One Week, Six Pages

I have been wrangled into the middle of the storm. We have one week and six pages. The challenge: write a proposal section pregnant with promise that is confined to limited real estate. All while senior personnel use their competing voices and priorities to dictate inclusion and exclusion criteria. It's an official shit show. After this stint, I am adding, "wordsmithing peacemaker" to my resume.

Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt the...
Oh fuck it, I always sucked at proposals.

It started with an outline [It always starts with an outline.] Find the story before telling it. Define the flow and narrative. So many opinions, so little time. Punch them in the mouth with their key challenge on the opener, it will help them to understand we know their problem. Start out with our experience, it will help them know we can do the job. Begin with the "how", it will help them realize we have a process to solve their issue. No one is on the same page. At this point, no one is even in the same library and I have yet to write a single word.

You and me? Yeah, we're writing this together.
Whether you like it or not.

I would have written less but I did not have enough time. God bless you Mark Twain, now I understand. With brute force mentality, I power through the first draft and fasten my seatbelt for the next meeting. Without surprise, the latest version is torn from limb-to-limb by the angry mob of editors. "Weak intro", "It doesn't speak to the statement of work", "Too long", "I hate you."

There's the author. Get him!

We play 52 pickup with the table of contents. Another outline, another write-up. It might be saved as "V.2" but when considering everyone's input, "V.26" is more apropos. A frenzied email string reveals all the current holes. Everyone implores that a meeting is vital to the success of this piece. A meeting is scheduled with numerous personnel from multiple skill sets for balanced input. One person shows up. One person gives feedback. With this one voice I find the next rewrite much easier to tackle. Except everyone who was unable to attend the meeting now has a delayed opinion.

Entertaining drastic edits while in the actual process of writing is impossible. It's like participating in an episode of Jeopardy! with an air horn blasting in your ear. That is it, going offline. My whereabouts moved from "Do Not Disturb" to "Try and Find Me". Off the grid of connectivity. Alone with my thoughts. Churn and burn those thoughts into words.

Has anyone seen Corporate Joe?

Next draft, next meeting. The imminent deadline staring back at us. Hints of consensus. A narrative is beginning to take shape. Still pushing. A few sticky points for inclusion. Almost there. Rewrite. Review. Rewrite. Review. Done! Except it is nine pages. Three pages over the limit. Time to be a heartless surgeon.

The editing room floor is riddled with half-baked ideas and run-on sentences. Too detailed, gone. Too broad of a stroke, see-ya. Great sentence with no substance, bye-bye. I am drunk with power. The tables have turned. This indentured servant now owns the estate. Each stroke of my red pen more empowering. Who are we kidding with Figure 1.2.5-7a.i!?! My kid draws better process flows with his Crayolas. Table 3, puh-leaze. That 7 point Arial font makes it look like a nest of indecipherable ink. Here is some advice, have a point.

This shit has got to go.

Final review. The smoke has cleared and the crying has stopped. The group accepts my aggressive, inevitable, and necessary edits. Then we hear back from the solicitor. They would like us to explore this section more and we can expand. I have to hand back the keys to the castle. Hero to Zero. It was fun to be in charge for a bit. Now I have to shut-up and listen all over again.