In this week’s edition of J-School Confidential, a young magazine entrepreneur and former j-school lecturer offers his perspective from the other side of the lecture podium. The conclusions he draws about the readiness of j-school students to take on the media world will surprise even the most hardened industry vet.

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My friend and mentor Michael A. Walsh — a Visiting Professor at Boston University when I attended there, winner of the National Book Award, a 16-year music critic for Time, and screenwriter of the Disney Channel’s highest-rated program — has a saying: “I never applied for a job I got, and I never got a job I applied for.”

It’s an interesting paradigm shift, and the recipe for stress-free living: reach the heights of journalistic stardom by going about your business, striving to the beat of your own ambition, and making due as the chips fall where they will. It brings to mind another saying, attributed to the Roman philosopher Seneca: “Luck happens when preparation meets opportunity.”

I never graduated from journalism school. I never even applied to one. When Boston University’s College of Communication appointed me as its youngest faculty member — a post I held for a year until the eight-hour roundtrip train ride from New York City to Boston became too cumbersome — it was truly a matter of being in the right place at the right time. I was in town to see my best friend and business partner graduate college, but had some spare time to stop by the Journalism Department and show Professor Caryl Rivers, whose advice was instrumental to our first magazine’s launch, copies of Citizen Culture‘s debut issue.

Pleased, she suggested I show the department head; I went further, offering internships to B.U. students seeking an “in” to the industry. Imagine my surprise when he replied, “Actually, one of own professors just took a sabbatical year. Do you want his class?”

Um … sure. Thus I became a university lecturer at age 24.

The first day teaching “Magazine Business Development (for the 21st Century)”, I recalled how blas_? most professors seem about the new semester: another syllabus, another set of sheltered know-it-alls, maybe a bright-eyed wannabe somewhere in the mix. I was surely going to be different; after all, I was younger than half my graduate students.

From my eclectic trove of hundreds of magazines, I hauled around seventy-five into the room, spread them across four tables, and instructed the students to go buck-wild, comparing, contrasting, and charting every distinguishing characteristic. Time, Atlantic Monthly, Scientific American, Playboy, Plenty, Details, Out, Redbook, Fast Company, Consumer Reports, URB, Men’s Health, Women’s Health, Rolling Stone, Road & Track, Highlights, Harvard Business Review. The assignment — “Determine what works, what doesn’t, and why” — seemed simple at first.

The boldface truth of the semester was that if you__?ve got the chops to get into j-school, you__?re likely better-skilled that most full-time pros.

But the students quickly learned that crafting a perfect magazine, like a perfect pitch — like a perfect lover — is a doomed enterprise; it’s a trick question, because it doesn’t exist. Clich_? though it may sound, the eye of the beholder is the only gauge of interest that matters — and that lesson applies equally well to writers, editors, artists, even salespeople. A quick glance at MagazineDeathPool.com proves beyond the pale of doubt that that which soareth like a rocket, falleth with a thud. On the flip side of the same coin, sometimes unexpected adventures in creativity — Reader’s Digest, Consumer Reports, Mental Floss, anyone? — yield game-changing innovation.

By semester’s end, several of the most innovation concepts and designs I’ve ever seen in the publishing world emerged: A local magazine for the ski summit crowd, perfectly designed to fit on the bar. A magazine for single dads. Even the world’s first all-inclusive weddings magazine; a particularly ambitious student team joined my company to prototype With This Ring. The boldface truth of the semester, which most journalism teachers are disinclined to tell you, emerged loud and clear and utterly unspoken before my students’ curious eyes: if you’ve got the chops to get into j-school, you’re likely better-skilled than most full-time media professionals.

Consider why:

Journalism is about simultaneously selling yourself as an expert and your stories as worth reading. Thus in media, like in entrepreneurship, failure can be more profoundly instructive than success by forcing the aspirant to be hungry and resourceful, to stand up and pay attention. Sources defect, ledes fall apart, deadlines ebb and flow; everyone gets it wrong sometimes. Even University of Mississippi professor Samir Husni, a man so revered that he’s been dubbed “Mr. Magazine.” Remember Sync? Suede? Success? All recently made his “Most Notable” list … and don’t exist just a few years later.

But know this: uniqueness, evocation, and persistence earn a seat at the media table — a lesson equally applicable to writers, artists, ad salesmen, editors, and would-be publishers.

Consider 944, the best-overall magazine I’ve seen launch and grow over the past five years, was born in Phoenix and is curiously named (allegedly after a telephone exchange). After identifying a niche market that was growing economically yet light on competition, they put together a beautiful, well-edited product; then diversified and exploded into major markets with a solid financial footing. This all goes to prove the point that grassroots hustles can pay the bills. Time, after all, bestows credibility.

I’ll never forget the day my students discussed editorial authority, piping up about whimsical tendencies like objectivity and bias that other professors sought to exorcize. “Excuse me,” I asked, “but did Lou Dobbs, Maria Bartiromo, Bill O’Reilly, Erin Burnett, Keith Olbermann, William Safire, the editorial page of the Wall Street Journal, and of course, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert (whose professional affiliation may as well be “America”) become trusted reporters of our national condition by lacking opinions?”

Of course not.

The media knows better than anyone that our country does not suffer ambivalence. Wannabes must take note — and take sides — to gain authority, the endgame and grail of journalism; they must bear their teeth and integrity to the world. Live the imperative to thrust beyond the obvious, dig a little deeper, ask the uncomfortable questions, and at base, try, try again.

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Jonathon Scott Feit is president & CEO/chief editor & publisher of the Feit Family Ventures Corporation/Feit Publishing Ventures, a diversified, mission-driven, entrepreneurial company that publishes Citizen Culture and With This Ring magazines, as well as the “Equality Media Newsletter.”

In this week’s edition of J-School Confidential, a third semester NYU student sounds off on the difficulties of getting published while immersed in schoolwork. He details his successes (including an upcoming article in The New York Times) and examines his failures (two NYT rejections), while showing how NYU both helped and hurt his freelancing career.

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Here’s the tricky thing about j-school: it’s a professional education dressed in liberal arts finery. This tension between the vocational and the intellectual is what makes the best programs so exhilarating, and what makes them, at times, so frustrating. Journalists must think critically and read voraciously, but they’re not journalists if they don’t publish, if they don’t engage with the world outside the classroom. Figuring out how to do both is j-school’s challenge.

