When Susan Gunelius offered us another copy of her awesome book “Kickass Copywriter in 10 Easy Steps” to give away, I decided to make it a fun contest. We work hard each day. Why work hard to win something cool? I also wanted the contest to be something we could all share and enjoy here rather than have you send something to my email account. Finally, I wanted it to be something even those who aren’t entering can enjoy….and here’s the result.
The Freelance Writing Job limerick contest.
Are you a poet and you don’t know it? Do you enjoy seeing what words you can get to rhyme with “Nantucket?” If so, you won’t want to miss this. I only have three rules:
- Keep in clean (We can live with PG)
- Keep it respectful
- Keep it on the topic of freelance writng
If you curse or use other vulgarity, or if you bash another person or service, your entry will be disqualified. Otherwise, the sky is the limit.
Enter as many times as you like and let your creativity shine through. The contest will close one week from today on April 8th. Judges will include the FWJ team and, we’ll also throw out the vote to our Facebook group and Twitter communities.
Here’s one to get you started:
There once was a writer from Jersey
For jobs she was very thirsty
She started a blog
It lifted the fog
And now she’s at no one’s mercy
Yeah OK, I’m not a poet, but at least I gave it a shot. Why don’t you try too? Ah heck, I’m feeling generous. The winner will not only receive a copy of “Kickass Copywriting” but I’ll throw in $50 for the limerick that makes us laugh the hardest.
How can you refuse?
Not on the topic of freelance writing but an ode to Deb:
There was a young writer of fame
Who got tired of folks mangling her name.
“It’s Ng, not En-jee.”
She’d utter most fiercely,
Which was odd, ‘cos she’s usually quite tame!
OK, now i”m off to see what else I can come up with.
There once was a F, a W, and a J,
That referred to a blog with jobs that would pay.
Its colors were rather eclectic,
So Deb decided on something less electric,
And now I want to drink coffee all day!
At his desk sat a writer named Boris
Whose mind was vernacular chorus
But when the Oxford he sought
Had already been bought
He settled for Roget’s Thesaurus
Here sits Kathy with quite the knack
For making her keyboard go clickety-clack!
Things always look grim
when she hits 200wpm
and her spacebar shatters with a crack!
He sat there on the bench most contrary
His voice boomed so as to carry
With each breath came a shout
As he let his opinion out
On this Potter known as Harry.
His parents named him Hans Schecter
And in truth he looked like a spectre
But without seeing what you done
with the writing assignment you were on
You set off his bad grammar detector!
A the table there sat a lad perchance
who had decided to write freelance
And when they asked him why
He just rolled his eyes
“‘Cause to work I won’t have to wear pants!”
They sat in the same spot each day
Heads bent as if to pray
They looked and they stared
at the pages they bared
that had been written by Roget.
Nouns, pronouns, and adjectives,
Adverbs, Verbs and Expletives,
He cried with a start
I’d rather swim with sharks
than have the headaches punctuation gives.
He was boisterous chap named Nate,
Who wrote of things good and great,
But to his chagrin
whatever he turned in
always came back marked as late.
I sat at my desk for some writing
but Facebook posts were inviting.
I clicked on a link;
My day’s down the sink
and my night? Well, not too exciting.
There was a young writer who’d type
`bout computers she said “whats the hype?!”
So she’d hunt, and she’d peck
Til she said WHAT THE HECK?!
And she ordered a laptop on Skype!
Now she’s writing much more than the past
Emailing stories and articles – so fast!
Til her laptop takes a fall-
and she loses it ALL!
Now she’s back to her typewriter that LASTS!
His wife looked and asked “How goes?”
His reply was “Heaven only knows”
It was perfectly clear
He was not Shakespeare
For his weakness was his prose.
There once was an editor from Nantucket
Who loved to fill the bit bucket
He wielded that red pen
with a wide merciless grin
and said “Oh, you’re by line, I struck it!”
For freelance success you must query
Over many word choices you’ll tarry
If the aim of that pitch
Is the editor’s niche,
You’ll land a contract and be merry!
I gave up my day job to write
and I know it sounds terribly trite
but writing by day
just isn’t my way
so I’m penning my prose late at night.
