"You don't think like us."

"We love talking to you," my anchor client told me yesterday. "Because you don't think like us and you don't talk like us."

There's nothing wrong with them; it's not like their company's culture turns them into robots. But they find it refreshing to have access to an outsider's perspective.

That's what I pride myself on delivering. It's the promise implicit in the name of this blog, which I took from a New York Times headline: "For the clearest view, use someone else's eye."

As for me, I'm always on the lookout for people who see things differently. Like the person behind this photo I found on Facebook, a British comedian named Phil Lucas. Does the artwork exist? It hardly matters; the sign alone is brilliant.

It's easy to find people who think the way you do. Seek out the ones who think differently; your life and work will be richer for it.
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Mother's words of...wisdom?

My mother told me many things as I was growing up. She must have; we were together for over 30 years. But I can really only remember one thing. One piece of advice—terrible advice, I think you'll agree—that has stuck with me through the decades.

Curious yet?

When I was in ninth grade, my mother told me:

"If a boy asks you out but you don't think he's cute, you should go out with him anyway. Because you never know—he might have a cute friend."

Terrible, right? It basically translates as, "Use whoever you need to so you can get what you want." My mother, the Machiavelli of North Jersey.

I am pleased to say I never used that advice in the world of dating. But I have found it helpful in other situations—mostly when my lizard brain starts shouting that an opportunity I've just been offered is beyond my abilities. I reframe her advice and it keeps me saying yes. I don't think I've ever regretted it.

I've been thinking about dear old Mom because I turned down a client yesterday. The client was looking for something specific, something I've done for other people in the past as a favor. When someone I respect put my name forward for the gig I said, "Thanks, but it's not in my core business." And then I thought, Hey, look at me, respecting my time and not falling into the "yes" trap! I was so proud of myself. For about 45 seconds.

Then I heard my mother's voice telling me I'd just made a mistake. Yes, this client needed something tangential today, but who knows what she'll need tomorrow? (She might have a cute friend.) And after I did the tangential thing, I'd be first in line for any more appropriate writing assignments that popped up. (The cute friend might like me!)

It's the damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don't dance we've all done a million times. This time, I'm reframing it: "Blessed that I didn't."

I'm saving myself for the right client. And that's a philosophy my mother would have approved of.

Is the client always right?

When you're shopping for a new outfit and shriek "I love it!" the salesclerk in the Dress Department will process your credit card with a smile, even though the dress makes you look like a sequin-spangled sausage. The customer is always right. 

But what about the client? Not in my experience. And I see it as an integral part of my job to tell them that - in a kind, supportive way - when necessary.

I am more than a salesclerk in the Word Department. I want my clients to show themselves in their best light, whether they're giving a speech or publishing something under their byline. Unfortunately, sometimes that means I have to disagree, or correct, or - here's the right word: Advise.

I learned that lesson early on in my career as a speechwriter. I sat in the executive's inner sanctum with my team, listening to the client speak the words I had written. (It's always a thrill.) When the client got to the end of the speech he looked at me and said, "What? Do you get paid by the word?" (Of course not!) He said, "There's too many words in here." And he proceeded to read the opening paragraphs again, taking out the verbs. Obviously, it made no sense. Equally obviously, the speaker had no idea he was making no sense. But how do you teach a grown man about grammar? I took the speech back from him: "I'll fix it for you." The speech he ultimately delivered had shorter sentences and fewer adjectives. But every sentence had a verb. The client is not always right.

One day, another client called to give me an assignment. He wanted to write a piece about something that had generated bad press for him, to explain why the critics had been wrong and he had been right. The event had happened years earlier and been forgotten by just about everyone...except my client. The assignment would have generated a nice fee for me, but I couldn't see any upside for him. I told him I thought he was making a mistake and I wouldn't help him do it. It hurt - I could have used the money at the time. Even when the client isn't right, I need to be. (Click to tweet.)

So when clients hire me, they get my advice as well as my words. They may not always make what I think is the right choice - in the end, it's their decision. But I'll always do my best to steer them away from the sequins.

Happiness Visited & Revisited

One small (very small) benefit of having neglected my web presence for a year is the blast from the past when I signed on to Twitter this morning. Apparently last July someone introduced me to a new client as "the Obi-Wan of speechwriting." Seeing that made my day. Just as, no doubt, it had a year ago.

Earlier this week, a communications veteran told me: "That is the best query note I've gotten in a long time." Comments like that may just help convince me that I don't hate writing query notes.

I'm not going to let that one get lost. Or Obi-Wan, for that matter. Time to create a bulletin board of encouraging words so I can revisit them whenever my eye wanders from the computer screen.