It’s probably fair to say that I enrolled in the most bookish of NYU’s graduate journalism programs — Cultural Reporting and Criticism. Our program’s founder, the late Ellen Willis, was The New Yorker‘s first pop music critic. We read Pauline Kael and Jane Kramer, Lester Bangs and David Remnick. We meant to be cultural critics, to write long-form nonfiction. (We still might.) At best, we felt ambiguous about hard reporting, at worst, terrified.

CRC has been great — intellectually rigorous and combative — and entirely unique. Few journalism programs begin with serious discussions about students’ listening and reading habits (Wilco, Broken Social Scene; Zadie Smith, John Banville). But while I haven’t always pushed hard to get published, CRC has done little to help me do so. I suspect this would be true for many programs, but it’s certainly been true for mine. With graduation just months away, the need to balance bylines and academics — commitments that often seem mutually exclusive — has become even more of an issue.

This is not to say that publishing is impossible — it’s not. Or that I haven’t — I have. It’s just that one can’t expect your program to do it for you. The trick is to engage with journalism’s rich literature without hiding behind it.

My first major success came last summer, a full two-thirds through my degree. All spring semester I had been working on a profile of a nonprofit arts group and avant-garde radio station — Williamsburg’s free103point9. Doubting that mainstream publications would be receptive to such an obscure subject, I pitched it cold to the Brooklyn Rail. The Rail‘s music editor, it turned out, loved free103 and always thought they deserved more attention. I got 1,500 words and a full page. The lack of a paycheck seemed a small price to pay.

The Rail was painless — and it was all mine. Besides casual recommendations from friends and faculty, I had made the connection on my own. And since I filed the piece during summer break, there was no need to accommodate two deadlines or two, often opposing, sets of expectations. Most importantly, I developed a relationship with a respected arts publication. Next month the Rail is publishing my 1,200-word review of Oliver Sacks’ Musicophilia.

Getting into The New York Times would be a different story. Last winter, I pitched the City Section a short piece about the Lower East Side Tenement Museum. (My professor had given me an editor’s email address.) “The topic is interesting, but a little too programmy for our tastes_????_ But thanks for thinking of us,” the Times wrote back. At least I got a response.

This time the Times gave me the thumbs-up. My piece is slated to hit stands later this month.

Earlier this semester I tried again, this time pitching a story about a trio of performance artists in Brooklyn. Yes, the Times said, we’ll take it on spec. The reporting went well, they even sent out a photographer. I sweated over my 500 words, had a professor look over my draft, and sent it in. A couple days later, I got a phone call. They liked it, but not enough to print.

NYU made sure I got another shot. The City Section editor I spoke with earlier visited my class. All eight of my classmates had pitches. We sold four of them, mine included. And this time — after trekking up to Inwood to interview tenants about a particularly noisy neighbor — the Times gave me the thumbs-up. My piece is slated to hit stands later this month.

I owe most of my success to my professor’s City Section connection. Although his class is a perfect example of how tricky it is to publish while pursuing a full-time degree, there’s little question I would have gotten such a sympathetic response to my query without talking with the Times in-person.

Now, more than ever, I want to be out in the real world freelancing. The idea that I might have what it takes to make a living (or part of a living) doing so is intoxicating. NYU hasn’t given me any clear answers. But situated as it is on the line between a professional and a liberal arts degree, I don’t know if it’s a question J-school can answer. I’ve got to find that out for myself.

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John MacDonald is a graduate student in the Cultural Reporting and Criticism program at New York University. He lives in Brooklyn. He can be reached at jmacdonald324 at GMAIL dot COM.

As the semester draws to a close, a Columbia j-schooler reflects on the skills she’s learned and the work remaining to be done. From a favorite assignment on observation to the difficulty of interviewing the elderly, she discusses the eye-opening first five months.

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Every autumn I try to leave New York to see the evidence of the seasons changing. But as the semester’s insanity closed around me, I could only watch as the ginkgo tree around the corner from my apartment shed its leaves and littered the sidewalk with its noxious berries. Act I of j-school is about to come to a close and it’s time to take stock of how far I’ve come and where I’m going.

I’ve always considered myself a slow eater and a slow writer. And it was a delightful revelation when I realized I was no longer the latter. At my old job, a month-long deadline for a 1,200-word story felt too rushed. So when my professor started pulling events from the AP Day Book and sending us out to cover them, I was sure I couldn’t possibly report on a morning event and meet a deadline in the afternoon. But to my surprise and delight, I could.

This discovery has been completely liberating. Now I know I can and should dedicate most of my time to reporting, because the writing comes so quickly. Still, not everything has changed. Sitting through dinner with me continues to be torturous. It takes me half an hour to finish a slice of pizza even when I’m ravenous.

The second discovery of the semester is that I have two perfectly functioning eyeballs. This sounds silly but as a magazine editor, I did all my reporting over the phone. Plus, most of the service pieces I wrote didn’t call for a ton of visual details, so I never really had an opportunity to look around.

This semester, starting with an observation exercise (600 words, no adjectives) about Penn Station, my professors have encouraged me to report with my senses, and I’ve fallen in love with the process.

If my next employer needs me to shoot some video or make an audio slideshow, I am confident I can stand up and deliver.

Of course, this love affair with details can result in an agonizing editing process. Professor Sig Gissler calls it “killing your kittens,” which entails removing beloved tidbits from the story. I fill my notebooks with colors, scents, and sounds, and even if those details don’t make into the final piece, I feel better when I sit down to write because I can turn to these specifics.

I’ve also become techno-savvy. Although I’ve lived with a bona fide technology expert for the past five years, I never learned the tools of his trade. But the past semester has provided a trial by fire in audio and video recording and editing. Am I ready to be the next Ken Burns? Not quite. But if my next employer needs me to shoot some video or make an audio slideshow, I am confident I can stand up and deliver.

But enough patting myself on the back, I still have a lot to do in the coming semester. Looking over all the stories I’ve written, I can see a gap between what I set out to do in the beginning, and what ends up on the page. Overall, I need to work on getting more sources and talking to more people so that I can be flexible with which quotes I use.

Part of this is an interviewing problem. During street reporting, I need to get better at asking follow-up questions and go beyond the first surface answer. Unfortunately, in those situations, I’m half-nervous and half-grateful to have someone talk and sometimes my brain disengages.

I also need to think more about the way I ask questions. This month I was reporting on how some older residents in my beat dislike the young new bikers, and all the new bike lanes and bike parking that the city is proposing. It was easy to get the 20-somethings to talk about problems they’ve had in the area, but I couldn’t figure out how to get the old-timers to open up to me.

