Hiya, welcome to The Forever Workshop.

First time? Read this first »

Back again? Here’s what we’ve got for you today:

A workshop for:

Short fiction writers looking for insights, guidance and practical tips on putting together a collection of their work.

Your instructor:

Shome Dasgupta — author of 13 books and former Wigleaf Top 50 series editor

Takeaways:

• Explore four approaches to building a collection — and how each suits your work

• Navigate the logistics: word count, story order, and landing on the perfect title

• Understand the publishing process, from finding the right home to handling setbacks

• Learn from Shome’s transformative experiences with four very different collections

By the end of this workshop you’ll have a clearer idea of what to expect from creating a short story collection, with prompts and exercises to help you shape your own.

Four Ways to Put Together a Short Fiction Collection

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Hiya, welcome to The Forever Workshop.

First time? Read this first »

Back again? Here’s what we’ve got for you today:

A workshop for:

Fiction writers who want to craft three-dimensional, relatable characters that readers, agents and editors will love

Your instructor:

Maurice Carlos Ruffin — award-winning author of national bestseller The American Daughters

Takeaways:

• Five practical methods to elevate and upgrade your characterization

• How to make your protagonist feel distinct and three-dimensional

• How to use your character’s complex inner world to prompt them into action

• How to pile on the challenges and conflict to test your protagonist’s mettle

• An exercise to help you create (or develop) a character with depth and nuance

By the end of this workshop you’ll have a handful of easy ways to deepen your understanding of your protagonist, and be full of brand new character ideas…

Five No-Fail Ways to Create an Amazing Protagonist

Do you find that your protagonist is plain, boring, and uninteresting? Does she refuse to do anything memorable? Is your book petering out as a result?

Today’s workshop will explore different approaches for upgrading your characterization. Because an amazing protagonist is a protagonist that agents, editors, and readers will want to meet.

Here are five failsafe techniques to build a wonderfully engaging main character:

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Hiya, welcome to The Forever Workshop.

First time? Read this first »

Back again? Here’s what we’ve got for you today:

A workshop for:

Writers who want to learn how sentences work (and why sometimes they don’t) so they can self-edit with confidence.

Your instructor:

Helene Kiser — editor, writing teacher and book coach, specializing in personal essays, narrative non-fiction and memoir.

Takeaways:

• Identify the eight common weaknesses that drain your sentences of power

• A 6 step self-editing framework you can use on any piece of writing

• Recognize when breaking the rules might strengthen your work

• Edit your sentences without losing what makes your writing sound like you

• Diagnose whether a sentence problem is about clarity, rhythm, or voice — and fix it accordingly

By the end of this workshop you’ll have learned how to transform barely functional sentences into lines that sparkle with hands-on exercises to sharpen your editorial eye across poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.

Self-editing — Sentence by Sentence

Why self-editing is the most important skill to learn as a writer

The cold truth is that readers don’t owe us their time. We have to earn it, sentence by sentence.

But here’s the thing about sentences: they’re sneaky little devils. When we’re drafting, we’re focused on getting the story down, the argument made, the image captured. But sometimes when we go back and read, something feels... off. Sentences that felt perfectly fine while we were writing them now sound flat. Or muddy. Or like they’re trying to run a marathon while wearing concrete shoes.

But that moment when you reread your work and think “why isn’t this working?” isn’t failure. It’s the beginning of real craft. And improving our editorial eye really is the key to producing good (or great!) writing.

The problem is, well, self-editing can be hard.

As writers, our noggins autocorrect mistakes and fill in gaps before we even notice they’re there.

Or maybe we’re too close to our work to be truly objective. What structural problems? Plot hole where? No logical flaw in that! Whaddya mean I haven’t clarified Aunt Suzie’s obsession with button collecting?

Or we’re just too attached, Gollum-style: My precious, precious, precious words!

The good news? Self-editing at the sentence level stands as one of the soft AND hard skills you can continually improve with practice. And today we’re going to learn some quick, easy strategies to get you started…

The 8 Enemies of Strong Sentences

Before we talk about what makes sentences work, let’s identify what makes them stumble. This is of course not an exhaustive list but a round-up of the usual suspects — the patterns that sneak into our drafts and sap our prose of energy.

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Heya, welcome to The Forever Workshop. First time? Read this. Back again? Here’s what we’ve got for you today:

A workshop for:

Memoir writers who want to write truthfully about their experiences but are worried how people in their life might react

Your instructor:

Lilly Dancyger — essayist and author of the memoir Negative Space and essay collection First Love, which was a LAMBDA Literary Award finalist.

Takeaways:

• Common concerns for memoir writers during writing and revision

• Important questions to ask when writing about sensitive topics in non-fiction

• How to navigate telling your truth with fairness and nuance

• Advice on representing real people in a multidimensional way within memoir

Today’s workshop is free for all subscribers. By the end of it, you’ll know what to consider as you write and revise your creative non-fiction, and feel more confident about approaching difficult subjects in memoir.

How to Write About Real People in Memoir

The fact that the characters in our stories are real people (some of whom might actually read what we write!) is one of the most challenging aspects of writing memoir. The fear of getting it wrong—of representing people in our lives unfairly, or of representing them perfectly fairly but still pissing them off in the process—is enough to keep tons of would-be memoirists from writing a word; and enough to keep those brave enough to write anyway up at night.

Through the process of publishing two very personal books of nonfiction (and writing a third, which will be out next year), I’ve learned something that has made this minefield a little easier to navigate: the challenges of writing about real people fall into two distinct categories—writing problems, and publishing problems—and keeping them separate can make them much easier to manage. Letting these very different concerns get tangled up in your mind is a surefire way to get overwhelmed and stuck: worrying about publishing problems before you’ve even begun writing, editing yourself for public reception when you should be focused on craft and getting to a version of the story that feels true to your own experience.

Determining whether a story is yours to tell or if you’re veering too far into other people’s privacy, making sure the story is true and fair and that every character (even those who have harmed you) comes across as a multidimensional human instead of a stock villain, implicating yourself in descriptions of conflict as much as you implicate others—these are all writing problems.

How people in your life will react to what you’ve written is a publishing problem.

Like most big challenges, in writing as in life, this jumble of writing and publishing concerns becomes much easier to manage when you break it down into smaller challenges to deal with one at a time, in order.

Here’s a loose breakdown of when in the process to ask yourself these big questions:

Before you start writing:

Whose story is this to tell? (writing question)

When you first have an idea of what you want to write about, it’s always good to start with a gut check on whether the story is yours to tell in the first place. Memoir inevitably includes other people—pretty much every experience we write about is a shared experience in some way. But where’s the line between what’s yours and what’s theirs?

I think of it like this:

• Anything that happened primarily to me is fair game to write about, even if other people were involved.

• Anything that was an equally shared experience is also fair game, but might require a little more tact in making sure I’m representing only my perspective and not speaking for anyone else.

• And anything that primarily happened to someone else and impacted me in a second-hand way requires the full informed and freely-given consent of that someone else.

This is the loose rubric I start with, at least. There are exceptions that have to do with power dynamics—for example, children and my students get more protection and anonymity than my peers. (There’s a whole long-ranging debate with various strongly-held beliefs about whether it’s ever ok for parents to write about their children. Like pretty much every writing “rule,” I tend to think there’s no one size fits all right answer, but that the power dynamic should absolutely be taken into account, and writing about children and anyone else the writer has any kind of power over requires even more care than writing about people with whom they’re on a level playing field.)

While writing & revising:

Am I representing everyone as accurately as possible? (writing questions)

While writing (and revising), ask yourself:

• Have I portrayed everyone in this story as a multidimensional human being rather than a stock character or villain?

• Have I implicated myself in conflicts rather than putting all the blame on others?

• Have I represented the people in this story in a way that feels fair and complete and true from my perspective?

These are all difficult questions to answer and difficult things to achieve in writing, but they’re much easier—or at least, they’re possible—when you think of them as craft questions, completely separate from how the people you’re writing about will react to the finished work.

To the best of your ability, work through these questions without thinking at all about how your writing will be received. Try to write as if nobody will ever read what you’re writing! (This is easier to do if you can reassure yourself that the time will come to address concerns about how people will react; it’s just that now, while writing, is not that time.)

These are also things to ask for feedback on from other writers who don’t know the people you’ve written about—people who can judge the complexity and vividness of your characters as characters.

Later in revision:

How would it feel to read this as one of the people in the story? (revision question, starting to prepare for publication)

Only after you’ve written the story to your satisfaction, gotten it to a point where it feels true and conveys what you want it to convey, is it time to start thinking about how it might be received by the people you’ve written about.

For me, this is a revision step all its own: a full read through of the manuscript where I finally acknowledge to myself that some or all of the people I’ve written about will eventually read what I’ve written. And after blocking it out of my mind during the whole writing process up until this point, I let myself consider how it might come across to them.

During the read-through itself, I generally just mark every line or passage or section that I want to take a closer look at—basically every spot where I describe another person, or their actions, or our relationship. Then I go back through and make decisions about what I might want to omit or soften out of consideration for their feelings.

