a rush job with some specific needs, I added on another ten. I stated my rate simply. Confidently. He wrote it down with nary a blink.

So far, so good.

Then the Big Guy walked in looking like he hadn’t slept in a week. My nice guy walked out. Shut the door behind him.

Ummm.

“What do you think about this project” He asked in a growl that reminded me of Lou Grant.

“I think it sounds great.” I smiled while the Mary Tyler Moore show opening played in my head.

I’m an experienced woman. I’ve been around. Well, all right, I might not’ve been around, but I’ve been… nearby.

I do that when I get nervous. I have an entire library of silly scenes, montages, music videos and other sundries that my also-me uses to steal my focus. It’s a wonder I haven’t stepped out in front of a bus.

Mr. Grant stared at me like I just served him one grilled cheese with a cockroach on the side.

“Great? What does that mean? You mean great for the consumers? Great for the investors? What exactly do you mean?”

“UhhhhhImeant that consumers and investors alike will benefit from this project as it saves time and money and is poised to be a major player in the e-commerce marketplace.”

I clamped my lips tight together. Didn’t blink, breathe, twirl my hair, check my phone…

I wish I could tell you the above strategy was some Art of War thing. But another thing also-me does is talk a lot so sometimes I have to give her a cup of juice and make her sit in the corner. Talking only to fill in silence is probably not a quality Mr. Grant looks for in a writer. Or human being.

Mr. Grant rubbed under his glasses so hard, I thought he was gouging out his own eyeballs.

“Why do you think people will buy this product?”

I told him why. I told him from the perspective of a mom who needs more hours in her day and as a consumer who now wonders why no one has thought of something so brilliant before.

He looked so tired.

He stood. I stood. We shook hands and he said, “we’ll be in touch,” and walked out and back into the boardroom at the other end of the hall. A room from where, I realized, a lot of yelling was coming.

Product development is high stakes. In that boardroom, sat a couple of guys who had put their personal lives and any wealth on hold hoping for something big. When I say big, I’m not talking Shark Tank big, but billions big.

I left feeling buoyant, high on the entrepreneurial vibrations. I found myself really hoping that my couple thousand words would be the ones that go into a proposal resulting in a shift in the way we think about time and commerce. I’m not surprised a couple of VERY smart post-grads could come up with such an idea. Probably over beers. I bet they still have the cocktail napkin scribbled with the first notes.

So, y’all I’m bummed. I wish I had the Mary Tyler Moore spunk that kept Mr. Grant from firing her. But I’m glad they found a writer who was a better fit for their vision.

And that’s what I put in my thank you note.

7 Quotes From Comedians That Would Make Great First Lines of Books

Thinking of writing a book? The first line is important. The first line sets the mood, theme, style, world and should introduce the main conflict. “Amazing Bonus,” if it foreshadows the end. Above all, the first line should hook an agent, a publisher or two and thousands  millions of readers.

Sounds easy.

Image courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons by Reuben Ingber, Some Rights Reserved.
Image courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons by Reuben Ingber, Some Rights Reserved.

To get you started, here are some plagiarized borrowed lines from people that are already famous. I think these would make perfect openings. The famous won’t mind. Probably (<~Not legal advice). Just think of the possibilities…

Kevin Hart

I used to think guns were loud until I dropped the damn shampoo in the shower.

Laura Kightlinger

I have a rule, and that is to never look at somebody’s face while we’re having sex; because, number one, what if I know the guy?

Image via FlickR Creative Commons by Veronica Belmont, Some Rights Reserved.
Image via Flickr Creative Commons by Veronica Belmont, Some Rights Reserved.

Louis CK

I know it’s not popular to say, but I hate balloons.

Betty White

Get at least eight hours of beauty sleep. Nine, if you’re ugly.

Redd Fox

I feel sorry for people who don’t drink or do drugs. Because someday they’re going to be in a hospital bed, dying, and they won’t know why.

via Flickr Creative Commons by Carla de Souza Campos, Some Rights Reserved.
via Flickr Creative Commons by Carla de Souza Campos, Some Rights Reserved.