Luckily, I have one more semester to shape up, and no doubt pinpoint other areas that need work. Stay tuned.

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Katia Bachko is a writer and editor in New York City. You can reach her at www.katiabachko.com

I opened my e-mail today to find a letter from Columbia University requesting that I submit all my paperwork for graduation.

“Graduation!” I shouted at my computer screen. “But I just got here.”

Classes in the M.A. program began just over three months ago, and my first semester back in J-School winds to a close next week, I can hardly believe that I am halfway through my time here.

In many ways — adjusting to the graduate school schedule, getting to know my classmates, making a lasting impression on my professors — I feel I have just arrived at school and could easily extend my time on campus.

But in more ways, the past semester has felt a great deal longer than three months. Since starting J-School, I have probably read more than I had in the entire preceding year. My home office overflows with assigned magazines, newspapers, textbooks, journal articles, nonfiction books and novels that probably constitute a slight fire hazard.

While I did not enjoy every text I read this semester, the assignments have absolutely benefited me as a journalist. I garnered insight into framing stories, finding “truth” and conducting interviews by seeing how various social scientists — from anthropologists to historians — do so.

Over the past three months, I also learned to conduct archival research and oral history interviews. I have gone from possessing virtually no Web experience to creating a personal Web site to serve as a portfolio of my work.

Persistently reading the business pages of national newspapers and perusing every business magazine for which I can find the time has served to reinforce the lessons gleaned from my business and economics seminar, the core of my curriculum and by far my most valuable class.

I have written close to a dozen business stories on topics ranging from Wal-Mart to oil prices, and have gained a practical understanding of macro-economic policies that my undergraduate J-School degree never afforded me. Comparing my stories from the beginning of the semester to my more recent pieces reassures me that I will emerge from this program a much improved, and much more skilled reporter.

In August, I wrote a column for this Web site wondering if my decision to return to J-School would prove the right one. At the time, I was engaged, employed and living in Manhattan. Now, I’m married, attending graduate school full-time and living in Queens.

Living on loans is only enjoyable until they come due.

My husband has been fantastically supportive of my decision to return to school, but our status as a one-income family has forced us in some ways into the traditional gender roles to which we never before ascribed. It makes sense for me to do laundry and start dinner while I am home all day reading, and for him to pay the bills since he is the one contributing to our “joint” bank account. But we both look forward to returning to the more modern, task-splitting approach that served us much better in the years we lived together before marriage.

Prior to returning to school, I worried that seeking a master’s degree when I already had a J-School degree and several years reporting experience might turn out to be a very costly career misstep.

Columbia has challenged me academically and allowed me to become re-engaged in the profession I have loved in since childhood. My classmates and my professors are experienced and interesting, and interacting with them represents an intellectual opportunity I could never replicate. Like me, my classmates have generally logged a few years in the field, somewhat assuaging my concerns that working journalists have no use for a graduate degree.

In terms of my education, I am certain I made the right decision. Still, I have learned that the student lifestyle to which I so looked forward no longer suits me. I cannot wait to return to the workforce, regaining a regular schedule (or as regular as a journalist’s schedule can be) and — more importantly — a regular paycheck. Living on loans is only enjoyable until they come due. Conventional wisdom on campus seems to hold that the business journalism concentration students in the M.A. program get the best paying jobs. This belief has led to a few envious remarks from classmates, but I am happy to bear the brunt of the resentment if it turns out to be true.

The real test of the decision to return to school will come this spring, when my job hunt truly begins. But I can’t think about that just yet. Rumor has it that the second semester of the M.A. program is far more rigorous than the first. There’s also that pesky little 10,000-word thesis required for graduation.

I am trying my best to actually slow down, experience and enjoy my time here. I fear that next time I’m caught off guard by an email, it will be from the alumni office, and I may still feel as if I have only just arrived.

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Beth Braverman is a freelance writer and graduate student at the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism. She lives in Astoria, N.Y.

Three years ago, Columbia unveiled its new MA in journalism. Unlike the famous MS program, which taught fledgling newsmongers the ins and outs of reporting, the MA targeted experienced journalists, and sought to give them a broader understanding of arts, science, business, or political theory. As one of the deans once put it, the MS program is for brain surgeons who want to get in to journalism; the MA is for journalists who want to write about brain surgery.

Having already spent four years working in magazines, the idea of the MA appealed to me. I wanted to switch gears in my career: less abs and more art; less olive oil and more cultural criticism from a feminist perspective. Enrolling in the MS — which many of my friends had done a good four years ago, right after college — seemed like a step back. Plus, the deadline to apply for the MA was a full month later than the deadline for the MS, which appealed to me even more.

Now I’m almost halfway through my program and wondering if I made the right choice. It’s too soon to come to any conclusion, and since I’m fully invested in the MA, I’m determined to take advantage of every available opportunity it presents and create some of my own along the way. But the application deadlines are coming soon for any aspiring j-school students, so for those trying to make a similar decision, keep the following in mind:

How much do you want to write?

All my pre-j school clips are service-heavy, bullet-pointed service articles. I looked forward to graduating with a file folder full of articles that demonstrated my cultural savvy and straight reporting skills (or a flash drive — the last time I went to college, they let cows graze on Old Main Lawn and all the freshman had to wear beanies). But the program is so reading-intensive (see below) that I’ve only done two real examples of arts reporting all fall. Our thesis is supposed to be our showcase piece; something to show potential employers at the end of the program, but I wish I’d written more during the semester (which is why I started a blog, a phrase that makes my hair stand on end). On the other hand, they’re two good pieces — one a long profile, one a news piece. Will they be enough?

My working life will be full of corners that need to be cut, and I’ll benefit from knowing what can be jettisoned.

How much do you want to read?

The MA program is intense. At times, it feels like they’re trying to give us a PhD — or at least a two-year masters — in ten months. With good reason — most people in the program have wives, families, and some healthy freelancing responsibilities. Few of my classmates, me included, would have signed on for the program if it took longer than a year. But mother! The reading! Cramming a PhD’s worth of knowledge into a ten-month (nine, considering our long winter break) program is deadly. No one I know does all the reading; even brown-nosers like me have to pick and choose what’s important. This is not a bad thing: My working life will be full of corners that need to be cut, and I’ll benefit from knowing what can be jettisoned.

How deeply do you care about your subject matter?

