The Business of Being a Writer

The Business of Being a Writer

Permissions, A Survival Guide

Susan M. Bielstein

The Craft of Research

Wayne C. Booth, Gregory G. Colomb, Joseph M. Williams, Joseph Bizup, and William T. FitzGerald

The Chicago Guide to Fact-Checking

Brooke Borel

Writing Abroad

Peter Chilson and Joanne B. Mulcahy

Immersion

Ted Conover

The Art of Creative Research

Philip Gerard

Getting It Published

William Germano

What Editors Do

Peter Ginna, editor

Storycraft

Jack Hart

Behind the Book

Chris Mackenzie Jones

A Poet’s Guide to Poetry

Mary Kinzie

Developmental Editing

Scott Norton

The Subversive Copy Editor

Carol Fisher Saller

The Writer’s Diet

Helen Sword

The Business of Being a Writer

JANE FRIEDMAN

THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS

Chicago and London

The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637

The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London

© 2018 by Jane Friedman

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews. For more information, contact the University of Chicago Press, 1427 E. 60th St., Chicago, IL 60637.

Published 2018

Printed in the United States of America

27 26 25 24 23 22 21 20 19 18    1 2 3 4 5

ISBN-13: 978-0-226-39302-5 (cloth)

ISBN-13: 978-0-226-39316-2 (paper)

ISBN-13: 978-0-226-39333-9 (e-book)

DOI: https://doi.org/10.7208/chicago/9780226393339.001.0001

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Friedman, Jane, author.

Title: The business of being a writer / Jane Friedman.

Other titles: Chicago guides to writing, editing, and publishing.

Description: Chicago ; London : The University of Chicago Press, 2018. | Series: Chicago guides to writing, editing, and publishing. | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2017038268 | ISBN 9780226393025 (cloth : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780226393162 (pbk. : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780226393339 (e-book)

Subjects: LCSH: Authorship—Economic aspects. | Literary agents. | Authors and publishers.

Classification: LCC PN161 .F744 2018 | DDC 808.02—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017038268

This paper meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

For my mom, because when I announced my intention to study creative writing in college, she never suggested I pursue something more lucrative

CONTENTS

Introduction

PART ONE: FIRST STEPS  Making a Life as a Writer

1. Can You Make a Living as a Writer?

2. The Art of Career Building

3. Generating Leads, Gaining Exposure

4. Pursuing an MFA or Other Graduate Degree

PART TWO: UNDERSTANDING THE PUBLISHING INDUSTRY

5. Trade Book Publishing

6. Magazine Publishing

7. Online and Digital Media

8. Literary Publishing in the Twenty-First Century

PART THREE: GETTING PUBLISHED

9. Book Publishing: Figuring Out Where Your Book Fits

10. Understanding Literary Agents

11. Researching Agents and Publishers

12. Book Queries and Synopses

13. The Nonfiction Book Proposal

14. Working with Your Publisher

15. Self-Publishing

16. Publishing Short Stories, Personal Essays, or Poetry

17. Traditional Freelance Writing

18. Online Writing and Blogging

PART FOUR: THE WRITER AS ENTREPRENEUR  Laying the Foundation

19. Author Platform

20. Your Online Presence: Websites, Social Media, and More

21. Turning Attention into Sales

22. The Basics of Book Launches

PART FIVE: HOW WRITERS MAKE MONEY

23. Starting a Freelance Career

24. Freelance Editing and Related Services

25. Teaching and Online Education

26. Contests, Prizes, Grants, Fellowships

27. Crowdfunding and Donations

28. Memberships, Subscriptions, and Paywalls

29. Advertising and Affiliate Income

30. Pursuing a Publishing Career

31. Corporate Media Careers

Afterword

Appendix 1: Contracts 101

Appendix 2: Legal Issues

Appendix 3: Recommended Resources

Acknowledgments and Credits

Notes

Index

INTRODUCTION

Thousands of people dream of writing and publishing full-time, yet few have been told how to make that dream a reality. Working writers may have no more than a rudimentary understanding of how the publishing and media industry works, and longtime writing professors may be out of the loop as to what it takes to build a career in an era of digital authorship, amid more competition—and confusing advice—than ever. Even instructors who are well informed and up to date on the practical aspects of a writing career may believe their job is to teach the art and craft, or feel that students shouldn’t allow business concerns to influence their voice or direction as writers.