More Laura Kightlinger

I can’t think of anything worse after a night of drinking than waking up next to someone and not being able to remember their name, or how you met, or why they’re dead.

Dane Cook

When I said I wanted to be a comedian, they all laughed at me. Well, no one’s laughing now.

I’m Crying Here

My friend told me she never cries. She simply didn’t feel sadness much and never had any real reason to cry.

Either she is lying or she is painfully un-self-aware. You can’t say, “boo,” to her without making her break-down. I’ve never seen someone cry so much as she does.

Except for me.

I cry all the time. Ten things that made me cry last week:

  1. Simone Biles
  2. Ruth 1:16
  3. A new book on home decorating
  4. Joe Strummer’s rendition of Bob Marley’s Redemption Song
  5. My husband and I got into an argument one morning and he came home from work early to be the first to apologize.
  6. A dear friend sent me a very sweet text
  7. A scene I wrote
  8. A Facebook Memory of a video of my son at a swim lesson when he was three
  9. A video about overcoming feelings of insignificance
  10. I felt lonely

Those are very specific examples that I can remember. There are also some general stuff that turns on the waterworks for me anytime, all the time. A note: to me crying is a spectrum, ranging from tearing up to total meltdown. Not everything reduces me to a shaking, leaking shell of a woman, but the following can be a challenge…

The Star Spangled Banner

I can’t sing it. When the world gasped and pointed at Gabby Douglas during her team’s medal ceremony because she didn’t belt out the words or place her hand over her heart, I almost cried for her. It would take everything I had not to ugly-cry while receiving an Olympic medal. I don’t know if I could even stand. Would it be un-patriotic for me to collapse in a snotty puddle while the national anthem played and men and women in military service saluted?

I always have to pretend the sun is in my eyes at the start of baseball games. I know, pathetic.

Whenever Anyone Else Cries

Please don’t cry in my presence. If you cry, I have to cry. I carry little packets of tissues wherever I go. If you start to cry, I’ll hand you a Kleenex and we will have a good cry together. I have cried with friends and strangers. Once, with a WWII POW when he told me how many of his buddies have passed during and since that war and how hard they fought and how proud they were to do it.

Books

Not many books make me cry, but when they do, roll up your pants legs. Here comes the flood. Year of Wonders: A Novel of the Plague and The Border of Paradise: A Novel both made me cry buckets, but there were others. My new decorating book, The Nesting Place: It Doesn’t Have to Be Perfect to Be Beautiful made me cry. My home doesn’t have to perfect to be beautiful?? Pass a tissue.

Music

This is a weird thing for even me to handle. Music makes me cry. It tickles my brain. Any kind of music will do it. I have to try not to cry. This can make me look a little looney in public. If I’m at home and the Yeah, Yeah, Yeah’s Fever To Tell makes me cry, then I’ll let it all out. Maybe my eyeballs need washing.

YouTube

So there’re a lot of social experiments where people are filmed doing the right thing. Like this one of an African man who receives a racist message on social media and asks strangers if they would interpret it for him. Or this one, where young people are asked to interview for a thankless job (the one their moms do). CRYING.

Yoga

I don’t know why. Maybe it’s all the breathing. I just pretend I put too much downward in my dog.

Movies

Of course. What am I? A monster?

 

Now, to be sure, all this boo-hoo-ing takes place between my normal emotions, like crying at normal things, general well-being and happiness, feelings of gratitude (when I remember I’m not homeless and, dear God, what they must cry about), love for my family and friends and laughing at funny things.

Humans are the only animals that can cry from feelings. Crying makes us feel better and it may help us to connect with others. I think that’s good, don’t you? Tears make us human.

Courtesy of Flickr, Machiel van Zanten
Courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons, Machiel van Zanten

Which makes me cry.

 

 

How To Save A Life

You’ve probably heard this one before: an old man saw a boy flinging starfish from where they were stranded on the beach back into the ocean so they could live. The old man asked the boy why he was wasting his time because the beach was miles long and full of stranded starfish. What difference does it make for the boy to take the time to do it?

