It’s not your imagination—building a writing career is getting tougher. Recent statistics estimate that two million new books a year are offered on Amazon. Competition grows stronger, the market grows more crowded, advances are decreasing, and more and more authors are competing for eyeballs—including against an onslaught of AI-generated books. 

Increasingly, publishing houses focus on debut authors, the tradition of nurturing and building an author’s career over years and multiple books seemingly a relic. If a single title’s sales don’t measure up to expectations, you may not get a shot at a second one—and yet much marketing and publicity is, more than ever, up to most authors to shoulder. 

Regardless of their publishing path, authors assume ever more costs associated with publishing, as well as ever more of the risks. They do the bulk of the labor of creating the product on which our entire industry is based, yet often benefit least from the commerce of it. 

In a time when it can feel daunting or even pointless to try to pursue a writing career, how can you find a calm and confident center from which to free yourself to produce your best work and create a fulfilling, long-term, sustainable writing career no matter what current madness is swirling around you in the industry?

Take Control

One reason we can feel as if we don’t have control over our own careers is that our goals are based on factors over which we have very little of it. Making order from chaos starts with reframing the way we think about our careers and what constitutes success for us. 

That coin has two sides: the business and the art of your career. 

Relative to the business side, despite how much may be beyond your ability to influence, there is much that you do have a say over. You get to decide what publishing path you want to pursue—if any. (There is no shame or value judgment if your writing career means you write for your own enjoyment, or for a small group of readers like family or special-interest groups.) You get to determine when you send your work out, and to whom—and there are more avenues than ever to be published. 

Writers have unprecedented access to hire top-notch professionals once available mostly only through big publishing houses; more ability to find and reach readers directly; and more ways to market and even distribute their own stories. You have control over all those choices relative to the business of writing. 

What you don’t have control over is the outcome. You can’t influence whether agents or editors will accept your work, whether readers will buy it or how they will review it. No matter how brilliant your writing may be, art is the most subjective and mercurial of businesses, and often what makes one book a smash bestseller and another lost on the slush pile is no more than chance or timing or luck or the right contacts. 

But you can control your own efforts and output, shifting away from defining your success or worth based on outside attainments—the process, not the product. You have complete control over what you write, how you write it, when, how often—all creative decisions about your work itself that you get to make. 

But, like characters in our unedited stories bumbling around in circles and into dead ends, because they don’t have clearly delineated goals and motivations, authors may flounder in their careers because they fail to concretely define what they want or look at their true reasons for wanting it. Identifying your own motivations and goals hinges on three core elements:

Know Why You Write

Established authors I work with often tell me that the freest they ever felt as writers, the most they ever enjoyed it, was before they published or when they were between publishing contracts. That’s when they didn’t worry about deadlines or expectations or their platform or marketability; they just worked from the pure creative impulse that made them want to become writers in the first place. 

But amid the chaos of the publishing world, it’s easy to lose sight of that initial spark, our passion for the art and craft of writing: creating stories and worlds we dream of, exploring our fullest imaginations, learning and honing our skills, expressing our inner selves on the page. 

Those satisfactions come from within you, rather than hinging on outside forces or opinions, and are attainable through your efforts. Staying connected to that core “why” lays the foundation for agency and autonomy as an author, so you never feel like a beggar at the table hoping for scraps to be tossed your way, but rather a working artist at the helm of your own creative career.

Know What You Want

But most of us didn’t get into this field because we wanted to sit in our attic retreats and write for the sheer love of it, for no one’s eyes but our own. It’s human nature to want to share our creative work and find an appreciative audience. It’s human nature—and practicality—to want to be paid for it. 

Finding comfort within the chaos starts with defining what that specifically means for you. For instance: 

• Do you want to write full-time and make a living from your writing?
• Do you want to augment your finances with writing income?
• Do you want to be traditionally published?
• Do you want to have more control over your books and career and indie-publish?

Whatever your goals, what does that mean or practically look like? For instance, how much money do you need to make from your writing to do it full-time? What are the current traditional publishing advances like, on average? How likely is it you will sell through and make additional royalties? Or how much can you reasonably expect to make on a small-, hybrid-, or indie-publishing track, where advances may be even smaller or nonexistent? How many books will you need to publish each year given those estimates to make what you need to make to sustain a full-time writing career? 

What does that look like? How much time is required for writing each book? How much for editing and revision? How about marketing? What does that look like in practice—a 40-hour workweek, broken up into writing one manuscript while editing another, and also marketing and publicity and platform building? Fifty hours? Sixty? And are you factoring these expenses, where you must carry them yourself, into your net yield? 

When books become your main product that provides your income, your business model requires churning them out regularly, without fail. And market fluctuations are out of your control: Does your business model allow for “dry spells” if one book doesn’t sell well, or advances drop, or you lose a publishing contract, or you fall behind in production of your stories? 

When you consider what your goals actually mean and entail, do they still sound enjoyable to you? Is this what you had in mind when you dreamed of making your living writing? 

Maybe it is. But maybe it isn’t, and you realize that actually, when you say you want to write full-time, what you really mean is you do want to be Emily Brontë writing in her attic aerie, untroubled by the chaotic realities of the business or the world, simply living as a pure artist. Or that it’s enough to write part-time, buying yourself creative freedom with your “day job”—the way so many authors do, even bestsellers. 

And maybe that’s already within your reach. 

This is why it’s crucial to pinpoint goals and motivations concretely and fully—for ourselves just as with our characters. Your stories will never come together if you don’t … and neither will a rewarding writing career.

Know What You Value

Even though it may feel like it, art is not life. 

Besides the joy of pursuing your writing, and the potential of making money from it if that’s among your goals, what else do you value for a full and meaningful life? What—and most important, who—matters most to you? Your partner? Children? Pets? Your family of origin? Your family of friends? Your community—writing and otherwise? 

What does that look like to you in your ideal life? Do you want time every day to devote to those people, to nourish yourself and these relationships? What does that mean—specifically: Twenty minutes of meaningful conversation? Shared activity and enjoyment? More? 

What about your other passions and interests, where do they fit in? Is regular exercise important to you, or being in nature, or hobbies like gardening or cooking or rock-climbing or glass blowing? 

Based on all your values, what does success mean to you? What would feel like enough: time well spent; life thoroughly enjoyed? 

Once you define these parameters, what do you do with them? They become the basis for how you build your writing career. They allow you to make decisions and create a life that fulfills you.