Importantly, by this point in the process, I’m generally pretty confident that I’ve done my due diligence to write a fair and true story, so I’m not as timid as I might have been if I’d done this step earlier in the process. But still, sometimes a description is harsher than it needs to be, or sometimes in the interest of making a character feel well-rounded I’ve included details about their life or experience that aren’t really mine to share.

This is the stage at which I make decisions about what’s really necessary to the story, and what I’d feel ok with letting go for the sake of people’s feelings and my ongoing relationships with them

Before publication:

Should I share what I’ve written with anyone represented in my story before it’s published, while there’s still time to make changes? (publishing question)

This is a question that comes up all the time—whether or not, and when, to share drafts with people in your life. When, I think, is the easier question to answer: Only when it’s close to final, polished and revised, so you’re sharing the most complete and considered version.

But that only applies if you’ve decided to share a draft at all. That has less of a clear answer, and really depends on each individual relationship.

Personally, I tend to err on the side of sharing drafts with more people than not. If people are going to read the work eventually, I’d rather deal with their potential reactions early, rather than letting them be another thing to worry about in the already anxiety-laden publication process. And, I’ve learned, making small changes is often a small price to pay to maintain a relationship.

I also learned from publishing my first book, Negative Space, that you can never predict what details will upset someone, and that often they’ll be small things that wouldn’t be that big of a deal to change. Of all the fraught and difficult things I wrote in that book about my mother, her relationship with my father and their shared heroin addiction, and my complicated relationship with her, the detail she brought up that had particularly upset her was that I described my loft bed in the studio apartment we shared when I was a teenager as being “above the kitchen.” It was next to the kitchen, she insisted; I made it sound worse than it was. When I looked down from that loft bed, I looked down into the kitchen, yes, but I also had a desk and clothing rack in the space directly under it. From my perspective, either above or next to would suffice. It would not have been a big deal for me to make that change, but it would have made a big difference to her.

But I didn’t share a draft of the book with my mother before it was published, so by the time she read it and objected to that word choice, it was too late.

I carried that experience with me into the publication process for my second book, First Love, sharing drafts with just about everyone I wrote about—including an ex-friend I hadn’t spoken to in years.

Just because I shared drafts with everyone, doesn’t mean that everyone’s opinion got equal weight. An important thing to remember is that sharing a draft doesn’t mean you have to change everything someone wants you to. At this stage, you have to balance your relationship with the person against the story you want to tell. For some friends, I would have cut entire essays if they asked me to, because no essay was more important than those relationships. (They didn’t ask me to cut any full essays, but a few did ask for very small changes, on the level of “above” vs. “next to” that I was more than happy to make.) For others, I was sharing the drafts more to get their reactions out of the way before publication. In those cases, there were some changes I declined to make.

But the choices about which changes to make and which to decline were so, so much easier to make at this stage—once the book was written and revised and I’d wrestled with my own craft and ethical concerns first, without anyone looking over my shoulder. Once they were separated into a stage of the publishing process, rather than something I let get in my way while I was writing, or god forbid, stop me from writing in the first place

More memoir & non-fiction resources:

For more on this topic, and to come up with your own ethical rubric and publication plan, join Lilly Dancyger on April 18 for a virtual session, Telling Shared Stories: Writing About Real People in Memoir.

(P.S. Forever Workshop readers get 15% off with discount code FOREVER)

And for more guidance on writing memoir and personal essays, explore these masterclass to help you generate ideas, find your voice, and craft honest, authentic creative non-fiction:

An 8-part comprehensive guide to writing a personal essay from start to finish, including lessons on structure, point-of-view, and revising your work.

A 4-part workshop on finding meaning in the ‘quiet’ moments of daily life — including how to write about difficult subjects with subtlety and nuance.

Subscribe now

I have a photo from 2013, the three of us standing in bright sun on the back deck—my daughter, my son, and me—each of us wearing a t-shirt announcing the university that we’d head off to at summer ‘s ends. My daughter went to Boston, my son to Southern California, and I stayed put to attend the small, liberal arts college, Saint Mary’s College of California, in our hometown in San Francisco’s East Bay. My kids, twins and 18, were moving into the next phase of their education and their lives, a new independence. And me, at 50, I was pursuing an MFA in Creative Nonfiction Writing, moving on with an empty nest and a dream to fulfill.

I’d seriously considered applying to graduate school when we moved to our tiny town eight years earlier. Getting an MFA in writing was something I’d thought about for years, since my late twenties. But marriage, career, kids, money, and probably a lack of confidence, had diverted me from that path. Now the idea was palpably within reach. Saint Mary’s MFA program had a good reputation, and it was right there, a five-minute walk from the house. From our backyard, I could see the white stucco walls and red clay tile roofs of the Mission-styled buildings on campus. I could hear the bells chime in the chapel tower on the hour throughout the day. But when we arrived in northern California in 2005—a big move from Chicago where I’d lived for 20 years—with two ten-year-olds, two cats, two birds, a new puppy, and a husband with a busy job—I felt we all needed time to settle in. The family’s needs resonated louder than the church bells that were calling to me.

I’d been working as medical writer and editor, which paid decently well at the time, but it was solitary, slow-paced work. I felt the creative hole in my writing life deepening. So, I went to work writing for a local newspaper and then moved on to magazines. Although I was late to journalism, I figured it out. I’m curious by nature. Reporting and interviewing came easily. I liked meeting people and exploring my new surroundings through their stories. Along the way, I wandered down to Saint Mary’s College every chance I got to listen to readings by visiting writers, which were often open to the public.

Before I applied to SMC, I met with the Director of the CNF Program, the wonderful writer Marilyn Abildskov. She could sense my excitement, my desire. She knew I could write—I had loads of clips. I’d been edited and edited others—I understood that cycle. I knew not to be precious about my writing. But Marilyn also knew what I didn’t know: that an MFA in Creative Writing would push me into unfamiliar and sometimes scary territory and challenge me to write more authentically, work in new forms, and take risks. The truth is, back then, I didn’t really know what I’d be getting into.

Although I’d worked as a writer and journalist for many years, I’d never been in a writing workshop.

Although I had a basket filled with hand-written journals, I’d never shared a draft of a first-person piece, let alone had one published.

Although I had ideas, most of which defaulted to writing about other people and things, I didn’t yet know what I wanted to write in an MFA program.

As we wrapped up our meeting, Marilyn gave me a knowing smile and said, “Coming here, getting an MFA, will change your life.” I smiled back, and it felt like I floated out the door.

One of the first courses I took in the MFA Program was called Foundations, a requirement for all writers across genres. We met, 24 of us, twice a week, to analyze and discuss poetry, short stories, novels, and essays. The poets sat clustered together, erudite and articulate, they were well read and sounded worldly in a way that didn’t require travel. The fiction writers sat side by side in a row. Affable and aware, they questioned the motivations of characters, picked apart plots, and waxed on about worldbuilding. And the nonfiction writers, the truth tellers, where were they? It was though I couldn’t recognize my people. I didn’t know where to sit

Although I’d always been an avid reader, with a Bachelors of Science degree, I hadn’t been exposed to classic literature like the many English majors in the room. We started off with John Keats’ “Ode to a Grecian Urn”—I had no idea what it meant. We read James Joyce’s short stories, old fiction that made me sleepy. I felt behind, out of place, like everyone—most of whom were twenty years younger than I was—knew much more about writing than I did.

And then came workshop, and things got worse. I had the less than good fortune to be in the first group to be workshopped by our cohort of 15, which included writers in both the first and second years of the CNF program. What would I write about? How did it work? I stumbled on.

I wrote about a foster brother who had disappeared from my life. My memories were vague. The word count was low. The writing was weak. I struggled with the point of view. Too much summary. Too little scene. It lacked interiority. The professor and fellow writers were supportive and provided valuable feedback, but I knew my writing had fallen short. The experience was humbling.

At the end of the workshop, a twenty-something young man in his second year turned and gave me a withering look that seemed to say, “Why am I sitting next to this old woman?” I can’t recall what he said exactly—and maybe I’m projecting—but this is what I heard: “I’m not sure you belong here. You better up your game.”

By the end of the first week I said to my husband, “I can’t do this. I’m not good enough.” Imposter syndrome had taken hold.

Weakened, I muscled on to week two. What saved me was the craft class, Marilyn’s fine teaching, and the readings. Bernard Cooper, Bia Lowe, Nick Flynn, Elizabeth McCracken, Vladimir Nabokov. I devoured them. I learned how to read as a writer and quickly picked up the craft. It was like putting on 3D glasses. I could see how the writing worked. I knew I’d never read the same way again.

I remember when it hit me, when I knew what I wanted to write. We read Jo Ann Beard’s essay, “The Fourth State of Matter,” and I was blown away by the writing. The braided structure, the personal narrative mixed with the public tragedy (her failing marriage, the aging dog, the invading squirrels, the school shooting), the emotional restraint of the voice, the scenes, the details, the tension, the metaphor. I thought right then—that’s what I want to write, that kind of essay.

In time workshop improved. The second-year writers were great role models in that setting. I watched them closely and mirrored what they did. As I developed a writing craft vocabulary, I found editing and giving feedback were strengths of mine. And I knew how to be kind and supportive—I’m a mother, I’d already had 18 years of training for that.

