FAQ: How do I write a cover letter?

Publishing Interns

HOO BOY. This is a big one. Don’t feel like you need to read this all in one go, but think of it like a master list of resources to check if you have any doubts. I’ve also had a little help from my friends, who are both amazing and far more knowledgeable than I:

  • Sarah Fortune, otherwise known as the worlds youngest publishing manager (24!!) and the person who inflicted me upon John Blake Publishing.
  • The amazing Lydia Gittins, press officer from Titan Books and all round superstar.
  • Fran Roberts, marketing machine at DK, SYP extraordinaire and owner of the worlds best floral skirt collection
  • And finally I also have special permission from legendary publishing rockstar Sam Missingham to include her #CVLetterTips, so watch out for those!

Now LETS GET STARTED!

Making sure your cover letter is effective is a huge pain in the ass, but…

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Closed Door

A blank page. A random tune stuck in my head, playing on loop. An idea that wants to be explored. I have something to say, but words fail me. I am a student, a writer, a girl but most important of all, a dreamer. Not the regular kind but a day dreamer. I can ride the clouds, meet the President or even stand on top of Mount Everest. All of it, without leaving my chair. But for the longest time there is a thought or rather an image or fantasy or what have you, which is not leaving my side. I walk out the door of my house with it. I wait for the bus with it. I even sit in the library with it. All of it has one thing in common. Me, alone and time. I feel as if I have a lot of it.

So back to my imagination. I imagine conversations. Lately it’s only surrounding one person. I met him in real life for a total of three or four times. Rest is just me wanting to take it all in. I wanted more. So the story continues as they say. I wondered how this person would be in their home. Or if they’d have a home. Or what if he is lonely? But no one is lonely right. All of us have people around them. May be I see others the way I feel inside. All of my characters are alone. I don’t know why.

Now I want that person to go away. I want that imagination to go away. I actually want to live my life alone. It’s weird how people affect me. I hate crowds. I don’t like when others get in my space. I am not anti social. I don’t hate others. I want others so bad that it scares me. People scare me. They are the most cruel and silent killers. You know how, they smile, they let you get your guards down, they minute you get get comfortable. Boom! They are gone. I like books instead. They stay.

For every story’s character there is a back story. There should be one for me right. In a nutshell I am a foreigner. I have carried this burden of being alone in a crowd ever since I was a kid. I wanted friends. They look good in movies. Especially in those montages. Everyone is happy and there are lots of hugs to go around. I miss hugs. In school, not in my country but the one I live in now, I had a group. They too left. The time I didn’t even do anything. Doctors said it was depression. I took blue colored pills. One pill to take the pain away. I didn’t have scars on my body. It was all inside. I miss that touch. That feeling of seeing smiling faces who knew me. Or even the feeling of not having people’s smile making my skin crawl.

There is a door that had closed, locking me in. I have to push that door open. I don’t know how to. My arms ache with the efforts. I find strength. I try. I fail. I stand up. I try again. Over and over and over again. This time the door won’t stay shut for long.

This is Why Character Development Takes So Long to Master

On character arcs and developing strong characters

A Writer's Path



by Meg Dowell

On a page, you are in control of time. Outside of it, you aren’t.

I have read and experienced many fascinating stories in my lifetime.

I have also experienced many poorly executed stories.

The deal breaker for me are a story’s characters. If, by the climax of a story, I do not care what happens to them, if I am not devastated by the possibility of an imaginary person failing or dying, then I cannot in good conscience call it a good story.

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Living in Oblivion

People who wore masks around their eyes.
Oblivous to everything,
living in a state of delirium,
everything decaying and disturbing,
around them,
With a dreamlike ease.
To survive the tyranny of his rule.
The outsider saw an over exaggerated circus,
cracks and peeling still visible,
like make up one had woken up with.