Treat Your Writing Career as a Business

You know the setting—the realities of our industry. You know your motivations—your why. You know your goals—your “enough.” You know the stakes—what you value. 

Now you have to create the plot—the actions you will take to reach the goals you desire, within your control. That means treating your writing as a business and as a career—and honoring your right to pursue it whether or not it’s “profitable”:

Have a Plan

Now that you’ve defined what you hope to achieve in your writing career, determine what you need to do to attain those concrete goals. 

Create a mission statement and business plan—an actual written one that you keep. Make a flowchart, a bullet list, a spreadsheet—whatever works for you to delineate the steps on the path that are necessary to achieve your particular defined goals. 

That likely starts with creating a writing routine and treating it like any other firm commitment—like a job. Writers write; they don’t just talk about writing. Schedule your writing time and honor that. Keep learning your craft to hone your skills, as you would in any other field you want to master and succeed in. 

If your goals involve your stories reaching readers, pinpoint the avenue(s) you want to pursue and learn the steps involved—and then put them into action, creating a step-by-step, concrete plan for that too. 

You wouldn’t dream of trying to launch any other business without a researched market plan and budget—treat your writing career the same way and have a budget for your time as well as your finances. What are the markets for selling your work? What do you have to do to be competitive in those markets? What do they pay—is it enough to live on, or how much of it will you have to do to make your desired income? Is that feasible/sustainable? How, exactly? If not, how will you supplement that income, if you need to? Make a specific, concrete plan for soliciting and attaining paid work—and follow it.

Adjust When Needed

Periodically revisit your mission statement and business plan, and tweak as your situation, the market, or its requirements change. Regularly revisit your goals: You are not stuck in the rut of the things you may have wanted in the past—people evolve and grow, and their goals must evolve with them. 

Even with exacting planning and diligent execution, there are no guarantees in any creative business. Publishing is a subjective industry and a mercurial one. Do everything you can to set yourself up for success, but always coming back to your goals, your motivations, the realities, and your values—your definition of success, on your terms—is your safe harbor in any storm. 

That doesn’t mean you don’t dream. Our dreams can sustain us and help motivate us, but it does mean shifting away from defining the attainment of those dreams as success. From valuing our success or worth based on outside attainments rather than internal satisfactions. 

Define your success not as what will make you happy, but as what you can be happy with. It’s a subtle shift in thinking that keeps you from waiting for the holy grail before you can actually enjoy your life or your career.

Stay in the Game

It’s such oft-repeated advice for writers that it’s a cliché, but the secret of creating a successful writing career is persistence. And the main tool to be able to persist in this chaotic, challenging business is resilience. 

And the way to create resilience is to remember that we are not our writing. We are not our writing careers. Our worth is not dependent on the performance or popularity or perfection of our creative output. 

It can be hard to hold on to that in those literary dark nights of the soul, when we may be beset by self-doubt, discouragement, even despair. But our creative output has inherent value because we instill it. We don’t exist for our writing—our writing exists because of us. As long as you pursue it—on whatever level is meaningful to you—you are a writer.

Be Your Own Advocate

In any creative industry, where the person who often benefits the least financially is the creator, it’s up to every artist to be their own advocate and champion, even if you’re lucky enough to have a support team behind you. 

That means taking yourself seriously as a writer; valuing and respecting your creative work, no matter where you are in your growth as an artist; and knowing when to say no—and saying it. Even in an industry rife with rejection, where too often the remunerative elements aren’t remotely commensurate with the effort and energy the work requires, and artists are sometimes treated as disposable, interchangeable manufacturers of “product,” you get to decide your work’s worth. 

Don’t be afraid to ask to be paid for your writing. Don’t be afraid to negotiate for more money or to retain more rights. Don’t be afraid to walk away if someone else doesn’t value your work the way you realistically believe it should be valued. If one of your goals for your writing career is to make money—which is fully legitimate and valid—then you have to approach selling your work like the business it is. 

Advocating for yourself and your career also means consciously creating the career you want; protecting yourself and your intellectual property; and speaking up for yourself to make sure you have a seat at the table. You don’t have to follow others’ lead or wishes for your career: If you don’t want to use a pen name, you don’t have to. If you don’t want to switch genres, don’t. If you feel your agent or publisher isn’t a good fit for you anymore, don’t be afraid to end the relationship. 

Our reluctance to advocate for ourselves is often rooted in fear: fear that our work really isn’t good enough, or that no one else will want it. Fear that we’re being greedy or arrogant for asking for more compensation or better terms, or that if we have the temerity to do so, whoever is offering for our work will change their minds or offer to someone else instead. 

But if we don’t value our work and champion our writing, who will? And why would anyone else value it? If we don’t take the wheel of our own careers, then we’re putting someone else in the driver’s seat, a passive passenger in our own lives.

Conclusion

Here’s a little mental check-in to begin to reclaim your own career on your terms: If somebody told you that you will never hit the heights you dream of, would you continue writing? 

If you can answer yes—right now, wherever you are in your career—then you already have all the ingredients for forging the writing life you want, no matter how chaotic the industry.  

With all the challenges of a creative life, it’s still one of the noblest of human pursuits. Writing sheds light where there is darkness. It brings people a greater understanding of themselves and each other and the world. It connects them and brings them together. It makes our world warmer and brighter and more hopeful. 

And that’s the true comfort amid the chaos.

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Was I dreaming? I pinched myself, just in case. Refreshed the screen.

Still there.

(I Got 8 Agent Offers; Then, My Book Died on Sub.)

Even now, with a book deal and all the surreal milestones that followed, that memory still stands out. Before any of this was real, someone looked at my strange little book and said yes.

Pitch Wars was founded by author Brenda Drake in 2012 and ran for 10 years, connecting nearly 500 unagented writers with experienced mentors—authors, editors, or agents—who guided them through deep-dive revisions and a final agent showcase. It became known as a kind of unofficial MFA: intense, selective, and powered entirely by volunteers. This was more than a craft intensive. The program cracked open doors, built community, and brought distant publishing dreams within reach.

Some mentees went on to bestseller lists (Tomi Adeyemi’s Children of Blood and Bone began as a Pitch Wars manuscript), but what struck me most was how human the program felt. It was free. It was grassroots. And it hinged on something generous and rare: Writers helping other writers, simply because someone had once helped them.