I fear I won’t make my deadline.
Oh where will I find extra time?
The words just won’t come,
And the day’s almost done.
Made it! It’s oh so sublime.
I get freelance ideas in the shower
The water gives my brain power
So I stay till I’m ruined
And nearly a prune
Yikes! My water is billed by the hour!
I’m a freelance writer who wakes up at noon,
I write a lot of stuff under the shine of the moon,
And that’s just the thing
That lets me buy all my bling
Which will surely get all the pretty girls to swoon.
.-= Michael Kwan´s last blog ..My Make Money Online Book Hits One Million Pre-Orders on Amazon =-.
The 101 keys stare back at me all day
There’s F of course, and W and J
And that’s how it goes
Because they live on different rows
And writing is how I get y pay.
Style is the goal of a writer
We work to make our prose tighter
A penchant for flair,
Makes our words dance on air,
And our editors say “Quite a sighter!”
sometime tis I who actually writes
sometimes it be my wee little daughter
clients dont know what is which
so I’m happy to let her potter
i set up two tables in my home office
one for my desk and one for her doodles
when I look back at my notes
I cant tell my stuff from toodles’
late in the afternoon we sit together
mother and daughter at work et al
we have a snack and gossip a bit
tis the best watercooler of all
🙂
.-= Salma Jafri´s last blog ..Part III: How to Write a Winning Proposal on Elance – Top 10 Tips =-.
My muse has taken a vacation
Leaving me without inspiration.
And try as I might
I just cannot write
My mind’s in a state of stagnation.
.-= Sharon Hurley Hall´s last blog ..Stop Multitasking from Killing Your Productivity =-.
She’s a freelancer Jane Doe
Her only companion is a cup of joe
Well, okay, at (rare) times she makes typos
But words never are her foes
And guess what, she’s even in for NanoWriMo
There was an aspiring writer
Clueless, jumping down the water
Wanting to be a freelancer
Her life doesn’t always get easier
But she, ironically, is happier
Great entries so far! What a fun contest idea, Deb!
.-= Susan Gunelius´s last blog ..The Ultimate Brand Champion – Hugh Hefner =-.
My deadline is here, what a drag,
I’m becoming a grumpy old hag,
My thinker’s all thunk,
Get me outta this funk
‘Fore my rep. takes a leap off a crag!
I woke up one morning quite bleary
About to write letters of query
I got writer’s block
I had to take stock
And came to this site for some theory!
“Be productive this morning!” I say
“Do your writing, and don’t stop to play!
First I’ll just take a look
Through Twitter and Facebook…
Hey wait, where went the rest of the day?”
There once was a writer in BC
Who believed freelancing was easy
She got quite a shock
Suffered writer’s block
Now cold calling makes her quite queasy!
My writing is terrifically neat
My knowledge of English can’t be beat
I’ve got great bylines
I’m good with deadlines!
If only I had deadlines to meet…
They always say, “write what you know,”
But frankly, that just doesn’t go.
I’m a jack-of-all-trades,
With laziness in spades,
And no expertise I can show. 🙁
My thoughts are like vapor
‘Til my pen meets the paper.
Stirred and stoked,
New ideas are provoked
And I’m off on a marvelous caper.
Oh why am I writing this ditty?
I really must be off my liddy.
I’ve stories to write,
but try as I might,
The damn limerick’s controlling my witty!
There once was an Everyday Poet
who said, “I write well; let me show it.”
Her lance—like her fee
and her spirit—were free,
so soon she went broke, don’t you know it?
There once was a greedy little girl
who wanted all of the money in the world
She started an illegal blog
Stealing money from all
Now in jail and extending her toil
There once was a guy named Pat
He was really fat
He went on a diet
and became anorexic
Now he’s a paramedic
(who writes freelance articles on the side)
A scribbler from Ulan Bator
Said, “Writing is really a bore!
My work is the peak
Of perfection unique,
But nobody reads any more.”
A keen freelance writer, Tim Tapers,
Sent the same piece to twenty-five papers;
They wanted “exclusive,”
Became most abusive,
Thus ending his freelancing capers.