Do you love business? Are you obsessed with politics? Fascinated by science? Good. Because you’re going to spend a lot of time working on your respective concentration. Six hours of seminar during the week, often with at least six more hours of reading outside of class. Add to that a 10,000-word thesis. If you’re only marginally interested in art theory, you will be totally overwhelmed. It’s important that you have something to gain by studying this topic: For me, it’s a great way to make contacts and do some writing in a field I’m trying to crack. But I’ve talked to students who have worked in their concentration for years and feel like the generalized reporting training in the MS might have been helpful. On the other hand, there are some people who have worked in journalism for a little so wanted to skip the MS, but aren’t super into their concentration. Now, they’re wondering if they shouldn’t have just jumped back into the MS to get a more intense reporting experience, or kept writing on their own just at a more intense pace.

How much fun do you want to have?

“You will have a blast!” promised all my MS-alum friends. And from what I can tell, the MS class is having a blast. They’re working hard, but they’re simulating newsroom conditions, which means big bursts of work, followed by lots of drinking. The MA is more of a long, slow grind, with fewer of the mini-deadlines to break things up (and around which to get drunk). And since the demo is a little older and a little more settled, they’re less likely to hit happy hour at the end of the week. Most of us are taking time off from our jobs — escaping from the real world for a year, instead of postponing our entry into it — so there’s more of a sense of urgency and seriousness than those devil-may-care MS kids. It’s possible that I’m just a loser — there’s an MA happy hour ever week, and when I ventured out to the last one I had a blast. But it does seem that we’re not drinking nearly as much as my friends who graduated in ’02 — though maybe they just an especially soused bunch.

Of course, all this is just my opinion — for some people, this MA is exactly what they wanted. For others, it’s a disaster. As for me, I’m learning a lot from some of my classes, and less from others, and I won’t know for sure if I made the right decision about which program I chose until this summer — you know, when I do or don’t land one of those illusive, high-paying, high-status journalism jobs. It is good to be back in academia, talking with smart people about interesting things, rather than being stuck in Pennsylvania writing about sex yoga. No matter what happens in June, I still have six more months of that.

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Kate Dailey is a Gordon Grey Fellow at Columbia University

I am not a traditional journalist.

Safety hidden behind the shrouded walls of j-school, aided by my adviser, this idea was easy to overlook. However, as I began to prepare to hand off Speakeasy, an online magazine I spent nearly three years nurturing, to a new managing editor, and continue to throw myself into more internships, I have been forced to wrap my head around this fact.

While I’ve spent time watching news organizations attempt to figure out how to adjust their publications to the advantages and challenges of the Internet, I asked myself the same questions.

Why were some professors, and even students, so skeptical when we started Speakeasy? Why do I find myself fighting an uphill battle in embracing the online world even among my peers?

My first two years at Ohio University protected me from the “real world” of journalism, the world that would eventually reveal how far behind many newspapers and magazines are and how cable television “news” still ruled the world. I was lucky enough to be assigned to an adviser who is greatly committed to reforming journalism — he is an idealist in his own right and has greatly shaped my outlook on the role of the Internet — but he also gave me a skewed perception of the collective thought of the j-school professors.

What I have learned is that I had wrongly assumed that the transition journalism was making as a profession was nearing completion. I thought that traditional journalism was settling into its place among the new endeavors popping up all over the Web.

It wasn’t until Mark Prendergast, a former editor with The New York Times, accepted the year-long visiting professor position at Scripps that I realized what an anomaly Speakeasy is. He was intrigued by our project, not just because it was an online magazine, but by the idea that a newsroom could exist almost solely on the Internet. While the staff meets on a weekly basis to do short workshops and discuss the latest news, work is done entirely through email, instant messaging, the content management system, and occasionally urgent phone calls.

I have never spent one day working on my college paper, even though many professors within Scripps continued to tout it as the only way to get experience

One of Scripps’ PhD candidates, who helps mentor Speakeasy, even wrote a paper on the nature of online-only student publications.

Enter Scoop08: A publication whose operations I consider to be Speakeasy on steroids. Because we operate with hundreds of students over many time zones in different states and countries, we have no choice. No other time in history would this have been possible.

We do not have a physical newsroom. We do not have the money to purchase enhanced online office software (and for this reason, Google is our best friend). We even attempted using a free conference call software. As it is, we are still experimenting with and developing a system for making our editing process run as smoothly as possible.

As students ranging in age from high school freshmen to post-grads, we balance our traditional educations with the world we are currently experiencing. Scoop08 is an attempt to influence both journalism and the election we are reporting on.

I have never spent one day working on my college paper, even though many professors within Scripps continued to tout it as the only way to get experience. (This is changing, slowly.) My internships have all been either online-only or the online divisions of a television station, newspaper, and magazines.

“Traditional” journalism is not all bad. I have certainly learned the value of putting articles through a rigorous editing process, and the value of balanced reporting and seeking out unique sources. There are plenty of practices that are vital to keeping the practice of journalism intact. But that doesn’t mean we have to be traditional journalists, regardless of the impression we get from our academic institutions.

Students are becoming aware of the skills they need to have to enter the world of journalism today. The online journalism classes at Scripps get filled up so fast that spots now have to be reserved for the online majors so they can get into the classes they need to graduate.

There is no class that can fully prepare us as well as our experiences in the field will, but if there’s anywhere where experimentation within the profession should be encouraged, it is in the classroom and our college publications.

Unfortunately, I doubt that journalism schools will ever find themselves ahead of the curve in terms of best practices. Most of my professors have been out of the field for at least five years, a fact that helps create a stagnate environment. This is why it is so vital for j-schools to bring in professors like Prendergast, who can provide a better idea of where the journalism world currently stands, even if it is just a snapshot.

Even with those professors, however, it is impossible for j-schools to continue educating the future of the profession if they continue to harbor a limited understanding of the present.

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Meghan Louttit is a journalism student at Ohio University and is a former intern at American Express Publishing and mediabistro.com.

Self-publishing is a risky proposition that most writers would like to avoid. Many authors self-publish only after receiving numerous rejections from editors and agents. Others use these rejections as guides for rewriting their work, making it stronger and more saleable. As a former book reviewer for Kirkus Discoveries, the paid review division of Kirkus that handled self-published and print-on-demand works, I saw many of the same fixable mistakes in book after book. These mistakes often got soft treatment by reviewers who assumed that self-published authors would not, or could not, learn to write better. Without agents or editors, there were few other people giving these writers usable feedback. Here is a quick guide for translating this review-speak into actual critique, with advice from authors, editors and agents on how to fix these mistakes and make your book more saleable.

