I’m trying so hard to get published. Much of it has nothing to do with your talents, or even your efforts to not give up—it is luck, the market, and these days it seems to be how many “followers” you have or your internet presence.
I’ve signed up for several writing websites where I try to post comments just to get my name out. I discovered Writer Unboxed, which has a daily blog entry about writing and publishing, written by their group of writers. It’s very informative and supportive of writers. I’m not sure how many subscribers they have, or who reads the comments, but I’ve recognized names on there. (One of whom, Donald Maas, is a biggie who rejected BELIEVE. 😔 A commenter consoled me by saying it is ”a rite of passage” to be rejected by Maas.)
Writer Unboxed is celebrating the twentieth anniversary of its web page:
https://writerunboxed.com/2026/01/24/20-years-a-writer-unboxed-milestone-and-a-contest
They discussed, “How do we recognize/celebrate this?” One contributor as a joke said, “With pie!” The idea was popular, so Writer Unboxed went with it and asked people to enter a simile comparing something in writing with pie. I figured, what the heck, I’d enter one.
LOOKY THIS! ⬇️
https://writerunboxed.com/2026/02/02/and-our-simile-contest-winner-is
This is HUGE to me, not even because I am winning a pie, but because it is a recognition in the writing world! I know you guys know how much this means to me. It’s a minor award in the greater scheme of things, but it is the first real recognition I’ve received.
I confess to having impostor syndrome. Apparently every ‘writer’ has it, so I’m in good company. It’s the sense of not being a genuine writer unless…well, unless what?
I’m guessing for many of us it is being published, as though our efforts are meaningless unless we have tangible proof in the form of a physical book. I get it. I thirst for cradling one of my manuscripts in print almost as though it were a precious newborn. I’ve certainly labored over them, and the incubation period for them has made me think I’m gestating an elephant.
Every web page or internet writing resource firmly declares that if you write, you are a writer, regardless of the stage you’re at. It could be thinking about writing a first manuscript all the way to being a Pulitzer Prize literature winner. You’re a writer. I need to recite that mantra when self-doubt consumes me. Nothing is as sweet as belonging wherever that place is where you want to fit in. It’s thrilling to have your beta readers say they love your prose, although the evil twin impostor whispers “they’re just saying that because they like you.” It’s even better to have people who don’t know you like what you wrote.