Write You Are… has been terribly neglected due to various things including the writer falling in love, taking an extended Christmas break, being quite busy and being rubbish at updating this blog, basically. And now? I’m back with a grammar fight.

This feature was published with the headline “Signed, sealed, delivered: by who?”

Then a reader complained that it should be whom, not who. “Just because you may think you’re editing for techies, geeks and nerds does not excuse poor English grammar.”

So they changed it and added a correction to the online version: “This article was amended on Friday 9 January 2008. The headline, ‘Signed, sealed, delivered: by who?’ was grammatically incorrect. This has been corrected.”

Now Michael Rosen has complained about it being changed.

I’m amused. And no, I didn’t write the headline myself.

Spot the not-so-deliberate mistake in this Health4Media release. You’ve got to wonder how nobody spotted that before it went out.

I spend a lot of time talking to other freelancers, both in the real world and in cyberspace, and I keep coming across the view that editors are sadistic bullies who mistreat poor, vulnerable freelancers just because they can, idly toying with their pitches while simultaneously sharpening their claws. Why don’t they reply? Why are they ignoring you? Because they can, that’s why! They have the money and you want it, so they can hold it high above you and watch you jump up and down trying to grab it.

Perhaps I’m exaggerating, but I’ve heard some freelancers with opinions not so far from this. I’ve been told that editors are all out to mess writers around, that they ignore emails just because they can, apparently forgetting about the fact that sometimes editors are – wait for it – busy. They don’t just have your email to answer, they have all the other emails to deal with, too, and phone calls, meetings… They have to deal with writers and PRs and publishers and ad sales folk.

It would be nice if editors could take the time to respond to every pitch, but wildly unrealistic. They have other things to do, like their jobs. Aha, I hear you say, but they need good ideas, they need fresh new writers. Yes, they do, but for every decent pitch there will be 20 or 50 or 100 rubbish ones. In one staff job, I drafted some guidelines on what I was looking for and sent them to everyone who emailed me poorly-targeted pitches. And as a rule, they then sent me… more poorly-targeted pitches.

You need a thick skin to survive as a freelance and you need to recognise that if an editor doesn’t reply to you, it’s not out of spite or malice, it’s because they had something else to do, and lots of something elses at that. During one recent stint as an acting magazine editor, there was one day where it took me four hours to start eating my lunch, because every time I tried to take a bite of my sandwich, more urgent things demanded my attention.

I also think it’s dangerous to see editors as gods or monsters because it’s impossible to form a good working relationship with someone if you think they are out to screw you over. But when you’re cold-calling, you don’t have a relationship yet. So if you pitch an editor and they ignore you, it is not actually the equivalent of them sleeping with you, saying “I’ll call you” and not doing so. Expecting editors to respond to every unsolicited pitch (a suggestion that was floated by one organisation a while ago, possibly the NUJ, but I can’t find the link) is rather more like a double-glazing salesman turning up on your doorstep and expecting you to critique their patter after you’ve failed to take them up on the offer because you don’t actually need any double glazing, and are busy dealing with the fact that your house is on fire right now and you’re trying to put it out.

(Also: Write You Are… has been somewhat neglected these past few weeks. This is because I was going to write about having a good work-life balance, but have been too busy having one to blog about it. Which is better than the time I wrote a 1,400 feature on work-life balance while working on two other big pieces due at the same time, and was too busy writing about it to have one.)

Speaking of The Renegade Writer, as I’ve been reading the book as well as the blog, I’m amazed how the pitching (or in US-speak, querying) process varies across the pond.

When I approach editors with ideas, I send an email labelled with a clear subject line that sums up my pitch, with a clear explanation of the idea written in an appropriate style and details of any news hooks, suggestions for who I would interview, case studies I have lined up etc. I then add one or two lines about me, a link or two if I have any clippings that are particularly relevant and my signature, which contains my website link. And that’s it.

No unsolicited CV or writing samples attached, because editors don’t like receiving attachments from people they don’t know. They don’t have the time or inclination to read CVs they haven’t asked for and they don’t really care what university I went to. And we’re talking email here. It wouldn’t even occur to me to use snail mail to approach an editor unless they specifically requested it.

But it seems the process works very differently in the US. From what I’ve gathered from The Renegade Writer and a brief wander through the Absolute Write forums, it seems if you’re querying a US publication you’ll be sending a CV and writing samples as well as your pitch, and you may well be sending them by post and enclosing a stamped, self-addressed envelope to encourage a reply.

From my own experience, both on staff and as a freelancer, I suspect that if most UK pitches were sent by snail mail, most UK editors would let them build up into a teetering pile and simply never find time to open them, let alone respond. I can’t help wondering how much time and money goes into mailing out these please-hire-me packets to editors who may not even look at them.

How do you know if you’re ready to make the leap to being full-time freelance? The checklist over at The Renegade Writer is a pretty good start, but there are more questions you need to ask. Such as…

Can you handle the uncertainty?
Right now, I know I’m doing writing/subbing shifts until the 17th of October. I was supposed to be working on a website project but it’s been delayed. I may or may not be doing some copywriting for a local client in November and I’m covering for one of my editors for a couple of weeks in December. The rest of the time, who knows. I could crack five new markets. Alternatively all my pitches could fall straight into a void. Personally, I thrive on this fear and I find a combination of confidence, hard graft, blind faith and blind panic serves me very well.

