I spent yesterday afternoon at a delightful matinee performance of Gilbert and Sullivan’s comic opera, Ruddygore, given by the Gilbert and Sullivan Society of Houston.

As I invariably am at these Houston G&S Society productions, I was swept up in a wave of bittersweet nostalgia. My acquaintance with Gilbert and Sullivan goes back to my boyhood days, when my family took me to definitive performances of the operettas by Britain’s famed D’Oyle Carte Opera Company.

I use the word “definitive” advisedly. It was the D’Oyle Carte company that first mounted the Gilbert and Sullivan operettas -- and kept performing them for over a century afterwards, under the personal supervision of three generations of the D’Oyle Carte family. You don’t get much more definitive than that.

The D’Oyle Carte Company folded in 1982. But its rich traditions live on in Houston, thanks in large measure to director/performer Alistair Donkin, who was once an understudy with the celebrated British company. Under his expert guidance, the Houston society has produced Gilbert and Sullivan at a standard of excellence that has impressed audiences even on G&S’s home turf. In 2004, the Houston society’s production of The Mikado won first place at the International Gilbert and Sullivan Festival in Buxton, England.

That’s why watching the Houston productions never fails to bring a tear to my eye: they take me back to those matinees in New York City over forty years ago, when I first saw those wonderful D’Oyle Carte productions.

Ruddygore is a spoof of gothic melodramas that also contains a lesson or two for speechwriters.

Writing is a solitary profession, and writers tend to be introverts. That’s a serious handicap if you have to make a living by writing. If you’re a freelancer, you have to be extroverted enough to attract clients; and if you work for a corporation, you have to constantly demonstrate that your work is contributing to the bottom line. In either case, you have to be a shameless self-promoter, even if that means going against your nature.

That brings me back to Ruddygore, and a patter song with this refrain:

If you wish in the world to advance,
Your merits you're bound to enhance,
You must stir it and stump it,
And blow your own trumpet,
Or, trust me, you haven't a chance!

Speechwriters should take this advice to heart.

First: Always remember that you have two clients: the person you write for -- and yourself. And you are just as important as the client.

There's no conflict of interest here. If you're working to make your client look good, you're also making yourself look good. For example: Are you hired to write a speech? Offer to turn the speech into an article or op/ed for your client. If it gets published, the client looks good and you've got another impressive writing sample to add to your portfolio.

Second, be visible. One reason why speechwriters are so vulnerable in the corporate world is that we're often faceless, anonymous beings. Some of us think that being invisible makes us secure. Wrong. Don't assume that if you keep your head down and do a good job you're safe, because you're not.

On the contrary, safety lies in being visible within the organization. Volunteer for projects that will help you grow professionally, win you friends and allies and add to your portfolio. Offer to write an article for the company magazine, for instance. Help out with the annual United Way drive or the political action committee. But whatever you do, make sure the higher-ups are aware of the contribution you’re making to the company’s overall success and profitability.

In other words, don’t be afraid to blow your own trumpet. It’s not a matter of puffing your ego. Very often, it’s a matter of your survival.