A few days ago, I read somewhere I can no longer find that the average person can’t efficiently manage more than three open projects. To be honest, I was very surprised by this number; I really thought it would be more than that. Most people I know who freelance seem to carry more than that at once, although I haven’t really done an official poll or anything.

However, this piece of information did encourage me to get more organised about an overview of the projects I am juggling, and so I went out in search of some project management systems because Post It Notes are just not cutting it anymore. I looked at Basecamp and Project Place but ultimately settled on Walter Wynn’s suggestion of Teamwork. (Everyone uses Basecamp, and while I’m sure there’s a reason for that and it is jolly nice, I like to throw money out of the mainstream every now and then.)

So far I am delighted with Teamwork; it’s really easy to use, it has everything I want, and when I sent in a suggestion about how they could improve their conversions from their Features Tour, I got back a very nice and responsive email right away. The later discovery that Teamwork is based right here in Cork, meaning I can go round and break their kneecaps if they go out of business and take all my projects with them, was just a nice bonus on top of a great product.

I started entering all my projects, and nobody was more surprised than me to find out that I currently have no less than 15 open gigs going. Except possibly the two clients who I had forgotten about entirely, which if nothing else points out how very, very badly I need to plug into a project management system. Also how much I need to apologise to them, pull my finger out, and deeply discount their invoices.

Even before today’s headcount and dropped client fiasco though, I had begun to grasp that this workload isn’t particularly sustainable. I mean sure, you can survive on four hours of sleep per night for a week or so, but after that you really can’t remember anything, let alone produce anything. Sleep: it does a body good.

So for the past few weeks I have been working with two entirely fabulous people I am incredibly lucky to know. I am still doing 100% of the design work, but a lot of the actual CSS and XHTMLing has gone out to my new CSS Overlord Guillermo Moreno, who quite frankly kicks ass all over town. He’s going to be a superstar when he grows up. (At this point, however, I still worry about keeping him up past his bedtime.)

My very talented friend Katherine Nolan has also been doing the heavy lifting on the e-commerce side of things. We actually met on a forum for our favourite shopping cart software almost 10 years ago, but at this point, I’m about 5 versions behind and she is much better equipped to hack sort out the cart system than I am. (She also happens to be the world’s leading expert on Coranto, which can be very handy.)

So hopefully in the next week or two, things will calm down here and some of the decks will be cleared. It is frankly very hard for me to to let go of any part of what I do because I am a complete and total control freak when it comes to work, but I couldn’t have put any of this stuff in safer hands and I’m really pleased with the work that’s come out of these projects.

So there you go: no woman is an island, and 15 projects is too many. Who knew?

So a couple of weeks ago I lost my phone, and while I enjoyed the momentary respite afforded by having nobody ring me, this is 2008 and a girl needs a phone. Over the course of a few retail trips, I had pretty much convinced myself to drop €400 on an iPhone, mostly just because I thought I should have one. But the iPhone, for all its wonders, has one major failing: it does not come in pink.

Which more or less explains why I instead walked out of The Carphone Warehouse with a Sony Ericson W580i Walkman™ Phone that cost, after trading in an old phone and signing up for the Meteor calling plan I wanted anyway, a grand total of €29. (Please note: I also have a new number - 085 702 8212.)

It is very, very pink. The front is pink. The back is pink. Slide it open, and the rear slide panel is practically fuchsia and glitters like a Barbie disco ball. The earbuds, too, are pink, as is the mic jack.

But my absolute favourite part is when you open it up, it has little pink rhinestones in between the numbers:

This phone is, in short, every 9 year old girl’s telecommunications dream. Given that I actually was 9 years old when I got my very first Walkman back in 1981, I’m enjoying the retro flashback. Back then, they were approximately the size of a paperback, weighed as much as a small child, and used this old fashioned music recording device called a tape. If you shook or dropped it, it would skip. Nowadays, if I want to randomise my MP3 playlist on this thing, I can just shake my phone and it mixes everything up without missing a beat.

I absolutely loved it even before I found out that dude, MY PHONE HAS THE SIMS ON IT. Okay, so it’s a lightweight and kind of lame version, but whatever: Sims! I has them! On my phone!