By the end of the first year, I’d made some friends and figured out where to sit in Foundations. I learned how to unearth lost memories, stay in scene, get comfortable with the pronoun I, tap into the voice in my head, and push my imposter persona to the side. I wrote essays that were braids, lists, hermit crabs, researched, lyric, reflective, and place-based. I upped my game. I didn’t feel like the old woman in the room anymore.

Do I think you need an MFA to become a writer? No. There are many excellent writing courses available online today and plenty of ways to build a writing community virtually. At 50, I was fortunate to have the time and financial resources to devote to a fulltime, residential writing program. Getting my MFA from Saint Mary’s was a privilege that gave me a wonderful way to pivot to creative writing.

Do I wish I’d gone back for my MFA sooner? Yes but No. At 50, I brought a lot of life experience to the page, and I felt like my “I” had something to say. Plus, I think I needed to experience the discomfort of the early weeks in the MFA program—to feel off-kilter and vulnerable, to have to push myself to a new place in my writing and my life.

That was my timing. That was my path.

I still have that Saint Mary’s College of California t-shirt, washed out gray with fading red letters, that I put on most mornings, like a second skin, when I head out to swim.

Yes, the MFA journey changed my life. Better late than never.

Andrea A. Firth is a writer, editor and educator living in the San Francisco Bay Area. She is an Editor at Brevity Blog. Andrea was a finalist for The Missouri Review's 2021 Perkoff Prize in nonfiction, and her work has appeared in Dorothy Parker’s Ashes, Allium, Please See Me, Motherwell, The Coachella Review among others. You can read more of her writing on her Substack newsletter Everything Essay! Andrea is teaching a 1.5 hour Zoom class Writing About Writing—and Get Published! on March 30, details and register here.

Self-Paced Workshops by Andrea

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Hey friends, welcome to The Forever Workshop. First time? Read this. Back again? Here’s what we’ve got for you today…

A workshop for:

Poets who want to explore the connection between the natural world and the human experience in their work.

Your instructor:

Madeleine Bazil — poet, writer, filmmaker, and author of Field Guide, an ecopoetics newsletter.

Key takeaways:

• Why most poets describe the world on autopilot (and how to stop)

• Using observation to gather unique details for our poetry

• Weaving time, nature, memory, and emotion into layered work

• How to balance societal and environmental issues with our own personal experiences

You will walk away from this workshop with a foundational understanding of how to craft deeply meaningful poetry using embodied observation.

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It’s a new Wednesday which means a new workshop, and this weeks is special because we’re trying out a video format! #brave. (And if video isn’t your thing, Jo has lovingly created a cheat sheet of key takeaways below.)

This is a workshop for:

Non-fiction writers who want to get their articles and personal essays published in top tier places like The New York Times, HuffPost, Business Insider, Washington Post and Wall Street Journal.

Your instructor:

Amber Petty — LA-based writer and marketing coach who’s written for NY Times, Parade, Bustle, IFC, and helped hundreds of clients get their first bylines.

Key takeaways:

• Step-by-step instructions on exactly what to put in your pitch

• Pitching angles proven to grab editorial attention

• Top tips to help you fine-tune your pitches and avoid common mistakes

• What editors don’t want to see

• Why you shouldn’t be scared to approach the Big Names

By the end of the workshop, you’ll have everything you need to brainstorm new ideas, draft a bunch of killer pitches, and get your stories out there!

Pitching 101 — A Certified Guide

“Editors don’t really care about your background, your history, or your education. They care about your story. And this is how we present that story in the best possible way…”

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Hey friends,

Welcome to another round of Tell Us Something We Don’t Know — where we source a panel of literary experts and ask them questions about whatever the heck. Today, the heck is pacing and our instructors are experienced editors from three top-tier literary magazines:

The Experts:

• Derek Askey — senior editor at The Sun

• Rachel Dillon — award-winning poet, teacher, and managing editor of Ploughshares

• Steve Chang — co-founder of Lit Match Collective and fiction editor at Okay Donkey

The Takeaways:

• Effective pacing techniques to keep moving your story forward

• How to draw out your unique voice through detail and observation

• Common pacing issues editors see in submissions and how to fix them!

• How important is a strong opening or a killer ending? And what about all that stuff in the middle?

By the end of this workshop, you’ll know how to capture the attention of editors, develop your stories with depth and nuance, and keep readers hanging on every word.

Let’s Begin at the Beginning…

Opening lines, exposition, pacing, and living up to the promise of your premise

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Hey, welcome to The Forever Workshop.

First time? Read this. Back again? Here’s what we’ve got for you today…

A workshop for:

Novelists who want to create a solid (but flexible) plot outline to take them through the first draft and beyond!

Your instructor:

Nina Schuyler — award-winning novelist, creative writing teacher at Stanford, and expert on

Key takeaways:

• What plot is, isn’t, and why it matters

• Techniques for crafting a ‘causation’ plot full of momentum

• Why change is the single most important factor in your character’s journey

• A step-by-step guide to formulating your novel outline

By the end of this workshop, you’ll have a step-by-step outline for a story that you can’t wait to write!

How to Plot Your Novel (Without Sobbing in the Middle)

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Hey friends,

Welcome to the first (possibly last — we’ll see how it goes) very best digest. If you like it, we’ll do more. If you hate it, we probably wont.

What’s inside:

• A tool from each workshop that we found exceptionally useful

• A calendar of the upcoming workshops and live events in March

• 12 publications our instructors think you should know about (and submit to)

• The Free Workshop of the Month

Okay, let’s go!

A No Bullsh*t Tip from Each February Workshop That Will Genuinely Advance Your Writing Career

Top Tip From:

“So many queries become overwrought because writers contort themselves when trying to adhere to all the conflicting rules they hear from a bunch of advice givers like myself. But every agent knows you can break the rules of query writing and still have a successful query. Having confidence means achieving self-awareness of your own work and hopefully where it fits in the market. It also means you can probably mention any flaws or weaknesses in a way that’s helpful or humorous rather than depressing or overly self-critical.”

— Jane Friedman

Top Tip From:

“As far as selling the collaboration to others, the collab itself should always be mutually beneficial. At first, of course, it’s a lot of favors, but once you start to work up a reputation, social media following and portfolio, people will start reaching out in droves hoping to work with you. Not just because it seems cool or fun, but because it adds something substantial to their life too: gives them a community, a creative opportunity, and something new to add to their resume.”

— Daphne Bryant

Top Tip From:

“If titles stress you out, just adapt the prompt (if the prompt was ‘write about a keychain,’ call your piece ‘Keychain’), look inside the micro for a word or phrase, or go with an emotion that feels adjacent. Treat it as a ‘working title’ for now — the piece may change during revision and demand a new name. But until then, call it something.”

— Darien Gee

Top Tip From:

“Line breaks are one of poetry’s most powerful tools—and one of its most anxiety-inducing decisions. Where you cut a line shapes rhythm, emphasis, breath, and meaning. And sometimes, the answer isn’t to break the line at all, but to let it run free and wild (as in a prose poem)! […] Think about it this way: if punctuation tells us how to read sentences, line breaks tell us how to feel the poem. In a way, they choreograph the reading experience.”

— Shannan Mann

The Workshop Line-up for March 2026

One-Shot Workshops

Everything you need to plan literary world domination in a bite-sized workshop…

How to Plot Your Novel (Without Sobbing in the Middle) — March 4

A brilliantly accessible and practical roadmap to help you create a professional outline for your novel from award-winning writer and Substack bestseller Nina Schuyler

Editorial Experts on Pacing in Short Fiction — March 11

Learn from prestigious lit mag editors Derek Askey (The Sun), Rachel Dillon (Ploughshares) and Steve Chang (Okay Donkey) and discover how to craft and structure short fic

Non-Fiction Pitching 101— March 18

Everything you need to know about writing and pitching essays and articles from freelancing expert and marketing queen Amber Petty

Not Just a Nature Poem: An intro to Ecopoetics — March 25

Explore the delicate and complex web that connects time, nature, humanity and art with this guide to eco-poetry by artist, writer and researcher Madeleine Bazil

Subscribe now

Live Events

Join in with live webinars, submitting sessions and Q&As with publishing experts over at big daddy Chill Subs:

Visibility and Book Sales: Marketing Your Book — March 11

Learn the necessary tools, money-saving techniques, and networking skills to market your book with maximum effectiveness — hosted by John Sibley Williams, editor, author of nine poetry collections, and 35-times Pushcart nominee

Simplify Submitting with Chill Subs — March 18

New to Chill Subs? Join this live tutorial and get to grips with all its fancy features, including how to make a profile, browse journal and contests, track your submissions, and much more — with editor, author and columnist Svetlana Litvinchuk

AMA: Carolyn Kuebler, Editor of New England Review — March 25

Bring your burning questions about the lit mags and getting published to this live Q&A with editor, novelist and essayist Carolyn Kuebler and find out how to make the submission process work for you

Join live events

Free Workshop of The Month

We have an unholy amount of invaluable writing advice in our Forever Archive, so we thought we’d showcase some of our favorites each month and make them available to everyone.