I applied in the fall of 2020. I’d only recently come back to writing—seriously, at least—after years of putting my dream on hold, telling myself it was for people with MFAs, connections, or just more time. But lockdown gave me a strange kind of clarity. I’d left behind my corporate job for a handful of freelance projects; what looked like professional rock bottom became an opportunity to explore my dream with nothing to lose. I was back at my parents’ house, writing on a beat-up 2010 MacBook at the kitchen table. I signed up for online workshops, devoured every craft book I could find, and started pulling together a draft of what would eventually become Glitter in the Dark.

When I saw Layne and Halley on the mentor wishlist, my heart jumped. I knew their work well. They didn’t write “likeable” women. They wrote real ones: complicated, sharp-edged, sometimes just barely holding it together. Their stories often followed queer women through shadows and spotlights, chasing what they wanted with no apologies—even when it led to violence. Ambition, identity, performance, revenge—it was all there, simmering under the surface.

For the first time, my queer mystery set in 1920s New York didn’t feel like some mad, unpublishable dream. It felt like it might actually belong.

I’d never wanted to be part of something so badly. But I was only a few months into my writing journey, with no formal training or credentials—just a messy draft and a lot of self-doubt. I almost didn’t apply. But I kept coming back to their wishlist, reading it like a map to some imagined future. I couldn’t let it go.

So I pulled the trigger.

And somehow, against all odds, they chose me.

What followed was three months of intense, exhilarating revision. My original draft opened with a wide-lens view of a speakeasy—an omniscient sweep through the room, vague and atmospheric. One of the first things Layne and Halley suggested was dropping my protagonist straight into the action. That shift changed everything.

So did a lot of other things. I wanted to write a sexy, sharp noir—but for some reason, my protagonist and her sister were stuck with an elderly aunt for a chaperone. I sent them on convoluted side-quests, tangled in so many plot threads I’m still amazed Layne and Halley didn’t develop migraines. I had too many speakeasies and not nearly enough spice. I was really shy about writing sex scenes, until my mentors shared a few examples that were … influential, to say the least. Like Miami Purity by Vicki Hendricks—after that, I’ll never look at a dry cleaners the same way again (read it now, thank me later).

They gave me permission to make the book darker, hotter, stranger. To make it mine.

My whole family got COVID around Christmas. This was pre-vaccine, and my dad ended up in the hospital. He pulled through, but I barely remember anything except the fear. The world felt like it had narrowed to a single, flickering thread.

Click to continue.

I kept writing. Drafting through a fever haze, chasing deadlines that felt like a lifeline. Layne and Halley were right there, guiding me through it. The scenes weren’t good, but they moved the book forward.

Writing through that chaos cracked something open in me. I stopped obsessing over every sentence. I just wrote. It was the first time I stopped dreaming about being a writer and started acting like one.

Halley and Layne helped me hold onto that momentum. They walked me through the agent showcase prep—query letters, synopses, the pitch—but most importantly, they reminded me to keep my focus where it belonged: on the writing itself. Follow your obsessions, they told me. Write the thing you care about. That’s the part you can control—and the best way to stay grounded through all the chaos you’ll inevitably face in your publishing journey.

The showcase went live in early 2021. I had a few requests, but one stood out: Chris, who would later become my agent. His client list was full of writers I admired, with books that echoed my own obsessions: queer voices, dark historical fiction, twisty, unsettling thrillers. It was a perfect match—from the start, he understood exactly the kind of story I wanted to tell.

It would be a few more years before I signed my first book deal. But the lessons I learned during Pitch Wars carried me through that in-between time, even when every rejection made me want to log off permanently and go scream into the nearest patch of woods.

Pitch Wars shut down in 2022, but its legacy lives on—in the bylines on bestseller lists, in the titles lining your bookshelves. What you won’t see—at least not right away—are the threads it spun between writers, or the quiet resilience it instilled, carrying us all through long silences, close calls, and doors that never opened.

In the weeks leading up to the publication of my debut, I’ve been thinking a lot about the people who helped me along the way. About the power of mentorship, and how far a little belief can take you. If you’re writing something dark or dreamy—maybe set in the early 20th century, glittering with showgirls, sleuths, or stage lights—and you see a bit of yourself in my work … well, my inbox is open.

No promises. But I’m looking.

After all, it started with one yes. Now it’s my turn to pass it forward.

Check out Olesya Lyuzna’s Glitter in the Dark here:

Bookshop | Amazon

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The post Glitter and Grit: How Pitch Wars Took Me From Messy Draft to Book Deal appeared first on Writer's Digest.

Available on newsstands only, now through February 11, 2025.

Order a print copy from the Writer’s Digest Shop while supplies last.

Order a PDF version to start reading today.

What’s Inside:

2024 The Year in Publishing: Publishing expert Jane Friedman explains the most important publishing topics of the year, and how they affect you. By Jane Friedman

Preparation & Progress

– Kill With Your Critique—The Good Way: Learn techniques to give valuable feedback to critique partners. By Ryan G. Van Cleave

– Hone Crucial Content Editing Skills: Work on revising your own work by understanding two critical elements: point of view and setting. By Kim Catanzarite

– The Art of People Watching: Observing people can help you create characters on the page, if you know what to look for. By Michael La Ronn

Freelancer’s Workshop

– How Much Should I Charge: The creator of Funds for Writers did all the research on the going rates freelancers can and should charge. By C. Hope Clark

– Milking the Cow, Part 1 and Part 2: Don Vaughan gives advice for how freelancers writers can make most of every article idea to boost their revenue and portfolio. By Don Vaughan

– Tantalizing Titles: Submitting article pitches with a catchy title can sometimes be the difference between getting the assignment or not. Estelle Erasmus breaks down her techniques for creating tantalizing titles. By Estelle Erasmus

Book Building

– Turning Real People Into Characters Is an Act of Translation: How to balance truth and subjectivity when writing about the self and others in memoir. By Lilly Dancyger

– The Big Reveal: Write a compelling story by understanding how and when to reveal crucial information to readers for maximum impact. By Tiffany Yates Martin

– Thematic Writing: How to use symbols and allegory to add richness and depth to your writing. By Jane K. Cleland

– Anchoring Characters in a Series: Seven techniques for writing a series-sustainable character. By Yasmin Angoe

For Your Reference

– The 26^th Annual 101 Best Websites: This list singles out the best resources for established and beginning writers across all genres. By The Editors of WD

– Top 100 Magazine Markets for Writers: The editors of WD have found 100 of the hottest markets and shares all the details for your best bet at publication. By Moriah Richard and Hannah Spicer