The boy looks at the starfish in his hand and replies, “It makes a difference to this one,” and throws it into the surf.

Know it?

YES YOU DO. Everyone knows this story.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
FlickR Creative Commons by Andrewrendell

 

So, I read a lot of other writers’ blogs and from time to time, a topic comes that I read with great interest. The articles usually start along the lines of, “One question I get asked over and over again as a writer is why do I write?”

Something I need to say here is that no one has ever asked me that question. Mainly, I hear, “What do you write?” Or better yet, “Still?” Then I answer and my non-writerly friends’ eyes drift over to the buffet. I think I need to work on my, “elevator pitch.”

Anyhoo, the question of why writers write interests me because I think we should all ask ourselves why we pursue the things we do. We need a sense of purpose and urgency. Else, if we think no one is reading, watching or caring, we would stop.

That might be bad.

Yes, you must read my novel about a songwriter in love with two men who are best friends, one even married to her own best friend, or your life is in great peril. You’ve been warned.

What in God’s name are you talking about, Jen? And be quick about it, because they’re running out of shrimp on the buffet. I can see it from here.

 

A Show About Nothing

The year was 1996. One of the funniest Seinfeld episodes aired on a cool October evening. The episode was called, “A Difficult Patient.” Elaine saw her doctor for a rash on her arms. But while left alone in the examination room, she peeks at her chart and sees that she’s considered a difficult patient. The doctor returns to the exam room and chides Elaine for looking at her own chart. He fake erases the comment and dismisses her rash as nothing to worry about. Elaine obsesses. Decides she can’t see her doc anymore and goes for a second opinion. The new doc opens her file and shuts it quickly with an exhale. “Your rash doesn’t look serious,” he says as he writes something else on her chart and walks out.

Meanwhile, she scratches her way through the episode unrelieved and even ropes Kramer into stealing her chart so it won’t follow her around for the rest of her life.

Yeah, no. Kramer as Dr. Van Nostrum from The Hoffer-Mandale Clinic in Belgium, The Netherlands, doesn’t get her chart back.

Funny? As all get-out.
Life saving? Yes.
I don’t get it.
I’ll explain it to you.
Thank you.

 

Mammograms Can Be Funny

A woman in my life who is as close to me as as anyone can be was blowing off her mammogram. For, like years. Her doctor finally got firm with her and told her to stop avoiding her mammogram. She instantly thought of, “A Difficult Patient,” made a typical jokey Seinfeld reference, then made her appointment last month.

She’s having surgery this week because she has breast cancer.

Thank you, Seinfeld writer, Jennifer Crittenden. You just played a part in saving my mother’s life. I’m glad you didn’t stop.

For you, Gentle Mood Swinger, keep flinging starfish.

How To Peddle Porn on Pinterest Without Really Trying

On Friday The Thirteenth, I received an email from Pinterest at 1:18 in the AM. Pinterest removed one of my pins because it “went against,” their policies on sexually explicit or pornographic content.

I deleted it thinking it was a phishing attempt.

Click here to see more information, then call this phone number and have your credit card and bank account numbers available whilst we connect you to someone with an accent thick enough to hold a spoon upright.

 

Pinterest Worldwide HQ
Pinterest Worldwide HQ

But later when I tried to access my Pinterest account (I believe to find what might could be dinner later), I saw a similar message. This time, a warning was added:

Please review all of your pins and boards for sexually explicit images and remove them immediately.

I’m not sure what the worst is that can happen in this scenario. Pinterest suspension? Public ridicule? Jail time?

I fetched the original email from my email provider provided trash-can.

The deleted image was from my California board. Love California. Love everything about it. Want to be California when I grow up. I base stories there in little made up towns up and down the seaside, where no one pays taxes or sits in traffic for hours on end.

The Pinterest po-po gave me the link to the offensive pin. Like I’m going to fall for that and click on it! Double jeopardy much, PINTEREST??

I know my rights.

I can tell the link contains content about the most majestically (sic) trees in the world.