To kick us off, here’s a little author platform wisdom from our in-house marketing genius Shelby:

12 Publications Our Instructors Think You Should Be Reading (and Submitting To)

Publishers Weekly for the best source for publishing news

The New York Times Review of Books for great features, and lists of upcoming books you don’t want to miss

Writers Magazine for excellent writing advice

(Recommended by Erin C. Niumata, Senior Vice President & literary agent at Folio Literary Management)

Poets & Writers for great personal essays

(Recommended by Karin Gillespie, Simon & Schuster published novelist and Substack bestseller)

Ebony Tomatoes Collective: a lit mag for black women and non-binary creatives that pays their contributors and hosts powerful community events

Runt Magazine: a lit mag based in LA with an amazing visual aesthetic and identity, bold topics and conversations

Jardin Zine: a lit mag based in Boston with calming graphics, kind staff and great work

(Recommended by Daphne Bryant, Founder of multimedia publication Dreamworldgirl Zine)

ZYZZYVA: a robust and eclectic selection of beloved and new writers, covering all genres

CALYX Magazine: featuring women writers and diverse voices

Delmarva Review: an attentive editor who works closely with contributors (which is such a rarity these days)

Short Reads: an editorial team (formerly with Creative Nonfiction magazine) that celebrates writers and writing short

Tupelo Quarterly: championing new writers and established contributors to offer a balance of work that’s fresh and relevant

(Recommended by Darien Gee, 5x Penguin Random House published author, translated into 11 languages)

Okey-poke, that’s a lot of stuff for one little month! See you on the blank page…

Jo & Shel

For our first post, our University Partnership Director JustiLet’s be real: Writing a resume is never fun. It can even be kind of stressful. How do you condense years of experience into a few pages? What do you include, and what do you leave out? And what even is the difference between a CV and a resume, anyway? For writers, it can feel particularly daunting to communicate your creative endeavors in such a dry, uncompromising format. And yet almost anything you apply for—whether it be an MFA program, a residency, a fellowship, or a job in the literary world—requires a resume or CV. So today we’re going to dive into how you can make the most of this tricky little document as a writer, increasing your chances of your resume being an asset to your application.

To cover some basics first:

What is the difference between a CV and a resume? If you’re application-savvy you may already know this, but a resume is a concise, 1-2 page document that is very focused on what you are specifically applying for. In contrast, a CV (curriculum vitae) is a more extensive, all-encompassing document that tracks your academic, professional, and creative history (2+ pages). Most applications will specify whether they want you to submit a resume or a CV, so it’s generally a good idea to have a template for both handy!

What does the difference between a CV and a resume mean for you as a writer? When it comes to differentiating between a CV and a resume as a writer, the biggest difference is in what you can include. To be honest, I find CVs way easier (and that’s why we are focusing on resumes here!) as you can literally list everything. A CV can include your education history (including any awards or scholarships you might’ve won), your teaching experience (including specific courses), your list of publications, and your job experience. CV’s are incredibly comprehensive, and there generally isn’t a page limit. In contrast, resumes are restrictive—1-2 pages max, which inevitably limits what you can include and makes them harder to write.

Does my resume really matter?

Absolutely yes. It is the most succinct, skimmable aspect of your application, meaning that there is a high likelihood of the people receiving your application looking at this document first before anything else. They are reviewing it for key words and experiences that flag for them you are a good fit for whatever it is you are applying for. While it can be tempting, don’t slack off on the resume part of your application—trust me, it matters.

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How to Develop Your Writer’s Resume in 5 Steps

1. Read the application details for whatever it is you are applying for. OK, I realize this sounds simplistic, but it’s truly the most important first step. One resume does not fit all, so it’s essential to tailor your resume to the specific application you are submitting. If it’s a job, what are they looking for in terms of experience and skills? What are the expectations of the role? If you are applying for an MFA or a residency or fellowship, what are the eligibility requirements? What are the expectations should you be accepted? And, for any application, make sure to take note if they are asking you to be specific about something—your publication record, your teaching experience, your work experience.
   

   Hot tip: As you’re reviewing the application, take notes and start writing down your relevant experiences, skills, publications, etc. This will make developing your resume so much easier.

2. Determine what are the most important and relevant qualifications. Resumes should ideally be organized in order of importance—whatever is most relevant to the application should be at the top of your resume, with the least important information included at the end. This looks different for different applications, so I’ll give you some examples:

   1. For MFA applications and residency applications, I listed my notable publications at the top of my resume, followed by my experiences in the literary world—from conferences I was accepted into and attended, to workshop groups that I participated in, to literary magazines I worked for. The rest of the space I used for my academic experience (showing that yes, I can be a good student!) and job experience (I am a professional, and I know how to act like one). For an MFA program or residency, your writing and your literary citizenship are incredibly important, making them a natural fit for the top of your resume.

   2. For applications to publishing internships and editorial roles, I started with my experiences in the literary world as a reader and editor for literary magazines, followed by my job experience. It was important to show that 1) I was not new to the literary world and was already building my skills in that area, and 2) I knew how to operate in professional environments, with skills such as software know-how, communication, organization, etc. I followed this with my academic experience, and ended with a few of my more prestigious publications because while you don’t have to be a writer to be a publishing professional, it doesn’t hurt to show that you are an active part of the literary landscape.

   3. For applications to writing jobs (as a ghost writer, content strategist, etc.), I started with my job experience, followed by my writing-relevant academic experience and notable publications. For these roles, my professionalism and skills were most important—closely followed by the fact that I was a writer, with the official credentials to be acknowledged as such.

      Hot tip: Whatever you are applying for, note what feels most emphasized in the application and prioritize that at the top of your resume. Is it writing? Is it certain skills? Is it engagement in the literary world?

3. Overwrite, then cut back. As writers, this should be a natural revision process for you! Chances are that as you draft your resume you will quickly surpass that 1-2 page mark. But don’t worry—this is normal. Once you have everything written down and in order of importance, go through each item you’ve listed carefully, cutting back and revising along the way. For example:

   1. For publications—Have you included every single thing you’ve ever published, or only the most noteworthy? Prioritize publications with well-known literary magazines or presses.

   2. For job experience—Have you listed every single thing you did while working a job, or only the things that match the role of what you are applying for? Have you included every single job you’ve ever had, or only the most recent/relevant ones? Prioritize recent jobs that relate to the role you are applying for, and skills/experience that speak the same language as the role you are applying for.

   3. For extracurriculars (engagement in the literary community, etc)—Have you listed everything going back to middle school? Do you list out all of the writers and mentors you’ve met? Prioritize high-level information, as for these items the most important aspect to reveal is that you are an engaged and active part of the community.

      Hot tip: If you are struggling to hit the 1-2 page mark, check every single line against the application. Does what you’ve written match something on

      there? If not, consider cutting it.

4. Steal their language. Are they looking for someone creative and collaborative? Use those words in your resume. Does the role require management? Emphasize your management experience. Do they need you to be proficient in Word, Outlook, or some other software? Make sure to include that as well (assuming you are proficient). You don’t want to lie and claim something that isn’t true, but resume-building is in part a matter of spinning your experiences in a way that fits what they are looking for—and stealing their language is a great place to start.

   Hot tip: Synonyms work too! They want cooperative? You’re a team player. They want creative? You’re innovative. They want management? You’ve acted as a project lead.

5. Format and edit (and edit again). The way your resume looks is also incredibly important, and you definitely want it to be error-free. Use a standard font (12 pt. Times New Roman is a great go-to), make sure it is well-organized with clearly outlined sections (i.e. Relevant Work Experience; Notable Publications; Education; etc.), and make sure there are no grammatical or spelling errors. Everything should look clean and polished, and fit within their requirements (1-2 pages). An error in a resume can indicate to those reading your application that you don’t pay attention to details—not generally a great quality in a candidate.
   

   Hot tip: Ask a friend or colleague with a good eye to read over your resume and flag any errors they see. We are not always our own best editors, so an extra set of eyes (or a few) can help.

Once you have a resume written, it is easy to use it as a template by rearranging and adding/cutting things as needed to tailor the document for each unique application. And in the event that you are applying for similar roles (i.e. applying to multiple MFA programs, editorial jobs, etc.), you can often reuse the same resume with only a few small tweaks!

It’s not the most riveting writing pursuit, but for those looking to step into the professional world as a writer, knowing how to create a resume that maximizes impact and your capability is essential. So find those opportunities and get drafting—trust me, it’ll be worth it.

Hey, welcome to The Forever Workshop. First time? Read this. Back again? Here’s what we’ve got for you today…

A workshop for:

Poets who want to craft the perfect line (break)

Your instructor:

Shannan Mann — Creative Director at ONLY POEMS & Strange Pilgrims, and Executive Editor at Sub Club

Key takeaways:

• What line breaks actually do (beyond just making text look like poetry)

• Techniques for deciding where to enjamb (the technical term for line-breaking)

• How to know when you are (or perhaps ought to be) writing a prose poem instead

• The relationship between form and content

By the end, you’ll have practical strategies for making intentional line break choices—and the confidence to recognize what kind of poem is emerging from your pen.

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Hey writer-friend. New to The Forever Workshop? Read this. Back again? Here’s what we’ve got for you today…

A workshop for:

Writers who want to condense their craft into tiny, powerful pieces of writing.

