How long does it take to get a no? Or a yes?

Plus: The power of tribes. And Reactine.

Happy Friday everyone! And a special hello and thank you to my friend and subscriber, R, who inspired this week’s topic.

R reached out to ask a “Is this normal….” question. I love these! My answer, as it almost always is, was: “nope, not normal but common.”

In her case, an editor didn’t respond to her pitch. Then she happened to see him at an industry event where they chatted, she asked about her pitch, and he told her he’d follow up on it. You SO know where this is going, don’t you? She dutifully re-sent the pitch and…. Yep, you know it…. Crickets!

So is this normal? No. Let’s not normalize poor communication. But is it common and does it happen to me? ALL THE TIME! Editors are extremely busy and you never know what is happening behind the scenes at any given publication.

If this happened to me, would I pitch this editor again? Sure. I wouldn’t take their poor communication as a reflection on my pitching skills. But I’d also make note of this behavior because communication styles rarely radically change just because you land an assignment. Is the assignment financially worth the hassle? It depends. I want all my assignments to be high value in nature. That often means a high financial value but there are other contributing factors, like ease of communication. If it’s going to be sticky, that financial value better be way up there to balance things out.

This conversation with R reminded me of something I once heard an editor say at a conference years ago. They were asked how long it takes them to decide if they want a pitch. If it’s a yes, they know within a minute. If it’s a no, they know within two minutes. If it’s a maybe, they’ll never know. Interesting!

I don’t know if this applies to all editors but something about it resonates with me. When you know, you just know. Of course, there are all kinds of exceptions to this rule (some publications, for instance, discuss all pitches at a monthly staff meeting so responses are slow). But it begs the question of how do you move out of that “maybe” zone? I think the key lies in your routine pitch follow up. Haven’t heard back in a week or two? Send that short follow up email and tease a sentence or two that will help an editor make a decision. Maybe you could say something like “In my initial pitch, I shared that Farmer Bob will be one of my sources. I’m happy to report that I just had a tour of his farm and he gave me some great quotes about how climate change is affecting his strawberry crop”. If nothing else, you’re showing this editor that you’re a solid bet who does their research and if they don’t want this story, they’re primed to say yes for a future story.

But this isn’t really a story about how editors communicate or the parameters for getting a yes or no. This is about the power of having a tribe, of having people like R in your life, people you can send a message to and say “is this normal?”. I have a couple of these people in my writing life and they’re invaluable. We all need someone you can talk to, with no sense of competition or vagueness. You need truthful information. You need a second set of eyes. You need someone to tell you about rates or an editor’s vibe or the problems they had at a publication. These aren’t the kind of relationships you build overnight. I have one colleague, B, that I’ve been sharing sporadic back and forth emails for a few years. While we have a long history of honesty and helpfulness, we always start things off with “it’s totally okay if you’d rather not say”. It’s a give and take and it’s never an assumption.

So that is my advice for you this week. Who is in your industry information tribe? Is there anyone you can reach out to with a tip or lead? This field is only lonely if we let it.

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A special shout out to my husband, Ryan, who has seen me suffer with seasonal allergies today and advocated for me to call this week’s newsletter “mucus moments”. Thanks to the power of Reactine, I am getting the last laugh!

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And for all of you who get it, this is for you.

What you really need to know about pitching

Also: Do pitching courses really help?

If I could go back in time and give my younger freelance self some advice, I wouldn’t tell myself to travel more or buy a certain camera or chase a certain trend. It would be this: Pitch more. Pitch consistently. And don’t let rejection shut you down.

I didn’t pitch nearly enough in my early years. I didn’t have a system, I didn’t treat it like a priority, and I took every rejection personally. That combination held me back more than I realized at the time.

I know better now. Here’s what I learned the hard way:

1. Pitching Has to Be a Non-Negotiable Part of Your Week

These days, I pitch on Mondays. Not because Monday is the magic day (you’ll hear all kinds of theories: “Pitch on a Tuesday!” “Never send anything on a Friday!”). The truth is, the best day to pitch is the one you’ll actually stick with.