There once was writer for DS.
Who got tired of his CEs’ “distress”.
So he left the site.
To avoid this plight.
And now he earns much less. What a mess!
(^Note: I actually wanted to use BS for the last word in line 2, but it’s considered vulgar in the online dictioanry, so I replaced it for the contest.)
2nd variation:
There once was writer for DS.
Who got tired of his CEs’ “distress”.
So he left like a fool,
Joined the writing cess pool.
And now he earns much less. What a mess!
There twice was a writer who freelanced.
The first time he quit, his affianced
insisted he do.
Bad clients (time two)
showed him how, with his free lance, to be lanced.
.-= Jo Lightfoot´s last blog ..Purple Prose and Poetry =-.
There once was a writer named Cory
Who decided to write a short story
From there she progressed
To Wild tales of the West
And now she is covered in glory.
A speaker who hailed from New York
About writing was going to talk
He set up his board
A whiskey he poured
And said ‘Cheers! I’ve forgotten the chalk.’
For a freelance St. Pat’s job, on Skype,
I gave the editor my hype
When he appeared on my screen
All Leprechaun green
I said, “Sorry, you’re not my type!”
I troll the net daily for work
To find freelancing jobs that lurk
But waiting each day
Are jobs that don’t pay
Money would sure be a perk!
There once was a limerick pig
Who decided she liked lemon figs
She wrote for newspapers
About her new capers
And now does a mean writing jig!
There once was a big, ugly goat.
Who lived under a nasty, green moat.
He ate bugs and grass
That were all made of brass.
Now his belly’s as big as a boat!
Did you ever see a green moon?
It can make you respond like a loon.
The beams that it shoots
Knocks you out of your boots
And then makes you eat worms with a spoon.
Her garden is filled with big flowers
That blossom and bloom every hour
She feeds them real beef
For each tiny new leaf
Is a sign of her gardening power!
Writing is something you do
When you can’t stop and make a good stew.
So a cookbook you’ll read
At the pace of light speed
To show others that you can cook too!
There once was a guy who would write
Articles all day and all night
Then came his break
When an assignment he did take
Let him tell us shed building just right
The best thing about working in the world of freelance
Is the freedom to write while wearing pajama pants
Grab a comfy chair
No matter how messy your hair
And let the words flow from you while in a trance.
.-= Anna Papachristos´s last blog ..The Traditional ‘Drive Safely’ Holiday Disclaimer =-.
A writer got stuck on a thought
No answers from ‘courses’ he bought
He was about to give up
When he looked at his pup
Who told him the words that he sought
I’m surrounded by people who think I’m a fool
At my laptop, nearly ready to drool
They don’t see the point
“Why do you write for that joint
When flipping burgers is so cool”
I freelance near my dog for ideas
But all I get is fle-ahs
And then a flea bath
Which incurs my rath
And any work done? Oh, Ple-ahse
Wherever I freelance I know
That I can work fast or slow
Coffee shop or the mall
Winter, summer, or fall
I spring into action and go
Camping with my netbook I’m set
To do my best freelancing yet
Though mosquitos have bitten
My article’s written
Now I itch for the payment I’ll get!
When stumped for a word I’m no quitter.
And never would one call me bitter.
For a writer I am,
But I’m caught in a jam,
Now limericks my floor do litter!
There once was a young woman with a mighty pen,
Who said, ‘Writing is a state of Zen.
Even with three cats and three dogs,
There is still time for inspiration and blogs. –
Thanks to a hefty dose of meditation and drinks in the den!’
You should realize my lance is not free,
And for writing I must charge a fee.
It’s by meeting your deadlines
I keep off the breadlines,
So please pay your part-time employee.
Among a diverse clientele,
My skill set’s not too hard a sell;
For while some demand more
Than simple WORD lore,
Most are just glad I can spell.
From project to project I go;
Some flash by, others lag in slo-mo.
But they all share one trait:
If I finish too late,
I get docked a good part of my dough.
They say it is a ‘giveaway’
if only I write the correct words today…
I’m going to make it short and fun
then they’ll write me that I’ve won!
I came to see
and take a look…
Yep, it’s real,
I could win a book!!
