To Be a Writer, You Must Do Some Writing

There is one way to be a writer. It’s not as complicated as you might think.

There are a lot of things you learn when you offer advice on the internet. One of them being that the best advice given on the internet is channeled through something like a blog or column — places where people choose to read (or not) your opinion and react accordingly (and this is something you intended to happen).

Possibly the most important thing I’ve learned about dishing out writing advice — sometimes on Twitter, which is always a mistake and never ends well for me — is that an alarming amount of people who fall into the “want to be a writer full-time” category have never published a single piece of writing anywhere. Ever.

The term “publishing” doesn’t hold quite the same meaning it did before the internet became a daily thing for most of us, but if we’re being honest, that change happened long before that. Before, if you wanted to be a published writer, you either had to submit something to a publication or hire an agent to do it for you.

That’s not how it is anymore — evidenced by the fact that what you are reading right now was created by me sitting down at my laptop, dusting off this website’s interior, writing a bunch of words, and hitting “publish.”

If it weren’t for the .com domain I pay for because -BRANDING-, this process would be free and would cost nothing but my time. If I took the time out of my day to list every free site that lets anyone anywhere host their own blog, I’d be here the rest of the day. Dinner would never get made. My kitchen would remain dirty. I might pass out from lack of hydration. You never know.

I’ve been publishing content on the internet since 2009, because high school me wanted to be an author and was obsessed with Meg Cabot, and because Meg Cabot was (is still) an author and had a blog, this Meg also needed one. I can’t say I regret it, though it did take a while for teenage me to understand that not everything needed to be shared online, even on a blog with 2.5 followers. There are a few more of you now, I’ve heard.

I’ve been around a long time, and trust me, I’m not old enough to forget what it’s like to want to write but to fear not the act of writing, but instead the possibility that someone might read it, or worse, have opinions about it.

But because that fear of being read never goes away (sorry to break it to you, but I’m also not), I must offer you yet another nugget of writing advice you’re going to hate. It’s my specialty.

Suck it up and publish your words.

Mean! Awful! How dare I! I know. I’m the worst.

But here’s the thing: So many people say they want to write for a living. But this is quite literally impossible if you never publish a single thing on the internet.

It’s not that you have to write every day (in fact, I strongly recommend not doing that — there’s a reason I stopped posting daily to this website in 2020). It’s not that you have to be published in The New York Times or BuzzFeed or whatever the “look ma, I made it” equivalent of these things are in 2022. You just have to publish something, Preferably many somethings. Good, bad, it doesn’t matter.

It. Doesn’t. Matter.

When I’m reviewing writing applications (with the aim of, yes, hiring writers to write words in exchange for currency — what a concept!), the first thing I look at is not the resume, or the reason someone wants the job (we all know it’s the currency, WE ALL KNOW). The first thing I look at are a candidate’s already published writing samples.

It does not matter to me where these samples are published. I’ve hired writers who have only ever published articles on Medium (free) or their own personal blogs that don’t get much traffic (can also be free). In fact, because I will never forget what it’s like to be in that awful space in life where you want to write but no one will let you do it for money, I make it a point, whenever possible, to recruit writers who aren’t already published in the NYTs or the BuzzFeeds.

Of course high-traffic bylines help. But speaking from experience, the only thing a writer needs to prove to me at first glance is that they can write.

If you have no proof, you have a very low chance of getting hired.

I understand that publishing content for free is hard. It’s draining. It takes a lot of time. And that’s all on top of the terror that often accompanies sending any of your words out into the void.

You have to do it anyway. If you want to write professionally in any capacity, you have to prove to anyone who might be looking that you are worth being hired.

This is not necessarily true for traditional publishing — the majority of manuscripts are not published before they’re sent to agents.

But if your goal is to freelance, or to become a staff writer somewhere, the only experience you have to prove you can do it is the content you publish yourself.

Which means you have to — actually — write — things.

This is challenging. I’m writing this post deep into a writing drought. I do not feel like writing. None of my ideas seem interesting. I have little desire to share my words with anyone, even myself.

Why am I writing anyway? Because I have to. If it weren’t my job, but I wanted it to be, I would also have to.

