Tip No. 6: Keeping Track of Your Output

Of the topics we’ll consider in this series of posts about writing and the writing life, this may well be the most personal, as it relates to individual notions of order, efficiency, data retention, time and space prioritization, and attitudes toward technology. At the same time, this is probably also the most mundane. Writers want to write; we don’t want to keep track of things. (At least, I don’t, and I have a feeling I’m more typical in this regard than not.)

Three Parts to the Issue
There are three parts to this issue: (1) research material; (2) material you produce while creating the project; and (3) the finished output. Each poses specific challenges in terms of archiving.

What To Do with Research Material?
Now that I’m considering this one, I don’t think I’m going to touch it in any detail. Whether to hang onto research material – books bought for the project, journals, web page printouts, etc. – has so many possible permutations that going down that path and all its byways could take us way too much time.

So I’ll just tell you generally what I do, in the order in which I do it.

• Any of the material that was borrowed from others is returned with a note of thanks and even (if the loan were significant enough and/or I kept the material too long for comfort) some special something I think the lender will enjoy (theater tickets, bottle of wine, whatever). Sometimes, clients will say that they don’t want the research material back but that they want you to hang onto it. If you have an archivist, hand it over to her or him. If you don’t, set up an accordion file, label it plainly, and put it in a special file drawer, used only for things with which clients have entrusted you. NEVER throw this kind of stuff out. You will be surprised at how often it will come in handy, and not always for the reasons you may think at the outset.
• As for material that (1) I bought specifically for the project, (2) I know I’m unlikely ever to use again and (3) doesn’t appeal to me as a permanent addition to my personal library, I eBay it, donate it, or deaccess it in some other way.
• Any project material that may find use later in another professional undertaking goes either on the shelves of my professional library or is stored in a clearly labeled box and warehoused. I keep a master list of materials retained in this fashion.

Following this procedure makes me think about what’s left over, in a manner of speaking, and to find a happier home for at least some of the material. I probably keep more stuff than I should, thinking I may need it again, but at least this approach enables me to get rid of some material and to know where the rest of it is.

What To Do With Material Created During the Course of the Project?
This may be the trickiest part of the issue, for it is here that we consider the dreaded subject of REVISIONS. When I first began to consult in the corporate world, with writing a significant part of that occupation, I paid little attention to earlier versions of a piece. As clients and their subject matter experts provided me with input that resulted in changes to a particular piece, I tended simply to save the later version over the earlier so that the record of it survived only as a hard-copy printout.

Various frustrating experiences taught me to take a more-conservative approach, as follows:

• The project is logged in the usual way and given an identifier.
• I create a digital folder with that identifier as a name, and then file the folder under the client name.
• I then set up several subfolders to be filed under the identifier name as follows: (1) Client Parameters; (2) Research; (3) Text; (4) Images. There may be others as well, but most projects begin with just the four.
• Everything that I produce or receive for the project, whether the gif of an image, a one-line ad teaser or a 200-page research report is filed electronically under one of these subfolders.
• As I file this material in the subfolders, I date it and give it a descriptive name. For example, an image would be filed something like this: My Documents>Client Name>Project Identifier>Images>2009Aug01_NewHQBldg.
• When I begin to to generate interim written material, such as a summary of my understanding of the project parameters, it’s filed similar to this: My Documents>Client Name>Project Identifier>Client Parameters>2009Aug02_MyTake. If something makes me decide to revise that file, I don’t delete it, nor do I save over it. Rather, I re-save it in the same path but with the name: “2009Aug03_MyTake”, making whatever revisions are required to bring the file up to date.
• The same approach is followed with text material that I generate, e.g.: My Documents>Client Name>Project Identifier>Text>2009Aug05_VideoTreatment. If it becomes necessary to create a second treatment, again the file is saved in the same path but with a different date and (if necessary for clarity) some trigger word following “VideoTreatment” to remind me of which treatment this is. And so forth.

My aim is never to destroy or lose track of even the smallest piece of work I’ve done on a project. Memory’s too cheap to ration it. If you don’t have a large-enough primary server to keep all of this live, invest in one of those nifty super-fast desktop servers and dump it over. Just make sure you keep a list in the project file showing the current home of all that stuff.

The benefit of handling interim material in this way is that you don’t have to re-create anything when a client texts you in the middle of the night and says, “You know, I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I do like version #2 better – let’s go back to it.” You can also, should you ever need to, recreate the logic chain that led you through the entire project. (Let’s hope you never need to.)

What about the Final Output?
Okay, you’ve researched, you’ve strategized, you’ve teleconfereced and videoconferenced, written into the wee hours, negotiated approval, double-proofed at the printer’s, supervised postproduction, etc., etc., etc., and finally – there it is – OUTPUT.

This is a critical moment, for you will now be so ready to be done with it that all you want is to get out of there, preferably with empty hands. Before you go, however, whether physically or metaphorically, remember one thing – this is the easiest it will ever be for you to get any reasonable number of copies you want for your own purposes.

You may be asking why you’d want copies. Isn’t that somebody else’s job? Surely, you’re not expected to archive it as well?

Why You Want Some of the Final Output
Here are a few of the reasons why you want always to have on hand at least a handful of clean copies of every project’s final output:

• The client calls, reorders another 10,000, then adds, “And could you send over one from the first printing (impression, dubbing, etc.) right now? My boss has asked for one to take to a Board Meeting this afternoon, and I’ve let my last clean one get away.” How embarrassing do you think it’s going to be when you confess you don’t have one? How surprised (and not in a nice way) is the project manager going to be that you didn’t think enough of what you’d done to keep some for your own records? Not good, trust me.
• The client calls some months after the project’s completion, reminds you that the project isn’t proprietary and says they’d like to see it entered in some professional competitions. All competitions require – in addition to an entry form and explanation of the project and how it was executed – a clean copy of the final output. When you get this call, it is now some months past the time when the last of the original lot ordered has been distributed, and not only do you not have one, but neither does the client. At this point, you and/or the project manager are reduced to calling recipients and hoping that at least some have saved their copies (good luck with that). Again, not good.
• The project manager has resigned, retired, transferred or been downsized, and his/her boss (one of your biggest clients) wants to give the individual a nice going-away scrapbook of the best projects for which s/he was responsible. They have a budget (yippee!), and they expect you to be able to produce examples, immediately. What are you going to say? “No, we don’t keep examples of projects. I never want to see them again once they’re finished, I was too careless to think of it, it takes too much room, etc.”

Actually, unless you’re talking about lobby-sized installations, it doesn’t take too much room. Just buy the best book boxes you can find, label each with a client name and the initials DND (for DO NOT DESTROY). Each time you finish something for a client that has actual physical output, put at least ten to twenty copies (each in a protective envelope) in the box. On top of that layer, put a divider of corrugated board. To the label on the end of the book box, add the project number and name, together with completion date. If you don’t have a formal archive area (and if you do, the archivist probably did all of this already), stack the book boxes in an unobtrusive corner with some sort of decorative cover over them. Keep the ends with the labels lined up so that all you have to is to whip off the cover and all the contents are listed there in front of you.

Do It Your Way
Obviously, the above suggestions are merely that – suggestions based on ways of doing things that have worked for me. I tend to be a somewhat impatient, anal-retentive, CYA kind of person who often works on short deadlines and who DETESTS looking for something I’m not sure I even have anymore. If you’re not that way, wing it, or go some route in between.

The point is that each of us must establish some kind of system that gives us access, within our individual comfort zones, to the bits and bobs that make up our writing world. Trust me, it’s worth thinking about. You’ll be glad you did.

© 2009, Gail Hewitt. All rights reserved.

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