The Submission Echo

Listen carefully, writers! Do you hear ‘the submission echo’?

or: Why Shouting into The Void Isn’t Always Bad…

Writing and submitting manuscripts can be discouraging. 

It can feel like shouting into the void. 

You send your stories, your queries, your pitches, out into the world and hear…nothing—-or ‘no—so often you start to “wonder what’s the point”?

I’m always preaching about the benefits to you of doing the work anyway, but recently I discovered another benefit, that I’m calling ‘the submission echo’, and it came after a flurry of ‘shouting into the void’, myself.

The Little Story That Couldn’t

I’ve been through a spell of ‘not sending things out’ and now I’m in a season of sending stories out to find their place in the world, again. And there’s a lot of waiting around for answers.

This week the answer was ‘no thanks’. 

The publication I had lovingly crafted a story for, didn’t want it.

Hmmph!

But…This one didn’t sting as much as some other ‘non-acceptances’ (I’m not using the R word!) because this one had brought me much more than an opportunity to be published.

This story had been a challenge to write. I’d had to research cutting-edge science for it. I’d walked away and come back to it. I’d enjoyed the process. Some readers I gave it to it to enjoyed it. 

In the end, I simply like this little story.

That’s why I was so surprised that the ‘no thanks’ didn’t sting as much as I expected, and here’s why:

I noticed the ‘submission echo’.

The Submission Echo

That’s what I call the effect when creativity begets more creativity, courage begets courage, and one story drives you to write more stories.

Lots of surprising things happened after I submitted that story:

  • Yes, the story had been tricky and the research had stretched the limits of my understanding of a particular field…and energized me. It reminded me that I love writing.
  • Yes, it took courage to push the ‘submit button. But the little hit of excited dopamine made me want to do it again. Which meant more writing, more market research, more wrangling with tricky plot points…only now, that felt exciting, not overwhelming.
  • And yes, I gained renewed confidence in my ability to push through a problem in a story. (Since submitting the Little Story That Couldn’t, I have added three new scenes to my previously-stalled novel-in-progress.)

Shout Into The Void

When writers tell you not to fear rejection it’s not just because acceptance is a numbers game1.

It’s also because pushing yourself to finish the story, polish the story, take a chance on showing it to someone…all these things make you uncomfortable and it is in the discomfort that we grow.

Submitting stories isn’t the only way to force yourself to stretch, and grow as a writer, and next week I’ll send you some other ideas on how you can push yourself to grow as a writer.

But I hope you push yourself to do something that feels like ‘shouting into the void’ in your writing life, this month…because you never know what you’ll hear in the echo.

storyaday graphic divider

Until next time: here’s a new episode of the podcast, talking about this story; the fine line between ‘excuses’ and ‘reasons’; and a writing prompt centered around holidays. Check out the podcast, here.

Keep writing,

Julie

P. S. Need more practice writing stories you can send out into the void? Consider the StoryAWeek newsletter: 52 weekly lessons and writing prompts. Find out more.

  1. Assuming you are a halfway decent writer, the more stories you send out, the more likely you are to hear a ‘yes’ ↩︎

What Would You Do With Fortune & Fame?

Why do YOU want to write?

What if your writing could really help someone?

This week I became aware of a project from fantasy writer Brandon Sanderson: a “challenge coin” offered freely to anyone struggling with depression, that a,  is a beautiful collectible item and b, contains a QR code link to resources to help people with mental health issues.

(You can find out more here. If you are someone who deals with depression, you can get the coin for free. If you just like Brandon Sanderson and want to support his work—or collect All The Things—you can buy a coin there, too. There is no ‘test’. You are invited to self-select.)

The Arts As Their Own Reward? Yes, and…

I’m a big fan of encouraging people to write for it’s own sake: for the rewards you get from the process.

But that doesn’t mean I think you’re somehow ‘selling out’ if you want to make a living from your craft. 

In fact, if that’s your path, I hope you make a fortune from your writing.

I think writers are exactly the kind of people who should be successful and rich.