– Demystifying the Author Website: Whitney Hill breaks down why it’s critical for authors to have their own websites (and not rely on social media), and how you can get started. By Whitney Hill

– Reach Out to Readers: Author Newsletters 101: Just as it’s important to have an author website, having a corresponding author newsletter can be just as beneficial. Whitney Hill shares the value of newsletters and steps for starting your own. By Whitney Hill

– Analyzing Agent Responses: Former editor and literary agent Kesia Lupo explains the different kinds of common responses from literary agents to your query letter. By Kesia Lupo

– Understanding Agency Agreements: You got the offer from a literary agent. Should you sign? Literary agent Caryn Wiseman explains what you should look for in a legitimate agency agreement before you say yes to the agent. By Caryn Wiseman

– How Writing Software Can Help Your Craft: Two writing programs offer unique ways for writers to organize their creative process. By Jennifer Chen

The post Cover Reveal: Writer’s Yearbook 2025 appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(The One Thing Every Author Needs to Market Their Book.)

It was my YouTube channel which led to an unexpected conversation with my now-editor, Lucy Brem at Pan Macmillan. She was on the hunt for New York vlogs before a trip of her own, and stumbled across videos that I had shared of a recent trip. After watching a little further back, she picked up on subtle mentions of a ‘writing project’ which had been taking up a lot of my free time. That writing project was actually the cozy, comforting, witchy story that I’d spent the last three years on, solely for the purpose of seeing if I could finally cross off my bucket list goal—to write a book, to see a story through to the end.

It’s no exaggeration to say my life has always revolved around books, reading and writing. Looking back, I think all of my career decisions were chosen with the assumption that, no matter where or what, I would end up writing in some capacity. Having been an avid bookworm since I was young, I went on to study English Literature at university. From there, it was freelance journalism for titles like Marie Claire, Cosmopolitan, and MTV UK for many years, before my social media and often book-based content eventually took over. Even then, written work has constantly ticked along in the background.

A very early spark of a story idea popped into my head in 2020 while I was on one of the classic, local area walks that were keeping us all vaguely sane during the pandemic. It was the image of a witch, just turning 30, and having to prove to a jury of her coven peers that she was worthy of keeping the magic she had been neglecting. It was very reflective of how I was feeling at the time, having developed a real fear of allowing myself to shine for fear of failing. I kept the whole experience of writing completely private, knowing that any outside pressure or interest would make me overthink it and inevitably stop.

That first email that landed in my inbox from Lucy, asking if she could hear more about what I’d been working on, was the first of many moments that have felt like real-life magic (and a lot of luck) was afoot. The universe was on my side—she had been looking for a cozy, witchy book to take on, and that was exactly what I’d spent years privately writing, with no real intention to actually pursue publishing. We clicked on first meeting, and it was clear to me that she absolutely ‘got’ the heart of the book, which came from such a personal and vulnerable place. Trusting my gut instinct, I signed a two-book deal unagented, confident that I should seize the dream for myself. We have worked closely together throughout the entire editing process. The rights team at Pan Macmillan then took the reins on securing international deals for Rewitched, finding its perfect US home with wonderful editor Anne Sowards at Berkley.

It wasn’t until Pan Macmillan went public with my publishing announcement that I had a separate conversation with my now-agent, Maddy Belton at Madeleine Milburn Literary Agency. Maddy reached out to me after spotting the news of my two-book deal online to see if I was interested in further guidance and support. It was another fortuitous connection. MMA had been the agency that I had quietly thought to myself would be on the ‘dream list,’ if I ever found the courage to query Rewitched one day. Signing with them has proved invaluable. Maddy has helped me to understand the workings of a notoriously unique and secretive industry, and to plan much more effectively for the future of my writing. Maddy will also now be an additionally helpful pair of eyes in the editing process for my second book, which is something that I didn’t have the first time around.

Once the publishing deal was in place, having an audience certainly helped with the tricky prospect of marketing a debut novel. My followers and I often share the same interests, taste, insecurities, and sense of humor, so it makes sense that a book I had written largely for myself, a story that I had needed to hear, would resonate with them too. As an autumn-obsessed, nostalgic, and self-reflective gang, many of them were excited about the story specifically, rather than just the fact that I had written a book. But the flip side of a so-called ‘ready-made’ audience is that it’s only going to work if the endeavor is a genuine one. An audience that is so familiar with you can easily spot a disingenuous project—and they will let you know about it if they do. It carries an overwhelming risk of public failure, which is often more than enough to discourage a dream.

A platform on social media can only provide a temporary boost to an author, maybe a springboard for pre-orders for example. But the book itself must still do the heavy lifting if the aim is to reach out any further into the book world than a limited following number. If achieving any kind of longevity or reputation as a ‘real’ author is the goal, the book and the writing must ultimately be good enough to stand by itself. Luck has certainly been on my side during the publishing process for Rewitched, but spending more than 12 years building a following doesn’t feel like much of an effective, magical ‘shortcut’ to anything.

Social media is a powerful tool, one that is scary to a lot of (usually introverted) writers. But my own experience is hopefully a positive and optimistic reminder that you never do know who’s watching, and my favorite mindset to try and return to—what’s the best that could happen?

Check out Lucy Jane Wood’s Rewitched here:

Bookshop | Amazon

(WD uses affiliate links)

The post My Unconventional (and Suitably Spooky) Publishing Story appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(From Ghosting to Vampires: A Writer’s Journey.)

The truth of the matter is that my novels have been out there for years, my words devoured by thousands of voracious readers. Like a proud parent standing in the wings, I’ve watched in silence (and overwhelming pride, of course) as a handful of my stories have climbed the bestseller lists—and no one will ever know that I was the one who breathed them to life.

I stumbled into the mysterious world of ghostwriting sometime after college. I’d been working a 9-to-5 (the safe and sensible thing to do, I’d been told), but I craved to create. Ever since I was a child, writing had been my creative outlet of choice. I’d always dreamt of becoming an author. I loved nothing more than to click-click-clack on my laptop, lost in a world constructed entirely of my own imagination.

While I toiled away in my office cubical counting down the seconds until I could clock-out, I yearned to write something—anything—just so I could put words down on a page. That’s how, with the help of my trusty old friend Google, I happened across an ad on a freelance job board: Copywriter Wanted for Mommy Blog.

The starting rate was $0.005 per word, which meant an article a thousand words in length would score me a whopping five bucks! I, in my starry-eyed 23-year-old optimism, thought, “They want me to write about the top ten at-home spa day ideas for busy moms? And they’re willing to pay me for it? Dude, that’s so cool!”