Key takeaways:

• Learn what micro prose is and draft your first piece

• Big mistakes to avoid in micro works

• How to create impact and meaning in a short piece of writing

• Titling technique (seriously who better to learn from)

Your instructor:

Darien Gee — award-winning micro memoirist, author of five novels, teacher of creative non-fiction at UCLA and founder of , helping writers master the art of micro prose

Micro Prose 101

Welcome, writers!

I’m Darien Gee, and today we’re diving into one of my favorite short forms: the micro.

In this lesson, you’ll learn how to craft tiny stories that pack enormous emotional punch. We’ll explore what makes micro prose different from other short forms, discover why constraints can be your creative superpower, and practice techniques that transform fleeting moments into unforgettable prose.

The most powerful stories often emerge from small moments and careful attention. Let’s find out how...

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Hey, welcome to The Forever Workshop! First time? Read this. Back again? Here’s what we’ve got for you today…

A workshop for:

Writers who want the full picture of today’s publishing world (TikTok, Substack, Zines) and how to navigate it on their own terms.

Key takeaways:

• What multimedia is and how writers are using it

• Choosing images, audio, and video to compliment your work

• How to find collaborators i.e. photographers, illustrators, designers

• Where to publish your writing so it actually gets read

Your instructor:

Daphne Bryant — Gen-Z writer, creative director and editor-in-chief of Dreamworldgirl Zine

Multimedia for Writers

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Hello friends,

Welcome to your very first one-shot workshop! These workshops will come a variety of packages, including a new series called Tell Us Something We Don’t Know — where we source a panel of experts and ask them questions about whatever the heck. Today, the heck is querying.

The Experts:

• Jane Friedman — Publishing strategist with expertise regularly featured in The New York Times, The Atlantic, and BBC & more

• Karin Gillespie — 20+ years of multifaceted publishing experience as a Simon and Schuster published novelist, Substack bestseller, & more

• Erin C. Niumata — Senior Vice President & literary agent at Folio Literary Management representing NYT Bestselling authors & more

The Takeaways:

• What agents wish writers knew about querying

• Where to start when looking for a literary agent/sending out queries

• The best way to pitch your story in a query

• How to prove you understand your book’s market/audience

• How to stand out

• When (and how) you should break the “rules”

• Querying red flags to avoid

What agents wish writers knew about querying

Erin C. Niumata: I want to start by stating literary agents are not scary people sitting at their desks waiting to crush your dreams. We’re here looking for you just as much as you are looking for us.

While this is a business and we do pass on more projects that we take on, that is actually a good thing. You want to have an agent who is as excited about your project as you are. If an agent doesn’t represent your type of book or doesn’t think that they’d be a good fit for it for whatever reason, then they will pass on it. That’s just an indication you haven’t found the right person yet.

You have to have a thick skin if you want to be in this business because agents and editors will reject your work, readers will criticize your work, and you won’t make everybody happy. That’s the downside. The good side is when you do find the right representation, they can champion your work and get it in front of the right editors and imprints to reach your fans, your people.

I know it’s a process to find the right agent for most. You simply have to stick with it and not take every pass as a personal failure. Most of the time it’s not even a reflection on you, it’s just you approached the wrong agent. You do not, I repeat, DO NOT want the wrong agent.

As for agents, believe me — it’s not a good feeling to reject people’s work. This is especially true when they haven’t done their homework and sent me something that I have no business representing or even considering. It’s even harder when it’s close but not quite right. I know you’ve heard this before but I’m going to say it again: Do the work!

Where to start when looking for a literary agent/sending out queries

Do your research:

Erin: Research the agents. Know if you are targeting the right people by looking up each individual agent, read their wish lists, read their Substacks, follow on social media and listen to any podcasts, etc. KNOW their lists and wants/dislikes. The fastest way to a no is to send me something I don’t represent.

Most importantly, do not go around their submission process and try to contact them through social media or other avenues to say “You’re the dream agent for me, please read this.” You’re not doing yourself any favors, believe me. If an agent is closed for submissions, it’s because they don’t have the bandwidth to take on anyone new, or they haven’t finished going through the last round of submissions and are bogged down or overwhelmed. Or it could be another reason, but whatever the case may be, closed is closed and going around that closed sign is usually not a good idea.

Follow the guidelines:

Erin: Do your homework and follow their guidelines to the letter. If we ask for the first three chapters then send only the first three chapters, not the first five because you think they are very important. There is a method to our madness and a reason why we request a certain number of pages.

Personally, I request a full synopsis and the first three chapters. The synopsis lets me know what the story is about and if it is of interest to me. The three chapters let me know if you can write and if they are engaging enough to make me request more.

While I’m reading all of this I am thinking of imprints and editors that might like this, can I be of editorial use, as well am I a good fit to work with the material and get it out to market. There is a lot to consider in this package that leads to my decision.

Get right to the point:

Karin Gillespie: Authors are understandably swimming in unfamiliar waters with query letters but no need to reveal that in your letter. Avoid starting a letter with, “I’m seeking representation for my manuscript.” It marks you as a beginner; agents know why you’re writing them. Expediency is always the rule when it comes to queries. Agents read so many letters that unnecessary verbiage detracts from your message.

Personalize your query to each agent:

Karin: As for personalization, it’s best if it’s specific to only that agent and doesn’t seem too generic like, “I see you rep cozy mysteries.” Instead, say something like, “I enjoyed reading your client’s novel, Bad to the Bone, and my manuscript also features a morally grey character.”

Erin: A major turn-off is impersonal emails addressed to 100 agents all cc’d on the same email. That’s the fastest no for me:

1. The impersonal approach with zero research.

2. I accept submissions only via QM and they ignored it.

3. It’s a lazy, “throw-everything-at-the-wall” approach which I don’t care for at all.

The best way to pitch your story in a query

Spark interest and hook the reader:

Erin: One thing I wish more writers understood is a query letter isn’t meant to summarize the entire plot, it’s a sales pitch. The goal is to spark interest, not explain every twist. A great query highlights what makes the story unique, who the protagonist is, and what’s at stake. When agents read queries, we’re looking for clarity, confidence, and a strong hook, not a mini-synopsis. That’s why I request the full synopsis separately.

Start with a one-sentence pitch:

Karin: Something I see missing from most query letters is a one-sentence pitch, which should come right after personalization. It’s possibly the most important part of a query letter, and many agents who use Query Manager require it.

The one sentence pitch is the DNA of your story and should include as many of the following elements as possible: the protagonist’s flaw and desire, the inciting incident (the event that prompts the protagonists to act), the obstacles the character faces, and the stakes if they don’t get what they want.

Example for The Wizard of Oz:

A restless (flaw) young woman gets swept up in a tornado (inciting incident) that carries her to a fantastical world and, in order to return home (desire) she must battle a powerful witch (obstacle) who’s out to destroy her. (stakes)

Note that proper names like Dorothy or Oz aren’t used in the pitch. Sometimes the one sentence pitch can be a little unwieldy, but that’s okay because its purpose is to demonstrate that your novel contains vital story telling elements. If you want to see examples of how agents pitch to editors, you can subscribe to Publishers Marketplace and read the one-sentence pitches in the book deal section.

Make your story easy to visualize:

Karin: The queries that get the most requests are those with high-concept pitches: Here’s an example of a recent high-concept pitch from Publishers Marketplace:

MOST ARDENTLY YOURS following a woman who, after accidentally summoning the real Mr. Darcy from a stolen copy of PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, must find a way to send him back to the pages of her favorite book with the help of a romance-skeptic bookseller.

Did you find yourself nodding along and imagining the story in your head? The time difference and culture conflicts? Darcy getting on her nerves? That’s what makes a premise high concept. The scenario unfolds in our minds, and the premise is easy to communicate

Also, note the clever title. Authors tend to get lazy with titles and that’s a mistake. A strong title can add to the saleability of a novel. It pays to put thought and creativity into it.

Be as specific as possible:

Karin: A mistake I see often in queries is the use of generalities like characters fighting inner demons, emotional journeys, or long buried generational secrets. Always be as specific as possible. Sometimes you also have to reveal the twist to the agent. Many times, I’ve read about “a deep dark secret” that needed to be revealed for the query to be compelling.

How to prove you understand your book’s market/audience

Know your genre:

Karin: When you’re querying, if possible, use a subgenre instead of a genre. For example, don’t just say “horror”, say “folk horror” or “slasher”.

It’s also essential that you know the tropes and slang of your subgenre. For instance, billionaire romance often has shadow daddies or an age-gap MMC (male main character). You want to get as specific about tropes as possible.

Example: My manuscript is a golden retriever and black cat story with forced proximity.

Use the right kind of comps:

Karin: Writers tend to be confused about comps (titles similar to your own) because there are two different kinds.

First, there are comps that indicate the vibe of a manuscript, and for these you can use mash-ups, poems, songs, movies or TV shows.

Examples:

• Taylor Swift meets The Haunting of Hill House

• If Stephen King wrote a rom-com

• Succession in the tech world

Second, sales comps are more limited and should only include titles similar to yours that have been published within the last five years and aren’t outliers like The Wedding People or Where the Crawdads Sing.

(Outliers are fine for vibe comps, however. Example: The Wedding People but at a Bat Mitzvah.)