“An interesting beginning”

“Interesting” is always a loaded word in reviews — a way of saying “different” when different means bad. The beginning of your book is the most important part, since those opening pages determine whether an agent (and eventually an editor and reader) are going to buy the book or put it back on the table.

“The most common mistake I’ve found is the first chapter front-loaded with backstory,” says Kate Angelella, assistant editor at Aladdin/Simon & Schuster. “Often times, too, the story doesn’t start in the right place. There should be a reason the story begins where it does — why have you chosen this particular moment to begin your story? It’s the oldest advice in the book, but a first chapter, a first paragraph, even a first line should draw the reader in and never let go.”

“Exposition is a real pitfall,” says Rebecca Chace, visiting assistant professor at Bard College, professor of creative writing at CCNY, and author of Capture the Flag and Chautauqua Summer. “If you don’t start your story with something strong and compelling, we aren’t going to keep reading.”

“Interesting” is always a loaded word in reviews — a way of saying “different” when different means bad.

Her recommendation for avoiding an opening chapter that drags? “The best way to avoid early/clunky exposition is in media res — it’s never a bad idea to start in the middle of an event.” Though explaining things simply and clearly can help, (i.e. let the reader know that this story take place in 1977, in New York City), start the story with some action to draw the reader in, and fill in the important details as you go.

“Terse, minimalist style”

Books I reviewed were frequently set in worlds with extremely limited sensory input: no textures, tastes or smells, and only the occasional visual detail or sound. Color often seemed like the subtlest of descriptors. Whole chapters could go by explaining the action to the reader, without ever describing a single scene. Minimalism can be beautiful, but the art is in choosing the telling detail, not avoiding description altogether.

Angelella says that in her experience going through the pile of unsolicited manuscripts that she considers, one of the biggest “pitfall[s] of writing is when people tell action, rather than showing it.”

“Instead of explicitly declaring that a character is sad, show us a character who’s sad,” says Bret Anthony Johnston, director of creative writing at Harvard and author of Corpus Christi and Naming the World. “And show us a character who’s sad in an interesting or singular way.”

“Elaborate, emotional prose”

On the other hand, some authors seemed to have never met an adjective they didn’t love. In their haste to be as descriptive as possible, authors of the books I reviewed often included pairs of words that were subtly (or glaringly) at odds with one another. The room wasn’t “yellow,” it was “the color of sun-drenched butter, like the peel of an orange or the dappled wing of a Monarch butterfly.” Cluttering up your work with useless verbiage is as bad as not providing any description at all, since the end result is the same: the reader is left with nothing to hold on to.

Johnston has a trick for dealing with this problem. “I read the offending passage aloud while the members of the workshop close their eyes,” he says. “I ask them to see what the prose is describing. Usually, the indulgent language compromises rather than illuminates the surface or emotion or action that’s being rendered; the words muddy the vision. From there, we strip the prose down until we find its core, the most elegant and powerful combination of words that will enable, rather than undermine, the reader to see.”

“Unusual and inventive plot structure”

Sometimes I reviewed books whose characters moved across the page with no motivation — other than a burning desire to fulfill a pre-conceived narrative arc — even when it made no sense with their stated impulses, personalities or histories. These books read like the stories told by small children. “And then this happened, and then this happened, and then this___”

This is a common issue with Johnston’s students at Harvard. “I ask my students to give their protagonists something specific to want.” Why is motivation so important? “Once a character wants something, the reader wants it too.” To keep your audience reading, Johnston says, “once you make [them] want something, make them wait for it.”

“A thorough exploration of the author’s ideals”

A few of the books resembled propaganda more than fiction. These were in some ways the saddest, as they often showed the most promise at the beginning. Indeed, having a unique voice is one of the things that Angelella says gets her most attention: “If I read a manuscript with a compelling voice, if it draws me in and makes me miss my train stop (as one, recently, did), that is a manuscript worth pursuit.”

But there is such a thing as going too far. The author’s point-of-view should not get in the way of a believable or well written story. In many self-published books, there comes a point at which the demands of good writing and the demands of the author’s political (or moral, or medicinal) agenda were at odds, and good writing always lost. Intricate plots and subtle worlds were built up, only to have a happy ending slapped over them as soon as the characters accepted [insert savior] as the solution to all their problems. Remember, your character’s desires — not yours — must drive the book, or it won’t make sense to the reader.

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Hugh Ryan is a freelance writer and journalist living in Brooklyn, New York.

When Dan Stupp was a journalism major and aspiring sports writer at the University of Missouri School of Journalism just shy of a decade ago, veteran newspaper professionals frowned at his decision to minor in new media technology. They even called him foolish. Those industry veterans said he should supplement the journalism degree with classes in political science, business or philosophy.

Stupp didn’t listen — and he is forever thankful. In that new media technology minor, Stupp learned to master Photoshop, how to produce Web videos, design and publish Web sites, manage digital photography, and create and animate 3-D images and videos. “When I left school with a journalism degree, I was so versatile, it led to many great opportunities,” said Stupp. Opportunities that 20 years ago — in some cases, even 10 years ago — didn’t even exist.

Now 30, Stupp has eight years of professional experience as a sports writer. His experience includes working as the creative services manager/publications editor for the Cincinnati Reds, as a freelance baseball writer for the San Francisco Chronicle and as author of two books: Tom Browning’s Tales from the Reds Dugout and Opening Day at Great American Ball Park. He currently is the editor-in-chief and co-owner of MMAJunkie.com and the MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) beat writer for the Dayton Daily News in Dayton, Ohio.

While technology has forever changed the media profession — and the career opportunities for people like Stupp – there are still some old school rules to live by for those aspiring sports writers.

Have realistic expectations

Don’t get into sports writing to become friends with the athletes, to get up close and personal with those you cover and write about, or to only cover the Super Bowl, World Series or NBA Finals. While a four-year journalism degree is the best way to get into the profession, internships and real-life experience through a school newspaper, a part-time or full-time opportunity with local dailies or weeklies, or through online media outlets can give you the experience editors crave. Most of all you have to enjoy writing, says Bryan Zollman, 35, co-publisher and news and sports editor for the Sauk Centre Herald in the northwest Minnesota. He covers local sports, with an emphasis on high school sports.

“Chances are when you start out, you will be driving to two or three games a night, catching tidbits here and there, getting a photo here or there,” says Zollman. “It is not an easy job. It can be lots of fun if you love to write about sports. But you have to love to write.”

“Start small. Cover local sports. Nothing should [be] beneath you doing this. A game is a game and a story is a story, no matter where it takes place.”