Can you juggle multiple commitments?
Such as writing and sending pitches, organising and conducting interviews for pieces you’re currently working on, finishing/filing others and chasing invoices, all while remembering to eat and get dressed? Can you plan ahead well enough to make sure you stay on top of multiple deadlines and are you organised enough to remember when they are?

Do you know how to say no?
I speak as someone who actually considered cancelling a trip away when one new client rang to offer me a commission soon after I went freelance. It is very difficult to say no when you have too much work on or you’re going on holiday, especially if it’s a new client – you worry they won’t ask again.

Do you have some basic accounting and tax knowledge?
This isn’t as scary as it sounds, although tax returns are an an unattractive prospect and I for one am happy to pay an accountant to do mine. But you’ll need some basic knowledge whether or not you get an accountant. Aside from telling HMRC you’re self-employed and arranging to pay Class 2 NI (unless you think you’ll qualify for small earnings exemption), it’s worth knowing what tax-deductible expenses you can claim, what the VAT threshold is, the pros and cons of gross pay vs. PAYE, and whether it’s worth becoming a limited company rather than a sole trader.

Do you have a spine?
People will ignore your pitches. They will reject your pitches. They will fail to pay you. These things happen to every freelancer, no matter how good. You will need to be able to cope with rejection and have the backbone to chase payments that don’t show up on time. Diplomacy will serve you well. Being a doormat will not.

Are you determined to do it no matter what anyone says?
If you’re still dying to work for yourself despite people pointing out that you won’t have any job security, there’s a credit crunch on and you’ll have to make the tea all the time, it’s worth giving it a go. I’m certainly glad I did.

Being freelance means fielding some seriously infuriating comments and questions. Cath Janes blogged about this a while ago and it’s a topic that frequently comes up on Journobiz. Any freelancer can spout tales of being asked if they still haven’t managed to find a job or of people assuming it’s fine to just drop round any time because they’re not, you know, working or anything.

So here’s one possible set of answers to those questions (some irritating, some just a bit dim), all of which I have recently been asked.

So, you’re unemployed.
No, I’m self-employed. I earn money just like you, but I don’t have to ask someone else’s permission to go on holiday, glossy magazines are legitimate business expenses and I can relax in the knowledge that nobody is going to make me fill in a self-appraisal form.

You don’t actually have a job though, do you?
I have my own business. I have a trading name registered with HMRC and an accountant. But I don’t have to sit around trying to look busy if I finish all my work before 5pm and nobody monitors how much time I spend on Facebook. Except when I’m doing shift work, when I get to drink the office tea but am not expected to donate money when people I don’t know get married or older. Do I win?

But you don’t live in London, so you’re never going to get any big stories, are you?
Nah, I’ve only written for five national newspapers (plus one international one). It’s not like we have telephones, internet access or train stations outside London.

So who have you written for? Well, you have to start small, don’t you?
Yes. By talking to you. (Well, that’s what I wish I’d said. I was actually too gobsmacked to respond.)

So presumably you’re freelancing in the hope that someone will give you a job.
I have a job. If I wanted a job working for someone else I’d apply for one. I’m freelancing because it means I get paid to do something I enjoy without having to ask someone else’s permission to go on holiday.

We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in ten years but I’ve looked you up on Facebook so I can ask for all your contacts.
Tell you what, I’ll get back to you in ten years.

Maybe I should keep copies of your articles in case you make it big as a writer one day.
And by writer, you mean what exactly? What is it you think I’m doing now? Playing Scrabble?

The Guardian’s How to write journalism guide hasn’t gone down well with some hacks.

“I feel really pissed off that the Guardian thinks it’s fine to spill our professional secrets to wannabes,” writes Wordsmith. “Loads of people who bought the Guardian today are going to think ‘I could do that’.”

I imagine this happens on a daily basis irrespective of what’s in the paper.

Some of the people who think “I could do that” assume journalism is a doddle because they think it just involves writing, not finding stories, pitching editors, tracking down case studies, conducting interviews and so on. Or they think it means writing at leisure, not quickly and accurately under pressure. They annoy journalists by announcing “I could do that” without any vague comprehension of what “that” is.

Then there are the people who actually could do it. And why shouldn’t they? If they’re not good enough they won’t be a threat. So what’s the problem?

Wordsmith says the problem is people with no journalistic training or experience who think they can waltz into an already undervalued, underpaid profession. “People who’d be happy to get a byline for free, just to have their name in print.”

The people who are simply grateful for bylines already exist. But I’m not going to lump all wannabes who lack formal journalism training into this category. Some people are capable of waltzing into this profession and picking it up as they go along. Some aren’t.

If you’re a freelancer, you can champion (though not necessarily expect) meritocracy and hope editors will judge your pitches on quality. Or you can decide it’s a closed shop and nobody new should get a look-in. You can’t have it both ways.

This guide isn’t a golden ticket to media glory. Secrets? The real secrets of what being good involves (and how to do it without getting sued) aren’t in it, as anyone who thinks “I could do that” and can’t will discover. And if they can? Good luck to them. Although they may want to buy a copy of McNae’s first.