The right sales comps can indicate that your title is marketable, but they also show that you’re familiar with competitive titles in your genre.

Be aware of current industry trends:

Karin: I study trends extensively, and while you shouldn’t write to them, I can tell you what many agents are looking for right now:

• horror of any kind

• western and dark romances

• cozy fantasies

• anything with a speculative element

• genre blends like romance plus horror

• literary plus mystery

• gothic plus historical

• and anything trending on BookTok, like dark academia

When a TV show becomes popular, it can also kick off trends in fiction. For instance, Fleabag, in part, inspired a new genre called weird girl fiction that’s about troubled young women negotiating adulthood. Similarly, I’ve noticed many “White Lotus” inspired novels selling.

Pitches in the zeitgeist also tend to get requests. For instance, when tradwife influencers became part of our culture, editors scooped up novels that addressed the trend.

I’m also seeing more deals with successful, self-published authors and writers who have some sort of platform, particularly in the areas of new adult and romance. I suspect that will increase.

Some genres that are hard sells right now are contemporary and historical romances, WWII fiction, cozy mysteries and family-oriented women’s fiction.

How to make your query stand out

Karin: As an author, it’s important for you to demonstrate to an agent that your book is saleable. Solid comps, a compelling and ironic pitch, pitch decks and taglines all help you in that goal.

A snappy tagline:

Karin: Taglines go just before the description to lure the reader in.

Some examples:

• The Hunger Games: “Winning will make you famous. Losing means certain death.”

• Percy Jackson and the Olympians: “Half boy. Half god. All hero.”

• Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret: “Growing up is tough. Period.”

A sense of irony:

Karin: Another element that elevates a pitch is irony. Note this recent pitch from Publishers Marketplace:

When a feminist writer starts living life according to a 1960s anti-feminist guidebook, she’s shocked to find her life improves…until she discovers that her experiment in submission is anything but under her control.

Obviously, irony begins at the idea stage. To add irony while you’re brainstorming premises, you could start either with the situation or main character. For instance, suppose you create a situation where it’s impossible for your main character to lie. What character would be most ironic in that situation? Someone who has to lie for his job like the attorney character in Liar, Liar.

Or suppose you have a grumpy character. To be ironic, you want to put that character in a situation which requires him to be perpetually cheerful. Maybe he’s forced to take a job as a Walmart greeter.

A pitch deck:

Karin: I’m also seeing more authors creating pitch decks for their novels to share with agents. Pitch decks are visual representations of your novel’s vibes, tropes, and possible cover concepts. You can create one fairly easily with a tool like Canva.

A succinct (and relevant) bio:

Karin: Authors tend to get chatty in their bios, including something like, “When I’m not writing, I’m chasing two toddlers and breeding toy poodles.”

I understand the inclination to fill out a skimpy bio, but agents see through that. Also avoid identifying yourself as a debut novelist. That will be obvious from your bio.

Appropriate bio items include anything to do with writing (prizes, publications and professional memberships), your platform (10,000 followers on Instagram or president of an online book club with 5,000 members), and any background that’s relevant to your manuscript. For example, you’re a lawyer who has written a legal thriller.

When (and how) to break the “rules”

Show your confidence:

Jane Friedman: The dating analogy is used a lot with querying, for good reason: you want to leave the other person eager for more, not overwhelmed and eager to escape. So many queries become overwrought because writers contort themselves when trying to adhere to all the conflicting rules they hear from a bunch of advice givers like myself. But every agent knows you can break the rules of query writing and still have a successful query. Having confidence means achieving self-awareness of your own work and hopefully where it fits in the market. It also means you can probably mention any flaws or weaknesses in a way that’s helpful or humorous rather than depressing or overly self-critical.

I’m not saying you should be that annoying person who thinks they’re the exception to the rule. I do suggest writers follow submission guidelines and understand best practices. But assuming you’re fulfilling the key functions of a query, many writers would do better to loosen up. Agents and publishers can forgive a multitude of sins if they perceive a writer on the other end who they’d like to know better. It means that even if your queried project isn’t right for them, they might still open up a conversation with you or refer you to a colleague who’s a better fit.

Show your voice:

Erin: As I mentioned before, the unbreakable rule is simple: Follow the submission guidelines. They exist for a reason, and ignoring them sends the wrong signal right away. That said, not all rules are sacred. If your book is humorous, it’s fine for your query to show that voice. If you have an unconventional structure, a small rule-bend might help demonstrate why. The key is intention; break a rule because it serves the pitch, not because you didn’t know better. Those rule-bends need to be ‘special’ and purposeful, however!

Avoid these querying red flags

Starting on the defensive:

Jane: I meet some writers who’ve been beaten down so hard by rejection over the years that their queries are full of defiance and barely veiled trauma. They sometimes go down a list of things their book is not, or try to emphasize how this story is in fact unique, and that this isn’t yet another one of those stories. Agents and publishers can sense when you’re trying to get out from under snap judgments and unfair assumptions. But trying to convince an agent or publisher I swear this doesn’t apply to me unfortunately only makes them more convinced that it does apply to you.

These six querying sins:

Erin: Instant turn offs: Arrogance (“This will be the next Harry Potter”) and desperation (“I’ll do anything to be published”) or claims that the book will “appeal to everyone”.

A lack of polish, overlong summaries, and poor grammar are also on the red flag list.

Impatience and unprofessionalism:

Erin: Following up a day or two after sending a submission is never a good idea. It will raise a red flag (literally in Query Manager you can tag with flags of many colors). Patience is key and good communication is appreciated and noted.

Another major turn off is to contact me on social media to let me know you’ve submitted to me in Query Manager. I will get to it, I promise, I don’t need a heads up. That screams high maintenance and impatience. It happens more often than I care to admit.

Many writers underestimate how much the query process reflects their approach to collaboration. A concise, polite, well-researched query tells us this author is serious about their career. Publishing is a long relationship; agents are drawn to writers who seem easy to work with and who understand that this is a business as much as it is an art.

Final words of querying wisdom

Show agents who you are!

Jane: I’ve been reading and offering advice on queries for about 20 years now, and the longer I’m in the business the more I think the differentiating factor is confidence. And that is exceedingly difficult or impossible to teach. Ideally, your query will showcase your charming, ineffable self, and a voice and a personality and a person who publishing professionals will enjoy working with. Unfortunately, writers’ fears and anxieties about querying can undermine that. It drives queries to be too long, too detailed, too weird, or even too self-serious.

Start early!

Karin: One final suggestion: To save time and disappointment, consider writing your query letter at the idea stage. Query letters quickly expose a weak premise or one that’s difficult to pitch.

Tick all the boxes!

Erin: What makes a query an instant yes? A strong hook delivered in one line. When the premise is clear and compelling, when the voice shines, and when the writer clearly understands their market. This is swoon worthy. That’s the kind of query that makes me click request immediately. I love these queries!

Ask an Expert

More querying, publishing & novel writing resources:

Jane Friedman discusses fiction queries here and nonfiction queries here.

Erin C. Niumata has written an entire series on querying on her Substack here.

Karin Gillespie tracks and analyses publishing trends at Pitch Your Novel

Plus these gems from our Publishing & Career workshop catalogue:

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Join Andrea A. Firth for a masterclass in creative non-fiction with Finding Your Essay’s Heartbeat. During this course, we’ll be reading and discussing a wide range of personal essays and writing our own essays, too.

Sometimes, a personal essay requires us to re-imagine what happened in the past because our memories are incomplete, but we’ll still be writing true stories as best we can. In this workshop, we’re going to take a deep dive into what makes an essay work and discover what your personal story is about and what it means.

Lessons

About The Instructor

Andrea A. Firth is an Editor at Brevity Blog and cofounder of Diablo Writers’ Workshop where she teaches creative writing, provides editorial consulting, and supports a vibrant writing community. Andrea has an MFA in Creative Nonfiction from Saint Mary’s College of California. She was a finalist for The Missouri Review's 2021 Perkoff Prize in nonfiction, and her work has appeared in Dorothy Parker’s Ashes, Allium, Please See Me, Motherwell, The Coachella Review, Brevity Blog among others. She has also worked as journalist, was a longtime contributor to Oakland Magazine, and has published hundreds of articles in news outlets and magazines. Learn more about her and read her recent work at www.andreaafirth.com.

A borderline unhinged workshop by Chill Subs co-creator Benjamin Davis about the ins and outs of submitting to lit mags. Everything you need to know and maybe even a few things you didn't. This course has everything you need to decide whether lit mags are for you.

Lessons

About The Instructor

Benjamin Davis

I have been submitting to magazines for over a decade with 40+ stories, poems, and essays in a variety of lit mags. I have founded and managed magazines, judged writing contests, and co-founded Chill Subs, one of the largest databases of lit mags on the web. And I write The Sub Club Newsletter. For the past two years, I have spent every day researching lit mags, talking with editors, and consulting writers on how to find the best place to publish their work. I have no MFA. Nothing against them; I’m just broke. I did not have a professor, mentor, or submitter friends. I learned by making all of the mistakes possible over and over until I learned. I am a big fan of data-driven decisions, front-loading prep work, and spreadsheets. There will be a lot of these three things in this course. I don’t like loads of SEO keyword fluff, obvious explanations, or moralizing. You won’t find much of that in this course. At any time, all questions are welcome.