The Business of Being a Writer takes it on principle that learning about the publishing industry will lead to a more positive and productive writing career. While business savvy may not make up for mediocre writing, or allow any author to skip important stages of creative development, it can reduce anxiety and frustration. And it can help writers avoid bad career decisions—by setting appropriate expectations of the industry, and by providing tools and information on how to pursue meaningful, sustainable careers in writing and publishing on a full-time or part-time basis. Because writing degrees may have little or no impact on earnings potential or industry knowledge, this guide is as much for students—or graduates—of undergraduate or graduate writing programs as it is for writers working outside such programs.

Despite ongoing transformations in the publishing industry, there are fundamental business principles that underlie writing and publishing success, and those principles are this book’s primary focus. Writers who learn to recognize the models behind successful authorship and publication will feel more empowered and confident to navigate a changing field, to build their own plans for long-term career development.

One underlying assumption in this guide is that many creative writers—particularly those pursuing formal degrees—want to build careers based on publishing books. It seems like common sense: literary agents sell and profit from book-length work, not single stories or essays; and getting anyone (whether a reader or a publisher) to pay for a book is easier than getting them to pay for an online article or poem. But book publishing is often just one component of a full-time writing career. Perhaps you’ve read personal essays by debut authors exposing the fact that the average book advance does not equate to a full-time living for even a single year. Such essays reveal unrealistic expectations about the industry—or magical thinking: I will be the exception and earn my living from writing great books.

This guide does offer guidance on how to get a book published, a milestone that remains foundational to most creative writing careers. But because very few people can make a living solely by writing and publishing books, it goes further, showing why this one pursuit should not constitute one’s entire business model. Earnings can come as well from other sectors of publishing, other activities that involve writing and the types of skills one picks up as a writer. Online media and journalism, for example, now play a significant role in even fiction writers’ careers, so this guide spends considerable time on skills and business models important to the digital media realm. When combining these skills with the entrepreneurial attitude and knowledge this guide teaches, a writer will be better prepared to piece together a writing life that is satisfying and sustainable. In the end, some writers may discover they prefer other types of writing and publishing—and not just because it’s tough to make a living wholly from books.

If you are a writer looking for the business education you feel you never received, I hope this book provides the missing piece. While I try to be encouraging, and want you to feel capable and well informed, I don’t sugarcoat the hard realities of the business. When you decide to pursue a writing career, you’ll experience frustration, again and again, and not just in the form of rejection letters. But it helps to know what’s coming and that your experience is normal. Writers who are properly educated about the industry typically feel less bitterness and resentment toward editors, agents, and other professionals. They are less likely to see themselves as victimized and less likely to be taken advantage of. It’s the writers who lack education on how the business works who are more vulnerable to finding themselves in bad situations.

HOW THIS GUIDE COMPLEMENTS OTHER RESOURCES

There are innumerable resources available to help writers with the business side of the writing life:

•  books on how to get a book published or how to self-publish

•  niche guides, on how to be a freelance magazine writer, how to market and promote your work, how to build a platform, etc.

•  annual directories, such as Writer’s Market, which list thousands of places where writers can get published

While the best of these guides offer deep dives into specific topics, the book you’re now reading takes a strategic, high-level look at how writers can establish a lifelong writing career. It includes overviews of the major industries of interest to writers: book publishing, magazine publishing, and online media. When launching a career as an author or freelancer, it helps to understand the business models of these industries, what their pressure points are, and what kind of treatment (and payment!) is to be expected. This guide offers nuts-and-bolts information on how to get published, but its larger purpose is to push writers to apply the idea of a business model to their own careers. Many writers end up teaching, or holding down a day job, to support their writing, which is neither good nor bad—but often it’s an accident or shadow career the writer never intended. This guide aims to provide writers with information that will help them make deliberate, informed choices, and consider what kind of compromises might be needed to reach their particular goals for earnings or prestige.

USING THIS GUIDE IN THE CLASSROOM: NOTES FOR INSTRUCTORS

The business aspects of writing and publishing are often neglected in creative writing classrooms, and I think it does students a grave disservice. Few graduates will secure full-time teaching positions, and many will have gone into debt to pay for their degrees; for them, the dream of a writing career may be shunted to the side in favor of reliable, well-paying work to repay their loans.

