Note from Jennifer: One of the greatest things about being a freelance writer is that work can come from some really unexpected places. I have written about marketing yourself basically all the time and I have even stumbled on leads at my kid’s soccer matches. Maureen Salamon is a health writer who volunteered her writing skills for her son’s football team and wound up landing a lucrative client. Her story shows how sometimes just being yourself can help you make more money. Follow Maureen on Twitter and visit her portfolio to learn more about her work.

By Maureen Salamon

“Fall down seven times; stand up eight.” – Japanese proverb

When your son’s high school football team loses week after week – and not just loses, but gets completely pummeled – you start looking for ways to shore up the masses and remind them that failure requires resilience.

This Japanese proverb came to the rescue. It was 2014, and my 17-year-old had been named one of the team captains – a weighty role for him and one that handed me my own set of responsibilities. As Captain’s Moms (there were three), we divvied up behind-the-scenes chores – from game snack assignments to hosting BBQs – aimed at making the season smoother and more fun for the athletes and their parents. I (of course) volunteered to write the weekly parents’ newsletter recapping each game’s highlights and bringing parents up to speed on the week ahead.

But the boys’ godawful season brought an unexpected twist to that job. With tensions running high among parents and coaches, I decided to use my weekly missive not just to inform, but inspire. I tried to be the calm voice of reason who saw silver linings and pointed them out to testy people. And if tactics like a well-timed proverb could help that happen, all the better.

Folks noticed. Many parents remarked to me at games how much they enjoyed the newsletters and how they served to unite and lift us up. (With a win-loss record of 1-9, it was indeed heavy lifting.) I happened to mention to a few people that I write professionally. “This is what I do,” I said simply, “so it’s not hard for me.”

Now, I was only vaguely aware of what professions these other parents worked in. Maybe that’s shortsighted, but frankly, when I’m on my kids’ sports sidelines (or dealing with their teams), I generally try not to think about work. I try to be present in the moment, be there for my kids, and clear my head of constant deadlines.

So I wasn’t marketing myself per se, but I certainly didn’t hide my writing skills. Inadvertently, I was actually showcasing them. More than that, however, I was just modeling some much-needed calm and playing nice. And what do they say about like attracting like?

One of the other preternaturally calm parents was J., a warm, lovely woman with an equally awesome son who was tight friends with mine. The boys were a lot alike: well-regarded by their teammates for their leadership and school spirit. I knew J. worked in the science field and her intellect was obvious, but it wasn’t until after the season was over that we connected on LinkedIn. I saw she worked in healthcare – my wheelhouse – but noticed it was for a large publisher of scientific journals, a far more technical direction than my own writing.

Our kids graduated and we lost touch – until a few weeks ago, when, out of the blue, J. reached out to me. She’d moved to a smaller healthcare-related firm two years ago that works with cancer doctors. The firm wants to launch a newsletter aimed at these specialists that would be published six times a year, profiling various doctors in each issue and updating them on the company’s direction and accomplishments. Would I be up for writing it?

That email led to a phone call, which was part personal catching-up (How’s your son? What’s he up to?) and mostly business. J. and her colleagues hadn’t fully fleshed out their ideas for the newsletter, and I made suggestions about style and length that resonated with her and also happen to benefit me (a doctors-are-people-too tone I know I can nail and a longer word count that translates into higher pay). With the frequency of the work and the fact that I’m the sole writer, I’ve calculated that this single new gig will add $18,000 to $20,000 per year to my annual income.

We can readily point out here that if I’d marketed myself more aggressively, I might have netted even more new business from my kids’ extra-curriculars. And that’s true. But my takeaway is somewhat simpler and happens to suit my introverted temperament. I suggest we all follow the same advice we give our kids: Play nice. (Also, notice who’s nice back.) The impressions we make on the sidelines can end up scoring us big new business. And what writer doesn’t consider that a win?

Have you ever gotten work through an unlikely contact or circumstance?