Brandon Sanderson is an example of how that success can look, in the hands of someone who spends all their time thinking hard about what makes humans tick (i.e. a writer).

Do The Work

Dreams of fame and fortune, and all the good you’ll do with them, are lovely, and can be inspiring in the tough times, when you’re starting at the fourth revision of a manuscript, wondering if you’re making it better or worse.

But you still have to do the work. 

Sanderson didn’t become rich and successful on the strength of having written one book. He writes a LOT. Obsessively, in fact. 

You do not have to write obsessively in order to become successful–there are plenty of examples of people who have a slightly more balanced approach and still do fine–but you do have to write.

  • Actually-Writing,
  • Really-Revising,
  • Courageously-Engaging with the publishing industry/readers,

These must be serious activities for you, if you want success as a writer.

Don’t Go It Alone

Another lesson from Sanderson that I’ve noticed over the years is that he doesn’t try to do it alone. 

  • He worked to develop his own style, but then he went to conferences to learn the business.
  • He formed a podcast with other writers, to share what they knew with the community of writer-admirers. 
  • He formed a company to deal the the growing business demands of being a prolific and successful author.
  • In his announcement about the challenge coins I noticed a lot of ‘we’ language.
  • He came up with the idea, but it was clear that there’s a team behind him coming up with smart ideas (like: what should go into the resource page; what to do about the tension between their desire to give them away to people who need them and also satisfy people who just wanted the coins because they’re collectors…)

The myth of the solitary writers is just that…a myth.

The only stories about solitary writers I can think of are stories that don’t end happily. Any successful, modern author’s ‘acknowledgments’ section runs to several pages.

How We Do It

Here in StoryADay-land, we get together to write every May: taking on a huge, ridiculous challenge, just to see what we’re made of. We post about our successes and our less-than-successes. We share and commiserate.

And we do workshops and hangout and co-working writing dates together, because doing this together is just way more fun. And more sustainable.

I hope you have a supportive community of writers around you.

And if not, keep your eye on your inbox for an invitation to join us for an end-of-year get together for the StoryADay community, that will also help you plan for a 2026 you can be excited about.

A Fun Thought Experiment

What would you do with your fame and fortune if you made it big? Leave a comment and let us know!

Keep writing,

Julie

P. S. Need more practice turning everyday moments into key scenes in your stories? Consider the StoryAWeek newsletter: 52 weekly lessons and writing prompts. Find out more.

It’s The Process, Not The Prizes

Why do YOU want to write?

To have this article read to you subscribe the podcast, or StoryADay on YouTube

In his 2003 Nobel Prize Banquet speech, honoree and author J. M. Coetzee used his moment on the stage to reflect on what a shame it was his parents hadn’t lived to see this day: 

“Why must our mothers be ninety-nine and long in the grave before we can come running home with the prize that will make up for all the trouble we have been to them?”

-J. M. Coetzee – Banquet speech. NobelPrize.org.

I thought this was an odd, and dispiriting way to thank the Nobel committee. 

Perhaps it struck me because I lost my dad in the summer and am going through the process of getting used to not being able to tell him things and see the reaction on his face.

But what I know in my bones is that, though he would have been tickled pink by my current and future achievements, his pride in me was based on who I am, not any big outcome, or prize. (And yes, I know I was privileged to have pretty awesome parents.)

It’s Not The Prizes

It’s not the big moments that make up a life—or a writing practice.

It’s the millions of tiny decisions and actions we take, day after day, that tell people who we are, and that add up to a life.

  • It doesn’t matter if your writing goes well today. It matters that you did it.
  • It doesn’t matter if you wrote 5,000 words today. It matters that  you come back and add more words, soon.
  • It doesn’t matter if your first draft is ropey. It matters that you finish; that you summon up the courage to revise it, and revise it again; that you decide you are bold enough to share it.
  • It doesn’t matter if your writing is ‘on trend’. It matters that you spend your time working on something that delights you—even as it frustrates you; something that only you could write.

Who Tells Your Story?