I do not see creative writing students as too delicate or underdeveloped to handle the business side of the writing life—nor do I view these matters as extracurricular. Rather, I believe students deserve considered guidance on the choices they must make as players in a larger industry. Graduate writing students, in particular, are often people who are well into adulthood, who may have significant responsibilities awaiting them post-degree. If programs want their graduates to flourish, they need to expose their students to the foundations of publishing industry success, and not give the false impression that it all boils down to excellent writing.

The number-one question I’ve received over my twenty years in publishing has always been How do I get X published? or Where can I publish X? Students may, understandably, be focused on this question, and if the overriding course goal is to give them the tools to answer it, then part 3, Getting Published, may be the place to turn to first. This section works well in conjunction with research into publishing markets and opportunities, such as those listed in the back of the AWP Chronicle and Poets & Writers magazine or in annual market directories. For such a course, each student could choose at least one manuscript (short or long) that they feel is polished and ready to place, then research the market for it, write a cover or query letter, and submit their materials (and wait). However, I think grasping how the industry works is foundational to getting published, which is why I cover it earlier, in part 2, Understanding the Publishing Industry, Its four chapters cover books, magazines, and online and digital media, as well as literary publishing challenges. These can be read and assigned in any order, depending on how the course is structured.

Most writers, in their desire to get published, put the cart before the horse: They want to see their work accepted and validated before they’ve thought through what their larger goals are. While not every step (or even most steps) in a writer’s life has to be analyzed as to its strategic benefit, no writer wants to wake up one day, after many years of effort, and realize they were mistaken in their expectations about how a particular publishing activity would lead to a particular income or career. Part 1 therefore looks at the first steps in making a life as a writer, and how to be strategic, smart, and efficient. It can be used to complement any type of writing class, even craft-focused classes, since it partly serves as a wake-up call to those who may not realize how little money is earned through traditional publishing, particularly in the literary market.

Part 4, The Writer as Entrepreneur, can be seen as a continuation of part 1. It explores more advanced territory and is best suited for classes focused on the business of writing and publishing. It deconstructs the components of an author platform, discusses activities related to maintaining an online presence, and presents ways to market, promote, and sell one’s books, services, or products of any kind.

Part 5, How Writers Make Money, looks at how writers ultimately make a living, either full-time or part-time. (Writers who dream of starting their own publications or presses should look at this part closely, along with the applicable chapters from part 2.) I can imagine students cherry-picking methods that complement their strengths, and beginning to sketch out business models for their careers. Looking at my own model, I mix freelance writing, online writing, editing, online teaching, and affiliate income. The combinations are endless, and part 5 drives home that a writer’s income is almost always cobbled together from many different sources.

Finally, this book has a companion website, businessofwriting.org, that offers examples of submissions materials (queries, synopses, and book proposals), as well as links to supporting resources and information.

Using This Guide in a Craft-Focused Class

As mentioned earlier, part 1 is the most important reading for students whose expectations for their writing go beyond treating it as an enjoyable hobby. While writers young and old can have trouble even calling themselves writers (the term aspiring writer is used far too much!), I find that many aspirants, if pressed, will confess to dreams of publication and a life centered on writing. Whether they admit it in public or in a classroom is another matter. That’s why I advocate spending at least one class period in upper-level craft-focused writing courses discussing issues related to the business of writing, encouraging students to share what surprised them or what questions were raised by their reading of part 1 and perhaps part 2. It can also be eye-opening for students to research the career trajectory of a contemporary, living writer (especially one on the syllabus) and to look for interviews where the writer offers any transparency as to their earnings, business model, or frustrations with the publishing business.

Part One

FIRST STEPS

Making a Life as a Writer

In the history of professional writing and authorship, there have been several revolutions in how writers get published and get paid: the invention of the printing press (mid-1400s), the legislation of copyright (early 1700s), the growth of literacy (1800s), and the expansion of the internet and digital publishing (2000s).

Some believe the digital era is making it increasingly difficult for authors to earn a decent living from their writing. I don’t agree: it has always been difficult. Every revolution, including the one we’re living through now, stirs up excitement, but also confusion and fear of change. In the late 1800s, during what some now consider a golden age for publishing (for magazines especially), you could find disgruntled writers. One complained to a US congressional committee that he did not know any author who made a living by writing literary work. Of all the learned professions, he said, Literature is the most poorly paid.¹ The truth is that many writers’ careers, during every era, have been gifted into existence by birth, by privilege, by marriage.