THAT is the mindset you must adopt if you want to become a writer.

It doesn’t matter what, where, how much, how often.

You must write.

That is, it turns out, the only way to be a writer.


Meg Dowell is the creator of Brain Rush, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words, and Not a Book Hoarder, celebrating books of all kinds. She is an editor, writer, book reviewer, podcaster, and photographer. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about nonsense and Star Wars.

You Can Fall In Love With Writing Again

When you do start to feel you no longer love what you do, remember this: If you ever loved it at all, you will always find your way back.

When did we all start believing that writing is always the perfect outlet for our … everything?

I have a difficult time ever recalling a mentor or a writer I admired from afar telling me that there would be stretches where I hated writing so much I’d want to quit.

I’d always assumed it would be difficult. Never that I would forget why I liked it.

Though no one ever said writing was easy — I’d personally like a word with those who have, I just want to talk — what many don’t realize when they sign up for this life is that being a writer isn’t always going to be a job you love.

In fact, there will be days you hate it. Months you feel you’re dragging yourself miserably through it. Spans of time you just … stop.

It’s those dark and dreary times I want to highlight here. I don’t know if you could say I’ve officially been trapped in one for the past year or so. But at some point I did largely scale back on how much I wrote per week.

And I barely missed it. Until recently.

I can’t say what brought me back to my desire to make words happen. Maybe it’s been there for a long time and I was too busy, too stressed, too focused on other projects to notice.

But honestly? For me, coming back to writing is the easy part.

The hard part will be continuing to remember why I want to stay.

And it takes a lot of effort to rediscover the reasons you started writing in the first place. Because day to day, sometimes they’re different. Some days it’s for your [potential] readers. Some days it’s for yourself. Your paycheck, if you’re lucky. Your ego, if you’re honest.

Beneath all that, though, is the one truth we all must cling to whether we’re currently actively writing or not: Back when you had nothing, and you put words onto pages, you did it not for the money, the people, the recognition — you did it because you wanted to. Because you loved it.

Deep down, you probably still do. I know I do.

Why, then, do we fall out of love with writing? Because it’s work. It’s exhausting. Even “fun” writing requires switching on a part of you that uses up more energy than you realize until after the fact.

Sometimes we realize we’re not getting out of writing what we need in the moment. And we decide we need to stop.

Just because you hit pause doesn’t mean you have to walk away forever.

When you do start to feel you no longer love what you do, remember this: If you ever loved it at all, you will always find your way back.

Like any kind of love, your connection to, care of, and passion for your writing will never be a constant, easy thing. Though you will always have and cherish it, challenges will arise. Uncertainty will surface. You will face moments in which you’ll wonder: “Is this really what I’ve always wanted?”

And that is the very definition of loving something — questioning whether or not we want or need it only to realize that though we may change, we may have doubts and insecurities, some things don’t alter and shift as we do.

However, unlike love — which, if nurtured properly, can ideally withstand the various ups and downs of the twisted, treacherous roads of life — writing is a different kind of constant. It often will not love you back. And when you walk away from it, it will wait patiently for your return without protest.

If you want to be a writer, you can always be exactly that. Writing requires work, but work is not all we do or all we are. When you take a break, whether short or extensive, you’re not any less of a writer than you were. As long as you intend to return to your work, rather than eternally existing in a state of “maybe tomorrow will be the day I seek out a blank page.”

Breaks are necessary. Vacations, hiatuses, pauses. “Resets.”

We sometimes look down upon these ideas when we should really be yelling about how essential, healthy, and rejuvenating they can be.

It’s often in the absence of the thing you love with all your heart and soul that you realize how much it really means to you.

I’m fairly confident that the most rewarding way to rediscover your love for writing is to walk away until you begin to wonder why you did. And THEN, once you’ve forgotten why you left … come back.

Don’t worry about jumping back into blogging or starting a new book or reconnecting with old clients or … any of that.

Just sit down, find a blank page — any one will do — and start writing.

Because that’s how your writing journey began, after all. You started with nothing, and through doing that you built something beautiful. Something you loved.

Start from your beginning. Remember why you did. And then keep going.

