I sometimes think my life would be easier if there was just one kind of writing that I enjoyed doing. If all I loved was copywriting, I could focus on polishing my marketing technique. If fiction was the all-powerful muse, I could immerse myself in prose and telling great stories. Poetry, word-play, essays, articles, websites … there are so MANY different kinds of writing that I enjoy.

Sometimes nothing will do but to write non-fiction. Hard, edgy facts, temptingly spun to just the angle I want the reader to see. There are times when I want to speak in my own voice and just chat, like I’m doing now. Then there are other times when fiction calls, and I want to concentrate on a story–plots, characters, dialogue, with all the fun of seeing what happens.

For some writers, of course, this is not a problem. They do one type of writing, and do it very well, so they have no need to branch out. A person who has been writing ad copy for twenty years can probably resist the lure of novel-writing. A successful novelist probably doesn’t feel the urge to bang out a marketing campaign. Sure, they may dabble. Novelists adapt their stories into screenplays. Copywriters write articles for trade publications. Poets dig down to produce the occasional short story … but many writers know what they like to write, and they stick to it.

Some of us, though (cough), want to do it all. So, what’s a writer to do? How can a writer deal with being pulled by different muses–fiction and non-fiction–without being torn apart?

In some ways, this is easy … the point is to WRITE, no matter what you are writing.

Writing is like a muscle that needs to be exercised. It’s a skill that needs to be honed. A pot that needs to keep simmering. If you let it get flabby, dull, and cold, it’s just going to be that much harder the next time you sit down to write. You are better off writing descriptions for catalogs or letters to old friends than writing nothing at all. Just … Write. It doesn’t matter what.

Sometimes the Market determines what you write.

If you are between novels, you can write and sell a few short stories, or some articles while you wait to hear back from your publisher. If you are a freelancer facing a lull in paying clients, this is the perfect time to work on that novel. If an editor calls and offers you a contract for a series of articles–even if articles aren’t what you normally do–you should consider it. Don’t forget, writing is not just a hobby or vocation (though it can be those things)–it is also a profession. You should follow your heart and preferences as much as you can, but sometimes you just need to go where the money is.

Is it possible to be a fabulous writer without focusing on one kind of writing?

I think absolutely yes. Far from believing that dabbling in a wide range of writing styles makes me weaker, my technique diluted, I think that it gives me an ever-growing list of skills to fall back on. Knowing how to pace a story makes my ad copy better. Understanding basic marketing techniques makes my query letters stronger. Enjoying the word play of a good poem heightens my appreciation of finding just the right word when I’m writing anything else. Just like a diet of one kind of food is unhealthy (and boring), it’s good to mix things.

A change is as good as a rest.

So, you’ve been slogging on your novel for weeks, concentrating on character development, making sure your scenes are successfully doing whatever they need to do, and frankly, you’re a little tired. The last thing you want to do this morning is to look at your computer keyboard … But, wait! Somebody wants you to write their new webpage. Something new! Something different! Suddenly, you feel inspired. Your fingers fly over the keys, and you produce new copy for them in record time … and, even better, when you look back at your novel? It doesn’t feel like slogging anymore.

Just like a vacation, or pausing for a long walk–sometimes, just doing something else for a while is all we need to reinvigorate ourselves and our writing.

You can use your desire for other types of writing as incentive.

Maybe this only works for me because I am a fiction addict. I love stories. I love to follow a character through the course of a book (or better, a series) until I feel like they’re old friends. Curling up with a new book by a favorite author is one of my all-time favorite ways to spend a Saturday afternoon–or any afternoon. But, I find that I get so caught up in reading about other people’s characters, I sometimes lose the incentive to focus on my own. So, I’ll put myself on a fiction diet–no reading fiction allowed until I’ve worked on my book. It might seem crazy, but it works, because the need in my blood for plot, character, clues, layers–all the things that make a good story–will ultimately drive me to sit in front of the computer. If my own fiction is all I can get, I am so there.