Throughout history, authors have laid the blame for their less than desirable economic situation on publishers, but such accusations almost always betray ignorance of how publishing works. In the digital era, it is also common to blame authors’ suffering on Silicon Valley giants, such as Google. Neither industry deserves most of the blame we heap upon it. During each revolution, authors (and publishers as well) typically seek to preserve the existing system, even if new methods of publishing and distribution have rendered it unworkable. Today, authors’ organizations express overarching pessimism: author earnings are lower than ever, they dubiously claim. But this is no reason to be dissuaded from a writing career if that’s what you want. It remains possible to make a decent living from writing if you’re willing to pay attention to how the business works, devise a business model tailored to your goals, and adapt as needed.

Many serious writers take for granted that art and business are antithetical to one another. Before a word is published—before they’ve encountered any aspect of the business of their art—they assume that they are bad at business or that attending to business concerns will pollute their creative efforts. Too few are open to the possibility that the business side calls for as much imagination as the artistic process itself. Industry expert Richard Nash once tweeted, Business & marketing are about understanding networks and patterns of influence and behavior. Writers can handle that.² To be sure, business can and does ask for compromises, but that’s not always to the detriment of art. A bit of friction, some kind of barrier—a net on the tennis court!—is healthy.

In the literary community, there’s a persistent and dangerous myth of the starving artist, a presumption that real art doesn’t earn money. In fact, art and business can each inform the other, and successful writers throughout history have proven themselves savvy at making their art pay. Dana Gioia, both a celebrated poet and former vice president at General Foods, said, There is a natural connectivity, at least in American culture, between the creative and the commercial.³ An open attitude toward business can provide focus, discipline, and, sometimes most importantly, self-awareness about what you want and expect from your writing career.

The following chapters will help you take the first steps toward a writing life based on your own strengths, rather than some unattainable ideal. To that end, they focus on the big picture of building your career. Details about specific types of writing and publishing will follow in later parts of the book.

1 : Can You Make a Living as a Writer?

The ability to make a living by the pen was rare before the emergence of the printing press, the subsequent growth of a literate middle class, and the resulting demand for reading material. Even then, it wasn’t customary for printers (who also acted as publishers) to pay authors, and they owned authors’ works outright. For their part, writers resisted payment even when it was offered: it was considered crass to accept money for something many saw as sacred. Writers who were able to focus on their art were either of high birth or benefited from the generosity of patrons. It wasn’t until around the mid-eighteenth century, not long after the first copyright laws were enacted, that it became feasible and socially acceptable for writers to live solely off book sales or payments from publishers. Samuel Johnson, in what one historian calls the Magna Carta of the modern author, was able to reject support from a patron because his work was so commercially successful.¹

But exceptionally few writers have ever been able to make a living solely off what they wished to write. While F. Scott Fitzgerald made good money writing short stories for magazines, he also pursued Hollywood writing stints, which he didn’t really enjoy. William Faulkner also wrote scripts. Chekhov wrote newspaper articles. Beckett translated for Reader’s Digest. And so on.

To make your writing the foundation of a sustainable living will likely involve compromise. If you want to realize monetary gain, you have to be willing to treat (some of) your art as a business. No writer is entitled to earn a living from his writing, or even to be paid for his writing; once you seek payment, you have to consider the market for what you’re producing, especially during a time when supply outpaces demand. This is one of the most difficult tasks writers face: to adopt a market-driven eye when necessary—to see their work as something to be positioned and sold. It helps to have psychological distance from the work, which comes with time and training. Writers who see this as a creative challenge rather than a burden are more likely to survive the cycle of pitching and rejection without sinking into hopelessness.

While there are far easier ways to make a living than as a writer, that is not because good writing is at odds with commercial success. It’s because most people are not willing to learn the business and do what’s required to make writing pay. They’re looking for what’s easy. And writing for publication isn’t, at least not for most writers at the start of their careers.

That said, some types of writing are more beholden to marketplace concerns than others. Expecting to make a living through freelance writing or journalism is a very different proposition than expecting to make a living through creative writing (such as novels, short stories, or poetry). Freelancers and journalists must pay attention to the market. They are often writers for hire, and don’t typically expect—or shouldn’t expect—to make a living just from writing what they want. Creative writers, on the other hand, are usually presumed—and often told—to focus on their craft and mostly disregard trends, though what they write may of course be influenced by what can be sold to a commercial publisher. Either type of writing may be sustainable only with some form of patronage, whether from individuals or from institutions—as has been the case throughout history. But there is definitely a bigger challenge ahead for the creative writer who expects to make a living by writing, because there are few paying opportunities for such work outside of book publication, and the landscape is competitive.