So you wrote something. I’m sorry, and welcome.

What did you write? A poem? A story? A screenplay space opera? Doesn’t matter now. Is it good? I don’t know. You don’t know. Nobody knows. Fifty Shades of Graysold 15 million copies, and Virginia Woolf once called Ulysses the work of a queasy undergraduate scratching his pimples. Do you like it? Does your mom like it? Sweet, moving on.

This course is not about writing advice. I am here because you have three choices ahead of you, blog it, bury it, or submit it. Since you’re here, I’m going to assume you’ve chosen option three, so let’s talk about how you do that. Let’s talk about Literary Magazines.

Literary magazines are publications of (primarily) creative works curated by one or more editors. Publishing in them can help writers gain readers and reputation and alleviate imposter syndrome¹. Also, they’re cool. For everything I go over in this course, I will use examples from active literary magazines. Whatever magazines I mention in a lesson, I will include a spreadsheet link at the bottom where you can find all of their submission information.

I’d like to get one thing out of the way first. There is a lot of talk about genremagazines versus literary magazines. For this course, I won’t differentiate. Here is why.

The term “literary” became widely adopted in the ‘80s as a way to differentiate works focused on craft and technique from those written for mass consumption (i.e., genre fiction)². The New Yorker writes,

“...they created a different kind of literature: one centered on inwardness, privacy, and incommunicability.”

Ah, incommunicability — what every reader wants. The irony is that readers did want this, so it became its own mass-consumed genre. So, if you see “literary” as a genre, they want craft-focused writing³. This is why you’ll often see a magazine ask for literary works within a call for subgenre, science fiction, for example. They mean craft-focused science fiction (I will talk more about craft in lesson 1).

Since submitting is the same across genres (and to avoid bickering over a reactionary term coined by pretentious white folks in the ‘60s), I’ll refer to Literary Magazines as Lit Mags from here on out. Lit Mags publish stories, poems, essays, videos, games, comics, and so much more. Call it curated creativity.⁴

Anybody can submit to Lit Mags. Anybody can start a Lit Mag. Universities or foundations back some. Others are independent. For example, here is a random sample of prize-winning poetry magazines:

• The American Poetry Review (founded by two dudes in Philly in the 70s.)

• Kenyon Review (backed by Kenyon College)

• Threepenny Review (founded by a 27-year-old with no editorial experience).

• Smartish Pace (founded by a law student in Maryland)

• Rattle (founded by a guy in LA)

So what makes a Lit Mag worth publishing in? Well, that depends on you. You are a writer. (If you are not a writer, you are lost. The rest of the internet is that way.)⁵ So, since you’re a writer, welcome. This course will have everything you need to decide whether lit mags are for you. It will run for one month and encompass all aspects of submitting to lit mags. I have developed several templates and tools that will be yours to play with. Copy them, adapt them, and email me mean things about how they’re not good enough. The usual. I will also share links to all my research with further readings and industry resources you can take advantage of.

I have been submitting to magazines for over a decade with 40+ stories, poems, and essays in a variety of lit mags. I have founded and managed magazines, judged writing contests, and co-founded Chill Subs, one of the largest databases of lit mags on the web. And I write The Sub Club Newsletter. For the past two years, I have spent every day researching lit mags, talking with editors, and consulting writers on how to find the best place to publish their work. I have no MFA. Nothing against them; I’m just broke. I did not have a professor, mentor, or submitter friends. I learned by making all of the mistakes possible over and over until I learned. I am a big fan of data-driven decisions, front-loading prep work, and spreadsheets. There will be a lot of these three things in this course. I don’t like loads of SEO keyword fluff, obvious explanations, or moralizing. You won’t find much of that in this course. At any time, all questions are welcome.

For additional readings, I’ll default to writer’s blogs or small magazines when I can find them rather than fluffy articles by big publishers. I find them to be more concise and will always lean toward supporting indie creators over content farms.

Here is an example, using today’s intro, of how I will share the details for any lit mags I mention throughout this course - Example Sheet (If you click the second tab on that spreadsheet, you’ll also find links to any articles or resources I found helpful.)

Whew, OK. Lesson 1, here we go. As we get started there are a few things to know. First, I am going to try and cover everything as if someone is brand new to submitting. I don’t like that so many articles and courses take things as, “Well, duh everyone knows that!” Because when I started, I didn’t. But even for experienced submitters, I’ll have some tips & tricks along the way you might not have heard. And I’ll segment lessons to cover a range of topics. For example, you may already know everything you need to know about word counts and subgenres. Cool, skip to the part about craft vs compelling writing. If you have any questions or are confused by anything in a lesson, you can comment on this post, and I will respond. I want these lessons to be a conversation. And if you feel shy or think a question is silly, there is no pressure to ask publicly. Simply email ben@chillsubs.com, and I will answer. Quick content warning: I swear sometimes.1 I know some folks don’t like that, so just FYI.

In this lesson: I will cover identifying genres, sub genres, and length specifications before you submit. The difference between compelling writing and craft writing.

What did you write? Words, hopefully.

Mostly, you’ll be submitting poetry, fiction, or nonfiction. For each, there are two core elements you must know before submitting to any lit mag: length and subgenre.

When I started out, I had a lot of trouble determining what my subgenre was, what different types of poetry were, how long flash fiction was compared to micros, and so on. 

So, let’s get into it.

Step 1: Figuring out all of this genre nonsense

Genre: There are three main genres lit mags accept: Fiction, Nonfiction, and Poetry. I think it would be condescending and a waste of everyone's time for me to explain what these three main genres are. If a magazine doesn’t accept what you’ve got, don’t submit to them. Additional genres include hybrid, interviews, art, photography, reviews, comics, audio, plays, games, and more; the specifications for those vary wildly, so always double-check guidelines.

Subgenre: Welcome to the tricky part. There are over 100 subgenres for fiction, a dozen or so for nonfiction, and numerous poetry styles. If a magazine wants only literary fiction, you could be N.K. Jemisin (where my epic fantasy friends at, eh?) and still get a rejection letter, so knowing subgenre is important.

Since this is such a hassle, and since explaining every subgenre individually would take ages, I have developed three genre-identifier tools to help based on the most common subgenres.

1. [Fiction Subgenre Identifier] - start with the subgenre you believe your story to be, and work your way around from there.

2. [Nonfiction Subgenre Identifier] - fairly straightforward.

3. [Poetry Subgenre Identifier] - it fits or it doesn’t unless you’re an experimental poet who is good enough to mess around with strict parameters within reason.

(Someday, I’ll get Karina to code these into some handy tool for writers, but for now, I hope they help).

I have also created a list of historically prize-winning magazines for every subgenre so you can read and familiarize yourself with them. This list is not for submitting, some have shut their doors, but reading them will give you a better understanding of what each means.2

There are roughly 4,000 active literary magazines at any given moment. To give you an idea of what you’re up against, here is a statistical breakdown of what they publish:

Even with those lower percentages, you are looking at dozens of possible homes for your work. Do not waste your time submitting somewhere that doesn’t accept what you’ve written. And “literary” as a subgenre can encompass many subgenes depending on the lit mag.

Step 2: Lengths & specifications you must watch out for

Length is important because, especially for print, editors have limited space. They aren’t just being picky for the sake of it. You might not think it’s a big deal, but when I’ve interviewed editors to ask about dealbreakers on submissions, it’s one of the first things that comes up.

“To help us read and respond to all pieces in a timely manner, we ask that writers submit only one piece per reading period, and stay under 5000 words.” - Kay Allen from Corvid Queen

“Sending us work over 1000 words. We publish narratives under 1000 words excluding the title.” - Christopher Allen from SmokeLong Quarterly

“Receiving someone’s full manuscript—we’re not quite a press yet. That immediately signals to us that the author did not do their homework and might be spam submitting.” - Editors of Lucky Jefferson

“We most typically get prose submissions that are too long, packets that contain more work than we accept from individual contributors.” - Chloe from The Q & A Queer Zine

You get the idea.

This is most important for prose (fiction/nonfiction) but sometimes matters for poetry as well. But let’s start with prose.

• Up to 100 words - Micro-Fiction/Drabble (Wiggle Room: Some magazines consider micro-fiction up to 300-400 words.)

• 500 to 1,000 words - Flash Fiction/Nonfiction (Wiggle Room: Some magazines cut off at 750 words or push the max to 1,200 words.)

• 1,500 to 7,500 words - Short Story (Wiggle Room: After 7500 words, a magazine will usually state their cap.)

• 7,500 to 20,000 words - Long Read (Wiggle Room: Sometimes called a long short story, or even a Novellette.)

Most magazines clearly state their word counts in their guidelines. If you do not spot them, follow the word counts listed above, and you’ll be fine. Some magazines say that they will accept a bit over/under their word counts. These are the exceptions, not the rule. A safe bet is to always stay within designated word counts. 

Here is a super simple, and free, word-counting tool.3

Alternatively, you can find word count listed in the bottom left-hand corner of a Microsoft Word window or by click tools → word count in the Google Docs navigation.