After playwright Tom Stoppard died this month, a widely-shared letter appeared in the UK newspaper The Times. 

In the letter, surgeon and cancer researcher Dr. Michael Baum recounts how, while attending a performance of Stoppard’s play Arcadia, he was introduced to Chaos Theory, which changed his thought process about a thorny problem in treating breast cancer. He ends the letter,

“Stoppard never learnt how many lives he saved by writing Arcadia.”

Prizes are nice.

Publication acceptances are nice.

Being able to make some money from your writing may, or may not be, nice depending on how you feel about turning your avocation into a job.

But writing is weird.

It’s a way to place our ideas into the heads of people we’ll never meet. 

It’s a method for manipulating the emotions of people in a future we might not see.

It’s a stone cast into a vast pond, causing ripples we can’t possibly track.

The Point

The work is the point.

The work is the starting point.

We might never receive the prizes, the publication, or the acclaim, but we can certainly never receive them if we don’t build the habit of doing the work. 

And doing the work has to matter enough to you that you would do it even if you never hear that your parents are proud of you or that you saved lives with your writing. 

You may never know what you writing means to other people.

What does your writing mean to you, and can you find a way to make that ‘enough’?

Keep writing,

Julie

P. S. Need more practice turning everyday moments into key scenes in your stories? Consider the StoryAWeek newsletter: 52 weekly lessons and writing prompts. Find out more.

Creativity: Bringing People Together

People are easily led. Let’s lead them to joy, through sharing things they can love.

Last night I got to be part of the audience, doing something like this

Jacob Collier is an extraordinary musician who does not do what he is told, or what others before him have done1.

A few years ago he started experimenting with asking his audience to sing a note, then conducting them in a multi-part harmony, just by pointing at them. It’s quite something2.

Bringing People Together

When so much about our public life is awful, and terrifying, and despair-inducing, it can be tempting to think that taking time out for moments of joy is somehow trivial or disrespectful.

It’s not. It’s essential.

Bringing people from all walks of life together to experience something—collectively, as at a concert or asynchronously, as with reading a good story—is important work.

It’s important that you write your stories.

It’s important that you make them good enough to share. 

Because sometimes, when people come together and share a moment of joy—singing in unexpected harmony or sharing their love of a sarcastic security cyborg—it reminds them of how alike we all are.

Bad actors try to assemble their followers into a scared, exclusionary huddle.

It only takes one courageous person’s vision to bring people together for good.

Art matters. 

Stories matter.

Your voice matters.

Keep writing,

Julie

P. S. It can be hard to gather the motivation to do the work in the face of, well, everything. Here’s a brand-new workbook to help you reconnect to your practice or your project. Download it now, as a thank you for following along on this writing journey with me!

  1. Which doesn’t mean he’s a contrarian. His commitment to doing what he does, how he likes it, has led him to friendship with Quincy Jones, and a deal with Martin guitars where they produced a 5-string guitar for him, because he thought ‘why does a guitar have to have six strings?” ↩︎
  2. I’ve been in choirs where we could not sing acapella and stay in tune. Last night, he led thousands of people through a long improvised harmonic thing and then brought back in an actual orchestra…and we were still on pitch! ↩︎

Of Pachyderms & Prompts

When I surveyed the StoryADay community the message was clear: you’d like a little something for the weekend, to inspire you and remind you to write. So let’s get started.

First, a letter from me-in-January-2025, then some writing prompts.

Elephant In The Room

Writers tend to be a pretty progressive lot.

Our self-imposed job is to think about why people are the way they are. This leads to us having compassion for other creatures and for our environment, and it often leads to an urge to improve our institutions and communities.

This is a tough time for the compassionate.

The loudest voices are, once again, telling us that we’re kidding ourselves, that we’re fools, that we’re being taken advantage of.

But we’re not. (You know that, and you’re not wrong).
And we are not the minority.

Those of us who can, must keep, as cheerfully as possible, reminding everyone of those things.