The only hitch was that the client wanted to see a portfolio of previous work, of which I had exactly none. Thankfully, I had a can-do attitude and a hunger to try something new, so I spent that evening writing up a handful of articles that I believed would appeal specifically to their readership’s demographic. (And before anyone tries to give me flack, have you seen the state of the economy? Fake it until you make it, as the kids say.)

A week later, there was an email in my inbox. They offered me the contract. I was over the moon.

Was I able to make a living writing articles? No. Not even close, actually. I still had to work my 9-to-5, but at least now I had the opportunity to do something I loved and have a little extra pocket money to show for it. As my portfolio (of actual work) expanded, I reached out to more and more potential clients. The snowball was growing, gaining momentum. 

Before long, I had a healthy rotation of clients requesting new articles on a regular basis. I’d bang out an SEO-optimized listicle before breakfast, head off to my day job, then come home and write more articles after dinner. It wasn’t until six months in that one of my clients messaged me: Hey Kat, are you by any chance interested in writing fiction?

Absolutely, I replied within five seconds of reading the text.

Writing articles was fine and all, but as I said, I’d always dreamed of being an author. Publishing stories, having people read them, and getting paid upfront for my work was a dream come true. After a referral and a couple of emails back and forth, I officially had my first contract as a romance ghostwriter. Little did I know that this was an entirely different ballgame.

I say this with the utmost respect and sincerity: The world of ghostwriting is a fascinating beast. The amount of organization and coordination that goes into producing books at the speeds that they do is mind-boggling. The clients that I’ve worked for often had multiple pen names that they managed, as well as several ghostwriters writing under the same name at the same time to ensure rapid-fire production. I’m talking about release schedules where they had a new book every month to maintain readership retention.

Some of my clients had dedicated outliners, who’d then give their outlines to the ghostwriting team to put everything together. Other clients of mine wanted me to outline and start from scratch, often providing me with a list of tropes and character archetypes that they knew (from statistical data they’d collected) would appeal most to their readers. I don’t mean to sound dramatic, but I swear they had it down to a science.

Deadlines were tight, but the pay was higher (and that’s always nice, isn’t it?). They needed an 80,000-word book from me every month to a month and a half. I had a client who required a writing speed of 20k words a week, or they would release me from the next project. There were several times throughout my ghostwriting career where I was juggling three different books at one time. To say that it was mentally taxing was an understatement, but I loved my work.

Near the end of 2018, I quit my 9-to-5 to pivot to ghostwriting full-time. When people asked, I could tell them (with the utmost glee) that I was a writer for a living. I thrived under the pressure, grateful for the chance to dive into my imagination every single day. Sometimes it felt impossible to meet writing minimums, but I did it. Over and over again, because when you’re doing something you love, it doesn’t feel like work at all.

For six years, I wrote romance novels in a variety of different genres. Contemporary, erotica, and queer romances. Paranormal, rom-coms, and dark romantic thrillers. I wrote standalone novels and series about brooding firefighters/ex-marines/mobsters. If I had a nickel for every ‘bad boy billionaire alpha male’ I wrote at my client’s behest, I’d … Well, I’d have a lot of nickels. (Don’t worry, they always had hearts of gold.)

Yet there came a point when I started to crave again. I spent six years of writing stories for others. Six years of seeing someone else’s name on the front cover—someone who didn’t even exist in the first place. I had my own stories to tell, tales I wanted to explore, and that’s how, little by little, I began to write my own novel in my spare time—what would later become my debut adult fantasy, The Last Dragon of the East.

Thus began my adventure into the querying trenches, all while I continued to ghostwrite. I’d been working professionally on my craft for a little over half a decade, yet the thought of taking credit for my work for the very first time left me nervously excited. At least with ghostwriting, I could hide behind my anonymity. To put my name on a manuscript felt like a stamp of approval. For the very first time, I’d be stepping out from the wings and out under the spotlight.

The Last Dragon of the East was my way of reconnecting with the myths and legends my parents and grandparents would have heard growing up. There are parts of my book where I bare my soul, entire sections I used as my confessional. I wasn’t sure if anyone was going to want to read it. 

Imagine my surprise when I got my first full-request, and then several offers of representation, and then I signed with my amazing agent! Within two months of debut adult fantasy being on sub, we had a couple of offers. Now I’m pleased to say that The Last Dragon of the East will be coming October 8, 2024 from Saga Press, an imprint of Simon & Schuster.

They say there’s no standard path to becoming an author, and I couldn’t agree more. That snowball I’d been building up—it kept on rolling, even after I forgot about it. I’m incredibly grateful for everyone who’s supported me on this journey. It took me years of writing novels for other people before I finally had the chance to write stories under my own name, and now that I’m here, I sincerely hope I get to keep writing for the rest of my days.

Check out Katrina Kwan’s The Last Dragon of the East here:

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(Releasing a Debut Novel Later in Life.)

Even as I got older, that dream changed little, although the publishing industry had. What was once a common pastime of perusing bookstores or library shelves for new things to read quickly disappeared with the onset of the Amazon brand. By the time I finished college—I couldn’t think of another time I could find a bookstore to look at the latest reading releases.

On December 2, 2023, after a worldwide pandemic and a new world adjusting to life, my debut novel, The Girl, debuted for sale in North America, Europe, and Australia. It culminated over 10 years of ideas, false starts, rework, sub-par contracts, and edits. The day of the book’s release, I turned my phone off, went to a spa day, and stuffed my face full of churros with chocolate sauce. 

The process of writing the book and getting it to publication was nothing like I had expected it to be. So many writing conferences, classes, and online webinars only speak about how to write the book, edit it, and even pitch it. But I have never encountered anyone discussing what it’s like once you get to the contract and beyond. 

Since I cannot believe that I am now at the stage of publishing my second novel, I wanted to reflect on things I wish I had known or learned when my first novel was published.

