A faded scrap of paper with "sixty-eight" scribbled on it has hung above my laptop for over three years. The ink is barely legible now, but it serves as a daily reminder: stay the course, be patient.
This note traces back to one of the darkest moments in my writing journey. I'd just walked out of a second interview for an editorial role at a magazine. The job wasn't right—it focused on curating 'branded content,' making ads masquerade as stories. Worse, it would've sidelined my freelance pursuits. My freelancing wasn't booming, but I'd made strides: pitching stories, landing occasional gigs.
Convinced I'd regret settling, I withdrew my application mid-interview. Back in my apartment, nerves jangling but resolve firm, I checked my bank account. Balance: $68. Rent due in 11 days. I shut my laptop, strolled to the corner store, and bought a beer to steady my shaking hands. $65 left.
They say failure stings less when you've given your all. But turning down Plan B with empty pockets? That hurt. By then, I'd written daily for five years—nights after waiting tables or managing food trucks. No weekends off, no vacations. I was reliable, hardworking. Yet reality whispered it was all for naught.
But evidence soon emerged. Bills loomed, but small wins piled up: accepted pitches, an editor circling back with a new assignment. These traced directly to prior efforts—pitches I'd dismissed as wasted time. My 'foundation' was forming, invisible but solid. I kept building.
Today, I write what I love for outlets I've long admired. Few paths offer clear blueprints. You rarely see the foundation, but nothing rises without it. Here's what worked for me:
Not seeing progress breeds productivity paralysis—no tidy checklist to climb the ladder. Combat it by embracing activities you enjoy that fuel growth. I devour great writing (it sharpens mine), draft unpublished pieces, exercise, meditate. These prevent burnout and propel me forward.
I'm rarely idle—not from obsession, but because I've widened 'productive' to include anything advancing my goals.
Prioritize deadlines, yes. But breakthroughs demand ideas, not just speed. Embrace detours. I juggle 5-6 projects, pitch boldly, explore 'unrealistic' ideas. Years of drafts, emails, and experiments yielded paid work and opportunities. Some days lead nowhere, but casting a wide net maximizes serendipity. Treat every pursuit with equal passion.
Trusting the process shines brightest in relationships. Career frustration tempts envy or pettiness, but resist. I've collaborated with dozens of editors—some tough. Yet I always thank them, congratulate promotions, support layoffs, mentor emerging writers.
I track no favors owed. Opportunities flow from mutual goodwill.
My father, a 40-year modern art curator, advised: "Do it long enough, and someone will pay you." I wasn't top writer in high school, nor internship star in college. Crowded fields demand endurance. At 23, peers outnumbered me in talent. By 26, many quit; I persisted—and improved. Opportunities arrived when I was ready.
