My people and projects, 1993-present

I began writing professionally in 1993, when one of my professors asked me to write a short story with accompanying test questions for now-defunct publisher Millikin. The same year, I found work editing for a medical textbook publisher then doing business under the name Mosby Times-Mirror (now it's called Elsevier). Those two first gigs taught me everything I needed to know about freelancing. Writing the short story was bliss, but it never paid, and last I heard, my prof was trying to sue them for her own payment out of the deal. Mosby, on the other hand, was good, fairly lucrative, steady work. It just wasn't as fun.

For the past 16 years, I've been working hard to line up the perfect triumvirate of decent pay, good people, and enjoyment in my projects, with notable success. While pitching and writing one-off articles is a good way to keep up a steady supply of adrenaline, I favor established relationships with editors for regular assignments, or long-term, meaty projects.

Two of my favorite editors are John Marshall of the Seattle P-I, for whom I wrote author interviews until the P-I ceased print publication, and Karen Reed-Mathee at Seattle Woman. There's also Shelly Meyer, who edits Lewis & Clark College's alumni mag and is the single most exacting editor I've ever know. (She and I used to work together in the development trenches at the St. Louis Science Center.)

I'm currently writing for Nintendo, a project I'm not allowed to discuss, except to say it's unique, challenging, and yeah, lots of fun. Other long-term, meaty projects I've enjoyed include writing text for an informal science exhibit called Cyberville for the St. Louis Science Center and a corporate history of heavy marine construction firm General Construction.

For Cyberville, I researched the history of information technology and wrote text to accompany 44 interactive exhibits, from LEGO robots to virtual fish. We included a walk of fame with stars for Steve Jobs and Bill Gates. It was the perfect gig for a pop-culture research geek like me.

Last year I became zealous in my pursuit of General Construction's story, which spans 100 years and includes work on major dams and bridges throughout the West. That company is full of interesting stories, but my favorite is the saga of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge. General helped set the piers for the original "Galloping Gertie" in 1938, a suspension bridge with a flawed design, as witnessed every year by countless engineering students watching historic film footage. But General built the piers--the only part of the bridge left standing when it failed. They were so strong, the replacement bridge was set atop them in 1950. The company and its people had established such an incredible reputation that when it came time to build a companion bridge across the notorious Narrows in the early 2000s, General Construction was again brought in.

The new and the old. Courtesy WSDOT.

Another winner was Premera BlueCross, for which I wrote member how-to guides and a wellness guide. The people at Premera were a treat to work with, and I felt as if all the materials I wrote would be put to good use helping people navigate their health-care plan and take charge of their own health.

It hasn't been for lack of work that I've at times left the freelance life behind in favor of full-time employment. In the 1990s I did business in Missouri as Modern*Scribe, but I was wooed by a love for teaching into graduate school and then a tenure-track position at Pierce College. I never stopped freelancing on the side and during summer breaks, and when it became clear that a community college career wasn't for me long-term, it was to the freelance life that I returned.

Except for one year full-time at Moss Adams, and the three years I spent at Pierce, I've been freelancing steadily since 1997. Sometimes, a client lures me in (see how happy I make them?) for a more regular arrangement, such as my nine months at the helm as editor of Fishermen's News (24 hours per week with benefits) and last year, when Crosscut.com's editor Chuck Taylor hired me as his half-time deputy editor. The Crosscut staff and I had clicked instantly, so I was thrilled to find I'd beat some pretty stiff competition for the job.

What's great about editing is that it is a lot like teaching, except the writing is usually of a higher calibre (apologies to all my former students), and best of all, I don't have to give anyone a grade.

I loved my job and my crew at Crosscut, and the plan was to bring me on full-time. By fall I told Chuck I was ready to commit to it, and he was hoping it would be feasible by the first of the year. Then he and the others were laid off. I was kept on, hours and pay reduced for a few months and then restored. It was hard.

Just as I'd drummed up a nice smattering of freelance work again, I was recruited to work on a game for Nintendo. It seemed like the kind of thing one shouldn't pass up. It's contract work, however, and ends this summer. Once I finish that and the General Construction book (which has increased in word count by 10,000 words), I'll be looking for the next big thing. I'm not blanketing the town with my resume; I don't think that's a very good approach for anyone. But I am looking for a position I can really throw myself into, as I'm known to do.

Comments

[Lisa Hickey]

Hello there!
I love the way blogs and other facets of social media allow people to discover a part of someone that they otherwise never would have known. Thanks for sharing your story! And interesting, the little part about the Tacoma Narrows bridge. I remember seeing it at one of those little crank movie machines in front of a souvenir shop. There's a guy in the foreground who kind of runs and dives. Always wonder if he made it.
Best of luck with Nintendo and beyond.
Lisa

[Lisa Albers]

Lisa,

Thanks for your comments. I really appreciate your interaction here, on Facebook, and on Twitter. I miss your poetry, though. Maybe we can get back into the habit of swapping drafts.

By the way, the guy in the Narrows Bridge collapse movie did survive.