Similarly, if I’ve been neglecting my blogs … I stop reading other people’s. No blogs, no posts, no updates, no thoughts on the writing industry … so, obviously, I need to write my own.

Balance is never a bad thing.

And, anyway, whoever said that you could only do one? Keeping a healthy balance of gifts, skills, talents, and interests are what make us balanced people. Sure, if you are a prodigy with an enormous gift, you need to focus on that to exclusion of other things, practicing your violin until all hours, but falling behind in biology class. But, with the exception of some rare, truly gifted people … most of us have a variety of normal-sized talents instead of one big one, and it’s better to keep them all in shape. If you love writing fiction and non-fiction, then darn it, write both. Why not?

Personally, I find I need a balance of both–for reading and for writing. Even with television–I watch scripted shows for the stories, but also watch news and documentaries for the factual stuff. If I start getting too much of one, I feel unbalanced, just as if I suddenly ate nothing but sweets … or stopped eating them altogether. I’m happier with a mix. I find the urge to write fiction is strongest when I’m sitting at my desk at my day job, trapped without access to TV or a novel. (Awkward, of course, because that’s when I need to be doing the work they pay me for.) When I’m home watching television or sitting with a book, I find that I want to write blog posts or marketing copy. I need a mix to keep myself happy.

You are only limited by yourself.

Why limit myself? The better I write, the better it is for everyone–me, my readers, and the people who pay me. It doesn’t hurt to have preferences, and a natural bent for a specific style or technique should be encouraged … but who says a violinist can’t branch out to the cello once in a while? Or that a baker can’t get the urge to make a pot of soup for a change? Just because you make your living as a copywriter doesn’t mean you can’t write short stories, too. And if you’ve got a novel you’re working on, why not do some freelancing, too?

Because–limiting your writing because you think you should? That’s like any other diet … it’s going to get very boring very quickly. Variety is the spice of (writing) life!

I got this direct mail piece the other day, and was kind of appalled at how sneaky it was.

Mind you, I love creative direct mails. It’s a tough market, and if you have something to sell, you need to be creative.

This one, though? A DVD in a nice case, a “yours to keep!” so-called collectible coin (golly, for me?), two separate return envelopes, and a confusing set of instructions.

Picture it: I just came home from a long day, am tired, just want to flip through my mail and start thinking about what to do for supper, and instead I’m trying to figure out why these people are sending me a DVD I didn’t order.

First, I had to find the letter. This long sheet of paper has a return envelope and instructions on the outside, with this letter folded onto the inside … but since it was behind/inside/attached to the envelope, it took me at least two passes through the pieces in the envelope to find the thing.

The letter starts off, “You must be wondering why you’ve received the enclosed DVD, entitled ‘How the Earth was Made.’ the reason is simple, please let me explain…“  Well, they got that part right because that was exactly what I was wondering.

It then goes into a lengthy explanation about how the Smithsonian Institution is creating a “landmark” collection of DVDs and how I am so, so lucky to be given the chance to “see, hear, feel and appreciate what the Chronicles Series is all about.”  It explains how I can “keep it with no obligation as a gift.” Okay, fine, whatever. I’ve subscribed to Smithsonian Magazine since the 1980s so I am legitimately on their mailing list. I’ve gotten Very Special Offers from them before, just … never one like this.

Because here’s what bugs me. Well, really, there are several things, but this is the big one.

I’ve read this thing several times, and I still swear it’s contradicting itself.

It says:

“If you don’t wish to participate in the series you may return the DVD along with your Member Reply Form in the white postage-paid Merchandise Return Envelope attached to this letter… Because you didn’t ask for this special DVD, you don’t have to participate or send it back and you can consider it a gift.”

Um, call me crazy, but why are they both asking me to send back the unwanted DVD and also telling me that I can keep it? If I’m supposed to feel empowered by having all these options, it’s not working. I just feel confused. Am I particularly slow today? Am I lightheaded from hunger because I’m still trying to get past the pile of mail and to the kitchen?