John Theriault, 40, of Glendale, Ariz., is a freelance sports writer who has 20 years of experience in the profession and has worked at the Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times and Chicago Daily Herald during his career. Theriault says starting out a weekly newspaper, where you are required to be a jack-of-all trades, is a great training ground.

“I can’t emphasize [it] enough: Start small,” says Theriault. “Cover local sports. Nothing should [be] beneath you doing this. I have covered events from little league baseball up through the professional ranks. A game is a game and a story is a story, no matter where it takes place. Becoming a sports writer to get close to the action and be starstruck is the wrong reason. Be a sports writer because you love sports and love to tell a story.”

Find a mentor
Seek out a mentor who can guide you in this business. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a sports writer, either. You can learn from anyone and everyone. While interning for the Dayton Daily News, Stupp said he had a great editor who taught him a lot, was really patient and explained things well. But he also became friends with Mike Wagner, a business reporter for the paper.

“He taught me the tips and tricks and kosher shortcuts that made me even more productive and in the know, and it also made me feel more comfortable and at ease in the newsroom,” says Stupp, who says it’s important not to shy away from asking the veterans if you can shadow them.

Stupp continued: “I thought I wanted to be a business or general features reporter for quite a while, but when Hal McCoy, a longtime Cincinnati Reds beat writer and Baseball Hall of Fame writer, took me to a Reds game, I got to see a legend in action. He’s a big reason I sought a job with the Reds and decided to focus on sports writing.”

Develop new technology skills
It’s important to practice and fine-tune your writing skills, but understanding technology opens numerous avenues. Many newspaper editors get to that position because they can design and lay out pages — either online or in print. Understand digital photography, learn computers and the Web and popular software programs such as Photoshop, Illustrated, InDesign, Flash, Dreamweaver and others. It may not be a day-to-day part of your job, but having the versatility can open a lot of doors, says Stupp.

Don’t confuse sports writing with blogging
A key detail to remember as a sports writer is that your job is to report the facts of the game or event. That’s where many of today’s bloggers or online reports damage their reputation — and the reputation of sports writers. Traditional principles and ethics will always reign supreme, says Stupp. MMAjunkie.com has become a content partner with Yahoo! Sports thanks to the integrity and professionalism of the site.

“With MMAjunkie.com, I think we got ahead quickly and built a massive audience because we approached our news coverage as journalists, not bloggers or fans,” says Stupp. “Once we made that conscious decision to get out of blog mode, we really took off. There’s nothing wrong with blogging, but too many people use it as a cop-out not to do their own reporting or fact-checking. It’s just recycling other people’s work. The good bloggers take the extra step and do some original work. Protect your integrity at all costs, and separate yourself from those who don’t. Since I started my own company, I’ve had to let go a few people who didn’t value our integrity.”

Be prepared to work long hours

Working nights, weekends and holidays can be tough for those trying to raise a family. Zollman has two kids and a third on the way. He admits, the lifestyle is wearing on him. “After a while, especially once you have a family, the nights get long and going to that wrestling match on a Tuesday night in the middle of January when your favorite TV show is on becomes a drag,” he says. “I’m trying to get out of covering sports and into the news end of things, but because newspapers are cutting back, I am juggling both duties, which makes for long hours.”

Reap the rewards
When it’s all said and done, there is satisfaction for a job well done, especially at the youth and high school level. “Having been an athlete, I have been where these kids have been and those are some of my greatest memories,” says Zollman. “It’s rewarding to know that you are witnessing these memories and helping preserve for them for years to come because rest assured, your articles are being clipped and saved every week.

Theriault agreed: “Hearing ‘That was a great story’ from a player, coach or parent is the ultimate reward,” he says. “I have people that I covered 15 years prior, and they still have articles that I wrote. Remember, your writings are not just for your portfolio but also for someone’s personal scrapbook.”

Six tips for aspiring sports writers:

1. Be flexible. You must be a night person: You will be working many nights and weekends — that’s when the games take place.
2. Learn AP style. “Study it, learn it, know it,” says Zollman. “It will make your job much easier, and you will be much more efficient.”
3. Diversify your skill set. Learn photography and new technology skills. “Writing is important, but so is photography — learn how to take photos to make yourself more versatile and coveted,” says Zollman.
4. Don’t play favorites. Girls’ cross country is just as important as football. If you don’t want your phone to ring off the hook or your editor to ask you why he received a call to cancel a subscription because you are giving all the ink to the football team, and not the cross country team, write for a large audience, says Zollman.
5. Have some thick skin. Don’t be afraid to be criticized. Not everyone will agree with your writing.
6. Practice makes perfect. Sit down and watch a game from start to finish. When it’s done, listen to the post-game interviews and write a 500-1,000 word recap, and then read online newspaper and Web site reports of the same game. Compare your stories to the professionals covering it.

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Matt Krumrie is a freelance writer and communications professional.

How does your personality relate to what type of job is best for you? How does the psychological makeup of a person translate to professional choice? In the media realm, whether you are in editorial, marketing, publishing, public relations, film, or TV, personality is everything. Finding out the connection between your personality and profession can help you gain greater insight into the types of careers that are best suited for you.

Think about these questions: Do you make decisions based on facts or intuition? Are you innovative or pragmatic? Are you introverted or extroverted?

Ira S. Wolfe, president of Success Performance Solutions and an expert on what makes a good employee-employer fit, uses various methods to assess personality. One such assessment tool is called DISC, which stands for how Direct an individual is with solving problems; how much energy he/she puts into Influencing other people; how energized he/she is when working at a Steady pace and how Conscientious he/she is at following procedures.

“A good personality fit drives successful employee performance,” says Wolfe. “A good job fit is the equivalent to having a top-performing engine in a car.”

Identify your inner inclinations
You’ve heard of the terms introverted and extroverted, but what do they really mean? In general, introverts are stimulated by the inner world of the mind. Because introverts enjoy thinking and analyzing their thoughts and feelings, they tend to be stimulated by nonverbal communication and work well independently. Conversely, people who are more extroverted tend to become easily bored when alone, but feel energized and charged by outside stimuli. Since they are stimulated by their environment and by others, these individuals prefer more communicative interaction, such press events, business meetings and gatherings.

According to Wolfe, “Freelance writers, for example, are more introverted. I’ve seen that creative types, in general, tend to be introverts. They have an idea and work through it themselves. They take time to factor and analyze decisions.”