You won’t regret it.


Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is an editor, writer, podcaster, and photographer. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about nonsense and Star Wars.

You’re More Than Just a Writer

Even if writing ends up becoming a side project instead of your main hustle, you’re still the same you.

In January 2019, I stopped being a writer.

I didn’t stop writing. Quite the opposite actually; I proceeded to write 1 million words over the 365 days that made up that year and I promise you, at some point, I will tell you why and how I did that … and why I’ll probably never do it again.

When I say I stopped being a writer, I really mean I stopped writing as a day job. I pretty much stopped getting paid to write.

Moving from a staff writing to an editing position at my place of employment was partially my choice and largely a means of filling a need at the company — one I was both more than qualified and happy to fill.

But it also meant I would no longer spend eight hours a day crafting my own words; instead, I’d be polishing someone else’s. Which was fine and, for the most part, still is over 2 years later.

What I didn’t know at the time was how challenging it would become to keep writing a large, if not the primary focus of my life once it no longer paid my bills. Not only did I have to find other outlets for my words, but also my creativity. I can’t just be happy with writing; I’ve done it for so long that it doesn’t always stimulate my needs the way it used to. Which is fine.

But the more I tried to vary my means of creative expression over the year that followed, the more I struggled to keep writing at the forefront not just of my to-do list, but of my list of passions as well.

I loved to write. I still do. I always will.

My identity, however, no longer rests solely in the fact that sometimes I write things, and every now and then they might be good things.

And that has made me happier than identifying myself as “a writer” ever has.

When we start on this journey of becoming the thing(s) we always dreamed of becoming, we teach ourselves to fear versatility. Granted, there are many people who function best when they focus on one thing. And there is NOTHING wrong wth that.

We can’t let it hold us back from making the most of our creative energy, though. Sometimes you just don’t feel like writing, or you know what you want to write but can’t seem to form the right words in the right order. Or life is just stressful and you’re too spent to even turn your laptop on.

Often times the reason we feel guilty or anxious when we’re not writing comes from our unintentional deprivation of active creativity. We’re not writing, so we think we can’t do anything else. But our brains are BEGGING us to do something. We have thoughts and ideas and energy and seemingly nowhere to put it.

I’ve found the best solution to this is to do the thing, or “a thing,” rather. Creativity takes endless forms. Drawing, even if badly (can relate). Singing (again, badly?), rearranging a bookshelf, SOMETHING.

The only warning label I’ll put on that is that you may accidentally discover, as I did the summer I started an Instagram account completely out of boredom, that even if you’re not good at a lot of things … you might really like exercising your creativity in more ways than just writing.

To avoid the existential crisis that can come with this epiphany, however, I’ll offer you this: Just because you don’t write all the time, or it’s not the only thing you do in your free time or otherwise, doesn’t mean your words or work or effort matter any less than they did before.

Even if writing ends up becoming a side project instead of your main hustle, you’re still the same you. Just with different priorities and maybe a new hobby or two.

You are not defined by one thing you do or say or think or represent. You can be as many or as few things as you want, and that doesn’t have to remain a constant. It can change daily if that’s what floats your canoe. Today, perhaps, you’re an aspiring writer reading this blog post wondering what you’re doing with your life. Tomorrow, maybe, you can be a hopeful creative seeking to define where you want to put your words and what you want them to mean.

Perhaps today I’m a former daily blogger who feels guilty for almost having quit this whole thing, having believed for a day too many that my words were meaningless and the world would be better off without them.

Tomorrow I might take 500 photos of my dog and bake a cake.

Why? Because my interests are many, my heart is full, and if I don’t write for 24 hours that simply means what it always should have — that writing is an important part of my life, but it is not all that I am.

Free yourself from this notion that we have to be an easily digestible thing to the masses. You are today what you choose to be, and that will always be enough.


Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is an editor, writer, podcaster, and photographer. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about nonsense and Star Wars.

Novelty Revisions Is Going On Hiatus

It’s going to take a long time to return to where I was — writing a lot, and often. And loving it.

Yesterday was the first time I’d written something in over two weeks — possibly the longest break from writing I’ve taken in years.

It took two hours to write 500 words. But I wrote them.