For me, making Monday my “pitching day” keeps things simple. It’s part of my routine. I don’t let myself push it to Tuesday… or next week… or never. And even when I don’t feel like it—and I rarely do—I still do it. That consistency pays off.

2. Rejections Are Brutal—But They’re Also Progress

So far this year, I’ve been rejected 55 times. It’s never fun. I still cringe when I see the “thanks, but no thanks” emails. But I’ve learned that a rejection is often the next best thing to a “yes.”

When an editor takes the time to personally say no, it usually means they like your writing and your idea. It’s just not the right fit right now. That kind of rejection isn’t a closed door—it’s a gentle nudge to keep going, keep pitching, and eventually find the right home for your story.

They don’t hate you. Your pitch isn’t embarrassing. They want you to place the piece—it’s just not going to be with them.

3. Courses Help—But Only If You Show Up

I’m a big fan of Write Like a Honey Badger school. It’s a solid program with courses on pitching, story development, and interviewing. But even the best resources can only take you so far.

The key is this: you must pitch regularly. No course, format, or template can replace consistent effort. Pitching is a craft. You get better by doing it—again and again. It’s awesome if a course helps you jumpstart that process but it all comes down to you.

My pitches today are very different than they were five or ten years ago. They’re sharper, tighter, more tailored. But guess what? Both versions—the old and the new—have landed me assignments. And both have been rejected. That’s just how it works.

4. A Good Pitch Makes the Editor’s Job Easier

That’s it. That’s the whole goal.

A good pitch is short, clear, and focused. It gives editors a reason to say yes quickly. It makes them look good to their bosses because the idea is timely, relevant, and well-thought-out. You’re not just tossing them a topic. You’re offering them a story: one that’s timely, compelling, and right for their readers. And it shows that you’re ready—you’ve done your research, you have a strong angle, and you’re a safe bet to deliver.

Pitching isn’t magic. It’s not about finding the perfect day or the perfect format. It’s about showing up again and again and learning to treat “no” as a step toward “yes.” I’ve often thought about crafting my own pitch template to share with readers—maybe one day it will happen! But I know from my own personal experience that it’s not about having the ideal template at hand. They can certainly be helpful if you’re feeling stuck but what’s a million times more important is that you develop your own voice, your own rhythm that lets you show editors that you got this.

So what are you going to pitch this week?

Yours,
Vanessa

Rethinking the wisdom of repurposing, with a side of celebration and grief.

Who else loved Clean Sweep on TLC?

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A friendly reminder that there’s no newsletter next week as it’s Canada Day and I’ll be camping. Pitching Power Hour will take place on Wednesday July 9th at 11:00 AM.

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In the earliest days of reality television, when it was a genuinely fascinating glimpse into someone else’s life and long before it became a byline for exploitative cheesiness, there was a TLC show called Clean Sweep.

Based on my memories, I could have sworn it was on the air for nearly a decade, when, in actuality, it had just two short seasons (14 episodes), debuting in 2003. Perhaps it was a hit on the rewatch circuit, as I recall many a delightful early Saturday mornings, watching it in the living room of our first home and badgering Ryan with organization projects based on what was happening in the show. Clean Sweep’s premise was simple. A host, a carpenter, and an organization specialist descended on the home of someone whose office, playroom, or basement was a hot mess. The host (Tava) would ask them how things got so bad (they never got around to properly unpacking after they moved in), the carpenter (Eric) would whip up a new bookshelf or toy chest, and the organizer (Peter) would make them haul everything out of the room and onto their front lawn, forcing them to divide all objects into keep, sell, and toss piles. There were tears. There were cliches. And there was always a picture-perfect early-aughts decorated room at the end.

Honestly, it was just so wholesome. Who doesn’t have a messy room? Who doesn’t feel like they’d finally have their life together if only they could just have a proper entertainment unit that also offered stealthy storage? I’ve had an abiding love for all things decluttering ever since.

