What kind of writer do you want to be?
plus an interview with Oregon Home Magazine Editor Emily Grosvenor
Hiya writers,
Have you had your coffee yet? I’m on cup three and I’ve changed this intro five times and there’s so much to get to today so I’m going to stop intro-ing and get to it.
If you’re new here: Welcome! One More Question is a newsletter for nonfiction writers who want to do the work, even when writing is harder than ever. So thank you for being here and allowing me to push you to keep writing, no matter what. In this issue, you’ll find:
The story of a conversation that made me doubt myself
My favorite things this week (one listen, one read)
Pitch opportunities! These editors want to hear from you.
A Q&A with Oregon Home Magazine Editor, Emily Grosvenor, who shares tips on how space and things can have a big impact on our work.
If you haven’t yet subscribed, type your email in that box below. There are big things coming that I’m so excited to share with you all!
What kind of writer do you want to be?
We were standing on the edge of the Yellowstone River. It was late afternoon and the sun was high and harsh and even the little shrubby trees seemed to hunch over in the heat. Maybe it was the sun, or maybe it was the self-doubt I’d been battling for days, surrounded by so many talented people on a week-long environmental writing retreat, that would make me take the next moment so very personally.
One of the workshop leaders was talking. I think he had started speaking to just one person but then three, then four of us were hovering on the edge of the conversation, drawn in by the possibility of hearing some great secret from an accomplished writer.
This mentor is an investigative, long-form journalist with a coveted list of top-tier bylines. He’s spent time in war zones and accompanied interview subjects on backcountry hunting trips. His stories have guns and conflict and also captivating prose. And he has the commanding presence and the square jawline of someone who I assume is generally taken seriously, whether he’s surrounded by people in suits or hungry writers in their hiking boots.
He told us he writes only four or five stories a year. His stories require months of deep reporting. They take an emotional toll on him. He can’t possibly focus on more than one at a time.
But how? I wanted to know. How do you get someone to pay you the big bucks to write the big stories?
I didn’t ask so he didn’t answer. Instead he said this: “It’s the trust fund kids who will take 300 bucks to write something online—they’re ruining it for all of us.”
Did he really just say that? My heart rate quickened. I lost control over whatever my face was doing—maybe it looked shocked. Maybe ashamed.
I’ve written lots of articles for $300 (or less). I’m not ruining it for anyone! I’m just trying to make it work for me! I’ve worked my ass off to pay my bills by writing online articles for $300.
I felt as though he’d just drawn a line in the sand between serious writers like him and writers who will do whatever to get their work published on one of those online magazines. (like, me??) The insinuation that those writers must have trust funds was salt in the wound.
It’s safe to say, he hit a nerve.
The thing is, I’ve been lots of different kind of writers.
Days later I would leave that retreat and return to a job where I was churning out search engine optimized articles about gear I’d never used and places I’d never been to. It certainly wasn’t my dream job, but I learned how to edit and I learned about SEO and I learned how to talk to people who aren’t writers about why stories really matter.
Before that, I wrote lots of freelance articles. Some of them were Serious Stories. Some of them were listicles. I was paid less than $300 for some and lots more for others. I also wrote courses and newsletters and white papers and website copy and other things with words. For a year I crafted social media posts for sales consultants who yelled into their headsets while I tried to write in bottom-line, circle-back jargon, pairing it with stock photos of people who looked deliriously happy while sitting at conference tables.
I’ve been many different kinds of writers, and I’ve worked a lot of different jobs, and the not-so-great jobs and the less exciting assignments have made me a more flexible writer, a more empathetic writer, a writer with more characters and scenes and random experiences from which I can pull from in other writing. The big exciting stories have pushed me to be better, too.
But I’ve never been in a place where I can focus on five big stories a year. The more I think about it, I’m not sure I’d even want that.
The writer/mentor I met in Yellowstone is extremely talented and hard working. He does the work I’d like to do more of myself. Beyond that short-sighted comment, he had a lot to of wisdom to offer. And there was a good point in there, too. If you want to dedicate your time to big stories like he does, you have to charge accordingly, and you have to be willing to devote yourself to months of reporting and writing. It’s very hard work—but the world needs those stories and he finds ways to write them and I find that very inspiring.
(To be clear, $300 can be a perfectly acceptable rate. You might write articles for this much because you’re trying to gain a foothold in this very competitive field. Or you might do it because you’re efficient and the article can be written in a day and that ain’t bad at all!)
I quit my job not long after that retreat because the experience of connecting with other writers and learning from writing mentors gave me a better idea of the kind of writer I want to be. I also raised by rates. (So I actually owe him a thank you.)
I want to be a serious writer with big assignments—yes, most definitely. But I also want to be a writer who lifts up other writers. I want to look at every opportunity as a worthwhile word challenge. Sometimes I want to have fun with writing and sometimes I want to make good money with writing and sometimes I want to try and change the world with my stories. Sometimes I want to spend all day on this newsletter! (And I probably couldn’t do that if I was always in the depths of a massive, multi-month assignment.)
Do you know what kind of writer you want to be?
I think that answer is always changing for most of us. The better question might be: Do you want to keep writing no matter what? If the answer is yes, then no matter what kind of work you’re doing, whether it’s blog posts or big articles or scribbling on napkins during your bartending shift, you’re getting closer and closer to the kind of writer you are and whatever kind(s) of writer you’re meant to be.
My Favorite Things of the Week
David Wallace-Wells, the author of Uninhabitable Earth (the book that made me quit my job to write about climate change) talks climate and COVID-19—how the media is covering both and how the two overlap—in this episode of one of Hot Take.
