Welcome to 2025: A Year of Success—However You Define It

Happy New Year

Success means different things to different people, but for writers, I’d argue it’s this: making a positive change in someone’s life by putting words to a thought or feeling they didn’t know they had—but desperately needed to hear. That’s the magic of writing: it’s not just about telling stories but also about forging connections, making readers feel a little less alone.

Writers and readers share a bond that’s truly greater than the sum of its parts—a kind of creative alchemy that turns ink and paper into something alive.

You’ve already made a bold investment—your time, energy, and creative soul—in the craft of writing. But here’s the curveball: marketing is just an extension of that investment. I know, I know—many writers balk at the idea. I’ve heard it all:

• “I was the last of my friends to get a cell phone!”

• “Everyone else knows so much more about this stuff than I do.”

• “Why would anyone care what I have to say?”

To that, I say: Stop it. You write because you have something to say—and trust me, someone out there needs to hear it. Your words matter. Your voice matters. Your creative work matters. And no, you’re not alone in this.

Creating and marketing go hand in hand to make a Whole Artist.

Sure, marketing has gotten a bad rap—we’re bombarded daily with ads and sales pitches. But at its core, marketing is just another creative vision: a way to connect people with ideas and stories that matter. Like writing, it’s a skill that requires a little finesse and a lot of heart.

My goal is to help you promote your work without feeling like you’re selling your soul—or worse, your sanity. These days, connecting with readers is as crucial as the writing itself. Whether you’re signed with a publisher or going the indie route, the unfortunate reality is the same: you’ll be doing most (if not all) of the marketing yourself.

But here’s the good news: it’s not as hard—or as soul-crushing—as it seems.

Together, we’ll explore ways to market your work authentically, effectively, and (gasp) enjoyably. You’ll learn how to use your voice and passion to amplify your message and connect with new readers. Done right, marketing can even feel like an extension of the creative process—a way to share the joy of your stories with the world.

Because when you reach new readers, you don’t just expand your audience—you expand your success. And that, my friend, is something worth celebrating.

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Prototype (a continuing story)

By Liz Dubelman

Betty was no stranger to financial struggle, but she wasn’t about to let a lack of funds kill her dream. If she couldn’t afford to hire a developer for her idea, she’d find another way. She started by Googling “how to build an app with no money,” which led her down a rabbit hole of free tools, open-source platforms, and DIY tutorials.

As she pieced together the basics of app development, she realized she’d need more than technical know-how to bring WinWin to life. She needed allies—people who shared her vision or, at the very least, had the skills and resources to help her pull it off.

Betty’s first call was to her old college roommate, Sheila, who now ran a successful startup in Silicon Valley. Sheila was a pragmatist, and Betty knew she’d bring a critical eye to the project. “Let me get this straight,” Sheila said after listening to Betty’s pitch. “You want to create an assassin Tinder for people with terminal illnesses?”

“Exactly,” Betty replied, undeterred by the incredulous tone in Sheila’s voice. “It’s ethical, really. It’s giving people a purpose at the end of their lives while solving some of society’s biggest problems.”

Sheila sighed. “Betty, this is insane. Also, probably illegal.”

“Possibly. But isn’t every great idea a little insane? I mean, look at Uber. At first, it was just some guy saying, ‘What if strangers drove you places in their cars?’ And now it’s a multi-billion-dollar company.”

“Yeah, but Uber isn’t literally facilitating murder.”

Betty countered, “Don’t act like health insurance CEOs aren’t killing people already—just slower and with more paperwork.”

There was a long pause. Finally, Sheila said, “Fine. I’ll help you brainstorm, but only because I want front-row seats to this train wreck.”

With Sheila reluctantly on board, Betty felt a surge of confidence. Over the next week, they worked together to flesh out the app’s concept, refining its features and brainstorming ways to navigate the legal and ethical minefields. Sheila brought in a friend who specialized in encryption, and Betty tapped into her own network of free-spirited students to design a sleek, darkly humorous logo. She made it a class assignment killing two birds with one stone. She didn’t need to teach that week and she might get some interesting logos.

By the end of the month, WinWin had a prototype. It wasn’t perfect—some features were clunky, and the user interface was more “Craigslist chic” than sleek Silicon Valley—but it worked.

The next challenge was funding. Betty needed to pitch her idea to investors, but how do you sell a concept that skirts the line between genius and dystopian nightmare? She decided to lean into the controversy, framing WinWin as a bold, disruptive solution to systemic inequality.

Betty’s first pitch was to a group of angel investors known for taking risks on unconventional ideas. She walked into the meeting wearing her best thrift store blazer, armed with a pitch deck that was equal parts persuasive and provocative.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, her voice steady despite her nerves. “The world doesn’t need another app to order tacos or hail a ride. What it needs is change—real, tangible, society-altering change. WinWin isn’t just an app. It’s a movement. A way to balance the scales, one impactful act at a time.”

By the time she finished her presentation, the room was silent. Finally, one investor spoke up. “This is the most … morally ambiguous idea I’ve ever heard. But it’s also kind of brilliant. Tell me more.”

For good or bad, WinWin took its first step toward becoming a reality.