As a freelance writer, I’ve been conducting a number of surveys lately for articles, presentations and marketing analyses. Here are a few of the lessons I’ve learned in the past two weeks.

1. Really take time to think surveys out
   When I first started writing these surveys, I included a lot of open-ended questions. When the survey was over, I had to figure out a way to quantify the responses to these questions so they’d be useful in the statistics. For example, I would give a text box for the answer to “What’s your favorite movie candy?” People would write in “Goobers” and “Gobers” and “Goebers.” Then I’d have to go back and determine what they meant and do the tabulations by hand. If I had simply created a list of typical movie candy for them to choose, most of the stats would be taken care of automatically. Then I could have created an “other” category to cover really unusual responses.
2. Watch early results and make modifications immediately
   A couple of times I did not provide enough choices for the participants. For example, I had five ranges of percentages, and the top range said “above 25 percent.” Everyone clicked that choice, which told me that the question was useless as it was. If I had modified the survey as soon as I saw 2-3 respondents’ answers, I would have had the chance to make the question mean something.
3. Use logic to make the survey relevant
   The survey service I use allows you to personalize surveys a bit. For example, if people respond that they don’t have a home office, I can let them skip the rest of the questions related to the home office instead of making them click “N/A” for each question.
4. Group questions by topic
   I took a customer service survey the other day, and the questions kept jumping back and forth from the site graphics to product satisfaction. I try to ask a series of questions on one topic before moving on to the next.
5. Tell respondents how long it will take to complete
   These days I don’t even start a survey if I don’t know how long it will take me. I really like those that show you percentage completed or number of questions. And don’t lie or guess about how long it will take. Send it out to someone and ask him or her to let you know how long it took to get through. You’d hate to get into the position of advertising a 45-minute sales presentation that actually takes three hours (time-share, anyone?).

Last fall I received a fairly personalized invitation to a special topic conference. At first I thought, “Oh, mass email,” and I almost deleted it. But it seemed like a unique invitation, so I called the coordinators.

I was told that I was indeed part of a special group of invitees to this special event. Wow, I thought. I’ve been singled out. I even called my mom.

I registered for the conference with pride, feeling like I was part of something important and exclusive. When I registered, I even had to use my email address to login.

Here we are a few months later, and it turns out that the conference is open to everyone. And a couple of the confirmations I received recently encouraged me to bring everyone.

In truth, I feel like I fell prey to a very good marketing technique. All of a sudden, I don’t feel special. I just feel duped into signing on early to the conference.

When I was an education director, we never tried this technique to increase attendance. The only thing that we would have done perhaps was to expand promotions to other groups if the attendance looked smaller than we hoped. I also think this may be similar to techniques we tried when our expo numbers seemed small — we offered a last-minute free expo hall pass to different groups to encourage foot traffic, even though we had been selling passes before the promo.

Is this an actual technique, or is it something that a conference host may fall back on if the response is not what they hoped? If it’s a ploy, I’m not really impressed.

To say it’s a nice day here in San Diego would be an insult to the crisp, clear sunshine that warms the gentle breeze and sifts through the open blinds in my new office to add an ambient light that needs no incandescent bulbs. It’s absolutely spectacular, and I’m one of the luckiest people I know to be enjoying an afternoon like this.

I’ve been sitting at my computer for the past 5.5 hours with occasional breaks to call D.J., do a few dishes from the open house last night and eat carrots in the sunshine on my front steps. I am filled with a sense of relief that I just finished two very large projects: a PowerPoint presentation and an article on word choice.

The PowerPoint is for a session I’m presenting as a plenary speaker to a group of chapter executives at a very large association convention on Saturday. The article will run in a national eNewsletter for communication directors.

Both projects are very important to increase my visibility, but neither of them are really paying gigs (though the national association is paying me a stipend and flying me out – woohoo!). That’s one of the reasons it was so hard for me to focus on finishing them. I’ve had a lot of hourly work lately, and it’s hard to put that aside to do projects that are more public relations.

But now I’ve finished the bulk of the work on both projects, and this Easter is officially a success.

I’m signing off now. D.J. invited me for a sunset dinner and a walk on the beach this evening. Enough computer time for the weekend!

It’s 8:10 p.m. on Friday night. About 90 minutes ago I was just getting out of the shower when a panicked client called. “Going out of town at the crack of dawn!” and “Have to have this finished!” and all that good stuff.

It’s chilly after my bath, so I put on my flannel PJs and pad barefoot to my office, which is in the front of the apartment. The blinds are a little open, and my neighbors keep walking by. The guys ignore me at first, then they wave a little. I’m perhaps 15 years older than they are, and I’m not at all concerned about them being peeping toms, especially since there’s nothing to peep at with me in these big old pajamas.

They’re traipsing back and forth with a couch they’re moving into their apartment upstairs, and I’m working away. It’s dark now, but you can see me with the glow of the computer. A few minutes later, THEY KNOCK.

A little stunned, I sit there for a second. There are three guys right there on the porch. Did they really want me to come to the door in my PJs? I answer the door, still in my PJs. “Hey, umm. You know us writing chicks who work at home… we always work in our PJs,” I blurt. “And here I am alright, writing away in my PJs!”

I figure they’ll be a little embarrassed and …. well.. I had no idea what they wanted, frankly. I figured they’d ask and run, scared of the crazy writer woman in her PJs!

But no! They start chatting, like I’m fully dressed or something! “Yes, we’re coming to your open house,” one says. “This is my friend, and we’re headed out,” the other informs me. And, stupid me, I start chatting back! I actually turn on the light in my office to let them see my new curtains, which I bought today. And they poke their heads into my office and look around and talk about their decor in comparison to mine. Amazing! I’m still in my PJs! I’m wrapping my crossed arms around my chest like I’m wearing a straight jacket, and I’m trying to stretch one hand up to my head to push my glasses back on my nose and mash my hair down.

This is hilarious! Do they not know I’m standing here in my pajamas with a wet head and a mewing cat at my feet at 8 p.m. on a Friday night? Am I the only one who thinks I should go put on a robe or go get a life or stop looking so much like crazy writer/cat lady?

They wanted to ask me if they could keep the couch on the porch in front of my apartment for the night because the couch has been saturated with cigarette smoke for a decade, it seems. Who the heck cares, I’m thinking…. I’m in my blanking PJs! I’m almost 40, pudgy, slightly creepy to be working in the dark like this, talking kinda fast because I’m so nervous; and I’m wearing really large white flannel pajamas that say “warm milk” and “a nice up of tea” and “sweet dreams.” Does no one else see the humor here????

Ok, now that I write this all out, it doesn’t sound so funny. In fact, it may not be funny at all. My new neighbors are amazingly nice, and they obviously feel comfortable saying hi, which I love. But I was standing here the whole time laughing hysterically inside, knowing deep in my soul that this may be the life I’m destined to live. I’m definitely a crazy writer/cat lady in the making, living in a big old house with echoing halls and creaky floorboards that match my creaky knees.

And I also kept thinking that my mother would ground me for entertaining visitors while wearing my PJs.

My inner voice: Yep, Ziesenis. You need to get out more.