Randy Hecht is the consummate writing professional. She runs a very successful freelance business, Aphra Communications, and works with international businesses handling technical and shareholder-facing content.
But even the most professional freelance writer runs into things that are inexplicably awful. Randy and I often compare notes behind the scenes regarding freelance life, clients, lousy gig offers, and all sorts of odd emails and offers. And wow, there are plenty of odd things out there.
This post is the result of one of those oddities that hit Randy’s inbox. There’s a lesson in here for us writers — be wary of sugar-coated messaging.
Fame and fortune? Or bait and switch?
By Randy B. Hecht
Another day, another unsolicited request to be a guest on a TV show. I mean, that’s a typical Tuesday for all of us, right?
Well, there was one typical element: the invitation was a ruse. A marketing ploy. An attempt made in the hope that I bring enough vanity and gullibility to the party to fall for a lie. An “offer” whose substance shares the initials of Baloney Sandwich.
“Hey Randy,” the email began, because “hey” is the pinnacle of professionalism in communication these days. My new friend identified himself as “the Regional Producer” for a “National TV show” whose host’s name will ring a bell with anyone whose memory of talk TV stretches back to the 1980s—and if you do remember the name, your reaction would probably be, “Wow, so he’s still around?”
The email continued: “We are producing a local edition of the show in the New York market and is surrounding areas and we thought Aphra Communications might be a good fit”—and asked if I “could carve out a few minutes to speak,” with the understanding that they would be “finalizing this segment in the next week or two.”
“This segment.” Right. Because actual show bookers would ask you if you wanted to participate in a segment of an unspecified nature on an unnamed topic—because being vague is how you get the best guests.
Now, I’d never heard of this show, which turns out to run early on weekday mornings on a cable channel I’d never watch and features “lifestyle” programming I’d see as a waste of my time. And I don’t do “lifestyle” writing. I’d be a poor fit for any segment on this show. So why did Mr. Regional Producer contact me?
The answer was in his sigline. He doesn’t work for the show. He works for “a fully horizontally and vertically integrated production and marketing agency” whose team members regard themselves as “Marketing Matchmakers.” Which means that had I fallen for the vanity play, I’d have been told that it turns out they’re going in a different direction for that cable show, but if I signed on as an agency client, they could fish for more media opportunities for me.
Not that it was ever about “me,” in any case. The “unsubscribe” link at the bottom of the email bore the URL of an emailbroadcast.com app. I’d received a mass email from a company looking to sign on people who would fall for their easily exposed come-on.
This kind of junk litters my inbox fairly often. There was the “magazine” about successful women in business whose cover stories feature the women who were willing to pay for the editorial space (and the photo shoot). There was the never-heard-of-it podcast financed through the support of its featured guests. And there’s my all-time favorite: the emails from PR people who claim that editors at magazines I’ve written for are interested in my being quoted as an expert source in some upcoming article.
That’s not to say you’ll never receive a legitimate and legitimately interesting publicity offer in your own email inbox. But before you get too excited about these opportunities, give them a good critical once-over. Most won’t withstand the scrutiny.
Writers, what are some of the “offers” that land in your inbox these days?
What’s your vetting process?