Hello from the Writing Attic!

Where last night we had an old-fashioned Lit Mag League meeting to discuss the Northwest Review and even enjoyed a special visit from the editor himself, S. Tremaine Nelson.

For those who don’t know, Lit Mag League is a literary journal reading club held in conjunction with The Porch here in Nashville. We pick a journal to read, then get together, drink wine, eat cheese, and talk about the issue, and we usually enjoy a visit with the journal’s editor or one of the writers published in the issue. All told, it’s pretty good time. And considering this was our first in-person meeting since the start of the pandemic, it was even more refreshing.

Particularly refreshing was to hear from the editor, Steve Nelson. This guy has boundless energy for lit journals and is keen on finding those new voices and getting them heard. He has a ton of love and respect for the place of the lit journal in a new writer’s life, made clear by the quote on the back of the most recent issue: “That first publication meant the world to me.” — George Saunders. Yep, Northwest Review was the first journal to ever publish George Saunders. And it’s still in existence and it’s run by someone who fully understands that gravity of that legacy.

So often I hear from writers who wonder what is the point of publishing in lit journals… they don’t pay, they’re under-read, etc., etc. But even with the old storied publications changing (Tin House), with journals going digital (Natural Bridge), with institutional beasts downsizing or being eliminated completely (The Believer), it’s important to remember what we really lose when we lose a great lit journal. And what we lose is the place and the space for new writers to test their limits, to be discovered by the people who know just where to look (and it’s not Twitter), to get that boost of confidence they need in order to continue on to career that previously may not have seemed possible. For George Saunders, it was Northwest Review. For Jesmyn Ward, it was A Public Space. For JD Salinger and Carson McCullers, it was Story.

Never underestimate the power of a great lit mag run by a passionate and supportive handful of editors. They truly do make the literary world go round. And if you want to join in the next Lit Mag League meet-up with The Porch, sign up for their newsletter here to know when all the new happenings hit the schedule.

For now, let’s gossip.

Pitch Perfect: “A Bakery in La Grange Seeks an Apprentice to Continue Its 75-Year Legacy” for Texas Monthly

I’ve got a slew of freelance pieces coming out in the next few weeks so I figure I might as well continue on the Pitch Perfect path for you all. Also, I’l be teaching a one-day class in the summer for The Porch on how to pitch your personal essay for paid publication. So if you like what you see here, I hope you’ll consider tossing in the dollars to take the class. I’ll let you know when it’s up!

Here’s how it went down:

I’ve always wanted to make my way into Texas Monthly. I’ve pitched them several times to no avail, but I’ve kept on trying. Sometimes you crack a nut with a well-timed pitch; sometimes your work elsewhere is what pays dividends.

When my usual editor, Kimya Kavehkar, with Texas Highways announced she was heading over to Texas Monthly, I did a happy dance. I did an even happier dance when she ended up in my inbox asking me for pitches for the mag.

Here’s the thing: when you pitch well, write well, and deliver on time, editors start to really like you. They know they can count on you for good work. And they know you’re the person to call when they’re in need… say, when they’ve moved to a new publication and need to seed their editorial calendars with peak content.

So when Kimya told me the world was my oyster as far as Texas-based food and drink content went, I hit her up with an old favorite from home that I knew I wanted to immortalize.

The Pitch:

Hey Kimya,

It was so good to grab coffee this weekend! And I hope the Dua Lipa concert was amazing.

Just want to reiterate how much I enjoyed catching up with you and how thankful I am to have the opportunity to work with you again on some stories. I've started reaching out to some sources to see what shakes loose on the rural food traditions/culture end.

Meanwhile, you mentioned being interested in some restaurant profiles... One place that is near and dear to my heart and that I've wanted to write about for quite some time now is Lukas Bakery in La Grange, Texas.

It's a Czech bakery that has been owned and operated by the Lukas family since 1947. When I say this place is old school, I mean it is old school. They open at 5 am each morning and are usually sold out of the best kolaches and pigs by eight because all the early shift workers raid the place for breakfast. I'd wager they haven't updated the look of the bakery since they opened in '47. which means it's a blast from the past just to walk in the front door. People can talk all they want about West, Weikel's, and Hruska's but for me it's Lukas or bust when it comes to pig-in-a-blankets (klobasniky).

I live in fear of the day my mom calls me to tell me they're closing up shop for good but it hasn't happened yet (knocks on wood.) I would love to profile this family bakery before it's too late. They are a serious Czech gem and the place lends itself pretty well to photography.

Let me know what you think!

Timeline:

I sent this pitch on Tuesday, February 15. I followed up on Tuesday, February 22. (“Checking in on this pitch. I sent it before I realized you were actually back from vacation and wanted to make sure it didn't fall through the cracks.Thank you!”) She emailed back the next day saying she was interested and wanted to know if the bakery was on board. I checked with the bakery, got them to agree to the profile, let Kimya know, and she gave me a contract, deadline, and price.

Writing/Editing Process:

Writing a restaurant profile for a restaurant that is in a different state than you’re in is a tricky one. I was familiar with Lukas because I grew up with it and could still remember the taste of all the baked goods, the smells, all of it. But still, once the pitch was accepted and she gave me a deadline to hand it in by the end of the next week… I realized I had a doozy on my hands.

Luckily, Jaime, the baker’s daughter, was willing to Zoom with me for the interview. I could see Larry, the baker, clearly, could hear the ambient sounds, and then they took their time walking the laptop around the bakery to show me every little thing. It truly felt like being in the room with them. (And yes, I did ask what it smelled like… It smelled like flour.)

Because I loved my subjects so much and there were so many rich stories to include, I found myself well over the word count that Kimya suggested. She wanted 1,000 words. I gave her 1,800. I don’t normally go way over word count like that (standard is to go no more then 10% over, which would have been 1,100) but we know each other, we trust each other, and I was frank with her and said I wasn’t sure what to cut and let her take the wheel. She cut it right back to 1,000 and while I knew what was missing in it, it still read just fine (and likely much better.)

Pay: .50/word at 1037 words = $518.50

Read it here.

Must-Read:

This month’s Must Read is a shoutout to another fellow Texas Highways/Texas Monthly writer—Sarah Hepola.

“The Things I’m Afraid to Write About” by Sarah Hepola for Atlantic — I loved this piece for its honesty and for saying the scary thing, which is that it’s always been scary to be a writer out in the world but it’s become increasingly more terrifying to be a writer in this particular world that implores you to be beholden to the discourse. Again, I cannot stress enough how much my writing life has improved since I got off Facebook and especially Twitter.

“Back in 2015, I was putting out my first book, and then I was promoting that book, and then I was struggling to write a second book, and I could not risk the personal and professional blowback that might accompany stepping into the wrong lane. I’d long considered myself a liberal and a feminist, but I’d grown terrified of being banished for views I considered reasonable, or at least worth discussing—but maybe, but what about, but actually. Every day, I scrolled the endless river of outrage and all-caps, watching people express similar views to mine only to be pounced upon. Once-celebrated writers were being publicly rebranded as ghoulish, pieces of trash, red-pilled. The unwritten rule of elite media tribes seemed to be this: You spout the company line, or you shut up. And that’s why, midway through a career built on speaking out, I shut up.”

Parting Shot

I went to Mexico last week. This is probably the best souvenir I’ve ever bought for myself.

! Access the Newsletter Archive !

One final word — it occurs to me that people new to the newsletter might like to be able to read past issues. All past issues of the newsletter are available here.