Category: Working women

  • Writing Memoir Is Risky Business

    Last fall I finished revising my memoir manuscript, BRAVADO AND A SKETCHY VISION LED ME HERE, and I shared it with several friends and family members before I started seeking a publisher. All of them were familiar with the basic premise of the book: it’s a coming-of-age-in-the-workplace story that takes place in 1979-1980. As a young woman, I was unsure about how to apply my feminist principles to my own life—What did I believe? How far was I prepared to go in pursuit of a career? How much did having a relationship and a family matter to me? If I wanted all three, how would that really work day-to-day?

    Sharing the manuscript is scary. I’m exposing my personal life. To judgment – (Your life is boring. Your experiences don’t matter.) To criticism – (The writing is amateurish. The book is poorly written.)

    Writing about my own life means I’m also writing about friends and family in my life. Real risky business. They didn’t ask to be in my book or become part of my creative project. They may resent the intrusion. Hate how I’ve characterized them. Even if I don’t intend to, my words can hurt people.

    There’s a risk that my family won’t like what I’ve written. A risk that goes beyond embarrassment or irritation about the portrayals. More like – “I don’t care for memoirs—all that emotional stuff. I’d rather read a spy novel.” OK, I can handle that. Tastes vary. Vampire novels may be great stories, but they don’t appeal to me.

    But if someone dear to me said, “I’m worried that although I love you, I might not like your writing,” that would be hard. I’d have difficulty separating my relationship from my craft, which is my passion and my life’s work.

    I’m exposing my innermost thoughts. Often they’re innermost for a reason—sometimes because they’re painful. Embarrassing. Unworthy. Or stupid. As a writer, I’ve learned that the painful and embarrassing moments are most worth exploring—they’re most likely to yield the material that others really connect with.

    The story I’m telling is only as good as my craft. As a memoirist, I use my writerly skills to shape the stories I tell. I decide which incidents, feelings and insights will create a story arc and which are extraneous details and better omitted. I use my powers of description, write dialog, and mine my memory for details. I’ve learned to check facts instead of trusting my memory (The lecture happened in February, not November as I recalled) so I can present a scene as accurately as possible. My skills or shortcomings as a writer determine the value placed on my memoir.

    Why take that risk? Some memoirists write in hopes that they can teach others. That’s not what motivates me. Instead, I hope others will recognize something about themselves – “That frustrates me, too.” They’ll enjoy a moment of reminiscence – “OMG, that happened to me!” Or they’ll realize that they’re not the only one – “Wow, I’ve thought that, too.”

    Despite the inherent risks, I examine certain periods of my life to find and share meaning. My experiences are worth writing about, not because they’re mine, but because they’re human and other people will see themselves in some of the central truths of my life, even if the particulars differ. For example, other working women have worried about pay and workplace politics. Today, some young women still wonder about how to balance a relationship with a career, just as I did. Other middle-aged women are looking back and considering their legacy.

    If you write memoir—what makes it worth the risk?

    If you read memoirs—why do they appeal to you?

  • Reflecting on the Business of Being in Business—Ellen Shriner Communications 1993-2011

    In 1993, I launched Ellen Shriner Communications when my sons were 1 ½ and 4 years old. I had been looking for full-time work as a marketing communications copywriter and was offered freelance projects. That simultaneously answered the questions: “What should my next job be?” and “How could I spend more time with my boys?” Eventually, I discovered an additional benefit—I had time to take Loft classes, write personal essays and finish a book-length memoir. stacked hat logo

    Initially, having my own business was a means to an end. During the next 18 years, it became a huge part of my identity. However, by 2011, I was ready for different challenges, and I gradually shut the business down. Today, as I dismantle what remains of my office in preparation for moving, I’m reflecting on what the business meant to me.

    Days when it was great to be self-employed . . .

    • Over the years, I wrote a lot of ads, brochures, direct mail, newsletters, training materials, videos, websites for national clients like Radisson Hotels, Hallmark, Target, US Bank, Medtronic, Sears, Capital One Auto Finance, Eli Lilly, and Pillsbury—work I’m proud of.
    • World Headquarters for Ellen Shriner Communications ;)
      World Headquarters for Ellen Shriner Communications 😉
    • I had the pleasure of teaming up with many talented graphic designers at firms including, InMind Design, Grand Ciel Design, Matt Shimon Creative, Zetah Design, and Fuego Design. We functioned as virtual ad agencies and delivered loads of smart creative work.

     

     

    • Some of my work won awards.
    Awards
    Midwest Direct Marketing ARC Awards
    • Being my own boss meant that I could flex my schedule so I could attend my sons’ field trips and Halloween parties.
    • Similarly, I had the flexibility to run errands and manage car or house repairs.

      Tasha, my faithful office mate
      Tasha, my faithful office mate
    • On sunny summer days, I could take a walk or do a little gardening over my lunch hour.

    Days when being self-employed wasn’t as great as it sounds . . .

    • Dozens of times I went on sales calls and left them shaking my head at how clueless and cheap some prospects were. More than a handful had to be told “No” when they asked me to work for ridiculously cut-rate prices.
    • Plenty of my clients were so small that you’ve never heard of them—an African entrepreneur, a wedding singer, and a manufacturer of knock-off beauty products—and they had the budgets to match.
    • Sometimes I was in a panic trying to hit my client’s unreasonable deadlines. I’d stay up too late, get up too early, and be jangled by too much caffeine as I tried to power through projects to deliver them on time.
    • No one paid me if I were sick or wanted to take off on vacation.
    • Often I took on projects even if I was too busy or it was inconvenient, because turning down work from good clients drives them away.
    • Equally nerve-wracking were the times I had no work and nothing on the horizon. My billings were bleak after 9/11, when the Great Recession began, and plenty of times in between.
    • Working alone was isolating—an unintended consequence of being a sole proprietor.