It’s going to take a long time to return to where I was — writing a lot, and often. And loving it.

I started this blog because of my love for writing and my hope that I could share what I was learning with other aspiring writers such as myself. Inspiring creators and offering hope to the down and discouraged has become a passion I never expected to discover from an 11-year-old blog.

Right now, though I know that passion and excitement will return in time, it’s buried deep beneath a barely manageable amount of pain and mistrust and uncertainty.

Putting myself out there right now, even through words, is extremely difficult and draining. I deeply value myself and my work and what I have to offer all of you. But certain recent events have forced me to question what writing really means to me. How it’s meant to fit into my life moving forward. Where I want to take it. How I want to use it.

To continue on pretending I have the confidence and stamina to offer help and advice to writers would be dishonest, if behind the screen I didn’t myself believe my words held any meaning.

I care about all of you and want to do whatever I can to help you succeed.

But not right now.

I will return — in a week? A month? A year? I don’t know.

I’ve lost my spark.

And I won’t return until I’ve found it again.

Take care of yourselves. Keep writing. Don’t give up.

But if you need to take a break … take a break. I doubt you’ll regret it.


Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is an editor and writer, and a 12-time NaNoWriMo winner. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about writing, food, and Star Wars.

12 Things Writers Can Actually Control

4. Whether or not you submit your work to an editor, publisher, agent, or publication — and when.

1. What you write about on your own time.

2. Your writing goals.

3. Whether or not you decide to write instead of doing … literally anything else.

4. Whether or not you submit your work to an editor, publisher, agent, or publication — and when.

Continue reading “12 Things Writers Can Actually Control”

10 Things All Writers Must Learn About Rejection

2. It hurts because you care. Because you’re passionate about your work. You genuinely want to succeed.

1. It happens to everyone — but that doesn’t mean you have to pretend it doesn’t bother you.

2. It hurts because you care. Because you’re passionate about your work. You genuinely want to succeed.

3. It’s not always because you did something “wrong.” Sometimes, e.g., a pitch and a magazine just don’t match.

4. You will not bounce back from rejection the same way every time. Each will affect you differently. And that’s OK.

Continue reading “10 Things All Writers Must Learn About Rejection”

12 Lessons My Creative Writing Mentor Taught Me

4. Learn how to write from people writing better than you.

1. You’re never so good at writing that you don’t need to practice, learn, or grow.

2. Sharing your work publicly isn’t optional.

3. It doesn’t matter how “bad” you think it is. Submit it. You have nothing to lose but your fear of failing.

4. Learn how to write from people writing better than you.

Continue reading “12 Lessons My Creative Writing Mentor Taught Me”

10 Lies About Writing That Might Be Holding You Back

4. If writing is a struggle for you, it must not be “for you.”

1. Once you decide on a writing goal, you can never change it.

2. You should never tell other people about your ideas.

3. You need to have an advanced degree in writing or a related subject to be successful.

4. If writing is a struggle for you, it must not be “for you.”

Continue reading “10 Lies About Writing That Might Be Holding You Back”

The 12 Habits of Writers Who Can Focus on More Than One Project at a Time

3. Recognizing the difference between opportunities and distractions.

1. Saying yes more often than you say no — but also saying no when your plate is full.

2. Setting ambitious yet manageable writing goals.

3. Recognizing the difference between opportunities and distractions.

4. Setting limits. A few projects at a time — great. After three or four, you’re kind of getting into “my head is spinning and I can’t sleep and also what are words” territory.

Continue reading “The 12 Habits of Writers Who Can Focus on More Than One Project at a Time”

10 Lessons Your Unfinished Writing Projects Will Teach You

4. Continuing to work on a project you have no passion for or interest in (just for the sake of finishing it) is never worth it.

1. Even 500 words of a story is an accomplishment worth celebrating.

2. You’ll forget about the unfinished stories that never would have landed anyway — and that’s OK.

3. You will forgive yourself for walking away. Most of the time, it’s for the best.

4. Continuing to work on a project you have no passion for or interest in is never worth it.

Continue reading “10 Lessons Your Unfinished Writing Projects Will Teach You”