Eeny-meeny-miney-moe,
This is the story, don’t you know.
If I stop here before I should,
I’ll burn it just the same as wood.

Yep, that’s me, jingle writer. If you’ve ever seen the chick-flick “The Holiday,” you’ll recognize how it works for those who think in snippets. Trailers are a hoot to write. Think about how you’d write one for your favorite movie and you’ll understand how I work on stories running through my head.

I’m a snippet writer. I admit it. Back-cover blurbs are what I live for now. I do them fast, and I do them well. I don’t lack for inspiring material because I read something every time I open my eyes. Translating those visions into full-blown stories makes for the challenge.

Why do I think of my job as jingle writing when no music is needed? I suppose because it’s concise, intriguing and sticks in your head. That’s the whole purpose behind short blurbs of any kind.

Take flash fiction, for instance. It’s a story in as small a space as possible with all the parts intact. Difficult at best, near impossible to make unforgettable.

My secret to success? I have one set pattern that I always use, without fail. It all comes down to creating a series of small successes so that the final goal is reached through the completion of tasks (objectives,) with each writing task as a success in its own right.

Here’s how it works.

1. The first success comes when I finish a piece of work. Sometimes I can write all day without ever feeling pride about what I’ve written. Nevertheless, when that one piece comes along that makes me pause, reread it immediately, and find it good, poignant and worthwhile, pride demands action. Sending it to market via query is when I hit the ball in this game of words.

2. I receive an e-mail from an editor saying she wants to see my piece. I feel a soft glow inside begin to grow. I sigh that contented breath of accomplishment. I’ve stolen second base with that success.

3. Sending out the completed short story/article takes me to third base. (When this step is the first in the line of process for a particular publication, I’m ahead of the game already.)

4. I steal Home when that acceptance notification comes in. When I place a small story with a publication, I feel vindicated that I can do this job. I don’t actually do the dance, but I give out with a small cheer for the accomplishment.

*NOTE: If I receive a rejection for my query in Step 2, I look it over, perhaps revise it, and send it back out to the next market on my list of possibles.

I measure small successes only. The impossible-seeming successes are the ones that I’m not expecting in any form.

Take this recent incident, for instance:

Success #1: I sent to a magazine for writer’s guidelines. I couldn’t find any on its website. I asked if the publication accepted submissions from freelance writers. I also told the editor that I would like to submit an article and gave a two-sentence explanation of the subject. I thanked the lady and closed the e-mail.

Success #2: Within an hour, I had a response telling me that the editor had loved my pitch and would I please send the manuscript, complete with all things listed in the guidelines for which she’d sent a link.

*NOTE: Talk about a fast response. Shock registered in the brain, jaw dropped, and my ears began to ring. I looked around to see if anyone else was seeing what lay pulsing on my monitor. Fortunately for my reputation as a stolid character, I was alone at the time.

Sweat began popping out on my forehead, palms started dripping, ears kept ringing. I didn’t have word one on paper for that proposed article. And how could an inquiry with a two-sentence example possibly be considered a pitch?

Success #3: After nearly an hour of inordinate fussing and indecision, I pulled myself together enough to reply -- in a most professional manner -- to the editor and gave her a submission date for two days hence. That’s when I sat down to write the article.

Success #4: I beat the deadline by five hours.

Success #5: The editor loved it, with a couple of slight additions requested. I make those gladly and sit waiting for the final word on if those changes were sufficient. I then scrambled to get a photo of myself to submit for the bio. It’s a paying gig, too, which makes for more delight.

Are you still confused about those trailers I mentioned? I do those in my head as practice. And the back-cover blurbs? Those I really do write and they sometimes get submitted to the appropriate 100 word markets when open. It’s great practice for writing scenes in longer WIPs.

For me, it’s the background work that takes up more time than anything else. Marketing takes time, it’s true. Nevertheless, with the right mindset it can create endless possibilities for existing material. Looking for angles where I can use what I already have on hand saves time later.

Think of my writing those blurbs; five blurbs for the same book/story/research material -- each with a different take on the story, each targeting a different kind of reader. Until a year or so ago, I never realized just what those blurbs could do for a writer. Doing them well can make the mundane special. Doing them well can also lead to great queries and pitches.

I only discovered how well it works for pitches when that last editor requested my article. I guess the lesson sank into my brain very well.

Just call my future -- BLURBS R US!