BrevityTV is currently accepting applications for a new member of our writing team.  The quality of our work must be improving, because we’ve had a lot more entrants this time, comprising a stronger pool of talent.  We’re getting to be the cool kids, I guess, because more people want to hang out with us.  But that means slogging through a huge stack of writing samples.  As further proof that I’ve yet to arrive, I have no reader.  It’s on me.

A personal blogging mandate of mine is not to offer advice. Yes, I get paid to write things and to consult on other writers’ work as an “expert.”  My writing has been produced in almost-professional ways.  Still, I keep myself in the “wannabe” category until words of mine are spoken on a non-internet screen.  No advice from me till then. However, my current task is lending me some insight.  I felt I should record some of the mistakes entrants have made, so I can refer back next time I’m submitting something myself, and I’ll share in case it’s of help to anyone else:

• SPELLING. Every book you read and every panel you attend, they emphasize this.  “Yeah, yeah,” I always think.  Who’s going to go to the trouble of submitting their work without checking spelling and punctuation?  Turns out… lots of people.  So I’m really just repeating here, but evidently it bears repeating: I WANT to eliminate you from consideration.  The twenty applicants I promised myself I’d get through before I allow myself to watch tonight’s episode of Big Bang Theory will go by faster if each gets three strikes upon a glance.  Every lame joke is a strike.  Overly dense opening description is a strike.  Each individual spelling error is a strike.  That means I allow you two misspellings, and I’m probably more generous than a real reader.  Meanwhile, a spelling error in the e-mail subject header?  Delete!

• COVER LETTER. Maybe you think my little organization doesn’t rate more than a message like “What up? Take a look!”  But my little organization demands 20-60 hours a week of my time.  It matters to me, and I want to staff it with people who care about it like I do.  So casual tone is great, but failure to make an effort?  You’re done.  Meanwhile, in a past life I hired people to work as summer camp teachers, and sorted thousands of applicants annually.  From them, I would forgive a boilerplate listing of qualifications.  From a writer, however, I expect something a little more inspired, with some personality. The good covers prove the writer visited our site, maybe mention a favorite sketch.  It goes miles to making me like you if you start with making me believe you like me.

• REGISTRATION. Yep, you’re meeting me over the internet.  There are creeps out there who might steal your work.  I’m not one. Now, my own approach has always been that until I have an agent or lawyer putting my stuff out to the power players, I need to take the risk that something might get stolen.  I can always write more, after all.  Most people are more protective than me, and that’s fine.  Register your work with the WGA and/or Library of Congress, and then you’ll have proof you wrote it, and you can sue any internet strangers who steal from you.  BUT… Don’t beat me over the head with your registration number or go out of your way to tell me that your sample registered.  Put the registration number somewhere like the file name of the attachment, or as a P.S. at the end of your letter, or put it on your sample’s cover page.  If the number is in bold at the top of your letter or your e-mail’s subject field, it tells me you’re not the trusting kind.  It makes me suspect  you consider your work precious, which means you won’t  translate to a member of a writing TEAM.  Similarly, a blatant refusal to send samples is as good a reason as any to drop you in the reject pile.  Meanwhile, of course the best sample would be something that’s already published.  Then there are no worries.

• TRYING TOO HARD. By all means write a cover letter that stands out, that seems friendly, and that demonstrates you have a personality.  A sly joke or two will go a long way.  However, a long string of wacky just makes you look desperate, and the overall effect is probably opposite that desired.  Relax, and let your actual writing do most of the work on impressing the reader.

• MAKING EXCUSES. Don’t have experience?  I don’t care.  Your writing sample will get the same 30-60 seconds, 1-2 pages to make me laugh that everyone else’s will.  Why set me up going into those pages EXPECTING you to disappoint?  If you can’t think of anything to say about your background, tell me about some of your favorite entertainment, or what inspired you to take up writing.  Either of those things might help us connect.  Telling me how you don’t really have any background but you thought you’d take a crack, fingers crossed, makes you sound… well, amateur.  And if your writing is good, I don’t care one lick if you’ve done this before, as long as you can do it again.

• CLICHE SAMPLE. The point is to stand out from the crowd.  As someone who has spent far more time around sketch comedy and sketch comedians than most, I’ve seen all I can take of commercial parodies.  (In my old troupe, we had a rule: no commercials, first dates, job interviews, or game shows.)  Naturally, some of the funniest sketches ever made fit these categories.  But a million boring knock-offs also do.  And when I’m wading through a couple hundred applicants, the one thing I want is a ray of originality.  Even if your fake commercial is brilliant, it’s still not going to stand out.  By the time your announcer character says, “Has this ever happened to you?” I’m already bored with you.

• FLIMSY SUBMISSION. My ad invited you to send a resume or summary of your background, and (a) writing sample(s.) What does it tell me if you only send one sample? Either you’re afraid I’m stealing from you (see above) or you don’t have samples sitting around.  I want to work with the kind of person who has so many samples that s/he is quickly able to shoot a message to me with two or three pieces attached, chosen from your array of samples based on length and tone.  This is not to say I’ll necessarily read three things from you, but if your first piece is borderline and shows promise, I’ll look at the next thing. If there is no next thing, then it’s the “no” pile for you.

So what to take away from all this?  Pick one or two or three of your best samples that are least like the rest of the pack.  Rewrite and rewrite again until what you’re sending is as sharp as it can be.  Then check for errors one last time.  Make an effort on a cover letter that makes me want to meet you.  Then relax, send it in, and let your writing do the job of introducing you.

Similar Posts:

• Seven Itchy Years (my writing thus far…)
• Curmugeon hat on: text messaging
• A New Strategy: The Table Read
• Jane Espenson is wrong.
• Never show the art! Except maybe this time.