However, there was one dark corner of my life which desperately needed a clean sweep of its own. My Google Drive was a deep mine of 12 years of business and writing files. They were all meticulously organized. Nothing was messy. But nothing was being used. Yet I was holding onto all of it in the hopes that I might one day practice what I preach and suddenly repurpose all that material into something helpful. Something valuable. Something that I could sell.

Don’t get me wrong. Making the most of your time and money is the key to freelance success. Getting just one story out of each interview isn’t the way to succeed in this industry. Recycling is gold. This fact was impressed upon me back in 2014. I can still picture the exact layout of the lecture hall at the TBEX Athens conference as I sat in on a presentation about repurposing content. Looking back, I think the point the speaker was trying to make was that you could turn those 20 Facebook posts about things to see in Rome into a cool blog post. Do it a couple of times for other Italian cities, and you’ve got yourself a mini e-book. Sound advice. Perfect advice. Alas, it’s been eating away at me ever since.

How much of a failure was I for never having done something similar? How much money did I leave on the table by never launching my own next thing? How much unnecessary anxiety did I add to my life, living with a to-do list that truly had no end, as there is no limit to how many times a piece of content can be recycled, upcycled, and repurposed. I wasn’t working smarter! I was working harder, writing new blog posts like a peasant when I could have just repurposed all those conference notes, presentation notes, and interview notes. I was a sucker. I was an amateur. I. WAS. TIRED.

Lo and behold, last week, some eleven years after Athens, I found myself with a free afternoon, and I started working on the task I had put on my agenda a hundred times before but never actually executed. I began to repurpose some things. Old articles that once appeared on now-shuttered sites were republished as blog posts. Others got the addition of a fresh pitch, ready to be sent back out into the publishing world. Honestly, it was a rush. I’M DOING IT, my brain screamed. I’M GETTING THROUGH THE LIST. I was uploading some old presentation material into ChatGPT to generate something, anything that would be helpful, when I realized that this wasn’t exhilarating. It sucked. It actually really sucked.

Was I really going to hold myself to such a high standard that I refused to have anything in my life that wasn’t doing double or triple duty? Was I really going to tell my coaching clients that it is absolutely okay to have stories that you move past and never look to again while telling myself that I was a failure if I didn’t find a way to reuse the content of my decade-old Instagram presentation? What story was I missing out on RIGHT NOW while I was trying to rejig a 2022 piece on travel spots you can see only at low tide? (Spoiler: Sounds exciting. It’s not.) Instead of luxuriating in the joy that comes from passionately putting together a presentation for a group I care about, I was telling myself that I must be a surgeon, meticulously carving up bits from old slide shows, when I was supposed to be an artist.

And so I culled. I decluttered. I gave Google Drive a clean sweep that Tava, Eric, and Peter would be proud of. Along the way, I gave myself permission to do two things I had never really done before: Celebrate and grieve. I never really celebrated the fact that I LAUNCHED A BUSINESS back in 2014. It was called Sculpt Social. It provided social media coaching and consulting services. I was incredibly good at it. That was me! I did that! Sculpt Social represented a whole lot of those files in my Google Drive. Alas, it was really tough to make a lot of money from it, especially when I realized that social media didn’t always align with my values or interests. I let it wind down naturally and ‘officially’ closed it in 2021 after seven years of operations. Do you know how many businesses don’t make it six months, let alone seven years? Neither do I, but I bet it’s a lot. I believe I posted briefly about my decision online and had a glass of wine on the porch, but that was it. No time to celebrate that I did a really, really hard and brave thing. No time to celebrate that I was good at it, and while I didn’t become a millionaire, I made some money and kept my head above water. No time to grieve the fact that I didn’t turn out quite as I expected or that I wasn’t selling the rights to some tech billionaire, or that I probably spent way too many Friday nights glued to my computer (for work) instead of being glued to my laptop (for fun).