Creative writing instructors sometimes claim that focusing on business too soon is dangerous. It’s true that it can cause unproductive anxiety, but that’s mainly because of bad information and gossip that passes from writer to writer. For example, some writers are led to believe they have to develop a readership before they sell a book, or build their platform to become more desirable to agents or publishers. That’s true only in a small percentage of cases, and rarely does it apply to the types of work produced in creative writing programs. This persistent whirlpool of misinformation about the industry is yet another reason business issues ought to be addressed up front and early.

Here’s where the biggest danger lies, if there is one: Business concerns can distract from getting actual writing done, and can even become a pleasurable means of avoiding the work altogether. No one avoids writing like writers. Producing the best work possible is hard, and focusing on agents, social media marketing, or conference-going feels easier. Writers may trick themselves into thinking that by developing their business acumen, they are improving as writers—but all the business acumen in the world can’t make up for inferior writing.

It’s also possible that too much attention to business concerns could stymie experimentation. Ideally, creative writers are always experimenting, failing, and improving in some manner. An overbearing focus on work that leads to a paycheck can derail less commercial work that, over the long term, might break boundaries or be more meaningful artistically.

IS IT BETTER JUST TO HAVE A DAY JOB?

If thinking about the business of writing causes you to feel, at best, uncomfortable, then it may be better to keep your pursuit of it unadulterated by market concerns. Some literary legends have never experienced conventional employment, pursuing a writing life underwritten by existing wealth or family support (Gertrude Stein and Jane Austen, for example). But many held day jobs: Franz Kafka worked for an insurance company, Herman Melville as a schoolteacher and customs inspector, and Louisa May Alcott as a seamstress and governess— to name but a few. For some writers, the day job actually fosters their creative work. (Elizabeth Hyde Stevens’s essay on Borges’s life and work as a librarian offers one example.)²

When agents, editors, and other writers say, Don’t quit your day job, it is simultaneously the best advice and the worst advice. On the one hand, it helps moderate one’s expectations and acknowledges the most common outcome for writers: you’ll need another form of income. But it also perpetuates the misconception that writing can’t or won’t make you a living. It can, just probably not in the ways you would prefer.

If your idea of the writing life centers on a remote garret in which you scribble away in quiet isolation and then deliver your genius unto the world—then yes, you’ll need a day job, or wealth. However, if your idea of the writing life allows for community engagement, working with different types of clients, or digital media prowess, then you’re in a better frame of mind to make a full-time living as a writer.

THE DIFFICULT EARLY YEARS

Many early-career writing attempts are not publishable, even after revision, yet are necessary for a writer’s growth. A writer who has just finished her first book or short work probably doesn’t realize this, and may take the rejection process very hard. That’s why publishing experts typically advise that writers start work on their next project: move on, and don’t get stuck waiting to publish the first one.

In his series on storytelling, Ira Glass says:

All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. The first couple years that you’re making stuff, what you’re making isn’t so good. OK? It’s not that great. It’s really not that great. It’s trying to be good, it has ambition to be good, but it’s not quite that good. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, your taste is still killer, and your taste is good enough that you can tell that what you’re making is kind of a disappointment to you. . . . You can tell that it’s still sort of crappy. A lot of people never get past that phase. A lot of people, at that point, they quit.³

If you can’t perceive the gap—or if you haven’t gone through the phase—you probably aren’t reading enough. Writers can develop good taste and understand what quality work is by reading writers they admire and want to emulate. Writers improve over time by practicing their craft in addition to getting focused feedback from experienced people who push them to improve and do better.

As a young editor, recently out of school, I asked professor and author Michael Martone if he could tell which of his students were going to succeed as writers—was there a defining characteristic? He told me it was the students who kept writing after they left school, after they were off the hook to produce material on a deadline or for a grade. The most talented students, he said, weren’t necessarily the ones who followed through and put in the hours of work required to reach conventional publishing success.

