Showing posts with label writing lessons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing lessons. Show all posts

Lessons from the Shark Tank: A Few Last Words

Monday, August 8, 2022

 

Here are a few other lessons I learned from Shark Tank.

  • Don’t hold out for perfection. One woman lost a deal for her all-natural kosher soups because she was worried about losing control of the quality if she contracted with a commercial kitchen to make and pack the soup. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t have the facilities to fill all her orders and the sharks didn’t think that building her own commercial kitchen was a viable option. If I remember correctly, the sharks felt she was heading toward bankruptcy because she wasn’t willing to settle for anything less than perfection.

If I refused to submit my manuscripts to editors and agents until they were perfect, they would never leave my office. Yes, I want to get them as close to perfection as I can, but at some point, the time I spend revising has diminishing returns. That’s when I stop tinkering and send the manuscript off.

  • Don’t overvalue yourself and walk away from needed help. If someone comes on the show asking for a $100,000 investment for 5% of their company, that means they value the company at $2 million ($100,000 X 20). As professional investors, the sharks are experts at valuation, and they have a much lower one. Some participants negotiate and give up a larger share, lowering their valuation in exchange for the investment. Others refuse to adjust their figures to match those of the experts and walk away from help they desperately need to keep their companies going.

Writers act the same way when they ignore suggestions from critique partners. Notice that I said ignore, not reject. Some suggestions should be rejected, but only after thinking them through. Years ago a member of my critique group frequently criticized the stories I was writing for the Christian market. My knee-jerk reaction was, “you’re not my target audience.” But when I thought about it more, I realized that I was missing out on the opportunity to draw in a larger audience. Often a small change made a big difference without losing the impact of the story. If I had gone with my first reaction, I would have lost that opportunity to improve.

  • Arrogance gets you nowhere. One participant had a patented wine glass—with the wine included—that several sharks wanted. He had been on the show before and Mr. Wonderful had offered him a deal with the idea of licensing the product, but the participant turned it down. When I watched, he had returned to the show because (if I remember correctly) he didn’t have the funds to produce the inventory he needed for his own sales. Kevin still wanted the product and one or two of the other sharks were willing to join the deal, but their valuation was significantly lower than the patent owner’s valuation. He left the room to call a mentor who was successful in the beer business, and that person apparently agreed with the participant’s valuation rather than with the valuation placed on it by the sharks. When Mr. Wonderful asked if the mentor had invested anything in the company the participant said no, that a good advisor must be disinterested. That position is contrary to what the sharks have repeatedly said. The very arrogant participant basically thumbed his nose at the sharks and walked out without a deal. Personally, I'm not sure that wasn’t his game plan to begin with, and I wouldn’t be surprised if his arrogance sent the company into bankruptcy.

Arrogance also turns readers off. So if you want to attract them, be humble.

  • Be honest. I’m pretty sure that Shark Tank isn’t scripted, and I believe them when they say the sharks make their own decisions and invest their own money. But that doesn’t mean the words “you have a deal” are binding. As good business-people, the sharks would naturally check out the claims made on the show before writing a check. Someone who misrepresents his or her product or sales will end up with a lost deal and a bad reputation

Research is also an important part of credible writing, even if it’s fantasy. If something doesn’t ring true, readers won’t pick up the next book by that same author.

Now that you know more about Shark Tank, don’t forget the lessons learned.


Lessons from Jury Duty

Monday, July 6, 2020


I like to look for writing lessons everywhere I go. So when I was called in for jury duty on Wednesday, I took advantage of the opportunity to learn from the experience.
Some quick background. I was summoned for what was the first jury trial in the county since March. They required everyone to wear masks, moved the voir dire (the questioning of potential jurors) to a room large enough for social distancing, and took some other precautions. Overall, they did a nice job of trying to protect us from the virus.
The case required seven jurors (six regular and one alternate) and I was in position number 14, so even though the judge and attorneys dismissed five people, they never got to me. They probably would have dismissed me, too, since most lawyers don’t like having other attorney on their juries. I did have one or two colleagues who were accepted, but that’s not common.
Did I want to serve on the case? I had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, I’ve never sat on a jury and it might have been an interesting, or at least an educational, experience. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure I would have been bored with the evidence and the arguments. Back in the late 80s or early 90s, I was on a roster of attorneys who arbitrated certain civil cases for the court system in Cook County, Illinois. Most of those cases were automobile accidents where the primary issue was whether the plaintiff was exaggerating his or her damages, and Wednesday’s case sounded just like them.
But even though all I got to observe was the voir dire of the people who were chosen (or rejected) for the jury, I did notice several lessons about writing. (Some of them are a bit of a stretch, but humor me.) Here they are.
1.     The educational video about jurors’ responsibilities said that jurors are not supposed to talk about the case until it is over. I’m pretty sure that didn’t apply to those of us who never got to hear any of the evidence, but even if it did, the case will be over before this posts. And once it is over, even what was said in the jury room loses its confidentiality.
Lesson: Timing is everything. As writers, we can’t keep every confidence until the end or we could quickly lose our readers. Even so, some information is best left to later to enhance the suspense.
2.     The attorneys in the case had very different approaches to voir dire. One relied on specific questions, while the other asked for a brief overview of each potential juror’s background and used an anecdote to gauge the individual’s feelings about damages. Some of the difference was based on personality, and some reflected the lawyers’ objectives created by their clients’ opposing positions. Although each attorney’s general approach is probably similar from case to case, the specific questions and the anecdote are likely to change with the situation.
Lesson: No two characters are alike, and even the same character changes his or her response based on the situation. If we don’t write these differences into our characters, they will be flat and boring.
3.     In Wednesday’s case, the defendant admitted liability, so the only issue was damages. That shortened the case considerably since most evidence about how the accident happened would be irrelevant. It also meant that the defendant didn’t have to testify, and she didn’t even come. Her absence might have been a foolish tactic or a brilliant one. Foolish because even though she wouldn’t be testifying, her presence would have personalized her. That usually brings the party some sympathy and can have a subtle effect on the jury. Or it may have been brilliant tactic if the defendant comes across as unlikeable even when just sitting there. But the point is, when the defendant admitted liability, she eliminated backstory that wasn’t relevant to the outcome.
Lesson: If you start your story too soon, you may lose your audience. Eliminate anything that your reader doesn’t need to know up front. Some backstory may be necessary but can often be woven in later on where it fits more easily.
4.     As mentioned above, the jury was filled before they got to me. They dismissed five potential jurors for various reasons and probably would have dismissed me, too. But that’s okay. Not every person is right for every jury.
Lesson: Just as not every person is right for every jury, not everyone is a potential reader for a particular book. Different people have different tastes, and an author can’t cater to all of them.
So wherever you find yourself, pay attention to what is going on around you.
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Unfortunately, my jury service wasn’t in the charming building in the photo. The courtrooms were moved in the 1970s and are now located in a more modern and starker complex. I don’t have a photo of the current courthouse, but it isn’t nearly as pretty, anyway.