So that’s what I’m doing with you all here. Celebrating, grieving, and giving myself permission to clean sweep and move on.

A little cafe I really admired recently closed, much to the dismay of its fans. I visited on their second-to-last day of operations and saw that their walls were covered in colourful hearts, on which patrons had written something they loved about it. I didn’t make a contribution because my own heart was busy processing what a brilliant idea this was —to wrap both celebration and grief into one package. It also reminded me that it was okay to keep a few pieces of ephemera from the business I once owned. A few files will survive my own clean sweep as mementos from a bygone time. I don’t have to treat them as inventory that I have to move at all costs, a clearinghouse of things that didn’t work out and are now going cheap in the sales. Clean Sweep always ends with the homeowners looking towards the future, and that’s a lesson I’ll apply as well. No more looking back. We aren’t going that way.

Happy summer everyone!

Vanessa

Your mid-year review and reflection guide

Fill your freelance first aid it, cull drudgery tasks, and be more profitable in Q3

Happy Summer Solstice, friends!

I hope you all have some time outside to celebrate nature today.

I also hope you’re able to take some time to review not just the past business quarter but also the first half of the year. This is the perfect time to reflect on your 2025 goals, the progress you’ve made, the efforts you need to start, and maybe even the goals you now realize that you must drop and reframe into something that better serves you.

With this in mind, I have the following guide for you. I highly recommend going through it with a slice of cake by your side.

Step 1: Remember Your Wins

We’re wired to forget the good stuff and fixate on what went wrong. So let’s flip that script.

• What are 3 things you’ve done well in the first half of the year?

• What did you handle with courage, even if it wasn’t easy?

• What’s one thing you didn’t think you could do—but you did?
  

Write them down. You’re doing better than you think.

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Step 2: Audit Your Workload – The 4Ds

Let’s talk about what you actually did.

Break your work down into four categories:

1. Drudgery: Tasks that drain you
2. Distractions: Tasks you love but don’t pay
3. Disinterest: Tasks that pay but feel flat
4. Desire: Work that lights you up and brings in revenue. This is the place where passion, proficiency, and profits collide!

Which category took up the most time last quarter? The last two quarters? What do you want more of? What needs to go? Is there something you can eliminate entirely from the drudgery category (I’ve used this category as my motivation to completely shut down social media channels! Trust me, a lot of things in this category seem non-negotiable but as it turns out, you can just… not do a lot of things and get away with it). Can the distractions be moved to your personal time to avoid them cutting into your work day? Can you build in rewards to make those disinterested tasks a bit more motivating?

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Step 3: Refill Your Freelancer First Aid Kit

When things get tough, what helps you bounce back?

☐ A daily walk?
☐ Time in nature or at a gallery?
☐ Talking with friends who “get it”?
☐ Solo time with a notebook and no deadlines?

Write down 2–3 “first aid” items. Post them where you’ll see them.

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Step 4: Quick Financial Reflection

Let’s keep this honest and gentle.

• What kind of work sold best in Q2? Did it differ from Q1?

• What was the most profitable?

• What was the hardest to sell?

• What was the easiest to sell?

• Are you paying yourself regularly?
  

Based on that, will you shift anything for Q3?

• Maybe you double down on what sells easiest.

• Maybe you finally let go of the gig that drains you.

• Maybe you raise your rates—or start planning to.

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Step 5: Look Ahead

Time to move forward with intention.

• What do you want to do more of in Q3?

• What do you want to do less of?

• What’s something new you want to start?

• What’s something you’re not quite ready for—but want to explore?
  

Write out your top 3 goals for Q3, then add:

• One concrete step for each goal

• One date you’ll block off in your calendar for implementation

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You Made It!

That’s your mid-year freelance reset. No spreadsheets, no guilt—just thoughtful reflection and honest planning.

You’re not behind. You’re building something.
You’ve done more than you think.
And the best stuff? It’s still ahead.

Let’s make the second half of the year lighter, brighter, and more aligned with the work (and life) you really want.

– Vanessa