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| Volume 47, Number 1, Spring 1999 |
by David Tenenbaum
Is your office is a bit, say, disorganized? Join the club! Organizing an office is a monster filing problem. The stuff you need at hand today suddenly becomes a nuisance tomorrow. You are continually setting up new categories for new projects. You don't want to waste much time getting organized, but you don't want to print or copy references twice, either. And you do want to impress editors with your keen organizational skills.
These remarks are primarily addressed to freelancers, but they also apply to staff writers, whose task is simpler because they have fewer marketing problems. But have you ever heard a journalist brag about being organized? I'm not bragging. I'm not, by nature, organized, it's just that I can't stand wasting time looking for stuff.
The technique I've developed after almost 15 years of mainly freelance existence was founded on the precept that filing is a necessary evil. The starting point is to align the filing system with the natural sequence of assignments. My system maximizes use of computer files and recycled materials, while minimizing use of time and new materials. That's perfect for the freelance budget-both for time and money.
Let's take a story from the top, and see how a story gets organized-how it gets filed. At the idea stage, I put a sketch of the idea and possible markets into a possible stories folder, clipped to any reference material I've gathered. I scan the file occasionally when desperate for assignments.
At the query stage, I write the query and file it in the new query folder on the hard disk (a second folder stores dead queries). A printout of the live query goes in a paper new query folder in the filing cabinet at my desk. When an editor calls two months later, I just grab the folder and scan the letter. Searching for a query on the computer while talking is slow and confusing. Remember: Nothing demonstrates fecklessness better than forgetting a brilliant story line!
At the assignment stage, I enter the story on the word processor assignment sheet. This table, listing length, deadline, fee, publication, and slant, keeps me honest in terms of length and deadlines. It keeps publishers honest too, if they "forget" to pay. The contract goes to the contract file in the file cabinet.
At the working stage (say three days before deadline), a primary tool is an in-out tray. One tray (more if needed) stores references, articles, and small books for each story. The tray is within arm's reach of my desk chair. It gets a label identifying the story-the contents change frequently. I can't rely on memory to file quickly, so I keep new labels handy.
Why use trays? Because they prevent fumbling with folders, envelopes, and file drawers. When you need a reference, it's right there. When you abandon the story for a while, stack the whole messy pile of references and slide it into the tray. Even after the story is submitted, the tray is useful. When your editor calls with 71 queries, your references are still sorted out.
My second line of defense-also aimed at speed-is a three-ring notebook for interviews notes or transcripts. Notebooks keep the pages orderly; unlike folders, the pages always face correctly to minimize fumbling. Each story occupies a single tabbed section in the notebook; interviews are dated and filed alphabetically within the section. Re-interviews go ahead of previous ones. If I write again about the same topic, I can resume using the notebook section, or move the whole story to a new notebook.
The front page of each notebook section lists e-mails and phone numbers, with abbreviations to jog my memory. "ST" means I "spoke to" the source. "WCB" means "will call back," "VM" means "left message-voice mail," "LM" means "left message with a human being," "EM" means "I sent e-mail." I date these contacts so I'll know when to follow up if needed.
When a notebook is full, I print its number and names of the stories contained on a label which I glue to the spine. The labels are printed from a "labels-notebook" file in the computer, which has the right type size and margins. After printing, I close the file without saving the changes, so it's ready next time.
Obviously, each article gets a computer file. Nothing new here, except that I use footnotes to cite the origin of facts. This bugs editors, who tell me "We don't use footnotes," in a tone saying, "Read the magazine once in a while, fellow!" But when an editor contests my figure for the population of Botswana, I just search the computer for "Botswana" and read the footnote.
This trick helped immensely when an editor wanted me to help a reader needing information about Vietnam-two years after I'd written the article. I could hardly remember the obscure disease in question, let alone my source, but in less than two minutes, I found the article citation, and read the scientist's phone number from the telephone page of the notebook. This was helpful to the reader and ingratiating to the editor, but not a time sink for me.
The closure stage begins when editing is completed (is this always seven months after submission?). I move references from the in-out tray to a labeled story-reference envelope on my story reference shelf and file it alphabetically. I prefer envelopes to folders, because they stay closed on the shelf. I glue a label on both sides of one end of the envelope, then place the envelope with the end protruding so I can read it from either side in my frantic search for old-story information. Again, the labels are printed from a dedicated document called "labels-envelope."
Clips are filed alphabetically in clip envelopes, labeled from the same document as the story notes. The label may cite the publication and pub year, or just the story slug.
After receiving payment and clips, I delete the article from the assignment sheet. Until then, the sheet reminds me of outstanding details.
I admit the scheme may seem atomized, since information is broken into several pieces. But it's logical-and conserving of space. To find a story's clips (on the clip shelf), interviews (in the notebook), references (on the reference shelf), or text (on the hard disk), I just identify what kind of info I need and go to the appropriate place.
One file drawer handles all my business needs: contracts, possible
story file, phone bills, receipts and tax stuff. No bulky references
clog the drawer.
And it's cheap-most stuff fits in the computer or on shelves.
There's little need for filing cabinets or fancy office furniture.
There's massive use of recycled envelopes and notebooks, and minimal
use of new supplies-mainly those difficult-to-scrounge folder
tabs, labels and in-out trays.
What about information not directly linked to a story? Articles, manuscripts and books pertinent to possible stories go on shelves labeled health, environment, pollution, war, epidemic, famine, and other good stuff. These files are more general-and hence separate-from story references.
What about culling? Journalism may be history's first draft, but it's not history itself. If you haven't used something in a few years, cull with class! Space is valuable. Old data is too outdated for use in most stories, and time rummaging through eight-year-old references is time squandered. Keep files (and hard disks) clean!
Finally, on a completely unrelated note, consider buying a headset to replace your bulky telephone handset. It saves your neck and liberates both hands.
Whether you accept that advice or not, take to heart the paraphrased wisdom of labor organizer Joe Hill. On the day before he was executed in 1915, he uttered this priceless sound bite-applicable to labor activists and journalists alike: "Don't mourn. Organize!"
David Tenenbaum is a freelance science writer and staff writer: The Why Files http://whyfiles.news.wisc.edu. The article was derived from a session at the 1999 NASW writing seminars, organized by Stephen Hart.