Another area of consideration that hiring managers analyze is people who are structured and practical versus people who are impulsive and ideas-oriented. On the impulsive side, Wolfe says professions for these individuals include entrepreneurs, as well as those in the areas of advertising, PR and media relations. “They are creative, plus they are successful because are more of your risk-taker types.”

In today’s world, traditional office structures, particularly for many media professionals, have expanded into the realm of the virtual office. With that said, some people are better equipped to work remotely. What personality types are better suited? Wolfe believes that people who are structured, results-oriented and disciplined would be a good fit for remote positions. In contrast, “passionately extroverted types,” as Wolfe describes them, would not have enough stimulation to work from home.

Breaking down some of the media fields, here’s a look at some media positions and the personalities best suited for them:

Public relations is more suitable for an extrovert: The main premise of this field is for individuals who are comfortable in crowds, speaking to strangers and thinking on their feet. Similarly, in the sales and advertising field, a typical personality would be someone who is curious, an information gatherer, quick at making decisions, and results-oriented.

In the area of marketing and Web development, these professions are fitting for individuals who are innovative, open-minded, highly motivated and risk takers.

Most of the individuals in the field of writing are introverted. They work well independently and also have the creative insight to develop story ideas and carry them through to fruition.

Propel your professional life with your personality
According to a study conducted by the Recruiting Roundtable, only 50 percent of all new hires are the right fit for their jobs. Only 29 percent acquire talent that is a good fit for the organization. So, how does personality type pertain to professions? It can be broken down into three categories:

Category A — Introverts: These individuals tend to enjoy working well independently, are self-reflective, and like spending time alone. Freelance writing, screenwriting, Web design, graphic design, production, and copy editing are some great options for these types of individuals. Often, these professional types prefer to play a behind the scenes role. Think of famed filmmaker/producer/director, Alfred Hitchcock: He had an intense curiosity for filmmaking and spent 80 years of his life doing what he loved. He immersed himself in every aspect of the craft and had a meticulous attention to detail. He also, from a personality standpoint, was definitely more introspective; hence his creation of some intense psychological thrillers.

Category B — Middle of the road: Most likely, these types of people enjoy a quiet evening at home as much as time out in the limelight. Careers for these individuals could include editorial jobs, such as columnists, publishers, reporters, and film and television positions, as well as photographers. Think Sarah Jessica Parker’s character, Carrie Bradshaw, from Sex and the City: She frequents local coffee shops during the day writing her column and spends her evening at the trendiest hot spots dining and clubbing to have tales to tell.

Category C — Extroverts: These people are charming and gregarious. Most of these types are great in the professions of PR, publicity, marketing, advertising and sales. Being out in the public, immersed in the action, at the forefront of the comings and goings on the town, is what these personality types thrive upon. Any Entourage fans out there? Jeremy Piven’s character, Ari Gold, is a perfect Category C example. He’s a mover and a shaker. He talks the talk and walks the walk. He’s great at multitasking, putting out fires, working under pressure, stroking egos and sugarcoating the worst of the worst and the best of the best.

Find your perfect fit
Given everything you now know about personality and profession, is your career choice the perfect fit? In talking to some media professionals, there was a strong correlation between their personalities and their chosen vocation. Find out more about these media professionals who found a fitting vocation for their hidden Hitchcock, curious Carrie or animated Ari.

As a corporate speech trainer in NY, Stephanie Grayson-Zane is a prime example of how one’s personality can shape one’s professional choice. Whether prepping for media appearances, helping clients pitch products, books, or services, or preparing for an award-winning speech, Grayson-Zane fits into a Category B, Carrie-type personality. She is creative, communicative and also a bit reserved, depending on the situation.

With a MA in communication sciences, Grayson-Zane took her friendly personality and enjoyment for listening to others and turned it into a career as a corporate speech/media trainer. In this capacity, she makes corporate communication and media events more interesting and thereby more effective.

“My role is to help clients connect and communicate more effectively with their audience,” says Grayson-Zane. “I believe that good storytelling shouldn’t be limited to theater and creative pursuits, but also has an important role in the workplace and in the business world, in general.”

For account director Todd Fraser of LA-based INK, Inc., Public Relations, personality is his business. As an athlete-turned-actor-turned-PR guru, how do these roles encapsulate Fraser’s personality?

“As an athlete, you practice to react without thinking. As an actor, you make a character as believable as possible. As a publicist, you immerse yourself in your clients’ work,” says Fraser. The one commonality in all of Fraser’s roles is flexibility and the ability to change according to the specified role. It’s apparent that Fraser is highly competitive, focused and driven. Ari Gold, watch out.

“I’ve always responded to the ‘chase’ and have gravitated toward professions that are results-oriented and constantly changing,” says Fraser.

The field of public relations is a suitable career path for an extrovert personality, as being a people-person is a large portion of this profession. In addition, working well independently, acting as part-writer, part-salesperson and part-psychologist are essential ingredients for a full-fledged PR professional.

A big factor, according to Fraser, is the ability to stay encouraged and positive, after countless times of rejection. “Remember that all the passes make the successes that much sweeter.”

Editor-in-chief of Home Entertainment Magazine Geoffrey Morrison certainly has the inner Hitchcock genius within. His love for writing and entertaining were blended together for a perfect fit with a magazine dedicated to the senses. Home Entertainment Magazine bills itself as ‘featuring the finest in audio/video technology and design.’

Here’s the interesting spin about Morrison: although he loves entertaining, he isn’t necessarily outgoing. With his personality type being more of an introvert, he actually needed to adjust and adapt to fit the job. “This job forces me to do something that, in my daily life, I wouldn’t do,” he says. And, being adaptable is something that is essential as an editor.

Morrison started his professional studies in college, majoring in music. He moved on to doing audio for movies. Through all of it, however, he was a writer. “Getting people to pay me to write was amazing,” he says. “Having people read what I wrote and (hopefully) be entertained by it, is still fantastic.”

For new, aspiring writers, Morrison encourages them to find their voice. “If you have a unique voice, chances are you’ll be able to find an audience.” Morrison knows this firsthand: In the home entertainment world, he continues to walk the walk and write the talk.

Whether you are an introvert, extrovert, the next aspiring screenwriter, PR guru, columnist, editor or corporate media trainer, remember this: Be who you are and love what you do. At the end of the day, follow your personality and your professional passion is sure to follow.

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Michelle Paquette, MA, is the owner/president of All Ways Consulting, an LA-based company, offering business consulting and strategic planning to members of the media industry. She is also a freelance writer.

