A New Outlook On Success

Hello Darlings, 

Last month was purpose; this month is success. Because why not tackle two tremendously difficult-to-define concepts back-to-back? 

Let me start by admitting a professional ‘failure.’ I am officially calling it quits on trying to find a home for an essay I wrote last April titled I Called Off My Wedding At 32 And Thought I’d Lost My Chance At Motherhood.

Despite my best efforts, and rounds and rounds of carefully crafted pitches and thoughtful follow-ups, this one never found a formal home. 

I don't know why. Maybe timing. Maybe subject matter. Maybe it was the writing itself. That's the strange thing about submitting personal essays: you will likely never really know.

Whatever the reason, I got a lot of no-thank-yous. Like well over ten, to be honest. 

But as the last year has passed, and I piled up rejection after rejection, it stopped feeling so tough, so definite, even. Not because I became desensitized to it, but because my definition of success as a writer has changed dramatically. 

Early on, and yes, I say ‘early’ knowing I only officially started calling this a career when my first book came out in February 2025, I thought success meant publishing every single piece I wrote.

Every piece felt precious.

I hadn’t learned to trust that I would always write another one. 

But piling up rejections and keeping on writing anyway has shifted my focus entirely. 

Some essays become bylines. Others become teachers. And that is so, so far from wasted writing. 

Now, I’m proud every day I show up at my computer, or even dictate an idea into the notes of my phone. I’m proud that my craft keeps improving. Sure. I’m of course proud of the pieces that I’ve actually published, but I also see success in the growth, in the process. 

The literal joy I feel when I get to sit down and draft, the urge to stay up just a smidge later so I can round out a scene. The flowy goodness when I can’t help but open up a new document and record my observations because I have a sneaking suspicion there’s a good essay in there somewhere. 

That is success to me. 

The fact that I keep showing up, keep writing, and keep loving it. I genuinely don’t know how much more I could ask for. 

This success lets me confidently claim my identity as a writer, just by writing. It doesn't require that I be published in The New York Times to qualify, though yes, that would still be delightful. 

So, in recognition of this shift, I’m done looking for a home for this particular piece. Instead, she will live on the blog. Not because nobody else wanted her, but because I still do. And I'll keep hoping those who need her find her. 

Because this essay doesn’t feel like a failure to me. 

I wrote something I loved. I made it better. I sent it out into the world hoping that perhaps my truth would resonate with someone else out there. 

I heard no, and I kept on writing and sharing because this monthly newsletter will always be home to my words. 

To me, that feels an awful lot like the kind of success I’m looking for, and I couldn't be more proud. 

KRW

P.S. I'm self-publishing the article here. Check it out: I Called Off My Wedding At 32 And Thought I’d Lost My Chance At Motherhood 

P.P.S. Need some hard-earned, practical advice on potentially the one purchase that'll make or break a trip? I shared my thoughts with The Bump as a mother of two with a cohort of expert parents. From cobblestone streets in Chamonix to family adventures right here in Colorado, we discuss everything including compact folding, overhead-bin compatibility, ease of use, wheel size, and maneuverability.TLDR: If you and your partner can’t master the fold on the second try, move on. Bonus points if you can do it while holding coffee in your other hand.

THE BUMP: 8 Best Travel and Lightweight Strollers, Tested by Parents on the Go