Making you laugh
to win a book?
Does taking the money
make me a crook?
For those people who ask what I do
I’m a freelance writer – it’s true
I write for a living
I’m past my misgivings
Though sometimes the pay can be poo
.-= Liza Rosenberg´s last blog ..Glass of Wine =-.
there once was a girl from B-more
who wrote til her fingers were sore,
poems for pennies
saved until Bennies
now she too old to care anymore.
.-= jody´s last blog ..the magnolia blossoms =-.
This writing’s a bit of a llama,
Not a life of great riches and drama.
But who cares if it’s quaint
and Bruce Willis it ain’t,
I still get to work in pajamas!
===
There once was a Vancouver writer
Who thought that her clients denied her
Like a tenacious pup
She’ll never give up
And she’s sure her future’s much brighter!
===
A writer who’s terribly meek
Is seeking all writing jobs geek
But the line seems to be,
“Games are fun, work for free!”
So the picture’s a little bit bleak.
===
Freelance Writing Gigs is the best
With great useful pointers it’s blessed
I’m not trying to flatter
(if I did, would it matter?)
And without it, my career would be messed!
.-= Michelle C.´s last blog ..Sample Travel Article: Akihabara =-.
Write a Love Song Stupid(written in 1976 in my creative writing class at SHS).
First Row, First Seat, Steve Tennyson;
One of a kind, definately not a full house,
Second Row, First Seat, Sir Donald Scarborough,
An Idiot by nature but not bad for a louse.
Second Row. Second Seat, Vacant,
Died 1971, Resurrected 1973, Re-died 1975.
Second Row, Third Seat, Tim Capps;
The Lord Worketh in mysterious ways.
Third Row, First Seat, Lydia Hammessley;
One of Don’s Friends; lucky to be alive.
3rd,4th and 5th Rows, Depending on her mood.
June Jacobsen;
Friend and constant companion of the lowly leech.
Fourth Row, First Seat, Julie (Vocal) Perrill;
A constant reminder of our Freedom of Speech.
Fourth Row, Third Seat, Nancy Brawner;
Does your mother still drive the beer truck?
Third Row, Third seat, Trudy Raines:
Will ya’ please shut up and drive?!
Fifth Row, First Seat, Ann Matney;
You themll tho nithe.
And who leads this misplaced psychiatric ward?
Dr. Garrett we presume?
Write a love song stupid!
.-= julie ´s last blog ..Fond Memories Pet Cemetary and Cremation, "They Are Gone, But Not Forgotten"! =-.
Out of options, fed up, and tense,
Despite conventional sense,
I started a blog,
Gave deadbeats a flog,
Lashed them with my irreverence.
.-= Irreverent Freelancer´s last blog ..The Ultimate Get-a-Clue Freelance Request for the Week of April 5, 2010 =-.
There once was a writer-to-be
Who did not know her A from her E
And try as she might
She ignored copyright
So now she does one year to three.
.-= Tim Kissane´s last blog ..Happy Document Freedom Day =-.
There once was a writer named Brock
Who produced the lamest of schlock
Though he wrote of composers
His queries were dozers
To rejection, he sniffed, “I’ll be Bach!”
You can tell by the words that I key.
I’m more than well worth my fee.
The words that I craft
scream excellence, from first to last draft,
And hiring me would make your life so very easy.
I’m joining the rhyme bacchanalia
With no thought of terrible failure.
But then, if I win,
Will it cause Deb chagrin?
The prize must be shipped to Australia.
_________________________________________
I know it’s not much, at first glance;
And I started out kinda by chance.
But now I’m on fire
As a pen out for hire
In my jammies I love to freelance!
Here I sit in my den,
before me lies paper and pen
I brainstorm all day
on how to get paid
for the pieces completed
that lay, undefeated
fear of rejection
causes reflection
and fear of fame
drives one insane
Me I pray for
a brighter day
When I submit
to the freelance life
finally admit
that I am it’s wife
Published pay
the golden day
I am Rita, and I’m a writer
With my words, I am a fighter
If you’re dumb
You’d better run
Especially if your name is Tiger
.-= Rita Riter´s last blog ..Celebrity Slap: April *something* Edition =-.
