As 2024 skittered to a close, the trend on LinkedIn was to share a review of your year: professional accomplishments, highlights, and milestones. I’ve always felt icky promoting myself, yet I can see why reflecting on the past year is helpful. Nicola Knobel sums it up well, writing: “While some might think it’s cringy to write a year in review, I’ve found it to be an incredibly rewarding exercise.”
With a bit of prodding from a trusted writer colleague, I threw together a post summarizing my 2024 writing projects. My post received some likes and nice comments. But in comparison to past years, the numbers were underwhelming: 5 original articles in various national publications, 11 educational articles for CommonLit, and 26 reprint publications.
For some successful freelance writers, that’s an average month or two of work — not a year.
Wait, Here’s the Disclaimer
One reason I pitched and wrote fewer articles in 2024 was that I was focused on querying literary agents and small publishers for my YA dystopian manuscript. The idea for a story about a girl with an unusual ability to tolerate heat had been marinating since November 2018. That month, I tried my own version of NaNoWriMo, penning a few hundred words each day about Elli, her family, and how they survive in a world where extreme heat has changed everything. Six years, 63,000 words, and dozens of revisions later, I have a solid story with a beginning, middle, and end. Whether it merits publication via the traditional route remains to be seen, but I’m far from giving up.
Even with the time I spent honing and submitting my manuscript, I know I could have pitched more articles than I did. So when looked at my year in review post, I didn’t feel the glow that I imagine many writers feel when wrapping up their year. All I saw was a thin and hollow body of work.
Measuring Success
A lifetime ago, there was a stressed-out high schooler in my hometown who lamented the way college admissions officers only seemed to care about her SAT scores and GPA. “All I am is the sum of my numbers,” she said.
Lately I’ve been replaying those words in my mind. Freelancers don’t get traditional performance reviews, so looking at our numbers is a simple way to evaluate our success. How many stories did we pitch this year? How many got published? At what rate per word?
Still, I can’t be too upset. I must admit that I’ve soured on the pitching game, and my numbers reflect that. Blame the AI “authors” that are writing stories, the uptick in media layoffs, or the way smartphones and news apps have supplanted actual, physical newspapers. None of those external factors mattered as much as the fact that I just didn’t want to hustle.
Yes, I pitched less and I can only point to myself as the reason.
But when I did write stories, I immersed myself in the process just as I always have. I loved connecting with experts for reported pieces. It was a satisfying challenge to distill their vast knowledge down to fit each story’s parameters. And I took pride in crafting personal essays that offered a glimpse of my inner world. Now that both of my children are teenagers, I err toward being ridiculously careful and intentional when I write any content about parenting. Protecting their privacy while keeping the focus on my own journey is essential. I was happy that my 15-year-old approved this piece about what I learned from her first job.
This, perhaps, is the takeaway: The numbers do matter, but the content — and making sure it’s high-quality, engaging, and meaningful — matters more.
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