1. Your first publishing contract offer often differs from the offer you end up with. In my dreams, getting a book deal contract in writing cemented that you had made it, a goal achieved. However, I went through three or four offers for my first book to get published before finding a publisher whose contract I felt comfortable working with. I highly encourage any aspiring writer or author to use any writing guild memberships or invest in a legal service for contract reviews, especially if you decide to pitch your work without an agent. Legal reviews can take time, and it’s important to know that contract negotiation can get dicey.
2. Knowing what you’re unwilling to compromise on in your contract is essential. Is there a certain royalty percentage you are looking for? When you pitch your art, you must understand that agents and publishers can categorize the format in which the art is created as a distinct right for sale. Suddenly, it isn’t just a hardback or paperback copy of the novel you must decide if you will let go of. Do you wish the audiobook rights would also be on the block for discussion? What about movies? Television? Graphic novel? While at the beginning of all these discussions, I thought saying yes to everything was the way to go, my peers and fellow Authors Guild members quickly talked me down from saying yes to anything I didn’t fully understand. When an author bargains the rights away, there needs to be an understanding that they may lose more than they gain.
3. That being said, there’s something to be said about the ability to know the difference between the things you can and cannot control and the things that are your strengths and weaknesses. Once my publisher for The Girl accepted the novel, the process felt like being on a movie set, a cycle of hurrying up and then waiting. You are not the only book on the docket, and depending on your release timing, you can find yourself waiting a while for the process to start.
4. A big part of publishing is being able to condense and expand on what your project is about at any time—whether it’s the one-sentence logline or the back of the book description. You will never be in a place where you don’t need to summarize your story. Coming up with ways to condense your art into various word counts is painful and a proper exercise in creativity, but when you get it, you GET it.
5. Some details that you suddenly get hung up on will surprise you. It’s so funny how, at the start of the process, I would have said once I wrote the novel, I wanted to use as many other skilled artists as possible to present my book with its best foot forward. I was lucky to work with a publisher that allowed me to participate in several marketing areas, including the book cover design. While I did not have the final say on the cover, I was surprised at the little details I suddenly obsessed over—the tones of the colors I picked, the mood the font was giving, and even the angle of the character’s face. You only get so many rounds of revisions (if any) for artwork reviews, and there’s the ever-ticking time clock counting down to release. Each step in approvals gatekeepers another portion of the production. Don’t get so caught up in the details that may not matter as much—the point is to get the book to the release date.

Just as Dorothy pulls back the curtain behind the Wizard of Oz, getting through the publishing process for your first novel can feel like a roller coaster of a million emotions. While it sounds trite, for any new author experiencing the journey for the first time, try every second to enjoy the good, bad, and ugly parts of the process. You publish your debut novel once, but with any luck, this is the first of many times through the book launch process. 

Check out Victory Witherkeigh’s The Demon here:

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(How I Stopped Sabotaging My Writing Goals.)

I was glowing as I reached for the second item in my mailbox. Join the Growing Number of Seniors Discovering the Benefits of Joining AARP! Chestnuts like, Retirement Made Easy and Night Driving: Help for Staying Safe were enticing me to link age-spotted, arthritic hands with my fellow baby boomers who were negotiating the perils of Medicare and saving money on costly prescriptions.

With those two pieces of paper, I held the dichotomy of my life in my hands. When most people my age were retiring, I was beginning my career as an author. In fact, I had actually been retired for 6 months when I got my agent. For decades I was a diagnostic reading specialist, working with a non-profit to help children and adults with reading-based learning disabilities. In between working and raising my twins, I wrote manuscripts for novels. I had queried for years and had received enough positive feedback to keep trying, but had never gotten “the call.”

My first grandchild was on the way, so I turned in my resignation at the non-profit and picked my grandma name, ready to help my daughter and her husband with the new addition. Soon after my retirement, I met an established writer who asked about a manuscript of mine a mutual friend had mentioned to her. I had recently shelved it after over 200 rejections and was writing something new, but I gave her my elevator pitch. She said she knew the perfect agent for it and for me to reach out to her assistant for details.

Long story short, the agent loved the story and asked for a call. I was expecting an R&R (revise and resubmit), but instead, the agent offered to represent me. I’ve never said yes so fast in my life.

We polished the story until it gleamed, and then my agent sent out a lucky 13 queries. A truly surreal four-way bidding war broke out for the manuscript. I signed with Harper Muse, an imprint of HarperCollins, and hoped no one would wake me from this fever dream of an experience.

I started to feel my age as I tried to establish a social media presence. I was used to collaborating on Google Docs for work, and could email and text with the best of them, but I was being asked to function in a world miles beyond my comfort zone. Luckily for me, I had daughters and younger friends who could talk me through the complexities of TikTok and Instagram and were patient as they explained things like the difference between a story and a reel. Many parts of Canva Pro are still a mystery, and no one is going to accuse me of being an expert, but I am learning! I knew enough to hire a professional to create my website, and being able to send someone a request like, can you put this review and this blurb on there, and also, I have a couple of appearances to mention has been a lifesaver.

When I attended the American Library Association convention in San Diego in June, I had my first signing line. Meeting the librarians and other book people was the highlight of the trip, and I had a chance to chat briefly with each of them. One woman complimented my dress and asked where I got it. (It’s the Libby dress from Boden). Another woman asked my age, and I cheerfully responded 62, forgetting I had recently celebrated a birthday and was, in fact, 63. (Old people forget things). She gave me a big smile and said, “I guess it’s never too late to go for your dreams,” and she was exactly right.

Although I would have loved for that first query I mailed through the USPS back when dinosaurs roamed to have been answered with a positive response, the yes that finally came was made all the sweeter by the hundreds of no’s that preceded it. Taking the scenic route to success isn’t for everyone, but my long journey has allowed me many advantages. I’ve made great friends along the way and learned more about my craft with every manuscript revision.

I am certainly not complaining, and find myself in good company. For example, Delia Owens was 70 when Where The Crawdads Sing was published. Age doesn’t matter, though, for the best reason of all—each person is on their own path. Some people will get a yes with their first query (please accept my sincere congratulations if that’s you), and others will wait decades for their deal. Some choose to stop querying altogether. All paths are equally valid. In my family, we are fond of quoting a great-aunt: “Comparisons are odious.”

I’ll probably join AARP. They’re a good organization that offers a lot of benefits, but I’ll also keep writing. My deal with Harper Muse was for two books, and I’m currently finishing up the second draft. I have an idea for a third book that is tapping my brain, demanding to be considered. I’ll also keep being the best Honey I can be to my now two granddaughters, with a little boy on the way, and enjoy my grandmotherhood. My life is full, and I am grateful for every moment, even the hard parts. And with the benefit of hindsight after a life of 63 years (not 62, friend in San Diego), I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Check out Elizabeth Bass Parman’s The Empress of Cooke County here:

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(Why I Choose to Self-Publish My Writing.)