“My ideas have always been the same, but somehow get muddled and come across differently when I have to verbalize them, marked by long pauses and stutters. People seemed to warm up to me after they read my work, and I realized then, that in my writing I could be anything, and immediately, without the self-consciousness I almost always felt when meeting and getting to know someone new.” — Writing as Code-Switching for the Socially Anxious by Mai Tran
Editors Who Want Your Pitches
Emily Grosvenor, Editor at Oregon Home Magazine, on optimizing our space for creativity
“It can be easy, in this profession, to forget that you've ever finished anything of value, made anything of value, done anything important. Especially in these times -- what if the world has ended and I've never written anything?!”
I love it when writers apply their unique expertise in ways I never would have imagined—which is exactly what Oregon Home Magazine Editor, Emily Grosvenor, does in combining writing with a knack for curating beautiful spaces.
When she’s not working on the latest issue of Oregon Home, Emily is also the COO of The Oracle House, where she helps creatives optimize their space for deeper creative work. This is something that feels especially relevant right now, as so many of us are working from home, feeling distracted by the dishes and our family or roommates or dogs and our inability to go anywhere and so many other things. You can sign up for her newsletter to receive advice and stories on space and creativity.
The advice Emily has to offer is simple but also so brilliant, and I’m excited to go make some adjustments to my desk area after I send this out to all of you!
What originally drew you to writing about the home?
I've always been crazy about spaces. As a kid I'd go with my mom to open houses and dream about what life might be like there. I drew a lot of floor plans and spent a lot of time just imagining what if.
Later, I became a travel writer, since I have always been a person fascinated by experiences of place. Two years ago, I had a debilitating pelvic nerve injury and switched to writing about the home, mostly as Editor of Oregon Home magazine. I no longer have that itchy feet feeling of needing to get out in the world and am most alive when I am tweaking my own home and recording the effects on myself and my family members.
I recently got certified as a Feng Shui consultant and am deeply interested in the connection between environments and behaviors.
Can you describe your home work space? What about it is most important to your productivity?
Mine could be better, but I work with what I have. I have a standing desk facing the room (the Feng Shui power position!) in the corner of our front room. Normally I have the house to myself during work hours, but the entire family is at home during the pandemic, so I sneak there in the mornings before everyone is up to do my work.
Standing is important since it keeps my mind agile and my body safe and aligned and out of pain. I always have the current issue cover and editor's page of Oregon Home framed behind me so I can remember that I am successful and I do know how to finish things!
I am also very much into messaging through objects, so I have a curated book collection on a set of shelves, all writers whose work feeds my own. I also keep a pinboard with checklists of the projects I'm currently working on so I can stay on task.
What’s one tip your have for a writer looking to improve their writing space?
I can't overestimate the power of displaying something that captures the success you have had so far—something that reminds you that you are a person who can finish things. I often have my clients frame a page of poetry from a chapbook, or do a framed object art with their work, print out a piece of gorgeous code, or otherwise display one of their wins. It can be easy, in this profession, to forget that you've ever finished anything of value, made anything of value, done anything important. Especially in these times—what if the world has ended and I've never written anything?! I like a good physical reminder of a mental creation.
Having everything stored digital can feel safe and clutter-free but digital products don't confront you with the value of your own greatness.
How has the current situation and social distancing impacted your creative process? What has been helping you stay productive and creative?
Oh, I'm not being productive at all. I'm giving myself grace in this time to play with my kids. We have learned stop-motion animation, I've made great headway on my giant sloth face cross-stitch, and I've made many delicious and difficult gluten-free baked items. I am basically running a homeschool over here, and I write when I can. Oregon Home is quarterly, and I'm working on the spring issue as well as some shorter pieces for other clients, but I see this moment as an opportunity I'll never get back. We have built a snail terrarium, we have constructed a chicken run, we have memorized some poems. I think we're going to look back on this time and remember it as a gift. It's only really possible because we have been saving for a few years and haven't taken a vacation in three.
You say in one of your Skillshare lessons that every object has a story. That's an interesting concept especially now, when we're all limited in how we find stories. Can you offer some advice on how writers can use their space and their objects to find stories while they're spending more time at home?
I think it is healthy practice to process our own stories through stuff. I am a writer, and yet, I once got rid of 5/6 of my books! I really believe that if the shelf is packed we can't see a space for our own work in the world, like everything has already been written.
Having a more pared down space allows for expansiveness, but that doesn't work that way for everyone. Ever object has a story around how you got it, why you kept it, why you can't get rid of, whom you have to forgive in order to let it go. Sometimes it is about shedding a story that has been thrust upon us by someone else. Sometimes you are haunted by some aspect of your past and you can't move on until you physically say goodbye to it.
Here's an example. In my early 20s, I needed every person I met to fall in love with me. I left a trail of broken hearts. I'm not some amazing looking person, I just knew how to make really nice people fall in love with me, and I had a box of love letters to prove it. I once dated three men in three countries at the same time. I bear a lot of guilt from that era, but I have read those letters, and I ended up giving them to a visual artist to use in her art. So I could forgive myself, let that go, while honoring what were, frankly, really well-written letters.
Now is a great time to find ways to forgive yourself.
and One More Question forYou…
What is one thing you’re already an expert on and what is one thing you want to be an expert on? How can they intersect?
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. How can I efficiently use the knowledge I already have while also looking into a topic that’s newer to me? There are lots of story ideas in the overlap—I know it!
That’s all for now, friends. Thanks for being here!
And please, if you enjoyed this, it would mean so much to me if you shared this with a writer friend or recommended it on social media. 💛 (Thanks, Paige!)