The actual order form doesn’t help. It’s got two check boxes, one for “Yes, please, sign me up” one for “No, I’m returning the DVD, please don’t send any more,” AND then there’s small print telling me I can just keep it without participating. Huh?

Now, as a consumer, I’m not only confused at this point, but I’m frustrated. Confused, frustrated, hungry, and getting annoyed.

Seriously–it’s a direct mail piece, something I did not request, so legally I am under no obligation … so why are they (1) making it so complicated and (2) making a big deal about how I should return the DVD if I don’t want it and yet still decide to return it (as opposed to not wanting it and just throwing it away)?

You think I’m kidding?

Talk about labor-intensive. If I am feeling so inclined as to return this lovely little DVD I never asked to be saddled with, I’ve got this cute little pictogram explanation of exactly what I am required to do to return it. 1. Detach the envelope, 2. remove the DVD from its case, and 3. mail it back–but it comes with the warning that, “Due to postal changes DO NOT return the plastic DVD case. You may keep, recycle, or discard it.” (Well, that’s lucky.)

How is putting your Business-Reply permit limitations on the consumer a good idea? Some people love nothing better than wasting as much of that as possible–they stuff BREs with cardboard, send back blank blow-in cards, anything they can think of because they’re so frustrated with direct mails and subscription cards. If I were that kind of person, telling me that you–who have already made me confused and frustrated–will get in trouble if I send back the entire case is frankly just asking for trouble.

But, let’s go back to that whole Do I or Do I Not Return the DVD issue which I’m STILL not clear on. What on God’s green earth does my sending back the unwanted DVD in a paper envelope do for any of us? You can say what you want about the post office, but that thing is going to get stomped on. It’s not like it’s going to return intact. In fact, the Smithsonian is going to end up paying fairly substantial return-mail postage for me to send back a DVD that I didn’t ask for and that they’re going to have to just toss in the garbage.

As I see it, there should be THREE possiblities at this point–1. Yes, I love this video, enroll me, and keep them coming. 2. I didn’t like this particular DVD, and am returning it, but would like to see more, or 3. Who are you and why are you bothering me, this is all garbage.

Except, none of the verbiage in the letter or on the order form acknowledges option #2 at all–which, to my mind, is the only reason you would WANT someone to send back the DVD if they’re not interested.

Believe me, the cheap “Collector’s Series” collectible coin with the picture of the Smithsonian castle is NOT enough to counter-balance the things wrong with this direct mail.

No matter how wonderful the DVD is … I haven’t watched it, and don’t really plan to … the Smithsonian just spent a small fortune to assemble and mail this crappy direct mail. There’s the special, outer envelope, the DVD in its snazzy case, a non-postage-paid return envelope, a postage-paid return envelope, (and, why two envelopes?) an insert reiterating the instructions for returning the DVD that I apparently don’t need to return at all, the letter, the order form, plus the coin. That’s a lot of stuff to get into one envelope, and not really light on the postage, either. Not to mention that the letter/order form/BRE combination was likely a custom paper order.

And, after putting all this money into the direct mail, they end up with a presentation that’s confusing and complicated … I’m still waiting for a reason as to why I should bother sending the DVD back at all. The letter with an explanation was buried, folded in amongst all the other things, so that I was already frustrated by the time I found it.

Folks, here are some of the things you need to remember about direct mails.