So anyway, despite new computers, new laptops and even new houses, as far as I’m concerned this is the best 30 quid I’ve spent in a long, long time. Sadly, our love affair so far as been torrid but all too brief: the phone refuses to charge. So tomorrow we’re going back to hopefully get that sorted, which is obviously critical.

Not because I’m desperate to take anyone’s calls, but because my Sims are waiting for me.

Dear Internets:

I am completely willing to admit I do not know everything. I believe in taking advice on the things I am clueless about, usually from you and your pal Doctor Google. Foolhardy, possibly; but it’s always worked for me.

This year marks a transition for me from being part-time employee and part-time freelancer to being full-time self employed. It also marks the year in which we will, at some point, be applying for a mortgage. (Yes, I am 35 years old. No, I don’t own my own house. I’ve also lived in three countries in 10 years and been broke in all of them; give me a break.)

So while getting my financial ducks in a row is a high priority, the broader world of full-time freelance is also a bit of a mystery I hope to unravel with your help.

Things mama never told me about service providers:

• Where can I find an accountant or financial adviser in Cork to do my stuff and give me advice about setting aside enough money for taxes and paying PRSI and all that jazz?
• As my previous employer will no longer be paying my mobile bill, which I’ve never even seen, I need to know which provider and plan to go with. Hint: I like to talk. I do not believe SMS is a medium in which real adults can carry on real conversations. That said I really only use my mobile when traveling in Ireland (about once a month) but can rack up several hours in calls then.

Speaking of money, down to the nitty gritty:

I have no idea what market rates are in Ireland. I design sites, I code sites; I provide consulting and strategy for online marketing and positioning; I package and brand products; I write understandable web copy that reads like it comes from humans; I do site assessments, usability analysis, and user testing.

For all of these things, I have been charging a figure that is less than €50 an hour, except for usability testing - I charge test group costs plus the same hourly for that. The people who are paying me are telling me to charge more, and I know they’re right but I have don’t know what the right numbers are.

• What should I be charging for all of these various things?
• How can I keep costs accessible for people who have fun and interesting projects but low budgets? I often like those projects; they tend to refresh my creativity and I don’t want to price myself out of ever being offered them.
• If you’re booking clients months in advance, do you take a deposit now to block out the time for them at a future date? Usually I do 50% up front and 50% on delivery or go-live, depending, but getting 50% now for something I am not going to get to for three months seems a little dodgy.
• What do you do if you’re killing yourself to stay on top of a series of tight production schedules and a client doesn’t have their bits ready for their project’s agreed upon start date? My contracts state that if they can’t deliver their clearly articulated To Do list, delivery dates will be pushed accordingly, but what if you literally do not have room for slippage?

So, dear Internets, do you have any words of wisdom and experience for me? This is my year of Getting Things Done, and I’d like to do them right.

Yours, always,
Sabrina

Douglas Adams famously said “I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” While I am a huge DNA fan, I am also a sincere fan of the deadline. I usually work well under pressure, and there’s a kind of runner’s high you can replicate only at 3 AM after 27 cups of coffee and 300 fags and four hours of sleep.

Plus, let me tell you how much I’d rather get that buzz sitting on my arse than running it off.

For the past five days, I’ve been working on the kind of project that has a tendency to blow up in your face, and perversely, is the kind of project I really like. It was supposed to be a fairly benign but urgent redesign for a new client. The goal was to roll out something that looked better than the existing site as a stop-gap measure until everyone could get their heads around the forward planning required for a new content management system (CMS) implementation.

You know the kind of thing: Design new site. Create new template. Copy old text. Publish. Yawn.

But this was one of those projects where budgets, specs and limitations just went out the window, and everyone was happy to see them go because we were so excited by what we were producing. I got to do the things I’m actually really good, like overhauling copy, re-branding products, and saying things like

Having to type out web-enabled enterprise convergence solution is making me vomit.

The client got to exercise his sartorial aesthetic, and - oh the unmitigated joy! - kept asking me to take things out rather than put things in. You have no idea how rare that is - a ton of projects are characterised by well-meaning but misguided people saying things like “Can you make that bigger? And can you make that flash? And can we have menus that drop down and change color and maybe make sounds?” while I rock back and forth in a corner, trying to explain that 1998 has rung and wants its website back.

This was so much better than my worst nightmare, even if I did have to cram twice as many hours into the same number of days. It’s done, anyway, and should be out this week.