    After 18 years, I was growing restless. My guys were in college and I was ready for something new. So when a client offered me a part-time job writing marketing communications, it seemed like the perfect solution. I could continue my writing career while maintaining my part-time flexible lifestyle. I’d be paid every two weeks (no more scrambling for billings!) and receive paid vacation and holidays.

    At first, I couldn’t get used to the idea that when I left my desk at the end of the day, I was done—no more working nights or weekends! I thought I would miss my home office, but having professional colleagues has more than made up for it. Besides, working in your bathrobe is over-rated.

    I was incredibly lucky to have professional work and the flexibility to be with my guys as they grew up. I’m grateful, too, for the time to pursue my literary projects. Today, Ellen Shriner Communications is a proud memory, but Ellen Shriner, Writer is alive and thriving.

    The World Headquarters for Ellen Shriner, Writer is wherever I carry my laptop
    The World Headquarters for Ellen Shriner, Writer is wherever I carry my laptop
  • What’s Behind the Wage Gap Between Women and Men?

    Recently, my son mentioned that he’s decided to ask for a raise. My immediate (but unspoken) reaction was caution: Don’t rock the boat. Look what a great learning opportunity you have. In this economy just be grateful to have such a good job. That mindset exemplifies a gender difference—women often are afraid to ask for a raise or insist on a promotion.

    When I think about my son’s situation more objectively, I realize he’s right. For the last nine months, he has been doing a product manager’s job without the official title or the additional money a product manager would make. Higher-ups in the organization have publicly recognized his efforts, so it is a good time to ask for a raise.

    I was surprised to realize how ingrained my caution is. Because I’m aware of women’s tendency to be self-effacing, I thought that mindset no longer had power over me. And yet, I can recall times that I’ve devalued my contributions. I know that women worry about being disliked if they advocate for themselves—I’ve done that, too.

    Reluctance to rock the boat is one of the reasons why women’s salaries continue to lag behind men’s.

    The pay gap figure that’s often used is that the median earnings of full-time female workers are 77 percent of the median earnings of full-time male workers (Bureau of Labor Statistics).

    Often women aren’t confident, effective negotiators. Many times women feel grateful for the job—lucky to have it at all—instead of recognizing the value we contribute. Or women want to be liked and worry that pushing for what we’re due will be seen as being aggressive. There are good reasons for women’s concerns.

    A recent New York Times article describes research that validates the persistent, and often unconscious, perception that women who ask for raises and promotions are unfeminine and demanding.

    Linda C. Babcock, one of the researchers the article cites, addresses the “apples to apples” argument in her book Women Don’t Ask. When comparing the salaries and negotiating experiences of single men and women who had just earned MBAs, she asked, “When you got your offer, did you attempt to negotiate?” She found that about 7 percent of women attempted to negotiate, while 57 percent of men did. Of those people who negotiated, they were able to increase their salary by over 7 percent.

    There are other systemic reasons for the wage earnings gap. Here are some of the common counter arguments rationalizing it:

    Women often take more time off – They are more likely to interrupt their careers when they become parents, and they are more likely to be the default caregivers for sick children and parents.

    Although I couldn’t find evidence to conclusively confirm or disprove it, this assertion feels true. The trend is certainly true of the women I know. Obviously, if a woman works fewer hours and/or her family leave is unpaid, she will make less money in a year when she has heavy caretaking responsibilities (whether or not she should be responsible for more of the caretaking is a different issue).

    But it doesn’t make sense for women to be penalized long-term for shouldering that responsibility. For example, 10 years’ experience should be 10 years’ experience, whether the employee is a man or a woman. If a woman works full-time for five years, then takes off for five years to be with her children, then brings her skills up to speed and returns to full-time work for an additional five years, her pay should be that of a person who has 10 years’ experience. The interruption shouldn’t have a lasting effect, but often it does.

    Women often enter lower paying professions such as teaching, nursing and food preparation, and that’s why they earn less.

    The low-paying profession argument deserves a closer look. Female elementary school teachers make 90.9 percent of what men make and female nurses make 85.6 percent of what their male counterparts make (Institute for Women’s Policy Research IWPR #C350a). That’s still a wage gap.

    Women in high-paying industries also lag behind men. Female physicians and surgeons earn 71 percent of what males in those fields earn. Female lawyers earn 77.1 percent of what male lawyers make.

    The size of the gap may vary, but the fact of a persistent wage gap is undeniable.

    The gap grows during the span of a woman’s career. If a woman doesn’t make the same salary as a man at the beginning of her career, she is very likely to be playing catch-up at her next job. The lag will compound over the course of her career.

    What makes pay equity even more challenging is that employees don’t know the salary range for their positions. Many employers have spoken or unspoken rules that forbid inquiring about coworkers’ salaries, so employees can’t ask without fear of retaliation. The Paycheck Fairness Act 2014 is intended to make it easier for women to know what their counterparts are being paid and give women the data as well as the legal clout to insist on equal pay. But even if salary transparency were legal, discussing income is nearly taboo in our culture.

    As history and other anti-discrimination laws have taught us, changing hearts, minds and cultures is even harder than changing laws. Addressing women’s reluctance to negotiate and employers’ subtle bias against women who do seek raises and promotions are the real challenges.