• Get people to open the envelope–which this one, I admit, did
• Keep things simple. Don’t make your potential customers hunt for what you want them to do.
• Give them as much information as you want, but make it accessible.
• For heaven’s sake, don’t give out mixed signals. If you want the DVD back, say so, but don’t tell me that I CAN send it back but that I can also keep it for no obligation. Which one am I supposed to do so that I can sleep at night?
• Remember that customers–much as we love them–can be stupid. If you make things too complicated for them, they get upset, like a 4-year old trying to fit together a jigsaw puzzle.
• Bonus gifts are nice and catchy–the “collector’s coin” idea had potential, but the actual coin is kind of cheesy. That can still be okay, if it’s a one-shot, get-attention deal. Then you could just give it to your child to play Bank with, but no, the sales letter makes a point of telling me that I’ll get more coins with the other videos, “until my coin collection is complete.” Gee, there’s incentive, because I really want more of these things.
• Don’t make people WORK for what you want them to do. The harder you make it to respond to your mailing, the fewer people are going to respond. Consumers may enjoy actively checking off their preferences in boxes and sticking stickers on the right form, but make it clear! Make it fun! Don’t make it feel like work.

Oh yes, and why did I call this sneaky at the beginning? Because, since the instructions are unclear, and the proper response if you don’t want it is perplexing, my guess is that some people are going to get this mailing, with the DVD right there in their hand, and just pay the $12.95 because they don’t want to get into trouble. Not something you’d expect from a classy organization like the Smithsonian Museum.

But then, there’s more small print to this mailing, saying “This program is being administered under a licensing arrangement by TN Marketing LLC, a for-profit company.” Maybe I’m not the only one to question their practices, and perhaps the Smithsonian should have done some more research?

It’s so easy to get caught up in the technological marvels of the 21st century. High-speed internet access and wi-fi at every corner. Cordless telephones and cellphones to keep in touch everywhere we go. Computers and email have far eclipsed fax machines and typewriters. We can bring our entire music collection with us in our pockets so we always have something to listen to, and more and more we can bring our libraries as well. Even cooking is high-speed, with microwaves and prepared convenience foods.

Still … there are lessons to be learned.

Let’s wax nostalgic for a moment, shall we? Let’s all think of those golden days of yore when people lounged on their front porches drinking lemonade; when children played ball in the street. Let’s remember a time when…

• We put letters in the mail and were happy to wait one or two weeks before we got a response.
• We did not expect answers to be instantaneous.
• We were happy visiting the library for books to read or to reference.
• We regularly met with our friends in person, and even dropped into each others’ houses regularly.
• We understood that travel could be an adventure to be savored, not a hassle to be rushed through.
• We wrote long, thoughtful, descriptive letters to friends, family, and even near-strangers, just as a way of keeping in touch and sharing our lives.
• We wrote them by hand, usually in ink, while sitting at a desk and relishing the feel of the pen in our hand and the texture of the paper under the nib. (Oh, and we had the penmanship to match.)
• We had telephones that stayed in one place, so that we couldn’t walk all over the house while on a call–instead, we stayed in one place and focused on the conversation.
• We took the time to do things well and thoroughly, without worrying about tight deadlines or the need to get on to the next thing.
• We understood that the world was wide and relished the communities we built close to home.
• We went to school to learn to think, not just to get passing grades, and then we took that ability to think to create the world we wanted to live in.

It’s easy to get so caught up in the urgent forward movement of progress. The desire to discover the “next new thing,” and to play with all the new gadgets is tempting to say the least. Because, let’s admit it, they’re fun.

As much as I always wanted to go back and really see what history was like, I would not want to give up any of my modern conveniences. I love email and twitter to connecting to my friends. I can’t imagine life without internet access any more than I could imagine not having light (or air conditioning). And I really, really like my indoor plumbing, thank you.

It’s important, though, to remember how far we’ve come. To look back to acknowledge the progress we’ve made, the changes that have occured … and to note the little grace notes of life that may have been drowned out in technology’s hum.

Even with my appreciation for the past, I wouldn’t want to live there. It was hot without air conditioning, and I’m not fond of growing my own food. But, still, some things were valuable, and some skills should be saved. I cook from scratch, and bake my own bread. I spin yarn and knit it into sweaters and socks. I like these things but I’m not going to give up my jeans or the convenience of a grocery store.