What I hate most about subcontracting
Is being forced into redacting
Things like touring in France
As a business expense.
(Oh, those taxmen can be so exacting!)
With my dtp and enough time,
The most villainous prose starts to shine;
And all English that’s rough,
Under my loving buff
Will receive the top mark, grade A prime.
Instead of one boss, I’ve a horde,
And am treated by each like her ward.
While some don’t have any,
I’ve much more than plenty
To prompt me to fall on my sword.
There was once a girl from New Haven,
Whom many considered a lyrical maven,
One day she was driving her father’s red Chevy;
On the back a bumper sticker read Bush-Cheney,
Word got out, and rejected was her application to the Nation.
“A Writer for Hire” — that’s my trade.
Of blood, sweat and tears, I have made
my very life’s ink—
but freedom, I think,
is worth all the dues that I’ve paid.
.-= Jo Lightfoot´s last blog ..Intimations of Mortality =-.
This freelance thing’s not just a lark,
Though at times it may seem like malark(-ey).
I’m writing, I swear!
But it’s sunny out there,
So I took all my work to the park.
Writers on a writing spree,
Out to find their freelance fee.
Sending stories or poems,
From abroad or at home,
Especially if entry is free!
I am a freelance writer – oh how I love to write
Stringing words together, morning, noon and night
It took me quite a while, to give this path a go
Afraid I’d never make it, and that they’d all say no
I started very slowly, beginning with a blog
Years of dreary office work had left me in a fog
I wanted to create; I needed something more
To talk about my work, and not sound like a bore
It’s now a few years later; I’ve amassed a bunch of clips
Some are just a tad mundane, while others – quite a trip
From politics to hummus – sometimes they overlap
Perhaps you’ll disagree with me, but please don’t say it’s crap
As things stand right now, I’ve got some time to fill
Peruse the stuff I’ve written – I might just fit your bill
My writing’s rather good, or so some people say
I’d love to do some work for you – but only if you pay
.-= Liza Rosenberg´s last blog ..Glass of Wine =-.
There once was a writer from Boston,
Who fancied herself a Jane Austen.
She wrote words for free,
While riding the T,
Then one day she got paid – it was awesome.
I spend hours a day online
Trying to find writing jobs divine
They want to pay me in peanuts
They must think I may be nuts
$1 for 500 words, here’s your sign
My keyboard keys I do poke
My ego the employers do stroke
Your writing’s the best we have seen
Your copy is fun and so clean
By the way, there’e no money, we’re broke
A young man once thought he could write
But what poured forth was often quite trite
He could find no jobs in his style
He searched for a long country mile
I’ll just blog, it can’t be hard right?
A man said he’d pay me for writing
I found the idea exciting
Five dollars per post
Is better than most
So on his hook I am biting
For many, writing’s a hobby
A profession they often do lobby
We write like mad
For listings t’be had
And pray we get the job-by
Writers are a unique breed
Motivated by love and by greed
We compete with eachother
But feel each is a brother
We’re one giant family indeed
Brock,
Red-faced moment. I submitted a limerick about “a writer named Brock”–a name chosen solely for its rhyme potential. So I’m reading the submissions and run across your name…
Totally unintentional, and absolutely nothing meant by it. (Unless of course, you write schlock about long-dead classical music composers, in which case, I’m psychic.) Don’t even know if my submission went through, because I don’t see it, but just in case…I’m innocent!
Here’s one I wrote years back re: the Ben Johnson gold medal/steroid scandal:
When he ran for us quick as a bunny
Our Olympian skies were all sunny
But then an MD
Analyzed his pee
Sic transit gloria mundi
================
As a writer who’s based in Toronna
I can find all the jobs that I wanna
But a penny a word
Is rather absurd –
You may write for that rate; I ain’t gonna!
There once was a blogger named John
Who had a laptop for writing upon
His power went out
And oh, what a shout
For all of his words, they were gone.
There once was a wannabe bloke
Whose writing was fat and baroque
Magazines concurred
That paying by the word
Would probably make them go broke.
There once was a fellow named Chance,
A ghostwriter who worked freelance.