If you’re curious, the most common max word counts (beyond flash) are 5000 words: 22.38%, 3000 words: 12.84%, 2000 words: 8.44%, 4000 words: 7.49%, 2500 words: 6.76%, 6000 words: 5.92%, 7500 words: 5.03%, 10000 words: 4.72%, 1500 words: 4.35%, 8000 words: 3.62%

Now, for poetry.

For the length of individual poems, it’s more common to see limits on page & line counts than word counts. For line counts, it’s fairly straightforward. Magazines will list them if they matter.

Here is a super quick & easy tool for counting your lines. (I like this one because it gives you the option to ignore blank lines and blank lines do not matter with line count restrictions unless otherwise stated.

More important and common to see than line or page counts is poem counts—the number of poems you can submit at one time. The most common limits for number of poems are 3 or 5.4 It’s not even close:

Here are a couple examples of what that looks like in a lit mag’s guidelines:

Now, here is an answer to the question of craft to the best of my abilities

As a lifelong lover of boxed zinfandel and two-buck-chuck, I tend to think of craft-focused highly-prestigious lit mags as sommeliers; they want your hints of apricot, your complex notes, your oaken barrels. Is that walnut I'm tasting? Num-num-num.

This contributes to the narrative that "Literary Magazines" are only for MFA candidates. That's not the case; it is simply that several of the most prestigious lit mags were born out of MFA programs, a place that teaches the craft of writing. Craft is about technique, the mechanics of executing your piece of writing. You may have written the most compelling story ever told, and many brilliant magazines will publish it, but if you haven't nailed down the craft elements, a craft-focused magazine5 won't be interested. 

This doesn't mean you can't be experimental. These days, it's not unheard of to find high-end magazines publishing stories without dialogue tags6 or poems without capital letters7. But there has to be a purpose. If I had to pin down what craft means, it is purpose; story, poem, page, line, paragraph, sentence, word. Choice matters. On the flip side, this has made some top-tier magazines somewhat of a slog which has led to a whole new generation of exceptional lit mags that care more about how compelling your work is rather than how well it is executed. 

These, in my mind, are the two key factors — craft and compelling(ness?)8. You can have one without the other but need both to blow people away. Nobody knows the secret of an objectively good story or how to write an objectively good poem. It's that secret stuff only you know. I guess if I had to answer someone asking how to write something good, I'd say, fuck me down the page and leave me breathless.

I cannot teach you craft, but since the 90s, every well-known writer of literary fiction has published a book on the subject. Seriously, look at a list of the hundreds of books on writing and see how many were written before 1990. Almost none. (Then look up any list of the best writers of all time and wonder how they possibly did it!). Anyway, I’ve read loads. The best one is Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose. Best for the nitty gritty: Dreyer’s English. Everyone has their favorites; those are mine.

So, that's the what of it. What are the technical and genre specifications of your work? What genres are you writing in? Do you focus on craft, compelling story, or both? 

The one thing every fiction editor seems to agree on is that character-driven work, above all, is the best. So don't forget your character's emotional journey. That's all the concrete, probably universal advice I’ve got.

• Some writers who balance craft and compelling well (in my opinion) are Kelly Link, Tao Lin, Etgar Keret, Aimee Bender, Kevin Wilson, Mariana Enriquez, Ada Limon, Leigh Chadwick, Bob Hicok, Li-Young Lee, Luke Kennard, Jenny Xie, Fran Lock, Jane Yeh

• Some lit mags that balance this well: One Story, Story Magazine, SmokeLong Quarterly, Brevity, Pithead Chapel, Conjunctions, Booth, Split Lip, Rattle

BONUS: Some commonly confused subgenres with explanations by people who know better than me:

Flash vs. prose poems

“Prose poems are poems crafted with the traditional sentences and devices of prose writing but still relying heavily on poetic devices such as heightened imagery and precision of language.

Flash fiction are stories crafted with the devices of storytelling such as story arc and tension but compressed into limited language, normally no more than 1000 words.”

Can you submit one as the other and the other as one? Absolutely. Will that get by an experienced flash or prose poem editor? Unlikely.

Science fiction vs. speculative

“…Much so-called science fiction is not about human beings and their problems, consisting instead of a fictionalized framework, peopled by cardboard figures, on which is hung an essay about the Glorious Future of Technology…

…In the speculative science fiction story accepted science and established beliefs are extrapolated to produce a new situation, a new framework for human action. As a result of this new situation, new human problems are created--and our story is about how human beings cope with those new problems. The story is not about the new situation; it is about coping with problems arising out of the new situation…”

I still fuck this up. Like, all the time.

And here is a quick & nice answer from Monica at Talk Vomit about what it means when a lit mag asks for “genre-bending” work:

For me, that’s always meant a piece that isn’t afraid to be two things at once. That might mean autofiction, or an essay with absurdist elements, or a piece of writing that isn’t quite poetry but also isn’t quite prose. I like seeing writers really push themselves because I think that helps get at emotions that are otherwise hard to explain. - Monica at Talk Vomit

One thing that I do for each piece I write is create a blurb when it’s finished. These are what I use, but they are not any sort of “standard.” If you do this, make it your own.

• Prose: [Title] is a [Word Count] [subgenre] [story/essay] about [one-line summary].9

  • e.g. Muppet Heads is a 600-word essay about my children.

  • e.g. Arf Bucket is a 3,000 word fantasy story about a dog who gets trapped in a magic well.

• Poetry: Thank you for taking the time to consider my [poem/subgenre], “[Title].” It is [lines/words] and explores [summary].

  • e.g. Thank you for taking the time to consider my prose poem, “Wet Cats Make Friends in a Hot IKEA Bag.” It is seven lines and explores themes of motherhood and teenage angst.

This is a good habit to get into and saves me time later because I can just copy-paste these blurbs into my cover letters. One line summaries are not always necessary for cover letters, but I write a lot and sometimes I don’t remember what a story is about.

Choose 3-5 pieces of writing you have in your files. Identify all of these details and create blurbs for them. Comment the blurbs below with any questions or troubles you had along the way.

• What are some other commonly mixed up subgenres you’ve encountered?

• Share a piece of writing that you have found that is both compelling and expertly executed with craft.

• What are your favorite books on how to write “well” and why?

• This is our first lesson! How did it go for you? If you had any trouble with pacing or accessing any materials, please let me know.

Leave a comment

VIDEO: What you can do with your what on Chill Subs:

Thank you for joining! On Wednesday, we’ll move on to Lesson 2: Why are you submitting to lit mags in the first place? If you’re new to this course, you can find the full breakdown and schedule in my introduction post.

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Update: Lesson 2 is now live.

Learn to write flawlessly fucked-up, halting, gorgeously messy and staggeringly good REAL dialogue! This is a fun, exploratory, and interactive workshop (think public eavesdropping as homework!) where we learn to identify and adore the perfect imperfection of how “real humans really talk.”

Mushy, sentimental, robot-stiff, ridiculously poetic, or full of cloying exposition? Dialogue that hasn’t been trained on real human conversation is a liability. But when we nail authentic “voice,” we deepen investment in our fictional worlds and celebrate the gnarly mess that is humanity. Boost your fiction, screenplay writing, or playwriting with a top-to-bottom dialogue glow-up.

Join screenwriter, educator and coach Lauren Veloski and discover why the screenwriting lens is a the perfect “in” point for radical dialogue work.

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About The Instructor

Lauren Veloski is a screenwriter, comedy writer, creative coach, and founder of THAT’S BANANAS—a groundbreaking community for women and nonbinary writers. Her first feature, the indie comedy “SORRY, THANKS,” was praised by Lena Dunham for writing “as seamless as any studio rom-com—if studio rom-coms had astute, nuanced dialogue.” An “unromantic comedy” about casual douchebaggery, “SORRY, THANKS” world-premiered at SXSW, played 15 fests internationally, and sold to IFC/Sundance. After 15 years as the “story brain” in the room on countless television and film projects, Lauren launched THAT’S BANANAS in 2022 to no less than spark a revolution. Though THAT’S BANANAS, Lauren teaches kooky-fresh courses year-round and coaches women/nonbinary writers of all levels, helping them come fully into their badassery and power on the page. Learn more about Lauren at thats-bananas.com, and join the THAT’S BANANAS community on Instagram at @writingisbananas

No, editors aren’t all prudes or anti-romantics who don’t want your passionate poetry. And yes, readers are dirty as heck and would love to read more exciting and authentic love and sex poems.

This workshop will help you craft a set of love and sex poems that are true to who you are while also focusing on how to get them out into the world.

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About The Instructor

Shannan Mann has been awarded or placed for the Palette Love & Eros Prize, Rattle Poetry Prize, Auburn Witness Prize, Foster Poetry Prize, Peatsmoke Summer Contest and Pacific Spirit Poetry Prize among others. Her poems appear in Poetry Daily, Black Warrior Review, Poet Lore, Gulf Coast, The Literary Review of Canada, EPOCH, december, & elsewhere. She is the Poet Laureate’s pick for Exile. Her essays appear in Tolka Journal and Going Down Swinging; they have been awarded the Alta Lind Cook Prize and the Irene Adler Essay Prize. She also translates Sanskrit poetry. Having worked as an editor and educator for nearly a decade, she now raises her baby, studies, writes, and runs ONLY POEMS.