Similarly, when Ta-Nehisi Coates was interviewed by the Atlantic, he said, The older you get, that path [of writing] is so tough and you get beat up so much that people eventually go to business school and they go and become lawyers. If you find yourself continuing up until the age of thirty-five or so . . . you will have a skill set . . . and the competition will have thinned out.⁴

Few demonstrate the persistence required to make it through the difficult, early years. Some people give up because they lack a mentor or a support system, or because they fail to make the time, or because they become consumed with self-doubt. They don’t believe they’re good enough (and maybe they aren’t) and allow those doubts to become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I used to believe that great work or great talent would eventually get noticed—that quality bubbles to the top. I don’t believe that anymore. Great work is overlooked every day, for a million reasons. Business concerns outweigh artistic concerns. Some writers are just perpetually unlucky. But don’t expect to play the role of poor, starving writer and have people in publishing help you out of sympathy or a sense of moral responsibility. They’re more likely to help writers they see as indefatigable and motivated to help themselves—since they know that’s what the job of a working writer requires. If you find yourself demonizing people in the publishing industry, complaining as if you’re owed something, and feeling bad about your progress relative to other writers, it’s time to find the reset button. Perhaps you’ve been focusing too much on getting published.

No matter how the marketplace changes—and it always does—consider these three questions as you make decisions about your life as a writer:

What satisfies or furthers your creative or artistic goals? This is the reason you got into writing in the first place. Even if you put this on the back burner in order to advance other aspects of your writing and publishing career, don’t leave it out of the equation for long. Otherwise your efforts can come off as mechanistic or uninspired, and you’re more likely to burn out or give up.

What earns you money? Not everyone cares about earning money from writing, but as you gain experience and a name for yourself, the choices you make in this regard become more important. The more professional you become, the more you have to pay attention to what brings the most return on your investment of time and energy. As you succeed, you won’t have time to pursue every opportunity. You have to stop doing some things.

What grows your audience? Gaining readers can be just as valuable as earning money. It’s an investment that pays off over time. Sometimes it’s smart to make trade-offs that involve earning less money now in order to grow readership, because having more readers will put you in a better position in the future. (For example, you might focus on writing online, rather than for print, to develop a more direct line to readers.)

This book helps you sort through questions 2 and 3—that’s where writers lack guidance. The first question is a personal decision that I assume most writers have already considered. It’s unlikely that every piece of writing you do, or every opportunity you pursue, will advance artistic, monetary, and readership goals. Commonly you can get two of the three. Sometimes you’ll pursue projects with only one of these factors in play. You get to decide based on your priorities at a given point in time.

A book that strongly influenced how I think about my writing career is The Art of Possibility by Rosamund Stone Zander and Benjamin Zander. In it they write, Many of the circumstances that seem to block us in our daily lives may only appear to do so based on a framework of assumptions we carry with us. Draw a different frame around the same set of circumstances and new pathways come into view.⁵ Consider, for example, the assumptions that art can’t pay, that great writing is created in isolation, or that serious writers never consider the reader. These are all frameworks that can hinder you. An open attitude about what the writing life might look like—based on your own, unique goals, not someone else’s standards—is an invaluable asset. While some may consider the Zanders’ perspective to be hopelessly idealistic or naive (or both), writers rarely coast into a paying, satisfying career that’s free of trouble and frustration. So the ability to reframe dilemmas rather than viewing them as dead ends is like rocket fuel to continued progress.

Finally, I’ve witnessed many writers hit their heads against the wall trying to publish or gain acclaim for a particular type of work, even as they succeed wildly with something else—that they don’t think is prestigious or important enough. Getting caught up in prestige is perhaps one of the most destructive inclinations of all. Paul Graham has written elegantly on this, comparing prestige to a powerful magnet that warps even your beliefs about what you enjoy. It causes you to work not on what you like, but what you’d like to like.⁶ Avoiding this trap is easier said than done. Most of us live under the weight of expectations put upon us by parents, teachers, peers, and the larger community. Breaking free of their opinions can be liberating, but what others think of us also contributes to how we form our identities. It’s not a problem you can solve as much as acknowledge and manage. Still, if you can at least let go of the many myths about writing, and pursue what you truly enjoy with as much as excellence as possible, you can shape a writing life that is not only uniquely your own, but one that has a better chance of becoming a lifelong career.

2 : The Art of Career Building

It is no great thing to publish something in the digital era. Many of us now publish and distribute with the click of a button