And the internet. I say we definitely keep that. Or how would you leave me comments?

It’s so easy to tell writers that words are tools and it’s good to have as many in the toolbox as possible. Mixing and matching words to form the perfect sentence, after all, is what writers DO.

But what if your vocabulary is actually getting in your way?

Too Many Choices

First, if you know two dozen ways to describe “happy,” how will you choose the one to use? Joyful? Tickled? Gay? Ecstatic? Merry? Pleased? Glad? Or should you just stick with Happy? These kinds of decisions are just going to slow down the writing process.

Too Confusing

It’s a sad statement on education in this degenerate age, but people just aren’t as familiar with the multitude of words as they used to be. (I’m not talking about YOU; I’m talking about the people who see your copy on websites or sales pieces.) If you have to write to the lowest common denominator and throw out a word like Exemplary or Premiere, you’re just going to confuse people. You’re better off sticking with plain vanilla words with as few syllables as possible.

Too High-Falutin’

Not everyone has your fancy education. (You graduated from high school, right?) You don’t want to go rubbing those elitist SAT words in people’s noses. It will just make them angry. Think to yourself, “Would a two-year old understand this?” and write accordingly.

Too Expensive

These are difficult times, budgets are tight. Why use a five-dollar word when a one-dollar word would work just as well?

Ahem.

Okay, so this may have been a little extreme. Nobody pays five dollars for a word, anymore.

No, seriously … I don’t believe in “dumbing-down” my writing. I assume anyone reading my … well, reading anything, really … has a reasonable grasp of the English language. Will they have the vocabulary of an English professor? Probably not, but that doesn’t mean they speak like an 8-year old, either. (In fact, eight year-olds are extraordinarily bright and absorb vocabulary like sponges.)

There is a fine line, though, between writing intelligent copy that uses the perfect word to describe the joy a customer will feel when they hold the exciting new product you’re selling in their hand, and copy that uses the word “happy” because the writer either didn’t know any alternatives, or assumed the readers were too stupid to know that “content” can mean both “substance” and “happily satisfied.”

Never assume your readers are stupid.

They might not have the extensive vocabulary you have. They may occasionally put apostrophes in inappropriate spots. They may have quit school at 16 to get a job, but that does not, ever, mean they’re simple-minded. People hate being “talked down” to and almost everyone I know has an internal radar that detects patronizing behavior. The minute your copy starts speaking. slowly. and. simply. to. be. very. clear, you’re going to offend at least half of the people reading it.

It doesn’t hurt anyone to learn a new word once in a while.

If “happy” really doesn’t cut it in your copy and you really, truly, desperately want to say “ecstatic” instead–do it. You don’t have to edit out every word that you couldn’t have found in the “Dick and Jane Book of Marketing.” If you want to say “supreme” instead of “best,” go ahead … just remember the point is to be understood as quickly as possible.

But don’t go so overboard that your meaning gets lost

I’m not saying you should start writing obscure, multi-syllabic copy though, either. It might be fun, but if you talk about the “Most advantageous promotion being presented only today,” people might not mean “Best Offer–Limited Time!” The point of good copy is to make your point, and if you fail to do that, you’ve failed.

Keep the headlines simple.

At the very least, keep the eye-catching stuff as straight-forward as you can. You can use more elaborate prose once you’ve got people reading, but you need to catch their attention first.

Ultimately, your vocabulary is a TOOL. You don’t need to use a sledgehammer when a regular hammer will do. You don’t need the fast blades of a food processor when you just need to trim a few vegetables for a salad. You don’t need a blow-torch to light the birthday candles.

In writing, as in so much else, you have to hit just the right level of force.

Because hitting people over the head is no way to convince them of anything. Keep things simple, but make them informative and interesting. Don’t try to impress people with your own vocabulary–if you’re a good writer, you can get your point across without having to go into debt for all those $5-words.