The apartment itself was fairly conveniently located—several blocks away from the Carnegie Museum of Art and my favorite middle eastern restaurant. I tried to sell myself on these features—its central location on a bus route—but the truth was, the tour of the building was a depressing experience that made my future seem bleaker than ever. First, there were the apartment’s cinderblock walls. Then there was the fact that the residents lived out the remainder of their lives within those walls. It was almost impossible for me to imagine that this building would likely be the last address I’d ever have. Still, it was the best option I had, so I was put on the waiting list, which I expected to be on for upwards of a year.

The people in my tiny circle tried to celebrate this milestone of finding affordable housing and being able to move “home.” But it weighed on me; in many ways it felt like an end rather than a beginning.

At that time I was working a few hours a week at a library, and a few years prior I’d abandoned my decades-long filmmaking dreams and converted my creative energy into writing novels. I wrote six novels over four years, and sent out endless query letters to agents. At the risk of sounding ridiculous, I’d hoped that my writing—something I could work on at home—could become a source of modest income. My research, hard though it was to confirm, led me to believe that advances for traditionally-published novels averaged between $5,000 and $20,000. And that sounded like an incredible influx of cash to have every few years. $5,000 would allow me to catch up on buying all the things food stamps didn’t cover, like bras and shoes, household necessities and toiletries.

Then my life abruptly changed in a way beyond my imagination.

Two months after looking at the cinderblock-walled apartment, I signed with my first agent. And four weeks after that, Baby Teeth sold in a preempt for $125,000—an amount I’d never envisioned or considered possible. That was the most surreal day of my life: I felt spacey with brain fog, and Rochester had had a blizzard the night before and the world outside my windows was silent and dense with snow. The shock of selling the book for six figures was almost too much to process. I knew my life would change, but it’s taken the years since then to fully grasp the magnitude of those changes.

Check out Zoje Stage’s Dear Hanna here:

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Needless to say, I was no longer eligible for affordable housing, but a few months later I moved into a nice apartment in my favorite Pittsburgh neighborhood. Technically, that was the second thing Baby Teeth “bought” me, the first being a root canal and crown that I’d put off due to lack of money. Then Baby Teeth bought me my first sofa. That was how I thought of everything then: Baby Teeth bought me every element of my new life.

Shortly after moving back to Pennsylvania I was kicked off of federal disability. I’d been working with organizations in NY, and then PA, that helped people on disability return to the work force, and was promised I’d be able to keep my Medicare for a five-year safety net. But Pennsylvania declared me “cured” of my incurable disease and immediately cut off all my benefits. I had a choice to make: Did I want to fight them, or take the risk that I could continue to support myself as an author?

In certain ways it was good that I was so naïve, as I didn’t know most authors couldn’t support themselves with their writing. But I took the gamble, and became fully self-sufficient for the first time in my life. Learning about the ups and downs of the publishing business has been harrowing at times—it’s a precarious way to make a living. But, through being chronically ill and poor, I’d already learned to take life one day at a time, and now I’m more than six years into a career as a professional author.

I’m writing this from my office—a bedroom in the house I purchased shortly before the pandemic. Right now the school across the street is letting out and squealing kids are piling into their big yellow buses. I’m never unaware that I’m here because of a miracle: My writing bought me a house—a home that enabled me to adopt two cats—and changed everything about how I live. And maybe it isn’t surprising, but I’ve been much healthier since having more money in the bank. Being poor is incredibly stressful, and a lot of life’s little problems can be managed with a bit of cash.

Publishing a first novel is a noteworthy milestone for many people, but rarely is it something that changes the entirety of their lives. For me, Baby Teeth is the demarcation point between a life of real limitations, and hope for endless possibilities.

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(I Got 8 Agent Offers; Then, My Book Died on Sub.)

First, I was the National Event Coordinator for Borders Books & Music in Manhattan. I am not sure if that helped or not, but it was around that time that I managed to score an agent for my first novel. And not just any agent but a seasoned one at a high profile agency. After we met in her office and decided to change the working title I had from Place of Angels to Without Grace, I was thrilled and believed I was going to get that break I longed for. 

However, as it turns out, this particular agent didn’t seem hungry enough to pitch me since she never sent me any feedback, which I found to be odd. When I did dare to reach out, she had one excuse after another, including a back injury and then pneumonia. However, not wanting to be an annoying client, I didn’t press her on it and after months of little communication I decided to move on, which is when another high profile agent wanted to represent me, but first needed to know just what editors had already seen it. 

As far as I knew, no one had, but shockingly, when I informed that first agent I was moving on, she sent a long list where the manuscript was ostensibly sent out and rejected. I say ostensibly since when I’d asked about those rejections, she told me they were all over the phone without any proof. Therefore, the second agent didn’t want to risk her reputation by sending it to anyone on that long list who may have already seen it. 

I knew something wasn’t right, but I also knew I would look like nothing more than a bitter failed writer if I spoke out about this, especially since I was a nobody and new to this game. That didn’t change the fact, though, that I was sabotaged and my novel, Without Grace, would never see the light of day.

Yet, I continued writing.

Eventually, President and CEO of iUniverse heard about what happened to me thanks to some friends who’d felt I’d been wronged and she asked to have her editorial team take a look at WG. They loved it and saw its potential, asking if they could not only publish it but put it in their star program. After some hesitation, due to the negative response toward self-publishing, aka vanity publishing at the time, even though it wouldn’t cost me a cent to do so, I eventually agreed and it went on to win some awards and was even a best seller for a short time in some Long Island bookstores.

Then around the time Borders Books folded, I started my own publishing consulting business, which is still active today. However, I continued to write while trying unsuccessfully to find another agent for my second novel, Of Little Faith. But upon reading it, a very small publisher I’d worked with as their publicist wanted to publish it. I wasn’t given an advance but I didn’t have to pay anything either to bring it to publication. Sadly, unbeknownst to me, the publisher was seriously ill and unable in helping me in my efforts to get the novel in the hands of reviewers and readers and it didn’t go very far.

Yet, I continued to write.

I had a third agent take me on for my third novel, The Gathering Brood. Unlike that first agent, she sent me the rejections from editors at the big houses. They were gratifying, but still rejections. After some time, this agent informed me that she was retiring. Who could blame her? Getting a book deal was proving to be close to impossible, even for an agent who had success in placing other author’s works. Presently, that third novel is dormant.