StoryADay is my sliver of the Writing-sphere and it is resolutely a place where people are welcomed with respect, encouragement, acceptance, and a loving kick in the pants when they’re not living up to their own (sometimes secret) expectations for themselves.

The only thing I will not tolerate is intolerance.

Still here?

OK. I have some more words for you.

Fiction is not about escapism.

I mean, it can be, but mostly creative writing is the spoonful of sugar that helps the truth go down.

The truth of what it is to be human.

The truth of the horrors we see, and the heroes that fight them.

The truth that it is possible to create–and live in–better worlds.

I know you might feel pulled away to pay attention to the news, but remember: your creative writing matters (fiction, or creative non-fiction). Your writing is a lifeline to yourself and others who are drowning in a sea of headlines and clickbait. It’s a respite from the (sometimes brilliant) non-fiction we all consume, daily.

People need a break. Let’s give it to them.

Let’s make good trouble with our writing, as Sen. John Lewis advocated.

And llegitimis non carborundum*, as British intelligence used to say, during the Second World War.

On that note, here are some Story Sparks for you:

Writing Prompts

I’ve been amusing myself by posting Story Sparks as Shorts/Reels this month. Here are the first 7:

I’ve also posted some from my old stomping grounds in Scotland. To see them all (including one with a castle), click here.

I’ll be back next week. If you have questions or fears, or are stuck on anything to do with your writing, or are ready to join me at the writing barricades, leave a comment. I’ll do my best to address your question in an upcoming missive.

Keep writing,

Julie

P. S. *Illigitimis non carborundum is mock-Latin for ‘Don’t let the bastards grind you down’! Words to live by…

Want to receive this missive by email everyweek? Sign up here

What We Crave

“In a digital world saturated with technicolor brilliance and filtered, unobtainable beauty, modern humans seem unmoored and at sea. We crave stories to tell us who we are.” – Min Jin Lee, Best American Short Stories 2023

When I first logged on to the Internet in 1993, I was thrilled by the possibilities of connection.

When, some time later, I clicked on my first hyperlink (on a page that gloried under the catchy address of something like “74.6.143.25”) I distinctly remember thinking,

“This is exactly how I want life to operate,”

and, at the same time,

“I am in sooooo much trouble.”

Picture me, hunched in front of a mushroom-colored 14-inch monitor, clicking and reading, and clicking and reading, and leaping down the rabbit hole

We Were Warned

That first hyperlink was the start of something that changed the world and I was there for it.

But it turns out I was Mickey Mouse in the Sorcerer’s hat, summoning a wave I couldn’t control.

I was the old woman with the magic porridge pot.

I was King Midas.

We all were.

(It’s 1999, and the distractions have only got shinier! Like my cheeks!)
  • The Sorcerer’s Apprentice thought he wanted power. What he really needed was control.
  • The old woman with the magic porridge pot thought she wanted an endless supply of food. What she needed was ‘enough’.
  • We thought we wanted endless facts, exposure to more people, more ideas. What we need is the wisdom that comes from enough knowledge.

The stories tried to warn us.

Writers Have A Head Start

Yes, we get distracted by the glossy online world sometimes, but writers really do have a huge advantage over other mortals.

We go out of our way to make time to create worlds and characters who wrestle with big human questions:

  • What if I break the rules, just this once?
  • What if I had everything I ever lacked?
  • What if they won’t love me?
  • What’s beyond the fence at the end of the garden?

Believe it or not, most people are rushing through their days NOT staring into space and thinking about these things.

But when they do have time to unwind, they all want to do it with stories: in books, on screens, in song.

Because stories — not facts, not reels, not personality quizzes — tell us who we are.

Your Turn

Make some time for your writing in the next three days.

Use this prompt if you need a nudge.

And please believe me when I say

“You are a writer. Stories are what make us human. Stories keep us safe. Stories show us how to be human. Stories are the way we learn. No matter how ‘big’ or ‘small’ your stories and your subject matter, your stories matter.”

storyaday graphic divider

What’s your biggest distraction from your writing? How did you last conquer it. Leave a comment!