I can haz sleep, plz?

PS: You can totally tell my brain is fried when I make with the kitteh talk for two posts in a row. SRSLY.

Contrary to appearances, I am not actually dead. This is a bit disappointing, on account of the fact that I look fabulous in black and had planned to dress accordingly for my own funeral. On the plus side, I can put off that particular shopping trip, which is always a bonus.

On the minus side, it’s all gone to shit in the past week.

For a start, I have walking pneumonia or something, which is never going to be a barrel of monkey fun. Unless the monkeys are also smoking pot. I, however, am smoking menthols. Medicinally.

Second of all, I have insomnia brought on by working with clients across not one, not two, but three different time zones. My body is currently under the impression that I am 22, can pull all nighters for days without end, and am living in LA. Where it is midnight, and not 8 AM.

Finally, I have hit The Slump. This happens about once every two or three years. Normally when a client comes to me for a design, I get a picture in my head of how to bring their needs together under a cohesive design, sit down, and churn it out. The actual churning part can be very time consuming, but I am fortunate to have a high batting average in this, and usually get it right the first time.

Every once in a while, the picture never solidifies. I sit down, I open my graphics program, and get precisely nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Bupkis.

When this happens, it is horrifying. Particularly if you are my husband. Because unless you come bearing cigarettes, coffee or design inspiration, I pretty much just want to be left alone in my hell hole to quietly, repeatedly bang my head against the same wall. And even if you do come bearing design inspiration, I am very likely to tell you that your idea is terrible and COULD NOT POSSIBLY WORK and then perhaps cry until you go away.

So, I’ve been an exhausted, sick, frustrated, mean treat of a woman to live with for the week.

While I am prepared (and somewhat embarrassed) to admit that I occasionally fail in my professional capacity as a designer, I am at this point comforted by the fact that in this instance, it’s due to a really craptastic client brief. As in a non-existent one. I’m prepared to let myself call this one a case of “You gave me nothing, now it’s all I got.”

And as if the past week wasn’t enough, my husband will now divorce me for quoting U2 lyrics.

Dear LuckyOliver:

I’m very excited about 2008. I know our relationship is new, but we’re going to have a great time this year, I can already tell. I am really glad to have found you, especially since my bastard of an ex-boyfriend, iStock, has raised prices for the new year. (The cycle of abuse just never ends over there, I’m telling you.) I am so done with that, and so ready for a new gig with you.

Before we get too deeply involved however, we need to talk. Undoubtedly you are gorgeous and funny and I really dig you, but there are some issues that make me concerned about our longterm prospects. Normally I charge by the hour for what I’m happy to do for you for free, so I hope you’ll recognise how invested I am in our relationship and listen to what I have to say with an open mind.

For a start, I am concerned that your keyword morals are rather loose. I want to let you know that clean keywords are totally sexy and really put me in the mood to buy from you. In fact, polluted keywords are the single most frustrating barrier for a buyer searching for images. Clean keywords are potentially your greatest market differentiator, and now that you have a competitively large pool of images, potentially one of your greatest strength. For example, I found today’s black and white header image using the keyword letter. It is gorgeous. It is, however, clearly neither brown nor retro. Those keywords do not belong in the tags for that image.

In the same vein, I would also beg you to reserve the words isolated and object to images that are, in fact, isolated objects. This is a routine search most designers run 20,000 times a year (each), and your results are becoming worryingly muddy. This sunflower for example is beautifully isolated. These roses, while also beautiful, are in no way isolated but still come up in the search results.

The word object is of course more debatable, but in practical terms, everything on the planet is an object. If every image at Lucky Oliver is tagged as object, a critical search becomes meaningless. You and I both know that when designers use this term in a search, we are looking for isolated objects. This is a daily frustration in our relationship, and something I’d like you to work on. I’d be happy to help by flagging incorrect keywords, by the way, but you don’t let me do that.

Which brings me to my next point: sometimes you don’t seem to treat me with very much respect. As a buyer I’m not empowered to do very much in our relationship. When you and I go out on dates, I pay for the cinema tickets, the popcorn and the sodas, and yet you don’t allow me to give any feedback on the stuff I’m purchasing. I’m a buyer. Your artists are uploading stuff for me, not you. I can provide valuable information (honest!) that will help your photographers and illustrators learn more about the market - and ultimately get me better images and both of you more money. Get out of the way already.