It is always challenging for freelancers to attract the attention of editors at publications they wish to write for, but economic conditions do make a difference. Not only have many publications found their budgets slashed due to declining advertising revenues, but literally hundreds of journalists have been laid off and have joined the masses of freelancers already competing for limited work. Now more than ever, it pays to get it right when pitching to or working with editors.

Here are a number of tips — and a few pet peeves — from those in the trenches.

Research the target title

Editors can tell — and are supremely offended — when you don’t take the time to read their guidelines or their publications. “Is it too much to ask for someone to read our guidelines before sending an off-target pitch?” asks Mike Drummond, editor-in-chief of Inventors Digest and Possible magazines. “Freelancers who fail to research our submission guidelines demonstrate intellectual indolence and can’t be trusted to do quality reporting,” he says.

Barbara Nellis is features editor for The Rotarian and former editor at Playboy, where she worked for more than 30 years. “I used to hate it when freelancers would call up looking for work and then admit they hadn’t looked at the magazine,” she says, and adds: “They never got work.”

“I’ve been a magazine and newspaper editor for nine years now and the one complaint that has remained consistent is freelancers pitching blindly,” says Wendy Burt-Thomas, who is both an author and editor. She also admits: “I can tell you that I’m guilty as charged — I once sent a parenting article to a 50-plus magazine!”

She doesn’t recommend that approach to others. What she does recommend is taking the time to review the publication and guidelines and then making reference to what you’ve learned in your query. For instance, “I enjoyed your January piece on workouts for the brain.” Or: “As per your guidelines for the Full Circle section, this 800-word piece…”

“The more editors can see your piece fitting into their publications, the more likely you are to get an assignment,” she says. “Show them that you’ve read the publication and that you know just where your article should go.”

“I promise that we care much more about how you say things than what you are saying. Show me something new, unique, and you.”

Drummond agrees and shares an example of a good pitch he recently received. “A writer noticed on our sister Web forum a dust-up about getting your invention on The Tonight Show. Was this good or bad publicity? Some inventor-entrepreneurs thought the show mocked inventors and played to stereotypes; others thought exposure before millions was priceless. The writer was able to seize that tension, mix in a little Rod Blagojevich context, and deliver a compelling piece challenging the axiom that ‘any publicity is good publicity’,” he says.

Closely related to doing your homework on the publication or media outlet is understanding the audience, says Linda Carlson, marketing and media relations director at Parenting Press. This, she says, can be easily accomplished. “Any publication that accepts advertising will have a media kit, and that describes who receives the publication,” she says. “In our market, for example, there’s a big difference between a preschool classroom teacher and the mental health therapist who provides family counseling,” she notes.

Tailor your pitch

A closely related pet peeve that is universally shared by editors is receiving pitches that are off the mark and too generic. Specificity counts.

Lauren Herskovic is managing editor of CollegeCandy.com, an online magazine for college women, by college women. When you take the time to do things right, it shows, says Herskovic. “I promise that we care much more about how you say things than what you are saying,” she says. “Boring and generic cover letters won’t get very far with me. I know you’re just copying and pasting that sucker into 400 emails. Show me something new, unique and you,” she advises.

“If you really want to freelance somewhere, poke around the publication, see what sorts of things they write about — and the style they write in — and whip up something specifically for them,” she says. “Yes, it takes a lot of extra time, but it will look great to the editor.”

The same can be said for the samples you send. Make them relevant and specific to the publication you’re hoping to work with. Julie Trelstad, founder/owner of Plain White Press, LLC, in White Plains, N.Y., says, “I’d like to see that you’ve done work in my genre,” adding that she only wants to see samples of similar work — not generic samples. Nellis agrees. “Don’t send a million clips. Tailor two or three to the kind of stories the magazine you’re pitching might be interested in,” she advises. And, she adds: “Send a cover letter with no more than two ideas at a time, if you’re sending ideas. No one has time to plow through more than that.”

Proofread your work

Amazingly, editors say that it is far too common for them to receive queries from writer-wannabes that contain errors ranging from misspelled words to grammar problems to — ugh! — incorrect publication titles or editors’ names.

“I can’t tell you how many cover letters I get that have blatant spelling, grammar and usage errors,” says Herskovic. “I am the one copy editing most of the work that goes on the site, so I’m not going to hire someone whose work is going to take me 30 extra minutes to edit,” she says.

Melissa Garrett is editor for the parenting Webzine Root & Sprout. “My given name is Melissa, but I edit and write using the name Lis,” says Garrett. “I can’t tell you how often people address emails to me as ‘Lisa’.” What’s worse, she says, is “when we develop rapport and they continue to use the wrong name, even though I’ve highlighted it for their benefit.”

But, she cautions on the flip side, be careful about pointing out your editors’ errors. After recently recruiting four new independent contractors, she wrote back to applicants who weren’t selected, citing reasons including typos, not following directions, etc. Most of the rejected applicants responded with a “thank you” for being considered, but one memorable applicant took a different approach. She wrote back to Garrett: “You made a typo. It happens.”

“Yes, even editors make typos,” says Garrett. “But guess what? I will never consider that writer for a position now,” she says. “I don’t know if she was trying to prove how astute she was in discovering my one typo, but her email came off sounding very condescending.”

Be persistent

Editors are busy these days, and they’re in agreement on one important fact freelancers need to keep in mind: Don’t just try once and give up. Chances are if you don’t hear back soon, it’s more because these editors are swamped than because they’re not interested. It pays to follow up.

Follow-up is imperative, says Dina Santorelli, editor and publisher of WHY Magazine, an online publication for people who work from home. “Oftentimes we receive a query that we think is fantastic, but it can slip through the cracks because of the number of queries we receive. A simple follow-up email or call — perhaps a month after the initial query — can ensure that that does not happen.”

Trelstad agrees. “If I don’t hire you right away, follow up!,” says Trelstad. “I’ve had many good freelancers I’ve wanted to try out, but didn’t have a job for. If you don’t stay top of mind, I’ll likely call whoever contacted me most recently.”

Use your connections to establish relationships

As they say, sometimes in addition to what you know, who you know can make a difference. Trelstad says that she relies on personal references from other publishing professionals. “Ask your current clients to introduce you to me,” she suggests. “You can find out if I know someone you know by checking me out on LinkedIn,” she says.

Finally, don’t be afraid to maintain relationships by staying in touch. It’s a good idea to keep your name in front of the editors you want to work with, as well as those you’ve already worked with. As the editors admit, even the best freelancers can be easily “out of sight and out of mind.”

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Lin Grensing-Pophal is a freelance business journalist and independent marketing communication consultant.