“What could you possibly have to say about cleaning?”
said my husband before I pitched Reader's Digest
If I wasn’t on social media, I wouldn’t have half my bylines.
It’s true: though spending time on X/Twitter often feels like a waste, like time that could be spent doing the real work, it didn’t take me long into my publishing journey to learn that if I wanted to get published, I needed to give editors what they wanted.
And editors will often tell you exactly what they want on social media.
This happens in various places. Editors post calls on X/Twitter or in private writing Facebook groups. (One of my favorite newsletters that curates many of these calls is Sonia Weiser’s Opportunities of the Week.)
I began following specific editors at publications where I hoped to break in. And I found that my scrolling routine changed: rather than watching videos of mom influencers perfecting their morning routine or baking sourdough bread, I began scouring the internet to see what editors wanted from writers.
One day, I stumbled upon this call (it’s out of date now, so don’t respond to it) from editor, Aviva Patz at Reader’s Digest online:
Reader's Digest online is seeking personal essays on CLEANING. Some ideas:
How some cleaning detente/deal saved your marriage...
How you stopped cleaning for 2 weeks in protest and here’s what happened...
Some genius cleaning tip that changed your life
Your secret love for deep cleaning
How you're addicted to CleanTok videos??
Some cleaning quest you've fulfilled (getting out a longtime stain, finally clearing the attic clutter, maintaining an immaculate car interior...)
Any other compelling narrative related to cleaning!
I thought this call was so generous (she did so much brainstorming for you!). And even though the topic of cleaning wasn’t something I regularly wrote about, well, why couldn’t I try?
I had, after all, written a book about purity culture.
Purity culture, cleanliness is next to godliness, wash me and I’ll be whiter than snow: I began making free associations of things I did write about that were, at least tangentially, related to the topic of cleaning.
I’d grown up reading Reader’s Digest at my grandmother’s house on long, sprawling afternoons. I knew enough about the publication to know that they weren’t looking for anything too existential or controversial.
My pitch needed some practicality to it.
At first, I leaned into my inclination to deconstruct (anything! everything!) and wrote an anti-cleaning pitch.
This was a failed pitch (she responded but said no).
I think looking at failed pitches can be useful, though, and so I’m going to share it with you:
Dear Aviva Patz,
I hope you're well! I love Reader's Digest, and I was excited to see your call for personal essay pitches about cleaning in UPOD Academy. I hope you'll consider my 600-word personal essay tentatively titled, "I could have clean sheets -- but I've chosen breakfast in bed with my boys instead."
Like many parents, the hardest part of transitioning into motherhood wasn't having a child -- it was all the other ways my life was upended. Spending so much time alone in the house during the postpartum period made me hyperfocus on all the flaws in our home: the dog hair piled near the air vents, the coffee stains on the linoleum, the discolored grout around the tub.
It wasn't until I visited a therapist and discussed all the ways I felt I was failing that I realized my biggest successes happened in the midst of messes, not in pursuit of cleanliness. This essay will discuss chores I've trained myself to ignore in order to pursue present (rather than perfect) motherhood.
Here was her reply:
Hi Anna. Thanks for reaching out. I like the idea of choosing kids over chores, but I feel like it’s not a great fit for this cluster because it’s sort of anti-cleaning (making peace with mess in a way). OK if I hold onto the idea for possible use down the line? And if it’s accepted elsewhere in the meantime, please let me know. Thanks so much!
Photo by Perfect Snacks on Unsplash
I thought this was such a gracious no — and the fact that she seemed interested in the concept, perhaps, in the future, gave me the courage to try pitching her again.
With her feedback, I tried to refine my focus. I wrote the rough draft of this next pitch while in the car line to pick up my son from school.
This is something I often do: whenever I have to wait for something, I will brainstorm pitches. During the five minutes my car idled in line, I voice dictated a rough draft of a pitch in the Notes app of my phone.
In this new pitch, rather than deconstructing cleaning, I discussed how I made cleaning fun with my kids by gamifying it.
Later that evening, after I’d fixed and cleaned up dinner, my kids watched Pokémon, and I typed out a more polished draft of what I’d dictated earlier that afternoon. Then I scheduled my pitch to send during normal business hours the following day.
Here’s the (this time, successful!) pitch I sent:
Dear Aviva Patz,
I hope you're well! Thanks for considering my previous pitch. I have another essay idea about cleaning that I would love to run past you. I hope you'll consider my 500-word personal essay tentatively titled, "Cleaning with small children felt impossible -- until I gamified it."
Like any parent of young children knows, there simply weren't enough hours in the day. Between work and homework, soccer practice and bathtime, my house was in disarray. I didn't want to spend precious moments after my kids' bedtimes vacuuming the living room or folding laundry. But I also didn't want to sacrifice quality time with my children to dust the baseboards.
Everything changed, though, once I decided to involve my children in the keeping of our home. And I made cleaning fun rather than a chore by gamifying it. Toy pick up was a timed competition. Dusting coincided with a dance party. Filling a bucket with soap and water for mopping was its own sort of science experiment. Multitasking what I needed to do with what my children wanted to do made everyone happier in our home.
And here was her response:
Hi Anna. We don’t usually cover kids/parenting but I think this idea will resonate with a lot of people. I’m thinking of a headline like: “I Turned Cleaning into a Game—And Now My Kids Love Helping Out” or some such. Does that ring true?
It did — and I accepted the assignment. I filed the piece within several days. It went live about a month or two later.
As far as rates go, Reader’s Digest online paid me $400 for a minimum of 400 words. When I went to write the piece, I was given very specific guidelines about using subheadings and including key words for search optimization. I was also asked to send a personal picture to pair with the story.
If you’re interested, here’s the essay: I turned cleaning into a game -- and now my kids love to help out.
What questions do you have about finding editors’ calls online? And what would you like to know about my experience of writing for Reader’s Digest? Ask me in the comments. And thanks for reading!
This is part of a monthly series called Path to Publication.
In it, I will unpack the story behind my stories. These reflections are part process, part strategy.
There will be clear takeaways for your own creative work. I will include sample pitches, along with editors’ names and rates (at the time my published pieces went live). I’m sharing the intel I’ve gathered in the hope that it can help you place your own work.
At the beginning of 2022, I had, essentially, zero bylines. Since then (in the span of two years), I’ve published nearly 50 short essays. It’s not like I became particularly prolific. I’ve always been a writer. I just became serious about learning the tips and tricks for placing a piece in a popular outlet. And that’s what I’m looking forward to sharing with you.
This is so helpful! Glad to have found your writing here.
These are so helpful, thank you! I'm doing laundry now and binge-listening! Do you still address editors by "Dear [first name last name]" or would "Hi [first name]" be better? It feels so formal!