That’s how you know you’ve been punked by someone in a sweaty shirt in a sweaty internet cafe with a God Knows What language to English dictionary opened next to him, drinking shot after shot of some kind of shitty local moonshine, creating links from majestically (sic) trees to pine-on-pecan porn. “Bistore!” He shouts and then hits…PIN IT.

His mayhem is shared and I’m the one in trouble.

Innocent me sees an image of a tree and thinks, how nice, and pins it to my California board. Y’all, I don’t even remember doing this.

Now, after seeing the warning, I feel I can’t ignore it. I don’t even want to see what happens if I ignore it. I go through all the pins.

I have almost 2000 pins.

I was pretty diligent on the first ten, reviewing each image, then clicking to see where it lead. Then I got bored. On the last 1,900, I just scanned for the f-word.

I had more f-words in my pins than I care to admit. But now they are all deleted in accordance with the Pinterest Scriptures. I felt pretty clean and good about myself until I remembered some fitness stuff I’d pinned. So I looked at those more closely.

Many, many ass-shots. Women in panties or hot pants leaning over their kitchen counters and balcony railings, as one does. I got rid of those too.

 

Stop! In the Name of Love

I feel like the sheriff will knock on my door any minute with a, “mind if I poke around, ma’am?” and he will push open the door without waiting for my answer, clutching a copy of the state’s obscenity law.

“Excuse me,” I say, hitching up my yoga pants. “But I’m in the middle of a squat challenge.”

The sheriff peers over my shoulder at my laptop.

“I see that. You don’t mind if my deputy and I help a little filly with her work-out.”

Woo-Hoooo! He and his deputy tear off their breakaway brown, work trousers and fling their mirrored aviators across the room.

 

The Pinterest Blacklist

Obviously, I’m on some kind of list. Some kind of offensive pinners’ list. I should lay low until there’s turnover at Pinterest and the new people forget to check The List.

“What list?” Someone will ask.
“I dunno. We used to check The List every morning. I never knew why. The person in charge of it has retired.”
“It must not have been important. Pitch it.”

That’s right, Pinterest. We’ll just forget the whole thing. Shh. Sleepy time now.

Are You There Judy? It’s Me, Jen.

With summer almost upon us, I must prepare for the season by compiling my TBR list. I like to keep books in every room of my house, in each bag or purse, in the cars and next to most of my appliances. This way, if I ever have a moment where my eyes are not supposed to be on something else, like children or the stove, I can scan the immediate area for a book and squeeze off a scene or chapter before something else needs my attention. I get quite a lot of reading done this way.

Of course, nothing beats a long, leisurely read, but I only get those on birthdays and anniversaries. Any other day and I’m too laden with guilt to enjoy what I’m reading. If I wait until night, I’m lucky to get one cheek under the sheet before I’m dead to the world.

Shhh, I'm trying to sleep.
Shhh, I’m trying to sleep.

I asked my friends for suggestions for the TBR pile. Boy, there are some good ones:

All the Light We Cannot See

Bossypants

The Good Lord Bird

The Boys in the Boat: Nine Americans and Their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936 Berlin Olympics

I just mailed this one to mom: The Midnight Assassin: Panic, Scandal, and the Hunt for America’s First Serial Killer

It looked so chilling I also sent along this blanket:

 

Brrr. My mom and I love anything about serial killers!

Then there’s this terrific list from Publishers Weekly.

I think the TBR mountain is coming along nicely.

One of my friends asked me what was my favorite summer read. That’s easy.

Look at the cover! A beach, waves, straw hats. Adirondack chairs! That’s how you know you have a summer read winner. Can’t go wrong with a cover of Adirondack chairs.

I have to read this book every summer. It’s about two friends who grow up together. One is from a wealthy family and one is from a working class family. IT’S SO GOOD. And chock full of WTF moments like when the girls discover their “power,” buzzing from between their legs or how Caitlin doesn’t bathe for an entire summer. Crazy. But it’s so good that you don’t even skip a beat to think about how weird that is until the end when your endorphins are pumping and you look up to focus on the wall across the room and then you think, “did Caitlin really just make out with the movie star renting down the street from her after he paid her for babysitting his kids while he took his movie star wife out to dinner?”