So what did I do? Well, while opening an independent bookstore and then closing it four years later, I continued to write while keeping busy with my own business. But then, to my surprise, an agent, someone I knew from the industry but who didn’t start out as an agent, reached out to me, curious to see my latest work and agreed to represent my novel, Before She Was a Finley, a prequel to Without Grace. Surely, this was bound to be the one to get that book deal!

Meanwhile, I had been working as a publicist for a number of years for Easton Studio Press’s founder and president, David Wilk. I was always impressed with the books he published and his commitment to the authors over his 50-year career in the business. Therefore, when I saw that he started All Night Books, a new imprint that publishes fiction, my wheels started turning. 

I was tired of waiting, especially since two years had gone by with my newest agent that was yielding no return. Remember, I’ve been doing this for over 30 years. So I suggested to David we could perhaps have a barter deal. I’d do publicity for him on my dime and he’d take care of publishing Before She Was a Finley on my behalf. Even though this was unprecedented, he agreed and we signed a contract, with David saying that he was publishing my book because he believes it is a terrific novel. 

Immediately, I got busy and began doing what I hired myself to do and got out there to promote Before She Was a Finley, which is scheduled to be published on September 10. True, I still haven’t gotten that major book deal I’d envisioned all those years ago and may never. Yet, I continue to write. 

Check out Carol Hoenig’s Before She Was a Finley here:

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(Find Success Pitching to Magazine Families.)

Their market may be finely niche, but their revenue comes from solid advertising or financial support, and they pay their writers. These markets pay in the mid-range, from 10 to 50 cents per word, and the rejection rate runs lower than most publications.

But wait, you say. Don’t you have to be an alumnus, a practicing professional or a specific graduate? Not necessarily.

What Is an Alumni Publication?

There isn’t a college alumni association that doesn’t have a magazine that represents the finer points and successful stories of the college, its students, its faculty, and its graduates. The college may be no larger than Berea College in Kentucky with 1,600 students, or a huge university like Arizona State University with over 75,000, but they use a magazine to keep its alumni, otherwise known as financial donors, informed. Those articles have to be written by experienced writers, and they rely heavily on freelance.

Do you have to be a graduate? While having graduated from the school gives you a leg up, you don’t necessarily have to have graduated from there if you have intimate knowledge of the school’s accomplishments or any of its successful graduates.

What Type of Topics

Each school has a unique voice in its publication, so get your hands on several issues and study them hard. In studying Clemson World, published four times a year, you’ll find topics such as cultural heritage, award winners, medical breakthroughs, energy and environmental accomplishments (and the students and/or professors who orchestrated them). Then you’ll find recipes suitable for tailgating and spotlights on graduates who’ve done something phenomenal, like ex-governor David Beasley, a Clemson graduate who now serves as executive director of the United Nations World Food Programme. There are personal essays on graduates, especially those multi-generational graduate families, and even those who are younger and breaking into their careers, making Clemson proud. It’s not just about football.

The topics are insanely vast. The bigger the school, the bigger the stories, but don’t negate the accomplishments of a smaller school. For instance, around this writer’s geography can be found a dozen colleges or universities, and a day doesn’t go by that she doesn’t come across a graduate from one of them. Some are politicians, others entrepreneurs, others doing volunteer work that matters. Find out their alma mater, define their niche and accomplishments, then pitch wherever they graduated from.

Dig deeply enough, and you might find quite the intriguing human interest piece. Discover how graduates and professors and students are making a difference in the world, and you have much potential for column and features pieces .

Create a Theme and Build on It

To increase your potential of writing for alumni markets, rather than just interviewing an interesting person, consider a theme around which you can build a story that lists three or four or more people.

How many graduates are publishing books these days? Have any of them become bestsellers or demonstrated popularity in the state? On one hand you might find a history or anthropology grad who published on a particular piece in history. Then you run across an English graduate now writing literary fiction, and a law graduate covering political issues.

From another angle, choose a city in your state and research several grads making a difference in that immediate geography, focusing on their impact and efforts to create a better quality of life for those particular residents.

Do a piece on teachers, entrepreneurs, medical professionals, or volunteerism. Learn about those making social change. Consider pieces on new students making great strides already in their young lives.

Do a Q&A Piece

Consider a piece where graduates are asked the same question and offer advice to students. Or have them explain what graduating from their school means to them. Ask how said college impacted them as human beings, not just professionals. Have graduates offer their best tailgate recipe. Show the intimate and more personal side of these people.

Reach Back Into History

Every college has a history it’s proud of. The older the school, the richer the history. A lot of this history is phenomenal. Some history turns into something to overcome, with the success story being how growth occurred from that effort.

How did a school get started and how and why did it change? Who are the people, or their heirs, who instigated change? How are they preserving the history of their ancestors?

What about long-term friendships from college days that evolved into something poignant or earth-shaking? That turned into partnerships or lifesaving events?

Interview an elder graduate in the winter of their life, demonstrating what they remember so many decades ago, how their college life molded them, and how times have changed, maybe what was better then or may be better now.

Don’t Say You Are Not an Alumnus

Instead, pitch a fantastic story. Alumni/university magazines could even become your niche, painting you as an expert in finding how colleges are making a difference in the world. Clemson World, for instance, recently posted 12 contributing writers in its masthead, with only three being graduates.

(4-Step Strategy to Pitch Articles and Get Published.)

The bigger the publication, the more open they are to freelancers, often growing their topics into a broader scale. Magazines for Johns Hopkins, University of Toronto, Northern Arizona, Boston University, and Columbia University, for instance, love big ideas similar to that of commercial glossy magazines.

Get your foot in the door by presenting a piece that not only screams a particular school but also encompasses a great theme, a theme so great that your lack of sheepskin from that university does not matter, because you can talk it and have found the resources to paint it beautifully.

The Magazines Are Not Competition With Each Other

Each university has a unique market, in other words, the readership does not cross, therefore, the magazines do not compete against each other. The theme you choose for one publication can be utilized in several others, with different graduates/students/professors, of course. One concept can be reapplied several times with different angles. For instance, a piece on graduates who have published books can apply to every magazine of every university.

Alumni magazines are grossly overlooked. They are often free to alumni, and you can get your hands on them easily enough through the publisher or the graduates themselves.

Start, however, with the one that pertains to you, your alma mater. Make them look at you twice because you finished from that school. Write-what-you-know applies and could land you your first few credits before you branch out into other schools.

Go back to school and show them how good a writer you’ve evolved into, and you might even become one of their focal pieces yourself.

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