Becoming less ghostly (MY WRITING JOURNEY)

I would like to take a moment to congratulate myself. This week, I signed contracts for two (count ‘em, two) articles commissioned by a major publication.

One, I pitched to an editor from a call-out on Facebook, and she responded the next day. Eek! The other? An editor I previously worked with reached out to me and asked if I wanted to write an article. EEEK!!!

These are huge wins. Getting any article commissioned and published is a big deal to a writer… and especially to a writer like me who:

1. Didn’t even know I was a writer until I started writing professionally as an experiment
2. Only wrote as a ~ghost~ until recently

I understand that this raises questions like, How do ghosts write? Allow me to unpack it.

My journey into writing

During the pandemic, I was working for my family’s daycare business. There’s a lot to say about it, but let’s just leave it at: it was tough, I burned out, and I quit without a real plan, only knowing I needed a break. I took a few months to consider what I wanted to do with my life and career, and, feeling like I couldn’t return to a “normal” 9-5 job for a while, did what anyone would do: Googled how to make money online.

A YouTube rabbit hole led me into the world of freelance content writing, specifically ghostwriting for people on fiverr. I set up my account (still exists, but I don’t use it anymore) on the platform—and on Upwork, too, for good measure (I still use this! Say hi!)—to see if I could get some work.

I always liked writing and found it easy-ish to do. My university degree set me up to pump out large volumes of writing, and previous jobs gave me formal experience and knowledge with internal and external comms. I read some of the content people were ghostwriting for their clients, and basically thought, if they can do it, I can do it. Perhaps just enough arrogance to take that leap into a new career.

So I did it. I took any job that came my way on those platforms. I think my first-ever gig on Upwork paid me $2.00. But I didn’t care. People were PAYING ME to write for them. Random people, around the world, paying me to write little blog posts for them.

Those first jobs didn’t pay me anything except the confidence to know that I could do this. This could work. So, I…

• Kept building it up. Got some “higher-paying” gigs (think 2,000-word article for $40 😂).
• Collected positive reviews and 5-star ratings on both fiverr and Upwork.
• Started earning ~$2,000/month on fiverr and realized that this really could work.
• Got a part-time communications job to round out my income so I could keep building up my freelance work.
• Connected with some clients and set up private content-writing arrangements.
• Built up a lot of experience working with podcasters who wanted written content from their podcasts.
• Decided to do cold outreach to some podcasters—got work from that. Realized that could be an effective strategy.
• Got my first retainer client who paid me regularly each month to write and publish blog posts.
• Experienced a few crashes: my fiverr account went dead, and my income dropped. (To this day, I have no idea why. Probably AI) Retainer arrangements changed. Left the part-time job to pursue full-time freelancing; didn’t get as much new work as I thought I would.
• Kept taking jobs that came my way.
• Began talking about what I did more, networked more; landed a great client this way.
• Joined a lot of online groups to look for more work; got some.
• Cold-pitched a bit, could be more consistent, but got some work out of it.
• BASICALLY, I continued to throw spaghetti at the wall to see what stuck.
• Consumed a lot of content and resources for freelance writers… eyes opened to the world of pitching magazines and online pubs.
• Started thinking a byline would be cool.
• Started thinking about ideas I’d like to write about and made a big list.
• Started taking note of what kind of publications commission writers and where I could pitch ideas to.
• Pitched an idea to an online publication and got my first-ever commissioned article based on my idea, my voice, my writing—a total departure from ghostwriting for clients—their ideas, their voice. (Which, to be SO CLEAR, I enjoy doing, still do, and am available for hire if you need a ghostwriter.)
• Realized that people might be interested in my ideas as well as my writing skills/services.
• Started my Substack to refine my writing skills and get comfortable with showing up online, writing under my name.
• Fought the ever-present fear of being visible online and self-published an essay every two weeks.
• Pitched a few more ideas, landed a few more commissions. My most recent one was published in Business Insider. Truly, I am so grateful.
• Kept an ever-growing list of article ideas and possible publications.
• …I am READY to keep pitching more and growing this side of my work in tandem with ghostwriting, and content writing/editing services I offer.

Today, my work looks a lot different than when I started. I realized that while I could be a full-time freelancer, having a part-time job with people was best for my mental health. So I got one at my gym, where I now work as a trainer a few times a week. (It’s been great for my mental health and also great for my writing inspiration. See Oops, I started comparing myself to others more, for example.)

My paid work, and corresponding income allocation, includes working at the gym (20%), retainer clients for ghostwriting and editing (45%), retainer work writing non-profit grant applications and (15%), and one-off or short-term projects, including commissioned articles (20%).

I expect this to change ASAP because all I know about freelance writing is that things always change. But for now, it’s working. I’m not out here selling you a course on how to make six figures as a writer cause I don’t. But I make enough, and I control my time. To me, that is true wealth.

On becoming less ghostly

So now for the point of this whole essay: becoming less ghostly. It’s a phrase someone articulated when I was trying to explain that I wanted to write more under my own name. I love the phrase—it totally fits. And, it’s a scary process, just like ghosts.

See, when clients hire me to write for them, it’s all under their name and their voice. Usually, it’s their ideas as well (although I often collaborate with them on this). My goal is to sound like them and channel their unique perspective.

When I write for myself, it’s all me. And that feels a little vulnerable. Especially when the things I want to write about—grief, friendship, contentment—are personal. I’m writing about my life; people in my real life may read it.

And yet, I love reading other people’s personal essays. I cherish stories and ideas and fresh takes on a concept. I read about other people’s lives all the time. So maybe there are a few people out there who might want to read about mine. And, if not, I will keep writing because it clarifies my life; it untangles my thoughts.

There are good reasons to write as a human and not a ghost. But that doesn’t make it any less hard. Here are a few things I’ve learned along the way that really, truly, help me “put myself out there” online:

1. Most people do not care about what you do. I have some lovely friends and family members who very consistently read my work and send me messages that they liked it. Thank you. But most people do not care. Every time I’ve posted to my socials about things I’m writing, there is a fairly small amount of interaction with it. I get a few clicks, but nothing substantial—and definitely nothing negative. People are busy, and a lot is competing for their attention online, so I get it. This is good. This is freeing. They don’t really care, so I don’t need to care; hit publish, already, Alyssa!
2. Some people do care. And some of those people are editors of publications who like your idea and commission you to write it. But you won’t know that these people exist if you do not go ahead and pitch the idea or write the thing.
3. You have to start to start. If I want to become less ghostly, I have to write as not-a-ghost. I have to publish things, online, under the name “Alyssa Wiens.” It’s called “starting,” and it’s one of the hardest things to do, but there you go, you just have to do it.
4. After you start, you can grow. In the last 12 months, I launched a Substack and now have 64 subscribers. I added three bylined pieces to my portfolio. And, most randomly, the views on my website increased by over 1,000% (crazy, right? Thanks to one blog post that hit the right SEO keywords… here it is). Now, those things have added very little to my paycheque, but it’s still objective—if slow—growth. And growing only happens after you start… and then when you continue. So I’ll continue.
5. Writing is valuable in and of itself. I already mentioned that writing for myself helps me think and makes sense of my life and the world. So that’s worth it, no?

This turned out to be a lot longer than I expected; can I be a writer if I’m not verbose? Thanks for sticking with me.

I have no real summary point except this: if there’s something you want to do, give it a shot. It might feel scary, but that’s a feeling you can overcome—I know it. And, especially if that thing you want to do is related to the online world, remember that it’s just not that serious. You’ve got this 💪