In 2020, I wrote a personal essay that I just couldn’t get published. The worst part was that I couldn’t figure out why. My essay had, as far as I could tell, all the hallmarks of a publishable piece. It told a unique story (about my first same-sex crush at 25, an age when I thought I was supposed to have my sexuality figured out). I’d worked through a draft with a writing coach. I’d revised it until it shone.

But no one wanted to buy it. Editors weren’t even responding to my pitches. Maybe I needed more publication credits. Maybe I needed connections, or to learn some secret handshake. Only half joking, I told one of my friends that the piece was cursed.

It wasn’t cursed, though. The problem had nothing to do with the essay. The problem was the pitch. So I analyzed my pitching, and these three tactics changed my writing life.

Research (and read!) publications.

My early pitches failed for the most basic of reasons: I wasn’t reading the magazines I was pitching. I looked for markets that accepted personal essays without thinking about what type of personal essay they liked to publish. One of the first venues I tried for my sexuality piece was Narratively. They like scenes (not summary), action, and high drama.

My essay was none of those things. Instead it was introspective, with minimal action. Had I taken the time to read any of Narratively’s backlog, I would have quickly seen that my piece wasn’t a good match and could’ve saved myself the heartache of rejection.

Pitch the correct editor, by name.

If you want to show an editor that you know what you’re doing, familiarize yourself with the magazine’s masthead. Find the section you want to pitch, and write down the editor’s name. Pitches addressed to a specific person, instead of “To whom it may concern,” or “Dear editor,” are better received.

Editors are people, too! Let them know that you care enough about their magazine and their work to find and use their name. Twitter can be a great resource for this, as some editors list their contact info and article wish list in their profile or tweets. This should go without saying, but make sure you’ve spelled the editor’s name correctly.

Write a detailed, specific pitch.

My early pitches often started with broad statements like, “I’m pitching a piece about sexuality.” While that statement was true, the vagueness didn’t capture editors’ attention. It was a topic and not a story, giving them no reason to keep reading.

Details and specificity are key in pitches. What can you give this publication that no other writer can provide?

Contrast my early opening, above, with my later pitch: “At 25, I had my first same-sex crush. I thought the transition from ally to queer would be easy, until I caught myself thinking that my same-sex crush was ‘inappropriate.’ The experience taught me […] that we have to be willing to examine not just our actions and words but our thoughts, too, who we are when no one else is around.”

Specific, indeed.

We can never fully eliminate rejection. That said, using these tactics, I receive far fewer cricket rejections (a.k.a. no responses). When I am rejected, the replies are often encouraging or helpful.

The best part, though, is that I’m getting acceptances I only dreamed of a year ago—including, of course, that “cursed” personal essay, which went live in July 2021 with DAME Magazine. You can find the full piece here.

BIO: Natalie Schriefer, MFA often writes about sexuality, shame, and women in sports. She works as a freelance writer and editor, and has written for Dame Magazine, MTV, and the Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, among others. Find her on Twitter @schriefern1 or at her website, www.natalieschriefer.com.