Speaking of getting out of the way, I have one major criticism of you, and I really urge you to spend some time thinking about changing your behaviour around this issue. When I purchase an image and go to my Downloads History page, it takes me way too many awkward clicks to get back to the portfolio of a particular image’s creator. We could make this far less painful for both of us:

It probably doesn’t seem that important to you. Like the toilet seat issue, it’s a small thing, and just not something that bothers you. But I fantasize every day about breaking up with you over this. It is that frustrating to me. Just make the photographer’s name link to his or her portfolio so I can easily find and buy more of his or her stuff. I don’t care if you don’t understand why it’s important: just do it. For me, and for our relationship. Thank you.

Finally, we need to talk about your communication skills. It’s cool that you’re blogging. Except you’re doing it all wrong. I suspect you have no clearly thought out blog strategy, but if you do - and I’m just going to be honest here, because we’re both adults - it sucks. You’re not addressing your whole audience, you’re not leveraging your natural assets, you’re not telling a story, and you’re not participating in the larger conversation the blogsphere was made for. For all your strengths, you are really failing in this one arena. Which I find sad - not because I’m a blog purist, but because it could work so much better for your company, your artists and your potential customers if you learned to do it better.

I love you, LuckyOliver, and I really do want to see you succeed, so if you want someone to talk to about this, please call me. We’ll go out for coffee or something and try to work it out.

Yours,
Sabrina

For anyone ever tasked with user interface and step-through design, this is an absolute gold mine. (For anyone else, I have no doubt it’s incredibly dull. Sorry about that.) It’s a categorised collection of UI screen captures, from logins and alert messages to 404s and permissions forms - all the stuff we routinely design all over again, with varying results.

It’s the Flickrwank* of Brian Christiansen, who explains this repository by way of an oft-repeated conversation in his office:

Hey, did you see the new Staples.com homepage?

Yeah, I did. I noticed that they created a top-level tab labeled ‘Ink & Toner’.

Interesting, huh?

Yeah.

And for anyone who has ever lead a client through the UI process, that’s all he needs to say. For anyone who hasn’t, it means that people buy a ton of ink and toner online; that Staples shifts a lot of it; and that search metrics and user testing showed visitors were struggling through tiers of categories and complex searches to find this core product before the re-design.

But you don’t care. All you care about is that you can find ink and toner really, really easily at Staples.

*Not pejorative.

On the off chance any of the three of you out there have subscribed to this site via RSS, I’ve now updated the feed to a new FeedBurner address. You’ll have to resubscribe over there on the right. Sorry! Thanks!

I absolutely love being old enough for everything that was once cool (and then embarrassing) to become retro cool again.

Back when the internet was born (but before you were) all the cool websites in the known universe were black. We only had 256 colours to work with then, mind, and 2/3rds of those are revolting. Plus a ton of people were not declaring background colours yet, so by default most people’s personal web pages appeared on white. Using black instead meant that things still had contrast and were readable, but sites looked more designed with black.

Black was it, baby.

Then we got more colors and black became antiquated and embarrassing. Blue was the new black for a while, and then green*, then orange, until a rather dismal gray period emerged. In response came the internet’s blorange phase, in which absolutely everything was blue and orange. That one lasted for a painful age, until the next generation of designers, screaming in agony, ran as far away from blorange as PhotoShop could take them. To white, in other words.

Now, predictably, black is the new black, which I find amusing because, of course, my first website was black and I have been waiting more than 10 years to be able to use the original non-color again without having my site pulled for public indecency.

My love for the striking WordPress theme by Yishi (on the left) is actually what inspired me to pick up a domain name and start blogging again. I loved the black. And the layout. The blue, on the other hand, gave me bad flashbacks to the Microsoft website circa 1996. Which will no doubt shortly become cool all over again.

Anyway, 12 hours later, here we are. Theme is a heavily edited Resurrection from the amazing Yichi. Also the social bookmark icons. Font is my all-time favourite, BlackJack via DaFont. Button set is from iStock. And black is my bitch.

*In theory, I wish I could show you a screen shot of Wired’s lime green website circa 1996, but not really.