Yes. Yes, she did. Caitlin’s the rich one.

Judy Blume is my favorite all-time writer. From Super-Fudge to Wifey, I’ve read ’em all. I’ve learned a lot about life and, ahem, other things from reading her books. Forever immediately comes to mind.

Did you know that maxi pads used to come with little belts that you wore around your waist? That was way before my time. But, weird, right? Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret was all about it.

Sadly, Ms. Blume (my favorite all-time writer) is coming to my town and I didn’t hear about it until it was too late. All the tickets sold in hours. I wish she would bottle her writing mojo and send it to me as an apology for not personally reaching out to her number one fan (me) regarding her visit to my city.

Perhaps, I could find her hotel. This is a small city. There are only about half a dozen I’d need to steal a maid’s uniform for call. Then I would just simply camp out in the lobby and wait for her to come down. I know what she looks like because I have pictures of her wallpapered all over one wall of my office. I have even attached my face on  her body on some of them so it looks like we are one person. So cute. Try it. It’s one of my Pinterest Boards. Then we could have coffee together and talk like the old friends I think we are. If she doesn’t want to do that, then I’ll have coffee and talk to her through the top of the trunk of my car.

KIDDING.

Totally kidding. Would. Not. Do. That.

So…where were we?

Yes. Send me your reading suggestions. Thanks, that’d be great.

I Am Afraid to Fail And I Keep Writing

Notice there is no, “but,” in this post’s title. I’ve put myself on an attitude diet and reduced my, “but.” I’ve replaced it with pure, “and.”

I decided to try this diet after reading an article by Sarah Calendar on Writer Unboxed:

There is something empowering and freeing in using and in place of but, which I suppose makes sense. But is a word that limits someone or something. And is a word that increases someone or something. These conjunctions-junctions really do have important functions.

The idea that we are not solely one thing or another was a, “whoa,” moment for me.

Try it:

I’m an introvert and I like to entertain in my home.

I’m trying to traditionally publish and I know it’s hard.

I like to play the piano and I need to practice more.

I want to learn to play Redemption Song by Bob Marley on my guitar and I need to find the music.

My goals and motivation sharpen way the hell up when I do this. I even accidentally created the first step to accomplishing my goals in two of these examples.

 

Reading and Writing The, “And”

Do you like characters that are complicated, flakey and don’t always know what to do? I always have. Though we are in an age where authors are told readers want strong female characters. Yes. Certainly.

But (oops, my but gettin’ big).

I like characters that mess up because of who they are and not in spite of themselves. Now, I know, like you know, that some characters in some bestsellers are TSTL (too stupid to live). I won’t list them, but you feel free to in the comments. Hee.

But (again) what if you read about a songwriter who is divorced from a cheating husband and loves two men? Is such a conflict even possible?

What about a man who’s trying to save his marriage and loves his best friend’s fiancee?

Whaaaaat?

Would their conflicts resonate with you? Do you think you might feel all the betrayal and redemption these characters do? Could they possibly become more human to you? Would the promise of a character arc from, “I thought I was right,” to “Now, I know I’m right,” appeal to you?

Or would you find it boring?

Tony Soprano was a good provider to his family and he was a murderer.
Jack Bauer fought for justice and acted unethically.

Dana Scully is a skeptic and she searches for the truth.

These are characters that came to life for us. We may not agree or support all of their decisions but we will never forget them.

 

Become Instantly Fascinating

Think of people in your life and throughout history with personas that contrasted with their actions or their beliefs. Make statements about them that brings their humanity to the surface.

Then create statements for yourself and see where the, “and,” takes you. You are more than you think you are. You’re pretty fascinating, if you ask me.

While I’m afraid that I am wasting my time—the precious moments I’ve been given on this earth—by writing What The Heart Wants and I may fall in front of people whose opinions matter to me, I keep trying everyday to make it the best it can be because I am human—conflicted and flawed. I am afraid to fail and I keep writing.