He awoke in the night
With a terrible fright.
On You Tube he appeared sans pants!
There once was a fellow named Chance
Who only wore holey sweat pants.
He couldn’t land a job
‘Cause he dressed like a slob.
So Chance donned his pants to freelance!
A writer once circled an ad
For a gadget he wished he had.
He took freelance jobs
Advertised on blogs.
Now jobs pop up on his iPad!
There once was a slogan writer
Who taught herself to write tighter.
She wrote every day.
Hoped her boss would say,
“Your slogans couldn’t be lighter!”
A smart slogan writer takes notes
On products like soup, cars and boats.
She cuts words galore.
Uses no more than four.
And writes prose so light that it floats!
A woman once lived in a shoe.
Her kids made it seem like a zoo.
During naps and at night
She stole minutes to write
A freelance blog A Zoo with A View!
There once was a woman named Sue
Whose mood was unusually blue.
With sorry finances
She took freelance chances.
Now Sue pays her bills when they’re due!
There once was a writer whose spelling
Was bad to the point of it smelling.
Editors cried, “Jeeze!”
While spraying Febreze
In efforts to keep tears from welling.
I write and write and write
The future is looking quite bright
I am no slave to a wage
Thanks to the words on my page
But I hardly ever see the daylight
The words on my pages they do sing
This freelancing life is no fling
I write like there’s no tomorrow
To avoid a life of undue sorrow
To make a living is the hope I do cling
Let me write you a limerick
will mine be the one you pick
among them all
or will I fall
between the cracks like a beatnik
There once was a girl that was problematic
her life was quite dramatic
money she sought
for things that she bought
which cluttered up her attic
What do you need
to be freed
your hearts desire
is the fire
to exceed
There was a girl with many dreams
nothing was ever as it seemed it seems
She threw pennies in wells
wished upon stars that fell
How her eyes would gleam
Her head was in the clouds
she wouldn’t listen unless you were loud
money couldn’t buy her love
her inspiration came from above
She was all too proud
To fly first class
would be kick ass!
I need fifty more
to settle the score.
will this be pass?
There was a woman with children
that didn’t think she would sleep again
two under two
what will she do?
Grandma to the rescue, amen!
Does money make this world go round
where we, writers are bound?
to make sense
of our existence
in these words that we have found.
What is a limerick?
Is it a gimmick?
Words that rhyme
in five lines?
What makes you tick?
To fly first class
would be kick ass!
I need fifty more
to settle the score.
will this pass?
excuse me please omit be in last line. typo’s drive me mad!
It’s the last day to submit
what you writ
I procrastinate so
just let go
and you’ll find what fits
There was a girl
in this world
they said she can’t
but she wanted to enchant
her ideas swirled
There once was a writer named Stella
Who wanted to write a best seller
She got book and pen out
But she could not work out
A plot for both female and feller
There was a man who couldn’t decide.
With all these words came much pride.
Who has what it takes to win?
They’re all good. Is this a sin?
He laid down his head and cried.
At the computer I stare
awaiting approval I glare
if you only knew what this would mean
to read my words, to be seen as a human being
will you care
There is no limit to the sky
do you ever ask yourself why?
there is infinite possibilities
would you agree?
Do you dare to fly?
There was a girl who made you smile
She would travel miles and miles
nothing tied her down
in this imagination she wound
She promises that it’s worth your while
There once was a writer from Dallas
Who dreamed of life in a palace
But as freelancing goes
though to the grindstone was her nose
She lived instead on a pallet.
.-= Denise Grier´s last blog ..Places to Enter Free Sweepstakes =-.
dismiss all the insults
come on now we are adults
hold your head up high
do not cry
you will get results
if you just try
There was a girl who spent her days dwellling
about all her misfortunes and mispellings
then she had a thought
to give it all she got
from then on she never stopped trying
The Limerick Contest has ended
My limericks all I have sended
But I’ve seen not a note
’bout what everyone wrote
To where has the Kick-Ass book wended?
Im typing with bad ear ache
My heads banging its not a fake
Cotton buds are a no no
In my lughole a no go
The buiscuit its starting to take