So I'm getting some. Clients. A few. That's good. They're getting to know me, know I'm good at what I do, trying to figure out who *is* this woman and where did she come from.
I say, "If you want to view my portfolio..." or "If you can't remember my number..." just go to sessum.com. That's what I say. I tell them to go there.
Let's see. There's me looking all teenage mosaic-like, George in his locks. There's a click through to our rather demanding five-year-old child. There's plenty of mentions that George is in Europe, which means I'm here doing what-------taking care of our five-year-old child. There's this caption: we live online and it shows. OH yah, there's my portfolio link and testimonials, and of course links to our various blogs.
Blogs where we talk about some, um, unseemly things sometimes.
There's this blog, for example.
Not only is allied linked pretty prominently off sessum.com, the place I'm sending clients, but it's also the primary search result of the 7,000 hits that come up on Google for my name.
I've been thinking a lot lately about blogs as calling cards. About when you're out on your own freelancing, mostly people search you up on google, mostly what they find is: me here. being who I am.
Zoinks!
Is that good? Is it bad? Does it matter? It could. But so far, I'm doing what I do anyway, even though the things I write here wouldn't exactly be what I'd say in an email to a prospective client or in a job interview.
Some recent quips of mine from this very blog demonstrate the edge I think I'm walking in talking about myself outloud. And yet, although I wouldn't say these things directly to a prospective client or employer, should I care if they read them in this venue--a venue very different from an interview setting? Should I care if they read things like:
"I have this tendency, being pretty smart, of having little to no common sense at times. I tend to do six things fast and almost perfect rather than plan, think, do it once the right way. tomato sauce cans and stuff."
"I have a fucking voice mail in the middle of the road!"
"And that is where survival turns to damage, where screams dream about crackling silence, where cameleon changes are practiced and honed. That is where I lost myself to her mirror."
"I really need to make a lot of money because I'm pretty sure I could do without this whole work-a-day world altogether."
"I am sorry I do not have a penis."
"It's been a while since I've attended an actual in-person, around-the-table meeting. I wonder what people's eyes look like that close up? Do they still blink?"
"Clindimycin smells exactly, and I mean exactly, like cat shit."
"I'm not sure if this is the 16th or 17th time the ambulance has come for our next door neighbor."
"Jenna started throwing up again, fever back up to 103..."
"I still haven't washed off the last throw up yet."
"suppository where it's supposed to be. all is right with the world."
"I shared it with my therapist via email, who I was supposed to see today except that strep intercepted me."
"I say now, more and more, you know what? Fuck off."
Whatever else, this is me. This is my voice home.
It's not exactly the best first impression I could make in all settings. And I'm pretty sure it will turn some people off. But today, when corporate loyalty to employees is at an all time low, I think the biggest risk for bloggers is in *not* being ourselves out here. I don't want to work with anyone who comes to me, to my business, expecting me to be someone I'm not: a color-phobic conservative, for example. I'm not. And maybe it can save a lot of interpersonal hoopla for that to show right up front. Don't care to work for that type. Might as well bill myself as such.
So maybe blogging helps us select clients--and clients select us--based on something more honest, more risky, and ultimately more meaningful than a job interview.
It's one thing to lose a piece of business or a client. It's another thing altogether to lose oneself.
So here I am.
Come and get me.
