July 2007

That Ten Percent
by Sue Lange
www.suelangetheauthor.com

Sue Lange's We, Robots was published by Aqueduct Press in March, 2007.

Way back when I first burst upon the world (in other words, after I graduated college), I did what every newly burster-upon-the-world does: I got a job. I don't remember too much about that first job, except that it was a job. One thing does stick in my mind, though. The day the Plant Manager sat me down. No idea what the circumstances—good or bad—were. I just remember the sitting down of me by the Plant Manager.

"Son," the Plant Manager said. He called everybody "Son." He had no idea who anybody was and I'm quite sure he didn't even know women worked for him. He just made out like everyone was his son. "Son," he said. "Let me tell you something about an organization."

"Okay," I said, trying hard to be the obedient son wondering about an organization. At least he wasn't giving fatherly advice on how a woman is a different kind of animal and you have to learn how to handle her.

"In every organization, only ten percent of the membership does the work to make that organization tick. It's not that they do all the work, but they do the things that make things happen. You want some advice?"

"Of course," I answered, actually wanting a raise, but figuring I should just shut up and take the advice because that was all I was likely to get from someone who had no idea who I was or how I got into his office and that uses the words "do" three times and "things" twice in one sentence.

"Make sure you're in that ten percent."

"I'll do my best, Sir," I answered. Don't you just know I was dying to say "Ma'am," but I didn't. Considering this was my first burst upon the world, I thought I'd tow the line for a while before getting all radical on his ass.

Suffice it to say, I've moved on from that first job and today am as far away from it in time and space as anybody whose first job was over twenty years ago. Many Plant Managers have come and gone from my life since then. Most of them have had occasion to call me "Son" and use the same words two and three times in a sentence. One even gave me advice on how to handle a woman. I've chosen to file most of that away in the same place I keep all the drivel I've come across in my life, like the plots of all the Saturday morning cartoons I watched as a child. However the haunting words bestowed upon me by that very first Plant Manager have stuck with me: "Make sure you're in that ten percent."

All of the many organizations I've been a part of since then, everything from the Mary Kay pyramid scheme to after work intramural volleyball leagues; the theatrical groups, four-man combos, happy hour gangs, ski weekend kaffee klatches, children's reading leagues at the library, community supported agriculture groups; they've all had that one thing in common: ten percent of the membership make things happen, turn wheels, move and shake.

Take the non-profit company I currently work for: IEEE Communications Society. We have about 20,000 members. How many of them are recognizable to the staff? About 2,000 you can bet. The remaining faceless 18,000 pay their dues, receive their monthly magazine, and are happy to list their membership on their resumes as the one benefit they receive.

The recognizable 2,000, the ones the staff recognize and regularly gossip about, are the heart and soul of the organization. They are the many editors of the various publications that push communications technology into the 22nd century. They are the royalty in the communications industry, or at least in our society: the president and vice pres, and so on. They are the board members, the organizers of events in Your Town. They go to meetings and discuss how the money should be spent and what services to bring to the membership, as if that membership actually deserved more than a subscription to a bleeding edge rag. They run the local chapters. They are the leaders in their field, not so much because of their own brilliant research, but because they schmooze themselves to recognition in their professional association. You can bet when their work lands in the slush pile, it gets more than a quick glance.

What does all that have to do with speculative fiction, women writers, Broad Universe, and you? Certainly writing for a scientific journal is not the same as writing fiction for a speculative fiction market, but name recognition goes a long way in both places, so take a hint.

Broad Universe is a small organization. We have roughly 200 members. The Mother Board consists of seven members. Who are the remaining thirteen that bring that important ten percent up to 20? That group of elite broads that make the Universe move and shake?

There's obviously room for more worker bees in our hive. Son, you need to be in the ten percent.

Broad Universe is poised to move on to the next level. We're ready to increase our numbers. We want to go critical. But we can't move forward unless we provide new services to attract those new members.

Wouldn't it be nice to have a table at most conventions instead of just one, or maybe if we're lucky, two? How about some regional support for authors? How about regional workshops? Maybe a publicity machine members could tap into when needed. Maybe BU could get into the publishing game itself and put out chapbooks, anthologies, CD-ROMs of members' work. Why can't we have a mentorship program where the really established writers help the mid-list writers and the mid-list writers help the newbies. Not just with workshops but true one-on-one critiquing or a sharing of the Rolodex perhaps. Can't we get some monthly podcasts of our members' work out there? Or hookups with established broadcasters? We need to link up with libraries, agents, publishers, research services, and anything else you members can think of. Who wouldn't join an organization that provided such services?

To provide these goodies, however, BU needs volunteers. People to act as regional contacts for their metropolitan area so that other members in their city are made aware of BU readings, signings, events, etc. Volunteers to do emailings, snail mailings, editing, internet posting, internet broadcasting, copywriting, graphic designing, shilling, advising, communicating, decision-making, pushing, advertising, coordinating, and cheering. In other words: BU needs you!

You say you're ready to volunteer. You're ready to go out and be the regional contact for your metropolitan area. You're ready to do mass emailings to inform the world of some Big Thing BU is doing. You're ready to come up with a web page design, or text for an ad to be placed in a serious magazine, or an idea for a contest to draw attention to our activities. You can organize an event, or do the publicity for it. Or you could maybe contact broadcasters of speculative fiction readings and set up an ongoing gig for members. Or you can collect information for the BU database to keep that updated. There are a thousand things that cost virtually nothing other than time and energy that would help build services for our membership. All we need is you!

We do not yet have a formal volunteer program. Currently the process we have entails calling for volunteers for specific events or projects or needs. You can find a list of current needs at the website (http://www.broaduniverse.org/projects.html). To increase our member services, however, we'd like to create a pool of volunteers ready to go whenever Grace needs help with a mailing, or Alyx needs someone to do research on a contact in the database, or somebody needs copy for an ad. We don't have a list of specific jobs yet. Before we can plan a particular project, we need to know we have the womanpower behind it.

If you'd like to get more involved with Broad Universe, or see it move forward, volunteer! Be sure to list skills or work you are willing to share with BU. If you're good at graphic design, list that. If you know HTML, list that. Conducting internet research (i.e., surfing), mailing, contacting people by phone, mail or email, writing (duh), editing, brainstorming on PR (or anything else for that matter), organizing, scheduling, reminding. These are all good skills to donate.

Unlike a day job, volunteering returns rewards in ways that are impossible to measure. Finding opportunities to network is perhaps the biggest one. It also may be the most important thing you can do to move your career forward. If I hadn't volunteered to put a program together with Nancy Jane Moore, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to contact her publisher, Timmi Duchamp. Through that association, I was afforded a chance to send a manuscript for a novella to Ms. Duchamp. Timmi has just recently published that novella of mine, We, Robots. I'm not saying that volunteering for BU will get you published no questions asked. You still have to do all the work that it takes to be a half-way decent scribbler as well as the submission work. However, you do get the chance to meet people in the industry and some of those meetings can lead to publication.

Volunteering is much less painful than sending out stories to probable rejection. You certainly can't bypass that process, but at some point, someone is actually going to ask you for something because they like you and your professional attitude. You will always face the slush pile, but imagine if someone recognizes your name sitting there in all that slush. Just the thought makes me quiver.

So jump in, Son, join that ten percent. The water's fine.

To volunteer, send your name and list of skills to info(at)broaduniverse.org.